A Candle In the Dark

 “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” (Isaiah 40: 1)

Saying “Happy Holidays” out of respect to the many religious traditions that exist in the United States makes some people’s blood boil: “How dare they cancel Christmas!” they exclaim. I wonder how these same individuals feel now that religious leaders in Bethlehem, Jerusalem, Galilee, and Jordan have “canceled” Christmas, stating that this year is not the time for festive celebrations when so many are suffering from the Israeli-Hamas war?

Real life has collided with our often saccharin and sanitized view of Christmas. We want to believe that this really is “the most wonderful time of the year.” That the angels’ song of “Peace on earth goodwill to all” is more than a wish. That children sleep sweetly in a “silent night”, uninterrupted by bombs or gunfire.

But there is no peace in Palestine this Christmas. In the fighting between Israel and Hamas, the number of women and children killed is shocking (the current death toll notes 1,200 Israelis and 17,177 Palestinians). Most of Gaza’s 2.3 million people are now homeless, trapped in the small region with little food, water, medical care, or shelter. This is a major humanitarian crisis.

There is no peace in Bethlehem this year.

Many religious organizations are encouraging those of us living around the world to join in solidarity with Palestinian Christians and forgo the usual festivities of the season. The General Board of Global Ministries of The United Methodist Church has encouraged churches to keep the second Advent candle (known as the Peace, or Bethlehem candle) to remain unlit, as a way for us to keep before us as well as in our hearts and prayers the suffering of those in the midst of war.

I admit I have struggled with this: the Advent wreath is a sign of hopeful waiting. It seems to me that at a time like this, we need to keep the light of Peace burning bright, calling us to seek peace in all actions, times, and places.

But to have the light unlit in the Advent wreath all Advent and into Christmas is a jarring reminder that there is no peace. It is a weekly reminder that millions are suffering from war and violence. Their cries echo silently around the sanctuary.

Rev. Sandy Olewine served for 10 years in the Holy Land. She shared this poem that moved me deeply:

 

As you prepare your breakfast, think of others

(do not forget the pigeon’s food).

As you conduct your wars, think of others

(do not forget those who seek peace).

As you pay your water bill, think of others

(those who are nursed by clouds).

As you return home, to your home, think of others

(do not forget the people of the camps).

As you sleep and count the stars, think of others

(those who have nowhere to sleep).

As you liberate yourself in metaphor, think of others

(those who have lost the right to speak).

As you think of others far away, think of yourself

(say: “If only I were a candle in the dark”).

— Mahmoud Darwish

 

May we each be a candle in the dark.

Happy New Year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

That’s right—happy new year! The first Sunday of Advent marks the beginning of the new year, liturgically speaking. During these weeks leading up to Christmas, we are invited to prepare our lives for the arrival of Jesus, the One called Emmanuel: God-With-Us. 

I like having this annual reminder to start again, to dig a little deeper, as I seek to grow closer to God and neighbor. What have I done this past year that’s hindered my spiritual development? Where has my love been in short supply? What habits have I acquired that have pushed Jesus out from the center of my life? 

“Prepare the way of the Lord!” cries Isaiah. What have I done that has made obstacles for God’s in-breaking in my life and our world?

Thank God for Advent. Tomorrow, we will light a single candle. In spite of winter’s long nights, this candle will burn bright, helping us focus on the things we can and need to do to prepare a place in our lives and world for the Christ Child. Each week, an additional candle will be lit, their light inviting us to this journey of preparation. 

May the days and weeks to come be a soulful new beginning  for you. May you discover more room in your heart for Christ and more love for others than you thought possible. Then, living more fully into God’s presence, may your life be a song to others, inviting them to experience “Glory to God in the highest and on earth, peace, goodwill to all.”

Why I Love Advent

This says it all:

Advent 4,5,6,and 7: Too Many Fires to Put Out?

Be still and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10

I have always found Advent one of the richest times for spiritual growth. So much of the season has signs and symbols which beg us to stop and ponder. Unfortunately, this week I had a hard time responding to the begging and didn’t do much stopping, and even less pondering.


I have learned from experience that NOT stopping and pondering can be disastrous. In 1992, I was invited to take an appointment in a local church. The appointment came at a surprise. As much as I love parish ministry, I had moved into campus ministry in 1985, and assumed that my local parish phase of ministry was over. Imagine my surprise when a district superintendent of the Cal-Nevada Annual Conference asked me to take Bethany UMC, in San Francisco!

I was worried that I had forgotten how to “do” parish ministry and pushed myself very hard those first few months of the appointment. So hard, in fact, that I wound up skimming on my spiritual disciplines in order to “do” more ministry.

Advent came and I thought I would take up the spiritual practice of lighting the Advent wreath every morning and have a short devotional before diving headlong into my day. Even before the first week was barely over, I began to grow distracted with the practice, finding more and more things that begged my attention as I prepared to head to church.

One day, I cut too many corners trying to pack everything in I needed to get done. I flew out the door to do an early bit of grocery shopping before heading to church. When I returned, I opened the garage door and thought I smelled smoke. I immediately thought of my 92 year old neighbor whose house was connected to mine, and worried that she had left something burning on her stove. As I went up the steps, I saw smoke—her place must be on fire! I grabbed a phone and dialed 911. I was put on hold (!) and as I waited I heard crackling. I turned into my dining room and saw that the table was in flames. The fire was in MY house! And there, at the very center of the table, was the culprit: my Advent wreath, now with all the candles melted down into the table…

God is so funny. Just the week before I had bought fire extinguishers for the parsonage, so knew exactly where it was and quickly put out the flames (five minutes later the phone rang. It was the fire department asking why I had called).
I learned a lesson that day. When God puts a sign or symbol before you, you had better stop and ponder, before it becomes a burning bush/dining room table!