Tonight we went to the Carols by Candlelight service at church.
It's a strange thing, the Christmas Eve service. While many people you know are there, those who live in the surrounding neighborhoods and seldom attend church except for Christmas and Easter come as well, and it feels bigger and a little more alien. But not in a bad way.
Everyone received their little white candle, and we all proceeded to hold them throughout the service - short and sweet, with carols and songs and a little message from the pastor. My little sister got impatient at one point and motioned for me to lean down so she could whisper in my ear, "When do we get to light the candles?"
The fire hazard jokes abound, so we didn't until the very end.
I've always loved Christmas. I don't know if it was the same when I was little, but for me the stuff is a little peripheral. I love the decorations. I love the anticipation. I love eggnog and gingerbread. And I love knowing, just for a little while, that Christmas spirit means something to people. To paraphrase what my dad said recently, it's an achievement that Jesus, over two thousand years later, continues to have a holiday in his name that stands for peace on earth and goodwill toward men. Christmas makes me happy; I bounce when I hear songs on the radio and play them on the piano and sing them while I wash the dishes, and I wear Santa hats, and I anticipate like a little kid.
But when we lit the candles at the end of that service, all of them from the white candle in the middle of the Advent wreath - the one called the Messiah candle - it was bittersweet, somehow, to watch the lights go off and watch the candle flames multiply. Then our pastor talked about how God could have done this in a much more magnificent way. He could have proclaimed to the whole world, beyond doubt, that his Son had come to save us. But he wants us to do it. He wants us to tell the news and pass along our candle flames, one soul at a time. They're so fragile. But one candle goes to another goes to another, and before long everyone's is lit.
It's late and my thoughts are fragmented, but this does tie in, I promise.
Luke 16:19-35
"There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
"The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham's side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, 'Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.'
"But Abraham replied, 'Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.'
"He answered, 'Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father's house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.'
"Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.'
" 'No, father Abraham,' he said, 'but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.'
"He said to him, 'If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.' "
What I take from this story - and I don't know whether it's a story or a parable, but the meaning remains - is this: If we can look from Heaven to Hell, or Paradise to Hades, across the chasm, that means that every soul I knew whose candle flame was never lit will be there, on that other side.
I can't think of it without tearing up. I'm sitting here, typing this, trying not to cry. I'm thinking of standing there, in heaven, knowing that there is an uncrossable chasm between me and the people I knew and loved, and that there is no hope for them. Not any more.
Those are my thoughts tonight. Joy and sorrow. I'm so indescribably full of life and love and I'm so blessed and I could jump up and down and scream, but even with the joy comes knowledge that maybe some of those flames won't be lit.
Maybe you're reading this and you think I'm stupid and religious and I'm upset over nothing.
I pray that one day I'm not looking across at you. I pray that you'll be standing beside me.
Love life. Love life eternal.
Merry Christmas.
3 comments:
What I would like to ask you is this; what kind of God would send loving and compassionate mothers, fathers and children to a Hell full of murderers, rapists and terrorists simply because they didn't follow his or any religion?! What kind of God would punish normal, non-criminal people and send them to an eternity of torment for believing in other Gods or no God at all? Is he really that jealous? And selfish? He's like that big mean bully at school: obey me or I'll torture you. Of course people obey because they don't want to get tortured but really, what kind of life is that?! I'd rather do without him, thank you very much.
It seems like most of the Christians I have encountered have the hardest time believing that you can be full of life, love and hope regardless of religious affiliation or lack thereof. That somehow our lives cannot be as fulfilled or beautiful as yours because we're not Christian.
I understand your concern though, your sadness over the fact that you'll be spending eternity in Heaven and all of us will end up in Hell. And I understand why you'd be upset over something like that. But since none of us have been to Heaven or Hell and back, no one can know for sure what is going to happen once we die. Maybe we'll just lie in the ground cold dead and that's it. Or maybe we'll go off to Heaven, Paradise, Valhalla, Nangijala or Titanic like Rose did in the film. What I think though, is no matter where we end up I have no doubt we'll all end up there together. Regardless of who we are and what we believe.
Just my two cents.
First of all - hi :) Nice to see you poking your head in.
Second, I just want to reply really quickly (I prefer not have full-out debates in the comments of my blog so I'll try to keep it brief) to your question. Basically, this is the way it is. God created man without sin, and everything was good. Then man sinned - because God gave them the power to make that choice, choose him or choose sin - and it all got messed up. Because God created us perfect, we cannot be with him unless we too are perfect, and that's why it's just not enough to be a good person. It's also impossible to be perfect. That's why Jesus' resurrection is so important, because he died to pay for the sins so that we didn't have to. The was I've explained it in a nutshell before is that God created us: we messed it up, not him, and therefore he had every right to be like, "Screw it. They can do their own thing" but instead sent his Son, who had never sinned, to die for us in an act that was purely love and compassion in itself.
Thank you for understanding how I can feel the way I do about this. While I can't agree with you on us all ending up in the same place, because that would render Jesus' sacrifice null and void, I'm glad you can see how, from my viewpoint, I feel sad.
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