And for those of you familiar with the book, you will recall that Dr. Seuss sets the opening scene with the Grinch standing alone outside his cave — looking down at Who-ville far below. And while nervously drumming his fingers, the Grinch puzzles about how to stop Christmas from coming — but he also reflects on those things that he hates most about Christmas. And above all three things stand out: It's the Noise — the Noise, Noise, Noise; and that the Who's would then Feast — Feast and Feast and Feast and Feast; and then worst of all they'd begin to Sing, Sing, Sing, Sing. The opening scene of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" sets a sharp contrast between the Grinch's isolated life, living in a cold dark cave, and the happy and festive people of Who-ville who are warmed by the Spirit of Christmas.

In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah announces that "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined." This passage has long connected to the birth of the Messiah, and the scene is striking for the stark contrast of the bright light of the messiah, set against the backdrop of deep darkness. And perhaps especially, and even uniquely at Christmas there is something about that imagery that resonates at a deep level.

The season itself participates by steadily closing in, decreasing the hours of daylight, making for long winter nights and increasing our experience of Darkness. And then, as we begin to contemplate the Christmas story, we realize that it takes place within the context of world history. Looking beyond the intimacy of the Bible story, focused upon the crèche and the Birth of Jesus, looms the larger political world of Roman authority and the religious establishment, which will soon conspire and attempt to destroy the infant who comes to be seen as the light of the world. In our own day contemplating the world — the conflict in the Middle East and elsewhere —- it is hard not to slip into darker thoughts of despair.

And there is yet, I think, a more powerful current that feeds this well of contrast — between darkness and light. And it is somehow located in the mere anticipation of the feast and celebration of Christmas. For behind our anticipation of a Joyous celebration lies the part of us that considers the aspects of our life that are lonely and isolated; a part of us that reflects upon our shortcomings and failures and sees the brokenness of our existence. There is a way that the coming light of the messiah shines into and exposes those areas of darkness and in moments of reflection makes us acutely aware of the contrast between the salvific light of the crèche and worlds of darkness beyond.

From the outset, we are asked to believe that what the Grinch hated was the noise, the feasts and the singing — the whole festive celebration and that his dream was the complete elimination of Christmas. But the reader soon discovers that the Grinch was not ultimately successful in stopping Christmas from coming. He stole all the presents, the trees and the trimmings, but the communal expression of joy and the abiding hope of the season, which lie at the heart of Christmas could not so easily be taken away. And it would be a mistake, I believe, to concede even that the Grinch got it part right — arguing perhaps that the real Christmas is one stripped of the noise, the feasts and the singings if these things corrupt the true Christmas. Indeed these are the very things that we need to embrace for the full meaning of Christmas to emerge.

Loud and boisterous noise, unrestrained, is usually a sign of glee, joy and carefree abandon — qualities all to be treasured and shared with family and friends. Similarly a festive feast, Christmas dinner, served variously in each of our houses, where sometimes even relatives long lost find a place at the table, speaks of Christian fellowship, inclusion and belonging.

From early times Christians have profoundly understood the importance of table fellowship. The Altar as table is the liturgical focal point for communion, the feeding of God's people; and yet our mission for inclusion calls for us always to move beyond our altar table, and the dinner table of home, and to set a place at the table for those who do not yet have a seat.

Two weeks ago, eight youths from our confirmation class, and five of their adult mentors, gathered to prepare and serve a meal to about 20 people who regularly gather for the feeding program at St. John's Church in Boonton. An interesting and eclectic group from the area assembled, in search (and in need of a warm meal — yes) but just as much, and perhaps even more importantly, in search of fellowship, companionship — in search of a seat at the table, a place to belong. Gathered around two long tables set up in the Parish Hall, it was our parish's privilege, to prepare and host this feast of inclusion and affirmation.

Noise, feasting, and finally singing. Singing which connects so easily to worship, praise and adoration. Singing which builds a beautiful sound upon the contributions of an entire community. It is difficult to find a more compelling scene to convey the sense of community and sharing with others than singers or carolers at Christmas time.

Having stolen all the trappings of Christmas, the Grinch stands atop Mt. Crumpit, isolated from the world below. The magnitude of the Grinch's exclusion from the embrace of the Who's is striking! And, when you stop to think about it, the figure of the Grinch, out there, alone, really speaks to a part of ourselves. It's the part of us that's isolated or excluded; the part that craves love and affirmation without the fear of judgment or rejection. Christmas presents to us each year the scene of God coming to us as a vulnerable infant. The love of God made flesh; the love that calls us together, the love that calls us beyond ourselves; Love's pure light.

Christmas has a magical power over us because it resonates so deeply with our yearnings to belong. It connects to nostalgic memories of childhood; and to our religious yearnings for a pure and holy life — a peace that transcends space and time. Christmas is that sense of belonging, knowing that one is a part of God's redemptive plan; calling us out of isolation and darkness into the Holy mystery of the life and light of Christ.

The Grinch discovered that he had only succeeded in removing the outward symbols of the celebration of Christmas, and that he was ignorant of any deeper meaning. Despite his best efforts to the contrary Christmas came even without the clamor of toys, or an elaborate feast. Christmas came as it always does in the midst of community, a community that dares to hope and dream and to look beyond the darkness. Christmas points us toward inclusion, towards ever expanding the web of community — ever reaching out; even to the likes of a cold, cantankerous and embittered Grinch. For Christmas is God's gift of love that comes with only one string attached; that we share it generously, abundantly — even noisily with one another. It's Christmas — let's sing and enjoy the feast!