A drop of golden sun

Just saw the animated movie Tangled for the first time on Christmas Day (a gift to my six-year old niece). Sorry, but I am not a fan. I know, I know - curmudgeon. It’s not that it wasn’t funny - it was! It was even laugh-out-loud funny in many places. All the “girls” watched it together, while all the guys watched Captain America in the other room. Quite the gender-specific activity.

The problem with me (perhaps I should say, one of the problems) is that I tend to be analytical about everything. My friend Kris, who writes wonderful and funny stories about adventures with her children, said on her blog that I have “enough meaningful thoughts for ten people.” It was meant as a compliment. Of course (being analytical), I couldn’t help wondering if it makes me sound like a geek’s geek. But really, Kris, thanks - you are very kind!

Anyway, my analytical brain kicked in while watching Tangled. The plot hinges on this golden drop of sunlight that falls to earth and becomes a magical flower. Right away I’m thinking, why only one drop of sunlight? What made this one so special? What conditions created it? Why did it become a flower and not a special stone?

And then, the “old woman” finds it and discovers it will make her young and beautiful again - provided she sings it a special song. Well, I’m sorry, but how did she figure that out? How did she know it was a song? And if you realized that a flower would give you magical powers if you sang it a special song, how long might it take you to find the right words, not to mention the melody? And that was only the beginning. Primarily, however, I couldn’t find the point of the movie, and when it was all over, I had nothing to take with me, although I had been entertained. It was just over. (Having a lot of deep and meaningful thoughts means I like movies that provide material for those thoughts. It's a problem.)

Haute Sphere - Nativity by Sylvain Dubuisson

Funny thing, though. Today I came across a news story about a nativity scene created by a French artist. It is completely abstract, and called the ‘Haute Sphere.” It is a geodesic dome of porcelain, surrounding a golden halo resting on a bed of sand. At first when I looked at it I just thought, okay, whatever. But then I let myself contemplate it a bit, and wouldn’t you know, I thought of Tangled and the drop of golden sunlight. 


Maybe there is a little deeper meaning in that story (unintentional on the part of the writers) that I can take with me after all. What if the Incarnation was like a drop - the only drop ever - of sunlight, of God-light? The golden halo of the Holy Spirit, nestled on the earth in a bed of straw. The child, born of this sun-drop, through Mary, with powers unimaginable: the power to restore, to save lives. And there’s even a special song:

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts! 

Heaven and earth are full of your glory. 

Hosanna in the Highest! 

Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord. 

Hosanna in the Highest!

Well, how about that.  Guess I got something out of Tangled after all.

Pregnant... hope, that is

Her story was so similar to mine, even though she is much younger. She has a certain gentleness that I did not recognize right away, did not realize was born of her grief. It came to light in class one day, as we were discussing the moral issues surrounding reproductive technologies such as surrogate motherhood. Suddenly we were linked, joined together in the sorrowful sisterhood of women who desire but cannot have children of our own bodies.

Pregnancy and motherhood are integral parts of Advent and the Christmas story. The scripture readings this week have been about Elizabeth, the barren woman who becomes miraculously pregnant; Hannah, the barren women who pleaded with God and becomes the mother of Samuel; and Mary, the young virgin who becomes miraculously pregnant and will give birth to the Son of God.

All this longing, all this expectation, all this... pregnancy! Yet even those of us who never carried a child inside (which includes all the males of the species) can understand this; we all have hopes and expectations.

It is Christmas Eve; soon we will celebrate the birth of Jesus. It has been a difficult autumn, and I am deeply in need of celebration! I need my Christian family, I need candles, incense, music, prayer. I need worship! I need hope; I need to remember that longings do get fulfilled, that they will be fulfilled.

Expectant Mary - waiting in hope for the coming Savior

Talking about infertility in class this fall brought me to a surprising realization: my own empty womb has been a gift. It is a gift because it has forced me to struggle, to not take life for granted, and because it helps me to understand the suffering of others. It makes me deeply human. 

Yet the inability to get pregnant does not have to mean actual "infertility."  The biological emptiness often yields many different kinds of fruit. I think of the friends who’s journey of infertility led to the gift of five (five!) adopted children. Or the childless classmate who devotes herself to helping teens. Or my own clumsy attempts to bless the children born of others, including the precious daughters brought to me by my husband.

I have been reminded again this Advent about longing, about expectant hope, and about fulfillment. I have learned once more that sorrow is a preparation for joy. My stress has been high, and so my longing has been deep. I will celebrate Christmas with all my heart! And I will keep longing for Jesus’ return with a pregnant, joyful hope.

A Hymn for Advent

EACH WINTER AS THE YEAR GROWS OLDER 
By William & Annabeth Gay (1969)

Each winter as the year grows older, 
We each grow older too. 
The chill sets in a little colder; 
The verities we knew 
Seem shaken and untrue. 

When race and class cry out for treason, 
When sirens call for war, 
They overshout the voice of reason 
And scream till we ignore 
All we held dear before. 

Yet I believe beyond believing, 
That life can spring from death: 
That growth can flower from our grieving; 
That we can catch our breath 
And turn transfixed by faith. 

So even as the sun is turning 
To journey to the north, 
The living flame, in secret burning, 
Can kindle on the earth 
And bring God's love to birth. 

O Child of ecstasy and sorrows, 
O Prince of peace and pain, 
Brighten today's world by tomorrow's, 
Renew our lives again; 
Lord Jesus, come and reign!