The time of waiting and preparing for Christmas is almost over. Homes and churches are celebrating the possibilities of the Christmas message, and people of all ages gather with open-eyed wonder to hear the familiar story.

Other homes and synagogues have recently completed the celebration of Hanukkah, wondering about the miracle of the lamp that kept burning and feeling deep gratitude for the joys of religious freedom.

In this way, we have been reminded of the importance of remaining hopeful and of staying connected to our spiritual roots. Candles and light are integral symbols of both celebrations, illuminating the darkness of human suffering and the shadows around our souls.

On this day we can look reality in the face and, rather than be discouraged about the breadth of darkness that encompasses humanity, we can be surprised by the glimpses of hope that shine through the darkness.

Truly, we are in the midst of an almost magical season of wonder and beauty. The stories are wonderful and the traditions of music and candles and giving and praying for peace are beautiful. As such, it can be a season of surprising hope for each of us.

We can be surprised by a sudden new understanding of an old story or a spiritual truth. We can be surprised by a feeling of goodness and warmth that results from a memory or the presence of family and close friends.

It can take place in the delight we see in someone's face when they are genuinely surprised by a gift. It can happen with the random act of kindness toward the neighbor next door or the houseless person who lives on quite "another street."

We need to keep this element of surprise and wonder in our lives. We need to expect it — anticipate it — look for it.

Of course, there are some surprises we don't look for. We not only don't look for them, but they are very unwelcome when they arrive.

The reason this is a season of depression rather than a season of happiness for so many people is because life brings too many of these other surprises: being surprised and overcome by the memory of a lost loved one; being surprised by the sadness of missing someone who lives far away; not being surprised by yet another season of hunger or loneliness or pain.

We need to be sensitive to this aspect of our community. Our lives are a mixture of both kinds of surprises. When the blend is balanced, we're OK, but when seasoned with too much sadness, we suffer.

Perhaps an analogy between cooking and community could be useful in keeping our surprises in balance.

For instance, in cooking, whether it's coffee, fruit salad, quiche or marinating sauce, the perfect blend depends on the tongue of the taster. Furthermore, the best combination often remains a mystery because the creator won't disclose an essential ingredient.

Determining the perfect community can be equally mystifying. Every person will have a unique list of qualities ranging from pure homogeneity to complex diversity. In a similar way, the wide variety of religious expression, practice and belief could be perceived in two completely different ways; as being very divisive or being incredibly rich with wisdom and inspiration.

While we enjoy the blending of spices in our cooking, our communities don't always mix very well. So, what is the missing ingredient?

The story is told about a 13-year-old boy who looked forward to his visits at his grandmother's home. She was always ready to listen and always had fresh cookies. Once he was comfortably settled in the familiar kitchen, he poured out the story of a horrible day. Everything had gone wrong, from the forgotten homework to the crack in his voice when he said, "Hi, Malia."

His grandmother simply smiled and asked if he'd like a snack. He thought things were finally turning around, but, instead, she offered him some cooking oil. "What?" "Well, how about some flour?" "Yuck!" "Maybe a raw egg?" "Double yuck!"

"Yes," she explained, "all those things seem bad all by themselves, but when you blend them together in the right way, they make a wonderful cookie."

She gave him one as she continued: "God works in the same way. We wouldn't be expected to endure all of the bad things in life if the total result wasn't worth it. We need to see the complete picture."

A good, complete community will have a challenging mixture of people, from sour grapes to good eggs. A good recipe for community will be the right balance of sweet and sour, the seasoning of compassion and respect, the blending of patience and commitment, the acts of kindness and words of acceptance, the honoring and understanding of differences, and the daily practice of honesty, justice and humility.

This is a good list of virtues, but still not the complete blend for a good community. There is still the question of the missing ingredient; there are at least two items missing. First, we need more adults who are models of the finished product and, second, we need to stay connected with our spiritual nature — our faith.

While God, the Creator of the perfectly blended community, hasn't kept these ingredients a secret, we, as the cooks, keep leaving them out. It really is our choice and our responsibility.

So, here we are soon to be near the end of another holiday season. We have many reasons to celebrate with joy and we also have reason to continue praying for a peaceful community and a peaceful world.

Every spiritual tradition lifts up the possibilities of peace.

During this time of year, we can thankfully remember the Christian who serves dinner at a homeless shelter in response to the teaching of Jesus about love, the Jew who lights a Hanukkah candle in gratitude for religious freedom, the Muslim whose fasting is a sign of forgiveness of a friend's indiscretion, and a Buddhist who listens with concern because of the Buddha's teaching about compassion.

In lighting a candle, offering a prayer, feeding the hungry, singing a song, giving some money, and sharing our love, we push the darkness back just a little more.

May these moments of peace expand exponentially — surprising people everywhere — and bring light into the dark, troubled places of the world.

"Peace on earth and good will to all."

The Rev. John R. Heidel is a retired United Church of Christ minister, president of The Interfaith Alliance Hawai'i and a member of Christ Church Uniting Disciples and Presbyterians in Kailua. He wrote this commentary for The Advertiser.