The Longest Night: A Service of Reflection during Advent

Reflection for the Longest Night Service
December 19, 2012

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from the One who is, who was, and who is to come. Amen.

The night I met my husband, I sat across a table with him at a party in Frankfurt, Germany. Mutual friends were determined to introduce us to each other, knowing we were both from Oklahoma. I was…uninterested. You see, I was in Germany for a year of studying music abroad. I couldn’t think of anything less interesting to do on my grand European adventure than to meet an Okie.

And so our conversation that night began with a quiz. I was clearly not trying to impress this stranger across the table, so I pestered him with questions—to be sure he was really from Oklahoma, you see.

What are the two major universities in Oklahoma? OU and OSU, he said.

What’s the state bird? Scissortail flycatcher.    

Where’s the best pizza? The Hideaway in Stillwater.

Hmmm…so far, so good.

But then I threw a zinger at him.

What is the state flower?

And he replied: Mistletoe.

Wow! He passed the test! I couldn’t believe it. And so we kept on talking. It’s been 18 years now, and we’re still testing each other daily.

But back to the point—in case you wondered what it was!—and the point is: Mistletoe is a mighty strange choice for a state flower.

The first reason it’s an odd choice is we rarely see mistletoe around these parts except when it’s hanging above kissing couples at Christmastime. But it sounds even odder if you happen to know the mistletoe is a parasitic (or, technically, hemi-parasitic) plant. This means mistletoe usually does not grow on its own, but instead survives by clinging to a tree.

Now, the story goes that mistletoe was adopted as the state flower of Oklahoma on February 11, 1893, after Chicago hosted the World Fair. Apparently all states or would-be-states, wanting to be part of the union, were requested to name their state flower at that time.

I’m not sure who chose mistletoe (or if it was chosen for them) but when residents of the Oklahoma territory found out, they were infuriated. There was much ado about a berry-bearing parasitic plant becoming their state flower. It took a while for them to get over it. Some still are not happy about it to this day! In fact, in 2004, they voted to officially adopt the Oklahoma Rose in its place.

This isn’t too surprising, really. After all, Okies—and Americans in general--are fiercely independent. Who wants to be associated with a parasite? We don’t need that kind of reputation! We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps! We survive the wild, wild, west, braving dust storms and locusts! We can do this on our own! 

So goes the American myth of independence. But if you are sitting here tonight, then I’m going to guess you have learned a thing or two about your ability to handle everything on your own. Some days—some weeks—some years—life knocks us off our high horse, and we realize how vulnerable we really are. When a spouse, a child, or a parent dies; when the doctor says “cancer”; when the boss says “laid off”; when the reporter says “26 dead, 20 of them children”; we are brought to the uncomfortable realization that we lack the strength to go it alone. This load is too heavy. This pain is too intense. This darkness will not be vanquished by my strength, my fortitude, or a positive attitude.

And so we gather here tonight, one of the longest nights of the year. We gather to acknowledge that we cannot do it alone. We need a light in the darkness. We need hope for tomorrow. We need a friend. We’ve been uprooted, and we need someplace to call home.

The poet Robert Herrick wrote:

“Lord, I am like to mistletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow
Or prosper but by that same tree
It clings about; so I by Thee.
What need I then to fear at all,
So long as I about Thee crawl?”

Sisters and brothers, tonight we come seeking the Tree of Life, Jesus Christ. We know, now more than ever, that we cannot live without Him. We, like the humble mistletoe plant, must be grafted into that tree in order to survive. We need His love, His grace, His forgiveness. We need the promise that this darkness is not all there is. We need the hope that one day, we will have the strength to bloom once again! We need to know we are not alone in the world.

Hear the words of beloved spiritual author Henri Nouwen:

“God came to us because he wanted to join us on the road, to listen to our story, and to help us realize that we are not walking in circles but moving towards the house of peace and joy. This is the great mystery of Christmas that continues to give us comfort and consolation: we are not alone on our journey. The God of love who gave us life sent us his only Son to be with us at all times and in all places, so that we never have to feel lost in our struggles but always can trust that he walks with us…
Christmas is the renewed invitation not to be afraid and let him—whose love is greater than our own hearts and minds can comprehend—be our companion.” (Henri Nouwen, “Gracias! A Latin American Journal”)

This year, my dear ones, amidst the lights and the trees, Santa and the elves, and all the other symbols of the season, perhaps the lowly mistletoe plant will be a Christmas symbol that brings you comfort.  When you leave tonight, I invite you to take a bit of it home with you--a gift from me. And over the next days, when you see it, remember that you, like the humble mistletoe, are never going it alone. You have an unshakable foundation. In Christ, you have a bottomless source of comfort and healing. Cling to Him, the One who became flesh and lived among us, and in whom we have life eternal. Amen.