Like all the holiday decorations, the Nativity was stored in a cedar chest in the basement. The wobbly wooden stable and each character wrapped in newspaper and held in a shoebox. Old dried hay was kept in a sandwich bag. My grandpa made most the figures. Mary, Joseph, Jesus, a cow, the sheep, shepherds, and two of the wise people. The third was plastic and couldn’t stand on its own, purchased from the craft store where we bought our tree in the parking lot.
Throughout Advent, the Nativity became a play station. More exciting than any video game could ever be. I re-enacted stories I learned in Sunday school and made up new ones. Re-created movie scenes. Once I turned the Nativity into the set of Going Ape, a movie from the early 1980s starring Tony Danza, who inherits his father’s three orangutans and will also receive millions if he can keep the animals alive and well for five years. Danny DeVito plays a peculiar character, named Lazlo, who offers interesting bits of wisdom as the plot unfolds. Lazlo is no Yoda or Gandalf, but he’s weirdly wise in an endearing sort of way.
Of everyone in the Nativity, I was most drawn to the mysterious Wise Ones. As a child, creatively waiting for Jesus to be born, I wondered where these wise ones were from, what their wisdom was, why they brought the gifts they did, and if they were really all men. What about wise women and children and queer folks like me? What about people who can’t afford expensive gold, frankincense, and myrrh? Can we be wise too? What do I have to know to be wise? What is wisdom?
I’ve known some really smart people in my life, but wouldn’t necessarily consider them all wise. I figured out a long time ago that knowledge is not synonymous with wisdom. That what we know has meaning and what we do with what we know has immeasurable worth.
Someone told me once that wisdom comes from experience. To me, this sounds a lot like people who say “tests and trials come to teach us” and that “we go through hard times to learn how strong we are.” Not really helpful. I believe experience and wisdom are related and wrestle with their exact connection. How does a similar experience influence people in such differing ways?
Wisdom, in my experience of Christianity, is paired with humility. Wise people downplay what they know. Are slow and cautious to share their wisdom so not to be labeled proud or boastful or arrogant. The Christmas story, as taught in church, caused me to believe that wisdom is selective and reserved. That it is rare. That being wise is not what I should seek, but rather that I should surround myself with others who possess this virtuous quality.
The biblical text offers very little information on the Wise Ones. They are only found in one of the four Gospels. Matthew, calls them Magi, possibly a class of priests and astrologers, who came from the East following a star at the order of a powerful and oppressive ruler. They brought expensive gifts and after discerning the risks of travel, decide to take an alternate way home.
This Advent I have intentionally taken another road. I decided months ago that my waiting needed a new path than the one I started out on. That the faith of my childhood, while influential, is no longer the sole map for my life. I spent time discerning. Where I am and where I am going. If not simply hope, peace, joy, and love what is it I am waiting for? What does it mean to wait wisely?
One morning as I sat doodling candles and lightbulbs with new markers and rolling playdough, it dawned on me. It’s not what I’m waiting for, but rather what is waiting for me?
Over the last year, I have been constantly and continuously drawn to creativity. To be creative. To share my creativity. To expand my understanding of creativity. To recognize my creativity is not limited to poetry and putting words on paper. To creatively bring people together. To cultivate creativity in the world.
On a recent walk, I stopped to just observe a large outdoor Nativity at a downtown church. Why am I so drawn to this? Perhaps for the same reasons I was drawn to the Nativity of my childhood. The possibilities. The wonder. The questions and ideas it brought to life. The invitation it delivered to find myself in the story; to name the wise ones; to honor my own wisdom with the same energy and commitment I’ve given to studying and seeking the wisdom of others.
What if wisdom is the creative reflection of experience and knowledge and imagination that stirs healing, disrupts power, ends violence, inspires hope, pursues peace, sparks joy, and births love for all?
What if we allow creativity to be the star?
The path we follow.
The light we seek.
The gift we bring.
Today, I invite you to dive into these questions as a way to wait wisely and creatively.
With Water and Wonder,
Rebecca & 10 Camels
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I subscribe to creativity. I say you are smart when you learn from your mistakes. You are wise when you learn from others mistakes. I also think when we pray to God we are asking. When we are silent we are listening to God. In silence comes our creativity. Just some thoughts. XO Cheryl W