This Advent, the readings that have caught my attention really call me to attention about how I respond to things that are new and different and outside of my “normal” experience in life.
Thinking about what
Jesus’ coming means to the world, I am reminded of a story my friend once told.
First, does everyone remember dial-up internet? When it would connect to your
computer, the way it would sound, lots of dings, static, dongs, that khhhh
noise?
My friend used to
work as a telephone operator. When internet started being put into people’s
homes, she would tell them, you are going to hear something completely new – do
not be alarmed, it is supposed to sound strange, but it will connect you to the
world wide web.
This is my
understanding of what Christmas is calling me to this year – when Jesus came
into this world, he did not come in a way anyone would expect. He did not enter
in a clean, everything-in-order, powerful way. He came as a baby, born into an
unwed couple, who were refugees fleeing from the violence of Herod killing all
young boys, in the middle of the night, in a stable, there right in the midst
of the cows and sheep. And I think the angel’s song that night to the shepherds
might have resembled what my friend told people over the operator line: “You
are going to hear something completely new – do not be alarmed, it is supposed
to sound a bit strange, but he will connect you to the world in an entirely new
and wonderful way.”
I had the
privilege of living as an overseas volunteer in Uganda, in Eastern Africa.
One of the privileges of my having that experience is that when I entered into
such a different culture, I did not expect to hear things I already knew or see
things I normally saw. I did not expect to understand much of anything. So,
when I expect to be surprised by newness, to be graced by something never
before understood to me, most things appear as a blessing, appear as something
being touched by God, and I tend to have more space in my heart for them. Sometimes
that went smoothly, other times not as much.
One day, I was taking an afternoon
off, and went into the closest town to our village. As I was walking down the
street, some street children began following me closely, more closely than I
felt comfortable. They were asking me for things and making jokes in the local
language. I turned around and said, "Abaana,
muvaio!" – Children, move back, you are too close! They all stopped and stared
at me with their eyes wide open, then erupted into laughter. One boy, who I
later learned his name is Moses, started asking me how I knew their language,
and to my surprise, invited me to sit and talk with them. We spent the next
hour talking and laughing and learning. In response to my not very kind, judgmental,
and frankly a bit fearful response to them, I did not expect to hear an
invitation. I did not expect to gain new friends who I visited each time I went
into town thereafter. Yet I was connected to the world, to myself, and to God
in an entirely new and wonderful way.
When God came to Earth, he came as a
human, a part of daily normal life. When I remind myself that I am still in
mission in my normal daily life; I am still called to be a missionary disciple
even when I am back here in the United States, I feel challenged to recall that
the invitation to encounter and share the journey may come from someone who is
not powerful, who doesn’t fit my ideas of a “leader” or “world-changer,” and
who might defy my ideas of culture. I recall that I am called to leave judgment
aside, and to listen with open ears, see with eyes of newness, and feel with a
heart open to God. I invite you to join me in asking ourselves, as Pope Francis asks, "Are we open to Gods surprises? Or are we
closed and fearful before the newness of the Holy Spirit? Do we have the
courage to strike out along the new paths which God’s newness sets before us?"
