Revisiting A Star That Point True North
A reposting with new commentary, my wild creche & music always music
Season’s Greetings To One & All
“Look well to the growing edge! All around us worlds are dying and new worlds are being born; all around us life is dying and life is being born. The fruit ripens on the tree, the roots are silently at work in the darkness of the earth against a time when there shall be new leaves, fresh blossoms, green fruit. Such is the growing edge! It is the extra breath from the exhausted lung, the one more thing to try when all else has failed, the upward reach of life when weariness closes in upon all endeavor. This is the basis of hope in moments of despair, the incentive to carry on when times are out of joint and men have lost their reason, the source of confidence when worlds crash and dreams whiten into ash. The birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this is the growing edge incarnate. Look well to the growing edge!” — Dr. Howard Thurman
We’ve just passed the winter solstice. The world has leaned back on its axis to its furthest point and now begins its return as the hours of light expand day by day. I have to be honest - sometimes I wrestle with holiday writing, I wrestle with the extremeness of December in general. Things get so busy and at some point in the course of the season my introverted nature simply tuckers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in with embracing what and whom we love. I’m all in for claiming generosity, joy and hope as a life-giving response to the weight of what is weary and hard edged in our lives and in our world. I’m all in for leaning into the Light, the light of community, family and dear friends. I’m all in with being grateful for how faithfully the light returns to lead us into the next year. It is the classic introvert’s dilemma, I love love love being with people, but I recharge and find energy in solitude. And so in year’s most extroverted weeks between Thanksgiving through New Year, I often feel a little out of balance. And so I make a point to stay in touch with the miracles of friendship and gatherings, but also the miracles of silence and centering. And so this morning I went out with my dogs and raked the leaves from the path that leads from my home up to the ridgetop. The quiet rhythm of the raking, the earthy smell of last years leaves, the cold wind on my face felt like a balm. It felt like being surrounded by miracles, miracles that had nothing to do with the commercial and cultural expectations of the season.
At this time of year, what I long for most is to celebrate the stories of miracles, wonder and everyday awe, celebrating as so beautiful put by the mystic/theologian Dr. Howard Thurman “the birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death”. I think of the Christmas story not as a soft focus Hallmark movie, but as a deeper, wilder story that is essentially a call to courage, perseverance, love made visible, and the welcoming of the stranger - which can be hard and human and often kind of messy.
The name of my most recent album is A Great Wild Mercy. While writing the songs for this collection I wanted to acknowledge the stories and events that disturb my sleep, “when times are out of joint and men have lost their reason”. But also to dig deep into what is still fine and true in my life and in the world, what is still wild and merciful, unpredictable and yet sure and available.
I remember a conversation I had with two pastors who served two different congregations in Denver. Christmas is a very busy season for pastors, usually non-stop from Advent all the way through to the new year. They described how every year, when they both finished their respective Christmas Eve midnight services, they went to a favorite local restaurant/bar located near their home. When the bar closed at 2am they would hold Christmas Eve service for anyone still at the bar. The owner and these two wonderful women would put a cloth on the pool table and light candles. They would hold hands around the table, tell a story of weary travelers on a weary night far from home, they would sing a few songs and say a prayer of blessing. I asked them both why they decided to do this each year, when they were probably totally exhausted from all the responsibilities of the season. Instead of giving me an answer, they asked me a question, “Who needs a little hope and care more than the folks who are alone and closing down a bar on Christmas eve?”
They went on to tell me of how last Christmas Eve there had been a somewhat intimidating looking young man seated at the end of the bar covered in tattoos and piercings. He ended up staying after hours and stood in the circle with the other Christmas Eve refugees. After the gathering ended with a quiet Silent Night, the young man turned to one of the pastors and with soft eyes said, “ya know, my mom would have loved this.”
Most nativity crèches feature an immaculate barn, with a doting father with a well trimmed hipster beard, a beautiful woman dressed impeccably in blue. Outside, happy shepherds are looking up at the North Star and a gossamer angel oversees the arrival of three very wealthy travelers on camels. The baby is never cold or shivering in the open barn or shed, but laying quietly on the softest looking blanket.
But the story actually takes place in a country under the control of a Roman military superpower. The “perfect” parents were most likely quite young and newly married, but the new bride was already nine months pregnant. You can do the math - as the gossips in their little rural town probably did. They were members of a despised and oppressed class of people in an occupied country. So close to her due date, there’s no way they wanted to go on this trip. But the powers that be decided taxes are taxes, people had to be counted, and so they were forced to travel to a place where they had no friends or family. People just had to take time off, which was especially hard for those living paycheck to paycheck. The roads would have been full of migrants, refugees and travelers, all the hotels were full and expensive. When they reached the little town where they would be counted, they had to have been tired and dusty, the young woman was probably very uncomfortable, her bones must have ached, her feet swollen and her balance off. Just when things seemed pretty darn hard, it would turn out that all hotels, hostels, motels and air b&bs were booked up. There was not a single room available in town and they only had a donkey, and so no car to sleep in. They were homeless for the night and that would have been when the labor pains started.
Then the first miracle arrived in an act of kindness. I can imagine upon seeing the dilemma of the young couple how the wife of the inn owner might have nudged her elderly husband and reminded him of the birth of their own first child. If they didn’t step up and do something this couple’s baby would be born on this bitterly cold night by the side of the road or in a muddy field. She might have brought the couple some threadbare blankets and flat bread she’d made that morning. The inn keeper would have let them know they could shelter for the night in their old pole barn. It wasn’t pretty but it was dry-ish and they would have a roof over their heads. So the young parents would have walked passed the broken farm equipment and tools scattered around the yard and into a small farm shed that smelled of donkey, cow, geese, goats and last season’s musty straw. Because there was no midwife, and the young husband was a pretty regular dude for his time, the young wife was going to have to deliver this baby herself. They both must have been at wits end and afraid. She may have longed for her mother, but they were at least sheltered while she labored.
Then the second miracle happened, a new child born to desperate, despised, weary people. “The birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this is the growing edge incarnate.” I imagine the old inn keeper’s wife standing in the doorway of the motel office, tears in her eyes as she heard the first small cry of the young couple’s tiny infant. I imagine her husband joining her at the doorway, listening with all his might (as he was a bit deaf ) and his eyes also grew wet when he made out the soft sound of a new baby. I can see them standing hand in hand nodding to one another, not because the situation was easy or clean or perfect or pretty. They smiled because when all seemed very dark and uncertain in their lives, their country and town, a new baby was born, an expression of hope, turning this dark dangerous time into an night of courage, of welcoming the stranger, of miracle and possibility….and the kind of joy that sustains.
The Christmas story is a wild story, it was not meant to be sugary or easy. It is the kind of story that reminds us to have courage, to be kinder and more compassionate, a reminder that cruelty echoes, but that kindness also echoes —sometimes for generations. It reminds us to expect a miracle or two, to welcome the stranger and to not judge by appearances, whether the folks in front of us is a young couple far from home or folks singing Silent Night around a pool table at 2am. It is a reminder that children are still being born each day into uncertain places, war torn countries, poverty and danger, and that our true work in this life is to make the world safer for every holy child born into it. And, that even when the night is cold and dark, there is a star that still points true north.
Carrie’s Wild Creche
This is a photo of my creche. It started with my mother’s creche from when I was a kid. Most likely picked up at a local Five & Dime store. When my daughter was little I began to add a few extra characters…snoopy, shawn the sheep, princess Leia and an Ent. But then many my friends found the extra characters charming and began to give me random creche characters - Spock, Aslan, Frodo, Harry Potter, Bob Ross, Waldo, Cindy Lou Who, RBG, Eeyore, rhinos and giraffes, Amelia Earhart, and more. Its definitely become a very wild collection. At risk of offending someone, I’m posting the photo, with a big thank you to everyone who contributed.
Question
What does the quote by Dr. Howard Thurman bring up for you? “Look well to the growing edge! !”
and Is there someone you’d like to see next year in my wild creche?
Winter Solstice 2024
Will the light come?
The light will come.
It may take some time to brighten enough to be seen
Or for us to be able to see
Some days, everything can be seen clearly
On others, the fog of conflict conceals the truth
The truth that Love is the only answer
That love will bring all of us through
The hard times
Gratitude for everything
Intensifies the light
The love
Gratitude for the good and the bad
The ugly and the broken
For beauty and peace
Bring contentment
https://jeffastle.substack.com/publish/home
Carrie, your crèche gives me such joy! All these characters represent part of the wildness of life and the joy of love. Thank you so much for sharing this image.