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The season of Obedience

And the campus got decked in merry colours and glowing lights; Yes! Christmas is here. One question that is generally included in most of the services this season is "What does Christmas mean to you?" I have had my own share of narrating what Christmas means to me and how that meaning has actually changed or grown over the years as I too grew older. For those of us who are now older, we might be a tad tired of the question but for the sake of those who are still getting to understand Christmas better each year, it is a question worth asking.   Incidentally, the other day my wife and I were having a small conversation on the same and one of the word that came up was "obedience." Yes, Christmas is termed as the season of peace, of hope, of love, of goodwill and among the many other themes, I think obedience is also one to think of. So where do we see obedience in the Christmas story? Think of Mary who in obedience submitted herself to the message of God, think of Jose...
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Hope

What does hope look like? In a conference, we were each given play clay and asked to shape an object that symbolized hope for us as individuals. Everyone set to work with much excitement. Most of us a little unsure about the task, looking around at what the early starters were making, some small discussions and giggling as we each set to decide on an object to shape. Eventually, we all finished and with much delight looked at what each of us crafted.  Hope may appear different from person to person but having hope is a shared phenomenon. Losing hope is also a sad reality, but that is for another time. Our symbols of hope may also change as we grow and gain richer and deeper experience in life. One of the poems that I now resonate with a little more is William Butler Yeats' A Prayer For My Daughter . I look at this as a prayer of hope that Yeats expresses for his daughter as a storm, symbolising a chaotic world she would grow up in, rages on. Like Yeats, I have the joy of being a fa...
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The Boy on the Bus

He was just a boy on the bus, calling out to people to get on board. His eyes counted the empty seats and his voice called out for people to fill them up. I watched as he checked to see all the seats were taken and then he called out to the driver to start the bus. The trip to the town began and he came around collecting the fares - little hands gripping the bills and the coins inspecting the bills carefully and returning changes. He did it with ease, after all he was used to it. I couldn't but help think about this little boy as I watched him from my seat. Perhaps another of his age would have been delighted to go on such a ride. Another would have loved the sights of the "world" passing by but this boy kept his eyes on his little hands with the fares and the change. What might have been a delight to another was to him a routine. He will step down not because he has reached his destination but a stop to let people down and take in others. The youngest on board, he w...
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