Today’s readings ask us to do something wildly out of character for Americans two days from Christmas – slow down to listen for the voice of God. That’s a tall order amidst the shopping, wrapping, cleaning and baking to say nothing of coping with the dreaded words, “some assembly needed.”

It would be much easier if God would just teach us his paths (as the psalm says) or send his messengers to the door like a UPS driver. Couldn’t God have anticipated that some day He’d have to get our attention through TV or Instant Messaging?

No, God’s ways are not our ways, especially at this hyper-frantic time of year.  God speaks to us subtly, quietly and often through messengers we no more expect than Israel anticipated John the Baptist.  They’re out there, as I found out on a bleak, memorable Christmas Eve in 1968.

I was feeling very sorry for myself as I drove to midnight Mass over the snowy country road on which I had grown up.  Even the perfect Christmas card setting of the full moon shining on the creek couldn’t make this evening seem remotely joyous.  My boyfriend had just left for two long years of Peace Corps service in India and several friends had been drafted because of the Vietnam War that I hated.  Then over the radio, I heard “God’s voice.”

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. . .” read the astronauts circling the moon that night.  Their voices crackled from thousands of miles away.  I thought of my boyfriend who was also thousands of miles away.  Was he seeing this same moon tonight?  Perhaps hearing the same timeless words, maybe feeling some of the same things? 

As I drove the familiar path to town, I felt the presence of God and the meaning of Christmas.  The troubles of today would pass.  God had been there through all eternity; we are part of some mysterious plan.  With faith, we have hope.  Amen.  Allelulia! 

Merry Christmas!