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Back to Sermon Index STARS OF WONDER, STORIES OF HOPE, PROMISES OF PEACE A Sermon by the Rev. Susan Manker-Seale (Song: “Christmas in the Trenches,” by John McCutcheon) Men trapped amidst the horrors of battle, sitting in the night and remembering a Christmas that hadn’t come, and then hearing a single voice singing a carol, in a foreign tongue, yet powerful enough to inspire a common response in every heart! John McCutcheon’s song about “Christmas in the Trenches” is supposed to be a true story of what happened one Christmas during World War I. It was a story in danger of being forgotten, of being denied that it ever happened. The power of McCutcheon’s music brought back the story and it’s message, just as the carols the soldiers sung had the power to stop the war if only for a while. The scene is representative of the world in strife and the transformative power of our religious traditions to remind us that war cannot divide us if we decide to sing together those songs of peace on earth and good will to all. Two thousand years ago, the writers of the Gospel of Luke told the story of the birth of Jesus, and the message the angels sang for us was of peace on earth and good will to all. It has become, for many people, the most important religious message. Yet even as we repeat it every year at Christmas time, the world still has not responded. We still do not have peace over all the earth and in every heart good will. That doesn’t stop us from singing, though, in the midst of worry, war, and strife. We still look to the stars in wonder, retell the stories of hope that have become the foundation of our holiday traditions, and dream of peace. What is our battleground today? I don’t mean the war in Iraq, which is a very real battleground for those brothers and sisters serving right now - would that they could have a time of reconciliation this Christmas, of peace and brother/sisterhood, now that Saddam has been captured. But the people in Iraq don’t celebrate the same holidays as the people of the United States, and the power of common tradition is weak. No Christmas in the trenches could happen there, I’d wager. But we could hope for some other sort of miracle, as yet unforeseen. How could anyone have foreseen such an event as in McCutcheon’s song? But here we are, not in Iraq, but still dealing with our own worries and strife, including our unhappiness about the war and our loved ones in danger. Our daily lives right here can feel like another sort of battleground at times. Just last week, Kat told us about someone shooting a bee bee gun at one of the GBLT youths walking outside Wingspan after the Eon dance Saturday night. Eon is the youth support group for our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender youth and an arm of Wingspan. Here is a battle on our own turf, a war of bigotry, a war against equal rights. I am reminded also of those young people shot and killed in drug disputes and drive-bys in our neighborhoods of Tucson. It’s going on all the time, this drug war. The border war, too, claims so many lives every year, mostly from the coyotes deserting their clients in the heart of summer to die of thirst. How will we ever have peace on earth? Our religious wars are going strong as well, not claiming so many lives, but definitely maiming them. A month ago or so I read about an effort in Texas to boycott the construction of the new Planned Parenthood clinic. The radical religious urged the people who owned the businesses involved to halt the building and to refuse to participate in anything to do with it. And just last Sunday, one of our members gave me a copy of a newspaper article in which the minister of the Anglican church here in Tucson was proudly publishing their bigotry and inviting those of similar persuasion to join them. Where is the good will? Joblessness, homelessness, illness and starvation are the common problems of our community and the world that we remember this time of year, but they affect people right here in this room on a daily basis. Maybe not starvation. But homelessness does threaten some, and illness walks hand in hand with others. Some wonder when the next job will come, if ever. We live with a sense of despair sitting right next to us, and yet, we find we do go on. We do find hope, and one of the greatest sources of that hope is this group of people, and any group of people, who are not afraid to reach out to others with good will. The stories we tell at the holidays are another source of hope. Whether sung in carols or told in candlelight, they are powerful reminders that we have choices in our lives. We can choose the path of peace, we can choose to have hope, and know we are responding to common human desires expressed for millennia. If the major religious message of the angels two thousand years ago was for peace on earth and good will to all, what does that say about the condition of human societies for millennia before that? How long have we yearned for, hoped for, peace and good will? To be human is to be a participant in a universal search for hope for a world of peace and goodwill to all. Our religious heritage is filled with stories and symbols of hope. One common story with many versions is the story of the search for hope as symbolized in the baby Jesus as the Christ Child. The Magi, seeing a wondrous, guiding star shining in the east, journey long and far, bearing gifts for the hope they seek. The three gifts they brought had special meanings: the gold represented kingship, the frankincense was associated with holiness and prayer, and the myrrh was used in healing. The Italians have a version of that story about an old widow, called La Befana, who used to sweep the house all the time to keep her mind off the loss of her child from the plague. When the Magi passed her home on their way to Bethlehem, they invited her to come with them, but she declined, since she had so much work to do. After they left, she regretted not going with them, and tried to catch up, but never found them. She continues to wander the world, flying from house to house on her broomstick, filling stockings with gifts for the good children, and coal for the bad. In Russia, La Befana is called Baboushka, and their names derive from the word “Epiphany,” which is the 6th of January, the day the Wise Men gave their gifts to Jesus. (The Christmas Almanac, by Stephenson, p108-109) These tales are symbolic of every person’s journey in search of hope throughout life. They also touch us with the story of the compassionate being who knows us and gives us gifts, an expression of holy good will. St. Nicholas, as a real bishop in Myra, Asia Minor, in the early fourth century, perhaps tried to emulate the Magi by giving anonymous gifts at night. He is remembered for his kindness and was sainted by the ninth century. He is the patron saint of children, and people celebrate the eve of his death, December 5th, by giving presents in his honor. Tales about St. Nicholas have morphed into many shapes and types over the centuries, including the association with the gift-giving of the Magi, Befana, and Baboushka. Swedish children are visited by an elf named Jultomten, who, with his long white beard and red cap, brings gifts on Christmas Eve riding on a sleigh pulled by a goat. German children believe that Christkindl, or Christ Child, brings them presents by riding on a white donkey, so they leave hay out for the animal. Our Santa Claus probably got his reindeer sleigh from an old myth about the God Thor who rode through the sky in a chariot pulled by reindeer. So many tales have been told through the centuries, carrying so much hope for an act of compassion or good will. The Pastorela is a story enacted in latino communities that expresses the search for hope and good will as Mary and Joseph walk the town knocking on doors and asking for room for the night. They are turned away until the very end when someone lets them in. This story must hold a lot of power for those who are homeless today, or feeling lost. How many times do we ask for help, only to be turned away? The message of persistence in the midst of suffering is a powerful one, and identification with the holy child’s parents would be as well. The celebration of the Solstice is a story of hope, as is the story of Hanukkah, which also includes the giving of gifts on each of the eight days. Kwanzaa is an expression of hope in the celebration of values which strengthen our children’s identity. This has become a time of year to recognize that hope abides in our hearts at all times if we look deep enough, and to rejoice in the love and compassion that humans are capable of. Songs like “Christmas in the Trenches” remind us of the power of that love and compassion, even in the worst of times and places. The Unitarian writer Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem in the midst of the Civil War on Christmas Eve, six months after the Battle of Gettysburg. He used the Christmas symbol of bells to express his hope for peace. Nine years later, the melody was added to turn it into the carol we know:
Longfellow expresses the despair and the hope that the men in the trenches must have been feeling half a century later in another war. Perhaps they even sang the song on Christmas Eve, stopping the fighting, healing the wounded hearts of enemy and friend alike. For two thousand years we have sung “th’unbroken song of peace on earth, to all good will,” from the angels bending near the earth, to the soldiers fighting in the trenches. We journey far and wide in search of symbols of hope, looking in wonder at stars, holding tightly to promises for peace. When and where will we find them? Now and never. Nowhere and all places. The everlasting yearning of humanity is for “a voice, a chime, a chant sublime of peace on earth, to all good will.” May you join in the song of the angels and the soldiers once again this Christmas Eve. Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Northwest Tucson Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Northwest Tucson |