All the People

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Christmas Angels -- Day 25

Have you noticed?

In the Bible stories,
Angels are never still.
Going up and down ladders to heaven,
Wrestling with Jacob until dawn,
Popping in for a bite at Abraham’s tent,
Bringing food for Elijah in the desert,
Then disappearing again.

There are lots of angels,
In the Gospel stories
About Jesus’ birth.
An angel appeared to the priest,
Zechariah,
Told him he would have a son.
And then the angel left –
Leaving Zechariah speech-less –
For nine months.

An angel appeared to Mary
And told her she would bear a son.
And then the angel left –
Leaving an unwed teenage girl
To face her family and community.

An angel appeared to Joseph too,
In a dream,
And told him not to disown Mary.
And then the angel left,
Leaving Joseph in a strange new world.
And then the shepherds.
There they were,
Minding their own business,
Living in the fields,
Keeping watch over their flock by night.
An angel visited them as well,
Only this time, he brought his friends,
So a whole host of angels filled the night sky
With angelic light and heavenly song.
And then they left –
The sky once again was black,
The only sounds the bleating of the sheep,
And gentle rustle of wind in the trees.
Everything back to normal, and yet
everything had changed.

Angels always leave,
Don’t they?
They come,
Uninvited, unexpected,
Sometimes unwelcome,
Bursting into our world
Interrupting the comfortable
Ebb and flow of our lives
with their supposedly Good News.
They always say, “Do not be afraid,”
Knowing that, of course, we are.
After all,
For just a moment,
we catch a glimpse
of the holy, the divine,
of something beyond ourselves
beyond the ordinary
beyond what we can explain
with graphs or charts
or even words.

Angels come,
But then they seem to leave,
The heavenly light is gone,
Along with the angel choir.

It’s like Christmas,
You know?
There’s the wonder of Christmas Eve,
And the joy of Christmas Day,
But then it’s over.
The lights and decorations come down,
Family goes back home,
And sometimes it seems that all that remains
Are mounds of wrapping paper,
Left-overs in the fridge,
And presents that need to be exchanged for
A better size.

Whatever magic made Christmas feel special
Is gone, vanished
And it’s back to our ordinary lives,
In our ordinary world.
Back to
What some would call reality,
Where there’s no place
For angels.

It seems like
Angels always leave,
Or do they?

Perhaps it’s just that
Without the Christmas music
in the background
we don’t notice,
we don’t see
the angels we meet every day,
on the bus,
and in the grocery store,
and walking down the street.
I saw one yesterday in a Santa suit.

Some are helpers, care takers,
Or Guardians,
Like the angels in a small Connecticut town,
Who protected children, and
Helped deal with the aftermath of tragedy.
Others are harder to recognize at first
And sometimes,
it takes a while to understand
why the angel’s message
is such Good News.
Like the funky angel on my office wall,
That says,
“Most people don’t know
that there are angels
whose only job
is to make sure
that you don’t get too comfortable,
and fall asleep,
and miss your life.”

It seems to me
That the angels
in the Gospel
Stories of Jesus’ birth
Are more like those.
And after they appeared,
Nothing was the same,
For Zechariah, for Mary,
For Joseph, for the shepherds.

So, maybe what’s important
Isn’t whether angels leave,
But what we do after.
After we’ve heard the Good News,
After we’ve caught a glimpse
of something special,
something holy,
something beyond ourselves.

Do we go back to business as usual?
Pretend we never heard the angel choir?
After all, there are sheep to tend,
And appearances to maintain.
Do we put it all away
with the Christmas decorations,
until next year?

Or do we realize that
now
it’s up to us
to find a way to live
in an altered reality,
One with angels.

This year,
Will we let the angels’ song transform us?
Send us searching
For where Christ is being born
In our world?
Let the good news change
The way we look at our lives,
How we behave,
Who we are,
How we understand reality,
And what is possible – with God?

Will we let the glimpse of the holy
We get this Christmas,
However brief,
Open our eyes to look
For the angels all around us,
On the move, but never far away,
Until one day,
We look in the mirror,
And realize that one of them,
Is us.
Merry Christmas.
Amen.

Day 24 - Season of Advent

I will sing of your steadfast love, O Lord, forever;

With my mouth I will proclaim your faithfullness to all generations.

I declare that your steadfast love is established forever;

Your faithfulness is as firm as the heavens.

Psalm 89:1-2

 

Divine faithfulness is at the core of our witness.  By our words, but most of all by our lives, we are to reveal God's faithfulness to the world.  The world is not interested in faithfulness, because faithfulness does not help in the acquisition of success, popularity and power.  But when Jesus call us to love one another as he has loved us, he calls us to faithful relationships, not based on the pragmatic concerns of the world, but on the knowledge of God's everlasting love.

Faithfulness, obviously, does not mean sticking it out together to the bitter end.  That is no reflection of God's love. Faithfulness means that every decision we make in our lives together is guided by the deep awareness that we are called to be living signs of God's faithful presence among us.  And this requires an attentiveness to one another that goes beyond any formal obligation.   

-          Henri J.M. Nouwen

 

 

Wishing all a Merry Christmas as we begin a new year as a community that lives out God's faithfulness.

No Room? -- Day 23

And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. (Luke 2:7)

No room. No place. Nowhere the holy family could fit, could squeeze themselves in. There was already too much, too many. No room for just one more – even one as small as a baby.

It’s so easy for our inns to become overcrowded. Career. Family. Social obligations. Doctor appointments. Housework. Financial obligations. Next thing you know you look at your calendar and see all the little squares are filled in – there’s no room. No room for one more thing. Even if that one is Our Savior.

When my daughter was younger we had a ritual – before her birthday each year she needed to go through all the stuff in her room and take out what she didn’t need, what she was willing to let go of, what could be given away – to make room for the new gifts she would receive for her birthday.

Our spiritual lives are much the same. Every year we celebrate a birthday – the birthday of Jesus – and the gift we are offered is Jesus himself – and all that comes with him: hope, joy, peace, comfort, new life. And if we receive those gifts, Jesus is born in us and we are made new – Christmas becomes our birthday too.

But will there be room in our lives and in our hearts for the gifts Jesus brings? What can we let go of, what don’t we need, what burdens can be given away – so we have space for the new? Advent is the time, in the words of the familiar carol, to “let every heart, prepare him room.”

When the holy comes knocking, will there be a place in your inn? 

FYI, You're Pregnant -- Day 21

Every miracle of God is conceived in the heart of the believer, grows in conviction and clarity, and then is delivered through a committed action.  --Rev. Mike Slaughter

At Harvard and most other divinity schools and seminaries, you hear a lot of big words thrown around that mean nothing to the outside world.  I remember that my first semester at Harvard, I brought my laptop to every class, not because I couldn't take notes by hand, but because I wanted dictionary.com open and ready for the barrage of words that I would hear and need to secretly look up.  I was terrified that someone was going to ask me what my soteriology was, and what hermeneutic I used to come to that conclusion Biblically... and I would just blankly stare at them, thereby revealing myself for who I really was: an average gal who somehow squeaked into Harvard.

Though I certainly didn't have the best vocabulary at Harvard, I have always loved words and names nonetheless.  I'm a big fan the NPR show, A Way With Words, which is a playful discussion of idioms and etymology. I relish hearing stories of etymology, learning the history of words and the interesting stories about from where they come.  And I admit it; I used to peruse the dictionary as a kid... for fun!  (Geek!!!)

Of all the obscure words and jargon I learned at Harvard, my very favorite word, however, would have to be theotokos.  If you know any Greek, you might be able to guess what theotokos means.  "Theo" means "God" in Greek, and gives us words such as theology, theophany, atheist, theocracy, and and theodicy.  "Tokos" means to bear, bring forth, or to give birth.  So theotokos means literally, God-bearer.  And who from our Christmas story was God-bearer, the one who bore God and gave birth to him?  Mary.  So the Greek Orthodox for centuries have used the word "theotokos" to speak of Mary, to honor her as the miraculous human God-bearer in the Advent story.

But what I love about theotokos is the second layer of meaning.  Mary was the original theotokos, but who is theotokos today?  Who is bearing God within them and giving birth to Christ in our world here and now?  We all are.  You are theotokos.  You are the womb of the living God.  You are carrying Christ inside you.  It is your joyful responsibility to bring Christ forth into this world.

So when you hear this Christmas story this year -- no matter if you're a man or a woman -- hear it in a new way in the light of this new word, theotokos.

Perhaps when Mary's story is read on Christmas Even, you might think,
"That's me.
Like Mary, I too have been visited by God.
Like Mary, I too am fearful at first
yet joyful at the blessed responsibility put upon me,
the privilege of bringing Christ into this world.
Like Mary, I too am on a long journey,
and the job I face won't always be easy,
but it will bring light to the world.
Like Mary, I too carry the sacred Christ child within me.
Like Mary, I am theotokos."

"Bet You Never Looked at it That Way" -- Day 20

     

     If you have ever been to Branson you most likely went to see the Russian comedian, Yakov Smirnoff.  He tells a lot of stories about his impression of America when he arrived here with his parents.  Those stories are always followed with, "Bet you never looked at it that way."

     I never looked at the birth of Jesus the way Mike Slaughter describes it.  He reminded me that it was not the clean, sweet smelling scene I like to imagine.  A cleaning crew did not go through there getting things ready for the most important event ever. The Christ Child was not wrapped in a soft receiving blanket from Kids R Us.  He didn't have that baby smell of Johnson's Baby powder.  (Have you ever been west of Lubbock?) The music in the air was probably mooing and bleating and other sounds of creatures confused by the unexpected activity in their stable. (I happen to find the sounds of cows eating and mooing very peaceful, the buzzing flies, not so much!)  We all know those flies spread germs along with their annoying habit of dive bombing you in the face. What about the smell, the scratchy hay?  Would there have been clean, fresh smelling hay?

"Bet you never looked at it that way."

     I don't want to look at it that way.  I like my peaceful picture.  So, now I am trying to put the pictures together.  I know I can see the peace, feel the warmth, ignore the flies, almost like the smell, (well, maybe that is stretching it!".  Mary is still holding that Baby and Promise is there reigning above it all.  Mary and Joseph could make do with what they had and create a beautiful blessed scene.  Now it is my turn to make do with what I have and create my peaceful, thankful scene.  I guess I "never looked at it that way".

"Emanuel, God with us."

Submitted by Nancy Blatchley

Day 19 - Season of Advent

We look for simple answers. 

They don’t exist.

Nothing is simple - because everything is connected. 

We like to think we are independent.

We are not.

We like to think that we are in control.

We are not.

We like to think that what we do matters.

Ah!  It does. 
We were created with freedom not because we are independent but for the very opposite – because we are all dependent and what each of us does affects all of us.

 

This is why, two thousand years ago, one was born,

one whose birth, life, and death were the perfect incarnation of a perfect love.

Ripples in the fabric of humanity. 

 

Exercise your freedom.

Open yourself to God’s transforming love.

 

Although we may wait,

in this Season of Advent,
to celebrate;
Do not wait, my friends,
to embrace God’s love in your life.
It matters.  And you matter.

Day 18 -- An Advent Poem

Newtown Candles

Shots ring out o'er Bethlehem this Advent night.
Passover the stable with the bleating baby boy,
Passover the grassy knolls of dreamy sheep outside town,
Passover the red doorposts of wise men,
Passover darkened shopping malls and silent campuses,
Passover scattered crayons and dropped phonics books,
Passover empty stockings and empty hearts,
Passover Calvary itself.

I thought,
I thought after we hung Him on the tree,
I thought surely
We'd rise up and say, "Enough as enough!
Look where all this has gotten us!
We've shot down Love itself
And sentenced to death our only God.
Never Again!
never again."

I thought it,
But yet
we still wait.

Still we wait
outside Bethlehem,
under angel stars moaning,
"O come, o come Emmanuel."

It's Not Your Birthday -- Day 17

A friend of mine from my mom's group told me that she was reading a book this holiday season with her bible study group about Christmas that had ruffled a few feathers.  Now I haven't read the book, but I keep thinking about the title, "Christmas Is Not Your Birthday."   She said that a few of the people in her group found the author, Mike Slaughter, a bit offensive.  Now granted, the title is not the most loving statement you could make about Christmas, but it's provocative nonetheless.  And I can't get it out of my head.  Christmas....  It's not your birthday.

I have a memory from my teen years that I still cringe when I think about it.  Like many teenage girls, I wasn't always sugar and spice and everything nice.  So I can't even remember what exactly it was that I wanted that Christmas, but regardless, when I didn't find it under the tree, I think it was obvious to my mother that I wasn't particularly filled with the Christmas spirit that morning.  In any case, my sweet mother asked me whatever was the matter, and I think I had enough sense to know that I was being ungrateful, so I just gave the classic teenage response, "nothing Mooooooom!"

Looking back now, I wan't to yell at myself, "IT'S NOT YOUR BIRTHDAY, ANNA!"  But of course I can't.  But I do have empathy for my teenage self because I can see where a lot of kids -- and even adults -- still may get confused.  You see as children we were showered with gifts twice a year: on our birthdays and on Christmas day.  And so how can you tell me on one level that both days are about all my wildest material dreams coming true, but that at the same time, one of the days (Christmas), really isn't about me at all, but about Jesus?  It doesn't really compute.

Tres Reyos Parade in Peurto Rico

That's why I've always loved the tradition practiced in Latin American of giving gifts not on Christmas Day, but on the eve of Epiphany, also called 12th night or 3 Kings Day.  Epiphany is the conclusion of the 12 days of Christmas (or Christmastide), usually falling on the 6th of January.  This is the day that the church celebrates the Biblical Magi coming to bring gifts to the Christ child, marking the first revelation that the baby in the manger was truly God's son.  Because Epiphany is the day we remember gifts being brought to the baby Jesus, it just makes sense that on this day, not on Christmas day, people would exchange gifts just as the magi did.  And I love the idea of waiting 12 more days to exchange gifts because it leaves Christmas to be what it's actually about: the birth of Christ, and it leaves Epiphany to be what it's actually about: the magi giving gifts to honor Jesus.  I also love it because it restores the great old tradition of Christmas being 12 days of celebration (this makes the Christmas carol, the 12 Days of Christmas suddenly make sense).   Traditionally, the time before Christmas was about Advent waiting and watching, and then when Christmas finally came, you had 12 long days to celebrate with Christmas carols, parties, gifts, and merriment.  (Honestly, I would happily trade the system we have now, where it seems like we're celebrating Christmas for two full months, for a system where you celebrate it for a solid 12 days instead.  Call me Scrooge, but if I hear the song "Baby It's Cold Outside" one more time, I might spontaneously combust.)

But as much as I love the tradition of 12th night, I wonder, how could I ever do something so counter-cultural here and now?  Wait until January 6th to exchange gifts?  Anathema!!!! Most people have already torn down their Christmas decorations by then!  And what on earth would become of the beloved Christmas morning that I have such wonderful memories of as a kid -- when I ran down the stairs to see if Santa had come?  I want that for my son.

So as much as I love the idea of 12th Night or 3 Kings Day, I can't bring myself to do it -- I don't really know how I would do it.  Yet I still recognize the old tradition's loveliness.  Quite clearly it says: "Christmas.  It's not your birthday.  It's Jesus' birthday.  His birthday is so big and so miraculous that you need to keep partying and celebrating for 12 days, and then... and only then, once He's been fully glorified, it's your turn."


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I Need a Little Christmas -- Day 16

I’ve been sick since Friday, in more ways than one. After some hints Thursday night, I woke up to a bad head cold, the first I’ve had for a long time. There was no warning about the other thing that would make me ill, I learned about that from the media reporting from Newtown, Connecticut. New-town, such an innocuous name for horror.

This morning, Sunday, I woke up still sick in body, as well as in heart, despite my predictions that I would be “just fine.” Ok, I had a low grade fever, but I figured I could still make it to church. After all, it was Christmas Music Sunday in our church, I didn’t have to preach – a good thing as my voice would not have held up. All I had to do was sit and listen to music, and say some prayers. I thought about calling in sick, but I didn’t. 

When I got to church, folks could tell I wasn’t myself. “Why didn’t you stay home,” I was asked. I couldn’t really say, I didn’t know. Just going on autopilot I guess. I didn’t really think it was an overdeveloped sense of responsibility – though I have that. It wasn’t that I didn’t think others could handle it in my place – I knew they could. I knew I had the choice, and that it would probably be better if I stayed in bed. But I didn’t – and I wasn’t sure why.

Until part way through the service and the choir sang an arrangement of “In the Bleak Midwinter."

In the bleak midwinter,

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone.

Snow had fallen snow on snow,

Snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter long ago.

Our God, Heav’n cannot hold Him

Nor earth sustain.

Heav’n and earth shall flee away,

When he comes to rein.

In the bleak midwinter,

A stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

.  .  .

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd

I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man,

I would do my part.

Yet what can I give him

Give my heart, give, give my heart.

I thought about the midwinter winds blowing through our country since Friday. I thought about homes where children or parents wouldn't be coming home for Christmas. I thought about frozen earth and the chill of ice that no fire seems to warm. I thought about death -- in this time when we we should be celebrating new life -- how it seemed out of place in the Christmas season, in the safety of an elementary school, in the peace of small Newtown.

I came to church because I was sick – sick at heart. I was there because I needed to be there – because of Newtown.  I needed to be held close in the body of Christ. I needed to hear the promises of our faith – that death does not get the final word, that new life comes to us, even “in the bleak midwinters” of our lives. I needed to feel the presence of our God who understands our pain – who cries when we cry, who feels the chill in our souls – and to remember that we know this because our God was once incarnated in another small child. I needed to stand with his mother who would see her child cut down too soon, too soon. I needed to lift up my thanks in that Spirit-filled place for the life of my own child. I needed to light a candle in the darkness. 

            I was there because I needed "a little Christmas, right this very minute" (thanks Mame).  And if I couldn't sing "Joy to the World" with everyone else, I could look forward to the time when I would.

            I was in worship today because I needed to go to see the Christ child, and to offer Him my heart, and my heartache. Merry Christmas – a few days early. We need it now more than ever.

Spirit of Advent - Day 15

Tis thee, abstractly thee, God of uncreated Beauty, that I love, in thee my wishes are all terminated; in thee, as in their blissful centre, all my desires meet . . . The God of nature, and the original of all beauty, is my God.

 --  Puritan poet Elizabeth Rowe, Devout Exercises of the Heart (1796)[1]

     Reformed, Celtic, and Benedictine traditions have historically emphasized that the praise of God's beauty is the chief end of creation.  Each of these traditions have, in their own way, emphasized that the attempt to understand God – insufficient as that may be – begins and ends with praise.  It begins and ends with doxology – which is derived from the Greek "doxa" (meaning "glory") and "logia" (meaning "saying") – a glory saying.  All flows from an understanding of God's astounding beauty.  As Belden Lane puts it, "Everything else flows from this.  Action for social justice, for example, is simply the form that praise must assume in the marketplace and other corridors of power."

     The Reformer John Calvin wrote that "the stability of the world depends on the rejoicing of God in his works."  God sustains the world by rejoicing in the world.  Lane suggests that "The role of human beings is to lead the rest of creation in praising the one for whom they all yearn, yet know they cannot possess. . . . The Psalmist urges believers to contribute to the rejoicing that maintains the universe, Calvin said, 'because the end for which we are created is that the divine name may be celebrated by us on earth.'"  Calvin wrote that "If on earth such praise of God does not come to pass . . . then the whole order of nature will be thrown into confusion and creation will be annihilated."  And yet, it is God's rejoicing in creation that makes possible and elicits from us our own rejoicing in God. 

     So let us celebrate!  Let us praise God!  In this Season of Advent we celebrate God's continuing creation of the world, we celebrate God's participation in the world in the one born in a manger, we celebrate that the Spirit of the Lord upholds us and every part of creation. 

Joy to the world, the Savior reigns; let earth her songs employ; let fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains, repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy, repeat, repeat the sounding joy!

 

---

[1] Quoted in Belden C. Lane, Ravished by Beauty: The Surprising Legacy of Reformed Spirituality.  Oxford University Press, 2011, 17.

Holy Journeys -- Day 14

     There is a journeying or travelling that runs through the scripture accounts of the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. We’ve got Mary journeying to visit and stay with her cousin Elizabeth when both are pregnant, then going back home. Mary and Joseph then travel to Bethlehem for the census, then after the birth they flee to Egypt. The shepherds travel from their fields to Bethlehem to see the baby. And, of course, the magi travel a great distance, following the star, then return home by a different road. That’s a lot of movement associated with this event.

            I think that’s appropriate, because the new life being born in the world, and in us, requires that we move out of our comfort zones -- as a baby must move out of the womb. The journey required of us may be geographical, or it may be internal – a journey of the soul. But move we must – if only to loosen up the places within ourselves that have become frozen, stiff or stuck. And when we make the journey, we may find something we did not expect at all -- like a newborn king in a humble manger.

            Most of these journeys enable connection, or reconnection. The cousins meet again and find they have something else in common. And with the shepherds and the magi: Those who began as strangers to each other meet and become part of each other’s life story. And those connections show that the light that is the baby Jesus shines through all their lives. 

            These are holy journeys – getting a new perspective, seeking out the unexpected, following promptings of the Spirit, connecting and reconnecting, forging new bonds, giving life to new relationships, coming closer to the divine.

            During the Christmas holidays, many of us will make holy journeys. We will travel to visit family and friends, we will cross new thresholds, we will seek to come closer to Jesus. What holy journeys, or pilgrimages, have you made in your life? What holy journey – geographical or internal – will you make this Christmas?

            Matt Harding has made holy journeys of his own – all over the globe – and got people to move – to dance. And in the process he created an amazing image of our connectedness -- of the light the shines through us all. According to his website:  "Matt thinks travel is important. It helps us learn what we're capable of, that the path laid in front of us isn't the only one we can choose, and that we don't need to be so afraid of each other all the time." A Holy Journey indeed. Listen to the words of the chorus to video’s song: “We’re going to trip the light, we’re going to break the night, and we’ll see with new eyes, when we trip the light.” The phrase "trip the light" may refer to "tripping the light fantastic" -- that is, dancing -- but I think it also means another kind of light, that we all share as part of God's creation.
      Here is the video. I've watched it many times. May it's infectious joy infuse your heart in this Advent season.

Day 13 -- Waiting

Meditation is a form of prayer that has never come very naturally to me, and I don't think it comes naturally to most people.  I would define meditative prayer as training yourself to be attentive and open to the Holy Spirit in the present moment.  The key word here is "training."  Because meditative prayer is practice, because it is training, very few of us begin the practice feeling we're already good at it, and so many quickly drop it in frustration.  I was the same way.

When I was in divinity school, many of my classmates, particularly those who where Buddhist, described over and over again how mindfulness meditation or meditative prayer had completely transformed their lives.  Curious about this mountain of testimonies, I tried to take it up yet again, but this time I stuck at it a bit longer and gave it a bit more of a chance.  Now I won't tell you that I'm an exemplary meditation practitioner; my practice with meditative mindfulness prayer is sporadic at best, but from what little I have managed to squeeze into my life, I've caught glimpses of its transformative effects, and I know what my classmates described is absolutely true.  Meditative prayer and mindfulness absolutely have the power to transform your very way of being in the world.  In fact, modern science has found this ancient practice is so transformative to people's overall happiness, that among mainstream psychologists and mental health professionals today, mindfulness meditation is commonly taught to patients as an effective treatment to combat depression.

There are many metaphors that people use to describe how people approach mindfulness meditation and prayer.  The most common one is the metaphor of the sky; you are to observe your thoughts and feelings in a curious and nonjudgemental way as if they were clouds floating across the sky of your mind.  Some days when you meditate your sky will be cloudier than others, some days it might even rain, but eventually, by simply acknowledging your thoughts and feelings with compassion but without engaging in them or entertaining them -- by simply letting them float on by, you will begin to find that the sky of your mind has less and less clouds and storms, and that you are left to simply enjoy the holiness and beauty of the present moment without being bogged down by the chatter of your mind.  

The sky metaphor has been useful to me, but a metaphor I personally use to describe how I feel when I'm practicing mindfulness prayer is that of waiting.  Waiting is also a key metaphor for Advent as we wait for the birth of Christ.  Let me explain: imagine yourself sitting on a bench on a train platform.  You've been waiting for the train to arrive for some time.  Suddenly, you think you might have heard a tiny noise in the distance.  In that moment, your ears perk up, all your thoughts about your to-do list and family drama stop, and your mind suddenly tunes itself to the present moment.  You are fully mindful and attentive the sights and sounds around you on the platform.  It is in these moments of attentive waiting that I feel most mindful, most grounded in the present moment;  I'm not ruminating on the hurts of the past or worrying about the troubles of tomorrow, but my eyes and ears are open and ready for whatever God is sending my way.

When someone says "waiting," negative connotations of standing in a long line immediately pop into my mind.  Waiting, however, can be a very spiritual, mindful, and rewarding practice.  When we tune our spirits to waiting and watching for Christ, our worries and hurts seem to melt away.  They don't matter any more.  All that matters is opening ourselves up and readying ourselves to the gifts that God is sending at any moment.  It is in these moments, that life isn't just passing us by, but that we are truly living it, and experiencing it's full holiness. It is in these mindful moments we can hear the insight of the Holy Spirit because we have managed to hush incessant chatter of our minds.  Prayer doesn't have to be just about God listening to you rattle off the Our Father and recite your wish list; prayer can also be about waiting for God to speak into your ear.  So take some time this Advent -- take some time today -- to just sit, wait and watch for Christ.

For more about mindfulness and explanation of this map, visit http://www.mindmapinspiration.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/Mindfulness-MindMap.jpg

Spirit of Advent - Day 12

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him.  And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.  The had been saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?"  When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.                                                              Mark:16:1-4

It is Advent.  Advent, the season of waiting and preparing for the birth of Jesus.  We get all wrapped up in this season in the birth story.  Births are exciting and full of expectation.  Who doesn't enjoy the sight of a newborn child; innocent, gurgling, lovingly fun to watch as they learn every day something new.  There is, indeed, cause for joy and celebration! 

But the story of the birth of Jesus is a different type of birth story.  It is a story of God constantly rolling away stones for us. 

God is always present and we constantly place stones between us.  God acts to patiently roll them away so that we can feel the light of God, know the love of God, live in the kingdom of God.  In this Season of Advent, we celebrate God coming, in the birth of Jesus, to share the life we live.  If we want to imagine that God is distant; in Jesus that stone has been rolled back.  If we want to imagine that God does not understand us; in Jesus that stone has been rolled back.  If we want to imagine that God does not care for us; in Jesus that stone has been rolled back.  God so loved the world that God came to us in a stable, as a helpless child, at the mercy of God's creatures.  And when God's creatures turned against Emmanuel, God with us, God again rolled away the stone that we might know that nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of God.  God will always make a way.

So in this Season of Advent, we anticipate the birth of an old story, told in a new way. 

Joy to the world, indeed.

Blue Christmas -- Day 11

Advent
by Stephen Leake

Somewhere your star-struck choir sings
As the evening unpeels our histories.
The world is here again!

I feel the breathing of yuletide fires,
The ribboned refrains of seasoned candles
And bars of voices beyond St. Stephen’s Wall.

The robin appears in a globe of joy
His carol negotiating wreaths of cloud
And tinsled cakes of snow.

We wing into the holy day
While the blinking eye of the gifting moon
Receives you at that vanishing point

On memory’s path:
Outlived by love
Alone.


Last week, I wrote a blog on the spirit of Advent.  The mood of Advent can be hard to grasp in a season that is often Santa-saturated, but my time living through the cold dark winters in Boston helped me to grasp the mood a bit better.  You see, way up North, around this time of year, it starts getting dark at around 3pm every day, and it's bitterly cold.  Yet at the same time, that cold and darkness brings people together; people come home earlier, stay inside with their families more, linger a little longer around the dinner table or fire, and cuddle up on the sofa with a blanket and a dog a bit more often.  Advent is about light and warmth coming into that dark and cold environment -- about Jesus Christ coming into a world that can be as bitter as a New England winter.

Every year, I have had the privilege of being involved in our church's powerful Blue Christmas service.  We advertise that this service is an intimate service for people who are experiencing grief or loss during the holidays, but honestly, who doesn't carry some story of grief or loss in their heart during this season of good cheer?  I venture to say that none of us will celebrate Christmas with every single one of our loved ones alive, well, and near, and with not a single pang of sadness upon our heart.  The liturgical color in the Church the world over for Advent is deep blue.  Blue -- the color of the night sky where the Christmas star blazed bright above the manger, a celestial image that is the same time about darkness and light, loneliness and wonder.  And it is not just that deep blue color that makes the Blue Christmas service a most fitting representation of Advent.  This service truly brings light to people who are walking in darkness by providing a safe place to cry and a true word of hope.  This service brings warmth to those who feel shut out in the cold as we literally wrap people in the warm prayer shawls that were lovingly made for them by our prayer shawl group.  It is the very picture of Advent, the very picture of Christ entering into the broken places in our world, being born out of our love.

We all walk through this season in deep blue -- some of us are just deeper in it than others -- yet we look to Jesus Christ as our true light and our hope.  I hope you will join us Monday December 17th at 7pm to experience the powerful beauty and comfort of Blue Christmas.

Questions to Angels -- Day 10

One of my most closely held beliefs is that we meet God in the questions. But two stories in the Gospel of Luke of the events leading up to the birth of Jesus suggest that not all questions are equal. When the angel Gabriel visited Mary and told her she would miraculously conceive, she asked “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” And Gabriel patiently explained. {Luke 1:26-38). 

But just a few verses earlier, when Gabriel visited Zechariah to tell him his wife Elizabeth would also conceive, miraculous because Zecharia and Elizabeth were both old, he also asked a question, but got a very different response.

Zechariah asked “How will i know that this is so? For I am an old man and my wife is getting on in years.” – and Gabriel made it so Zechariah would not be able to speak, literally, until the child was born, because Zechariah did not believe Gabriel’s words of good news. (Luke 1:5-25).

I’ve been wrestling with this text, trying to understand why these two questions were treated so differently in Luke’s Gospel. So I put them side by side: "How can this be?" vs. "How will I know?" Both express doubt, both point to biological facts that would seem to stand in the way of conception (Mary’s virginity and Zechariah’s and Elizabeth’s age).

First, it seems as if Mary’s question expresses doubt, but also wonder. Her question and doubt are an expression of faith. She asks not whether God can make this happen, but how God will make this happen. Her focus is on God.

Zechariah’s question, on the other hand, focusses in another direction. He asks not for explanation but certainty; he wants to be sure – he wants to know not how God will make this happen, but how he, Zechariah, will know that this is really good news. He does not trust that God can or will do this miracle. Zechariah’s question is not about God, it’s about himself.

The young girl Mary shows a spiritual maturity that the senior attendant in the Temple, Zechariah, does not.

Perhaps this is why Zechariah is blessed (not cursed) with silence by the angel. Because he cannot speak, Zechariah must listen. For nine months. In that time, he would not be the center of attention. And in that time he matures spiritually, so that when his son John is born, like Mary he sings praise to God and what God is doing in the world. Zechariah has learned that it’s not all about him – it’s about God, and he is filled with joy. (Luke 1:67-79) A blessing indeed.
We hear good news all the time, from various "angels" we meet. But our culture seems to predispose us to ignore them. We distrust angels, and doubt good news. But maybe, if we slow down this Advent, and take time to listen, we can hear that good news afresh -- and let it fill us with wonder, and keep us focussed on what really matters.

Prayer: God of mercy and miracles, help us to hear the good news brought to us by the angels we meet everyday, and to respond in wonder and faith. Amen.

I Love This Solitude -- Day 9

     "My chief joy is to escape to the attic of the garden house and the little broken window that looks out over the valley.  There in the silence I love the green grass.  The tortured gestures of the apple trees have become part of my prayer.  I look at the shining water under the willows and listen to the sweet songs of the living things that are in our woods and fields.  So much do I love this solitude that when I walk out along the road to the old barns that stand alone, far from the new buildings, delight begins to overpower me from head to foot and peace smiles even in the marrow of my bones."                                                                                                    -- Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas

    There are so many places or pictures that capture my attention and invite me to just be alone with God.  I love this photo taken at the Arboretum because there are no  distractions.  My mind can't drift away in color or scenery.  I can't go far from here past the windows so I can just be in the quiet Presence of God.

Submitted by Nancy Blatchley

Spiritual Friendship -- Day 8

            After the angel visited Mary, she hurried to see her cousin Elizabeth. She didn’t know Elizabeth was also miraculously pregnant; she just needed to share this amazing thing that had happened to her. And Elizabeth listened, not only to Mary, but to the babe who leapt for joy in her own womb. (Luke 1:39-56)

            This story is a wonderful model of spiritual friendship. We all need people with whom we can share the experience of journeying with God. Telling our stories and listening to others’ stories not only helps to connect us to each other and to God, but helps us to better understand how the Spirit is working in our lives and our world.

            I have a spiritual friendship circle. We talk on the phone every other week and share what we are thinking about, what experiences we have had, encourage each other, support each other, challenge each other, and most importantly listen – to each other and to the still, small voice deep inside us. And in the process, we help each other see the signs and blessings we may have missed along the way.

            During Advent, my group has committed to praying everyday, “Lord, give me grace.” Then each day we write what moments of grace, blessing, or connection we had during that day. It’s our way to mark this time of Advent waiting. I was reminded recently of a quote from Rumi, “Patience is not sitting and waiting. It is foreseeing. It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose.” That’s what Advent is all about.

Prayer:  Patient God, send me spiritual friends that can help me to see my world with Advent eyes – to recognize the thorns, but to know that they are a sign of a rose soon to bloom. Amen.

It Came Upon a Midnight Clear... Very Slowly -- Day 7

Christmas Angel: Good Tidings of Great Joy!
By Heart Rivers Art on Flickeriver.com

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men,
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay,
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heavenly music floats
O'er all the weary world;
Above its sad and lowly plains,
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o'er its Babel sounds
The blessèd angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring;
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing.

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!

For lo!, the days are hastening on,
By prophet bards foretold,
When with the ever-circling years
Comes round the age of gold
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world give back the song
Which now the angels sing.

"Angel" by Abbot Thayer

Folk who work in the church call the Sunday after Christmas a "low-Sunday," meaning that attendance is usually very low.  I never understood why, because the Sunday after Christmas is still Christmastide (which means the 12 days of Christmas), so while the rest of the world is woefully putting their decorations away, in the Church we keep the party going, the decorations up, and Christmas carols playing!  What's more, in many churches, the Sunday after Christmas is "Lessons and Carols," which means we scrap the sermon and instead fill the service with lots of snippets of the Christmas story interspersed with all the best Christmas carols!  One Christmas in Boston, the church where I worshipped at the time had hired a guest musician to play Lessons and Carols the Sunday after Christmas.  As we say in Texas, "bless her heart," but she wasn't a very lively organist.  I came to church pumped to sing all my favorite carols, but -- bless her heart -- she played each one like a funeral dirge!  It took so long to sing the word "Gloria" in the chorus of "Angels We Have Heard on High," that I almost passed out.

But then when we came to "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear," my exasperation at our excruciatingly slow tempo melted away... because suddenly I noticed the gorgeous poetry of the text like I never had before.  As a music person, I often focus on the melodies and harmonies, barely even noticing the words that I'm singing.  Slowing down allowed me to hear the carol in a completely new way, adding deep meaning to what was normally just a fun singalong.  Our guest musician -- bless her heart -- may not have had the best sense of tempo, but she ministered to me in a way I'll never forget nonetheless.

I wonder, how could you slow down this holiday season?  What might you discover?   What might you see in a new way?  Could you take time to just sit and stare at your Christmas tree or fireplace?  Could you take the time to copy parts of the old familiar Christmas story by hand, so that you might visit each word in a fresh and intentional way?  What about simply baking your treats or wrapping your gifts mindfully, as if you were doing these things for the Christ child himself?  As our carol tells us all, "O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing!"

Life in Community - Day 6

He will feed his flock like a shepherd, he will gather the lambs in his arms . . . Isaiah 40.11

It is precisely in communion with God through prayer that we discover the call to community.  It is remarkable that solitude always calls us to community.  In solitude, we realize we are part of a human family and that we want to live something together.

By community, I don't mean formal communities.  I mean families, friends, parishes, Twelve-Step programs, prayer groups.  Community is not an organization; community is a way of living.  We gather around us people with whom we want to proclaim the truth that we are the beloved daughters and sons of God.

Community is not easy.  Parker Palmer once observed that community is the "place where the person you least want to live with always lives."  In Jesus' community of twelve disciples, the last name was that of someone who was going to betray him.  That person is always in our community somewhere.  In the eyes of others, we might be that person . . .

Nonetheless, together, in the Spirit of Christ, we can build a home.  Sometimes we are close to each other and that is wonderful.  Sometimes we don't feel much love, and that is hard.  But we can be faithful.  We can build a home together and create space for God and for the children of God.

Henri J. M. Nouwen

Open Doors -- Day 5

I’m really into Advent Calendars this year – particularly the ones where you open little doors to see what’s inside. Steve and I even made a big one to use in Advent worship this year. Here is a picture of it being placed for Hanging of the Greens.

There’s something about the idea of opening doors that seems appropriate for Advent. There are so many “openings” in the stories leading up to the birth of Jesus that helped make that miracle happen: Mary and Elizabeth open their wombs, Joseph opens his heart, the innkeepers open their stable.

An open door suggests invitation, welcome, and openness to the new thing or stranger that may come through that door. An open door means the wall in front of us is not a barrier – there is a way in.  And opening a door suggests a willingness to be delighted with whatever surprises await us behind it. Open doors let in the light.

Closed doors can shut us out, or shut out the world. Closed doors are barriers to connection. Closed doors make us wonder if they are locked, and so will never open. Closed doors turn thresholds into walls. Closed doors can make us feel safe, but can also imprison. 

If Mary, or Joseph, or Elizabeth, or the innkeeper had not invited or welcomed in the divine when it appeared at their "doors," if they had remained closed -- would there have even been a Christmas?

As we open the little doors of our Advent calendars – literally or metaphorically – perhaps we should consider: What doors in our lives need to be opened? Are we opening doors or building walls?  Do we approach each day with gratitude and hopefulness, trusting God to see us safely across each threshold on our life journey, or do we shut and lock our doors in anger or fear?

Prayer:  God of the open door, help me to open the doors of my heart and my life to see the light of Your grace shining in. Amen.