The Gifts of Christmas

by

Rev. Joy Atkinson

Presented to the Unitarian

Society of Santa Barbara

December 23, 2007

©2007 by Rev. Joy Atkinson

Santa Barbara, California

Meditation before the sermon

The Gift by William Carlos Williams

As the wise men of old brought gifts

guided by a star

to the humble birthplace

of the god of love,

the devils

as an old print shows

retreated in confusion.

What could a baby know

of gold ornaments

or frankincense and myrrh,

of priestly robes

and devout genuflections?

But the imagination

knows all stories

before they are told

and all knows the truth of this one

past all defection

The rich gifts

so unsuitable for a child

thou devoutly proffered,

stood for all that love can bring.

The men were old

how could they know

of a mother¹s needs

or a child¹s appetite?

But as they kneeled

the child was fed.

They saw it

and

gave praise!

A miracle

had taken place,

hard gold to love,

a mother¹s milk!

Before

their wondering eyes.

The ass brayed

the cattle lowed.

It was their nature.

All men by their nature give praise.

It is all

they can do.

The very devils

by their flight give praise.

What is death,

Beside this?

Nothing. The wise men

came with gifts

and bowed down

to worship

this perfection.

The Singing of Angels by Howard Thurman

There must be always remaining in every [one's] life some place for the singing of angels -- some place for that which in itself is breathlessly beautiful and by an inherent prerogative, throwing all the rest of life into a new and creative relatedness -- something that gathers up in itself all the freshets of experience from drab and commonplace areas of living and glows in one bright light of penetrating beauty and meaning -- then passes. The commonplace is shot through with new glory -- old burdens become lighter, deep and ancient wounds lose much of their old, old hurting. A crown is placed over our heads that for the rest of our lives we are trying to grow tall enough to wear. Despite all the crassness of life, despite all the hardness of life, despite all of the harsh discords of life, life is saved by the singing of angels.

The Gifts of Christmas

by Rev. Joy Atkinson

Although it has its dark side, Christmas is a bright and joyful holiday. Christmas comes bearing gifts, if we are but open to them.

As the Christmas story goes, the Magi—the wise men from the East—came bearing gifts. They were Zoroastrian priests, scholars believe. These kings, as they were called, knelt down on straw before a dirt-poor child in a humble animal stable. They knelt with rich and luxurious gifts in hand—gold, frankincense and myrrh. William Carlos Williams, in the poem that I read for this morning’s meditation, The Gift, wonders about this: “What could a baby know/ of gold ornaments/ or frankincense and myrrh/ of priestly robes/ and devout genuflections? The rich gifts/ so unsuitable for a child/ though devoutly proffered,/ stood for all that love could bring.” A comedienne I heard recently put it a little more practically: “Here come these three wise men to Jesus' baby shower,” she said, “and what do they bring? Gold, frankincense and MYRRH? What is myrrh? Mary was polite, of course: ‘Oh, myrrh. How nice. One can never have too much…uh, myrrh.’"

What are the gifts of Christmas? Not the ones that come wrapped in bright packages, but the gifts of the heart?

One of these gifts is the gift of peaceful silence. This may seem paradoxical. It's become almost a cliché to say that we're all too busy rushing around at this time of the year, that there is no peace, and with crowds and muzac carols blaring throughout the stores and malls, there is precious little silence. But there are quiet, gracious moments that come to us unbidden at this time of the year. In late afternoon or evening, when it's dark and chilly out, and we experience a special coziness indoors, in front of a fire, or we stand in silence enjoying the tree we have just decorated, or the candles we have kindled. There is the sacred quiet of late Christmas Eve, when the shoppers have gone home and the air is crisp and still, or the quiet in community during a Christmas Eve candlelight service, when the candlelight is passed from person to person, and we momentarily catch the glow from the faces of our friends as the light is passed. It is a silent night, a holy night, which we share with friends and family.

A peaceful silence is one of the gifts of Christmas.

Another gift is the recovery of a delightful and renewing childlikeness. Whether we have children or not, something childlike in ourselves comes out to play, or at least tries to, at Christmas time. A child's excitement in anticipation of Christmas day recalls for many of us our own childhood experiences of anticipation and delight, before the adult world-weariness we carry about set in. We need the chance, periodically, to be able to see the world once again through the eyes of a child, to perhaps enjoy our children or grandchildren's delight, and to remember and cherish the child who still lives inside us.

Christmas brings the gift of blessed childlikeness to each of us.

The central mythic event of Christmas is the story of the birth of Jesus, a redeemer, a bringer of light and hope. The story offers us a spiritual gift, in reminding us of the ever-present possibility of re-birth in our aging selves. Jesus' birth is our birth. Through the remembering and the re-telling of this ancient story each year, we can become open to our own inner rebirth.

Christmas also may kindle a desire within us to become a little more like Jesus, a little more like the Buddha, or like Mother Theresa or Mohandas Gandhi or Martin Luther King-- that is, healers, envisioners of hope, redeemers, in our own small way, to a tired and needy world.

The Christmas story brings the gift of rebirth and the renewal of hope.

Christmas also brings a softening, an opening of the heart and hand. Our furrowed brows give way to the softness of a smile. It's perhaps harder to hate at this time of year, and it's easier to give. This is a time when our natural generosity flowers. However much we may complain that Christmas has become too commercial, we can take consolation from the fact that even behind the commercialism there stands the human impulse to generosity. We love to give gifts, and at this time of year we are reminded to be as charitable as we can, not just to those we know and love, but to the many who are in need.

Christmas brings the gift of the opening of hearts and hands; it brings the opportunity to express love and generosity.

In addition to the gifts of peaceful silence, childlikeness, a mythic story of hope and rebirth, and the opening of our hearts and hands, Christmas presents a multiplicity of gifts to our senses: the scent of pine and goodies baking, the sight of twinkling decorations and colored lights, the warmth of a Yuletide fire and friendly hugs, the sound of familiar carols and old stories retold. Many gifts, with no need for a box.

Yes, Christmas does come thundering along much too soon to the department stores, driven by the profit motive, appearing on the shelves nowadays even before the Halloween stuff is gone. And yes, Christmas does bring with it a mixture of feelings, some of them even sad or uncomfortable, perhaps. But Christmas also comes bearing the gifts of the human spirit, if we are open to receiving them. When the Magi come to the stable of your rebirth, when they come bearing gifts for you, will you be ready to receive them? Will you open your heart to their gifts? What do you think will be inside?

BENEDICTION

For Christmas, I wish for you:

a hug, a song, a candle, the scent of pine,

a flurry of cards and messages,

the taste of something sweet,

and a gift, one given, one received,

both wrapped in the brightness of love.