“Yearning for a new way will not produce it. Only ending the old way can do that.
You cannot hold onto the old, all the while declaring that you want something new.
The old will defy the new;
The old will deny the new;
The old will decry the new.
There is only one way to bring in the new. You must make room for it.”
—Neale Donald Walsch
I’ve been silent since the election in 2016. Finding words has been difficult in these times. This Christmas, though, I am drawn back to the image I found in 2015 of the Middle Eastern couple and child in the stable.
As I remarked before, the golden halos are missing. This was before the birth narratives were written and the fine robes and incense of Christology became the central message and worship drove out following.
How do we, then, make room for this New? What of the Old must we give up?
In 2018 I’m going to write about this newness from my perspective as an elder. Seems to me that what pudding I liked the best when I was eight is missing the point. Jesus of Nazareth, ageism, sadness, transformation, love, and fear are subjects more to my liking.
I’ll see you next week!
There is a close connection between speed and impatience. Our culture has become so speeded up today that no one has time to be patient. People in a hurry cannot be patient—so people in a hurry cannot really love. To love, we need to be sensitive to those around us, which is impossible if we are racing through life engrossed in all the things we need to do.
Blue Mountain Journal Winter 2015
Part of Christmas for me in the past has been that the season was tied to the retail clock, which runs increasingly faster from the first of October through Christmas Eve. The increasing activity that runs toward Christmas morning didn’t leave any time for reflection, not that I’d have slowed down back then.
Now that I’m older I value my quiet and withdraw from the popular culture and commercial frenzy of the holidays.
I finally found the picture which gives meaning to me for Christmas. A Middle Eastern couple, resting in a stable after the birth of their child. No glowing halo on the baby’s head. A tired mother and a thoughtful father. Centuries of human theology and religion yet to come. The invitation for our transformation is here in the beginning, before all the pomp and circumstance, before all the hurry, in the poor circumstances of the child, in the repose of Mary and the quiet contemplation of Joseph.
Blessings and Merry Christmas!
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