What’s Real?
Sermon given at Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
January 5, 2014
The Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Christmas is now some ten days past, the new year has arrived, and within a few more days the last overt traces of the holiday will once again be neatly packed away and stored in my attic for a long winter’s, spring, summer, and autumn’s nap.
Packing up and putting away Christmas...or holiday decorations. It is a ritual that countless individuals, families, businesses and municipalities partake in each year signaling to one another a return to “normal”...to real life once again.
But what’s real?
When I was a child Christmas for me was, to quote a holiday classic, “the most wonderful time of the year.” Part of what made it wonderful, was that it was wonder-filled. Nearly every aspect of daily life changed in a dramatic way during Christmas...at home it meant decorating the house with wreaths and candles in the windows.
Then there was the fresh cut tree draped in a mantle of quasi glamourous bordering on gaudy decoration with twinkling lights, shimmering metallic garland, iridescent glass ornaments interspersed with the occasional homemade ornament generously, if unevenly, coated in glitter and of course, tinsel to complete the effect. It was also that time of year when the usually empty covered glass jars and compotes that populated end and coffee tables were suddenly overflowing with wrapped chocolates, mixed nuts and other seasonal treats.
Television reminded us we were in a special time of year too as fantastic tales conflating the religious and secular lore and legend of Christmas were told in claymation and animation.
Beyond the home, neighbors adorned their houses with lights and trees of varying grandeur glowed in many windows. And then there was the mall and its stores brimming with decorations of endless variety and enormous proportions and the unmistakable laugh of Santa Claus in the center of it all surrounded by a meandering trail of excited or frightened children. Even music was different this time of year with songs featuring choirs, chimes, and sleigh bells.
Outside the weather signaled a change of season as well and when the snow came even a diehard bah humbug couldn’t help but acknowledge there was something magical about this time of year.
The magic continued at church where the story of a child’s birth was retold. It was a fantastic story told in which angels announced the child’s birth. It spoke of a special star that appeared in the sky and guided foreign rulers to site of this child’s birth where they gave him exotic and expensive gifts and of humble shepherds who left their flock to go see this child born in a manger.
It was a story as magical and wondrous to me as the shimmering tree in our living room, the falling snow, and Santa Claus at the mall. All in all the world seemed a better place at Christmas time. Sure, it had it frantic moments and fussy clothes, but it was the time of year when my little world seemed more beautiful, more festive, and people were just plain nicer. This was the wonder of Christmas.
Intertwined with the wonder of Christmas as a child was something else, something less magical and seemingly obligatory at first, an image or experience of Christmas which has become more clear with the benefit of age and reflection.
It included singing Christmas carols with my cub scout pack at a swelteringly hot and crowded nursing home where I wondered about the lives of the people I saw, some staring blankly past us, while others clapped or smiled with tears welling in their eyes.
Then there was the food baskets and coat drives...it was hard for me to imagine that there were people that didn’t have a coat or enough to eat in this country...let alone in my town. My mother, made sure to involve my sister and I in some form of giving each Christmas even if it was just to accompany her to a donation drop off location.
And at church I heard about people in other countries in need because of war or poverty and that some of the money the church collected went to help them. We were also encouraged to remember these people whom we didn’t know and would never meet, in our prayers.
At church I also heard that the little baby born in a manger had come so that the world could be a better place if we learned to be more like the man the baby grew up to be, an understanding that evolved during my transition in denominational identity from Roman Catholic to unaffiliated to Unitarian Universalist; an understanding that has come to mean giving heed to the religion of Jesus rather than the religion about him...the religion alluded to in Howard Thurman’s poem, “The Work of Christmas”...which our intergenerational players acted out for us today and the choir sang...
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
Thurman’s words suggest, like my childhood experience, a tale of two Christmases, one a tale of wonder, the other a tale of work, spiritually or religiously inspired.
The tale of wonder is familiar to us as the story recounted in the gospels of Matthew and Luke and continually expanded over the ages to include observances and traditions with Pagan roots as well as folktales and customs both secular and religious.
The tale of work...is familiar to us as something often referred to as “the true meaning of Christmas”, where we challenge ourselves and the status quo, transcend self-concern, grow in compassion and empathy, and help make the world a better place...the kingdom of God...or a beloved community if you prefer.
As we pack up our Christmas decorations for another year and the wonder of the story fades away we’re reminded of the transient nature of the season. In the meantime, life returns to “normal”, with the needs of the world and its inhabitants to be addressed, there is much work to be done....there always is. And so to the question, What’s real...if we ask it in relation to the wonder and work of Christmas and the state of the world, it might seem the work is real, the wonder merely a nostalgic ornament.
This is the lament of Thomas Hardy who wrote “The Oxen”, our reading for today. Hardy was 75 when he wrote “The Oxen.” It was 1915 and the world was entangled in the horrors of World War I. As he journeyed from childhood to old age...from a simplistic faith to a cynical rationalism Hardy lost the religion of his youth and with it the magic and wonder he longs for in the poem.
I wonder how many Thomas Hardy’s there are among us or the people coming into our churches? People who once or perhaps never experienced the wonder of Christmas (or stories like it) as real and now only experience or know the work of Christmas (or the world) as real. I suspect there are many among us, perhaps you are one of the many.
Somewhere between simplistic faith and cynical rationalism however, there is what I call an engaged or integrated faith. Here the wonder and work of Christmas are both real and both necessary.
The thing is, in this age obsessed with facts...we hunger more than ever for truth. In a world dulled by familiarity...we thirst for an experience of awe and wonder. In times of cynicism...we seek hope.
In the unbelievable and unlikely story of that ancient birth we recall at Christmas, we’re invited to set aside the cold hard facts that we might discover truth about ourselves, our nature, and our potential. The angel voices cry out “Fear not!” and call us to awaken to life within and around us. And a child is born, as vulnerable as any other born before of after him, whose life two thousand years later continues to inspire hope...which in turn inspires women, men and children past and present, including our Unitarian and Universalist forbears and countless others like them around the globe to do the work of Christmas, not just in December, but throughout the new year.
Look at the work we do together here all year. Now we may understand the work we do with and to support the Brookfield Ecumenical Food Pantry, Dismas House, Heifer International, as well as our special collections, the work of all of our committees, members, friends, children and staff, including RE, music, choir, musicians, worship leaders and assistants...(if I have left anyone out, my apologies)... we may understand this work more broadly than the work of Christmas.
And while we are surely also inspired to engage in this work from a variety of sources and understandings...it is important we remember we are nonetheless heirs of both the wonder and the work of Christmas, wonder and work our religious ancestors wrestled with and engaged in as people of faith, participants in a living tradition whose wings have since spread far and wide, but is nevertheless rooted firmly in the Judeo-Christian tradition which, at its best, like so many other traditions at their best, encourages and integrates the power and necessity of wonder and work into their particular faith stories, traditions and wider practice in the world.
As people of faith we are called to be community of seekers and celebrants of wonder...of hope...inspired by and committed to what we discover to do the work of our faith in all seasons.
It is the call we answer each time we gather to celebrate and serve life, our own and that of others...and it is the call we answer each December with millions of others worldwide by lifting up and joining in both the wonder and work of Christmas...all year, every year.
Amen and Blessed Be
Sermon given at Brookfield Unitarian Universalist Church
January 5, 2014
The Rev. Craig M. Nowak
Christmas is now some ten days past, the new year has arrived, and within a few more days the last overt traces of the holiday will once again be neatly packed away and stored in my attic for a long winter’s, spring, summer, and autumn’s nap.
Packing up and putting away Christmas...or holiday decorations. It is a ritual that countless individuals, families, businesses and municipalities partake in each year signaling to one another a return to “normal”...to real life once again.
But what’s real?
When I was a child Christmas for me was, to quote a holiday classic, “the most wonderful time of the year.” Part of what made it wonderful, was that it was wonder-filled. Nearly every aspect of daily life changed in a dramatic way during Christmas...at home it meant decorating the house with wreaths and candles in the windows.
Then there was the fresh cut tree draped in a mantle of quasi glamourous bordering on gaudy decoration with twinkling lights, shimmering metallic garland, iridescent glass ornaments interspersed with the occasional homemade ornament generously, if unevenly, coated in glitter and of course, tinsel to complete the effect. It was also that time of year when the usually empty covered glass jars and compotes that populated end and coffee tables were suddenly overflowing with wrapped chocolates, mixed nuts and other seasonal treats.
Television reminded us we were in a special time of year too as fantastic tales conflating the religious and secular lore and legend of Christmas were told in claymation and animation.
Beyond the home, neighbors adorned their houses with lights and trees of varying grandeur glowed in many windows. And then there was the mall and its stores brimming with decorations of endless variety and enormous proportions and the unmistakable laugh of Santa Claus in the center of it all surrounded by a meandering trail of excited or frightened children. Even music was different this time of year with songs featuring choirs, chimes, and sleigh bells.
Outside the weather signaled a change of season as well and when the snow came even a diehard bah humbug couldn’t help but acknowledge there was something magical about this time of year.
The magic continued at church where the story of a child’s birth was retold. It was a fantastic story told in which angels announced the child’s birth. It spoke of a special star that appeared in the sky and guided foreign rulers to site of this child’s birth where they gave him exotic and expensive gifts and of humble shepherds who left their flock to go see this child born in a manger.
It was a story as magical and wondrous to me as the shimmering tree in our living room, the falling snow, and Santa Claus at the mall. All in all the world seemed a better place at Christmas time. Sure, it had it frantic moments and fussy clothes, but it was the time of year when my little world seemed more beautiful, more festive, and people were just plain nicer. This was the wonder of Christmas.
Intertwined with the wonder of Christmas as a child was something else, something less magical and seemingly obligatory at first, an image or experience of Christmas which has become more clear with the benefit of age and reflection.
It included singing Christmas carols with my cub scout pack at a swelteringly hot and crowded nursing home where I wondered about the lives of the people I saw, some staring blankly past us, while others clapped or smiled with tears welling in their eyes.
Then there was the food baskets and coat drives...it was hard for me to imagine that there were people that didn’t have a coat or enough to eat in this country...let alone in my town. My mother, made sure to involve my sister and I in some form of giving each Christmas even if it was just to accompany her to a donation drop off location.
And at church I heard about people in other countries in need because of war or poverty and that some of the money the church collected went to help them. We were also encouraged to remember these people whom we didn’t know and would never meet, in our prayers.
At church I also heard that the little baby born in a manger had come so that the world could be a better place if we learned to be more like the man the baby grew up to be, an understanding that evolved during my transition in denominational identity from Roman Catholic to unaffiliated to Unitarian Universalist; an understanding that has come to mean giving heed to the religion of Jesus rather than the religion about him...the religion alluded to in Howard Thurman’s poem, “The Work of Christmas”...which our intergenerational players acted out for us today and the choir sang...
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
Thurman’s words suggest, like my childhood experience, a tale of two Christmases, one a tale of wonder, the other a tale of work, spiritually or religiously inspired.
The tale of wonder is familiar to us as the story recounted in the gospels of Matthew and Luke and continually expanded over the ages to include observances and traditions with Pagan roots as well as folktales and customs both secular and religious.
The tale of work...is familiar to us as something often referred to as “the true meaning of Christmas”, where we challenge ourselves and the status quo, transcend self-concern, grow in compassion and empathy, and help make the world a better place...the kingdom of God...or a beloved community if you prefer.
As we pack up our Christmas decorations for another year and the wonder of the story fades away we’re reminded of the transient nature of the season. In the meantime, life returns to “normal”, with the needs of the world and its inhabitants to be addressed, there is much work to be done....there always is. And so to the question, What’s real...if we ask it in relation to the wonder and work of Christmas and the state of the world, it might seem the work is real, the wonder merely a nostalgic ornament.
This is the lament of Thomas Hardy who wrote “The Oxen”, our reading for today. Hardy was 75 when he wrote “The Oxen.” It was 1915 and the world was entangled in the horrors of World War I. As he journeyed from childhood to old age...from a simplistic faith to a cynical rationalism Hardy lost the religion of his youth and with it the magic and wonder he longs for in the poem.
I wonder how many Thomas Hardy’s there are among us or the people coming into our churches? People who once or perhaps never experienced the wonder of Christmas (or stories like it) as real and now only experience or know the work of Christmas (or the world) as real. I suspect there are many among us, perhaps you are one of the many.
Somewhere between simplistic faith and cynical rationalism however, there is what I call an engaged or integrated faith. Here the wonder and work of Christmas are both real and both necessary.
The thing is, in this age obsessed with facts...we hunger more than ever for truth. In a world dulled by familiarity...we thirst for an experience of awe and wonder. In times of cynicism...we seek hope.
In the unbelievable and unlikely story of that ancient birth we recall at Christmas, we’re invited to set aside the cold hard facts that we might discover truth about ourselves, our nature, and our potential. The angel voices cry out “Fear not!” and call us to awaken to life within and around us. And a child is born, as vulnerable as any other born before of after him, whose life two thousand years later continues to inspire hope...which in turn inspires women, men and children past and present, including our Unitarian and Universalist forbears and countless others like them around the globe to do the work of Christmas, not just in December, but throughout the new year.
Look at the work we do together here all year. Now we may understand the work we do with and to support the Brookfield Ecumenical Food Pantry, Dismas House, Heifer International, as well as our special collections, the work of all of our committees, members, friends, children and staff, including RE, music, choir, musicians, worship leaders and assistants...(if I have left anyone out, my apologies)... we may understand this work more broadly than the work of Christmas.
And while we are surely also inspired to engage in this work from a variety of sources and understandings...it is important we remember we are nonetheless heirs of both the wonder and the work of Christmas, wonder and work our religious ancestors wrestled with and engaged in as people of faith, participants in a living tradition whose wings have since spread far and wide, but is nevertheless rooted firmly in the Judeo-Christian tradition which, at its best, like so many other traditions at their best, encourages and integrates the power and necessity of wonder and work into their particular faith stories, traditions and wider practice in the world.
As people of faith we are called to be community of seekers and celebrants of wonder...of hope...inspired by and committed to what we discover to do the work of our faith in all seasons.
It is the call we answer each time we gather to celebrate and serve life, our own and that of others...and it is the call we answer each December with millions of others worldwide by lifting up and joining in both the wonder and work of Christmas...all year, every year.
Amen and Blessed Be
