Thursday, December 17, 2009

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Today’s text

Luke 1:46-49


And Mary said: My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; because he has looked upon the humiliation of his servant. Yes, from now onwards all generations will call me blessed, for the Almighty has done great things for me.

Reflection

Lift my lungs into praise of your wonder, O Lord. Sweep me into the chorus of rejoicing that I might be whole.

My soul languishes in regions of sadness where I know neither you nor my own self. Like Mary, like all humanity, I am whole only in the joy that comes in knowing you, in being swept up in the current of all that your love is doing.

This, I think, is the source of Mary’s praise, of her joy and the fulfillment of her soul, a completion for which my soul longs.

She sees, she knows, she feels within her own womb the goodness of what you are doing, coming in human form to each of us, to all of us. In startled joy, she knows she shares wholly in the greatness of your loving design, the work of love you make known in Jesus, our brother.

Joy is being swept up in you, my Lord. It is knowing that all we are--our soul, mind and the smallest parts of our bodies--are encompassed in your immensity. You are Love itself, Holy Mystery, so joy is being caught up in Love’s own being as it lifts the lowly and illumines the darkest paces of earth and soul.

We do not choose to praise you, my Lord. Praise comes as a precious gift when we, like Mary, are swept up in you, feeling ourselves immersed and encompassed in the liquidity of your life.

How this happens, when and where we cannot easily say, only that it does, and that it happens when we are in you. So we give ourselves to the work of praying and singing and reaching to you. We give ourselves to service, to loving, sharing and giving. For we know these are your works, your places, your haunts.

And we wait with hope for you to come and sweep us away from ourselves and the gray burdens of the day, carrying us to heights of praise where we know you as Holy Wonder and ourselves as blessed beloved.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Today’s text

Luke 1:39-42


Mary set out at that time and went as quickly as she could into the hill country to a town in Judah. She went into Zechariah's house and greeted Elizabeth. Now it happened that as soon as Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leapt in her womb and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. She gave a loud cry and said, 'Of all women you are the most blessed, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.’

Reflection

I know why Elizabeth was filled with joy. It is because you, My Lord, filled Mary. Elizabeth’s heart jumps, to say nothing of the child she carried within her, at the presence of the Presence for which we all long.

Your Presence brings joy even amid gray December when the Western world is alight with happy twinkling that somehow fails to shed the joy for which the heart hungers.

I long for the joy that came so naturally to Elizabeth at Mary’s approach. A great flood of tears and laughter, joy and fulfillment is unleashed in her. She feels your nearness, and that alone--that only--propelled her soul to the heights of human fulfillment.

That’s the way it is in every age. Joy is in your presence. Completion comes as we feel your nearness, as we know you are here for us and always will be.

My fingers try to write my soul into this awareness as I imagine the scene. Elizabeth steps outside her house, her face alight. Her arms quickly open to enfold dearest Mary in love’s embrace, only to find that it is she, herself, who is embraced in ways she can never really understand.

Her life is enfolded into the life of the God who is love. Love’s Presence unleashes in her that flood of joy that is your joy to release in human souls.

So come to us, Lord Jesus. Free our souls from December grayness with the joy that runs like an unfettered river, surging and free, flowing from depths we did not know we possessed.

Let our laughter echo deep from lungs released from bonds of sadness. We, too, want to enfold you in our arms and know exactly what Elizabeth knew. Then we shall be whole.

Pr. David L. Miller