![]() As those who call ourselves Christian, our new year has actually already begun. It did not begin with the first vaccine injections, and will not begin when the clock strikes midnight on December 31st. Instead, the Christian liturgical year begins the first Sunday we light the advent wreath. This year the beginning of advent was more poignant than ever. During Advent we wait. We wait for the coming of the light as the days grow darker and darker. And the days have grown darker and darker as we are faced with rising infections and covid fatigue and winter closures after a summer and fall of outdoor gatherings. We wait for the end of pain, poverty, and injustice. And this year as we waited death tolls rose, food pantry numbers increased, and racial & social injustice continued to plague our society. We wait for the birth of the Christ Child on Christmas Eve, when busyness will cease, and the familiar carol, O Come All Ye Faithful, fills the church. But this year, there hasn’t been much busyness with holiday parties cancelled and family gatherings postponed. And we will not all be together on Christmas Eve singing in one voice the familiar words: joyful and triumphant! And so we have waited earnestly, impatiently, and sometimes with a well spring of hope, for the child to arrive and transform the darkness. The truth is, we have been waiting since March. We have been waiting for the world to return to normal. We have been waiting to hug those we love and for children to return to school. We have been waiting for familiar routines to envelope us with their predictability. And we have been waiting for a vaccine. Yesterday as I scrolled through my social media feed I was flooded with pictures of friends receiving vaccines: medical professionals and leaders of all kinds. There was electric joy radiating from their faces, sleeves rolled up and ready. Gratitude permeated their written words. The ill timing of Mary’s labor, the swaddling clothes and manger, the chorus of heavenly hosts, the shepherd’s hasty arrival, the wise men’s late arrival -- this story is old to us. It does not hold the same wonder as the new covid vaccine. But perhaps this year, after a year of honing our waiting skills, we will come to understand that a crying infant, born to homeless peasants, is our yearly vaccine. Perhaps this Christmas Eve as we listen at our computer screens or hum O come all ye faithful under our masks, we will awake to the news we have been waiting for all year, and every year. This child born to us, this light, is like an injection of long awaited virus proteins. The antidote the Christ Child offers after all our waiting is this: Hope in the face of fear, Peace in the face of injustice, Joy in the face of heartbreak, and Love, always Love in the face of hate. Thank God for the vaccine and a vulnerable child who reminds us that there is light in the darkness, joyful and triumphant. Amen.
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![]() Disclaimer: This blog may feel a whole lot more about me than about the saint I would like to celebrate: Tonya. This may be true. If you can, bear with me. The only way I can express the impact this every day saint has had on the world is through my own experience, particularly what I learned about myself in her presence. And for Tonya: Thank you for letting me share this. How often I pray for you. Tonya and I began Colgate University in the fall of 1994. We had both made it to our first year at college on our own merits you could argue, but looking back I see now what different worlds we came from. I was groomed for private college in every stereo typical way you can imagine. I graduated from an elite private school and was the fourth generation in my family to attend college. I was not only prepared for the academic rigor of college, but also the social expectations which were much more difficult to navigate. When I arrived at Colgate, I felt freed from the social constraints of my prep school. I quickly assessed who was comfortable in that world, which girls had possession of their daddy’s credit cards so they could purchase all the J Crew their hearts desired, and just how the social hierarchy would establish itself. Although I did not possess my daddy’s credit card, I could have tried to establish myself in that unspoken elite circle. I had no interest. I never looked back. Instead, within the first semester, I discovered an ever widening circle of extraordinary 18 years olds, earnestly, if not clumsily, finding their way in the world. Some were prep school kids, others were first generation college students, others were overwhelmed by the demands of the classroom, others aced organic chemistry. It was in one of these ever widening circles that I met Tonya for the first time. Meeting her challenged me to the very core. I wanted to leave the social elitism in which I had marinated for years. I thought I had the moment I walked onto Colgate’s campus. I truly desired to be better than noticing if someone was wearing J Crew or if they had extensive orthodontic work. I yearned to be a real-Jesus-following-inclusive college student. Yes, this sounds overly earnest, but this was my 18 year old self. First let me tell you the person Tonya was the moment I met her: genuine and deeply kind. Engaged in the world around her in such a way that you knew she loved the human race with all of its flaws. She also lacked all the unwritten private school social rules I was used to. She was unapologetically real and almost loud. Not volume loud, but the kind of genuine-eager-engaged loud. There was nothing couth about her. There was also nothing disingenuous about her. Tonya was 100% who she was and lived into the fullness of that person. 25 years later, theologically trained, I would describe her this way: When God called Tonya by name, she heard it loud and clear, greeted God without hesitation, and lived fully into her God-given gifts God, ignoring every challenge, perhaps almost bulldozing right through them. It should also be noted that NO ONE has ever described me as quiet nor demure. So why was I so overwhelmed by Tonya’s genuine engagement with the world. I think it was simple: she was unself- conscious in a way I yearned to be. She was lovingly engaged in the world in a way I sought to be. Tonya's example helped me be less concerned about what people thought of me and more concerned about the impact I had on others. Yes this perhaps sounds simple, but to an 18 year old it was an enormously life changing. At first glance Tonya did not have all of the expensive grooming available to me in prep school world, but at second glance because she was freed from that “grooming” she had discovered the things that truly mattered. Before I met Tonya I thought I didn’t care about such grooming, but my initial reaction to Tonya made me face the truth-- I still did. I wanted to live in both worlds. Yet living in both worlds was not possible if I really wanted to enjoy the freedom of being simply who I was. This was the beginning of a journey, I'm still on (I still am too concerned about what others think of me). I am grateful for the important journey Tonya sent me on: fully embracing the person I was and the person others were regardless of social standards, but instead based on the gifts they shared in relation to others. Tonya is dying of cancer. Her story is unjust. Not long after meeting the love of her life, she was diagnosed with cancer. Recently her trip to Paris was canceled due to COVID. She is now under the care of hospice. She has recently had to stop working which is her calling -- a school psychologist. Yet in all of this I recognize Tonya is still 100% the person she has always been. She is still building community. Her facebook posts are still filled with honesty, thanksgiving, love, heart ache. She is still her authentic “loud” self. This loud self has given others, including myself, permission to live fully into the life given us, genuinely, celebrating the gifts God has given, and always connecting with others. Tonya is a saint. I am positive she would tell me she is not. But she is. A reminder: to be a saint is simple. It means to live in the world in a way in which you leave it is better. I am only one small part of that better world Tonya has created. I am sure there are classrooms of children who can attest to the difference she has made in their lives. Thank you Tonya for being who you are. I am praying and praying that the days you have left are filled with as much joy and love as they have always been. |
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