Lighting fires of hope

The worst thing of all would be for the Messiah to be born in Metropolitan Richmond this December and for all of us to miss it. Yet one wonders how in the world we could ever see it.

For one thing, we are so fragmented, so without a single center, that wherever it was, most of us would not come in contact with the event. Shepherds and wise men and an assortment of cows, donkeys, and sheep could gather in one subdivision or one neighborhood or at one shopping center or at one church or gas station or school and it would be to the rest of us as if it never happened.

Press releases, even if they appeared, would sound like the hundreds of other promotions that we have to listen to and disregard every day. I doubt that any of us would believe it. The media is so fragmented anyway, that if it appeared in one publication or on one blog or on one channel only a few devotees would hear or read it. And frankly, unless someone was killed in the process, it wouldn’t be sure of making the eleven o’clock news.

We would expect some church or other to try to capitalize on the event. If that happened, the news would circulate only to the small group of other churches which represented that sector of Christianity. And even if the news got out further, churches in other groupings would be pretty certain it could not be legitimate. Moreover, the pressures of Christmas schedules of concerts, services, and pageants about the Birth of Christ would take precedence.

The race of the Messiah would pretty much determine who heard the announcement and who gathered around. What happens in one ethnic group in metropolitan Richmond is often not known at all to members of the other ethnic groups. If it is, the significance of it to the populace is seldom felt or understood. The news arrives late if at all.

If it occurred in East or West Richmond or Southside, East or West Chesterfield, East or West Henrico, or even Hanover or Amelia, the event would be insulated from the population of the other areas, even though the metropolitan city has only one million people. And in any case, hardly anyone – be they shepherds or wise men or teenagers or older persons or kinfolk or corporate presidents — would be able to get to the birthplace by public transportation.

What, then?

What would it take for the Messiah to be born in Metropolitan Richmond in 2014, and for that event to be hailed by all of us who sit in darkness, in the shadow of death, seeking the light of God’s salvation?

How might this fragmented place, with all of its chaos, be brought together in spirit by the one who carries the bringing-together spirit of God?

It would take hope.

“Hope that is seen is not hope,” Paul said. “For who hopes for what is seen?” Hope is not seen. Hope is a way of seeing.

Hope is one of the three special gifts of seeing which come through the holy spirit of God. [The other two are faith and love).

When you see with the eyes of hope, you are constantly looking for the birth of Jesus and its fruits. And we know the fruits of the spirit: they are in personal healing and reconciliation, forgiveness and love, companionship and redemption, success and recovery. We see them if we are looking.

But they are also in the larger, even more impossible things – in the erosion of injustice, the recognition of the depth of racism, the appearance of constructive intentions, the nurture of education, the care of the community — and in the profound knitting together of a society that has been divided so long.

Make no mistake about it: our disunion is not of God. Our schools and our churches, our county and city governments, our big and little businesses, our media, all of these have a larger purpose which is to bring us together as a people. There are invisible ties binding all of us to one another. If we commit ourselves to justice and mutual health, we will not be afraid to come together.

Then it wouldn’t really matter where the Messiah was born. He or she could be born in Whitcomb Court or Wyndham, in Charter Colony or North Chesterfield, in Stonehenge or Salisbury, in Ettrick or East Henrico, on River Road or on Jeff Davis Highway.

With the eyes of hope, we might all see the glory of God in the sky. With the ears of hope, we might all hear the angels singing. With the ambition of hope, we might all follow that star to the house or apartment or trailer, small or large, suburban or urban, in whatever neighborhood in whatever jurisdiction, to find the baby, of whatever race or religion, who was born to declare our unity with God and with one another.

The birth of the Messiah in Metropolitan Richmond in December 2014 may be a fantasy, but the centrality of his call and the ambition of his hope and the direct promise of glory is not a fantasy. It is to be seen. It is to be lived. Here, now.

God is here.

Benjamin P. Campbell, Senior Pastor