Welcome Advent -- Day One

Beginning on December 1st, we will post a reflection or meditation for each day of Advent. Think of it as an on-line Advent Calendar, helping your mark the days of the Advent season. 

Welcome to Advent, what may be my favorite season of the year. It’s funny, because growing up I wasn’t aware of it at all. The Congregational church I grew up in paid no attention to the liturgical calendar, except for big holidays like Christmas and Easter. My parents, one of whom grew up Methodist and the other Reformed, didn’t seem to know about it either. It was only when I returned to church after many years away, and began attending a different Congregational church, that I suddenly encountered words I never heard before, at least in a Protestant church. Words like Advent, Lent, Epiphany and Pentecost among others.
And now I love them all – with Advent a particular favorite. Unfortunately, I think most in the church would rather ignore it and move right into Christmas. After all, the Christmas decorations have gone up and the carols begin playing on the radio before Advent even begins.
But I love Advent. Instead of merry elves and presents under a tree, it focuses on counter-cultural things like stillness and waiting, preparation and discernment. It’s a time to focus on the inner journey – on getting ready. It’s a time of gestation – waiting and preparing to give birth to new life. And it’s a time of darkness – the darkness of the womb; the darkness of the night sky that makes it possible to see the guiding star.
And perhaps I resonate with Advent most deeply because it reminds me of my own time of waiting to give birth to my daughter. Looking back, it was a time of paradox – there was so much to do to prepare: clean out the spare room to make space for the baby furniture; buy things like baby blankets and little clothes (so cute); learn what to expect, how to change diapers and breathe with the contractions; go to doctor’s visits and ultrasounds, find the right hospital and car seat. A whole check list. But at the same time, at another level, all Steve and I could do was wait – and wait – and wait – for nine months for the baby to be born. Nothing we could do would make that time move any faster.
And when the time finally came to give birth, it wasn’t easy. It was painful, and hard, and messy, and scary. But from those labor pains came this miraculous gift, and three lives (my husbands, my daughter’s and mine) were transformed – made new.
Later I realized that it was during the time of waiting that we prepared inside – prepared our hearts and minds and bodies – for the change that was coming in our lives. If it had happened too soon none of us would have been ready for it. (Not that we felt ready, mind you. Yet it’s amazing, looking back, that in fact we were.) New life means change – and we need to prepare – and make space – for it to happen.
We need to welcome Advent. We may want to just skip right over it – move on to singing Christmas carols and playing with the new baby, but we’re not ready yet. And so we prepare ourselves by doing with expectant joy the tasks of the season – buying presents, putting up decorations, trimming the tree, baking the cookies. But at the same time – we all have to wait, to prepare inside and learn the lessons this time of waiting has to teach us – about patience and perseverance, taking risks and listening to angels; about the difficulty and pain of birth, and the joy of new life.

Prayer:  God who gave birth to all creation, help me to creatively wait in this time of Advent gestation, so that I may be prepared to give birth to the holy in my life and my world – when it is time. Amen.

Why Not Tithe?

Scripture
Bring the full tithe into the storehouse...and thus put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts; see if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you an overflowing blessing. Malachi 3.10

A Word of Hope
Through the course of my ministry I have attended many spiritual retreats, participated in many Bibles studies, and have been a part of countless church meetings. One of the questions often asked, as a “get to know you” activity, is an invitation to share one's favorite passages of scripture. That is a very hard thing for me because there are so many Bible verses that I love. However, if I were to share the one passage of scripture that has changed my life the most it may well be this passage from the book of the prophet Malachi.

I remember the first time I consciously heard this passage. It was shortly after I arrived at the Cathedral of Hope. I was participating in a New Member Class and Bill Eure was teaching the class about stewardship. He quoted the scripture from Malachi and then explained how he had begun practicing tithing and what an impact it had made in his life. The lesson was so genuine, so heart-felt, that I decided to do what Bill had done, to practice tithing.

It is now six years later and I have never regretted that decision. This one passage of scripture, and the practice of it in my daily life, has changed how I feel about money. Now, if I am honest, I often wish I had more money. I frequently have to limit the things I buy. Sometimes I have to postpone the plans to do something for my home or yard. I have to carefully plan for major purchases. Those are the realities of our living, but since beginning the discipline of tithing, I have consciously given away more of my resources than ever before in my life, much more than just ten percent. What I have discovered is that God is true to God’s promises.

I am happier now than I have ever been and while there are many reasons for my happiness, I believe that one of the most important reasons is that I now spend my days in gratitude. I have shifted from being fearful of what I do not have to being grateful for what I do have. I am learning, day by day, week by week to be a generous person. I am learning the deep and profound joy of giving. In short, I have been set free. Money no longer owns me and I am grateful to God for that.

So, why not try it? What do you have to lose? After all, it is God who says, “Test me in this!” Why not try bringing God the full tithe, a full ten percent of your resources, and see what God does. I am convinced that God will do exactly as God promised and will open the windows of heaven and pour out blessings upon you.

Prayer
Holy One, you are so very generous to me. Let me be wholly yours so that I might be a blessing just as you have blessed me. Amen.

Devotion Author
Rev. Dr. Jo Hudson
Rector & Senior Pastor

Remember

As I watch the news this week, I’ve been thinking about the importance memory. Twenty years ago this year, Hurricane Andrew devastated South Florida. My husband Steve and I were living in South Miami at the time. The images of homes destroyed, roofs and walls ripped off – covered in blue tarps, trees down so that a once lush landscape looked barren and dead, and piles of debris two stories high that lasted for nearly a year remain vivid in my memory. A time of darkness in so many ways, that felt like it would never end.

I remember being without power for weeks. The sound of generators going off and on throughout the night, making it difficult to sleep. Being stuck because of trees blocking the road. Eating canned food. Sweating in the August heat. Listening to the radio, the voice of local TV weatherman Brian Norcross being simulcast – the only station that remained up for the whole event. His voice a lifeline as the wind howled, and the darkness was all around.

When another major storm – like Katrina, or now Sandy – happens. Those memories come rushing back in. Watching the coverage of Sandy, Brian Norcross (who now does hurricane coverage nationally) was on the TV. Steve came in from another room, saying, “that’s Brian Norcross.” He remembers too.

Hurricane Andrew 1992

Hurricane Sandy 2012

Memories connect us. Our memories of riding out the storm and it’s aftermath connect Steve and me, and others who lived in South Florida at that time. My memory of what happened in that storm also connects me now to those affected by Sandy – another community experiencing the same kind of darkness. My memories give my prayers special intensity, as I pray for them those in the Northeast – for their safety and healing, but also for the blessings that can be found in the midst of such difficulty: the fellowship of neighbors, generosity and courage of strangers, the sense of a community pulling together, small comforts that make a huge difference like water to bathe in or a good meal, and the sight of a billion stars in the night – visible for once without city lights filling the sky, and the incandescent joy and gratitude when an electrical company truck (sometimes from a community many states away) is finally seen in your neighborhood and power is restored.

Memories remind us what really matters – and to be thankful for all our blessings, no matter how small, as we remember a time when there was no blessing too small to make a difference.

Memories also give us hope. It took time, more time than we would ever have imagined, and taught us patience we didn’t think we had. It took lots of work and support that came in many ways, but South Florida survived and rebuilt – though it has been forever changed by the experience. In another community devastated by such a story, the process has been slow, but New Orleans has come back in many ways – though there is still much to be done. I know that the Northeast will recover and rebuild as well. In our faith we call that resurrection.

Memory matters. When we celebrate communion – it is a meal of remembrance. “Do this in remembrance of me,” Jesus said. Because memory connects us. We remember that through a time of great tragedy and loss, a time of pain and death, a community huddled together in the dark, but Jesus came to them in their darkness and brought them out into the light.

As we go through the liturgical year, tracing the story of the life of Jesus and his followers – Advent waiting, the joy of birth at Christmas, the surprise and revelation of Epiphany, the expectation of Palm Sunday, the coming together of community on Maundy Thursday, the despair and death of Good Friday, the emptiness and loss of Holy Saturday, the wonder of resurrection on Easter, the sense of empowerment on Pentecost – as a community we relive that cycle that is life and we remember. We remember that resurrection happens. Death, destruction, despair are a part of life – but they do not have the last word. And through this reliving of the life and story of Jesus Christ, we remember that even though homes may be destroyed, our true home is in God, through whom all things are possible – even resurrection.

Memory connects us. It spurs us to be the hearts of compassion, the hands of support and healing, and the voices of hope to others sitting in the darkness. It is a hallmark of the life of faith.

When we forget, or lose the ability to remember -- it is a tragedy even worse than any storm. It is devastating to individuals and families dealing with Alzheimers or similar disorders. It is equally devastating to communities. Where now is the sense of common purpose, connection, and strength we were blessed with in the dark aftermath of 9/11?

But God can redeem even the loss of memory. There are blessings, and moments of grace always -- if we have the eyes to see them. And perhaps Sandy, tragic as it is, may bring with it the blessing of rekindled memory, an antidote for the spiritual Alzheimers that has gripped our nation for too long.

God of life, new life, and beginning again – we thank you for your Spirit at work in those who bless others with their courage, their compassion, and their support in times of trouble. We thank you too for the signs of hope, the voices in the darkness, the small blessings, that we hold onto until the lights come back on and we can see again. And we thank you for memory, that connects us, across space and time, to each other, and to You. Amen.