Merry Christmas, from the Children (Sufjan Stevens)

This post starts out sad, but, much like Advent, turns into Christmas: Advent didn't end softly in my world. Yesterday, Christmas Eve, I sat with a family whose otherwise healthy child became dangerously ill that same morning. So instead of the normal last-minute holiday wrapping, cooking, and planning, the family gathered at the hospital and tearfully kept vigil over the balance between life and death of a toddler. And I sat with them.

This story could be another apt illustration of Advent need and lament. But to leave it as lament ignores that there is so much more that our faith offers. At the very least, what a strange wonder that this same night Christians the world over would celebrate the birth of the Christ child, God-with-us. That is: God-with-us here, in this, right now. In our joy and our pain.

Lindsey and I both have a soft spot for this tender little song, the Friendly Beasts, with its child-like language about Jesus' birth. Given all the sad news about children this year, from Sandy Hook all the way to this toddler's sudden illness, it seems only appropriate to let the children carry the lead in the music department today, because we could stand to re-learn from the wonder, the joy, the magic, and the play of how children experience the Christmas story.

Yet children aren't immune to the pain of life. Each family I visited on Christmas Eve in the children's hospital was accompanied by the young patients' siblings, worrying, but also wondering aloud about other important issues... like how Santa would leave presents in the hospital. Unsure and scared about their families, yes, but also hoping and joyful about the promises of this Christmas day. Filled with possibilities and magic, dreams and wild imaginings for what Christmas Day might bring to their lives in so many ways.

May it be so, truly so, for you and yours today.

Keep it Simple (Burt Bacharach)

There's something so deeply corny about a lot of Christmas music. All this smarmy singing about Santa's sleigh and chestnuts roasting and  letting it snow... as if those were the most important wishes on our list.

Yet even for those who celebrate Christmas but wouldn't consider themselves terribly religious, we know that most holiday hopes go deeper than that. And especially for those of us who observe Advent, we know that sometimes our hopes for the ourselves and the world can go so deep we don't even know how to say them.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

                                                                 - Romans 8:26

Despite the depth of our hopes, sometimes we look for the right words, and all we come up with is "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas." Or we want to talk about what we want Christmas to feel like, and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" just seems to sum it up. These songs can also wear on us after overplay in the mall, but sometimes it's good to just say the needs we have in simple language. It may be corny, but sometimes hoping for 'Santa' and love and peace is exactly what we're trying to say.

"Corny" pretty much sums up my perception of this song by Burt Bacharach. I first encountered this song in the kitchy film Austin Powers, which is sticky-sweet nonsense from beginning to end. Then, I heard the song on a retro-weekend on the radio the other day, and suddenly recognized Advent: is there any more sweetly cloying and totally true to say during Advent than "what the world needs now, is love, sweet love? No, not just for some, but for everyone."

May favorite part of this song is when it kicks into high gear with the uptempo psychedelic guitars. It's saying, yeah, this wish is true, but we're gonna' have a little fun with it, too! This is helpful, because I often forget the power of having fun and keeping it simple when it comes to saying our needs during Advent. But fancy words don't beat the plaintive power of being straightforward... as any of us could tell you who've yelled along to a pop song about love or good times in the car.

There's a certain virtue to corny. Isn't there something weirdly corny about our insistence on mangers and babies and fluffy lambs and stars on Christmas? This is the SON OF GOD we're talking about here, and we turn it into a story reenacted by eight year-olds. Yet as any of us know who've retold this corny story of God's birth among us, there's an incredible power in the simplicity and symbolism of the manger story, just as there's a majesty about John 1. 

My vote this year, as I say my needs and set out my hopes this first week of Advent is for BOTH: both the corny and the profound, the sweet and the bitter, the soothing night shadows and the bright light of a star. I choose Over the Rhine and Eliza Gilkyson who remind me of the yearning, aching, and profundity of this season. I also choose Burt Bacharach and Brenda Lee... and all the other corny songs that remind me that our hopes are simple and joyful and filled with hopefulness.

What corny hopes do you carry into this season, and how can you claim them without apologizing for their simplicity?

May you find the effervescence and delight of this season of Advent, the anticipation and the hopefulness, the playfulness that allows both our deepest and our most simple hopes to be named to God.

                                                                                               - Anna