But you Bethlehem, David’s country, the runt of the litter—from you will come the leader who will Shepherd –rule Israel. His family tree is ancient and distinguished. Meanwhile, Israel will be in foster homes until the birth pangs are over and the child is born, and the scattered brothers come back home to the family of Israel. He will stand tall in his shepherd-rule by God’s strength, centered in majesty of GOD-revealed. And the people will have a good and safe home, for the whole world will hold him in respect –peacemaker of the world. Micah 5:2

On the first day of Advent, and I sat on our window seat in my flannel pajamas. My flannel pajamas are my favorite pajamas. They are decorated with moons and stars and I as I looked at them I thought – what ridiculous attire for the first day of Advent! I studied the moon’s solid face, there, just above my knee, and I laughed, because I envisioned a conversation with my college roommate in which she tells me that my moon-and-stars are actually the Procter and Gamble icon, and everyone knows that their logo is a secret sign indicating that the company is owned by Satanists. “The CEO is actually a Satanist!” she would say, only she would whisper it. “Satanist!” Because to say it out loud would alert sleeping gremlins hiding like dust bunnies in the nether-regions of the spirit realm. Of course, I’ve never actually had this conversation with my college roommate, but it would not surprise me if I did. This is the kind of “information” she enjoys collecting. But then again, I could be wrong. It could be that she would not disapprove of my Advent attire because of its moon and stars. But she certainly would not understand how I could wear this to church, or how I could even call what my family and I do in our dining room on Sunday mornings “church.” She disapproved of “ladies” wearing “slacks” to church. Imagine how my lavender chenille robe would have set her off!

Regardless of my roommate’s understanding of church, this is how we greet each Sunday morning. This is how we get ready for Advent, for Christ’s arrival. It starts very small. We tie on bathrobes. We eat a little cereal. We do a little Sunday school routine with the girls.

This week for Sunday school, the curriculum’s theme is promises. The repeated phrase is “Sometimes they’re hard to see (point to eyes) and sometimes it’s hard to wait (fold hands in lap) but God always keeps his promise (shake finger in time with the phrase.)” The subtext of the lesson is “Jesus is the Savior God promised.” The curriculum calls this “The Point” and you are supposed to say it over and over again so it sticks in the children’s heads.

This leads me to keep thinking “saved from what?” So I try to explain this to the girls, since the curriculum doesn’t bother to do so. I ask them, “saved from what?” They look at me blankly. So I tell them that we used to walk around with God in the Garden of Eden (this they get), and that when we sinned, when we made a mistake, we messed things up and we couldn’t talk to God quite as well any more. Our mistake made space between God and us. But Jesus, he came to close up that space. To forgive us of our mistakes, and to help us talk to God, because he was God, and we could talk to him. Eden then helpfully reminds me that Jesus was here a long long time ago and we couldn’t talk to him very easily now. Yes, I said, but now Jesus actually lives right inside us, in our spirits, in our hearts. She gets this concept. She tells me about it often. But she doesn’t get how this helps us talk to God, or be near to God, or walk around a Garden with God. She doesn’t see anything when she closes her eyes for centering prayer, at least not lately, and “I never ever ever hear God’s voice, his real actual voice, Mommy.”

Frankly, I can’t help her much there. I’m not sure why it is, that even with a miracle birth and a big full-blown death on the cross, and a flashy resurrection, we still can’t talk so well with God. Shouldn’t that be enough? Shouldn’t all that redemptive stuff make it…simpler? I shove that one aside, and say, “Well sometimes you talk to him and he talks to you, and we’ll find out more ways for you to do that as time goes on, kay?” Then we get back to promises.

The exercise in the curriculum involved getting loot – small toys buried in a washtub of sand or rice. We’re trying to cut down on the whole loot thing, so instead we bury non-toys in the rice. The girls see the buckets of rice and we tell them, “We promise there is something sparkly and pretty for you in this bucket of rice.” They start digging and find……a rock. It’s brown and dull and dusty. They look confused. But Eden, being the eldest, is hip to our games and she figures there’s another level to this thing. And she’s right, because in phase two Paul sticks the rock in a sock and the girls whack at it with a hammer. It takes a couple tries and the first chunks of rocks are just more brown rocks. (I suddenly remember the sign, at the display where I bought these, which said “90% guaranteed.” I silently prayed that we didn’t have the ten percent dud.) Finally, the rocks break open to reveal white crystal formations. The rocks are geodes. There is something sparkly under there. Wowza! “What happens if I stick them in water?” Eden asks. Even better! More sparkles! God always keeps his promises.

There are other lessons about promises as well. We read Isaiah about a virgin having a baby (always a good topic for six and four year olds). We pass around a paper bag and I promise them there is something in it for them at the end of the lesson. A box wrapped in red and gold sits in the middle of our little cross-legged family circle and I promise them we will open it next Sunday. Paul and I do a little skit, with a mouse puppet named Whiskers. (He’s the “teacher” and I am “Whiskers.”) We have this little mouse-to-teacher discussion about promises—how parents break them but God never does. We tell whiskers that old men long ago told people Jesus would be born because (repeat the point-phrase for the week) Jesus is the Savior God promised. We connect the dots for little Whiskers and tell him that Jesus, born at Christmas, is the gift God promised us. Then I let the girls open the paper bag. In it they find – not the candy recommended in the curriculum—but a note from me promising to make cookies with them on Wednesday. Sometimes it’s hard to wait….but Mom’s mostly keeps her promises. Cate cries because there is not a piece of paper for her too. I give up. “Bible Story club is over” I say. “Go color your take-home sheets.” Which they do, happily.

Later, I muse about all the promises God made, and how we always expect them to turn out differently then they do. We so often misunderstand the promises. Or we only see that something was a promise in retrospect. We’re like stoners trying to put the pieces together of a very difficult puzzle. “Oh yeah, that baby that was born to some young chick..I think I read something about that once….wasn’t it the prophet dude, Isaiah?” “Probably. Isaiah talks about everything man, it has like, 70 chapters.” “It’s a conspiracy theory man, I’m telling ya.” Why is everything such a puzzle? What’s with the miscommunications and misunderstandings? Couldn’t God, with all God’s infinite wisdom, figure out how to communicate clearly? How hard is that?

The problem with promises is that waiting for them so often leads to doubt; as time rolls on, as we’re waiting and waiting, it becomes hard to have one without the other. I like this Advent-y one though, in Micah 5.

“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.”

I have a song by Lamb that uses these lyrics. It’s on cassette tape, so I’m guessing it would be what Neil calls “The bad Lamb…the 80’s Lamb.” But I like it and I play it, scratchy and warped, when I make the challah for Passover – another holiday about promises. (Next year – Jerusalem!) The band sings: As for you Bethlehem Ephratha, for you are little among Judah, but from you will come, come forth to be, who is to be ruler of Israel. And his name shall be called wonderful. And his name shall be called, mighty God. And he shall rule all nations. And we shall be at peace.

I like this grand promise. We shall be at peace. Our ruler will be wonderful. Right now, it feels like something very far away. Something that could possible exist, in a distant time or place Or maybe it feels more like something I really want to believe in – something I long to be true. Like Narnia. Like Never Never Land

The thing I like most about this promise, is that first line; you who are little among Judah. Or as Eugene puts it…but you Bethlehem, David’s country, the runt of the litter… Out of the little thing comes the reality of the promise. Out of the little thing comes peace, comes wonderful.

I have never been very good at math. I much prefer metaphors to equations. Perhaps that is why I believe so easily that something tremendous might come out of something tiny. The laws of probability do not apply when one is working in hopes, when one is dealing with dreamscapes. So as I sit here, thinking about my silly moon and stars pajamas, and the little circle of rumpled worshippers trying to explain things to each other, there on a Sunday morning floor. I think about how little this is–four people in their pajamas, a bowl of rice, a cracked-open rock, a paper bag with a slip of paper for a promise. I think to myself, this doesn’t seem like much in the face of an event as grand as Christmas. This doesn’t seem like a very big way to get ready for Advent – to get ready for a Ruler to come. But then I remember that what came to us way back then…it wasn’t very big either. Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe our little ways are just right.

As for you Bethlehem Ephrata, you are little among Judah….

For a moment hope rises above my doubt, and the promise again looms large. He will rule all nations. We shall live in peace.

I do believe in fairies. I do I do.