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HomeMy WebLinkAboutTimes-Advocate, 1986-12-24, Page 4Tines -Advocate, ti ti• Ames • Published Each' Wednesday Morning at Exeter, Ontario, NOM 130 Second Cla s.Mail Registration Number 0386. I C3 Phone 519-335.1331 ' c n eNA o� LORNE EEDY Publisher • JIM BECKETT Advertising Manager SILL BATTEN Editor HARRY DEVRIES Composition Manager ROSS HAUGH Assistant Editor DIC IONGKIND Business Manager SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Canada: $25.00 Per year, U.S.A. $65.00 C.W.N.A., O.C.N.A. CLASS 'A' Emmanuel - God With Us! By Rev. Richard W. Hawley Exeter United Church voca i South Huron, North Middlesex & North Lambton Since 1873 Published by I.W,, Eedy Publications united PIP YOU SLEIGH THE REINDEER LIKE 1 ASKED, DOPEY? You who bring good tidings to Zion go up on a high mountain. You who bring good tidings to Jerusalem, lift up your voice -and shout, lift it up, do not be afraid; say to the towns of Judah, "Here is your God!" - Isaiah 40:9 (NIV) What wonderful words these must have been when heard by the ancient Israelites, who were at the time, confused and perplex- ed exiles in Babylon. I believe they are wonderful words for twen- tieth century people too. We live in a bewildering, bewildered era. A time when we glory in the magnificent accomplishments of medicine, replacing defec- tive organs, giving people new life, the climax of co-operation and teamwork of many people; and a time when we despair in the con- tinuing struggle to get the co-operation of a few people to work out a continuing peace settlement in the Middle East. A time when world powers must be held in check by comparable nuclear arsenals rather than the beauty of human trust. A time when we are told we must negotiate from strength rather than as brothers and sisters who share the same planet. A time when one part of the world limits its food production while another part differs from malnutrition. A time' when technology has made production possibilities limitless, while the economy slows production to a standstill. A time when part of the world has great and wonderful freedoms while other countries deny their citizens basic rights. We are a people who live in a time of fear. Fear that some day, somebody will push that button that could unleash a nuclear holocaust. Fear of being taken over by the Russians. Fear of a total economic depression that would bring a sudden halt to our high standard of living. , .. , , • As we look at human life, it's like being on a teeter-totter. We sit between belief in our almost limitless capacity to advance in knowledge and power and disgust at the pettiness, stupidity and cruelty of a race apparently aiming to destroy itself. So where is the wonder in the words, "Here is your God!". Where is the messge of hope and comfort that Christmas is sup- , posed to bring. A little girl returned home after visiting a neighbour's house, where her playmate had died. "Why did you go?", asked the father. "To comfort her mother.", replied the child. "What could you do to comfort her?", the father continued. The girl answered "I climb- ed onto her lap and cried with her." The miracle of Christmas is that God climbed into that Bethlehem crib to cry with us, to laugh with us; to die with us. That is comfort that says so much more than, "I care about you." This is comfort that moves into our life and takes over, overwhelming us with love and mercy. We will always face difficult times and seemingly insurmountable barriers as we journey through life. There is nothing you and bcan do to remove the hurdles of life. It takes the action of God who levels the valleys, lowers the moun- tains, who makes the steep and rough places smooth. Real com- fort comes when we realize that it is God in that manger, coming to share our life, to live alongside us and to he part of our ex- perience. That is the promise of Emanuel - God with us! Yes, Jesus is born. Mary has delivered the Saviour. The light has entered our darkness. The Word has become flesh. "Here is your God!' He comes, He rules, He feeds, He gathers, He carries, He gently heals, He leads. "Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth." PEACE Delivering messages The time has come again for the writer's final column of the current year' For some reason it generally tends to be the most dif- ficult of the or so that are re- quired to fill his space. As most column writers would agree, formulating a topic or idea for print each week is the difficult aspect. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was stopped at the local post of- fice by a semi -retired member of the clergy who broached the sub- ject of weekly sermons and col- umns; and he suggested that perhaps those in his profession had a little easier task in that they had only to pick out a text from their source book and then expound on it. He was correct to a point, although it must be acknowledg- ed that those of us who choose our texts from current events have an almost equally unlimited source of ideas. Columnists probably s• hare tnother concern with members of he cloth and that is in the area • of audience, although they again • come out slightly ahead in that theirs is a more visible one. They can count noses to determine ex- actly how many are on hand to hear the message, while writers have no such easy way of deter- mining what audience their printed message receives. Messages from the pulpit also provide instant reaction to whim- sical anecodotes and the purveyor of the spoken word has a distinct advantage in being able to raise his "voice or thump his podium should some member of the audience be seenxto be nod- Batt'n Around ding off into the world of oblivion. Of course, some ministers would argue that purveyors of the written word don't have to suffer through the disconcerting Visible proof that their efforts are being met with heads nodding toward slumberland. Of course, the real test for both groups comes not primarily from knowing whether the message is heard and understood, but rather whether it impacts on the au- dience in the manner for which it was intended. While come col- umns are written strictly for au- dience enjoyment .or enlighten- ment, there are thosewhich Are penned in an effort to stimulate some, or all of the audience into action (or to decease in some) ...with The`Editor n and generally that is the target from the pulpit as well. • • • • • Obviously, one does not have to look very far to ascertain that the message is often ignored, or perhaps more correctly, has fail- ed to reach those for whom it was intended. There are certainly times when the message can be fairly described as one that falls into the category of do as I say, not as I do. However, ministers again have a distinct advantage in that regard as their messages per- taining to suggested action from their Tudience can be attributed to a Higher Source than themselves, while the editorial message stems basically from an earthly individual who is express- ing only a personal thought or opinion. Thankfully, there is also less pressure on column writers to be seen -as living in the manner which they may espouse in their message. That's an onus few of us would care to share with the clergy. • • • • • But on closer examination, isn't that really at the nub of many of our problems? We ex- pect others to live by all the rules and yet fail to measure up ourselves. We talk of giving and still get more pleasure from Please turn to page 5 • Choosing the tree There are no rights or wrongs when it comes to Christmas trees. Some families are perfect- ly happy with their synthetic tree. It can be neatly packed away for storage and unpacked again without mess or pain. It is cheaper in the long run than buy- ing trees from a dealer lot. Whether your tree is made of green polyethylene or white styrofoam is, a matter of taste. I'm sure that some people have an extremely happy, cozy Christmas with an artificial tree, while some have a lonely, miserable Christmas with a real one. It's our hearts that count, not the texture of the decorations. But because we are fortunate to live close to the bush, we feel most comfortable with a freshly cut, natural Christmas tree. For as long as our children can remember, we have always "harvested" our tree in the same spot. So last year, too, we careful- ly planned this important event that usually takes place a week before Christmas. First we called the farmer who owns the land. We don't want others to trespass on our proper- ty, and no matter how dense the bush, the person who owns it has a right to say yes or no. Once we had permission, Operation Spruce went into high gear. As it turned out, the day was perfect. Some fresh snow had fallen during the night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the snow crystals sparkled in the afternoon sun. It was cold, but not windy. We assembled our litte caravan. Alexander was allowed to carry the axe because he was almost ,seven. Duncan, and Stephanie each pulled their own little sleigh'when we started out down' the line, but Mom had to pull the kids once in a while. Dad followed with the big "freight toboggan" and the tree saw. We were equipped for action. We found the almost overgrown path that leads to the clearing where spruce and balsam trees grow in all sizes. Along the path we investigated the many different tracks, the real ones 'made by rabbits and deer, mice and birds, and the im- agined ones made by dragons and spacemen, lions and elephants. Across our way, an avalanche of snow fell from a branch, and we all pretended to be buried. Fortunately, a large Saint Ber- nard appeared on the scene with a flask of hot chocolate strapped to his collar. He dug us out with his enormous paws, barked loud- ly and licked our faces until we felt better. Finally we arrived at the clear- ing. Everybody picked a different tree. Everybody wanted their tree to be it. But Dad was the man with the saw. And the veto. It was a big production, felling' that seven foot spruce. First the snow had to be shaken off. When we were all satisfied that the tree was straight and even, we set to work. Alexander got on one side of the saw, Dad on the other. And we imagined we were pioneers cutting down tall pine trees to make our first log cabin. We had just arrived on a sailing ship that took seven weeks to cross the ocean, and it had taken us another three months to get to this spot in the bush. All our belongings were scattered around us. There were seventeen babies crying, and some of them even had the chickenpox. Mom didn't know where to turn first. But fortunately Dad and Alex- ander gave one last powerful blow with the axe and the gigan- tic tree came crashing down. Our log cabin never got built because Duncan had to go to the bathroom. Naturally, Stephanie had to go too. And when we had every single layer of clothing back in place, Mom said: "Enough of this nonsense, let's go home before it gets dark." We stra s , • , the spruce onto the. big. to' . ggan. an mad 8tephsnie decides Wyiech wanted a baby tree for their room. Of course, we ended up with three babytrees,.carried for the first hundred meters by the children, for the rest of the way by Mom and Dad. About half an hour later, an ex- hausted but happy crew arrived at the house. We were Arctic ex- plorers returning from the North Pole. We hadn't seen anything but ice floes for three months. We had been•pursued by polar bears and - as Duncan insisted - by grizzly bears. And we hadn't had food or drink in seventeen days. (Seventeen seems to be a favourite number with Duncan and Stephanie.) We left the Christmas trees outside, dro the axe and the saw, and rus ed into the house, where in no time at all real hot chocolate and real Christmas cookies helped to save us all from total starvation. It was getting dark now. We lit the candles on our advent wreath, and we sang a couple of Christmas carols. It would • be another magic Christmas. And this year, too, we hope for love and joy and peace. Wherever you spend the holidays, in your home or away, with your loved ones or alone, let us all shake your hands and wish you a very merry Christmas. Peter, Elizabeth, Alexander, Duncan and Stephanie. A time for giving .. "Christmas is for giving" is the name of a current song which I heard on the radio the other day. Sometimes it seems that that spirit of giving has somehoWbeen lost in theworld. People have in- stead found themselves caught up in the treachery of arms deals to countries which do not need more guns, in the violence which leaves youngsters dead in the streets, in the grief of a loved one dead in an unnecessary car accident. People listen to the barrage of commercials which spew out of the tube and think that they have to have the latest in toys and clothes for their children this year and that they are bad parents if they don't spend their last cent and more on giving and giving. They buy things such as Rambo dolls which are experts on killing people and spend much money on the latest Barbie dolls which are miniature sexy adults. Then they wonder why the kids are aggressive at such an early age. But let it now be said that not all people have lost the good feel- ing of Christmas. Let me tell you about a few who are out there try- ing to make the world a little bet- ter place at this time of year. I was in downtown London the other night during a miserable By the Way by Fletcher snowy blizzard. The traffic was very heavy and people were try- ing to come onto the main street from an equally busy sidestreet. None of the people on the main drag were giving an inch. They all wanted to get home. The guy in front of me though stopped and let one in. The fellow in the other car waved his hand. Then the fellow in the first car let another 'in and another. I was in the lane next to him and could see the grin on his face getting bigger and big- ger as the cars rolled by. Twelve in all before we started moving again. I couldn't help but smile along with him. Then there's the Salvation Ar- my people standing in the malls and on street corners for many hours. They've got the spirit of Christmas thoroughly ingrained in their hearts. There's a teacher I know who dug into her own pocket to buy a warm coat and mitts for the lit- tle ty,ke in her classroom who was coming in each day during last week's cold spell with just a thin nylon windbreaker on and never any mittens. Then I have a friend who took the time and money and effort to buy a Cabbage Patch doll for a little girl down the street who would never have had one otherwise. Oh there's some good out there, a lot of it to be sure. Youust have to look past the bad to find it. May you and yours have a tru- ly happy Christmas.