Religious Education Musings
by Rev. Ellie Duhamel, Director of Religious Education

December 2007

In our hymnal there is a hymn whose first line sings, “The holidays are here again, to lift the dark’ning year”.  What a lovely image, of light and love and laughter, of memories shared and dreams still held in silence.  It is also, increasingly, it seems, a time of challenge, to keep frustration and exhaustion from dimming the light and the love, the dreams of what may yet be.

Mine is a wonderful job.  I would wish for everyone that their work could be an expression of their beliefs and values. In my life, this is a gift all the year around.

As to gifts, I have been amused this year to have had it brought to me with great clarity that, it is possible to go beyond the truth that, when it comes to gifts, often the best things are not ‘things’. After three months of nail-biting anxiety, our dear house in Henniker is sold. We loved that house, and loved living in it, and we are grateful. The time had come for us to part with it, though, and on the fifth try for a closing date, the deed is done. This holiday season, a great gift in our lives is a non-house, an open space in our lives where there used to be something that no longer contributed to our wholeness and growth. I’ve been thinking that there are probably many such gifts we could give ourselves and others.

One gift for you this year that is NOT in the above category is the intergenerational Sunday service on December 9.  By coming to the service, you are given the joy of sharing an hour with our beautiful children and, in turn, give them the gift of your loving and caring presence.  I hope you will come to this celebration of light. Good for everybody’s wholeness and growth!

As another gift, I offer you this reflection. I found it in a UU collection and liked it and then realized it was written by Charles Stevens, one of this church’s former ministers.

“May the spirit of this season help us find our way through the noise and turmoil of the days ahead into the heart of Christmas itself, to its quieter joy and its peace.

May we learn that we cannot hear the songs until our own hearts learn to sing.

May we, whose needs are so great, know how close we are to what we seek, and how often the things we want so desperately are ours already.

May we be strong enough for the joys and the pains of love; and may we, with quiet persistence in our hearts, learn to enjoy the small happenings of our days and hours and find in them the meaning that touches us most deeply, that moves us most profoundly.

May we find that life is good. Amen”

I wish for you, especially in this, the darkest month of the year, a lightening of the dark places in your life.

Love,