Showing posts with label manger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label manger. Show all posts

Monday, December 28, 2020

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.

Wednesday, December 2, 2020

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

Saturday, December 28, 2019

The Ending of Innocence




The sanctuary—on this fourth day of Christmas--now looks a little worse for wear—while it was all spruced up for Advent and Christmas Eve, the poinsettias are beginning to wilt and the Christmas tree is beginning to let go of its pine needles. Wax from the Christmas Even candlelight service is still on the pews and carpet. The truth is, we feel that way, too. The anticipation of Christmas, the glory of Christmas Eve, and the excitement of Christmas Day has worn us down a bit.

It is interesting to read what happens from one chapter to the next in the Gospel of Matthew. Chapter one ends with a brief telling of Jesus’ birth. And then chapter two begins with the Wise Men from the East following the star to find Jesus, their journey interrupted by Herod who is so threatened by Jesus that he wants to know where he is located so he can have him killed. He enlists the aid of the Wise Men, but they betray him and don’t tell him where Jesus is to be found. Herod, in his rage, orders all boys under the age of two to be murdered, hoping that the act will include the killing of Jesus. But Joseph has been warned of Herod’s plans by an angel, and flees the violence by escaping to Egypt. While Jesus is spared, Matthew reminds us, it was as Jeremiah foretold:

“A voice was heard in Ramah,
    wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
    she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

Each year, I am startled by this violence, coming so close to the celebration of Jesus’ birth. How could we be proclaiming, “Joy to the world” and then read this text? Scholars call this reading the Slaughter of the Innocents. Perhaps, it should also be named the Ending of Innocence.

How tempting is it, to stay at the manger scene. Even though Jesus was born in a lowly stable, there was a host of characters to welcome him and to sing the wonders of his birth. We still sing about the holy night, of how he laid his sweet head in a manger, of how this cattle stall became a throne of glory. It is tempting to stay cooing at this child, to hold on to an innocent and naïve hope that all is right with the world. But just like the slaughter of the innocents, reality creeps in. All is NOT right in the world. There is violence and hatred and division. Some homes resemble battlefields, with broken and wounded lives. Individuals are weighed down by the unholy trinity of oppression, greed and injustice. The angels’ song of peace on earth has been drowned out by the discord found in our world.

Perhaps we need to have our innocence ended, so we can see the world’s brokenness for what it is and, as the Body of Christ, continue to bring love, healing, hope, justice and wholeness in the broken places of our world and lives.

Perhaps we need to see clearly where the hungry still wait for food, where children seek safe refuge, where those in prisons or those who are sick still wait for hope, where the oppressed are yearning for liberation. Until we dare to look honestly and critically at all the corners of our communities, there will continue to be wailing and loud lamentation.

It is time, my friends, to arise from the manger, shake off the dust, and roll up our sleeves. Truly, as Howard Thurman once said, the work of Christmas has begin.


Sunday, December 6, 2009

Advent 8: Growing the Family Tree

Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a Son, and shall call his name EMMANUEL, God with us.
Isaiah 7:14


This is the season when I am acutely aware of the geographical distance between me and my family of origin: both sisters live in the south now with their families, my Mum spends part of the year on Long Island (where I was raised) and in New Orleans with one of my sisters; Uncle Howie still lives in Nova Scotia, in the town where he and my Mum were raised; my dad and his family live in Washington state, and assorted cousins, cousins, and more cousins live throughout the northeast and Canada.
But at this time of year, I long to see them, to have a meal together, to share a game of cards (a nightly family activity), and most of all, to laugh with them.
A pastor’s life, however, requires that I stay put for the holidays. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I participate in a ministry decathlon of special services and events which, by the time I cross the finish line on December 26, leaves me filled spiritually but depleted physically and emotionally. As a result, even the lull between Christmas and New Years is not the greatest time to see family, unless they want to watch me nap!
This longing for family connecting is perhaps why I cherish putting up the many nativity sets I have collected over the years. Whenever I travel, I look for a set that reflects the culture of the country I am in. I have sets from Kenya, Mexico, Israel, and France, as well as sets from some of my favorite places in the US and Canada. I take my time setting them up, holding Mary and Joseph in my hands before setting them down on a shelf. I try to imagine them as they were 2000 years ago, wandering far from home, Mary beginning to enter labor with no loved ones present to assist, no familiar things around her to comfort her.
Once Mary and Joseph have been placed, out come the other pieces: shepherds, kings, peasants, and assorted animals all gather around them as the baby Jesus is laid in the midst of them. The nativity set becomes whole, all the characters connected, as the awe and love they share for this God-gift unites them in love.
This always becomes an object lesson for me, reminding me that no matter how far I am from my family of origin, in this season I remember once again how my family extends beyond my genealogical chart. New branches keep getting grafted on as the God-gift of love keeps helping me discover brothers and sisters I didn’t even knew I had. As we all pause in this season to make our way to the manger once again, may we all discover new family members who are made one with us through the one whose birth the angels sing.