On Waxing Nostalgic...

    My Grandma had a candy dish. I struggle to describe it - it was not of any particular shape, it was sort of oblong, but was multicolored, and sort of scalloped at the top. As if it had been poured over a banister post, and left to drip until it was dry. But in that dish she kept pink and white confectioner's lozenges. Grandma was a diabetic, and every once in a while, her blood sugar would drop to a dangerous level, and she would need sugar quickly. I remember loving the white lozenges when I was younger, because they were peppermint, my favorite. (The pink ones always reminded me of Pepto-bismol.) But Grandma would only let me have one or two, because she knew that if I was left on my own, I'd eat the whole bowl, and she'd be in dire straits if her glucose ever dropped. So, in effect, they were a sort of "medicine" for Grandma.

    Ironically, the only time that dish had anything other than those pink and white lozenges was at Christmas time. During the holiday season, she would put hard, ribbon candy in the dish. That was for everyone to share. (She must've kept her lozenges hidden away for emergencies.) The hard candies in that dish during the holiday seasons were stickier, and I'd usually have to break them apart to get the piece that I really liked. Usually by the end of the day, only those flavors that I didn't like would be left in the bowl. And I would somehow muster up the courage to eat those, too.

    Christmas time always brings out the nostalgia in us, doesn't it? We reminisce about Christmases past, about loved ones we miss but see no more, about times with families, Christmas eve worship services with children dressed up as angels or sheep or camels, the decorations both inside and out, presents beneath the tree, and the joy that seemed to waft in the air like low-hanging fruit waiting to be plucked and savored. Memories that draw us back to a different time, when things seemed simpler (although I am often reminded that they really weren't - different, perhaps, but not simpler). 

    Undoubtably, this year has brought about so many changes that it is hard to keep count. Children's Christmas pageants, carolling door to door, large family gatherings around sumptuous feasts, Candlelight services in filled sanctuaries recalling the Nativity, all seem to be rather distant this year. And I wonder, will we ever return to that?

    Of course, fear is ever waiting in the wings to step out onstage. My fears are that we'll somehow become complacent in all these things, resigned to the fact that life will forever be different. Change has a way of doing that, especially when we've encountered so much radical change to our way of life. Traditions that were long held may give way to becoming only distant memories - like a candy dish from our childhood. Sweet once upon a time, but now, just another dusty memory.

    Oh, how the faithful people must have felt back then - waiting over four hundred years for the Messiah to show up. FOUR HUNDRED YEARS. After a while, hope gives way to dreams of what once was promised, but now may never be. Resignation sets in. Surrender to the new realities of occupation, taxation, persecution. There may have been some fight left, but it had long since had enough strength to wage any sort of defense.

    And then something strange happens. Two planets align creating a star-like light so bright that one cannot help but take notice. In a tired, backwoods village sleepy shepherds are awakened from their dull, monotonous lives to a bright light surrounding an Angel who boldly proclaims to them, "Don't be afraid!" And the good news - the GOSPEL - is first proclaimed!

    The ramifications of that one moment are enormous! Prophets would no longer be needed. Scripture has come to life before their very eyes! The WORD has become FLESH! The promise of Isaiah has come true! Emanuel is here! Almighty God - YAHWEH - has become one of us in order to save us! Rescued from our anesthetized routines into an eternal relationship with the Creator of all there is, was, and evermore shall be! The holy boldness of an Everlasting Father has come to his Children (you and me!) through the gift of this small infant, who would one day in about thirty three years offer himself as the final sin offering for all of humanity. 

    And nothing will be the same again.

    But somehow, this time it will be okay. Because what we shall become has in reality what we've been longing for all along in our nostalgic reminisces - we'll be home here and now. 

    And that is sweeter than any hard ribbon candy I can ever imagine.

    See you in Church!