Rising From the Manger

 

Today is the second day of Christmas and in some parts of the world known as Boxing Day, a day that originated in Great Britain centuries ago, in which the wealthy gave gifts to those who provided them a service, not just servants in their homes, but also postal workers, rubbish collectors and others. It is a way to care and give thanks for service. Who are you grateful for, those nameless ones who help you throughout the year? The bagger at the grocery store, the dry cleaner and his wife, the delivery person who always makes sure the package that they leave is perfectly hidden from anyone passing by.

I’ve been thinking about a lot about this day of generosity that comes right after Christmas. We woke up yesterday and unwrapped our presents, a symbol of God’s gift of love given to us in the Bethlehem manger. We celebrated Jesus’ birth with phone calls, good food, and a day of rest.

Now, what?

The great Christian mystic Howard Thurman writes:

The Work of Christmas

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.

The beginning of John’s gospel says:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being  in him was life,^[a] and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

This has been such a difficult year for us all. But here is what is true: Nothing stops God’s coming into the world. No virus is strong enough, no rage is hot enough, no depression is deep enough, to keep the light from entering our lives and our world. That is what we remember. The light shines in the dark and difficult places of our lives, and it has not overcome it.

Now, you and I are bearers of this light. It shines bright by how we live. Are we willing to engage in the work that began at Christmas, that has now been handed to us to continue through Christ? Are you willing to find the lost, to heal the broken, To feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace, to make music in the heart.

We cradle the Christ child when we care for others. Make no mistake, people are watching us, to see how our lives reflect this Life Light of Christ. How will you carry forth this light into the world? How will your actions give off the radiant Christ Light that gives life to all?

Good King Wenceslas is a familiar carol about the benevolent ruler who provided for the needy. The carol speaks of him doing this on the Feast of St. Stephen, which is celebrated today. Stephen is the first Christian martyr, known for his care of the poor.

a preacher from the 12th century wrote this about Wenceslas:

But his deeds I think you know better than I could tell you; for, as is read in his Passion, no one doubts that, rising every night from his noble bed, with bare feet and only one chamberlain, he went around to God's churches and gave alms generously to widows, orphans, those in prison and afflicted by every difficulty, so much so that he was considered, not a prince, but the father of all the wretched.

 

The carol speaks of him and his page coming across a poor man looking for firewood in a cold harsh winter’s night. Wenceslas tells his page to get food and drink and firewood so the two of them can bring them to the poor man’s home, even though it is not close by. The two set off but the night turns even colder and the page begins to tire from the walk and the cold. Wenceslas tells him to follow in his footsteps, placing his feet precisely where Wenceslas placed his. The page felt the warmth left from Wenceslas’ step and they were able to finish their journey to the poor man’s home.

 Wenceslas let his light shine in the darkness and others found warmth and life from it. And we are called to do the same.

As the final stanza of the hymn reminds us:

Therefore, Christian folk, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing.

As we rise from the manger, may we offer the Light of Christ to all we encounter through our acts of generosity, kindness, and justice-making.

We Don't Always Get What We Want...

 

My mother died unexpectedly this spring. This season has been filled with so many memories that she made for us. She made it so very special. Each year, the neighbors knew the holiday season had started when my mother strung these red plastic bells outside the house. And then she decorated, making many of the decorations herself, including a large creche scene she made which is now one of the first things I unpack every year.

She’d fill the house with fresh cut boughs, so we looked like an indoor forest. The smell was divine.

But every year she would say the same thing: It’s been a rough year, don’t be disappointed on Christmas morning.

She was a single mother of three girls and worked hard to keep a rough over our head. So we all prepared ourselves for a lean Christmas.

And then, Christmas morning would dawn, and my sisters and I were always so stunned at all the presents that overflowed from beneath the Christmas tree.

Lean Christmas?! It never looked lean!

And then we would unwrap our gifts. There would be sock and underwear from JC Penney’s. A new nightgown from Woolworths. Gloves and scarfs and hats. A sweater knitted by an aunt. A new pair of Grandma Spence’s knitted slippers. Oranges in our stockings. And also a couple of toys or games that were on our Christmas wish list.

It never felt like a lean Christmas. We might not have been given everything on our list. But we were given what we needed. And there was so much love and joy as we unwrapped our gifts and held them up for everyone to see.

I didn’t realize it then, but my mother was teaching us a lot about Christmas. At Christmas, as the Gospel of Mick Jagger would tell us, we don’t always get what we want. We get what we need.

I think of what people were yearning for at the time of Jesus’ birth. The Hebrew people were tired of being oppressed. The scriptures had promised them a Savior, a Messiah who would bring them liberation. They were waiting for that wonderful, counselor, mighty God.

That’s what they wanted. But what did they get?

A baby, wrapped in a manger. This is how God came to be with us and offer liberation. Emmanuel. God with us.

The Savior didn’t come in the way many had hoped for.

The Savior came defenseless and vulnerable. God with us required tenderness, kindness and care. What a strange way to come to free the oppressed. What a crazy way to bring righteousness and justice to a broken world.

Yet, this is exactly what he brought us. If we could only follow the lessons he brought us.

Pull out your Christmas wish list. What is it you are wanting this Christmas?

Now, take a look at it again. What is it you need this Christmas?

May this Christmas you find growing within you renewed hope.  An increase in your love of God and neighbor. A tenderness that you have never felt before. And may you express all this with generous kindness and care.

How silently, how silently the wondrous gift is given

So God imparts to human hearts all blessings found in heaven.

As we listen for the voices of angels and watch for the star, may we find Christ being born once more in our lives and in our world and may God give you what you need this Christmas.

PINING AND PREPARING

 

Hallelujah! I give thanks to God with everything I've got—Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation. God's works are so great, worth a lifetime of study—endless enjoyment!
Splendor and beauty mark God's craft; whose generosity never gives out, whose miracles are God's memorial—this God of Grace, this God of Love.
(Psalm 111, from The Message)


It feels like the work of the Holy Spirit, that I am starting this 
Advent Journey, this walk to the Bethlehem manger, with this scripture reading. Because my world has gotten really small these past nine months. I used to see God’s works all the time: when I flew up to Montana, when I drove through Wyoming, and I hiked through Colorado and Utah. God’s works were so evident and so great and filled me with endless enjoyment.

But all these months of avoiding COVID has shrunk my world. And it is really hard. I miss simple things, like whenever I had trouble getting past writers block, I would head to a Starbucks and work there. Mind you, I don’t drink coffee, but there was something about the atmosphere that always helped me focus.

I miss movie dates.

I miss meeting friends at a restaurant.

I miss seeing family in person.

What are things you have missed over these past months?

I confess that I am getting a bit impatient in the face of these restrictions, and when I get impatient I get a little cranky. Maybe you are too.

And all those feelings are really messing with what I crave this time of year: the anticipation and joy of the coming of Christ at Christmas. I mean, how am I supposed to feel joy when I can’t gather with people I love? Where is celebration to be found if I can’t invite the conference staff to our home for the annual white elephant party? How can I experience that profound peace if I can’t look forward to raising my candle in a dimly lit church and sing Silent night together?

And there is that scripture that literally fell into my lap this morning:

Hallelujah! I give thanks to God with everything I've got—Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation. God's works are so great, worth a lifetime of study—endless enjoyment!
Splendor and beauty mark God's craft; whose generosity never gives out, whose miracles are God's memorial—this God of Grace, this God of Love.
(Psalm 111, from The Message)

How right it is to ponder this scripture as we begin our Advent journey this year. God didn’t wait until all was right with the world to enter it. God didn’t wait until disease was eradicated to come to us. God didn’t wait until political infighting found resolution, God didn’t wait until oppression and injustice were vanquished before making a home with us.

It was into the very mess of the world, into a country that was being held captive by Rome, to a people who had known slavery and oppression, to a family that knew scandal because of an unplanned pregnancy, into all of this, God came.

And so God will again break into our world. And at the start of Advent, we are called to make our way to the manger to experience yet again Emmanuel, which means God with us.

As you make your way to Bethlehem, as your heart prepares him room, may you open your eyes and hearts to God’s grace, God’s love, God’s miracles. A God whose generosity never runs out. In the midst of these very days we are living, may you give thanks to God with everything you've got

And may you sing:

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

Where Is Jesus To Be Found

This week, @sharifawrites asked this question on Twitter: “I have been imagining where Jesus would be found if he were here (in the United States). Where do you think He would be and why?” The responses had me in tears as I held these word-pictures in my heart:

*Probably walking to the local church to speak to his people. But he’d stop at the spot by the Family Dollar where the homeless amputee, sleeps at the corner.

*He’d be late to church because he could not simply pass the man sleeping at the corner. Saw his face and knew his whole life and was moved by compassion to be with him.

*I think he’d stop and heal the man and then the man would follow him to church and the church would scratch their heads and feel uncomfortable and Jesus would tell them all a parable that would keep them seeking him for months.

*In our crumbling rural towns acting as the designated driver at bar close and the caretaker to the elderly whose children have left them for the draw of the city.

*I imagine Jesus: Asking “who do people say that I am?” on the Florida or Texas coasts (since he loves both water and talking to problematic religious experts). Hosting the BEST outdoor dinner parties. Living on the “wrong side of town.” Telling LOTS of parables about greed.

*At the border. Simultaneously weeping with families and calling out the complicit ones. And maybe in my house doing the same.

*He would be found comforting every scared and hungry child. He would wipe their tears and hug them until the tears stopped. Then He would feed them and tuck them in a warm and clean bed. The children would wake up tomorrow with a sense of hope.

Here is my own thoughts: He'd gently rub the deep indents that have been created on the faces of healthcare workers by PPEs at the end of their shifts and their faces would be simply glowing when he finished.

How about you? If Jesus was walking around the US right now, where do you think he’d be found? I hope you write down your thoughts in the comments!

Here is one final post someone wrote:

*Is it possible that Jesus would be in places that would surprise all of us in this thread, and not just in the places we’ve judged to be most in need? And is it also possible that, while imagining the “other” places he might be, we’re forgetting that he is right here?

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

With love,

Bishop Karen

The Dream of a Common Language

 Today, the United States elected a new president. Looking at the vote tallies, I am struck by what a divided nation we are. It is as if there are two (or more) understandings of the US, and the chasm between the two is wide and deep.  I have heard from people who are no longer speaking with parents, who have unfriended friends, and who have been maligned by those who live in that “other” America.

How do we close the chasm? How do we share a vision for an America that is for everyone?

The poet Adrienne Rich wrote about “The Dream of a Common Language”. The poet felt that poetry, art, and feminist ideas could create a common language to unite a fractured humanity. As a Christian, I, too, yearn for a common language. This language, for a Jesus-follower, is Love.

Love is the language that helps us enter into another’s worldview.

Love is the force that causes us to open our hearts to another’s pain.

Love is the energy that drives us to build a better world.

Love keeps us growing, pushes our world to expand beyond our comfort zone to include those who don’t live, love, or look like us.

Whether you are cheering the election results or feeling despair, learn the language of Love. Lean into this Love as you greet your neighbor who had the other candidate’s signs on their lawns. Listen with love. Bring your full self into this moment, and step into Love’s demands.

One of the poems in Rich’s book holds up a model for us of how we begin to speak a common language together:

“I choose to love this time for once
with all my intelligence”

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

Are You Running on an Empathy Deficit?

 This is the Sunday before the presidential election. The United States is feeling more like the Divided States of America as we approach the ballot box. Sides have been drawn. Chasms have replaced communities, separating us from the humanity we share. Instead of being together with each other, we have “othered” one another.

We are experiencing an empathy deficit as a people, and it is literally killing us.

Empathy is the ability to enter into the joys, pains, and experiences of another. It does so fully, not from our frame of reference, but from theirs. Without empathy, we are unable to understand another’s experience and therefore give it validity. As a result, injustice increases and communication breaks down.

A lack of empathy enables one to treat another as an object, meant for one’s own pleasure or power. Sexual harassment/abuse fails to understand the impact one’s behavior has on the one being abused. It has no concept of how the behavior shames and harms. It can take years for an abused one to finally name the behavior. Someone who asks why it took so long for the abuse to be named fails to have empathy for the one who was harmed, to note the visible and invisible scars that create a deafening silence.

Perhaps more than any issue, race relations in the United States provides evidence of the empathy deficit we face. Whites have difficulty seeing beyond the privilege their race affords to seeing those whose experience is much different. Racial discrimination is often discounted or denied. There is an inability or lack of will to open oneself up to the real lived experience of another.

A recent Saturday night live skit was about the lack of will we have to be empathetic. A “new product” promised five hours of empathy. The main character couldn’t bring himself to take the product. Why?

Empathy requires a willingness to be disturbed by the reality of another. We can no longer rest in the slumber of our own comfortable world because we see the impact our living has on others. Empathy forces us to ask questions of why: why is there injustice? Why are there hungry people? Why doesn’t everyone have access to health care, housing, good schools? And when we ask these questions, we recognize that the answer lies with our willingness to work with those who are not like us to create a more just and equitable world.

Are you running on an empathy deficit?

James Fowler was a seminary professor who articulated that, much like human development, there is a faith development he called, “Stages of Faith”. There are six stages of faith, although Fowler believed that most people never get beyond stage three, in which faith conforms to authority: any conflicts with one’s beliefs are rejected because these inconsistencies are too threatening to live with.

Stage six is where faith opens us to empathy—the ability to enter into the world view of another and be moved to action by what we learn. According to Fowler, stage six is seldom reached, quite possibly because it is preceded by stage five. This stage rarely is achieved before midlife. It requires one to be aware of the limits of one’s own logic and begin to accept that there can be multiple truths, even within the same sacred story. Stage five invites us to lean into ambiguity.

It is time for our churches to become faith development centers. Faith development doesn’t end with confirmation or membership. It is a lifetime commitment to growing into a deeper love of God and neighbor. What are you doing to grow your faith? What stage are you in? How does it fill you with empathy? And how does your empathy move you to create a more just and equitable world?

How will it inform the decisions you make on election day?

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

Learning to Love Ourselves in Order to Love God and Neighbor

I don’t think we in the church are doing a good job of helping people learn to love themselves. Which makes me wonder if we really know how to love others, and especially love God.

Seriously.

I say that because of what Jesus reveals to us in this week’s Gospel lesson: He tells the Pharisees that the greatest commandment is this: “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ (Matthew 22:37-39)

The two most important commandments have to do with love, and they are connected to each other. If we love God with all of who we are, we will love our neighbor, who is made in the image of God. AND we will commit to loving our neighbor with the same care and fullness that we love ourselves.

One look at the world around us, particularly in the midst of a highly divisive election, and the first thing glaringly evident is that love is in short supply. But, even without the stark contrasts that election fever brings, one cannot help noting that love is not clearly evident in how we treat our neighbor through the choices we make and the words we speak.

Maybe, just maybe this is all due to the fact that we don’t really love ourselves and it is easier to take it out on others than allow the self-hatred to further corrode our souls.

I want our churches to be places where people see themselves as God sees them: as beautiful reflections of the Divine.

I want churches to be places where people discover what unconditional love and acceptance feels like, and that you receive it not based on some system of merit but simply because you are you, a one-of-a-kind gift of God to the world.

I want churches to be places where people discover that power is not the same thing as love.

I want churches to be the place where everyone learns that God loves them with a love that will never let them go.

I believe that when we lean into God’s love for us, we can learn to love ourselves. And when we love ourselves, we can truly love God and neighbor in ways that are revolutionary:

--We are unable to allow systems and institutions degrade those around us.

--We become uncomfortable with our own comforts when others are without.

--We make choices—including who we vote for—that demonstrate our love of neighbor, particularly those who are on the margins, who suffer, and who are far from centers of power.

--We shift the values that guide how we move in the world from “I/me” to “We/us”.

Imagine a world where love is the North Star that guides us home to right relationship with God, with neighbor, and with self.

So, friends, let’s help our churches become Love Centers!

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

A CITIZEN OF THE STATE AND A FOLLOWER OF JESUS

 I have been reflecting on this week’s Gospel lesson, Matthew 22:15-22. It is when the Pharisees, along with the Herodians, try to trap Jesus by first flattering him and then asking a question which was, for them, a lose/lose question for Jesus: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” Jesus recognizes the trap and asks:

“Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. ²⁰Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” ²¹They answered, “The emperor’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” (Matthew 22:19-21)

I confess, I have mainly preached this text for Stewardship Sundays. But studying this scripture in light of a contentious election season has me asking more questions and, as a result, seeing new meaning in the scripture.

As I look at my ballot, I know it is a right and a duty as a citizen of the United States to vote. There is a responsibility to know the issues facing the nation and my community and the various ballot measures that seek to address them.

As a follower of Jesus, my vote is informed by his teaching. I am called to engage the State through my vote in a way that not only betters my life, but to consider how my vote can better the lives of others as well. I don’t vote only for my self-interests but for the larger body of which I am a part.

My first obedience is to God who made this world, all living things, and the human family. While I support a government with my taxes and with my engagement, there is a greater loyalty that guides me. It is what causes me to vote for those things that will protect the earth, care for the most vulnerable, provide health care for all, and insure that our young people have a quality education, no matter where they live. I pay my taxes faithfully so that these things can be a reality.

How about you? What does it mean to give to the government what is the government’s and give to God what is God’s? How will your loyalty as a follow of Jesus inform your vote and the world God desires for all of us?

Be well. Stay safe. Wear a mask.

Rejoice?

It feels like every day offers us a new assault: another person we know diagnosed with COVID-19, word that someone we know has died, an experience of yet another instance of racism, seeing incivility take over the public square and public discourse, another quick change of plans because of the rise in COVID cases, another business closed, feeling the pang of separation from those we love not only because of distance but because of the political division of this historical moment…

We are all tired, depressed, angry and carrying individual and communal trauma of these past 7 months.

This morning I read the week’s lectionary (Philippians 4:1-13 ) and there was Paul admonishing me,

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”

Oh, come on now.

Joy and rejoicing certainly feel in short supply these days. And it is hard to muster it at all sometimes. Then I remember a little bit more about what Paul was doing when he said these words. He was not in the middle of a hymn sing or a church potluck. He had not just returned from a reunion with followers of Jesus or a revival at which more people chose to follow the carpenter from Nazareth.

He wrote these words from prison. He wrote about rejoicing from a prison cell. He wrote these words from a prison cell wondering if his execution was near. In the midst of persecution and pain, what does he advise? “Rejoice.”

At a time when some of us are forgetting what joy looks like, I invite you to reflect on Paul’s words. What does it mean for you to rejoice? What might be a cause for rejoicing? How does rejoicing in God’s love and presence help us draw even closer to God?

One of the ways I am trying to do this is to find joy in the little things:

· The tinkling of a wind chime outside my window

· The feel of new bath towels (the first in almost two decades!) as they envelop me

· The warm sun on my face, and the way the wind, with a hint of coolness, caresses my arms

· The smell of something baking in the oven

· How seeing a friend in person—even masked and socially distanced—fills me up with energy I hadn’t realize I was missing

· The way the leaves are changing color each day, and watching some already release themselves and fall to the ground

· Taking a walk and hearing the giggles of children nearby

There is a passage from Alice Walker’s “The Color Purple” that reminds me of how God is always placing in front of us small joys:

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.' 'What it do when it pissed off?' I ast. 'Oh, it make something else. People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back.' 'Yeah?' I say. 'Yeah,' she say. 'It always making little surprises and springing them on us when us least expect.' 'You mean it want to be loved, just like the bible say.' 'Yes, Celie,' she say. 'Everything want to be loved.”

May you look, and find, those small joys God has put in your life today. May it be a source of rejoicing. May it cause you to fall more deeply in love with God and those around you.

Be well. Stay safe. Wear a mask.

Sitting Beside the Still Waters

We have been living with tremendous anxiety, tension, and burdens over the past six months. This past week compounded all of that: the difficulties of moving from an in-person to an on-line life, the burden of being both a work-from-home parent and a virtual classroom assistant, the trauma of a lifetime of racist indignities and experiencing it again on the national stage, and hearing the President’s and First Lady’s COVID-19 diagnoses and wondering what it means for the country and for oneself.

I don’t know about you, but I am bone weary. Sleep eludes me. And there is an underlying anxiety that I can’t seem to shake.

How are YOU doing?

These are difficult days. I have seen so much public displays of anger this week as I grocery shopped, got gas, or drove through a parking lot. The faces of people I look at via Zoom look drawn and tired. The uncertainty of a nation in crisis is weighing heavily.

I worry about how we will get through the coming weeks and months when so many are already feeling so stressed and stretched.

Recently, I have turned to meditating on the Psalms as a way to ground myself for each day’s challenges. I invite you, right now, to take a deep breath. Really breathe. Slowly, deeply (Jeff Rainwater has shared with conference staff that there really is something called zoom apnea. Apparently, we unconsciously hold our breath or breathe shallowly when we are engaging a screen).

Remember the beginning of Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. God makes me lie down in green pastures; God leads me beside still waters; God restores my soul.” Close your eyes and allow God’s Holy Spirit to guide you to that place that has always been a restorative balm for your weary soul. Imagine going to that place, and God helping you lie down. Now breathe in deeply again. Feel the stillness. Allow God to restore and renew you.

As the weather cools and the days shorten, we will need these spiritual resting places that we can visit, reconnect with God, and let God’s Spirit fill and empower us.

Always remember: you are not alone. These are unusual days, and while each of us experiences it differently, we are still traveling together through it.

Be well. Stay safe. Wear a mask.