One of my favorite stories in the Bible is the tale of the shepherds in Luke 2. I love their movement from darkness to light; from fear to excitement. I love their journey of rushing to Bethlehem and back, talking and singing and sharing their stories. I can see Mary and Joseph gently smiling as they listened to what I am sure was a less than orderly tale of light, proclamation, and song. I love that even after a heavenly revelation and a daring journey made just so they could see the newborn babe for themselves, they return to their shepherd lives. It is a hint of things to come with Jesus. He healed people back into their lives, certainly changed, but also still the same. There is always work to be done and a flock to tend.
Yesterday in a skilled nursing community, the people who gathered with us were ready to sing. Fortunately, the pianist who helps in this home brought extra Christmas music, so we sang probably close to a half hour. As we sang the voices grew stronger; heads were nodding; hands were clapping, and waving. The activity directors were laughing. At the end of the service, I wished everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, and blessings for all regardless of their faith. I thanked them for a wonderful year of worship services. With blessings of "Thank you and Merry Christmas," accompanied by many hugs, we walked out smiling. Even the resident who can seldom spare a nice word because his energy is usually consumed in the heroic struggle between strong medication and the cacophony of voices in his head, gave us a blessing and thanked us. I had to bow in gratitude.
In today's reading from The Rule of Benedict, Sister Joan writes of monastery life as an "image of a world unskewed by material values and social definitions." She calls this the "vision thrust" into a world that is no longer marked by sex, money, and race, but rather a picture of "human liberation gone outrageously giddy with the freeing power of God as the sign of its sanctity." I do not want to romanticize life in skilled nursing; it can be lonely and difficult, both for residents and staff. Yet this liberation that Sister Joan describes is often the reality that I witness as I move among these heavenly hosts. Yes, on first glance they appear clothed, not in glory, but in very ordinary cotton shirts and dresses, old ball caps, and the occasional bib. Their songs are often punctuated with tremors. Some can be quite cranky and taciturn, but with a little encouragement, most can be coaxed back with hymns and stories of God's love for all. Go tell it on the mountain. Please. Christ is born ever anew when our hearts open. Let us go together; we can see and experience this for ourselves.
Do not be afraid, for see I am bringing good news of great joy for all the people; to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
Luke 2:10
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