We are counting the days until Christmas. The gift-giving clock moves inexorably on, seemingly faster and faster.
The Christmas tree needs to be decorated. The infant, evidently a premature birth, is already sleeping peacefully in his crib, surrounded by both shepherds and magi. The gifts are piling up.
Yet there is neither sleep nor peace for us as we shop for more gifts, stand in long lines with other impatient customers, and plan our overly abundant Christmas dinner. “Hurry up!” they will say today. “There are only ___ more shopping days ’til Christmas!”
If we hurry, then maybe we will give an hour or two to the overflowing soup kitchen. We throw an extra can of cranberry sauce into our overfilled grocery cart, hoping we will remember to drop it off in time.
Maybe we will even purchase an extra pair of gloves. After all, it is really cold outside and as we tighten our hoods and zip up our very expensive fleece-lined coats, we might toss a spare coin or two into the Salvation Army kettle.
But then, as Christmas carols fill the air, a nagging thought creeps in. It is disturbing, yet persistent.
Is this all that the birth of a tiny baby in a manger is about? What about the other 364 days of the year?
Is one night with a full stomach and perhaps a bed, if one can be found in an already overcrowded shelter, really enough as the temperature drops and snow fills the air? Then another, even more aggravating, thought pushes through our carefully guarded filters as Gandhi’s famous admonition keeps drumming in: “Be the change you want to see in the world.”
It is a powerful call to action. It is quickly followed by Margaret Mead’s similar challenge: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”
One night, many years ago, I remembered their words. A group of us were standing in silent protest in front of the county courthouse. I can no longer recall what we were protesting, but I remember clearly what happened.
Each of us had brought a small candle to light, holding it up against the darkness, our gathered flames illuminating the town square. It began in silence, but as the night wore on, we lost focus and slipped into idle chatter. The mood shifted from purposeful resolve to dissipated conversation.
I found it irritating but could not very well shout, “Be quiet! We are here for a purpose!” It would have startled and annoyed them.
So, after a moment’s thought, I began softly singing the chant, “Dona nobis pacem.” I have never been praised for my singing, but my lone voice pierced the darkness.
Soon, one by one, others joined in until our strong and hopeful voices carried across the town square. Gandhi and Mead were right.
Each one of us, both individually and together, is responsible for speaking out against injustice, feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, visiting those in prison, consoling the grieving.
So before you stop listening and return to your frequently updated and ever-growing Christmas list, take a few moments to still yourself, look at the words and music of this well-known chant, and feel free to join in.
- About the Author
- Latest Posts
advocate and educator for those experiencing hearing loss.
