For those of us who follow the traditional Christian year, it’s still Christmas until Epiphany comes next week with the arrival of the Magi. But today’s Gospel story* seems to come out of order— the Magi have already come and gone, leaving danger behind along with their peculiar baby gifts. On the strength of a dream, Joseph and Mary take the infant Jesus off to Egypt to escape Herod’s murderous fear and anger. Sometime later, Joseph has another dream letting him know that it is safe to return to Judea. On the way, yet another dream tells him that Galilee will be safer than Judea, so they go to make a home in Nazareth.
In the world outside the church, everything around us seems to be filled with sadness and warnings. Like the Magi, Christmas has already come and gone for most people. All the presents are unwrapped, the tree is drying out, the tinsel is looking bedraggled, and all that’s left of everyone’s favorite cookies is crumbs. While there are still some after-Christmas bargains, the shops look a bit bedraggled, too, with their untidy shelves, picked-over stock, and bored-looking salespeople getting ready for the end-of-year inventory. It’s hard to hear the tidings of comfort and joy when I turn on the morning news.
Even though it is still officially Christmas, my dreams, like Joseph’s, are no longer filled with sugarplums and angelic hosts singing about peace on earth and good news to all. Instead, like Joseph, I’m having nightmares of vengeful politicians in places of power, of innocent children dying on our borders and in our cities, of ecological death and destruction on a scale matched only by Noah’s flood.
But the angelic hosts are still singing, however faint their song has become. If I listen closely, I can still hear a silent song of hope when I watch the bony fingers of the trees scratch against the roiling, gray sky. I can just make out the glad tidings in the morning song of the birds outside my window, fluffing up their feathers and sitting close together to keep one another warm. The angels still sing in the warm-hearted laughter of friends and loved ones, sharing a meal or a walk or a hug at the end of a busy day; in the smile of the driver who greets everyone who gets on the bus; and in the countless gestures of kindness and courage that never make the news broadcasts that are filled, instead, with sorrow and suffering. Today’s Gospel reminds us that, like Joseph and Mary, we can still take action on the strength of a dream.
- Where do you hear the angels singing?
- What is the future that you dream of?
- What can you do to make that future real?
–Deborah Sokolove, Seekers Church
