The Dean’s Christmas Message
In the story if Jesus’ birth, time clearly matters but its meaning is hard to pin down. Of course, time comes up quite often: we know that Mary had reached the fullness of her nine-month pregnancy, and after a journey of several days she gave birth (maybe) in the middle the night. The gospel of Luke even says, “…the time came for her to deliver her child,” which rather understates the magnitude of any birth, to say nothing of that of the Prince of Peace.
These are all designations of time, yet time throughout this story seems to be fluid and ever-changing. I hear flowing through these scenes the waiting of pregnancy and the drudgery of travel and the liminal timelessness of childbirth; I hear time expanding and contracting like billows feeding a fire, culminating in a moment when eternal time seems to stop to take its own breath as Mary holds her child, pondering the gift of Jesus and treasuring it all in her heart.
Time, in that breath, seemed to stop.
I wish that time could stop for us sometimes. I wish that time could stop, so that we might reflect on and give thanks for the many gifts that God has given us. I wish that time could stop, so that we could remember and hold close to our hearts those we’ve lost, to join them in that timeless and eternal place where God holds us all. I wish sometimes that time could stop so that we could reconcile and heal our warring madness, be that violence against God’s beloved children or the exploitation of the world that God intends for all creation, and not just us.
If time could stop for just a moment, we might finally see that it is love, not fear, that is the essence of who we are and the very imprint of the divine on each of our hearts.
In Bishop Curry’s wonderful Christmas Message this year, he says, “The older I get, the more I am convinced that God came into this world in the person of Jesus for one reason, and one reason alone: to show us the way to be reconciled and in right relationship with the God who is the creator of us all, and with each other as children of that one God.”
I wonder if that was something that Mary pondered when she held Jesus. I don’t mean to presume too much here: there’s far more mystery in that embrace between Mary and child than I could ever comprehend and thank God for that. But imagine, for a just moment, what that meant for the two to sit together as the flow of time swirled around them, as the love that had poured into the world took began to awaken and feel the warmth and perfect touch of a parent’s embrace.
Now that you’ve imagined that, consider what it means for us to open our eyes, newly inspired as we are by this gift of love that has changed the world. With the flow of time wrapping around us as well, as God embraces us.
What do we see? We see the work of healing and reconciling that comes through compassion, faithful action, and trust in the transformative love of Jesus. We see grace, and the gifts of self-giving love through which God showers our world with hope and healing. We see resurrection, as we begin to find our place in God’s eternal flow of time.
All those visions come together in the greatest gift of all: in joy, in our delight as love incarnate has come among us. This Christmas, may you be filled with the peace that passes all understanding and the joy that that comes from seeing God’s grace all around you, and may that peace and joy make you a vessel for God’s reconciling love as the time comes for you to share that love the world.
Blessings in this holy season of Christmas!
