Love to Overflowing

2ChristmasA, Sullivan Park Care Center, January 5, 2014 by Sr Annette Fricke, OP

            It is now January; the New Year has begun.  It is all new and yet it is all the same. It is another January, not unlike all the previous 56 Januarys of my life. I was with a church choir that practiced on Wednesdays and now I am with one that practices on Thursdays. This past Thursday night, as I arrived for choir practice eight minutes early, I voiced my opposition to practice, revealing my mood and by questioning reality, “Do we have practice tonight?  There’s nobody here.”  My passenger and fellow choir member asked me to back up because she did not want to walk too far after practice.  As I backed the car up, the vehicles of other choir members appeared by ones and by twos.  I became quickly assured that indeed there was choir tonight.  I entered the cathedral and walked to my spot where I hesitated to shed my coat.  I sat down ever so briefly, then, with quicker steps, hurried to the kitchen where usually there’d be coffee and hot water for tea.  I removed a cup from a stack and poured some hot water for tea.  Not expecting anything else in particular, I noted an array of sweets; among them was a container of Mozart chocolate candies.  How appropriate, I thought.  As I sat back down, devouring the sweets still in my hand, my thoughts returned to the outside.  Outside was a blanket of fog---had been for several days straight---a fog so thick that it was terrifying to drive anywhere and a contributing reminder of past causes of sadness and sorrow. For those of us who long to see the sunshine, it can be a source that promises to uplift and to cheer us on dreary, short winter days.  As a society, we see artificial lighting as a way to cope with the darkness of the season.  Some begin as early as Halloween putting up lights. People spend big money on lights for display and an abundance of candles adorn sanctuaries in churches, beginning with the Advent wreath candles that increase with each Sunday. Light makes the winter darkness bearable.  My own thoughts also briefly edge on the memory of Dad’s death near Christmas four years ago.

            For some, Christmas is over and the presents have been passed and the tree is down.  The only thing left is returning the gifts that did not fit our fancy and shopping once again for the best bargains. The extravagances of Christmas now become the reality of returning to the ordinariness of everyday life. The joy of the Christmas carols and processions, the greening of homes and churches become a distant din. Even further from the joy and the ordinariness, sometimes, the world overwhelmingly presents to us as a great fog.  The fog is so great; at times, we cannot see what may be right in front of us.  We want so much for the world to conform to our ideas that we often miss the opportunities to serve that are right in front of us.  We see Jesus plainly at Christmas as a baby, yet we fail to see the needs of those who are right in our own neighborhood.  We fail to see the needs of others because we still have our own issues that overwhelm us and block our view.  We are in constant need of self-examination, though we are sometimes blinded from seeing even that. And even with self-examination, we still need the will to change our selves because this fog will continue to blind us into thinking that all is well when it is not.

            Despite all that, it is God who gives us the grace in Jesus that is so great and far-reaching that no matter how badly our own relationships here on earth may have been, God’s grace is greater and will never fail.  It is rather like this story of a young child’s memory about burnt biscuits. 

            When I was a kid, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! All my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my Mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that ugly burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing...never made a face nor uttered a word about it! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I'll never forget what he said, "Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then." Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides--a little burned biscuit never hurt anyone!" As I've grown older, I've thought about that many times. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. I'm not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else. But what I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults and choosing to celebrate each other’s differences is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship.

            The daddy in the story gave an honest answer out of love and in the spirit of grace.  When in a loving relationship, the particulars do not matter near as much as the big picture.  The big picture is what we all need to keep in mind whenever we are tempted to complain about our lives or the relationships we have with others.  It is our responsibility to make things better.  It is usually not within our power to change other people, but it is in our power to change ourselves and how we respond to others.  Through the grace of God, we are given that power. The choice is ours every day as to how we will respond to that grace.

            “Grace and truth” did not cause their own appearance on earth. It happened to them. These all “came to be” because of a power beyond their control—namely God, who made and continues to make it happen. By God’s word, creation happened. By God’s will and miraculous conception, Jesus is born, the Word becomes flesh. By God’s activity, grace and truth were revealed to the world. So it is with our “becoming” children of God—or “being born from God.” Birth was something that happened to us. We didn’t make it happen. That is true whether we are talking about our first birth or our second birth as God’s children. Becoming children of God is something God does to us. The power of the incarnation, God becoming flesh in Jesus, is the power that makes us children of God. It is ours through faith— “believing in his name.”

            This text in John does not apply only to the first disciples or Christians, those who have gone before us in the faith; it applies equally to us.  This is an articulation of what we believe about God and what God has done for us by sending Jesus in the flesh to earth.  This is the faith that empowered them and this is the faith, if we believe what they have handed down to us throughout the ages, which empowers us---we who live here and now in this place. 

            Christmas cannot be just something that happened in the past in one point in time and space.  It is not just the joy and excitement of the heavenly hosts and the people of a far away time in a land many of us may never visit in our lifetimes.  Rather, Christmas is the fulfillment of God’s love for us in a concrete form.  It is about God’s love for all of humanity.  It is about God’s love for us, God’s everlasting love from before time.  Take hold of the love right now and allow the Holy Spirit to fill you with that love to overflowing and spilling out to all you meet. Amen.