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Poetry for Order of Service

These remain -
Long grief
That flows and ebbs and flows again
High love
That stands above the surge
And strong old joy
That will emerge.

(A poem of Emily Ladner, a member of First Unitarian Universalist Church in Houston, from March 2002, a few months before her death)

Opening Words

This is indeed a beautiful day in this festival season that has been given to us.
Let us then rejoice in it and be glad.
And let us count our many, many blessings:
Let us be grateful for the incredible gift of life;
For the capacity to see, to feel, to hear, and to understand.
And let us then be especially grateful for the ties of love which bind us together, giving dignity, meaning, worth, and joy to all our days.

The Lighting of the Chalice

We light this chalice
for the renewal of faith,
the wonder of hope,
the beauty of love,
and the gift of joy.

Responsive Reading

MINISTER: On this fourth Sunday of the Christmas season we gather as a congregation to light a candle to joy.

CONGREGATION: It is said that the world sprang into being from joy!

MINISTER: It is said that the soul is here for its own joy!

CONGREGATION: But sometimes we stifle our natural joy.

MINISTER: Sometimes we let the sorrow of the world negate the joy of the world.

CONGREGATION: Yet joy, like sorrow, has its own reality and its own means of expression.

MINISTER: Joy and sorrow can exist together in the same life and in the same world, often at but a hair's breadth apart.

CONGREGATION: May Christmas be a season to let our natural joy break forth.

MINISTER: Joy to the world, joy in the world, joy of the world!

CONGREGATION: Let the whole world be filled with joy!

The Candle of Joy

This is the fourth Sunday of the Christmas season and now we are only a few days away from Christmas. You children who have been here in the last few weeks have seen how each Sunday we have been building toward Christmas. Each week a beautiful new banner has appeared on the front wall of our sanctuary, this week a beautiful red banner with the word "JOY" inscribed in large letters.

In addition, each week our candle lighters have been lighting an Advent candle - "advent" which means "coming" and which points the way to Christmas. Three weeks ago we lit the purple candle, the Candle of Faith. Two weeks ago we lit the green candle, the Candle of Hope. Last week it was the blue candle, the Candle of Love. And now this week in a couple of minutes we will light the fourth candle, the Candle of Joy. That will leave only one more candle to light, the white candle, which is the Christmas Candle itself. We will light that candle this coming Friday evening, which is Christmas Eve.

This morning we light the fourth candle of Christmas, the Candle of Joy. I have been speaking to your parents these last few weeks about the qualities of Faith, Hope, and Love saying that these qualities are like natural forces at the heart of life itself that get translated in us humans as qualities of spirit that we live by. Thus, our faith in life is grounded in a kind of faithfulness at the heart of matter-energy itself. The hope we experience is part of the urge of all things to push forward. The love we know is related to the gravitational force that connects all things and makes this one reality. And our joy, too, I think, is not something that we invent as human beings. It is something that comes to us, part of the natural bubbling forth of things. It is the pleasure, the gladness, the happiness, the exuberance of things just to be, just to be alive.

But sometimes, it seems, we put a clamp on our joy. Sometimes we don't want to let the natural joy that bubbles up within us come out of us. It's as if we're afraid of too much joy or too much excitement or too much exuberance. Or we think that because there is suffering and sorrow in the world or sorrow and suffering in our lives we can't be joyful.

But both joy and sorrow exist in our world. And they will continue to exist for as long as this world exists, often right next to each other. Sometimes we will have a hard time knowing whether our tears are tears of joy or tears of sadness.

There's a marvelous hymn in our hymnal with words from a marvelous poet, William Blake, that expresses this idea.

It is right it should be so
Man was [We were] made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the Soul divine
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
(from "Auguries of Innocence")

Even though there is sorrow and suffering in the world it does not cancel out or eliminate the joy. So when you feel some joy that is bubbling up inside you don't be afraid to feel it or to let it out. Don't be afraid to be joyful, particularly not at Christmas time.

Evan O'Brien (9:15) Tyler Westlake (11:15) will now light the fourth Candle of the Christmas season, the Candle of Joy.

Children's Gathering - "A LIttle Story of Joy"

You children saw how we just lit the Candle of Joy. So this is a Sunday on which we think about what brings joy to our lives.

I want to tell you a little story about joy. It's a story especially for children because it's a story that comes from the time when I was a child.

My childhood was in some ways probably different than many of yours because I didn't grow up in a town like most of you. Rather, I grew up in the country on a small farm. This was a little north of Lynden, which is north of Bellingham. The farm I grew up on was a small dairy farm - not a large dairy farm like so many today, but just a small one. Sometimes we would have about ten cows but other times only one or two cows, just enough to provide milk for our family.

My father made the living for our family mostly as a postman. He would walk about 17 or 18 miles every day delivering mail to the houses in the town near where we lived. At that time they didn't have the little mail cars such as see in Port Townsend.

My father was known as the "whistling mailman" because everywhere he walked he would whistle as he delivered the mail. I imagine at this time of the year he would probably be whistling Christmas carols like "Joy to the World." He would whistle something like this. [Demonstration given.]

But besides making his living as a postman my father also earned a little money by selling the milk from the cows we kept on our farm.

Now I'd like to talk more about my father, but today I want to talk about the cows; my story is really about them.

During the spring, summer, and fall of the year the cows that lived on our farm had a very pleasant life. There was plenty of green grass in the fields for them to eat as well as some delicious clover. There was also a little grove of trees for them to stand in for shade when it got hot in July and August.

There was also a big block of salt that our cows could lick for taste. I don't know if you are aware of it but cows love salt. However, I have never known any cow that liked pepper - just salt. Sometimes as a boy, seeing the pleasure that the cows got from licking the block of salt, I would also feel tempted to lick the block of salt. I can report to you that it is quite good.

And there was plenty of water for our cows to drink from our water tank. We had a water tank that was made out of the remains of an old silo. It was the bottom part of a silo that had fallen down. Sometimes my brother and I would catch small fish out of a nearby stream and put these fish in the water tank. The cows had to be careful that they didn't swallow the fish when they were drinking water, for I have never known any cow that liked to eat fish.

And every morning and every night we would call the cows to come to the barn for milking. We would call them like this: "Come, Boss; come, Boss." And the cows would come running to the barn. It helped that we put a little grain in the manger for them otherwise they wouldn't have come to the barn quite so willingly.

So this is how things went in the spring and summer and fall. As I say, it was a very pleasant way to live your life as a cow.

The winter, however, was a different story. As it got colder in our part of the country, all the grass died. And when it got really cold it was necessary for the cows to stay in the barn all the time. In the barn we fed them hay and silage and grain.

But our barn wasn't big like the modern barns today in which the cows can wander about freely and talk to whomever they want. No, our cows had to stand or lie down in one place all winter long. Their necks were locked in what are called "stanchions." These are iron bars that fit closely around their necks so they can't pull their heads out and get loose. This kept them in one place, sometimes for weeks at a time, or even months at a time. Maybe it would be like sitting at your school desk not just for a couple of hours at a time but for days and weeks on end. How would you like that?

And sometimes, even though the cows were in the barn, it would be bitterly cold. (It would get colder there than it would here in Port Townsend where the seawater is closer to the land.) Sometimes the water in their water cups would freeze and we would have to bring hot water to thaw out their water cups.

But mostly I think the cows were bored and restless - really bored out of their minds because they couldn't move about freely. And we felt sorry for them and tried to do what we could for them, like talking to them or rubbing their heads, but during the long winter months of November, December, January, February, and even March there wasn't much we could do. It wasn't possible to let them outside.

Finally, then, the weather would get warmer. And when it did, on the first day possible, we would open the barn doors and we would open the stanchions around the cows' necks and out they would go.

Now you had to watch it when you were opening their stanchions because when these cows saw that they were going to be free at last, they would pull and jerk at their stanchions, almost breaking them. And if you weren't careful you could get your fingers badly pinched trying to open these stanchions.

But when they got outside what a time they had! Even the older cows would run and jump and kick up their heels and swish their tails and butt each other in play. I can tell you it was a very great day for our cows!

So during the Christmas season when we light a candle to joy, and when I think of joy, this is one of the pictures that comes into my mind - I think of our cows leaping and jumping and frolicking in the fields after a long winter's stay in the barn.

And I also know what the words from the Christmas carol mean when we sing, "Joy to the world...and heaven and nature sing." Because nature also knows what joy is. I learned that from the cows on our farm.

Introduction to Reading

This coming Tuesday, December 21, is the winter solstice, the time in the Northern Hemisphere when the sun's light is at its lowest ebb. It's the "hinge of the year." From this point on the light of the sun begins to lengthen the days of the year.

In more ancient times the winter solstice was celebrated not on December 21, as we celebrate it, but on December 25 when it was clear that indeed the sun was going to return. Thus, December 25 is the traditional and natural birthday of the sun gods, including the sun god Mithra, a popular deity worshipped throughout the Roman Empire at the time when Christianity began its ascendancy.

No one knows the actual birth date of Jesus of Nazareth, but it was in the early part of the 4th century of the Christian era - 336 is the date I've seen - when his birth date was assigned to December 25, obviously to compete with the sun god Mithra.

The debate at that time was whether to have the celebration of Jesus' birth coincide with the spring or the winter festivals. The winter season won out, a "pact with pagans" as some then said, because it was known that shepherds near Bethlehem did not tend their flocks by night during the month of December.

But the urge to celebrate at this time of year when the light begins to return is very strong. And so it is that "Christmas," an old English word that first appears in 1038 and which means "Christ's Mass" - the mass celebrating Christ's birth considered to be the most important - has come down to us through the ages, continually adapting itself to our conditions, circumstances, purposes, and understandings.

But lest we forget, underneath Christmas, its natural root, is the winter solstice, the celebration of the return of the sun.

There is one biblical birth narrative of Jesus of Nazareth - I regard all of these birth narratives, beautiful as they are, as legendary in nature with little or no historical value - that does lend itself at least a little to the winter solstice, the delightful story of the wise men who, paying attention to the heavens, note a special star that leads them to the birth of a special child.

I read from Gospel of Matthew, the second chapter:

Reading

After Jesus had been born at Bethlehem in Judea during the reign of King Herod, some wise men came to Jerusalem from the east. "Where is the infant king of the Jews?" they asked. "We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage."

When King Herod heard this he was perturbed, and so was the whole of Jerusalem. He called together all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, and enquired of them where the Christ was to be born. "At Bethlehem in Judea," they told him, "for this is what the prophet wrote:

'And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, you are by no means least among the leaders of Judah, for out of you will come a leader who will shepherd my people Israel.'

Then Herod summoned the wise men to see him privately. He asked them the exact date on which the star had appeared, and sent them on to Bethlehem. "Go and find out all about the child," he said, "and when you have found him, let me know, so that I too may go and do him homage."

Having listened to what the king had to say, they set out. And there in front of them was the star they had seen rising; it went forward and halted over the place where the child was. The sight of the star filled them with delight, and going into the house they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. But they were warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, and so returned to their own country by a different way.

(The Gospel of Matthew 2:1-12, The Jerusalem Bible)

"WINTER SOLSTICE: THE ELEMENTAL SOURCE OF THIS FESTIVAL SEASON"
Bruce A. Bode

A few weeks ago in my first sermon of the Christmas season, the one titled "Faith Like a New Moon," I mentioned as an aside that on June 21, the first day of summer, I always feel at least a twinge of sadness. And why? Because even though it's usually a lovely time of the year, it's also the longest day of the year and I can't help but reflect that from this point on the light will diminish a little each day.

When I've this spoken of this feeling to other people I have typically somewhat apologized for this feeling, making a joke of it, explaining that I was raised under the dour influence of John Calvin, or that I'm a natural depressive, in some way tossing it off in a kind of semi-humorous or self-deprecating way.

However as I was preparing these remarks relating to the winter solstice, I came to realize that my sense of loss and sadness at the anticipated diminishment of light at the beginning of summer is the exact counterpart to the sense of joy and pleasure at the promise of the return of light at the beginning of winter.

We are now at the far end of summer. The light of day is at its shortest duration. And, believe me, having spent the last two years in Houston, the shortness of the day in this more northerly place is quite noticeable, almost a bit confusing sometimes. I feel I should be preparing for bed when actually it's only dinnertime.

But the point I was making is this: My feeling of sadness at the anticipated diminishment of light at the beginning of summer is the counterpart to the feeling of joy at the anticipated increase of light at this time of the year.

So no more will I apologize for my sense of loss at the beginning of summer. Actually, I'm somewhat pleased with myself that I am at least this much in tune with the rhythms of nature.

And, of course, the festivities at this time of the year are based on the rhythms of nature. The birthdays of the sun gods, as I said in introducing my reading, were typically on December 25.

So at least sometime in this season it seems to me it would be good to try to go to the root of all our human celebrations at this time of the year, to try to get at least a bit more elemental for a time.

Taking nothing at all away from the delight of decorating the house and yard for this seasonally celebration, and taking nothing away from the pleasure of human fellowship and Christmas parties, the giving of gifts, the singing of songs, the lighting of candles - it's a lovely, wonderful, glorious, if sometimes exhausting, time of the year, and I would embrace it all - but sometime in this season I would encourage you to make an attempt to connect with the elemental, natural root of all of these human celebrations, that natural root being the return of the sun's light after its steady diminishment.

And the opportunities to encounter this natural root are greater in this area than in so many places where the mark of the human "progress" has invaded everything.

Thus, I would encourage you, either by yourself or with just a few others, to go out under the darkness of the night sky - to find a place apart from human habitation where you can let the deepness of the dark enter you, feel the shiver of cold in your bones, observe the spray of stars in the night sky, and feel yourself as part of raw, elemental, non-human nature.

For a time in this season try to get away from the creations of culture, the companionship of humans, and the abstractions of the mind in order to engage the elements of nature directly: to directly engage the tree, the vine, the plant, the stone, the moon, the stars, the soil, the air, the water, the insect, the animal.

Feel the elemental power of elemental being in each of these; feel the spirit of each thing. And reflect on the fact that you are composed of the same minerals, the same molecules, the same elements as each of these forms of being.

To feel and know in this elemental way is to ground your self. And to ground yourself, to touch the ground, is to connect, to re-connect, with the natural energy of things. It is to make a current, to create a flow, just as electricity needs a ground to get a flow of current; the circuit needs to be competed before any there can be any movement of energy.

Then when you are grounded in this way, when you have touched the ground, stand there some morning as light is about break the darkness - you don't have to get that early at this time of the year - stand there some morning and watch the rising of the sun.

You might realize, then, how dependent you are on the sun. And you might begin to understand then how humans in our past, and still today, would want to address the sun directly, would want to thank it for returning to us so faithfully each year, would want to praise it for its generosity, so unstintingly giving us its warmth and light without cost.

Having gone through this exercise you might be in a better position to celebrate the season, to "deck the hall with boughs of holly," to "strike the harp and join the chorus."

(Sing Hymn number 235, a hymn in celebration of the winter solstice.)

"JOY"
Marcia Lewton

Christmas carols and holiday wishes notwithstanding, joy is not at our command. Like the wind and the spirit, joy bloweth where it listeth.

To those of us in the dark place inside that Bruce spoke about last Sunday, those of us who have lost dear ones, who are facing sorrow, who are sick or disappointed or depressed, joy is blowing and listing elsewhere. I know well how dark it is in the midst of loss and suffering and how even darker it seems against a backdrop of Christmas carols. Circumstances have closed the door to joy. But I also know that sorrow doesn't last forever, and that the door can swing open again.

What we must guard against is closing the door through our own actions. To close it requires only that we try to manipulate our emotions. Most of us want to escape the terrible feelings we have when we're in the darkest place. Grief is painful, and so is anger, and so we try to feel some other way. Also, we know that we must be tolerant and act kindly to other people, and so we try to feel kindly too.

To raise the tone of this talk and give a light-hearted example, I myself often use our short meditation time here for attitude adjustment, trying to feel tolerant instead of critical when certain of the worst Unitarian hymns are on the program. The trouble with this is that an overlay of tolerance snuffing out scorn also snuffs out the joy I so often feel in this community of people I love.

So let's say we leave the door open to whatever feelings arise, even those in the places of darkness. Let's say we control only how we act, not how we feel. Let's say we pay attention and use our feelings as a source of information. This practice is like clearing brush from a stream. It breaks up stagnation and allows a free flow of fresh water.

Now we can decide how to act. In the light-hearted matter of hymns, for instance, instead of stomping out of church in a huff when THAT HYMN wheezes forth once again, I can follow the fine old UU practice of composing new words - the more irreverent the better - and singing them under my breath. This brings, if not joy, at least guilty pleasure, and it's not surprising, because full joy often bursts forth during creative effort....

A sustained time of joy came to me when, after working on a long novel in fits and starts over many years, all the pieces came together at the end just as if I'd planned it that way.

Making something new invites joy. For one thing, when you're absorbed in the creative process, you are not trying to control how you feel. Joy has a chance, then. It can sneak in on you when you get a passage or a color just right, when a word comes to mind that fits precisely.

And sometimes it comes when you're not doing anything at all. Haven't you ever wakened up and discovered so much fresh snow that the schools are closed? It's an extra day, a day inserted in between Tuesday and Wednesday, when you can build a snow man or go sledding or fall in love.

Another source of joy is being spared a bad outcome. I remember well the disaster I feared the day I put the ham hocks in a kettle of water, turned the stove on high, locked the door, and drove to Poulsbo. Joy was what I felt, among other things, when I arrived home to find a house full of smoke - and no fire.

But I think Mark Twain was right when he said, "Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with." There's been a lot of shared joy in the QUUF community. The day we moved into this building. The day the Search Committee had good news. Those of you who arrived recently can look forward to many occasions for shared joy in this place, with these people.

Events and circumstances play a part in experiencing joy. But so does what happens within.

How can I reconcile the material and the imaginative, or spiritual? I do understand that emotions and states of mind have to do with the evolution of our brain chemistry and circuitry, but when I feel joyful, I can't help saying, "Thank You," just as if I believed there were some agent to thank. I can IMAGINE a God who sends this as a gift to us, as in the story of a baby at Christmastime. I can IMAGINE the fourteen angels standing around my bed when at night I go to sleep, even when I'm deep in the dark place. Religious imagination is part of our repertoire as humans, and now is the time to give it full expression.

Joy is excessive, extreme. It's exultation and jubilation: dancing and shouting. Joy whirls out in the middle of traffic and doesn't get hit. When it comes, pay attention. Grab it, and if you can, tuck the memory away for when hard times come again. They will.

But now, let's remember and celebrate joy. Sing the Christmas carols. Sing "Joy to the world, the Lord is come." When the Lord, or spirit, comes, when the joy circuitry lights up in our brain, we feel inspired, full of spirit, beloved. The wind is blowing and listing our way. Because we are full to overflowing, we can give ourselves away, in excessive generosity, and this is what's called for at Christmas. Mere tolerance and kindness just won't do.

Benediction

Now may faith sustain us,
hope inspire us,
love surround us,
and joy fill us
as we go our separate ways,
knowing that we will gather again
in this beloved community.

(Jim Wickman, adapted)

Extinguishing of Chalice

We extinguish this chalice
But not the light of truth,
The warmth of community,
Or the fire of commitment.
These we carry in our hearts
Until we are together again.

(NOTE: These are manuscript versions of the messages given by Bruce Bode, minister at the Quimper Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, and Marcia Lewton, long-time member of the Fellowship, on the fourth Sunday of the Christmas Season, December 19, 2004. The spoken messages, available on audio cassette and CD at the Fellowship, may differ slightly in phrasing and detail from these manuscript versions.)