You know what it means to come in out of the cold. You are a spy. Part your life is a secret life. You are at least a little ashamed of this. Even your spouse or your lover, your best friend, your children don't know everything you do in private, and certainly not everything you think.
This is a little risky, but let me try it. In the Christmas spirit I want a show of hands here. How many of you keep at least some small part of your life secret from everyone, even from those who love you the most?
Let me begin by forgiving you. Not me, of course, but God. What I can say is this. I don't think it is possible to be human and not keep at least one or two secrets. I'm not even going to offer a list of possibilities, because some of them would not be suitable for mixed company. But I do know this. Even the children here already have a secret or two that they keep from their parents. Often for very good reason. But sometimes, also, for very bad reasons. Most of our secrets hurt us more than they hurt those we are hiding from.
The weather has finally turned. It is getting colder now. We brace ourselves a bit before going outdoors. I still sometimes forget to wear an overcoat. My doorman upbraids me, but then it is too late. And so I suffer. I don't suffer for long. My commute is exactly one block. Even I am man enough to endure two minutes of punishment. But am I man enough to endure more than that? Sometimes I am. And when I confess a secret to someone who will forgive me not an earth-shattering secret (fortunately most of us don't have anything momentous to confess) but a little, grating, selfish, narcissistic secret I am almost always forgiven. I come out of the cold, and the world is surprisingly warm.
We are entering the winter season. Holidays happen now for a good reason. We need them. In winter, wearing overcoats is fully appropriate. Wearing armor is not. It never is. An open heart, an open life, is vulnerable. But protecting ourselves sometimes makes us even more vulnerable. We have to put on more armor. Finally we can't bear its weight.
This is a Christmas sermon, by the way. A family Christmas sermon. It is a sermon for the children among us, and their parents. A sermon for rich people and poor people, for those staying in the inn and those who are not welcome. There is no better time than Christmas to say something that applies to absolutely everybody, for Christmas is the one and only holiday that celebrates birth, one of two things, with death, that each and everyone of us share. We are not born good as the liberal theologians claim. Nor, as the Calvinists and fundamentalist claim, are we born evil. We are born -- if not completely fettered by circumstance free: free to grow, free to change, free to give and by so giving to receive, not the gift not of life, which comes without our asking, but the gift of a meaningful and fulfilling life.
Right now we are buying gifts for our loved ones. This is just fine. Christmas gifts are good, they are just not good enough. The only truly good gift we can give one another is ourself. Not wrapped, but unwrapped. No fancy ribbons and bows, just us, as we are and as we want ourselves to be.
Please don't leave this service and go out and tell your loved ones something about yourself that will destroy their Christmas. Even John LeCarre's spies come out of the cold just a little at a time. But when you tell them you love them, try to prove it in a more meaningful way than by a gift, even a thoughtful gift. On Christmas Eve or Christmas day, take a little time, pick up the phone. Or go around the table, let the food get cold, warm up the room with your confessions of appreciation and love.
Our most important secrets are certainly things we should be unafraid to share. They are words of love unspoken. Telling our children how proud we are of them, no matter how they are doing in school. Telling our friends that they save our lives in so many ways. Telling our parents or spouses that we could not exist without them. These are secrets too many of us keep.
Why? I don't really know why. Maybe we are embarrassed to share them. Maybe we want to appear self-sufficient and strong. Maybe we think of ourselves, in a deep and often unselfconscious sense as unworthy, even unworthy of our loved one's love. The problem is, when we don't offer our love in answer to their need for love, this prophecy is self-fulfilling.
It's going to get colder over the next few weeks. That couldn't matter less. What matters is in our hearts. To come out of the cold, open your heart.
Let me practice for you. To my children, Frank and Nina, Jacob and Nathan, you have each disappointed me at times and worried me at times, even as you -- I too -- disappoint and worry yourselves. I have sometimes been a bad father. I confess this, and regret it. But I love you unconditionally. You are here on earth by your parents' invitation, not your own. You are a gift to us and to the world. I rejoice in it. You are my favorite Christmas presents.
To my wife, Carolyn, you came out of the cold a long, long time ago. Blessedly you also came into my life. I learn from you every day. Sometimes I don't learn as much as I should. But you always forgive me when I don't. I am so proud of you, so grateful for you. You are my Christmas angel.
To my friends: you often save me from myself. You also give me great joy in loving you. Friendship is never having to say you're sorry. I delight in your friendship.
And to you, my congregation. Almost a quarter century we have been together. That's really quite amazing. You will never know what a gift you are, not only to me but to one another as well. We go through life together and through death together. We fail and recover together. We make a difference in this great big world, which is more than any one of us could do without one another's help. We sing together, cry together and work together. We make ourselves and one another better people. More than we give ourselves credit for, we too, together in this church, come out of the cold.
Adapt the script. Mine is a template, easy to adapt to your own life and loves. Give thanks for your parents. Give thanks for the chair and the light and the mouse. Play "Goodnight Moon" with your life, but say "Hello" to everything in the room.
You will still have secrets. That's okay. God has more secrets than any one of us does, more secrets by a long shot. So forgive yourselves your own. And others theirs. Tell one secret (it will be good for you) and then go out this holiday season and love one another to a faretheewell.
Don't leave off your overcoat. That would be silly. But don't leave out your heart either. That would betray the Christmas spirit. Copyright AllSouls 1999.
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