Through Stained Glass: Advent...Christmas...Word a Day-Child

“In many people Christ lives the life of the Host. Our life is a sacramental life.

This Host life is like the Advent life, like the life of the Child in the womb, the Child in the swaddling bands, the Christ in the tomb. It is a life of dependence upon creatures, of silence and secrecy, of hidden light. It is the life of a prisoner.”
― Caryll Houselander

“Why Tonight?”

Luke 2.1-20

December 24, 2019

Why tonight?

The short answer: the birth of a child.

Not just any child, through this child all children are saved from the worst we have to offer.

Tonight is about the birth of the Christ child.

Our Advent anticipations are over. What we have been waiting for has finally arrived.

Christ arrives.

The Creator of the Universe enters into the human story as one of us—just like one of us. The goodness of creation is affirmed and incarnated.

Tonight, we witness once again the miracle of life.

The story never gets old.

An unwed teenage girl, pregnant; the father, uncertain but told by an angel with great certainty that what is is exactly what needs to be and to not be afraid.

In the story, it all happened so fast. Nine months in a few verses that end with Mary going into labor traveling to Bethlehem because of a census.

It wasn’t the best hotel, I don’t think. Luke doesn’t mention how many stars the ‘inn’ had on YELP, but only that the child was “laid in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”

No place for the child. No place for Mary and Joseph. No place.

So it goes in the story that while there was no place in the inn, shepherds found their way to the child. Notice where they were living? With their sheep, in the fields, the wilderness.

It is the wilderness where the glory of the Lord seems to happen. With Moses. With Elijah. And now with these shepherds, who were minding their business, literally, when an angel appeared to them, telling them first to not be afraid because they were about to be on the receiving end of the most joyful news in history.

Insert Linus from old Chuck Brown’s Christmas:

 “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 2:12 This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."

Bands of cloth and lying in a manger. Have you wondered what this would be in today’s world? Such a hypothetical question could be debated for hours, but no matter the conclusion, a child was born—into a world full of darkness, reeking of despair.

Notice the absence of animals? Chances are they were there, but there is no mention of them. Perhaps they were added later to further illuminate the absurdity of God’s love for us. Which is why the angels start singing for the third time. The song sung to the shepherds in their field was:

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!"

In that tune carries a liberating note that we mustn’t overlook. The angel first came to Zechariah, next Mary, next Joseph, all of whom had roles to play in the coming of Christ—but then, shepherds. And these third shift folx weren’t even the ones who owned the sheep.

Why them? To put it plainly: because God chooses them. IT has nothing to do with what they have done. And it clearly can’t be who they are—unless “who they are” is nothing at all, for this same Jesus whom they will rush to worship shall fill his own feast hall with the poor and maimed and lame and blind, with those who travel the highways and lurk in the hedges. The God of the Lord’s Glory and the God born of flesh are of the same notion, right?

Which is why we are here tonight.

Tonight is about the good tidings of great joy…for all people—that unto us a savior is born. All the people includes all the people—even us. The shepherds represent everyone—including us—they represent all the nameless, all the working folx, the great wheeling population of the whole world.

Tonight, it is about a child, yes. But it is more than that, too. It is about the way this child unites the heavens and the earth with a vision of peace and goodwill for All peoples.

Tonight is about Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus. But tonight is also about the shepherds and us. The shepherds—the people without names or position or repute or privilege—us. The story is about God coming to a no-place, to a no-named people at an obscured time in human history. Tonight, we read a familiar story to remind ourselves that we can be like the shepherds. They are us in this story. Because in the ordinariness of life came an angel of God to declare to some rather ordinary people, the most excellent news ever recorded in human history.

Tonight is about our ordinary lives being interrupted by the extraordinary gift of a child. So we are the ones frightened by the sudden burst of immediate divinity. Our stomachs contract. Our hands fly up in front of our faces. We, probably like them, shepherds, expect the Holy to show up at Church…but not in the ordinariness of our lives. Yet it is in a manger where God shows up. Whenever we think we have God figured out, God surprises. Always.

Why tonight? Because God continues to interrupt our lives with the impossible. Because tonight, like the shepherds back then, needed a word of good news. Like the shepherds keeping watch at night, we need a word during our own darkness that the Light is born unto us today, tomorrow, and forever from here on out. Tonight, we need to hear the familiar story and listen to the angel declare once more, “Your Savior is born. Your Savior is here and very near. Nevermore shall you be ignorant of God and God’s deep love for you because I will give you signs for dinging that love. Look, the Divine is a baby, wrapped in plain baby clothing—lying in the humblest of homes, a manger.”

Why tonight? Because tonight, we need to hear how unto us a child is born, the Son of God, The Human One, who will show us once more how not to live separated from the Love of God. In this Child, we will come to dwell in the fullness of God. In this child will we find our True Self.

Tonight is about Life and Light. It is about God interrupting the ordinary and choosing us to help bring about God’s reign. It is about the manger declaring that God is with us, that God chooses us, and that God is cradling us. We sing tonight, with the stars in the sky, and the angels in heaven, “Glory to God in the highest of heavens and peace to the people with whom God is pleased!”

Just like God chose the shepherds.

The plain and nameless—whose every name God knows by heart.

You.

And me.

All of us. 

All of the people.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Word

13Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance,

and the young men and the old shall be merry.

I will turn their mourning into joy,

I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. ~Jeremiah 31.13

Word.

As in “Hear the word of the Holy One…,” from the prophet Jeremiah.

Word.

Those words are beautiful. They are. I need Jeremiah’s word to point me to the promises of the Holy One.

But today, I need this word from Jesus in Matthew:

²⁸ “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. ²⁹ Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ³⁰ For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

I think that a few of my clergy friends need this word, too.

Like those pastoring small churches who aren’t only preparing a word to preach but they are also scrubbing toilets, vacuuming carpets, and printing bulletins for tomorrow night. Or the pastor who was determined not to get sick again this holiday season, but the extra services and additional visits caught up to her. Or the pastors who are human.

Yup, human. Who have good days and bad days. Or days like today when we need a word of encouragement.

This statue of Jesus is across the street from the Roman Catholic church in town. Even though this Jesus is weathered and worn, his word remains: come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

I need this word today.

Tomorrow I’m looking to the words about a Savior born unto us.

The Word who was, is, and will always be, bringing us to that place of deep peace.

The Word who knows me and still offers the words, “Come to me…”

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Love

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”
― Lao Tzu

Love.

Last night was our “Blue Christmas” service.

If you are unfamiliar with such a service, this description might be helpful:

Welcome to this “Blue Christmas” service. For some, memories of past experiences and the pain of present experiences and situations can become overwhelming. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or New Year’s Eve can be tough and a reminder of the challenges in our lives. In this service, we invite you to listen. We invite you to pray. We invite you to sing. We invite you to meditate upon the pain and anguish you may bring—and we invite you to offer your pain to the Christ child. And we trust that you will find hope and comfort in knowing that you are not alone.

In his book, The Road Less Traveled, M. Scott Peck says the most considerable risk we can take is to love someone. It takes vulnerability, honesty, and courage. It also takes humility.

Love is beautiful. But it is also, well, challenging.

Last night we had the space to name the loss of love.

I love this poem by Mary Oliver.

“The Uses of Sorrow” (from The Bar Method):

Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

Love.

It is a gift. Even when it is lost, unrequited, or celebrated.

It is beautiful. Whether it celebrated on Valentine’s Day or lamented on Blue Christmas, love moves. Love is the only thing that chases the darkness away. Love is paradoxical. It also never fails.

Love is coming.

Get ready.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Promise

I want to make poems while thinking of
the bread of heaven and the
cup of astonishment; let them be

songs in which nothing is neglected,
not a hope, not a promise. I want to make poems
that look into the earth and the heavens
and see the unseeable. I want them to honor
both the heart of faith, and the light of the world;
the gladness that says, without any words, everything. 

from Everything by Mary Oliver

Promise.

A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not consume it.

It never will. No matter how dark the night gets, the light shines, even when we don’t recognize it.

God made a promise to our ancestors and kept it.

God made a promise to Mary and kept it.

God makes a promise to us and has and will keep it.

On the day with the longest night, the sun shined brightly. All-day. Yup, some probably wished for warmer weather and palm trees. But for me, I rejoiced in the promise of the light’s return. From now until June, the light will only grow brighter.

Do you need to hear the age-old promise of God’s love for us? Do you need to remember once more that God so loved the world that rather than condemn it, God took on flesh so that we might know life now and forever?

God promises never to leave or forsake us. I know this to be true. I imagine many of us do.

As I contemplated the way the light shined through my back door, it dawned on me that Advent will soon give way to Christmas. We will once again celebrate the birth of the Christ Child born in our midst. In the Christ Child Jesus, we see an alternative reality to the world. In Jesus, we see the embodiment of God’s promised love.

Promises.

^{54 "}He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

⁵⁵according to the promise he made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

On this the longest night, how fitting it is to read Mary’s Magnificat, full of hope and the promise of joy.

The promise is in the light—and we are preparing for the Light—the one who will continue to do the new thing God has promised to us.

The promise is before us. God’s great reversal is underway….

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day: Greetings

I greet you from the other side of sorrow and despair, with a love so vast and shattered it will reach you everywhere. ~Leonard Cohen

Greetings.

This is my parents’ home. The house I grew up in.

I love coming home. It never gets old. Especially this time of year.

The snow. The pine trees. The star on my dad’s flagpole.

There are some funny stories about that star. It used to be on top. How we ever get it up there escapes me. I think it involved a very tall ladder and my sister-in-law shimmying up the flagpole. It seemed like an impossible task, but somehow we did it.

Either way, the star is what greets us when we come home now. It shines bright in these dark days of early winter. It is comforting.

Much like this story:

Luke 1:26-38

²⁶In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, ²⁷to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. ²⁸And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” ²⁹But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. ³⁰The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. ³¹And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. ³²He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. ³³He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” ³⁴Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” ³⁵The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. ³⁶And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. ³⁷For nothing will be impossible with God.” ³⁸Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

As my friend and colleague Becky said in her post, this story never gets old. It has a home-y feeling to it. After all, it is the part when the angel declares to Mary, and to us for that matter, that God makes God’s home among us.

Which is good news because that means God is with us and for us!

So is the star on my parents' flagpole.

It is a greeting that says, “Do not be afraid. You are home. Rest. All will be well.”

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Singing

The only thing better than singing is more singing. Ella Fitzgerald.

 Singing.

We went singing last night.

Well, Christmas caroling.

It is one of my favorite ‘traditions’ my church does each Christmas season. Carloads of us go from one house to another, ringing sleigh bells and singing with great exultation. Thanks be to God for our stellar choir director and members who help drown out folks like me. It is usually cold, but the warmth we bring to those we sing to and to one another is worth it.

Last night I was asked, “What was your favorite part about caroling tonight?”

I was between meatball bites, and I had some time to think about it.

Finally, it came to me.

The singing.

So profound, right?

I mean the singing of those we visit. When they start singing it is as if they are gifting us, or at least me, with the Christmas spirit. Suddenly I am the recipient of joy.

Still, I mean something else.

Two different times last night, people who live on the ‘memory units’ of nursing homes started singing with us. It moved me. It always does—just like when I pray with folks who have memory loss but they will join me in the Lord’s Prayer, or “Jesus Loves Me.” Like soil science, when it comes to medicine and psychology, I am no expert. What I can comment on is what I see and feel—and what I saw last night and felt the remainder of the evening—was a deep sense of comfort, peace, and love. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but in the singing, the Love we are preparing for came forth. Glazed over eyes quickly had a sparkle, a hint of childlike faith, return to them even if but for only a moment.

Singing.

I’m not very good at it. But it isn’t about being good, or knowing if you're a soprano or alto (though I'm told that helps). It is about expressing our gratitude for how God brings us back home to one another and to God’s self. It is about singing and rejoicing about the ways in which God saved us, saves us, and will continue to save us.

Last night, God did it through...

Singing.

Take time and do some singing friends. Sing with the radio; Sing with your kiddos or grandkids, or sing by yourself. Either way, sing and give thanks for the gifts God has given to you.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Light

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.”
― Leonard Cohen

Light.

Some theologians have said this about the Incarnation:

"Jesus did not come to change the mind of God about humanity (it did not need changing)! Jesus came to change the mind of humanity about God" or even more succinctly as "God does not love us because we are that good, God loves us because God is good."

Jesus, for John, is the revelation of God’s love, and so the imitatio dei then becomes an imitatio Christi, an imitation of Jesus (Marcus Borg).

The light we are waiting for will be a gentle revealing kind. Not one that burns or blinds us into shame or guilt. The light shines not because of appeasement, but because of love.

Why are we so resistant to this grace, mercy, and love?

I wonder if it is because we don’t delve deep into our own darkness. I wonder if our hesitation and resistance is because we’ve not been shown how to do this difficult, but transformative work. Instead of instilling into our developing psyche a low anthropology, we need to encourage the exploration of our selves. We teach how we are full of light--as are all things in creation.

Brene Brown says it better and differently when she writes, “Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.”

God moved toward us in the incarnation. Not away. God did so in a way to rescue us, not to condemn us. In the world, and in us, God sees greatness—a light worth shining. Advent is that season we trim our wicks and tilt them toward the Light that’s always been and will always be. Indeed, we are not windows, but lamps in a world consumed and fascinated with darkness.

So, beautiful and beloved child of God…

Let

Your

LIGHT

Shine.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Repent

“But the man who is not afraid to admit everything that he sees to be wrong with himself, and yet recognizes that he may be the object of God's love precisely because of his shortcomings, can begin to be sincere. His sincerity is based on confidence, not in his own illusions about himself, but in the endless, unfailing mercy of God.”
― Thomas Merton

Repent.

“Be earnest, therefore, and repent.”

This line comes from a larger text about responding to Jesus.

Knocking. Listening to Christ’s voice.

A voice that is continually calling out to us, inviting us back, and extending grace. Christ speaks honestly, truthfully, and bluntly. The Christ does so pastorally, prophetically, and poetically. The One who knocks wants to come in and dine with us because Christ loves us.

To live as Christ, we must check ourselves and repent.

Repent.

Which leads to transformation and restoration.

But to change the world and all that is wrong with it, we must begin with the things that separate ourselves from God, neighbor, and, well, us. Once we name this in us, we will be able to join in on the movement of re-creation with others. As I eluded to above, repentance, I think, is not interested in singling out scapegoats and punishing them. Instead, it calls whole communities to engage in the work of repair and reconciliation without forgetting their own responsibility for the way things are.

Jesus mentioned repentance in Revelation 3, which is followed by this verse: “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

Jesus calls, it is up to us to listen and respond, returning to the One who waits for us.

Tecumseh does an excellent job of watching both what’s outside, as well as his reflection. When he was a puppy, like most pups do, he would bark and growl at his reflection. Tecumseh doesn’t do that as much anymore. Instead, he sits for hours and watches the neighborhood. Usually, it is pretty quiet. Occasionally, he will let me know what is going on outside. I've noticed that when he first sits down to observe out the window, he bows his head a little, and his ears go back. I can tell he is letting his eyes adjust but is attuned to what's on the other side by using his ears. Basically, to see outside fully, he must see past himself--which takes time getting used to his reflection while depending on listening for what's on the other side.

Repentance is like Tecumseh watching himself and the world through the window. We must wrestle with our true selves [our false self's reflection] while also paying attention to the happenings around us—but instead of responding with empty woofs and howls, we must do the work of justice and peace.

Listen. Watch. Pray. Eat.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Compassion

“When we give cheerfully and accept gratefully, everyone is blessed.”
― Maya Angelou

Compassion.

We all need it.

Sometimes, it runs out, or we have limits.

Still, everyone needs compassion.

Begin by looking at someone. But look beyond what they are wearing and their outward personality. Still, look deeper. Beyond the self they’ve created—what is known as the ego. Now, keep looking deeper. Go out past your stereotypes, prejudices, and assumptions—the ego that stands in our way from seeing the other as human.

Then, beyond our attempts at self-preservation and the backpack full of self-defenses, we will meet each other. Really meet each other. The way God in Christ met the world.

Our compassion may waver, but God’s is a stronghold.

Where we fail—by mocking people who are different than us; by adults bullying young people via social media; by being passive-aggressive to one who hurt us—God is faithful:

⁸The Holy One is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.⁹The Holy One is good to all, and his/her compassion is over all that s/he has made. ~Psalm 145

Compassion.

Have it.

Receive it.

Give it.

Having compassion can lead to empathy—and in that move towards each other, we also move closer to the heart of the Triune God.

Remember what Plato said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Work

“The older I get, the more I meet people, the more convinced I am that we must only work on ourselves, to grow in grace. The only thing we can do about people is to love them.”
― Dorothy Day

Work.

Revelation 3:1-6

¹"And to the angel of the church in Sardis write: These are the words of him who has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars:

"I know your works; you have a name of being alive, but you are dead. ²Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is on the point of death, for I have not found your works perfect in the sight of my God.

The picture above isn’t from my garden. Nor is it as appealing to look at as say a sunset or a picture of my dog, Tecumseh. What makes this picture noteworthy at this time of the year is the work that isn’t seen.

The work I’m referring to here isn’t the work the farmers are doing now: machine maintenance and prep work for the spring. Though, this most certainly would work for the word of the day (see what I did there?). Instead, I’m talking about the work that is happening beneath my garden (& perhaps the field).

Apparently, there are millions of microorganisms in the soil year-round. Part of their work is to push the nutrient cycle forward even in their death. I love what one soil scientist said about this process: “There are so many more creatures in the soil than the many we already know about. We know these countless others exist and that they maintain important functions in the soil system, but we don’t know who they are or what they do. That is pretty astonishing!"

It is astonishing. It's as if the soil knows that to produce the best crops or fruits or whatever, it must work on itself. So it does. And thanks be to God that science, and soil scientists, can explain that work! 

Work.

In my experience on more than one occasion, I have found myself stuck. Or, if I wasn’t stuck, I felt like the field above looks—like nothing is happening, let alone something moving me in a positive direction.

That’s the thing about God—God is always at work, moving us towards the place of wholeness even when we may not see it…or feel it.

Knowing this is also why we must keep working for justice and peace. We are co-creators with the Creator who has promised never to forsake us—who has gifted us with the Christ—who has been, who is, and who will always be working in our midst.

As we prepare for the coming of Christ, there is work to be done. We must continue the work in making room in our hearts for the return of the Light; we must continue to work with each other in seeing that those who are marginalized are brought to the table; we must work with God in God's restoration of all things. 

It is slow work. But as one mystic said, we must trust the slow work of God. In the meantime...

while we are waiting, may we be astonished by the subtle reminders of God’s work in our world…

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day-Generation

“Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.”

― Homer, The Iliad

The Morning Psalm 

Psalm 102

1   Hear my prayer, O LORD;
          let my cry come to you.
2   Do not hide your face from me
          in the day of my distress.
     Incline your ear to me;
          answer me speedily in the day when I call.

3   For my days pass away like smoke,
          and my bones burn like a furnace.
4   My heart is stricken and withered like grass;
          I am too wasted to eat my bread.
5   Because of my loud groaning
          my bones cling to my skin.
6   I am like an owl of the wilderness,
          like a little owl of the waste places.
7   I lie awake;
          I am like a lonely bird on the housetop.
8   All day long my enemies taunt me;
          those who deride me use my name for a curse.
9   For I eat ashes like bread,
          and mingle tears with my drink,
10  because of your indignation and anger;
          for you have lifted me up and thrown me aside.
11  My days are like an evening shadow;
          I wither away like grass.

12  But you, O LORD, are enthroned forever;
          your name endures to all generations.
13  You will rise up and have compassion on Zion,
          for it is time to favor it;
          the appointed time has come.
14  For your servants hold its stones dear,
          and have pity on its dust.
15  The nations will fear the name of the LORD,
          and all the kings of the earth your glory.
16  For the LORD will build up Zion;
          he will appear in his glory.
17  He will regard the prayer of the destitute,
          and will not despise their prayer.
18  Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
          so that a people yet unborn may praise the LORD:
19  that he looked down from his holy height,
          from heaven the LORD looked at the earth,
20  to hear the groans of the prisoners,
          to set free those who were doomed to die;
21  so that the name of the LORD may be declared in Zion,
          and his praise in Jerusalem,
22  when peoples gather together,
          and kingdoms, to worship the LORD.

23  He has broken my strength in midcourse;
          he has shortened my days.
24  “O my God,” I say, “do not take me away
          at the mid-point of my life,
     you whose years endure
          throughout all generations.”

25  Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth,
          and the heavens are the work of your hands.
26  They will perish, but you endure;
          they will all wear out like a garment.
     You change them like clothing, and they pass away;
27       but you are the same, and your years have no end.
28  The children of your servants shall live secure;
          their offspring shall be established in your presence.