"To discover how to be human now
Is the reason we follow this star"
(W.H.Auden, "For the Time Being")

The first hymn of this Service was a traditional French Advent Carol, "People Look East." The tune is something like a jig, a lively dance. [Sing first line:] That is one hymn, with one mood. There is another familiar Advent hymn which we will not sing. It is "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Advent, by the way is the time, four weeks, set aside in many churches as preparation for Christmas.

The words to "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" provide a kind of bridge between the Jewish and Christian scriptures. The words refer to a story from the Prophet, Isaiah. More about that story in a moment.

I did not select that Advent hymn because even though I believe the words are excellent I think the tune is difficult to sing. I suppose it is fair to say that the tune matches the mood of the lyrics. The first part of each stanza is meant to be a plea, almost a whine, begging for relief. It deals with oppressed people looking for relief. Listen:

"O Come, O come Emmanuel
and with your captive children dwell.

OR THE THIRD STANZA

"O Come you Dayspring come and cheer
Our spirits by your presence here.
And dawn in every broken soul
As vision that can see the whole."

The words are almost a cry; the music is also a plaintive tune. However, the tune changes - there's almost a "coda" with the words, "Rejoice, Rejoice . . . ." This new idea of rejoicing is a promise of hope. In some hymnals the musical notations include the suggestion to speed the rhythm. Here's is how the last section of each stanza goes:

"Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come
As Love to dwell
As Truth to dwell
As Light to Dwell
As Hope to dwell"

I'm calling attention to this hymn because it is not only a setting of the plaintive cry of the ancient Israelites, it is also our story. Both the Jewish and Christian scriptures, when read correctly are universal and timeless stories of human longing and hope.

The story which I mentioned earlier tells about an experience which the Prophet Isaiah had with King Ahaz. Isaiah was almost certainly a member of the Royal Court. The King and his advisers were frightened. Isaiah attempted to dispel their fear. He was a calm presence in the midst of terror.

The Jewish nation was being threatened - at least they perceived they were being threatened by foreign nations. People were upset, the drums of war were beating louder and louder. Everyone from the King on down were engaged in a high-gear arms race.

Now remember, Isaiah was in the royal court, so he was privy to the same information which led him to believe - correctly! - that the foreign threat was not such a big deal. In fact, Isaiah said to King Ahaz: "Don't get all worked up. Those foreign kings are all bark and no bite." However Ahaz wanted to believe the worst. Maybe he and the Vice President - excuse me, Vice King - had stock in the arms industry?

At any rate, one day Isaiah and the King were out walking, maybe standing on the balcony with King Ahaz fretting about the "imminent danger." Isaiah responded that there was nothing to worry about. I can almost hear Isaiah: "Don't believe those rumors about weapons of mass destruction!" "Don't believe that so-called "intelligence" about uranium. Isaiah was so sure, he even offered to give the King a sign to prove there was no threat. Ahaz, suddenly had an attack of religion and piously refused a sign.

So Isaiah said I'll give you one anyhow. He turned and saw a young woman who was pregnant. He said something like this: "By the time this young woman has her baby the foreign threat will be over. In fact, she will call the baby, Emmanuel, which means "God is with us." In other words, in nine months or less, the threat will be over and the people will be celebrating.

How in the world is that story applicable to us? My contention is that these stories in Jewish and Christian Scriptures - so far as that goes, all of the sacred writing of humanity - are universal and applicable to every person in every age.

The universal meaning is that people often feel threatened and in danger. People often feel the "hot breath" of some enemy closing in. Sometimes those enemies are external, but usually the enemies are internal. People feel cut off and alienated from themselves. People feel like they are not the kind of person they really want to be. People seek hope to relieve themselves of the danger of being less human than they intend. Listen:

A woman speaking on a public radio interview says, "I began to realize I did not have to try to be everything. I asked myself why I can't be satisfied with myself as myself?

I visited a nursing home and an elderly woman cried out, "I've lived too long! Why can't I be saved from this debilitating life; I don't want another Christmas like this."

A business man confesses, "Is there any hope of ever escaping the rat race of succeeding only to know I haven't quite succeeded?"

I am talking about questions of alienation and hopelessness and fear in the face of internal "enemies." We long for some Emmanuel.

Do you remember the story of Pinocchio, an enchanting tale about a puppet unlike any other? Pinocchio was capable of independent movement, but he misused his freedom. As soon as he had hands, he used them to pull hair. When the puppeteer gave him legs, he used them to kick his maker. Pinocchio used his freedom to run away to a prodigal life. Finally he met the "Blue Fairy" who told him how to reclaim his essential dignity - how to claim his personhood.

Joseph Campbell would say the story of Pinocchio and the story of Isaiah and Ahaz are not meant to be taken literally, but are myths with timeless meaning. The point is that people of all ages, all places, including almost surely some of us gathered here, sometimes feel threatened and hopeless and captured by something we cannot name. We feel alienated and frightened and sometimes rebellious. We are looking for our humanity. These are our stories.

Here's another story of great wisdom. Alice in Wonderland in her shrunken condition met a caterpillar. Here is their conversation:

"Who are you?" asked the Caterpillar

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice
replied rather shyly, "I don't know, sir. Just at present at least.
I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must
have changed several times since then."

"What do you mean by that?" asked the Caterpillar. "Explain
yourself!"

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid sir," said Alice, "because I'm
Not myself, you see."

"I don't see said the Caterpillar."

I don't know about you, but I know there are times when I really cannot "explain myself." Sometimes I sense my essential humanity has been shrinking. I find myself when I'm not really my best self like Sybille in May Sarton's marvelous novel, "A Reckoning." May Sarton is on to something about growing to be more human; "growing up means being able to look oneself, and to understand oneself."

Whether we are Sybille or Alice or Pinocchio or Jim Grant or ___________ fill in the blank with your own name; whether we are frightened people living in Jerusalem at the time of Isaiah . . . no matter there are times when we feel alienated from ourselves, when we feel "lost" and in need of hope.

One of the signs of modern alienation may be found in how often we settle for deadening conformity, for inertia, for sameness. We have trouble bestirring ourselves to follow any star, much less the light of the Christmas star or the light of the Hanukkah menorah. Sometimes about the only feeling we have when we sing the Carols is vague nostalgia for years long gone.

Every Advent for about forty-five years I have read W. H. Auden's marvelous free-verse poem, "For the Time Being" which he describes as a Christmas Oratorio. Advent is a time of waiting, of hoping. It is a time of gestation; maybe something good really will happen at Hanukkah or Christmas or Winter Solstice this year.

Auden takes the ancient Christmas story and weaves it with modern language and experience in order to tell the story of humanity's alienation and hope. In one scene Auden has the three "Wise Men" serve as examples of intellectual pride gone to seed. He describes the first Wise Man as a scientist who keeps manipulating data to get the desired results. Finally that scientific wise man says:

"To discover how to be truthful now
Is the reason I follow this star."

The second Wise Man is characterized by Auden as a philosopher who cannot settle his philosophy about the meaning of time. The wise philosopher says:

"With envy, terror, rage, regret,
We anticipate or remember but never are.
To discover how to be living now
Is the reason I follow this star."

Auden's third Wise Man is a sociologist who keeps looking in all the wrong places for a just society. He concludes:

"To discover how to be loving now
Is the reason I follow this star."

And then all three Wise Men, complaining of the long, weary journey, have the speech which is the first Reading for today:

"The weather has been awful,
The countryside is dreary,
Marsh, jungle, rock; and echoes mock
Calling our hope unlawful.
But a silly song can help along
Yours ever and sincerely:
At least we know for certain that we are three old sinners,
That this journey is much too long, that we want our dinners,
And miss our wives, our books, our dogs,
But have only the vaguest idea why we are what we are.
To discover how to be human now
Is the reason we follow this Star."
(W, H. Auden, "For the Time Being, A Christmas Oratorio")

So I've shared several stories: Isaiah and Ahaz; Pinocchio; Alice in Wonderland; May Sarton's Sybille; and W. H. Auden's Wise Men. I have shared these stories because each is universal. Each speaks essential truth to the human condition. Of course for that to be true, there needs to be some recognition of the "human condition."

Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe I am the only person who has those moments of hopelessness when I feel alienated from my best self. I think, however, that one of the dangers of our Unitarian Universalist "uncommon denomination" is the danger of feeling we are so uncommon as to be cock-sure, so uncommonly self-assured that we may not realize our own need until some traumatic event occurs.

I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Rather I am trying to say that when we face those times in life when we feel threatened, uncertain, fearful, alone there is hope. One of the promises of the Holiday Season is hope. The story of Hanukkah is hope in the face of hopelessness. The story of Christmas is hope when evil King Herod is running the government. The story of Winter Solstice is the hoped for light when the days seem shortest and darkest.

Advent is a time of waiting . . . of hoping. Maybe we would do well to have one of those Advent Calendars with the little windows to be opened one at a time until Christmas. Perhaps lighting only one candle on the Menorah per day is a way to learn to wait in hope.

The stories in Jewish and Christian scriptures are stories, which can be applied. We are sometimes the Israelites complaining even while escaping slavery. We are Ahaz, so sure that the enemy terrorists are everywhere that we need an Isaiah to help us calm down. We are Pinocchio, misusing our freedom. We are Auden's Wise Men who have tried technological genius, philosophy, esoteric spiritualism and still on some nights lie awake searching for hope.

Well, the good news is that hope is on the way! Indeed, Hope is here. "People, look East!" "Rejoice, Rejoice, Love and Truth and Light and Hope are coming to dwell with us.

We are closing in on Winter Solstice, days growing shorter and shorter, less and less light. Then at the Solstice, celebrated for ages as the "season of light," the days begin slowly to grow longer. Hope in the form of light returns. Hope symbolized by all the Christmas and Hanukkah lights is everywhere. The promise of the Holidays is that we can re-discover our essential humanity:

"To discover how to be truthful now
Is the reason I follow this star.

May Sarton suggests we take time, personal time, for introspection.

"To discover how to be living now
Is the reason I follow this star.

Thich Nhat Hanh would say, be aware of the moment; pay attention to now.

"To discover how to be loving now
Is the reason I follow this star.

Dr. Phil might say, look beyond yourself, find a cause or project to which you can devote your talents.

"To discover how to be human now
Is the reason we follow this star."

Hope for the Holidays is giving attention to these ancient but timeless stories in order to find our humanity.

May it be so. Shalom and Amen.

Readings for the Service, December 4, 2005

"The weather has been awful,
The countryside is dreary,
Marsh, jungle, rock; and echoes mock
Calling our hope unlawful.
But a silly song can help along
Yours ever and sincerely:
At least we know for certain that we are three old sinners,
That this journey is much too long, that we want our dinners,
And miss our wives, our books, our dogs,
But have only the vaguest idea why we are what we are.
To discover how to be human now
Is the reason we follow this Star."
(W, H. Auden, "For the Time Being, A Christmas Oratorio")

"Since I've known that I haven't long to live, it's strange, but I think
I've come to understand better what it's all about, why we're on earth.
Isn't it simply to grow, to become more human - not achievement,
not fame, nothing like that. . . .

". . . growing up means being able to look at oneself, and to understand
oneself. She never did - and that, in the end . . . is what made Sybille
so destructive." (May Sarton, "A Reckoning," pp.121-122)