Monday, December 7, 2020
Diane Harvey
Draw Near
One of the time-honored traditions in our home during Advent is how I set up the Nativity set. Baby Jesus gets hidden in the napkin drawer, not to appear until Christmas Eve. The wise men and their camels are waiting somewhere in the east; the shepherds with their sheep are in the fields abiding and Mary and Joseph are enroute to Bethlehem while the stable and manger stand empty. Once all the figures are in place, every few days I move the participants closer to their destination except for the wise men. They do not even start their journey to the manger until Christmas day.
My friends tease me about this practice; and a few have even put a sheep or camel in the manger when I wasn’t looking because they couldn’t stand to see it bare. But my tradition is important to me because it reminds me that the season of Advent is meant to be a journey. There is wisdom to be learned along the way. Even as God draws near to us in the Child to be born, we have work and discovery to do as you and I draw near to Bethlehem.
Draw near. In the words of a colleague, “What does it mean to draw near to God this Advent when so many of us see God in each other but have to keep a distance? How can we meet the body and spirit’s need for closeness, while keeping ourselves and others physically safe?” How do you and I make the journey to Bethlehem in mind and heart when we can’t draw near in the pew or at the altar rail?
The ways each of us might ponder these questions are as unique as we are. I am taking my cues from those Nativity figures with whom I journey this Advent.
Mary and Joseph – how can I, like them, trust God’s invitation and unexpected intrusion into my life? Am I willing to say ‘yes’ to something wholly new and venture into the future in faith? How does saying ‘yes’ help me draw near?
The shepherds, the immigrants and outcasts of their time, the ones who lived rough and were overlooked and scorned for their dirty, menial labor – who, like them, are the people in my life and my community that I ignore, discount or judge? The shepherds were the first to believe the good news told by the angels, and they ran in amazement to the manger - where do I need to be more open to awe? What can these bold shepherds teach me about drawing near?
The wise ones who came from far away, who were brave enough to travel without a map, to follow a star and even willing to stop for directions – just as they did, where do I need to quit grasping my tired old maps and certainties, and risk a new direction? Where might I ask for help? How can I learn from others whose experience and outlook may be foreign to me, yet have so much treasure to offer? The wise ones certainly have riches to teach me about drawing near.
All these participants in the Nativity story, unlikely as they may seem, put aside life as they knew it and the comfort of the familiar in order to journey to the manger. May their journeys beckon our own. Even as you and I yearn for things to be as they always have been, may we be led to find new ways to draw near. The light of the Star and the love of God will surely guide us.
