At Christmas
time, I see many colors
This is one
of the joys of Christmas, the colors.
The colors
on the tree, the colors in the windows
Oh yes, I
see many colors at Christmas.
I see greens
in wreaths that grace doorways
I see velvet
on Mary and I see velvet on little girl’s dresses
I see straw
yellow around Jesus and in my golden retriever running around the tree
I see sparkling
rubies in wise men’s robes and I see sparking ornaments on Christmas trees.
***
I remember
my first Christmas after my grandmother died.
I expected
bright gold as I anticipated seeing her again
Gold, something
bright, something eternal, something lovely
I knew I
wouldn’t see her again on Christmas, for she had died
But I
expected colors. Bright colors that
would somehow tell me
I’m here Rob.
I did not
hear that voice.
I did not
see gold.
That year I
saw purple.
Purple, the
color of Lent, the season before Easter.
The season
in which we walk with Jesus to the cross.
That was an
odd color to see on Christmas Eve
A color I
associate with fasting, discipline and even death…
Purple is a
part of Christmas though, as the hymn reminds us:
Nails, nails
shall pierce him through, a cross be born for me and you.
But I did
not want to see this color.
I wanted to a
soft glow emerge from the manger, to see that life wins, to see joy unfolding
before my eyes
I wanted to
see everything put back together
I wanted my
family put back together.
***
This year I
have seen a lot of red and black;
I have seen
the posters and signs UV stickers that tell me
In red and
black
Warwick
Strong
At first I
understood the what and why of this slogan
We wanted to
come together and stand united in the face of death
As if
As if
As if we
could fight it ourselves, somehow stand up and not let it get the last laugh
But death is
a mighty foe, one whose weapons are ancient and unrelenting.
And so, I’ve
begun to say, ever so softly
Warwick weep
Weep for
your children
Weep for your loss of innocence.
Weep
because we are out of words
Weep
Warwick weep
***
We may be
out of words, but this world, this world that God made, is not out of colors
No, Christmas
still has it’s colors: red, black,
green, blue
But is there
gold?
Yes.
The gold of
the angels, the gold of the magi, the gold of the Christ child is there
Do not fear
if you cannot see the gold this year
If all you
can see is purple or blue or red or some other color
For there is
Gold, there is a promise of God’s love
There is a
promise of hope that even death will finally kneel
And adore on
bended knee the new born king
A coda
My desire is
to wrap Christmas in a beautiful bow
To cover up
all the grief in streams of gold and silver and glory
As if grief
was simply a stage, something to be dealt with
Something
that could be packaged
But I know
it is not.
Grief is too
powerful, too present, too elusive for this.
Oh how I
long to put it all back together
The pastor’s,
the care-givers’ torture
To realize
we cannot put humpty dumpty back together
And heal
every heart
And make Christmas
back to the way it was, it is and ever more shall be. Forever.
Amen.
I offer no
packages of grief boxed up and painted over.
I offer a
promise:
The Christ
child’s love is big enough.
Big enough
to handle your grief,
your sadness
your anxiety
or whatever else you bring tonight.
For unto
you, whatever color you see, a savior is born.
