BETHESDA PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH
Lessons & Carols
Christmas Eve Meditation 2009
Be Secure? Or, “Fear Not"?
Once again, we approach Christmas.
Lessons & Carols
Christmas Eve Meditation 2009
Be Secure? Or, “Fear Not"?
Once again, we approach Christmas.
Celebrations aside: Can we really do a whole lot more than approach it?
Bethlehem beckons; our faith is renewed. Yet, amidst our comfortable clamor, those struggling to remain faithful here and abroad are struggling as well with fear. Especially that fear that’s forgotten to breathe known as anxiety.
The faithful are struggling, abroad and near, with anxiety over terrorist reprisals that come from the hand not simply of the downtrodden, but of the truly desperate. The fleeced of the earth, keeping watch over what remains of their flocks by night.
In attempting to thwart these reprisals, yet only in the end ennobling them, and more of them: The faithful are struggling with anxiety, more abroad than near, over the human – inhuman – costs of wars. Wars its neatly packaged planners with neatly packaged plans execute – far, far away from those most deeply affected – with the precise delusion found only in the soul of the addict.
And the faithful worldwide are struggling with anxiety – and this is all too near – over the loss of livelihood and living standards, of homes and health care. (For the last of these: What might the promise of this particular Christmas Eve hold?)
The faithful of God’s world struggle, with fear of – with anxiety over. The degradation of all of God’s creation – based on pandemic poverty and a world awash in weapons.
Fear of – and anxiety over. Dare we draw near to the manger, when we’re busy drawing lines? Dare we do a whole lot more this year than approach Christmas?
Bethlehem beckons; our faith is renewed. Yet, amidst our comfortable clamor, those struggling to remain faithful here and abroad are struggling as well with fear. Especially that fear that’s forgotten to breathe known as anxiety.
The faithful are struggling, abroad and near, with anxiety over terrorist reprisals that come from the hand not simply of the downtrodden, but of the truly desperate. The fleeced of the earth, keeping watch over what remains of their flocks by night.
In attempting to thwart these reprisals, yet only in the end ennobling them, and more of them: The faithful are struggling with anxiety, more abroad than near, over the human – inhuman – costs of wars. Wars its neatly packaged planners with neatly packaged plans execute – far, far away from those most deeply affected – with the precise delusion found only in the soul of the addict.
And the faithful worldwide are struggling with anxiety – and this is all too near – over the loss of livelihood and living standards, of homes and health care. (For the last of these: What might the promise of this particular Christmas Eve hold?)
The faithful of God’s world struggle, with fear of – with anxiety over. The degradation of all of God’s creation – based on pandemic poverty and a world awash in weapons.
Fear of – and anxiety over. Dare we draw near to the manger, when we’re busy drawing lines? Dare we do a whole lot more this year than approach Christmas?
For approach it we must! For in the consumer midst of this consuming climate of fear and anxiety, we hear once again that ancient assurance of the heavenly host to the foulest, filthiest, most unrespectable persons on the planet: “Fear not!”
“Fear not!” Spoken to shepherds sore afraid – and why shouldn’t they be? They understood, more than most of us ever could, the fragility of life when confronted with a power beyond their control. A power that could destroy them; a power that could save them. And yet, we can rightly imagine their natural, instinctive response to their fear: To seek protection and security. To draw closer to one another. To pull the wool over their own eyes.
And yet: What protection and security could they find? And can we find? Tending what we have on the wastelands of our lives under the cover of nothing more than our starlit nights?
They couldn’t. The “fear not!” was too strong. And so they dared to approach – to draw near – to Christmas.
If the angels’ two-word command proved so comforting – so consuming – so compelling, to these unimaginably vulnerable shepherds … if their presence and those words could break the cycle of war and terrorism, beginning with those most fleeced … What have we to learn from these shepherds this Christmas? Is it to promote security – the hue and cry of our land? Economic … Homeland … National security?
From scriptures to devotionals, no major faith or faith communion I know commends that spiritual value – “Be secure!” – very highly. And yet, every scripture and every guidebook of every faith or faith communion I know commends to us its antidote: “Fear not!”
So what will it be, on our Christmas tables this year: Security through fear? Or, freedom from fear?
As a nation … as a church … as simply being human goes: We are beginning to realize the ghastly – the grotesque – the mass murderous cost of the former. Yet, what might this strange and strangely painful offering of freedom from fear promise us, instead?
The angels know. They do. “For behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be for all people.”
All our Christmas celebrating notwithstanding: What more can these homeless, defenseless, and now fearless shepherds teach us about drawing near to Bethlehem, once and for all?
What more can they teach us, but to fear not … so we can rejoice?
