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CHRISTMAS 201 2
Featuring works by:
• The Rev. Parisa Parsa
• The Rev. Frank Clarkson
• Aidan J. McCormack
• Christian Schmidt
• Bishop Tim Cravens
• The Rev. Mark Caggiano
• The Rev. Dr. Kenneth Claus
• The Rev. Betsy Scheureman
• The Rev. Tony Lorenzen
• The Rev. Ron Robinson

A Publication of
Unitarian
Universalist
Christian
Fellowship
Editor
Tony Lorenzen
Publisher
Gilbert Guerrero
UUCF
Board of Trustees
President
Betsy Sheureman
Vice President
Gilbert Guerrero
Secretary
Kristin
Grassel-Schmidt
Treasurer
Danielle
Marx Conwell
Past President
Dean Drake
Trustees
Mark Caggiano
Kim Hampton
Tony Lorenzen
Jennifer Sandberg
from the editor
The Rev. Tony Lorenzen
UUCF Board of Trustees
I don’t remember how old I was, but I couldn’t have been
more than twelve or so. I had just finished delivering
papers on my paper route.
Yes, Gen X, the last generation to have experienced the door to door
delivery of the paper route.
My route ended at the top of a small hill, just up the street
from my house. It had snowed earlier in the day and
everything was covered with the type of snow that only
seems to exist in Christmas movies and romantic winter
scenes. Silver, sparkling, the newly risen moon and
streetlight bouncing rays off the crystals. It felt incredibly
appropriate, seeing as it was Christmas Eve. The air was
cold and crisp and your breath made smoke like incense
that rose to Heaven. I followed one big exhale up as
dispersed toward the sky above my head. It was then I
noticed the stars. The sky was black and clear, not cloud
left over anywhere from the earlier snow storm. The
starts like multitudes sparkled like the snow crystals in the
moonlight. And there was one star, brighter than all the
rest. Whether it was or not or whether I needed it to be or
whether it was probably a planet and not a start didn’t
matter, then or now. That star was shining down on me,
just like the star of Bethlehem.
I was beginning to question the stories of my Catholic
upbringing and I remember wondering if stories about
kings following stars to babies could be real. Yet there I
was, caught in the wonder of a star on Christmas Eve, and
I remember being filled with a strange calm and felt more
than heard something divine saying, “Yes.” Yes to what
Yes, to love and peace and belonging and feeling okay
with everything. And that’s how I felt in that moment.
That was, I reflect each Christmas, the first time I felt
touched by God and filled with an incredible awe and
wonder. In my darkest times, the memory of that “Yes”
carries me through.
However you think of the story as it’s told again this year,
may your Christmas be filled with holy light, wonder, love
and hope. Yes.

p 3
from the president
The Rev. Betsy Scheuerman
President - UUCF Board of Trustees
Brothers and Sisters,
Advent approaches. Courtesy of Sandy, I have a different take on it this year: a
sense of desperate urgency. We’re waiting for things we took for granted:
restoration of power, heat, Internet, phone lines, train service. We’re wanting to
be able to return to the familiar rhythms of our days. We’re waiting not so much
for some new light to break through, but for our scarred psyches, homes, and
landscapes to heal.
How tame Advent has been for me, in the past! How easy it has been to skip
over readings such as this, from the lectionary for the first Sunday in Advent:
“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among
nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and
foreboding of what is coming upon the world…” (Luke 1:25-26)
Advent can be a season of dread as well as a season of eager anticipation.
Despite my longing for the world to be what it was, before the storm, I have no
choice but to go forward. Disruptions and destruction and death have come
and will come again. What is my role
St. John of the Cross reminds me that Advent is not a passive season. It is not
merely a legendary event from 2000 years ago. It is happening, now:

p 4
“If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the road—pregnant with the holy—and
say, ‘I need shelter for the night, please take me inside your heart, my time is so close.’ Then,
under the roof of your soul, you will witness the sublime intimacy, the divine, the Christ
taking birth forever, as she grasps your hand for help. For each of us is the midwife of God.
Yes, there, under the dome of your being, Creation comes into existence eternally, through your
womb, dear pilgrim—the sacred womb in your soul, as God grasps our arms for help; for each
of us is God’s beloved servant, never far.” (trans. by Daniel Ladinsky).
We have choices to make. Do we want the Virgin to come walking down the
road, pregnant with the holy Are our hearts open, our souls welcoming
Someone is asking for shelter, God is grasping our arms for help. Will we, like
Mary, say, “Yes”, and offer our wombs, our arms, our very being, in order to
make God manifest
In faith, hope, and love,
Betsy
• • • • •
sign, sign, everywhere a sign…
the UUCF this christmas
The Rev. Ron Robinson
Executive Director • UUCF
This year in the cycle of the lectionary, there is
the peculiar, startling text below that heralds
our new year, the Advent season. If Advent is
the time when our attention is to be grabbed
and turned toward the deeper truths and
meaning of the birth of Jesus and discipleship
of the way of Jesus, then this text from Luke
21:25-36 does the trick. Here is how, scripturally,
our Christmas is to begin this year.
There is little pastoral, peaceful, angelic,
Christmasy about it, at least in the conventional
sense.
“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among
nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and
foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be
shaken.Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.
Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your
redemption is drawing near.” Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the
trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already
near.So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is

p 5
near. Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.
Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. Be on guard so that your
hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life,
and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face
of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all
these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”
What kind of Advent and Christmas message is this It is more about a Second
Coming than a First Coming, more about endings than beginnings, more about
conflict and uncertainty and the presence of God in the midst of them than
about babes wrapped in swaddling clothes. And that is why I like it so much.
Meditating on this passage this season is designed to open us up to a Christmas
message that will wake us up, not have us go to sleep with a Silent Night lullaby,
that tells us to pay attention to what is happening beyond us and our comfort
zones. Christmas is about a radical discontinuity with the past, unlike the
solstice. Christmas puts us in touch with a God that seeks to get in touch with
us, that moves into the poorest neighborhood, that births hope in the most
hopeless of hearts, that takes shape in the most vulnerable of people.
Christmas is about a God that gets in our faces, literally.
There are signs all around us of momentous changes in life, in culture, in
religious traditions, in faith communities. In one sense, if you aren't "fainting
from fear and foreboding" than you aren't paying attention to the signs of great
change sweeping through, and sweeping away, institutions that were once safe
and secure. In another sense, this means we need the Christmas story assurance
more than ever, to “Be Not Afraid” for God’s realm is very near, for God is still
showing up in surprising forms.
As I write this, the UUCF Board recently completed its Board Retreat that,
given the signs we were seeing and experiencing of changing environments,
compelled your leadership to go back to examining root questions of why the
UUCF exists, and our vision of what that calls us to become in these new
environs---one with so much competition for providing content for faith
development, one where communities were forming more in online and opensourced
and free environs than connected just to face to face organizations, one
where concepts like membership are in flux, one that empathizes communities
and connections more than mere individual growth, and yet one where there
are still deep desires for authentic community, and things like this publication
people can hold in their hands and smell and put in the hands of others, all
opportunities to be a part of a movement that energizes the souls of persons
and churches and the world, because that is what Jesus did.
As the old year of 2012 ends, you are being given the chance through our
Special Appeal to help us raise the necessary money to meet the new
see signs pg 24

p 6
a christmas eve homily
by The Rev. Parisa Parsa
First Parish - Unitarian Universalist • Milton, MA
We hear a lot of talk about peace at holiday time, peace on the earth and good
will toward all, the birth of one who is known as the Prince of Peace. We who
don’t want to offend anyone’s religious or holiday sensibilities send out cards
that simply offer greetings of peace.
Those of us who live with some level of comfort in the world have a very clear
idea of what we mean by this peace: a comfortable chair in a warm home;
gentle company of friends and family in just the right amount; kids playing
quietly while we sip some cocoa or tea. For us peace usually means calm, and
comfort, and freedom from worry.
Global peace, of course, is something that we wish for but find elusive,
mysterious. What would it be like to have a world where there was no war We
wish for resolution to the conflicts we know of, but there’s a faraway quality to
it. The ins and outs of what it would take to get to peace are overwhelming to
think about. Peace Yes, we want peace. What it will take, we cannot
comprehend.
Most of us struggle enough to get to that personal sense of peace. Just when
we think the decks are cleared so we can settle down and enjoy a quiet moment
to meditate, to even think, the phone rings, or the child calls out, or there is
overtime to be worked, or a family member gets sick.
We try to carve out the time for the spirit in the season that promises peace and
find that our lives prove a scientific principle: nature abhors a vacuum. As soon
as the space looks like it may open up, something rushes in to fill it. And so we
sing along to carols to salve our anxiety, to soothe our grief, to calm our fears
and we just keep moving on.

p 7
If we come to this season seeking peace, peace of the kind that means calm
and stillness, freedom from worry, we are rarely satisfied. A member of the
congregation recently told me that her three year old daughter came running
into the room to breathlessly announce to her parents that her favorite
Christmas song was on the radio. “Come quick!” she said, and invited them into
the room where it was playing. As they entered the room they could hear the
strains of song and their daughter began to sing right along with it: “Violent
night, holy night.” I think that three year-old knew a thing or two. The peace we
sing about isn’t entirely silent, for sure. And sometimes we have fought hard
for it. As much as this season brings the tempting allure of peace on earth, and
we bring a yearning for peace in our hearts, the story of the nativity is not a
story of peace. We’ve certainly tried to contain it and make it seem peaceful:
Cute barnyard animals huddle in a stable around a swaddled baby bathed in
warm light. A teenage mother and her new husband father gaze adoringly
while angels tell shepherds and wise men make their way guided by a star. But
the story in its time was one of discomfort, upset and anxiety. Our world
history books tell us that during this time period there was an unusual period of
peace in the Roman Empire. It has come to be known as the pax romana, the
Roman Peace. It was a 200 year period which was quite comfortable to those
in power: money was not being spent on costly wars of expansion; the minority
groups of the empire were effectively subjugated; there was no real worry of
upset to anyone’s way of living. The ship of empire was well in hand and
charting a steady course.
The Roman Empire had built this so-called peace by conquering many lands,
and subjugating their people; their laws were obeyed, by force if necessary.
When the decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be
taxed, the people of the subject lands were sent into a scurry of migration.
Returning to the towns of their lineage, the impoverished citizens of the
empire were being counted as evidence of Augustus’ power and reach.
So the night we celebrate as one of great joy probably didn’t seem so for Mary
and Joseph. Mary had heard in a dream that she would bear this special child
and no matter how great her faith,it’s doubtful that she was so certain as to be
unaffected by the physical sensations of late-term pregnancy. Swollen belly and
ankles, riding on a donkey or walking the 80-mile trek from Nazareth to
Bethlehem, all to comply with the law, to be counted in the census which would
allow them the privilege of paying taxes to the Romans.
The birth itself certainly didn’t happen peacefully; no birth does. The pain of
childbirth for a teenager with no midwife or guide (except maybe the
innkeeper’s wife, as we heard in our pageant at 5pm), must have been
see peace pg 25

p 8
with you
by The Rev. Frank Clarkson
Universalist Unitarian Church
of Haverhill • Haverhill, MA
Here we are, on this beautiful night, in this beautiful place, singing carols
together and hearing again the old and sacred story. I wonder how you hear this
story. I wonder, who do you identify with in it Is it Mary, the faithful maiden Or
Joseph, her supportive and understanding partner Is it the shepherds, or the
innkeeper, who turns the young couple away because he can’t help them, or the
wise ones who travel so far to bring gifts to the child
Or maybe you identify with Jesus, the messiah, the one called to bring God’s
love into the world. Would any of us admit to that People might think you are
delusional if you started telling them you are, like Jesus, here to make manifest
the presence of God in the world. They might ask, “Who do you think you are”
But that is precisely what the Christmas story calls us to do. And it’s consistent
with our faith tradition, in which we don’t think Jesus is the only one. We affirm
that we are all called, in our own ways, to embody that spirit of love and of
justice here on earth.
What I love about the story of Jesus’ birth is its core message, that if we meet
God anywhere, it is right here, right now in the real world where we live every
day. This is what’s called incarnational theology—incarnate means embodied--
and it’s the theology that makes sense to me. Incarnational theology says that
God is not out there somewhere; that the place we meet God is here, in the
physical world, in the face of the friend and the stranger.

p 9
When I was in college, I played on the school rugby team. Rugby is kind of a
combination between soccer and American football. It started in England when
a frustrated soccer player, tired of using his feet, picked up the ball and ran with
it until the others tackled him. That’s pretty much what rugby is, and it’s great
fun to play. I wasn’t particularly good at it, but I loved it. One of my teammates,
a friend, summed it up one day when he said, “Frank, you’re not big, but you’re
slow.”
Unlike football, in rugby you can only pass the ball backwards, to someone
behind you—so you don’t do your teammates any good by getting ahead of
them. It’s important to be in support of the person with the ball. And unlike
football, when someone is tackled, the play doesn’t stop—you have to let go of
the ball before you hit the ground. Preferably you pass it off to a teammate,
rather than having to fumble it, before you’re smothered under a pile of bodies.
The idea is to carry the ball down the field, and when you’re about to be
tackled, to give it up to someone who will continue to move it forward.
Occasionally someone makes a long pass, but more often it’s a short,
underhanded flip to a player a few yards away. The idea is to draw that tackler
toward you, and as he’s crashing into you, to pass the ball away.
But when you’re about to be tackled, you don’t want to be looking backwards.
So your teammates call out to you, letting you know when they are close in
support. The way we did this was simple. Running along behind or beside the
one with the ball, we’d yell, “With you!” so he’d know you were there. The
message was clear—I am with you, right here. You are moving and I am
moving, in a kind of dance. Here I am, with you, when you need me.
That is the message of the incarnation. An angel appears to Mary and says “God
is with you.” The shepherds are at work in the fields, doing what shepherds do,
and out of nowhere appears an angel with news from God. What says, “I am
with you” more clearly than a chorus of angels singing The wise men see a star
in the east, and once they embark on their journey, the star goes before them.
Traveling across that barren land, its light sent them the clear message, “I am
with you.”
It shouldn’t be hard to hear that message on this holy night. “I am with you.” But
Christmas is not supposed to end when the celebration is over and the
decorations are put away. The incarnation is an invitation to live in a new way.
To act as if God is right here, in our midst. To remember, especially when you
are lonely or discouraged or in trouble, the promise of Christmas: “I am with you.
I am not out there in the clouds, I am not stuck between the pages of a book, or closed up in
the walls of a church, no, I am here, right here, with you.”
see with you pg 26

p 1 0
dangerous joy
by The Rev. Parisa Parsa
First Parish - Unitarian Universalist
Milton, MA
There is a lot of talk of joy this time of year. We
sing good tidings of comfort and joy. We tell the
story of the angel who spoke to the shepherds,
saying “fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings
of great joy.” It’s a small word that has a huge allure.
It’s a word with an embedded marketing strategy. We
don’t need to know its exact definition, we just hear
the word and we know it’s something we want: Joy.
The joy of the Christmas story, the joy that is so
alluring and that for so many of us seems a little out
of reach this time of year is one that is wrapped up
in a lot of mystery. It’s not the joy of opening a
Christmas present or getting a new puppy, not
happiness or contentment, exactly. The joy of the Christmas story is a
profoundly troubling one. Dangerous, even.
The first herald of joy in the stories surrounding Jesus’ birth is the angel
Gabriel, who speaks to Mary and tells her that she is going to bear the Christ
child. As the story goes, she responds by saying that her soul magnifies the
Lord, that her spirit rejoices in God her savior. She is likely the only young
woman in history who got news of her out of wedlock pregnancy from an
angel and then burst into a song of joy. Angel or no angel, Christ child or no
Christ child, I’m pretty sure Mary had some explaining to do to the people
around her. People who would have found it unbelievable that this 12 or 13
year-old girl who had no access to wealth or power was pregnant with God’s
child. As amazing as her faith was, and as genuine as her gladness was, her joy
held within it an awareness that whatever great honor was being bestowed on
her, the road ahead would not be easy.
The spectacular irony of this time of year is that we rehearse over and over
again a story that was surprising in its time, but is now so well-known that we
can miss one of the most important facts of it. We already know how it comes
out, so it’s easy to forget that any odds-maker hearing the beginning of it would
think they could surely bet against the possibility that it would make history,
never mind religion. The joy of the Christmas story came teetering on the
precipice of danger.

p 1 1
Who hits the road with a pregnancy at full term It must have been known to
be at least as dangerous then as it is now. Yet there they were, Mary and Joseph,
having to travel from Nazareth to Bethlehem to comply with the order of
Caesar Augustus that they should be registered. Night fell. Labor had begun.
They had no place to stay. The barn would have to do. The baby would be
born and put to sleep in a feed trough. The miracle of human birth would be
witnessed in the most unlikely of places. Angels would speak to shepherds.
Wise men would come following a star.
The story of Jesus’ birth is a story not just about this one family and how
things happened this one time, but a story that happens over and over again.
Things we thought were impossible happen, at what would seem the worst
time, in the most unlikely places, to anyone. And when we realize what has
happened, we’re left quivering. Our palms are sweating. Our thoughts are
racing. We don’t know what to do with ourselves. The joy itself comes with
the awareness of how fragile the miracle is, how many things are in fact stacked
against it.
You might be laid off and instead of feeling despair, have a little lightness in
your heart for the liberation from a job that never really suited you. Or you
may have lost a loved one and find yourself re-evaluating the meaning and
priorities in your own life. Any number of seemingly awful things could
happen. The future is uncertain, but there is a possibility, a hint of another
birth that might come of this. Is it okay to nurture that joy Is it safe to take
hold of the opportunity before you rather than the fear that everyone expects
A real joy has the possibility of changing our lives forever, turning things upside
down, making the world new. It takes courage to embrace such joy. It is
terrifying. It could very well be a beckoning from that of God that dwells
within us. The more aware we are of all of that, the more profound our joy,
the deeper our awe.
Jesus’ birth taught us that God comes into the world with every birth, that
within each of us is a spark of that divinity that is as fragile and profound and
full of possibility as the one that came to dwell among us as the Christ. The
story we are asked to take up when we hear this one is a remembrance of how
fragile, how holy and how awesome the gift of this life is.
Jesus came to teach us that we must learn to see that spark of God alive in us
and in every neighbor, no matter what they look like, no matter how much or
little they might have. If we will find our way back to paradise it will have to be
through God’s children working together, seeing the face of the sacred in one
another, never overlooking the spark of the divine in a neighbor no matter how
see dangerous pg. 26

p 1 2
the risk of joy
by Aidan J. McCormack
Candidate for the UU Ministry
Euclid, OH
Before the Angels sang sweetly over the
plains, before the manger and the bright star,
the traveling magi and a babe in swaddling
clothes there was a young woman
confronted with the improbable and fearful
who said, “Here I am…”
The story of Christmas, the season of light,
begins in a dark room. The birth begins with
Mary stretched to the limits of her belief
and her reality. A woman asked to carry and
birth such a heavy responsibility that the
words of the Angel “Do not be afraid,”
proceed any speech or request.
And yet Mary confronts God to ask “Why me How Are you sure you got this
right”
Christmas is the power of a young woman to offer her self up to faith while
internally raging with questions and disbelief.
You don’t have to believe in Immaculate Conception to believe that Mary was
facing a steep road with the odds stacked against her. She was a young woman
pregnant and alone amidst an unstable and violent empire, trying to explain and
believe that she was doing the will of God.
Here is a person with no power, except the power of her own body and her
own faith. The act of giving birth becomes a defiant act. An act that becomes
the foundation for a life of teaching, justice and peace. She is the root of the
legacy of Jesus as radical.
Mary’s life became deeply unsettled and possibly in jeopardy by the choice she
made, but she found peace in the uncertainty and tenuousness of her position.
She risked faith and joy, even though her actions could lead to alienation and
death.
This is Christmas, the Christmas that is difficult to acknowledge. Of course it is
the lights and trees and caroling and the traditions of family and friends. But

p 1 3
the reason we gather around lighted trees, the reason we sing songs and give
gifts and join together in community is because we are combating the
unsettledness of the season and the world. The same unsettledness into which
Jesus was born and in which he taught and died.
We come to Christmas, to the season of light because there is darkness behind
us and darkness before us. And we are challenged to feel joy, to focus on
humanity’s greater nature and potential. To have faith that the cold will not last forever.
We are asked to play midwife to a new year and the possibility of hope, and to
invite and nurture love and peace in the world.
Mary challenges us to live joyfully while also holding on to a healthy dose of
fear, questioning and uncertainty. She is not the naïve virgin blindly accepting
her fate, but understands fully her role in the upending of the old ways and
welcoming peace.
Mary teaches us to stand up to the darkness and live into light. She faces fear
and the things that seem impossible and risks joy despite the messages and
events moving us toward despair.
This coming year will you say “Here I am” in the midst of uncertainty This
coming year will we have faith while not sacrificing the questions This
Christmas let us continue the call to work for justice, to transform our world
and our selves.
• • • • •

p 1 4
reading:
the work of christmas
by Howard Thurman
Singing the Living Tradition #61 5
When the song of angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and
princes are home,
When the shepherds
are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among the brothers,
To make music in the heart.
after the presents
by Christian Schmidt
Intern Minister
First Parish • Needham, MA
For years, my mother has collected
nativity scenes. She has little ones, big
ones, brightly-colored ones, dull ones,
wood ones, metal ones, ceramic ones,
straw ones. I know she’s not alone in
this, as a trip to any Christmas or
religious store will show you: a lot of
people collect nativity scenes. It’s a
powerful story about the birth of a
child.
I don’t need to tell parents how
powerful it is to have a child born, what
a life-changing event that was for Mary
and Joseph, what a life-changing event it
is for every parent. And this birth more
than most. Born in a manger,
surrounded by the animals and the
shepherds, with angels looking on and
the wise men making their way to see
the child, this was something to
remember, something that’s
commemorated in those nativity scenes
around the world, something that, I’m
guessing, all of us could sing a song or two about. “Joy to the World, the Lord is
Come.” “Once, in Royal David’s City, stood a lowly manger bed.” “Come and adore Him,
Born the King of Angels.”
But for my mother, more than any of those nativity scenes, she likes scenes that
show the Flight to Egypt. These scenes depict Mary, holding baby Jesus as she
rides on a donkey led by Joseph as they flee Bethlehem for the safety, or what
safety there is in the world, of Egypt. After all, it’s easy to forget that Christmas
doesn’t end at midnight on December 25th.
Christmas Day is actually the first day of Christmas, not the last. Just after the
big day, and we’ve forgotten that Epiphany, the day on which the wise men
arrived to see the baby, is still a long way from now. Yes, “We Three Kings of

p 1 5
Orient Are, Bearing Gifts, We Traverse Afar / Field and Fountain, Moor and Mountain,
Following Yonder Star,” as we sang earlier, is a song of the Epiphany, which still
doesn’t come for almost two weeks, just to point that out again.
In fact, when first preached just after Christmas, I put it on my calendar and
opened up a word processing document so that I could eventually get down to
writing. I titled it simply “Post-Christmas sermon.” And, the nearer I’ve gotten to
actually coming here to talk to you, the more I’ve realized how, well, wrong that
is.
So, if you’re like me and haven’t gotten around to taking the Christmas lights
down a couple days after the 25th, don’t feel bad. If you’re not quite ready to let
go of the Christmas carols that are still floating in your head, it’s OK. You’re in
the right, after all. The story doesn’t end on Christmas Day, though it’s sure easy
to feel that way sometimes. The stores are already moving on, and given that
they’ve had the Christmas stuff up for three months now, maybe that’s not such
a bad thing. And our families have already packed up and headed home from
the Christmas dinner, and the TV Christmas specials are definitely over for the
year. Really, with all the buildup for months, it’s kind of a letdown, isn’t it It’s
gotten to the point where I sometimes feel like just surviving the holidays is the
goal, not actually enjoying them or learning from their meaning. And that’s
tragic. But maybe, now that the craziness of Christmas is over, we’ll have a
chance to just appreciate what this can mean for us. Maybe we take a second to
step outside ourselves and remember what’s important. I’m sure I don’t have to
tell you about those nativity scenes and what they’re all about. You know about
the manger and the animals and shepherds and the angels and Mary and Joseph
and the baby. “Mary had a baby, yes, Lord,” as the song goes.
In the words of Howard Thurman that opened our worship today, the work of
Christmas only begins with Jesus’ birth. It’s what happens afterward that’s
important: after all the shepherds, and the kings and princes, and the angels,
have gone home, that’s when it’s time for us here to do the work, to feed the
hungry, to comfort the afflicted, to build the Beloved Community. And that
makes me think of Joseph.
I like to think about famous stories from the viewpoint of the supporting
characters. I remember being struck by Grendel, a novelization of the
Scandinavian saga Beowulf told through the eyes of the “monster,” who might
not be such a monster after all. I wonder what Thomas Potter, the Universalist
farmer who set up a chapel on his land in the hope that someone would come
preach there, a someone who ended up being John Murray, widely regarded as
the father of American Universalism – I wonder what Thomas Potter might
think about the people gathered here today worshipping in a religion that he
helped make possible in this country.
see presents pg 27

p 1 6
we are called to
be the hands of christ
by Bishop Tim Cravens
St. Mary of Grace Church
Media, PA
One of the most interesting devotions
ever to develop within Catholicism is
the Infant of Prague. This devotion
depicts the infant Jesus standing,
dressed in royal robes, with a crown
on his head, an orb in his left hand,
and his right hand raised in blessing.
Some models have the cope painted
on and the crown as part of the statue,
but others are designed with removable crowns so that one can have a
coronation, and with removable cloth copes, so that one can redress the Infant
Christ in the colors of the different liturgical seasons. Sort of a “dress-up doll”
for priests!
The origin of the statue was in the seventeenth century in Prague, in a
Carmelite convent. The convent had been damaged in the war, and the original
statue was found as the convent was being restored. However, its hands had
been destroyed. The convent’s chaplain was praying in front of the statue, and
heard a voice say to him, “Have pity on Me and I will have pity on you. Give Me My
hands and I will give you peace. The more you honor Me, the more I will bless you.” He
repaired the hands, and various miracles occurred, and the devotion to the
Infant of Prague was born.
We hear, in today’s epistle, that “the grace of God has appeared, offering salvation to all
people.” The grace of God appeared in the birth of Jesus Christ, the Eternal
Word of God who took on humanity so that we human beings might take on
divinity, restoring the image of God in which we were created, but which has
been broken through sin.
The Infant Christ says to us today “Give me my hands, and I will give you peace.”
Christ’s Incarnation was not just an event that took place 2,000 years ago. It is
continued in our lives as Christians each time we say “yes” to God’s call to us in
our daily life. Christ is born in the stable of our mundane, ordinary lives,
whenever we show love to one another, whenever we feed the hungry or clothe
the naked, whenever we bring about peace and justice in our small part of the
world.

p 1 7
Now, I have seen many versions of the Infant of Prague statue. I saw one in a
Catholic gift shop with a face that looked exactly like one of the Campbell soup
kids. A priest in my church has a statue that looks enough like Queen
Elizabeth, that I halfway expect it to alternate blessing the people with its hand
with touching the pearls around its neck.
And then there is the statue of the Infant of Prague in my guestroom – a gift
from a friend with a wicked sense of humor. Its face is painted a ghastly white.
The malevolent blue eyes are very creepy. The head is intentionally detachable
(I think to make the statue suitable for storage). The expression on its face
makes it look like the Chucky doll appropriate for a Christmas sequel in the
Child’s Play series. In fact, members of my church have dubbed it the “Chucky
of Prague”, and the joke is that, in order to be accepted into our ordination
process to prepare for priesthood, one must spend the night in the guestroom
with the Chucky of Prague without fleeing!
These various versions of the Infant of Prague beg the question – when we set
about to be the “hands of Christ” – which Christ are we representing Are we
the hands of a sentimental Christ performing acts of piety that have no
connection to the real world, that is amusing and pretty, but ultimately only
gathers dust in the corner Or are we the hands of a scary Christ, a false Christ
that is, in fact, malevolent, hurting people and breaking relationships Or are
we the hands of the genuine Christ – the One who came to bring about
reconciliation between a broken humanity and God, between people, and
between humanity and creation
The call of the Infant of Prague is not to repair the hands on a broken statue –
the call is to offer our own hands to Christ, to do His work today. So as you
celebrate Christmas, offer Him your hands – and whenever you see a statue of
the Infant of Prague, or the figure of the Infant in a crèche – give Him your
hands. Christ will give you the blessing of peace.
May God bless you richly during this season. Merry Christmas!
EDITOR’S NOTE: The UUCF actively seeks contributions from inclusive Christians of all denominations as
well as from people of other faiths. The author, Bishop Tim Cravens, is a Harvard Divinity School classmate
of mine. The Independent Catholic Christian Church is a jurisdiction in the Independent Sacramental
Movement, they practice the Catholic theological, sacramental, and liturgical tradition while rejecting the
authority of the pope and embracing a more inclusive vision of Christianity. The first female bishop was
consecrated in 1929 in Poland. An ICC church began outreach in the gay and lesbian community in Atlanta in
1946, and consecrated the first openly gay bishop in the 1950’s. Most permit married clergy and members of
religious orders. Communities are small, with tentmaker clergy, and meet in rented space or private homes. St.
Mary of Grace, which Tim serves, meets at the UU Congregation of Delaware County and supports a
number of UUCDC’s social justice initiatives. The ICCC has members in many states, and is committed to
the full inclusion of women and LGBT folk. Tim served on the board of Marriage Equality New York from
2000-2005, and has officiated at weddings as part of the New Paltz Equality Initiative, begun by two UU
ministers to continue the work of Mayor Jason West after he was inhibited from officiating at same-sex
weddings by a court. For more information, please visit the website at www.inclusivecatholics.com.

p 1 8
a new christmas
by the Rev. Mark Caggiano
First Parish Church • Chestnut Hill, MA
The house was filled with boxes and boxes. Big ones and little ones, piled all
around. These boxes were not wrapped however, not red and green and gold
ready to go under a Christmas tree. They were brown cardboard. They were
sealed up with thick clear packing tape. They were marked “Kitchen Dishes”
and “Girls Bedroom in Back.” These were moving boxes.
Two girls, Em and Lu, were sitting on the floor in a room crowded with these
boxes. Across the street they could see houses lit up with sparkling lights and
just make out Christmas trees in the windows. They did not have a tree. They
did not have any lights up. All the ornaments were still packed away somewhere
waiting to be found.
Their mother walked in carrying yet another box. “Why are you two just sitting
here Don’t you want to go up stairs and set up your room” The girls both said “No.”
Their mother put down the box and sat on the floor next to the girls. “Okay, tell
me what’s wrong.”
Em spoke first. “This house is funny looking. Nothing is where it is supposed to be. I
like our old house better.”
Their mother replied, “Remember when we looked around for a new place. You said this
was your favorite of them all.”
“I know,” Em replied, “but now I changed my mind. I want to go back home.”

p 1 9
“Well that will be hard because other people are moving into the old house. This is our new
home.”
Next little Lu spoke up. “I miss the red birds that used to come to the back yard. I miss
the squirrels running up the big tree. I miss the tire swing and my friend Julie down the street
and the mailman.”
Her mother laughed. “There is not much I can do about the mailman. He does not work
on our new street. But we can put up the bird feeder and we will get some new bird friends.
And if we put up the bird feeder, I am pretty sure we will see a few squirrels. And we are
going back to visit Julie, right after Christmas.”
Em spoke next. “What about Nana and Papa’s house How will we get there now”
“We actually live a lot closer to Nana and Papa, and Grandma and Grandpa too. You will
get to see them all even more.”
Neither girl said anything for a while. Then Lu spoke. “There is no Christmas
here.”
“What do you mean” her mother asked.
“There’s no Christmas tree or presents under it. There are no lights. There are no stockings
hung by the chimney with care – there is no chimney. There are no Christmas cookies. There
is no Christmas.”
Her mother pulled open the box she was carrying. “Let’s unpack this one next.”
Inside the box was a little wooden barn. There were little sheep and cows and
one really big camel. There were men dressed up in robes with weird hats
carrying gold and frankincense and myrrh (those are things that sound funny
but smell sort of pretty – sort of). There was a woman dressed all in blue with
a veil over her head and a man with a dark beard and a brown robe. And then
there was a smaller figure, one of a baby wrapped in a blanket. The baby was in
a feeding trough filled with hay (we call that a manger).
The three of them took out the pieces and placed them on a table. They
arranged them all with the little baby in the center. Even the animals were
turned in to look at him.
“So do you know who this is”
Lu said, “That is a cow.”

p 20
“You’re silly. This is called a crèche. It shows the story of when Jesus was born a long time
ago. Christmas is about Jesus being born and then becoming a very good and very important
person. He is someone who we listen to even now, long after he was here with us.
“Over the years, people have thought of different ways to celebrate his birthday. There are
lights and trees, there are cookies and cakes. There are big meals with turkey or roast beef.
And we give presents to each other. I like to think the presents are to remind ourselves of the
wonderful gifts Jesus gave to us so long ago. All of these different things are wonderful and
are very nice for Christmas. But Christmas comes even without them. It is still here even
though we do not have a tree yet or cookies in the oven.”
Lu asked, “But how will we know when Christmas is here if there is no tree or lights”
“Well tomorrow night, we are going to church down past Nana and Papa’s house, where we
always go. We will sing a few Christmas carols and then the minister will talk for a while.”
“A long while” said Em.
“Then after that, we will pass around little white candles to everyone who is grownup enough
to be careful. The minister will light two candles and two people will walk around passing the
light to us and then we can pass it to each other. The church will get a bit dark as the lights
are turned down, but then the little lights will grow and we will see each other, even in the
dark. And when everyone’s candle is lit, then we will sing Silent Night. Not too loud
because we would not want to walk up the little baby.”
“Mom, you’re silly.”
“Christmas is about remembering that little baby and who he grew up to be. It is about
coming together with the people you love to sing, to celebrate together and to enjoy being with
each other.”
“Even Uncle Larry, the one who pinches”
“Yes, even Uncle Larry.”
Em said, “I still miss the old house.”
And Lu added, “And the squirrels.”
Their mother laughed. “Well, I was able to find the box with all my baking pans. How
about we take a break from unpacking and you help me bake a few Christmas cookies”
With the happy promise of cookies, Em and Lu ran into the kitchen giggling.
And their mother followed, laughing right along.
• • • • •

p 21
christmas is not your birthday:
experience the joy of living and
giving like jesus
by mike slaughter (abingdon press)
review by the Rev. Ron Robinson
Executive Director • UUCF
Mike Slaughter is lead pastor of the Ginghamsburg
Church, a United Methodist congregation in Tipp City,
Ohio. He is missional church leader and author of
several books. His most recent title is Change The
World: Recovering The Message and Mission of Jesus. In this previous book on
Christmas, Slaughter uses the holiday and holy season as a lens to redirect our
gaze back to Jesus during this season of hype more than hope, in the hope that
if we can become better disciples of the more missional Jesus during this
season then it will help us do so throughout the year.
He begins the book on a usual note of how Christmas in the popular culture
mode of these United States of America begins sooner and sooner in the year.
He was on his way to a store on Columbus Day and heard Christmas music on
the radio as one station had just switched to their all-Christmas music all the
time format. Even music in this way can become more about commercial
advertising than about spiritual inspiration. He says it brings back memories of
childhood and how his greed would kick in during Christmas, and yet as we
grew into adults we didn’t lose the greed but only exacerbated it.
In 2010 the average adult spent an average $830 each on holiday food,
decorations, and presents. For a two-parent household that equates to roughly
$1,660. And for so many of those families it is spent through the use of a credit
card where the average family already has a balance of $15,788 at an annual rate
of 14.67 percent. It becomes more destructive to families than a time for
celebrating peace, joy, love, and hope. At the same time we are also faced with
the reality that every four seconds a child dies somewhere in the world from a
hunger-related disease.
They way out Slaughter’s book shows us that the way out of this mess is to go
deeper into the incarnational life, message, and ministry of Jesus. It is, after all,
Jesus’ birthday we celebrate, ostensibly, not our own.
• Reshape how we see, think, and imagine Jesus and it will help us reimagine
Christmas. Jesus is not depicted as accumulating wealth and the perks of the
good life and the life of security; rather, “he stood in stark contrast to the worldly

p 22
priorities and values. He arrived not in strength but in weakness. He was born a Palestinian
Jew, into a community of marginalized, oppressed people, spending his early years as a refugee
in Africa, eluding political genocide. His formative years were spent in a nondescript village as
a member of an ordinary working-class family.” (I might add that an even deeper
historical perspective that goes beyond the power of the narrative and tradition
as Slaughter has just quoted makes his point even more emphatically; Jesus
might have been even more marginal in his society, without a father). Slaughter
says “In Jesus, we see not only the face of God, but also the fullness of his humanity, who
you and I are created to be.”
• As the ideal, magical Christmas experience is unattainable, he writes, in the
midst of the chaos of the season we miss the true gift of Immanuel, God with
us. (I wonder if that too isn’t attributable to our bad popular theology; that we
see God and Christ in magical, ideal, unattainable ways). And so we need to
develop new habits and rituals, new traditions, “that focus on Jesus’ presence rather
than the often-forgettable presents we expect to receive.” Many of these, by the way, can
be found by going to www.adventconspiracy.org. They revolve around the
notion of spending the season where Jesus would have spent it; Slaughter
reminds us that Jesus was from the “wrong side” of the Empire, that Nazareth
had a bad reputation, and that Jesus probably looked and felt more like a 50
year old in his time than what we think of as a 30 year old due to the poverty
and subsistence living of his place and time and people and would not have
been concerned about his affluence, achievements, and appearance. He would
more likely be in Darfur than in Dillards, and so should we. Slaughter’s church,
Ginghamsburg, has taken up his call to spend as much on Darfur as they do on
their own family Christmases and that first year they contributed $300,000. It
comes at a cost, though, as some families, he reports, left the church because
they wanted “a more traditional Christmas” in church.
• There are hopeful seeds being planted, and it is this hope that also lies at the
heart of the “traditional Christmas”; God’s hope that located itself in one such as
Mary, an adolescent without the usual apparent means, Slaughter says, to be able
to be a mother; God’s hope that still shows up in unusual places and people; he
cites Mother Teresa and her ministry even as she was in throes of doubt; hope
through all those people whose lives are full even as they struggle from many
causes. Getting over “the perfect Christmas” ideal is the way to discover Christmas.
Sound familiar In losing one’s world-defined self, we gain our God-defined
self. One way to bring hope into your lives is to use Christmas as a time to alter
your life and fit it for mission, for fulfilling what Slaughter terms Jesus’ Wish
List. Look at your bank statement, see where your money goes, correlate that
with Jesus’ Wish List for the poor, the sick, the homeless, the oppressed. Find
ways to downsize your life, for downward mobility, in order to be lifted up in
God. This seems overwhelming often at first, but primarily because we are
thinking of it in individual terms, as something only I have to do, and only do

p 23
by myself; but it becomes more doable and more an adventure of faithfulness
when it is done in and by community, even by “two or more” together. (What
better time to form a two or more UUCF group than at Christmas time, in
order to help one another live more ‘traditionally’ in the Christmas, Jesus-way,
spirit).
• Advent Weeks and Christmas Week Meditations, Reflections, Actions: at the
end of each chapter in the small book, Slaughter sets out questions for further
reflection. I will list them here because they are good Advent meditations, for
you individually and your blogs, your journals, your prayers, or better yet for
discussion with others face to face or online. Think of them as an Advent
Discipline for this Christmas Season.
First Week in Advent: How do you picture God Does this image have more
in common with Santa Claus or with Jesus Think about y our family’s
Christmas traditions. How many of them focus on your own comfort and
pleasure What new traditions can you plan that focus more on presence than
presents What ideas do you have that could be seeds for a mission miracle
What group are you connected to or who are some other people that could help
make it happen
Second Week in Advent: What is your vision of a perfect Christmas What
imperfect circumstances will you face this year that will challenge your ability to
celebrate Christmas fully How do you think Mary felt in the months and days
leading up to Jesus’ birth How does her experience of the first Christmas
influence the way you approach the holiday season How can you celebrate
Jesus in the midst of your struggles How can God use your struggles to help
others this Christmas
Third Week in Advent: Do you really believe that God loves you madly,
passionately, unconditionally Think about the deepest, most enduring
relationships you’ve experienced—with a parent, a spouse, a friend, or a child.
If these are but glimpses of the relationship God wants with you, what must
that mean about God’s love God promises to bring good out of bad, to raise
up the lowly, and to comfort the afflicted. How would you view your life if you
trusted completely in those promises What would it mean for us to love others
“scandalously” How would that be different from the safe, cautious ways we
often show Christ’s love in the world
Fourth Week in Advent: Are there people on your Christmas shopping list
who are hard to shop for What would happen if you put as much time and
energy into Jesus’ wish list each Christmas as you put into theirs What “big
buts” are keeping you from giving sacrificially What excuses do you need to
overcome to truly honor Jesus with your financial resources Get creative! What
see birthday pg 29

p 24
signs from pg 5
environment. Respond to the letter received in the mail. Or go to
www.uuchristian.org to respond or contact us at P.O. Box 6702 or 918-794-437
or 918-691-3223 to get more information, especially if you didn't receive the
information on responding. Do so in order to become a part of this vital
movement that will determine so much how we fulfill or not our mission to
inspire new generations to freely follow Jesus, to cultivate the worship of God
and to serve the Common Good. And as the new year dawns of 2013, you will
be hearing more about the work done at retreat and still being done by the
Board, and you will be invited to come be a part of teams that meet to give new
shape to the UUCF in order for us to breathe and give breath to others in this
new environment. The new year will bring a newly expanded presence at
General Assembly in Louisville in June, and will bring our first Missional
Revival in New Orleans in October. And, who knows what all else it will bring,
thanks to your gifts of money and/or participation.
But for right now, for this Advent and Christmas and Epiphany season upon us,
I invite you to do two things:
First, find the rest and restoration that undergirds and guides us through these
times, that comes from the peace of Christ in community and creation helping
us to discern between the signs all around us, between the noise of change and
conflict and the signal of God's new movement that outlasts the passing away
of the many changes that abound. In the text above, Jesus provides the parable
that it is not really in the apocalyptic future that we must wait passively for God
to show up and be revealed, but is in the very sprouting forth, in the very
present action, and in what we are able to see all around us, on a fig tree and on
all trees the text says, that we are reassured of God's continued presence with
us. When we live in that deep truth and trust, in the midst of all the signs that
tell us we can't trust anything anymore, then we will be able to raise our heads
and know our redemption is at hand. This season let that Peace be born into
the world of your life, in its most broken, oppressed, fearful and hurting places.
Second, help us share with others this great good news of redemption, of
radical trust, of the deeper meaning and life which Christmas signifies and
which in various forms you have encountered through the UUCF in this very
publication, in our previous ones still speaking to you, in our website and
Facebook and online resources, in our events, in our small groups forming, in
our communities of clergy and laity and churches, in our simple presence and
the witness we provide, all because our lives have been transformed by what we
have received from others here as well and from the touch of God's free and
loving and startling spirit.
For together, we can be a sign for our changing times that God is still showing
up in the most unusual of places and peoples, and it is still capable of shaking
the heavens. Blessings.
• • • • •

p 25
peace from pg 7
excruciating, lonely, exhausting, anything but peaceful. Enter the baby, who
being very much alive at birth must have been very much screaming announcing
his presence not just with the herald of angels but with very full lungs, no
matter how godly, screaming as all babies do at the cruelty of life outside the
womb.
The mix of emotions after that moment of birth must have been
overwhelming: Joy at holding this precious creature, Feeling his warmth and the
awesome reality of his humanity, assessing fingers and toes and making sure
that all was in working order and wondering, wondering, how in the world all
that had been predicted would come to pass. No matter how great their faith,
this was not a night of peace.
Mary’s song when she found out she was to bear the Messiah celebrated the
toppling of everything she – or anyone around her – knew. The mountains and
hills would be made low The poor would be exalted, and the rich go away
empty. The world would be turned upside down. Not peaceful at all.
But what was there in the midst of it all What can offer us a clue to the divine
peace that feels so elusive in our lives, and perhaps only fleeting in our hearts
In the midst of the chaotic, smelly scene fresh birth, crying infant, tense
parents, and reluctant innkeepers there was also a sense of peace.
I imagine Mary frantic with worry about where their next meal would come
from and how they would make the journey home and how she might go about
the task of raising the Messiah and then just taking one look at that new baby
face and knowing a different kind of peace.
Not a peace of stillness, exactly, and certainly not a peace of ‘everything’s okay’,
but a sense of well-being against all odds, a love so deep it drove her own
foundations deeper and let her know she could not be toppled. That love is like
a tether that keeps us anchored when the seas are choppy. It is most celebrated
in the form of mother and child, but all of us have access to it. It’s the moment
of deepest recognition of what connects us in moments of humble silliness or
deep need in profound expressions of love and as we pass the butter at dinner.
In those moments of recognition and connection there is indeed peace. Peace
in knowing we are one, no matter how battered we have been by the storms
around us or within us. Peace in the power of our love to heal, and the love of
others to heal us Peace in the possibility that if enough of us carry forward
these moments, and the actions they inspire, the world can know a whole new
see peace next pg.

p 26
peace from prev. pg.
way of being. It will not be calm. It will not be quiet. But it will be God’s peace:
the peace in which we share the miracle of our birth and the splendor of our
love with the messiness of our humanity, and in so doing, we all are saved.
with you from pg. 9
• • • • •
If I had only one sermon to preach, it would be this. God loves you. So please,
start acting like it. You have been given this incredible gift—a life on this earth.
What are you going to do with it If you have never heard this before, hear it
now: You were created in the image of God. You are not a mistake, or an
accident. You are a child of God.
What gave Jesus his power was that he knew this, and he lived it. But he was not
the only one. His life is supposed to be an example to us, an invitation to live
into our fullness too.
I understand about brokenness and despair. It’s part of being human. But it’s
not the whole story. What would happen if you took the Christmas story to
heart, if you accepted the fact that the incarnation is not a one-shot deal The
story of Jesus’ birth, like the story of his life, is to remind us that we are called
to see ourselves as sons and daughters of God. Jesus said, “I came that you might
have life and have it abundantly.”
The message of Christmas is simple. “I am with you.” So let’s be people acting
like it. Let’s do some good with these lives we have been given. “I am with you.”
Let us be grateful, and let us be glad.
dangerous from pg. 1 1
• • • • •
strange or scary they might seem. Fear not. For behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy. Great joy.
This Christmas, let us pause to do just that, to imagine for a moment, for an
hour, for a day, for a week what the world might look like if we sought joy,
sought the God in each and all we encounter, and if they might do the same
with us. Let us greet this new year as a chance to live dangerously with the
promise of that joy. Fear not. Behold. Repeat the sounding joy.
• • • • •

p 27
presents from pg. 1 5
So, in this season in which we celebrate a holiday about the birth of Jesus,
maybe it’s inevitable that I start to wonder about not Jesus, not Mary, not those
three wise men even, but Joseph. Yes, Joseph. I like talking about Joseph. He’s
sort of the forgotten figure in the family, don’t you think I’m sure I don’t need
to tell you about Jesus, and Mary certainly gets her fair share of attention, but
you don’t hear too much about Joseph, do you He’s a carpenter (or at least
some sort of craftsman – the translation most of us use isn’t that precise), we
know, and descended from the line of David, the great king of Judea. But what
else is there Not very much. He’s mentioned in passing a couple times as Jesus
is growing up. In fact, in some historic texts that didn’t make it into the Bible,
there’s mention of Jesus working with Joseph in his carpentry business as he
grows up. But by the time Jesus starts his ministry, Joseph’s out of the picture,
perhaps dead.
So, I like to think about Joseph sometimes. Imagine, for a second, that you are
Joseph. You’re just a guy, a tradesman, something between a carpenter and a
handyman and a general contractor, trying to make a living. You meet a nice
young woman, you’re set to get married, and well, there’s something you should
know. She’s pregnant, and you know the baby isn’t yours. I’ll pause for a
moment to let that sink in. The young lady you’re about to marry is pregnant,
and you know it isn’t yours, if you know what I mean. I won’t take a poll of the
men of the congregation here right now, but I’m guessing this wouldn’t be the
news most of us would want to hear about the woman we’re engaged to. I
envision Joseph’s thoughts right at this moment: “OK, this is not the way I had
imagined this. Right. Ok, she’s pregnant, right. And we don’t really have any money. And I
wasn’t quite ready for this yet. And this baby is not mine.”
The remarkable thing, though, is what Joseph does next. We don’t have any
record of whether he struggled, just what his thoughts about all this were. We
don’t know much about Joseph the man. But we do know what he did next; he
became Joseph the father. He kept his engagement to Mary, he took care of
her, did what he could to help her through the pregnancy. The couple traveled
to Bethlehem, near where Joseph’s tribe was from, and when he couldn’t find a
room for them to stay in, he did his best. He bedded them down in the manger,
tried to make his pregnant wife comfortable as she gave birth. He was just a
normal guy trying to make the best of things for his new family. For him, the
work of Christmas began even before the birth of his son, and it continued
long after that Nativity scene was a thing of the past.
But back to the flight to Egypt: I love this story about the holy family. It’s the
time for Joseph to shine: the moment in the Bible when Joseph takes the lead
role for just a moment. In the gospel according to Matthew, it’s Joseph, not
Mary or the baby Jesus, who receives a call to action from above. Scripture says
see presents next pg.

p 28
presents from pg. 1 5
this: From Matthew 2: 13-14 – “An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream
and said, ‘Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I
tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.’ Then Joseph got up, took
the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt.”
The Bible story doesn’t make much of this, but think about it for a second.
Joseph is told to cross the desert, his wife having just given birth and holding
her infant son on a donkey that Joseph leads, to a strange land where he doesn’t
know anyone. Again, we’re left to speculate about what Joseph thought about
this whole situation. But Joseph the father did what he felt he had to do, picked
himself up and got his family together and left for Egypt. And, when the time
came, he was sent another message, that it was safe for him and his family to
return to Israel, and so he led his family back again. And once again, we’re left
to speculate about just what Joseph thought about all this, and just what they
did while they were in Egypt. There’s some 30 sites in Egypt that people say the
Holy Family visited or lived in, but it’s little more than lore and speculation. I
like to think that Joseph got by working as a carpenter and providing for his
family as best he could.
Like I said, I love Joseph’s story. He’s no angel, no god, not even anybody that
special: he’s just a guy. But that’s the great thing: he’s just a guy, like you or me
or any regular old guy you know. I don’t know many people that are like Jesus. I
don’t think there are many. But I know a lot of people like Joseph, and I know
even more who could be more like him. Joseph is a guy who steps up to do the
work of creating the Beloved Community, the work of Christmas, as Howard
Thurman says. Joseph’s role in the Beloved Community is to be a father, a
husband, a carpenter. He’s a builder of homes and of a family, one whose call is
to support his son in Jesus’ world-changing ministry. I can’t think of a better
way to be of service. Would that we could all live such a life of importance, to
have the chance to live out our lives to make a difference in the lives of those
around us for the better.
But really, so it is for all of us. Your calling may not be as a parent, as Joseph’s
was. But there’s an endless number of ways to be of service in the building of
the Beloved Community. I urge you to look for your way to serve, the place
where your greatest joy and the world’s deepest need meet, as the writer
Frederick Buechner once said. This holiday season, I urge you to look for your
chance to do the work of Christmas, not merely the work of the Christmas
trappings. As we finish up the leftovers and enjoy the gifts our friends and
family have given us, let’s take a chance to think about what our work is this
season and in our lives. Let’s be thankful for the gifts we’ve been given, for the
time of rest and joy we’ve had, and for the chance we still have, fresh each day,
to make our world a little bit better. The work of Christmas has only just
begun.
• • • • •

p 29
birthday from pg 23
new traditions and family practices could you start this year to make every
Christmas a more authentic celebration of Jesus
Christmas Week: How can you simplify your home to create more room for
peace and togetherness, rather than for more stuff What excess can you get rid
of in your home (or your schedule!) to more accurately reflect where your
priorities lie What would it mean for you to “seek God’s kingdom first” What
changes would that shift necessitate in your life Take a moment right now to
think of ways you can make first things first in the new year, by finishing the
following sentences:
I will spend more time with the people I love by_______________________.
I will demonstrate my faith in practical service by______________________.
I will cultivate my relationship with God by__________________________.
• • • • •

p 30
eucharistic prayer for
all souls remembrance
by the Rev. Dr. Kenneth Claus
All Souls Church • Miami, FL
We give you thanks, O God, for all that is good, and kind and
Just. For the all the wonders of nature that speak of Your
Continuing divine presence: the sun rise and sun set, the
Rainbow, the waterfall, the roaring ocean and the quiet
Stream, the majestic mountain peak and the serene deseret.
We give you thanks for people, who, throughout history,
Have had profound and simply stated insight into Your
Presence in all that is around us. We give thanks, too, for
Artists, poets, musicians, people of different faiths,
Different cultures, different times and different places….
Each has helped us to affirm, that bidden or not, You are
With us—even in times of deepest darkness and doubt.
We give thanks that in a particular time and place Jesus was
Born and lived among us and spoke to us in ways that again
Affirmed your presence. Jesus’ words, his life, and
His ministry gave us insight as to who we are, what we can
Be and how we can live life in Your image.
When he faced death, he reminded us that though we walk
Through the valley of the shadow of death, we never
Walk alone. During his last meal, he gave us a contining
Memorial:
For on the night he was betrayed, he took bread, blesssed
And broke it and gave it to his disciples and said: “take and
Eat, this is my body given for you.” He also took a cup and
Said: “as often as you drink this, drink this in remembrance
Of me.”
In the company of those who have gone before, prophets and
Apostles, disciples and martyrs, men and women, young and
Old, people of profound faith and profound doubt, we now
Share this bread and this cup, in the affirmation that the
Continung spirit of the Jesus will make us all…. One in You
…and …You in us …in his name we pray. Amen.

p 31
the christmas star
by the Rev. Mark Caggiano
First Parish Church
Chestnut Hill, MA
Where is the star that shone on high,
With angel host awing
That lolling beasts and shepherds spied,
And beckoned forth the kings
Has it now dimmed, does it now fade,
The test of time now lost
These festive days a masquerade,
Mere filigree embossed
The light it dwells more near to home,
More shaded than gone out.
It is not housed in dusty tomes,
Or sins the sermons shout.
No secrets hid at arctic pole,
To sparkle off the snow.
Its embers warm our lonely souls,
The living light aglow.
The star had fallen to the earth,
And darkened for a time,
Yet blazes bright around the birth
Of a child so sublime.
God rest ye merry gentle ones,
Look not to skies above.
Peer into hearts both old and young.
Search deeply there for love.
a christmas eve prayer
by the Rev. Parisa Parsa
First Parish Church
Milton, MA
Great spirit in whom we are one
God who is present in every birth
Into our hearts this season
we ask for an opening
A door through which
your grace may pass
And offer each of us a new path to life
Help us to see in each and every stranger
The presence of eternal Love
Help us to find within our hearts
the presence of abiding Peace
Help us to find another
when we are hurting
and weave together a strengthened Faith
Let us know you in watchful shepherds
who behold the star of hope in a dark sky
Let us know you in innkeepers, in anyone
who will make space for the
stranger to enter their world
Let us know you in each and
every being in the manger
all creatures of a sacred spirit
who know the holiness of
each and every birth
Let us know you in struggling parents
Who want the best for their
children in a dangerous world
and in wise people who go
out of their way to
witness the wonder of the
holy presence here on earth.
Most of all, let us know the joy
that is born in our hearts
Each time we see and greet you,
eternal love, alive in the world in the
presence of another.