When we think of king
we think of royalty, people who walk around with crowns on their heads and everybody
bowing to them. Nowadays there aren’t a whole lot of kings wandering around but
there are several queens and they only wear crowns once in a while. In the
Advent story there are two kings: David, an ancestor of both Mary and Joseph
although through different lines; and Herod, king of Israel and client of Rome.
Jesus is never called a king in the nativity story, but he was offered homage
as if he were born in a palace and with a crown on his head. Granted, the
homage was from shepherds who were not exactly top-drawer status-wise, but then
Jesus wasn’t the kind of king who required such things. He was a king for the
common people, not just the nobility. There was also homage from the magi,
astrologers and wise men from the East, who brought kingly gifts like gold,
frankincense and myrrh, which, perhaps, was a foretelling of Jesus as a king of
the whole world, not just for a people called Jews.
Kindness is a
trait of generosity, whether generosity of physical stuff like gifts or
generosity of spirit. Everybody likes to be thought of as generous (except the
ones who pride themselves on being first cousins several times removed from
Ebenezer Scrooge). The bell ringers and their red kettles remind us to be
generous to the poor, toy drives for underprivileged kids pop up at fire
stations and even stores, and churches and malls cooperate (for once) with gift
trees hung with tags each having the name, age, gender, and needs of a child
who otherwise wouldn’t get a nice warm coat or new socks and maybe even a new
toy too. Those things require generosity of spirit, but just as important are
the intangible ones – a smile, a simple greeting, or an acknowledgement of
another who might be someone who might be overlooked at another time of year or
one who goes unthanked for the service they perform. Granted, some get paychecks
for what they do and companies often consider that to be thanks enough. A
generous spirit doesn’t necessarily mean handing out small tips to everybody
who does us a service, but certainly a smile and a hearty “Thank you!” wouldn’t
be amiss.
Nowadays if someone uses the word Kindle, they’re quite
often talking about an e-reader with books stored on an electronic gizmo that
weighs little but contains a lot. Kindle,
though, has another meaning, one that is often lost on those who live in warm
climates and whose sole lighting of a fire consists of using an electric match
applied to a candle or a barbecue grill. To kindle is to light, to cause
something to burn or glow. It requires a spark and something combustible, like
small twigs, shavings or a wick placed in wax or grass or the like. For
example, in several places in the BCP we entreat God to “. . . [K]indle, we
pray, in every heart. . .” (BCP p. 258) or “. . .[K]indle our hearts, and
awaken hope. . .” (BCP p. 124). During Advent we don’t really use the word
“kindle” but we nonetheless ask God to do it, to light the fire of our devotion
and dedication, to strike a spark in us to share our gifts, talents, time,
treasure and intentions to spread the kingdom Jesus taught during his earthly
life. Just as lighting a fire on a cold winter night brings light, warmth and
hope, so we are encouraged to turn our hearts and minds to God through the
incarnation that we celebrate during this season.
Whether kin or stranger, let kindness and a desire for a
closer relationship with God through his incarnate gift to us, a King above all
kings, guide us through this Advent season and into the joy of Christmas.
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