Once upon a time in our nation's capital, a young man slept on the third story of an old home in the heart of Adams Morgan. It wasn't easy to fall into dreamland with all of the disturbing noise from Columbia Rd. below. He had grown up in a small midwestern town and now lived in a remote cabin nestled among the laurels of Western North Carolina. Gunshots and sirens had taken the place of a mountain stream's lullabies. Restless sleep was punctuated by noisy violence in this place where he was attending classes. What woke him were not sounds of increased disorder and turmoil that night. It was a sudden silence. He rubbed his eyes and listened.
The strange hush made him wonder what was happening. He looked out the window only to see bricks of the building next door inches away. Rising from his bed, the man wandered down the hallway to a window on the street. Big flakes of snow were falling heavily, covering cars, sidewalks, and the entire District. A thick blanket had quieted the night and sent almost everyone inside. Shining lights of monuments and the twinkling of Christmas decorations were more brilliant than ever as Washington lived up to its' moniker of The Great White City. All of that which seemed evil had been made just as pure as the driven snow. Peace reigned. If only for an hour.
My snow experience in DC so many years ago will stay with me always.
Though there are many winter weather stories knocking around in my aging memory, this is the one that resonates. As Christmas comes along again with Advent messages of Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love, I recall the clear message of that night as an epiphany of Emmanuel. God With Us. It's not hard to slip into despair even during the seasons of light. One in seven people is going hungry while over one-third of the world's food is wasted. We angrily divide ourselves along political party lines as we turn a blind eye to children trafficked for sex. We spend fortunes on nuclear arsenals while homeless veterans seek shelter and basic healthcare. What an ugly mess we make. But even so, God is with us.
When we wake up to that reality, the most amazing things happen. I think of Linda who was a woman victimized throughout her childhood. Dually diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and chronic addiction, her family and friends had given up hope that she would ever be well. It was shocking to those of us who were treating her illnesses that a few words of wisdom one day would somehow cut through her tortured past, leading to a kind of rebirth. This is what she heard;
“You are my child. The beloved. You were lost and now you are found. You were dead and now you are alive. You are with me always. Everything I have is yours.”
The words were a compilation of scriptural text given as a Christmas talk by a visiting treatment center alum. The next day, Linda brought me a beautiful hand-drawn calligraphy she created with those words. She said; “Now that I know this I can get better.” And, somehow, the miracle of miracles came to pass. She finished inpatient treatment and with hard work, help and time, became a mentor for others who were discarded as incurable. God was with her through the darkness. She was no longer alone.
Healing mercy is always at hand. The blanket of redemption is not an exclusive property of the pious. Emmanuel knows no boundaries and plays no favorites. God does not sit on a towering and remote throne judging those who are naughty and nice. I think that is the domain of Santa and his elves.
When everything is covered in snow and silence overcomes the hubbub we are transformed and restored to our real selves. God is revealed as a fragile human being and the rest of us are made whole. Thus, with this revelation, we are empowered to make things right. Hand in hand there is nothing we cannot fix.
O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Ransom us to become instruments of your love...that we might join with you to co-create a world as pure as the driven snow.