I'm still catching up, including dealing with a toothache yesterday by seeings two dentists and having a root canal procedure all in an afternoon! At that pace it's going to be a very productive New Year!
--Jack Lohr, Interim Pastor
Christmas Eve 10 PM "Light for the Journey"
Before Matthew and Luke and John sat down to write their stories of Jesus' birth, they made sure to visit the Department of Gospel Publishing and apply for an official Evangelist's License. The license gave them permission to use their imagination in rearranging experience to improve a story, so long as it served the standard of Truth-in-the-larger-sense. The truth of poetry and parable do not compete with the truth of science or the courtroom. They trusted us to know the difference.When we come on Christmas Eve to celebrate the birth of Jesus, we are doing something that feels increasingly anachronistic. An evangelical group published a survey this week that suggests fewer people actually DO anything religious at Christmas, even if they say "Jesus is the reason for the season."
But I dare to believe that those of us who see ourselves on a spiritual journey will continue to come to Christmas Eve services because it's here in sharing the stories, singing the carols, lighting the candles, and partaking in Communion that we find "Light for the Journey."
If you drop by our church web page, you'll see the phrase, along with a reference to John 1:4 ". . . the life was the light of all people . . " Of course the phrase is a reference to the Incarnation story which I read from the Prologue to the Gospel of John. And it's also a reference to our church's commitment as a "More Light" Presbyterian Church, welcoming people of all sexual orientations. For me, the deepest and most inclusive meaning of the phrase "Light for the Journey" is how it describes the way on person can inspire and encourage another on the path of life. Each one of us can be a light-bearer for people who are living in a land or a time of shadows. And that's why I will continue going to Christmas Eve worship as long as I can get out of my house.
I have a story from you from Robert Fulghum. He has a habit. Whenever anyone asks, at the end of a lecture (or any other context), “Does anyone have any questions?” Fulghum always asks “What is the Meaning of Life?” The question always gets the same response: laughter. But he continues to ask, as he says, “You never know, somebody may have the answer, and I’d really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask.”
One Summer Fulghum was taking a seminar on the Island of Crete at an institute dedicated to human understanding and peace, especially between Germans and Cretans. An improbable task, given the bitter residue of wartime.
The site is important, because it overlooks the small airstrip at Maleme where Nazi paratroopers invaded Crete and were attacked by peasants wielding kitchen knives and hay scythes. The retribution was terrible. The populations of whole villages were lined up and shot for assaulting Hitler's finest troops.
High above the institute is a cemetery with a single cross marking the mass grave of Cretan partisans. And across the bay on yet another hill is the regimented burial ground of the Nazi paratroopers. The memorials are so placed that all might see and never forget. Hate was the only weapon the Cretans had at the end, and it was a weapon many vowed never to give up. Never ever.
Against this heavy curtain of history, in this place where the stone of hatred is hard and thick, the existence of an institute devoted to healing the wounds of war is a fragile paradox. How has it come to be here? The answer is a man. Alexander Papaderos.
A doctor of philosophy, teacher, politician, resident of Athens but a son of this soil. At war's end he came to believe that the Germans and the Cretans had much to give one another -- much to learn from one another. That they had an example to set. For if they could forgive each other and construct a creative relationship, then any people could.
To make a lovely story short, Papaderos succeeded. The institute became a reality -- a conference ground on the site of horror -- and it was in fact a source of productive interaction between the two countries. Books have been written on the dreams that were realized by what people gave to people in this place.
By the time Fulgham went to the institute, Alexander Papaderos had become a living legend. One look at him and you saw his strength and intensity -- energy, physical power, courage, intelligence, passion, and vivacity radiated from this person. And to speak to him, to shake his hand, to be in a room with him when he spoke, was to experience his extraordinary electric humanity. Few men live up to their reputations when you get close. Alexander Papaderos was an exception.
Picture the scene: At the end of the week-long seminar, as people were preparing to leave. Papaderos asked, “Are their any questions?” Fulghum responded, “What is the Meaning of Life?” People laughed, but not Papaderos. He raised his hand and quieted the class. Looking deeply into Fulghum’s eyes, he pulled out of his wallet a small round mirror. He said, “I will answer your question.”
“When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine- in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find.
I kept the little mirror and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game. As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child’s game, but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But that light, truth, understanding, knowledge are there, and will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
I am a fragment of a mirror whose whole design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world-into the most-shadowed places in the hearts of people and change some things in a few. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is the meaning of my life.
You may, if you choose, give meaning to life by what you do and what you are. You will make a difference in the world if you let your light shine. You can turn Christmas into a year-round reality if you take the little mirror from the offering plate and let it remind you that the light of Christ journeys with you every day. Amen.
(story from the book, It Was On Fire When I Lay Down On It, by Robert Fulghum, the same guy who wrote All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten)
Outline for 5 PM Meditation (based on Whole People of God curriculum)
"Holy Night, Blessed Night" Jack Lohr, Interim Pastor
What makes a night holy? What makes a night blessed? (read words from cover)
Tonight we can welcome Jesus to be born into our lives. Let me invite you to close your eyes… Imagine yourself as a tiny baby about to be born.
It’s dark; it’s peaceful; it’s safe; and it’s getting crowded.
Now imagine you are born!
You stretch,... take a deep breath—your very first! You look around, and everything you see
and hear and smell and taste and touch is new and wonderful.
Imagine being held in loving arms. Imagine feeling safe and warm and content.
Now, be yourself again, and open your eyes
You are here, surrounded by God’s family.
Look around: Every person you see is much like you:
wanting to be loved, wanting to give love, wanting life to be new and exciting and joyous.
Every person you see is precious to God,
as precious as a newborn baby, as precious as every other part of creation, as precious as you.
Now imagine that you are holding a baby tenderly in your arms. (cradle an imaginary baby.)
Imagine that you are rocking the baby gently.
Gaze into the baby’s eyes.
Think of the hopes and dreams that you have for this child.
Now imagine that you are holding the Christ Child—baby Jesus
Imagine that what you are holding is every hope and dream you have ever had.
Imagine you are holding the hopes and dreams of every person on earth.
Imagine you are holding God’s hopes.
(Pause)
And now let us stop imagining.
Let us really and truly hold close our hopes and dreams for God’s peace on earth.
Let us really and truly love one another as God loves us.
Let us truly welcome the newborn Christ into our lives as we sing one verse of Away in a Manger!
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