Dear Friends,

In the art world, chiaroscuro is the name of a technique that brings the illusion of three dimensionality on a two-dimension canvas, by boldly contrasting light and dark.  Hard-core Star Wars fans, may remember that in the novel version of Revenge of the Siths, the chapter featuring light-saber duels between Darth Vadar and Obi Wan Kenobi and the Emperor and Yoda is called Chiaroscuro.

A bold contrast between light and dark, black and white…that gives depth.

Not surprisingly, the technique of chiaroscuro emerged when Europe emerged from the Dark Ages, bringing incredibly rich examples of art, literature, and poetry.
  

At the time Carraggio painted “The Nativity” there was constant fighting in Italy and an outbreak of the plague.  Into this darkness, he paints the light that simultaneously appears to bathe and emerge from the Child lying in the manger.  Mary’s face is softened by the light, which also strikes the rapt faces of the adoring shepherds and illumines the hovering heavenly host.

The gospel of John puts it this way, “What came into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”  -John 1:4,5

As I write, we have been thrust into the unspeakable darkness of grief in the wake of a mass shooting that claimed 27 lives, 20 of them children…and the shooting that felled two police officers in Topeka.  Our hearts break for families who not only face Christmas, but the rest of their lives without a child, sibling, parent, friend. Our hearts break for the first-responders who walked into the horror and did their jobs, took care of the injured, provided for the safety of their community, and now must live with the memory of it.  Our hearts break for communities whose sense of security is shattered.  Our hearts break for a nation that has heard another wake-up call, has seen another sign of distress and now must work together to discern what must change. 

Into this darkness, Jesus comes. 

The One through whom all things are created comes to us.  There’s the light.  The One born in a tiny nowhere town called Bethlehem, in the humble setting of a stable, surrounded by the poverty, oppression and violence, now lives among us.  There’s the dark.  In this bold contrast, the Christmas story lifts us from the two-dimensional pages of Scripture to reveal a three-dimensional realm, where the birth of a child brings peace on earth, salvation for all, God’s love-in-the-flesh.

No matter what else is going on in the world no matter what concerns we carry, like a weight on our hearts, still there is simple, yet profound evidence of the goodness and grace available to us.  Real, hard evidence that God comes to us, abides with us, Our Lord, Emmanuel.

You can see it in places like Doorstep’s Christmas distribution center, where neighbors in need browse among goods donated by community members and ‘shop’ for gifts for their families.

Or, in the growing piles of scarves knit and crocheted by members of our needlework group, given away along with the mountain of gifts provided the members of our congregation, through our Christmas Adoption program.

In the faces of our youth, whose mid-night madness yields treasures for others.

In the voices of the B.A.S.I.C. choir members who sing for those isolated in hospice or nursing care facilities.

In the generous offering of those who prepare the meals and sing the songs at Noon noels.

In the red and white Christmas Joy offering envelopes that overflow from the plates and spill out to bless strangers-in-need.

In every moment of kindness when someone chooses love over fear, compassion over anger, generosity over selfishness, community over isolation.

And you will most assuredly see it on Christmas Eve when we gather, in the darkness, in the light.  In this world of conflict, we will tell the Story.  At this time of uncertainty, we will sing the carols.  Aware of the suffering of those we love and of strangers whose pain touches our vulnerability, we will say our prayers.   With broken hearts, we will come to the Table.  In spite of our deepest fears, we will light candles.

In all of these ways we add fuel to the flame of God’s love, bringing more and more light to the darkness of our world.  Like the bold contrast of chiaroscuro, may our celebration of Christmas bring us to the depths of God’s love for us, to the three-dimensional wonder of Christ’s birth for us.  Lord, hear our prayer. 

Blessings,

Cheryl

It was a 're-do' day.  After our orientation at the offices of Rebuild Joplin, most of us went to a home that is nearing the finish line.  Our assignment?  Laying tile floors in the kitchen and two bathrooms.  The challenge?  A volunteer group started the job before we got here and made a mess.  It happens.  Many of us arrive with a strong desire to help, but not necessarily with skills to do the jobs we are assigned.  With appropriate supervision and instruction, even newbies can learn how to lay a tile floor.   But the tiles laid by the previous group had to be pulled up first.

Most of our day went to scraping the residue of mortar that had dried to the floor's underlayment.  It was strenuous, tedious work, but by mid-day we were able to start applying new mortar and laying new tiles.  A couple of us applied grout between the tiles of one floor that had remained intact.  Tomorrow, we'll return to continue with the tile floors and start with installation of laminate flooring, as well.  Some are working at a warehouse, unloading, sorting and shelving new electrical supplies.

We see both the recovery of the community and the lingering challenges.  We have met Tara, the homeowner whose home is nearing its finish.  Tara initially took cover in the bathtub of her home when the tornado warnings came.  But when she felt the walls tremble, she moved to an interior closet and survived.  The house she purchased 14 months before the storm was declared a total loss and her insurance coverage paid off the mortgage debt, leaving her with an empty lot.  Her daughter was caught in her car during the storm, as a telephone pole crashed through the windshield, pinning her in the car.  Now Tara says, "My daughter was physically hurt, emotionally we're all still hurt, but we're alive and that's the most amazing thing."

In the offices of Re-build Joplin is this picture wall of homeowners waiting to come home.  A couple of the members of the group worked at the home of a family who has been living in a FEMA trailer since the tornado struck.   Thanks to the efforts of many volunteers who worked alongside them, they moved home today!  As one of the members of our group put it, even with the challenges, being here is worth it.

Blessings,
Cheryl

Up, Up, and Away!  We arrived in Joplin after a beautiful drive through Kansas and Missouri autumn countryside.  We were amused at a rest stop, when we observed a couple of goats being 'walked' in the parking lot.



Soon after our arrival at First Presbyterian Church of Joplin, this hot air balloon floated by.

We are encouraged to see signs of progress here.  Lots of new businesses are under construction; some lots have now been cleared of debris. On the other hand, we saw at least one restaurant that was open last spring, now closed.  The recovery process is not without its setbacks.

After hearing the story of the blind beggar Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46-52) in church this morning, we listened to the story again this evening, this time listening from the perspective of displaced homeowners in Joplin, volunteers who come to this community to help, and the organizations (like Re-Build Joplin) who are here for the long-haul, overseeing the process.  Just as we were settling down for our discussion, there was a knock at the door.  I went to open it and found a young man who was, along with his wife, stranded without shelter, looking for help.  Faced with our very own Bartimaeus, we listened to his story and gave him some food.  He seemed to have an idea about where they could spend the night, so he departed.  We were struck, once again, by the irony that we came to this place to serve the people of Joplin without knowing how we would be asked to serve.  As we continued our reflection on the story of Bartimaeus, someone noticed the alliterative similarity between Jericho (where Bartimaeus called out for mercy from Jesus) and Joplin (where displaced homeowners are, likewise, crying out for mercy).  We observed that we, too, are asked to throw off the cloak of security in order to follow Jesus.  We were struck by the question Jesus asked Bartimaeus, "What would you like me to do for you?"  We picked prayer partners and talked with one another about how we might answer this question, if Jesus asked it of us.

Bright and early tomorrow morning, we'll receive our work assignments from Re-Build Joplin.  Blessings, Cheryl and Team Joplin!