Another Imperfect Christmas is over
In the perfect Christmas Eve scene, the candles are all lit and haven’t stopped dripping on the tablecloth yet. My make up is perfectly smeared and I haven’t teared up yet, releasing any mascara onto my white cashmere sweater. The turkey is bronzed or the ham is glazed. No one dares touch it or stick their fingers in any of the sides, so beautifully proportioned are they on platters that permit a near marriage of green bean and plate. The perfectly wrapped gifts sit next to the perfectly decorated, well-chosen tree in a spotless living room. Not one of the guests has parked their car on the lawn.
Once again the magazine scene did not happen in my home. The soup sprayed all over the microwave and the dog walked off with the ham.
What most people want to do is get into their pajamas, the comfortable ones that don’t match. But that glow, that perfectionist glow compels us all to the tableau. No one wants to be asked to “give the blessing” because no words would really work. So, we return to an old family favorite, worn as the pajamas are, and hold hands. “Bless this food, O God, and us to thy service.” We don’t use the word thy much except on nights like this. Or “Come Lord Jesus be our guest and let thy gifts to us be blessed.” Or “Rub a dub dub, three kids in a tub, please bless our grub.” The prayer gives just enough pause for the reminder that we are lucky people. “I thank thee God that I am not like other people?” No, not that way. The true gratitude is what the perfect purports. We ache for everyone in the world to eat as well as we will tonight. But this is not the time to mention it, even though you could count on the baby Jesus doing it.
While we help the chef with the dishes, and some smoke cigars or drink brandy, when we figure out how to get whoever is drinking too much to not drink any more, when the great mess begins and presents are opened so that you need a walking stick to get through the room safely and the kids have started fighting, when we finally relax into the glow of the Christmas tree lights, Christmas begins. Yes, this is a Howard Thurman imitation. We give intimates a good quick look and say thank you God for that one and that one and that one. We breathe.
We realize the strength of the theology of the incarnation. Its holiness put in human packages. It is perfect: linking heaven to earth, time to eternity, body to soul, God in human. A baby human at that. Wow. What a mess! Diapers and all.
When God made the decision to come in human form, God voted for imperfection. Incompleteness. A stab at beauty not an ownership.
Long Lay the world in sin and error pining, till the imperfections of holiness arrived. Wow.
Howard Thurman’s Prayer: The Work of Christmas**
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among all,
To make music in the heart.
Howard Thurman (1899 – 1981), was a key figure in the life of the USA during the 20th century. Thurman was an author, philosopher, theologian, educator and civil rights leader. He was also an early leader and mentor in the nonviolence movement that shaped and included Martin Luther King, Jr.
Rev Dr. Donna Schaper wrote a book 40 Days with Howard Thurman, after her husband Warren Goldstein gave her the best Christmas/Hannukah Present ever. It was the complete works of Howard Thurman, which consisted of 19 out of print books. Donna believes his best book, in print, is JESUS AND THE DISINHERITED.
**Howard Thurman, from The Mood of Christmas, p. 23 Published and copyrighted by Friends United Press, 1985