New Year’s Reflection
Rev. Lee Ann Bryce
January 2, 2011
Rev. Lee Ann Bryce
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.
The true light which enlightens everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory. John 1:1-5, 9
At the turn of a new year, it’s appropriate to pause; to look back on the past year with its joys, accomplishments, pain, and struggle. Maybe you’re the kind of person who has already done that, but in case you’re not that kind of person and, like many of us during the holidays you are pretty much just hanging on for dear life with little time to reflect, we’re going to take a moment now. What was 2010 like for you? Consider what you were doing a year ago at this time – at your work, whatever that is, with your friends or family. What did you do last new year’s day? How did you spend your birthday in 2010? What brought you joy during the year? What caused you pain. What did you do and who did you spend time with? What about this past Christmas. Did you get what you wanted? Were you happy with what you gave? Take a moment to remember, and, if it’s helpful, to jot down notes to help you recall. (Silence)
It’s been said that the way we understand our lives is to develop a story around them. We have a certain idea of who we are and what our lives are like. And then we remember those things that are consistent with that story and we don’t notice the things that are inconsistent with that story. For example, maybe 2010 held some significant struggles for you, and when I asked you to recall what the year was like, the events that were consistent with struggle jumped readily into your mind. You thought of when you were sick without realizing the many days you felt well. You remembered when someone you loved was hurting without considering that most of the people you love enjoyed very positive experiences in 2010. We fail to see the totality of our life experiences because we elevate the importance and the impact of certain events. We see our lives through a lens that we create by the story we decide to tell about ourselves.
Here’s another example to further illustrate. On New Year’s Eve, Lisa and I spent the night at the Dimitri house. It’s a small local shelter for men who currently have no homes of their own. Fran Morse is the director of Dimitri house and it runs largely on the support of volunteers. There are seven beds for the guests and two volunteers spend the night every night. It’s a wonderful opportunity to hang out with some really interesting and appreciative folks who stay there.
Last Friday night, the shelter guests began arriving around 9, when Dimitri house opens. A few came in and went right to bed. One man sat quietly reading a book. Another brought a few liters of pop to share with everyone. Lisa and I brought dominos along and spent the couple of hours before lights out playing dominos with some of the guys and chatting with others. The diversion of the game offered an easy opportunity to talk with the men about where they were from, who their favorite sports teams were, how much we were enjoying the surprisingly warm weather. The conversation was upbeat. We were laughing about some aspect of the game when one of the guys said, “Wow, this is fun!”
11:00 lights out came along and everyone got settled for the night. I slept on a little futon by the front door and, aside from a lot of police sirens outside around midnight (Dimitri house is right at the inner loop and Main Street; not a great part of town and it was New Year’s Eve), our night inside Dimitri house passed without any incidence. The 5:45 alarm came early and Lisa and I got up to fix breakfast.
The shelter’s policy is that the men have to leave by 7 AM and so, one by one, after breakfast they got their stuff together and with a final “thank you” and “happy new year,” headed out. One took a few oranges in his pockets for a snack later. Another was happily on his way to a spot he’d staked out where he could watch some football later in the day. One guy sat drinking coffee with us, perhaps reluctant to leave. Without exception they were polite and very thankful for a warm bed and a full stomach and they looked forward to returning that night to Dimitri house.
All in all it was one of the most memorable new year’s eve’s I’ve ever celebrated and I look forward to volunteering again. (And since they’re always looking for more volunteers, if you’re interested in trying this yourself I highly recommend the experience and would be happy to talk more with you about it.)
As Lisa and I reflected on our night there, I began to wonder how volunteers remember their shift at Dimitri house? I suppose some might feel sad at coming face to face with the reality that there are people right here in Rochester who have no home. We all know this, of course, but it seems more real when you put a face with that reality. There are people who go to sleep hungry; people to whom being able to find a place just to sit on the couch and watch a football game is a luxury. Yes, that’s one way of telling the story of Dimitri house.
Here’s another way to tell the story. You might see these men for the unique individuals they are, many of them upbeat and resilient in the midst of very difficult circumstances. You might actually feel happy that these seven guys have a comfortable place to stay during all those cold Rochester nights; a place they can come and shower and get fed a good meal and be treated with respect and kindness. Some volunteers might realize how enriched their lives are because they’ve had the chance to get to know these guys, who are likely outside the circle of their regular group of friends. In other words, some might see the whole encounter with Dimitri house as being completely illuminated by the light of Christ. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.
Next week, the church year enters the season of Epiphany with its focus on the light of Christ that illuminates the darkness. I’m not big on new year’s resolutions. I like how Mark Twain put it when he said, that the new year “is the accepted time to make your annual regular resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.” But this year, I am making a new year’s resolution. I resolve, to the best of my ability and with the help of God, to see with epiphany eyes. By that I mean that I resolve to look for the light in everything, in everyone, I encounter.
The way we understand the stories of our lives matters. Epiphany eyes can help us see the same old realities in new ways. Epiphany eyes can help us to see people differently and experiences differently. Epiphany eyes help us to modify our stories.
For we are all storytellers, writing the chapters of our lives every single day. From what perspective will we write? As a victim, a lover, one angry or one softened by beauty. In the coming year, what will we write and what will be read by the likes of those around us? Not on our tombstones, but in our emerging, living story right now?
Now we stand on the cusp of a new year. What experiences will it hold for you? How will you understand and remember the things you encounter in the coming year? None of us knows what 2011 will hold, but we may be assured that somehow our futures are all held in holy hands and the light of Christ will shine.
Please join me in the unison prayer for the new year printed in your bulletin:
Many: Creative God, you make all things new in heaven and on earth.
We come to you in this new year with new desires and old fears,
new decisions and old controversies,
new dreams and old weaknesses.
Because you are a God of hope,
we know that you create all the possibilities of the future.
Because you are a God of love,
we know that you accept all the mistakes of the past.
Because you are the God of our faith,
we enter your gates with thanksgiving and praise,
and we serve and bless you. Amen.
We usually sing a song after the sermon and before we offer ourselves to God in the morning offering and the Lord’s Supper. Today, instead of singing, we’re going to simply sit and listen prayerfully to a song by Mary Chapin Carpenter, Come Darkness, Come Light. (The words are printed in your bulletins.) This song is a reminder that God loves us unconditionally; that God takes us just as we are; that no matter where we are on our journeys, God welcomes us. The light of Christ has come.
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