Evergreen trees are strapped to car roofs, colored lights are twinkling everywhere, Amy Grant has been singing carols since the week before Halloween, and the latest mood-making dusting of snow has my thoughts returning to the Christmas story again.

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Bethlehem was crowded with people returning to their hometown to complete the paperwork demanded by the occupying Romans. The inns were overbooked; relatives had long ago filled guest rooms and even the couch in the den was taken. With limited options, Mary and Joseph were lucky to find shelter in a space usually reserved for livestock, and so it was there that Jesus was born among the cattle and placed in a manger bed.

Most of the Nativity scenes I’ve seen over the years have been limited to Mary, Joseph, the Baby Jesus, and perhaps some shepherds, sheep, and the magi thrown in. On the other hand, the Nativity scene I saw at the Cathedral in Sorrento, Italy, this Spring is more like the vision playing in my head.

This version presents a busy community, with life happening all around. Families and friends talking, laughing, eating, and working together, and right in the midst of it all was the Holy Family. In this portrayal, the shepherds and magi have arrived. Angels are still lingering overhead, but certainly not a multitude of the heavenly hosts. Most of the choir had already returned to heaven, but what a joyous, loving, and life-affirming portrait of people going about their daily lives together surrounded by the sacred. Perhaps that’s what it means to be standing on holy ground…ordinary people living their lives in friendship, love, cooperation, and peace.

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Angels sang, shepherds marveled, and after their long journey, foreign visitors rejoiced. However, wise men from the East had an inkling that trouble was brewing in the seat of government. Herod was distressed…and all of Jerusalem with him…’King of the Jews’? Indeed! He began plotting and planning, but before taking action, he awaited a report from these wise seekers. Warned in a dream…not the most efficient form of communication in my estimation, but seemingly popular in this story nonetheless…not to go back to Herod, they returned to their own country via an alternate route.

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I have heard this story countless times, yet I continue to find new messages in the relatively brief reports. This year, I am especially moved by the concept of finding joy despite adversity, oppression, and foreboding. Giving birth in a stable might create a lovely pastoral picture, but laboring on a bed of straw, with the stench of manure in the air and the lack of clean running water, is not that appealing. Mary and Joseph were in Bethlehem in the first place to facilitate the collection of taxes…not taxes that would build better roads, improve schools, or make life better for everyone; it was simply to line the pockets of the Romans. And then, of course, Herod lurked in the background…whether the main characters knew it or not…the danger was real. And yet, despite all this, the overarching theme of the Christmas story is joy…exceeding great joy!

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For many of us, especially during holidays, grief and loss test our ability to feel joy. Ongoing wars, homelessness, hunger, climate change, and the apprehension of what may lie ahead in the coming year leave many of us with sadness and despair. It almost seems wrong to feel joy, happiness, or pleasure. How can we think of celebrating? On the other hand, how can we not?

After relating a litany of simple pleasures in his poem, Sometimes, David Budbill continues,

“I am so happy I am afraid I might explode or disappear or somehow be taken away from all this, at those times when I feel so happy, so good, so alive, so in love with the world, with my own sensuous, beautiful life, suddenly I think about all the suffering and pain in the world, the agony and dying. I think about all those people being tortured, right now,
in my name.  But I still feel happy and good, alive and in love with the world and with my lucky, guilty, sensuous, beautiful life because, I know in the next minute or tomorrow all this may be taken from me, and therefore I’ve got to say, right now, what I feel and know and see, I’ve got to say, right now, how beautiful and sweet this world can be.”

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None of us is promised a tomorrow. This is the day, the moment, that we have been given. It is up to us to appreciate our blessings, savor the richness of life, not give in prematurely to despair, and live it well.

Seeking beauty and joy doesn’t mean surrendering to the world’s evils. We are still called to work for justice, live with kindness and generosity, and march, stand up, and speak out when necessary. The words of the poet Lynn Ungar give me comfort, courage, and, most significantly, direction.

“I hope that you remember that joy is an act of resistance. Pleasure and laughter and imagination are acts of resistance. Telling the truth, even in a whisper, is an act of resistance. We didn’t want to be the resistance…But here we are…There is not always a way forward that looks like what we want—justice and fairness and creation of the common good—and that’s a painful thing to wrap your mind around. But there is always a way forward that includes love.”

And so, in this season of peace, hope, and love, I will acknowledge the darkness as I seek the light and continue to quest for joy, beauty, and laughter. I will look with amazement, love, and tenderness at the faces of my children and grandchildren, just like the young mother who gave birth in a stable two thousand years ago. Like the shepherds, I will be open to mystery, surprise, and discovery if I’m brave enough to grasp them. I will be challenged by the example of the wise ones to move forward with determination and purpose toward justice and fairness, not allowing worry and dread for tomorrow to rob me of my delight in the pleasures of today.

“Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.” Henri Nouwen

Finding joy in dark times isn’t easy, but let’s pledge to make it our goal and defiant means of resistance. We can face an unknowable future if we lock arms and step onto the holy ground of our lives together in a spirit of love and compassion.