Hope holds the whole world in its arms

The Nativity of our Lord. If you are not a follower of Jesus, this may mean nothing - that's fine. And yet, what I will say about that bit of storytelling may still resonate.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. The nativity of our Lord is about incarnation. It is about an inclusive embrace that extends beyond anything I would consider embracing. If and when you see someone and you make up the notion that they do not fit in or belong or look they way you look or act the way you act - you have no connection to the hope of the incarnation. Oh, there is still hope. The incarnation is a hope-filled creation in which even a rejection of its creativity cannot prevail over the hopefulness intended in its earthy and cosmic expression. We cannot diminish hope. It will carry us, without partiality, into a life where people open doors, invite others in, and share their bounty or their scarcity. In many of my days, I am not hope-filled. I am self- absorbed. It is easy to be when all I need do to have things my way is to simple turn my back - walk away - make judgements. Oh how I long to be filled with the hopefulness of the vision of our faithful storytelling that enters into poverty and violent systems and homelessness and fear in order to touch us no matter where we find ourselves.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. Those are not big strong arms. Those are the arms of a mother who takes a risk and then continues to risk her life and her babe's life by raising him within that embrace of hope - even when it will be bring about what appears to be the end of him. Such hope is life offered to the least and shines in front of those who appear to be the biggest and best. To be born into the stream of the hopefulness of creation is not something out of the ordinary. In fact, within the storytelling of the incarnation, we are handed nothing more than the ordinary. This is where hope springs eternal - makes itself know - gives vision - lasts beyond our own lives - demonstrates the ongoing nature of creation. In the arms of that peasant woman and that man who would become her husband there is promise that cannot be realized without being realized in each and every ordinary day.

Hope holds the whole world in its arms. When we see the incarnation in such a light - a light that bids us to come into the unfolding glory of the hopefulness of creation - the crazy notion of making these days at the end of December and the beginning of January into a place of a warfare of words is strange. When we live in this hope, those folks become our folks. The differences we long to keep in place lose their glitter and we begin to see those differences as odd and unnecessary. The lines we are usually able to draw so well and make so definitive - hold no power - have no control. Hope lifts up our eyes to see the glorious mountaintops and drops our eyes to see the rich valleys. In the meantime, we do not miss the amazing splendor of the ordinary of the day that is too often that which we look past. Hope sees and holds the baby. Hope sees and hold the wounded. Hope sees and holds the forgotten. Hope sees and holds the abused. Hope sees and holds those previously overlooked and ignored. And then, hope uses all those lives as the palate of hope's creativity in order to paint us into a new world.

Hope hold the whole world in its arms. Celebrate the hopefulness of the ordinary that challenges us to be utterly creative for the well-being of all. Hope is looking for a manger into which the future might take shape. We are invited to hold that wonder-filled life as if it is our own.
TRRR