It's Ash Wednesday - Again

The ritual associated with Ash Wednesday is simple and clear.  It reminds us that we, like everything else on this earth, will die.  Today we remind ourselves about the certain cycles of life and death – the beginning and the end.  We also remind ourselves who we are and from whom we come – God.
Today is a sort of reality check.  The prophet Joel calls us to look at who we are and how we are living and, when it seems we come up short, return to the Lord.  Today we begin a journey inward to encounter and confront all that separates us from God and from one another by taking account of all that causes pain, damage, and separation in our lives.

The season of Lent that begins today, is a time to acknowledge that to move to a new way of life, we first must die to the old – to give up the things that get in the way of our knowing God and one another more deeply and completely.  Lent is a time to remember our baptism and the call to know, love and serve God and one another that came with it.  It can be a season of great change.

During Lent, we reconnect with who we are, with who we can be, with whom God made us to be.  We are humans – made in God’s image and likeness – but unlike God, we are also made of dust – and into that dust we shall return.  Now, then, is the time to make the most of it all!

Fears

Fear. I don't know why I am ever afraid but I realize that I live in a low state of fear almost always. On many occasions it has been about pleasing others, making sure they were happy or at least not upset with me. An example: in a former relationship, I would make sure all the spoons were aligned in the drawer for "fear" that J would be upset if they were all akimbo. (The reasoning? When aligned they won't scratch!!) I often use that example to show myself how silly it all is.

But fear is more for me. While in prayer in this passage from Luke, I began to realize that my deeper non-neurotic fear is much more existential. It is about being relevant, about making a difference, about mattering or having a purpose in the world that others will notice and appreciate. Put in a different way, it is about wondering if I matter in the world.

The grace that descended on me in this prayer time is related to yesterday's post: the only one I really matter to is God., and God loves me utterly even in my vulnerability. His living gaze never leaves me even when I am in a "dark place."

Thus, I am loved by God and my relevance is rooted in simply becoming whatever God  has made me to be. I am allowed simply to be me and do not have to worry about keeping spoons in order. I have "beauty" (relevance) simply because I have been "wonderfully made". Wow! What a revelation to my heart.

I still fear being irrelevant, of not mattering, but I have an antidote to those dark feelings. Recalling God's loving gaze calms my heart.

-- based on Luke 12:22-34

Naked

Psalm 139

How does God gaze on me?
How open am I to receiving this intimacy?

It's interesting how disconcerting it is when people realize that almost nothing they upload to the internet remains private. The old adage scripsit maneat ("What is writeen remains.") is more true than ever. This gives me pause on praying through Psalm 139 and realizing that there are no secrets from God to whom "all hearts are open and from whom no secrets are hid."

There is no light and darkness. There is no place where God cannot know me and nothing about me that God does not already know -- even things that I don't know about myself are already known even "while I was being made in secret and woven in the depths of my mother's womb."

We are fascinated by ultra sound pictures of an unborn child, yet these are just rough images in comparison to what God sees and knows of me even there.  I begin to feel a little foolish, then, when I realize how much I think I can hide from God: all my imperfections, my sinfulness. God knows it all. And therein is the great truth - that God does know it all and because of it all - good and bad - continues to love me into being. "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain to it."

Unconditional love is what is too high for me. Hard to fathom, even more difficult to grasp.

I am put in mind of Bubba, my ever present canine companion. I heard someone recently describe that dogs stare at their "masters" because it is a way of expressing affection - it is the way they hug you -- with their eyes. So it is with God. God is "looking" at me always -- and with that gaze is enveloping me with love. Awesome.

Epiphany in our Day

In our current age, an age of globalization, our understanding of the Feast of the Epiphany takes on more importance than ever. The magi who sought the infant king were not Jewish, but gentile, they are outsiders yet they were led to find and worship God in Christ. Jesus is not simply the messiah for Israel but the fulfillment of the promise that all nations would be blessed through Abraham. 

The Church believes that Christ brings light for the whole world. In Christ, we believe that God call together the whole world and all its peoples. To celebrate this feast of the Epiphany, we need to see how Christ-event calls for a healing of divisions and an openness to learn from people of all cultures and languages. It is a call a just world order – trade policies that respect the economic opportunities of all people especially the poor – environmental policies that respect the world that we all share together – spending policies that respond to human needs – investment in human needs rather than the weapons of war – a greater equality in sharing the fruits of our work and our earth. 

The Feast of the Epiphany invites us to celebrate the wonderful reality that Jesus came as a “light to the nations,” not just for some subset of the human race. Thus, the categorical exclusion of anyone contradicts the good news of Jesus Christ. Racism, stereotyping, discrimination, xenophobia, ethnic violence, extreme income & asset inequality – all are wrong. 

Moreover, in the Epiphany story, we note that Herod reflects the behavior of one who is characterized by fear. The news about a new child to be “king” threatens his position in the world. Rather than opening his mind and heart to the possibility of learning from the wisdom of these outsiders, his fear transforms to anger. It is this anger that then seeks to destroy what the Magi came to discover. In a time when fear is the currency of our public discourse, we need to open our minds and hearts to this wisdom, else we, too, will seek to destroy what Christ has come to create. 

The Child the Magi sought continues to offer a vision that is worth their long and grueling journey. In own day, Jesus offers a light that is worth sharing. In the vision of this child, born in poverty and humility, the Magi found  wonderful light, powerful good news, and the possibility of liberation from sin, injustice, and prejudice. These foreigners experienced the power and the gift of the Christ Child. Even as thy brought gifts to be given to the Child, the Child in turn opened their (and our) eyes to the experience of the light of Christ as a gift for the whole world. Giving and receiving thus happen at the same time. This mutuality is part of the gospel of Jesus Christ. This, then, must be true in our own ministry for justice. 

The story of the Magi has implications for many aspects of church ministry. No one is to be excluded from the light of Christ. Whether we are young or old, female or male, gay or straight, rich or poor, black or white, from the south or the north, from the east or the west, from a famous school or a very ordinary one, employed or unemployed, healthy or sick, born in the US or elsewhere, all of us are invited to experience the Epiphany – the revelation of Christ for the world.

Hanging the greens or the "greening" of the Church

As we have already noted, through the centuries, Christians have observed a time of waiting and

expectation before celebrating the birth of the Savior at Christmas. The Advent season is a time for reflection and preparation; its mood is more joyful than repentant. Our Advent celebrations have been enriched by various traditions (like the ubiquitous advent wreath) to reflect its distinctive Christian meaning. These traditions all seek to proclaim the revelation of God's love as expressed in Christ's birth in a humble stable, His sacrificial death on the cross, and His victorious resurrection! They point to the hope of Christ's coming again as the King of kings and Lord of Lords. In a sense, Advent makes innkeepers out of all of us, asking each of us to make room for the arrival of the Christ Child.

Perhaps the most striking and the most universal feature of Christmas is the use of evergreens in churches and homes. Among ancient Romans evergreens were an emblem of peace, joy, and victory. Early Christians placed them in their windows to indicate that Christ had entered the home. Holly and ivy, along with pine, and fir are called evergreens because they never change color. They are ever-green, ever-alive, even in the midst of winter. Thus they can well symbolize the unchanging nature of our God, remind us of the everlasting life that is ours through Christ Jesus.

In Christian thought and sentiment, holly became widely used in church celebrations. Holly was seen to represent the burning bush from which Moses heard the voice of God, or a symbol of Mary whose being glows with the Holy Spirit. The red berries have represented the blood drops from the cruel thorns in the crown of Jesus. This latter representation is heard throughout many Advent and Christmas carols.

And so it is that once our attention focuses on the celebration of the Incarnation at Christmas (liturgically marked on December 17, he first day for the great “O Antiphons”), we “green” our worship spaces, anticipating and “making room” for the coming of Christ on Christmas.

This year, our greening occurs exactly on the 17th, a great fortune of coincidence! The antiphon assigned for Evening Prayer (Vespers) on that day begin: “O Come, Thou Wisdom from on high, who orders all things mightily . . .” You might recognize this as one of the verses from the hymn “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” (Hymnal, No. 56) and right you would be. In fact, this much beloved Advent hymn is a compilation of all seven of the “O” antiphons – one each evening from December 17th until our Christmas celebration! 

Even more than the beautiful greens in our church, the Christmas tree has become the center of many of our festivities. Often glittering with lights and ornaments, it is a part of the beauty and meaning of Christmas. There are several legends and stories about the Christmas tree.

The first use of the Christmas tree was in the medieval German Paradise Plays, held outdoors and portraying the creation of humankind. The Tree of Life was a fir tree decorated with apples. Later other ornaments were hung upon them, such as paper flowers and gilded nuts. In England branches or whole trees were forced into bloom indoors for Christmas. From these beginnings the use of a tree at Christmas was established.

The story is told that on one Christmas Eve Martin Luther wandered outdoors and was struck with the beauty of the starry sky. Its brilliance and loveliness led him to reflect on the glory of the first Christmas Eve as seen in Bethlehem's radiant skies. Wishing to share with his family the enchantment he felt, he cut from the forest an evergreen, glistening with snow, and took it home. He placed upon it candles to represent the glorious heavens he had seen. 

The use of a candle-lighted tree soon spread to all Europe and came to be regarded it as one of the central ornaments of Christmas.

So the next time you see the splendor of a Christmas tree, remember that it is a continuing witness to everlasting life as offered to us in Christ Jesus - and that far from a commercial enterprise, it speaks a deeply spiritual message . . . "O Christmas tree, O Christmas Tree, thy leaves are so unchanging" -- Just like God's love.

Welcome to Advent!

Everyone loves to celebrate Christmas, but Advent often gets short shrift – even in the Church. When Christians began to celebrate the birth of Jesus (sometime in the 500s A.D.), it seemed logical for them to prepare for it with great care. What resulted was a season of preparation that lasted about four weeks before Christmas (December 25^th). Early Christians thought of Christ’s coming not only in terms of the past (as a child in Bethlehem) but also in terms of the present and the future. For them, Christ came to earth in the past but comes to us now in Word and Sacrament and human need, and he will come again at the end of the world. Because the Second Coming will be in the future, the prayers, readings and hymns of the Church through the early part of Advent (before December 17^th) focus on the final judgment and the end of the world as we know it.

It can seem a little strange that the themes of the early days of Advent seem a little dark – especially as we prepare for the happy days of the Christmas season. For most of us, the fun of Christmas time cannot start soon enough. It becomes very easy to overlook the more solemn significance of Advent. A real concentration on Advent makes it a little harder to sell Christmas presents at the stores, so if we take Advent seriously, we may feel a little out of step with our families and friends, and especially the wider commercial culture.

For centuries, the Church has divided its thoughts about the end of world into “four last things” – death, judgment, hell, and heaven. These certainly are solemn themes, but this solemnity is filled with a certain quiet joy as we realize that our Creator has ordered all things toward a good end, and that a new heaven and a new earth are part of that plan. So solemnity does not equal sad! There can be as much joy in preparing for a celebration as in the celebrating itself. In fact, it is the excitement of anticipation for Christmas that gives us insight into the kind of excitement that we might feel concerning our anticipation of these “last things.”  

Use the time of Advent to prepare. Allow yourself the time you need to ponder and to wonder about the mysteries of God as we prepare. Allow our preparations for Christmas to become a model for how we prepare ourselves for our personal experience of “the last things.” Let the beauty and quiet solemnity of this season enrich our understanding and draw us closer to the mystery at the center of our faith:

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love Divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and Angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,

Love Incarnate, Love divine;

Worship we our Jesus:

But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,

Love be yours and love be mine,

Love to God and all men,

Love for plea and gift and sign.

Christina Rossetti

Maybe they survived…because they were thankful.

Most of us know the story. It was the autumn of 1621. In Plymouth, Massachusetts, after a rich harvest, the men, women and children who had survived the first year in the New World gathered for a feast to offer thanks. One of the pilgrims wrote at the time: “By the goodness of God, we are so far from want.”

What was it like?  With some internet research, I found that the menu for that first Thanksgiving had some surprises. It was not necessarily turkey and pumpkin pie. They probably ate venison. The pilgrims didn’t have forks; they used spoons, and, more than likely ate with their hands. The food was probably a lot more fatty than we are used to. High cholesterol numbers were unheard of and of little concern in their harsh lifestyle. The first pilgrims were more worried about plague and the pox than about lifestyle diseases.

They didn’t have much sugar, so sweets and desserts were probably not on the menu. So, forget the pumpkin pie; it probably wasn’t there. But whatever it may actually have involved, that autumn feast left us with an enduring tradition: people gathering around a table, giving thanks for surviving in an uncertain and difficult new place.

A few years ago, the Unitarian minister Peter Fleck suggested we look at all this a bit differently. “Maybe,” he wrote, “the pilgrims weren’t thankful because they had survived. But maybe they had survived…because they were thankful.”

These were people who lived their lives in wonder and hope, grateful for everything: the hard winds and deep snows…the frightening evenings and hopeful mornings …the long journey that had taken them to a new place. They knew how to express gratitude.

Gratitude doesn’t always come easily. We all know that generosity – the giving of a gift – means thinking more about others than about oneself. It represents an act of love. But so does being thankful. To give thanks is to extend beyond oneself. It is to remember whence comes the gift.

There is love in that. A love for the gift – and for the one who gave it.

Reverend Fleck suggested that maybe that is what enabled those pilgrims to thrive and prosper: a humble appreciation for whatever God gave them, trusting that He would give them what they needed. It’s an optimistic message, really — and gratitude, I think, carries within itself a spirit of optimism. Maybe that spirit can teach us something, as we endure our own hard winds and deep snows – the storms of our own lives. Especially now.

Later this month, Ken and I will travel to Delaware, where we will gather with family and friends for a grand Thanksgiving dinner. There will be 8 or 10 of us and we will share turkey with all the trimmings. Thanksgiving will be a time for family and friends who form a family of the heart, and for celebration.

But I know it won’t be that way for everyone.

The other day, I was passing the McDonald’s near our home. There was a big sign taped to the window. I think it tells us something about America this autumn. The sign said: “Open 24 hours on Thanksgiving Day.” For a lot of Americans, that will be the place for feasting. That will be their holiday. It won’t involve a grand buffet with turkey and pumpkin pie. It will be a hamburger and maybe a milkshake. But even so, Thanksgiving isn’t about giving thanks for having a lot. It’s about giving thanks for just having. For being. For knowing that whatever we have, whether it is served on a china plate or a cardboard carton, all of it is a gift. The prayers whispered over a Happy Meal are just as precious to God as the ones said over the turkey and stuffing.

And all of us, no matter where we find ourselves praying, will be bound together by one simple word: grace.  At a few McDonald’s this Thanksgiving, I’m sure that grace will be said. And, I am just as sure of this: that grace will be present – the grace of gratitude – the grace of thanking God for whatever gift He gives. And in the giving, and in the receiving, and in the thanking, there is something that transcends time and place. There is love.

Love for what we have, and love for what we have been given. And love for the God who gives it. Because no matter how fierce the winds, or how unforgiving the storm, at least on this day we shall seek to remember that our God is near.

The pilgrims knew that. Nearly four centuries later, those pilgrims left us a legacy, and a lesson: a beautiful example of what it means to have an “attitude of gratitude.”It is an attitude we all need to nurture — not just today, but every day. Gratitude can open our hearts – and change our lives – if only we let it.

Or, as Reverend Fleck so beautifully put it: maybe the pilgrims weren’t thankful because they survived.

Maybe they survived…because they were thankful.

Happy thanksgiving!