December 23, 2012

Today's text

So they [the shepherds] hurried away and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. When they saw the child they repeated what they had been told about him, and everyone who heard it was astonished at what the shepherds said to them (Luke 2:16-18).

Reflection

Joseph stands watch, silently listening. He never speaks. But he hears with his ears … and in his soul.

Mary shifts her weight and tries to sleep. The infant whimpers, crying out from time to time, and Mary instinctively pulls him closer. Sheep in the stall shuffle in the hay.

It’s a poor place for a newborn, and there is no one to call if the child and his mother need help. The sound of his aloneness closes around Joseph as he realizes it is all up to him and Mary, and she has all she can do to keep the child warm and fed.

He is alone with his thoughts and fears. Is the story true? Is this child the presence of God visiting his people? Could this child actually be the savior who brings … what?

How can a child save anyone? He is entirely dependent on us or he dies. Joseph’s mind trails off in a fog of fatigue, stirred at the sound of footfalls outside the stable.

Cold fear grips his gut. Who is out and about at this hour? Thieves? Drunks? Beggars looking for a handout? He steels himself for confrontation.

But none comes. Several shepherds appear in the stable opening. Two of them bend at the waist, breathing heavily from a hard run. The others look in, mouths hanging open, startled at what they see.

 It is just as it had been told them. Their feet scrape in the dirt as they step inside and stammer, “Did you see? Did you hear?”

A tale of light in the night sky and angelic messengers tumbles out of them, as Joseph stands agape, listening. Mary lifts her head toward them for only a moment, her gaze steady on the child she cradles.

Joseph had heard and seen nothing, and now these messengers come with a story as fantastical as the one Mary told him about the wonder of this child on that awful day he learned she was pregnant.

This child is the savior, the new king descended of the great King David. He is the Christ, the anointed one who uniquely bears the presence of God to cold stables on dark nights, when doubts distress and fears gather..

The shepherds believed what they’d heard and brought the message to the manger. We hardly think Mary and Joseph needed to be told what was happening.

But God sent messengers even to them that they might truly know their lives were caught up in the great story of God making his mind and heart flesh.

So is yours.

So look at the child … and know. God is not to be found by climbing mountains or in fits of spiritual ecstasy. God finds us in our common lives and stories where the love in Mary’s arms becomes flesh and blood.

Still.

For prayer and reflection

• What moved you or caught your attention in the reflection as you imagined the scene?
• Do you identify with Joseph or anyone else in the story? What do they show you?
• Do you think Mary and Josepha needed messengers to remind them of the wonder of which they were a part? How and when do you forget that you are part of that story? What brings you back?

Another voice

Who is the baby an hour or two old. Looked for by shepherds far strayed from their fold. Lost in the world though more precious than gold? This is God with us in Jesus.

Who is the man who looks on at the door, welcoming strangers, some rich but most poor. Scanning the world as if somehow unsure? Joseph, the father of Jesus.

(“The Aye Carol,” John L. Bell, 1987)

December 22, 2012

Today's text

Now it happened that when the angels had gone from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let us go to Bethlehem and see this event which the Lord has made known to us.' So they hurried away and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger (Luke 2:15-16).

Reflection

For years, I have prayed this story in my imagination, and each time I see a dumbstruck shepherd holding the infant Jesus.

But the story starts elsewhere. It begins with feet stumbling over rough ground. A handful of shepherds rush to see what is happening, thankful that something--they know not what--has interrupted the boredom of another long night among dumb sheep.

Coming to a stable, they stand mute at the opening, not ready to enter.

A small fire illumines the dark interior. A cow and three or four sheep lay in an enclosure to the right. A man on one knee looks down at an exhausted woman, turning his head as they approach.

He gestures, and they hesitantly enter, unsure if they should intrude. But they are not intrusion. They are the reason this whole thing is happening.

Coming close, they stand wide-eyed before a mother and infant child, nestled close amid the cold. The oldest of them steps closer to see the beauty of new life in Mary’s arms.

This is not strange to them. The shepherds know birth. They have helped ewes give birth and held their fragile young in calloused hands. They know what to do.

Mary looks at her child and into the eyes of the old shepherd and slightly lifts her bundle, a gesture he understands. She lays her child in his arms.

He says nothing but looks at the child, holding the blessing of midnight he will never understand. He understands only that it’s a night like no other he has seen: angels in the starlight, songs in the night, a child in his arms, his old eyes beholding the life he tenderly holds.

What he cannot understand is that the life he holds in worn hands is the life who holds him. He holds heart of God beating in the heart of a tender child. Looking into Jesus infant face, he cannot know that he gazes into the mystery of Love Unbounded.

Theologians of every age have sought to answer the question of why the Inexpressible God became mortal flesh. Some read the Scriptures and conclude the primary purpose of the incarnation was to atone for sin and forgive human guilt.

Others say, “no,” the incarnation did not take place because of human sin. God always planned to appear in mortal flesh, taking all that we are into himself, holding it close and loving it all, just like the old shepherd cradling Mary’s child.

Christmas Eve will soon be upon us, and once again we are the shepherds, beckoned to hold the child who holds us all.  

For prayer and reflection

• What did you see, feel, hear and notice as you imagine the scene of the shepherds coming to the manger?
• What message comes to you as you see the shepherd holding the child? Can you put yourself in the scene, holding Jesus?
• How do each of us complete creation, allowing God to be incarnate in our flesh?

Another voice

Jesus, Lord of all creation, sleep now close beside your mother, Mary. Bring us light amid the darkness, promise of life without end. For a child is born, the world rejoices! Shepherds and angels proclaim his birth. This is Jesus the Lord, our Savior and brother, bearing  God’s peace to the earth.

(“Nativity Carol,” Francis Patrick O’Brien, 1992)

December 21, 2012

Today's text

And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven, praising God with the words: Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those he favors (Luke 2:13-14).

For a son has been born for us, a son has been given to us, and dominion has been laid on his shoulders; and this is the name he has been given, 'Wonder-Counselor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace' (Isaiah 9:6).

Reflection

Peace is an elusive experience for most of us. It is hard to know what it is, let alone how to find it.

But we know it when washes over us. There is a total release of inner tension and a feeling of wholeness. Our soul is soaked in the awareness that all is well and all will be well no matter what may come.

This is the oft-quoted conviction of Julian of Norwich, a 14th century English mystic. She lived at the time of the Bubonic Plague, the Black Death that killed a third of the population.

Some might say it was obscene for her to know peace at a time of such suffering. But her words reveal the promise of God for every one of us.  

I want what she had. I want the peace the Christmas angels promise.

We have too little peace in our lives and in the world. Rockets from Gaza are raining down on Jerusalem as I write. Civil war continues to roil Syria, killing thousands who only want freedom.

In the U.S., political operatives continue to offer accusatory explanations of what happened in the recent presidential election, undermining each others’ efforts instead of working for the good of all of us. No peace here, either.

And too little in our hearts. We live far from the angels’ song, but their strains bid us to quiet our hearts and listen that the song of God’s soul may fill us.

“On earth … peace, in my heart … peace, among the nations … peace, for those with whom I struggle … peace.”

Turn it into a mantra, a prayer that the peace of heaven might fill your soul and cover the earth. Say it a hundred times a day or more. Repeat it as often as you think of it. Speak it quietly when you are caught in traffic or when frustration rises.

Say it as a prayer over the evening news and when you see the distress of others.

Pray it with a smile of gratitude at each sight of beauty, every song that moves you and in every moment of joy.

Make this your Christmas and New Year’s prayer, “Peace.”

The angels sing; do them the courtesy of listening for a moment and repeat their chorus, “On earth … peace.”

They will teach you what Julian knew far better than any of us. Peace has less to do with the outward circumstances of our lives than with the condition of our hearts.

It begins when we receive the love who comes to us everyday, and most certainly on Christmas Day.

For prayer and reflection

• When have you experienced the peace of God? How does it change you? Where do you need peace this year?
• How might you use the angel’s song as a prayer mantra? Have you ever prayed this way?
• What is our calling as Christians in a conflicted world and nation? How can you live as a person of God’s peace?

Another voice

Child of mercy, child of peace, Jesus bread of life, food to fill our longing. Child of justice, child of light, Jesus saving cup, Emmanuel, God with us. We name him: Wonder, counselor, hero mighty God, the Holy One for ever; Prince of peace!

(“Child of Mercy,” David Haas, 1991)

December 20, 2012

Today's text

And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven, praising God with the words: Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those he favors (Luke 2:13-14).

Reflection

Christmas comes, inviting us to see ourselves and our world as God sees.

God looks with favor on the lowliness of his servant, Mary sings in the Magnificat. The angels proclaim peace to those God favors. This is not a message for a few but for all nations, every time and age … and you.

God looks with favor on the face of creation and on your face.

Imagine sitting in silence, looking into the gentle smile of someone who loves you more than you can understand, someone who loves you more than yourself.

Imagine their smile beaming complete love, utter welcome and total delight in having you near. Feel the grace that hungers to share your hopes and dreams, a love for which bearing with your burdens is not a burden for them, but a privilege and joy.

God looks at you with this smile, the smile of divine favor, refusing to turn from your failures and sins, your arrogance or presumption, nor even from the moments of your life you wish you could forget.

God sees it all, loving it all and all of you.

We can barely imagine such love, but we so desperately need it and long to believe in it. And it is doubly difficult for those wearied by disappointments and low esteem to believe that this is how the Loving Mystery of God sees them.

The smile of God’s good favor shines on the lowly ones and the lowly places in each of us. The Divine Majesty looks on creation, the world in all its beauty and brokenness, grace and glory, longing to make it whole.

The angels’ song proclaims the truth of God’s favor, which is a wonder we cannot know with our minds but only in the depth of our being where deepest feelings and convictions dwell.

God comes to share our human flesh in Jesus Christ. He comes with the smile of divine favor to heal and warm, to grace and welcome, to give us the peace of God.

For that, we truly pray: Come, Lord Jesus.

For prayer & reflection

• What experiences or longings are awakened by today’s reading?
• Try to imagine the face of Christ smiling at you, showering you with the smile of divine favor. What is moved and awakened in you?
• What makes it hard for you to accept and know you are God’s favored one?
• For what troubled part of our world do you hunger for the peace of God?

Another voice

In your love you now fulfill what you promised to your people. I will praise you Lord, my savior, everlasting is your mercy and holy is your name.

(“Holy Is Your Name,” David Haas, 1989)

December 19, 2012

Today's text

The angel said … ‘today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. And here is a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.' And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven praising God with the words: Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace for those he favors (Luke 2: 11-14).

Reflection

The search for a savior is common among human souls. Saviors bring salvus, health and wholeness not only to our hearts but to the heart of world. They imitated justice, peace and prosperity among the nations. We want such salvation, but who brings it?

Jesus was not the only one who bore the title ‘savior’ in the ancient world. Most notable was Octavian, otherwise known as Caesar Augustus. In 31 BCE, he had ended a prolonged civil war that had ripped apart the Roman Empire and thus much of the world.

Reuniting the empire, he was hailed as Augustus, the ‘Divine One.’ He was called The Lord, Bringer of Peace, Redeemer, Liberator, Son of God, Savior of the World, divinity incarnate.

Virtually every title attached to Jesus had already been assigned to Octavian for bringing peace to a war-weary world.

Octavian, the savior, brought peace through violence, conquering and subduing the forces of chaos that threatened the world.

And Jesus, infant son of peasants born in a far corner of the empire, what does he bring? What can he possibly bring to a world much wider yet as troubled as when he walked the earth?

He brings no armies, no subjugation, no force to destroy our enemies. He brings a table. And around that table he invites friend and enemy alike to eat and drink, feasting on the infinite generosity of God.

Peace comes through the sharing of bread and justice, mercy and compassion.

For the most part, the world is in thrall to Octavian’s way. Most don’t believe in Jesus way of peace, including most Christians. Victory over those who trouble us, the use of force and threats to get our way, these are considered the wisest and safest course in a menacing world.

But the angels’ song has never died out through 20 centuries. They continue to pull at our souls, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace for those he favors.”

The angels announce the dawning of a new age. Their song of glory carries our hearts to the manger of the real savior who bears God’s favor and salvation for every last one of us.

For prayer and reflection

• What does the angel’s song awaken in your heart and mind?
• What is the difference between Christ’s way and the way of Caesar Augustus?
• How can you live Jesus’ way of peace during this season and beyond?
• To what saviors do the world and the nations look for salvation?

Another voice

Hark! The herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn king; peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinner reconciled. Joyful all you nations, rise; join the triumph of the skies; with angelic hosts proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem. Hark! The herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn king!

(“Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,” text: Charles Wesley, music: Felix Mendelssohn, 1830)

           

December 18, 2012

Today's text

An angel of the Lord stood over them and the glory of the Lord shone round them. They were terrified, but the angel said, 'Do not be afraid. Look, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by the whole people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord (Luke 2:9-11).

Reflection

There are moments when you know why you were born.  

I open my e-mail and find a thank you note. “Your gentle questions and love helped me,” it says. “Thanks for talking with me even though I knew you were very tired.”

The note goes on, but through tears I can no longer read.

This feeling should not be confused with happiness. Happiness happens more or less when we expect it. Something goes our way; the marriage, the job, the vacation, the good things we want come to us. Circumstances turn ’round right.

But this is joy, and joy is something much more.

Joy is the fulfillment of heart. It comes when our in-most being experiences completion, ultimate satisfaction, and it is as likely to come in moments of great sorrow as at times of happiness, maybe even more likely.

Joy springs to life when our depths are touched by the divine, when mortal flesh meets the eternal substance of God and our inner emptiness is filled by love unlimited.

The Christmas story is shot through with such joy. John the Baptist leaps for joy in his mother’s womb as Mary approaches. Mary herself rejoices in the God who looks with favor on his beloved people. Angels announce good news of a great joy for all people to a clutch of shepherds on a hillside.

The angels announce the birth of the one in whom heaven and earth meet. Jesus comes as savior, the one who brings the joy of God’s life to our mortal neediness.

It seems unlikely that a child born in a cattle stall can bring anything to earth other than more poverty, let alone the joy of fulfillment

But that’s the message of Christmas. Christ comes filled with the fullness of God, the fullness we taste and know in moments when love fills our frame and our hearts taste the completion God intends.

So come once more to the stable. Run with the shepherds to see him. Run until your chest aches and all breath has left you. Gaze into Jesus face and sing songs of the miracle he is. Receive the joy awakened within.

And you will long to live everyday like its Christmas.

For prayer & reflection

·         What thoughts, memories and emotions did today’s reflection awaken in you? 

·         What Christmas was most joyful for you?

·         When have  you been surprised by joy, the fulfillment and filling of your soul?

·         Have you ever experienced joy amid sadness or sorrow?

Another voice

Joy to the earth, the Savior reigns! Let all their songs employ, while fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sound joy, repeat the sounding joy, repeat, repeat the sounding joy!

(“Joy to the World,” Isac Watts, 18^th century)

December 17, 2012

Today's text

In the countryside close by there were shepherds out in the fields keeping guard over their sheep during the watches of the night. An angel of the Lord stood over them and the glory of the Lord shone round them. They were terrified (Luke 2:8-9).

Reflection

There are conflicting traditions about shepherds in the biblical world. One on hand, great figures of Israel’s history were shepherds. Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Jacob were all shepherds.

Kings were called shepherds of the people, and David, Israel’s greatest king, grew up as a shepherd. Biblical prophecies of the Messiah say he will gather his sheep and feed his flock … like a shepherd.

On the other hand, shepherds were thought so destitute and unsavory they were not trusted because they stole to support themselves.

Their work could be brutal. Shepherds kept watch for predators skulking in the darkness eager to devour fresh meat, a wearisome task filled with hours of grinding boredom interrupted by tsunamis of terror.

They had no great expectations for their lives. Their hopes for fulfillment were small-- drinking with friends, convivial laughter, the comfort of a woman.

Nor did they aspire to learning or places of importance. Such hopes belonged to those more favorably born. They lived in the darkness on the edge of society, watching dumb animals, keeping beasts at bay.

But it is out there that the glory of the Lord shines in the night, and fearful shepherds hug the ground.

Their reaction is all wrong. They should have stood, arms outstretched to receive the shining light of God’s nearness. They could have shed their cloaks and basked in the warmth of the Holy Presence.

But that’s the way it is with human hearts. We flee from the things we most need, running from the love that seeks to enfold us, and few needed it more than a bunch of shepherds huddled in the darkness.

Like them, we stay busy enough with what demands our attention.  But we seldom lift our eyes to hope that our lives might be extraordinary, filled with light and love from God’s infinite store.

Such exceptional grace belongs to others, not to us. But they do belong to us. That’s the message of Christmas.

The light in the night sky, illumining the shepherds, shatters our earth-bound expectations and anticipates all  Jesus would say and do.

He is the face of the God whom no eye has seen. The warming light of his nearness shines first on the outcast, the forgotten, the despised and misunderstood, bearing good news to the poor and peace to the oppressed.

In that light, they began to see their lives are extraordinary, created for the glory of a great love they could not imagine.

In the darkness, they saw what we miss.

Questions for prayer and reflection

• Do you identify with the shepherds in any way?
• What keeps you from seeing and feeling your life as extraordinary, intended for God’s love and blessing?
• Imagine the scene of the shepherds keeping watch as the glory of the Lord shines around them. What do you see, hear and feel in the scene? What is most important or powerful?

Another voice

Shepherds, in the fields abiding,watching o’er your flocks by night. God with us is now residing, yonder shines the infant light. Come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ the newborn king.

(“Angels, from the Realms of Glory,” James Montgomery, 1857)

December 16, 2012

Today's text

Now it happened that at this time Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be made of the whole inhabited world. This census--the first- took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria, and everyone went to be registered, each to his own town. So Joseph set out from the town of Nazareth in Galilee for Judaea, to David's town called Bethlehem, since he was of David's House and line, in order to be registered together with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. Now it happened that, while they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to a son, her first-born. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the living-space (Luke 2:1-7).

Reflection

Old photos float across my computer screen. Every few seconds a new one appears. Today, I see Rachel, my daughter, riding on a merry-go-round.

She is not a child but a mother. She stands beside a wooden horse looking down on a dark-haired little boy whose face is electric with wonder. Ethan is two, and life is new. Each fresh experience awakens his tender soul to the startling joy of being alive.

Older eyes grow jaundiced, having seen it all, the exhilaration of living, sadly, worn off. But not these eyes. These eyes are alive to the wonder of living, filled with joy that it can be so good.

But he is not most the arresting face in the photo. That accolade belongs to Rachel, who looks down at him, her gentle eyes and smile filled with a love she probably didn’t know she could feel until she first felt the stirring of new life in her womb.

She transports me to the manger. Hers are the eyes of Mary, the eyes of a mother moved beyond words at the miracle of bringing forth new life and cradling it in her arms.

Our eyes are hungry for Christmas. We need to see it … to feel it. We need Christmas to fill us with the miracle of the love that shines in Rachel’s face. We need it to come and transport us beyond our world-weariness and re-awaken the joy of the little boy in this old photo.

So we come to the manager, open the eyes of imagination and watch Mary pick up her child. She wraps him in strips of cloth, not because she is poor but because she loves him more than she has words to say.

We look again into her eyes and see shining there a love beyond her own, the love who brings Christmas, the love who hungers to fill our souls and make our hearts supple and new once more.

Mary wraps her child and looks down into his sleeping face. We’ve seen such scenes before. So look again with the eye of memory and imagination.

See the heart of God nestled by a human heart. The sight will awaken you to the wonder of the Love who humbly comes, resting in a donkey’s feed box, swaddled in human love, hungry to be held … by you.

For prayer and reflection

• What thoughts, memories and emotions did today’s reflection awaken in you?
• Where do you see and feel Christmas re-awakening your heart this year?
• Remember a Christmas when you wanted and needed your heart to be made new. What happened?

Another voice

Silent Night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child. Holy Infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in heavenly peace.

(“Silent Night”, text: Joseph Mohr, music: Franz Gruber, 1840)

December 15, 2012

Today's text

In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things came into being, not one thing came into being except through him. What has come into being in him was life, life that was the light of men. … The Word became flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory that he has from the Father as only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:1-4, 14).

Reflection

God speaks into the silence of night. It has always been that way.

In the beginning, there was nothing but silent darkness. Then God spoke and worlds exploded into existence. Physicists tell us a big bang sent matter screaming through space at unbelievable speed, scattering into distant corners that hadn’t before existed.

Over billions of years a universe came to be--immensity and beauty, life and intelligence, where nothing had been. God spoke in the silent darkness awakening life and wonder.

That’s the way it always is … and certainly at Christmas.

Christmas comes in the deep silence of night when few are awake to notice the birth of divine life in human flesh. Songs of the season transport us to the night Jesus was born to listen to all God is saying … and know.

 “Silent Night, Holy Night; It Came upon a Midnight Clear; O, Holy Night; other songs carry us to the dark streets of Bethlehem that we might see and feel the light of life entering our world and our souls

But the silence of night is not always our friend. It does not always bring grace.

The wee hours are times when memories haunt and fears attack. In the dark hours, restless hearts are perturbed by past wounds and mistakes, and the looming future holds as much threat as promise.

But here, too, God speaks in the silence of our night. God invites us to the stable that saw Jesus’ birth that we may imagine and look into his fragile infant face.

Imagine yourself there. Place yourself in the stable, standing near an exhausted Mary, fitful, trying to sleep. Joseph kneels at her side and holds her arm, and you stand close, cradling an infant wrapped in strips of cloth, enfolded in your arms.

Put yourself there … and listen. Listen to your heart. Listen in the great silence of your soul where fears come and you wonder what life is about.

Listen … and look at this child. What does God say in the silent darkness of your all-too-human heart?

Whatever else comes, hear the tenderness at the heart of the God who hungers to be held and loved by you. In the deep silence of your days and nights, God whispers a love that comes for us and always will.

For prayer and reflection

• What emotions, thoughts and memories were stirred by today’s reflection?
• When do you most need to hear what God is saying through the birth of Jesus this year?
• Where and when is it most possible for you to hear God speaking to you?

Another voice

Cold are the people, winter of life. We tremble in shadows this cold endless night. Frozen in the snow lie roses sleeping. Flowers that will echo the sunrise. Fire of hope is our only warmth. Weary, its flame will be dying soon.

(“Night of Silence,“ Daniel Kantor, 1984)

December 14, 2012

Today's text

The Word was the real light that gives light to everyone; he was coming into the world. He was in the world that had come into being through him, and the world did not recognize him. He came to his own and his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, … born not from human stock or human desire or human will but from God himself (John 1:9-12).

Reflection

Peggy and Michael met in the prayer corner last Sunday morning. I saw them as I stepped from the Lord’s Table. Communion distribution was done, but holy communion continued as they sat knee-to-knee, their hands and hearts folded into each other.

The scene was just right. It was perfect: A prayer minister with cancer held the hands of a father living in prayer for his seriously ill child and the struggle of his family, which has endured many deaths.

Who knows how to pray for him like she does? I can’t imagine anyone as qualified. They need each other more than the rest of us can understand.

They sat together, the worn and worried, receiving the warmth and grace of the other, joined so closely in prayer that you could not see where one pair of hands left off and the other began.

It was the meeting of hope and fear. Hope won. Peace prevailed. Christmas came once more. God became flesh as the grace of two Christ-filled hearts blessed each other in Sunday morning light.

It couldn’t have happened if our congregation didn’t have that prayer space in the front corner of the sanctuary for needy souls to care for each other.

It certainly wouldn’t have happened without the grace of hospitality, the open-hearted willingness to receive the need and soul of another into one’s own heart.

They could have isolated themselves in their private pain as so many do, protecting their hearts behind thick walls lest anyone see how vulnerable they are. But they surrendered to the possibility that God’s magic might happen if they opened themselves to receive the grace and pain of others.

They accepted what each other brought, receiving the flesh of God, becoming truest children of God.

Christmas is about this kind of hospitality. God takes our flesh into himself as Christ, the heart of God, puts on mortal flesh. Our need and weakness is received into God in an ultimate act of hospitality. The life of God and the need of our bodies and souls are folded into one, like hands in prayer. Life and grace, blessing and need pass between us.

Hospitality is present throughout the Christmas story. Mary and Joseph depend on the generosity of strangers as they traveled to Bethlehem. Mary gives birth to Jesus in a cattle stall provided by someone who invited them inside.

In the ancient world, life depended on the hospitality of others. Looking at Peggy and Michael, I see that it still does.

For prayer and reflection

• When have you been blessed by the hospitality of others, or by your own acts of hospitality?
• What keeps you from sharing yourself like Peggy and Michael?
• How might you show greater hospitality to others in your life during this season?

Another voice

What child is this, who laid to rest, on Mary’s lap is sleeping? Whom angels greet with anthems sweet while shepherds watch are keeping? This, this is Christ the king, whom shepherds guard and angels sing; haste, haste to bring him laud, the babe, the son of Mary!

(“What Child Is This,” William C. Dix, 16^th cent.)

December 13, 2012

Today's text 

This is how Jesus Christ came to be born. His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph; but before they
came to live together she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being an upright man and wanting to spare her disgrace, decided to divorce her informally. He had made up his mind to do this when suddenly the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 'Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because she has conceived what is in her by the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son and you must name him Jesus, because he is the one who is to save his people from their sins.' Now all this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: Look! The virgin is with child and will give birth to a son whom they will call Immanuel, a name which means 'God-is-with-us' (Matthew 1:18-24).

Reflection

Do not fear. What you need will come, and you will know I am with you and always will be. I am
Immanuel. I will come to save you in all your perils.

We have no way of knowing what ran through Joseph’s mind as he walked Mary to Bethlehem. But I
hope words like these echoed in his depths as he made his way into an unknowable future.

Joseph is a lonely figure. He never speaks in Scripture. We never hear his voice or learn what is in his
heart. Tradition suggests he was older than Mary, so much older that he may never have seen Jesus into
adulthood.

He never gets much attention, even at Christmas.

With Mary at his side, he trekked over hills and through rocky valleys searching for places to rest and
sleep, to eat and find the warmth of hospitality on the way to Bethlehem. Long hours of heavy silence
hung between the two travelers, leaving Joseph too much alone with his thoughts:

“Can it be? Is this a child of God’s own spirit? Was the angel’s message real or a foolish stretch of my
imagination because I need to believe Mary is true?

What will come next? How will it end? Can anything good come of this?”

And who could Joseph tell about his dream? Who would believe him or think him sane?”

Joseph is silent, alone with his thoughts. But he isn’t, of course.

Many travel this road. They live with haunting questions and fret over sick or troubled children. They
doubt their judgment about decisions made and others yet to come. They wonder what will happen next to
their families and lose sleep trying to find ways to fix their troubles.

Joseph’s sole comfort came from words in a dream to which he clung: “Do not fear. I am sending you
Immanuel, God with us. Wait. Trust. Watch.

Immanuel will come, and you will know you are not alone and never will be.

For prayer & reflection

• What thoughts, feelings and memories were stirred by today’s reflection?
• What questions plague you and make you wonder whether God is with you?
• When have you experienced Immanuel, God with us?
• What does the promise of Immanuel mean to you this year?

Another voice

God of Adam, God of Joseph, God of sowing, soil and seed. Thank you for your world of promise: Milk
and honey, wine and bread. Thank you for all men entrusted with the charge of fatherhood, and for those
who have no children, yet are parents under God.
(“God of Adam, God of Joseph,” Fred Kaan, 1989)

December 12, 2012

Today's text

The angel [Gabriel] answered, 'The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will cover you with its shadow. And so the child will be holy and will be called Son of God. And I tell you this too: your cousin Elizabeth also, in her old age, has conceived a son, and she whom people called barren is now in her sixth month, for nothing is impossible to God.' for nothing is impossible to God.'  Mary said, ‘Here I am. The servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her (Luke 1:35-39).

Reflection

The Christmas rush is on, too much to do and too little time. But it is not just this season.

I have been in a hurry much of my life, and I am not alone. We are driven by the awareness there that we have too little time to do, see and accomplish what we want or think we should do.

I take on too much and habitually underestimate the amount of time each new task requires. Completing one job I speed to the next, which accounts for a number of traffic tickets I’ve received, including one for a stop sign last week. I thought the red sign was merely a suggestion.

But the longer I live the more aware I am that life cannot be forced, love cannot be hurried and the human heart requires time to know itself and the wonder of God. Spiritual depth and truest life can’t be rushed but must be welcomed and received.

But it can only be received by those who refuse to force the future, those who live Mary’s prayer, “Let it be to me according to your word.”

So let us do what we can to live and love, conforming our lives to our limits and knowing that what happens today, in this place and time, in each of our lives, in this holy season, is not entirely up to us.

More is happening than we can know, so the humble and wise pray, “Let it be.”

A medieval painting of the angel Gabriel greeting Mary is indelibly imprinted in my mind.

Gabriel bows before Mary not daring to look at this thin slip of a girl, as he tells her the darkness of her womb will bear the Soul of the Universe, the heart of the unimaginable God.

Mary bows from the waist, too, facing Gabriel. Looking down in humility, her posture, matches the bent body of the great angelic messenger. They are matching bookends, bowing before the beauty and wonder of the other--and before the mystery that their lives are not their own. Their stories belong to the story of God’s love for a broken world.

They bow, conforming to whatever God requires of them in this great saga, little knowing what will come, what they must do or the pain and joy each day may bring.

Their whole posture whispers quiet faith, “Let it be,” a prayer we need every new morning.

For prayer and reflection

·         What images, ideas and memories were stirred by today’s reflection?

·         For what in your life do you need to pray “Let it be?” What makes this payer hard for you?

·         When and where does the rush of this season prevent you from resting in God’s will and care?

·         Do you have a favorite or most meaningful picture of Mary or of the Christmas story?

Another voice

“Let it Be” and in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me.  Speaking words of wisdom, Let it Be.  And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me.  Shine until tomorrow, Let it Be.

(Let It Be,” Paul McCartney).

December 11, 2012

Today's text

When all the people asked him, 'What must we do, then?' he answered, 'Anyone who has two tunics must share with the one who has none, and anyone with something to eat must do the same.' There were tax collectors, too, who came for baptism, and these said to him, 'Master, what must we do?' He said to them, 'Exact no more than the appointed rate' (Luke 3:10-14).

Reflection

Gwen sent me an e-mail today. She wants help buying two goats for her grandchildren.

The goats aren’t for them but will go to a needy family to provide milk and presumably little goats to sell and produce income. Gwen says her grandchildren love the idea that somewhere in the world a family will receive two goats, given in their name.

I also hope they learn how to see the way the way their grandmother sees. Gwen sees through God’s eyes.

She sees a world hungry for the kingdom of God to come. And she bears a holy instinct that knows God’s new world appears every time justice is done for the needy, even if it looks as inconsequential as two small goats.

We live in a world where children toil in sweat shops so we can buy cheap goods, a world where tens of thousands perish of hunger every day, where most people must drink polluted water that sickens and kills, a world where two goats can save the lives of children in an African village.

Christ is born into this world, not a world more perfect than the one we’ve got. He comes

to overturn the reign of sorrow and death that casts its long shadow over human hearts and nations.

John the Baptist leaves little doubt about how to get ready for this new world. Give your extra coat to someone who needs it. Don’t oppress or take advantage. Don’t take more than your share. Don’t be addicted to your wealth or way of life. Feed the hungry. Spend less. Share more.

Keep your eyes on God’s future, the one where compassion rules and justice covers the earth like the waters cover the sea.

Then look at the world as Gwen does, and become the warmth of Christ for which you hunger in this and every season.

 For prayer and reflection

• What do you want Christ to turn upside down in our world? In your life?
• Who or what helps you see the injustice of this world?
• How can you be involved in works of mercy, feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, clothing the poor, etc.?
• What desire to serve or help others has been awakened in you this season?

 Another voice

Long Lay the World in sin and error pining, “til he appeared and the soul felt it’s worth. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices. As yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

(O Holy Night, Adolphe Adam, 1847)

December 10, 2012

Today's text

A voice cries, 'Prepare in the desert a way for the Lord. Make a straight highway for our God across the wastelands. Let every valley be filled in, every mountain and hill be leveled, every cliff become a plateau, every escarpment a plain; then the glory of the Lord will be revealed and all humanity will see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken’

(Isaiah 40:3-5).

The Word became flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory that he has from the Father as only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14).

Reflection

Abby cried into my robe on Saturday. She pushed her wild head of blond hair into my side, and I wrapped her in my robe to chase away her shame.

I don’t know what she received, but she made my heart ready for Christmas morning.

It was her first time as acolyte, and she was wired (as usual), eager to do everything right. But things didn’t go right.

She lit the candles at the Lord’s table, but the wick in the lighter wouldn’t retract far enough to extinguish the flame. It grew longer and brighter, reaching perilously close to her eyes and wispy bangs.

Her front-pew father was quickly at her side and blew out the flame on the lighter. A teary Abby took her place by me on the bench at the front of the church, weeping. I wrapped her in the folds of my robe and held her, as she felt every eye in church on her.

This wasn’t how she planned it. This precious girl, so alive with a lightening quick mind and a heart of gold, wanted only to serve and smile. She wanted to feel the goodness of giving herself to God and the people of our congregation, sharing what is in her.

Instead, her embarrassment drew me to give what was in me. She awakened a love that wanted only to comfort a child in danger of forgetting how precious and beautiful she is.

Abby and I shared a moment of giving and receiving the love who holds us both.

It was still November, but Christmas had come. The love of God took flesh in both of us, and we felt its glory.

Readiness to love and receive the love of God wherever it appears is truest preparedness for Christmas. For we never quite know when Christ might come.

Sometimes he comes humble in a manger, and sometimes in little blond-haired girls.

Come, Lord Jesus, and let us receive that love which holds us and all things.

For prayer & reflection

• What keeps you from receiving and giving love to others?
• Is there someone you might reach out to this year with a special phone call or a letter, a lost friend, someone you have not told what they mean to you?
• What practices help you prepare the way of the Lord, opening you to receive and share Christ and his love? Does listening to music help? Solitude and quiet? Meditating or praying for others? Serving in a food pantry and helping others?

Another voice

To us, to all in sorrow and fear, Emmanuel comes a singing. His humble song is quiet and near, yet fills the earth with its ringing. Love be our song, and love our prayer, and love our endless story. May God fill every day we share, and bring us at last into glory!

(“Awake, Awake and Greet the New Morn,” Marty Haugen, 1983)