Sunday, December 22, 2013

Immanuel, again

While visiting my mother just before Christmas this year I had an epiphany. A little background is needed before I reveal my revelation.  Mom lives in Macon, a struggling middle Georgia city that in July was named the 3rd worst place in the United States for property crime. Sirens can be heard almost hourly from her home, even though it is nestled in an established, wooded neighborhood on the outskirts of town. My nephew used to work in the DA's office in Macon and often warned us of areas of town and routes through town that should be avoided.

On the Sunday before Christmas we attended Mom's uptown church where she sings in the choir and teaches Sunday School. It is a very traditional, if not liturgical, style of worship for a Baptist congregation. As in most Christian congregations music is an essential aspect of the Advent and Christmas season here. The older I get the more I find music to be the most meaningful part of the season. As the brass quintet played "What child is This?" I closed my eyes and let the music wash over, through me. I tried to capture the peace and holiness of the moment. In the midst of shopping, traveling and juggling the many demands of celebrating the holiday properly I needed a respite, a glimpse of that seemingly forgone silent night, holy night. Just as I was beginning to capture the sought after feeling a siren sounded in the distance. As the music crescendoed, the refrain was drowned out by the harsh wailing of the passing emergency vehicle. Self righteously, I found my anger rising. However, just as quickly, as the siren faded, slowly replaced by the sweet tunes in the sanctuary, the meaning of the music - and the season - dawned on me. The "Silent Night" of my Christmas fantasies is but a myth. The Christ child did not come on a perfect night devoid of the interruptions of normal of life. No, Jesus was was born on a normal night, in an overcrowded town filled with families and noisy animals.  As the story is told, the baby Jesus, the Emmanuel - literally "God with us" - entered this life the stablemate of farm animals.  It was not a pure, holy, quiet, peaceful event.

"What child is this," the beloved Christmas hymn inquires? It is the God who dared and dares to enter into our own mundane or hectic lives bring the divine presence where we are. Jesus does not wait for us to achieve perfection to come. Jesus does not wait for all to be stress free. Jesus does not wait for us to get it all together. No, Jesus comes everyday, at every moment, in every place, sirens and all.

In her recent book Pastorix, Nadia Bolz-Weber shared the story of when she served as a hospital chaplain. New to the job she was called to the ER where all in attendance were working to save an unconscious man stretched out on the gurney. She felt out of place and didn't know what her job was supposed to be. She asked a passing nurse who responded, "Your job is to seek and acknowledge the presence of God in this place." Belz-Weber reflected that the nurse's statement has become one of her guiding visions for her life and her ministry. It is also a fitting reminder to me this Christmas.

So this season, forget the silent night. It probably doesn't exist where you live. I know I've not seen or experienced such in a long time! Instead, in the midst of your "everyday, ordinary life -- your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking around life" (Romans 12:1, The Message), in the midst of your celebrating or grieving or longing or hoping, look for and welcome the very presence of God in you and all around you. Such is reason to celebrate! Emmanuel! God IS with us!