And with that, we come to the end of our 12 day journey together.  And at last, we tackle the title of Bruce Epperly’s collection of reflections that have guided us.  Today, we consider our benediction.

There was a plan to these days of words — it was the plan of preparation.  Together, we have thought about the qualities of Christmas, like joy and wonder, and love.  Together, we have looked at what it means to let Christmas be something alive in us, not just a day or even a season.  And together, we have thought about the many obstacles in the way of living a Christmas-fueled life.

Today, in our last time together on this journey, we look at the work that must continue, the work that will fill our lives if we become the Christmas-filled-soul that we desire.  Here, we taste words that may be the most well-known that Howard Thurman gave us:

When the Song of the Angels Is Stilled
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flocks,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

Again, these words, such simple yet powerful words, come from his work The Mood of Christmas.  And I ask, is there really anything else to say?

There is a lot of talk these days about #ReclaimingJesus and the #WayofLove, and it is good, it is important.  Thurman’s words are the place where our talk about these two movements meet.  He points the way to a living love, a love that is more Christ-like than anything we can find anywhere else.  It is a love that must be discovered first within before it can be shared. And it is a love that comes to us over and over again, in the story of the birth of a child.

Thurman’s challenge to us is this:  will you let every day be Christmas in this world?  Will you heal the broken, release the prisoner, and bring peace, to yourself and to others?  Will you let there be music in your heart, and will you make music for others?  Will you hold this story in your soul so that it can change your life and the world?  Will you see the light and let it do its subversive work on you and all who meet you?

We have, together, held the light of Christmas for these twelve days.  Can we hold it for 13, or 20, or 365?  Can we help each other keep the candle burning? Can we continue to live the journey, after the tree comes down and the lights are packed away, and the world comes rushing in to take our attention?

For the Feast of Epiphany, if we gather together in church, we may hear the reading for Epiphany (Matthew 2:1-12), the story of the Magi and what looks like the end of their journey, the moment when they find the child Jesus.  I say “what looks like the end” because the passage we will hear actually ends this way:  “And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road (Matt 2:12).”

We too, friends, have been warned not to return to Herod — not to return to our old ways, our old attentions, our fears and our frights.  We have been warned by this dream of Christmas to return home by another road.  I at least will give it a try.  I will remember that the work goes on.

A benediction, in a liturgical sense anyway, is short hope or prayer, a blessing really, offered at the time of sending out, the end of a worship service or the end of something else.  And we, my friends, are at the end of this stage of our journey.  And so, with heartfelt love and hope, and forever changed, I say to you one more time the very best of benedictions:

Merry Christmas.  May the work of Christmas continue in you, and through you, this day and every day.