O little town of Bethlehem"That doesn't make sense," she says. I explain the conceit of the song: "We're singing to the town of Bethlehem," I say. "The city is sleeping, but the light of Jesus is shining because that's where he is born." This seems to satisfy her.
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
We look at the second verse:
For Christ is born of MaryIt's the syntax of the first part that throws her. "It's the angels that are gathered all above," I explain. "Keeping watch."
And gathered all above
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love
O morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth
And praises sing to God the King
And Peace to men on earth
"Of wondering love," she says.
"Right," I say, "and the stars are proclaiming the birth and praising God."
"Peace," she says, almost contemptuously. "There is no peace. There will never be peace."
This seems to come from nowhere. Wow, I think to myself, that's a little dark, though I am not unsympathetic. "That's why," I say, "we need to keep the hope of the peace of Jesus." That sounds Christmas-y, right?
"But Jesus already came," she says.
"Well, yeah." I am not sure where to go with this.
"So he's coming again?"
We've been through this before. "Well, I don't think so," I say, "but that's not what I think hope is about."
"Did they think that?" They, I think, means whoever wrote the song.
"Well, maybe," I say. "But Jesus comes to us wherever we seek that peace. There are times where the bad thing we're sure should happen doesn't, and the good thing we think is impossible happens anyway. Where we find ourselves capable of peace and surprise ourselves. Times when we share bread with a neighbor, or take the time to listen. When we forgive even though it's hard, when we refuse to repay evil for evil, or when we let go of what we think should be ours because someone else needs it. Those moments come to us sometimes as a gift, when we're not expecting it, like Jesus came to Bethlehem."
"Cool," she says. "Do you think they'll have cookies at church?"
2 comments:
Great post. I especially liked the post you linked about how you discussed the misconception of the 2nd coming with your daughter. I'm dreading the time my kids have questions. We stopped discussing christianity at home when my doubt went extreme. Perhaps it is time to dust off the books...but am i ready? Where do you attend church and are they supportive?
LaC: Thank you for stopping by. I've seen (and enjoyed) your blog. We have some things in common, certainly.
The "what about the kids?" factor is huge, really. I've tried to strike a balance, honoring what they're learning in church, and what I suspect is the kind of religious thinking they need relative to their level of growth, and being honest about where I am and what I think.
Up until very recently, I've been on staff at some evangelical church or another (and, at one point, faculty of a Christian college), and I've always been "in the closet." I always felt it was too much to ask the kinds of churches I've been at to really understand.
Recently, however, that role for me has wrapped up and I've taken the opportunity to "come out" to one of our elders (who is also a university colleague, though in a dif. department) and our senior pastor, both of whom showed great understanding. So maybe there's hope. I've been working on a much longer blog post about this, actually.
It's also possible that a liberal mainline church or a local "emerging church" experiment might be supportive of us "dark night" Christians. That hasn't seemed to the answer for me, but it's there.
Finally, you might find Ruth Tucker's Walking Away from Faith interesting.
Thanks again -- and Merry Christmas. :)
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