I think it's almost impossible to read the Christmas story and not see the value of peace. Our culture is good at many things, but creating periods of quiet is not one of them. We have long to-do lists, wait impatiently in traffic, struggle to keep our heads above water, and struggle to find hope in our political leaders as we are faced with almost insurmountable challenges.
There is a painting that I have always admired, which hangs in the National Gallery in London. It was painted in the 1620s by Philippe de Champaigne and is titled “The Dream of St. Joseph.” Joseph and Mary are shown at home during Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus. Joseph has come home from work at the end of a long day and is asleep on a chair, with his carpentry tools and sandals strewn at his feet. It’s a simple room, with a rough rug under his feet. Mary, awake and sitting at a table in the background, watches as an angel flies over Joseph to deliver a message: that he should not dismiss Mary because of her pregnancy. It’s not a scene of trumpet-blaring glory, but a humble and important moment. Deep wisdom comes in the quiet times.
This year — well, actually the past few years — have held a lot of tragedy, much of which we haven’t had time to acknowledge as we are almost suffocated by the challenges of our times. The recent pandemic took the lives of over a million people in this country and robbed almost everyone else of moments that can never be reclaimed. Economic implications destroyed millions in savings, plunging many businesses into ruin, and forcing families to make horrible choices such as picking either food, housing, or health.
And the toll has weakened many of our institutions, as well. Many churches have closed over the past few years, and we have seen a sobering impact in the next generations views on spiritual things. But it's not only churches that are gone, of course. More than anything many of us have lost our “third places” — that is, those institutions outside of our home and work that sustain us: churches, fraternal organizations, community groups, informal sports leagues, hobbies, etc. Our minds have been reprogrammed to rely more upon the solitary experience of exploring the internet, which even though it promises a hint of community, can not truly replace these third places; it can never give us the human connection available in spaces where all of our senses can be engaged. The internet cannot give us the scent of a church supper, the laughter when gathering together, the feeling of a hug from a neighbor.
But then we have Christmas.
Stripped to its essentials, it is a new beginning, a birth shared by millions. Like any new birth, it shook things up. Both the humble (the shepherds) and the proud (the Magi) were told of it, and the mere idea of it enraged the political leader (Herod) so much that he ordered that all infants born in Bethlehem be killed.
But when that birth actually happened, it was not a cacophony, but a still, small moment; Silent Night. In the shepherds praising God on the hillside, in the divine moments in a crowded manger, through the journey of the wise men, there was peace. A peace that only God can give, no matter the situations we are facing. And in peace there is often times quiet. Perhaps fleeting moments of reflection but divine connections that hopefully ignite the feeling of peace in all of us. May the promise of the birth of our Savior grant hope to all of us as we seek to restore ourselves and this broken world.
