Welcome to the Season of Magic and Miracles

Friends, we are now officially in the winter holiday season. Advent begins this Sunday, Hanukkah begins in two weeks, and we are entering the longest nights of the year as we approach yule and the winter solstice later this month. These are days of storytelling and star gazing—days for lighting candles and preparing our hearts to receive the sacred wisdom of this season. These are days for embracing mystery, but that’s sometimes easier said than done.

Recently, I decided to get in the holiday spirit by watching “A Christmas Carol.” I’ve heard the story countless times, but somehow the particular economic circumstances of the Cratchit family had never occurred to me. Clearly the family struggled financially, but Bob Cratchit must have some education to be able to manage Scrooge’s correspondences. What exactly did it mean to be a “clerk” in Victorian London anyway? Was it more like a secretary or an accountant? Was it that Scrooge paid significantly less than other businessmen who hired clerks? Or was 15 shillings a decent salary but with 4 kids, one of whom had significant complex health challenges, it wasn’t enough for the Cratchit’s particular circumstances.

So now rather than watching the movie, I was furiously googling articles about the economy of Victorian London. Ultimately, a Christmas Carol is an allegory and a morality tale. It’s a ghost story for goodness sakes, with spirits who facilitate time travel! As much as Dickens was concerned with the plight of London’s poor, the exact and accurate mechanics of the Victorian economy is not what makes the story so enduring. “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year,” reads the famous line from the original text. Although I got distracted during this watch, I’ve read the story enough times to know that the lessons it holds are not about the history of clerks in London.

It’s hard to remember a time when I didn’t have access to all of human knowledge in my pocket. When I would have a fleeting question or wondering and would just…wonder about it, then let it go. I think our recent ability to know everything immediately has somehow rewired our brains. We don’t have to experience not knowing little things anymore, so it makes those times when we don’t know big things especially anxiety producing. Who will win the midterm elections? How will we preserve democracy? How will we manage the climate crisis? Why are we here and what does it all mean? We lost the equivalent of practice tests or training runs for the very human experience of not knowing something.

The era we live in is called the information age for a reason. We worship at the altar of information, provided at lightning speeds. We stream events as they’re happening. We ingest this information like a sacrament. In this era, not knowing is increasingly unfamiliar and thus, increasingly uncomfortable. So, we try to get as much information as possible, even if it isn’t always helpful or true. We rush to answers, to explanations and certainties. But in the process, we lose our capacity to wonder and imagine. We forget that revelation isn’t closed and that we haven’t found all of the answers we need.

I’ve heard some people express dismay at the idea of celebrating the winter holidays too joyfully during a time of economic and political uncertainty. We face serious problems, they say, and now is not the time for flying reindeers, twinkling lights, and fantastical stories. But I think we need to lean into our holiday tradition now more than ever. Not as a form of escapism but as a way of keeping our hearts open to new possibilities.

So friends, this December, give yourself over to the mysteries and miracles of this season. Just live in them. Don’t try to explain them. Don’t spend too much time googling their historical origin.

Tell ghost stories that encourage us to be more giving and more joyful. Do not worry too much about if this ghost story is compatible with your theological beliefs about the afterlife. Believe the oil burned for eight days and in doing so, remember there is always time enough to preserve what is sacred. Believe that God incarnate came into the world by way of a young, unwed Palestinian girl and for the purpose of toppling empires.

When we let ourselves believe these stories, even if just for a season or a night, our hearts and minds are opened to the idea that another world is possible—to the idea that there are ways forward we don’t know about, that something new can be born at any moment, and that our capacity for love and hope and justice isn’t at its limit. And In that opening of our hearts and minds, we make space for something new to be born in us.

So during this season of magic and miracles, long-nights and twinkling light, let’s just let the mystery be.

Happy Holidays,

Rev. Danielle