Boxing Up Hope

Friday, January 7, 2022

John Wesley Hardrick, “Winter Landscape” 1935

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INVOCATION

Come, Spirit. Do the strange, the mysterious, and the wonderful.

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EPIPHANY

Every year, before we frost it with lights or a single ornament, we give our Christmas tree a name. This year was Burt, I think. And every year, once it’s coated with our love and affection—memories and tiny treasures cloaked with a gazillion lights—we say to one another, “I wish we could keep a tree up every day of the year.” We sigh and nod in agreement until one of us cautions, “But then it wouldn’t be special.” Then, we turn out all the lights. My husband makes hot drinks. We open the tin of Quality Street chocolates and watch A Charlie Brown Christmas. This is our season opening – a ritual of bedazzling light. 

But we have no sweet ritual for the day we take down the tree and all the bits and bobs of delight bespeckling every corner and surface of our home. There’s no memorable way to pack up the snow globe, the stockings, the myriad of gnomes (I can’t help myself, I’m obsessed with them), the stacks of Christmas books, the pillows, the blankets, the ceramic trees and tiny village houses, the box of stars, or the Christmas mouse. Come to think of it, I do despondently sigh and whisper to our favorite ones how much I’ll miss them – my own secret ritual. 

It’s sad to pack away things that have only one purpose: to bring merriment and joy. It seems mad and strange that we would store away illuminants of our fullness and happiness, particularly when the world isn’t so full or happy these days. But we do. We strip the trees of light and sweep the needles and glitter away. 

Yet, there is hope! After all, we don’t chuck it all into the dumpster. We don’t smash the ornaments or throw away our stockings and gnomes. We wrap each one tenderly because we *hope* to see them again next year. 

So maybe, just maybe, while we’re packing and storing, we’re really practicing hope as a ritual. And we do it in anticipation of the Christmas season to come. 

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INTERCESSION

O Winter Light, 
Some of us feel less delight without the ribbons, bright packages and light. 
We make an appeal for those who feel bereft, boxing away this season. 
Shouldn’t the world always be merry? 
Shouldn’t we always be like children anticipating Christmas as the realm of heaven touches earth? 
Brighten those whose spirits are dimming with a radiant hope
and jolly merriment the whole year through.

Amen

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CHANT

Light of the world.
Light of the world
The winter sun burns a radiant fire
to warm our hope. 
Light of the world. 

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BENEDICTION

The Work of Christmas by Howard Thurman 

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 flocks,
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 the people,
to make music in the heart.