The Work of Christmas...

 

We are smack dab in the middle of the 12 days of Christmas, yet for many, Christmas is already over: the tree is shedding and the decorations are begging to be placed back in their boxes for another year. Christmas 2023 is quickly becoming one more holiday memory.

It is at this time I like to sit with the words of Christian mystic Howard Thurman:

“When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and 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 others, To make music in the heart.”

“The work of Christmas begins…”

I have been meditating on that statement all week. What is the “work of Christmas”? Are we willing to do it?

From Mary’s response to the angel Gabriel to Herod’s decree to murder all boys under the age of two because he found his power threatened by the baby Jesus, the birth of Jesus challenges those in power and upsets the status quo through God’s revolution of Love. The God who made us becomes one of us, to show us a better way to live, to challenge systems that keep us from living out our full God-given humanity, to ensure that oppression ends and justice reigns.

The work of Christmas begins…

As you begin to pack away Christmas decorations, how will Christmas remain in your heart? How will God’s love for humanity be visible in your actions? How will you live out your baptismal vow and “accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves”?

Our faith does not allow us to hold a naïve view of the world. As we consider the possibilities of the New Year, we know that we will continue to be faced with violence, political division, a world on fire, inequalities, and hatred. How does Jesus’ birth provide us with hope, instill in us holy boldness, and compel us to take on the task of ushering in God’s Beloved Community?

The work of Christmas begins…let’s do this!

Open to the Holy Spirit

 Yesterday, I went to Colorado Springs with MSC colleagues to the Flying W Ranch, to attend this working ranch’s Christmas dinner and entertainment. With old saddles hanging from the ceiling and cowboy hats as the tree toppers on every Christmas tree, it was one more time when I realized how different my life is from eight years ago. This week, a Dance FB memory from 10 years ago popped up: Friends and I were wearing “tutus” as we participated in the San Francisco Lesbian/Gay Freedom Band’s Dance-Along Nutcracker.

This is what happens when we allow the Holy Spirit to break into our lives: we are led to places we hadn’t thought we’d ever go, to build relationships with people we never knew before, to grow in ways we hadn’t expected. The Holy Spirit keeps stretching us and our world, breaking barriers and borders, enlarging our world in blessed ways.

This week, the lectionary focuses on Mary, the mother of Jesus. A teenager who was betrothed to the carpenter Joseph, an angel announces to her that she will bear God’s son. I try to imagine what she must have felt, how she reacted when she was told this. Scripture says she had questions: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” (Luke 1: 34). Whether the angel’s response put her more at ease or not, what we know is that Mary said yes to carrying the Son of the Most High. Her life would take an unexpected turn, one she hadn’t planned, couldn’t even imagine, as she opened herself to the Holy Spirit and gave birth to a child who would change the world.

Do you leave yourself open to the Holy Spirit?

We know we are living a Spirit-led life when we find ourselves in community with people we never thought much about before, when we cross into new and unknown territories with eyes wide open, listening, learning, growing. We find ourselves relying less and less on our ego to make decisions and more on the Holy Spirit. We allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, so that we become extensions of Christ in the world. We find ourselves compelled to speak out, stand up, and stand with those who are oppressed and suffering.

This Advent season, keep yourself open to the Holy Spirit. You will find yourself (and those around you) blessed in ways you can’t even imagine.

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.

God is Coming, Ready or Not!

 I am so thankful that Robin puts up with me throughout Advent and Christmas. I don’t think of myself as a rigid person, but apparently, when it comes to the holidays, family members simply roll their eyes at me when I say that. I like to say that there are rituals and traditions that I like to honor. These are the things that bring meaning and joy for me, and enable me to sink into the Christmas story as fully as possible, helping me see signs of God’s coming in my life and in my world once again.

 

Because that is what good rituals do: they help reorient us and attune our senses to see beyond the usual and mundane to see where God is showing up, to lead, heal, challenge, comfort, and call.

 

That’s why I love the season of Advent. These four weeks leading up to Christmas help me prepare to receive God’s gift of Love once again. Throughout the year, there is so much I let get in the way of my walk with God, so many distractions that keep me from listening and looking for God.

 

This year, the church calendar and the secular calendar have nearly undone clergy and lay leaders. Advent is marked by the four Sundays before Christmas. But this year, the fourth Sunday is the 24th, making it Christmas Eve! How does one simultaneously prepare AND receive? Some churches have made the decision to start Advent a week early so that people can have four Sundays to prepare and then experience the wonder and joy of Christmas Eve.

 

Yesterday I wrote a post on FB: “Advent is here! Are you ready for the journey?” To which Pastor Matt Franks replied, “No, but I have found great peace in just letting it happen vs being so stressed about what needs to be done.”

 

Thanks, Matt. I needed this reminder, and I have a hunch I’m not the only one. May we all find peace in letting the season unfold. There is no “perfect” way to do Advent, no “perfect” way to prepare for Christmas. Perhaps the best way is to simply stay alert to the signs of the sacred, showing up in our world once again.

 

Because in the end, God is coming, ready or not!

 

Let Peace Begin With Me...and You

 These have been heart-wrenching days as our TV screens have been filled with images of the conflict between Israel and Hamas. The night sky has been lit up by rocket missiles that have exploded with deadly consequences. Homes and hospitals have been destroyed. Bloodied, bruised and dead Israeli children and Palestinian children have torn our hearts into a million little pieces.

How do we make sense of this conflict? How do we make a stand for peace in a place that has been torn apart by violence for centuries? What are we to do?

As I watch the images from the Middle East, a reminder whispered to me: Jesus wept.

Jesus wept.

Jesus weeps twice in the Gospels: Once, when he learns that Lazarus, someone he loved dearly, had died (John 11:35). The second, when he stood overlooking Jerusalem and was overcome with emotion, weeping as he said “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” (Luke 19: 41-42).

I am struck by these two instances: in the first, he feels such kinship with another that he can only cry when he learns that Lazarus has died. The second, in spite of the jubilant crowd that welcomed him with Palm branches and shouted “Hosanna”, he can only weep as he looks over Jerusalem (whose name means “City of Peace”).

Maybe what is needed in this moment are our tears. May we open our hearts to those who are caught up in a conflict that is not of their own making. May their lives matter to us. May we cry at the loss of life, whether Israeli or Palestinian, simply because they are our siblings, connected to us by a common cord of humanity.

May we cry because peace seems so elusive. May we cry because we, too, seem not to recognize the things that make for peace.

And then, through the power of God’s grace, may we live lives of peace. In youth group we sang “Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.” This is the foundational place that peace begins. If we aren’t living with hearts of peace, that give rise to acts of peace and relationships of reconciliation, how can there be peace in our lives, towns, cities, countries, and world?

May the peace that begins with us pour out and connect with other peace-seekers. May this become a strong and gentle movement that truly turns swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, so that tears no longer fall and no one studies war any more.

Doing Unto Others...

 This past week was the 25th anniversary of the death of Matthew Shepard, who died on October 12, 1998. Six days earlier, Matthew, a young gay man and student at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, was beaten, tortured, and left to die strung up on a wooden fence. It was a horrific act that tugged on the conscience of America, helping people realize the hatred and violence LGBTQ+ people face daily. During one of my trips to Wyoming, I made a pilgrimage to the site where Matthew Shepard was left to die. It was important for me, as this region’s bishop and as a lesbian, to visit the site and pray there.

Today, I am at a gathering of several hundred United Methodists in Charlotte, NC—the Reconciling Ministries Network is hosting a Convocation. RMN helps churches be a place where all people—regardless of sexual orientation and gender identity—are welcomed into the life of the church and its ministry. There is great joy and so much love in the room. It is a place of healing and hope for so

many.

At this convocation, I am especially thinking of the two men whose actions led to Matthew's death. Did they attend a church? Did they learn of God’s love for them as well as all others? What were they taught that made it possible for them to commit unspeakable acts against Matthew?

What are we teaching our children? How are we ensuring that each person—no matter who God created them to be—will know they, too, bear the image of God and will be nurtured to grow into the fullness of their God-given self in a safe and loving environment? How will we help one another see God’s face in people who aren’t like us, so that we will be moved to offer care and compassion as well as stand together for justice and right relationships?

I have been moved by the response of those in Wyoming to Matthew’s death. The state known as the “Equality State” (because it was the first state to grant women the right to vote) and a state that had an all-black town (Empire, WY, founded in 1908) has had people across the state organizing to ensure that all Wyomingites experience a safe and just place to live.

Sara Burlingame is a remarkable Wyoming community organizer. Sara recently wrote a piece reminding the people of Wyoming of the “Golden Rule of the Snow Ditch: Do unto others in a snow ditch as you would have done unto you in a snow ditch.” When someone’s car has slid off the road, you first don’t check on who they are before you help them. Their life depends on you getting them out of the ditch. You help. And you help, knowing that one day, you will need the same help.

Throughout the Mountain Sky Conference, we know the importance of this rule during the winter months! What a great way to understand more fully Jesus words, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12). When we treat each other the way we want to be treated, the lives we very well may be saving may be our own.

May our churches be places where every person is treated as the precious child of God they are. Where we look out for one another. Where we work to build safe communities and towns together. Where God’s Beloved Community takes shape and becomes a beacon of healing and hope, justice and joy.

Let's Dream Together!

 I love church buildings. When Robin and I travel, we always stop along the way to dash into a church. I love the smell. I love the way the light dances across the altar. I love the way the pews are worn down from generations of worshippers sitting, squirming, and (if we’re honest) sometimes even sleeping.

But there are things that concern me when I visit churches. Sometimes I wonder: is the church more of a museum these days (with very limited hours) or a mission outpost?

There was a time when the church building was the only community space in a town, so it was a vibrant gathering space. People knew it was the safe home to go to when the place you lived wasn’t safe. People came to find solace as well as challenge as they deepened their discipleship. They came to dream of ways to put their faith in action, to be a healing force for those who were hurting, a movement for justice for those who experienced oppression and injustice, a place where the redemptive love of Christ was experienced in tangible ways.

But times change. For many, the church building that served us so well in the 1920s now feels like an albatross around our necks. The roof leaks. The heater is on its last legs, and it feels like we are serving the building rather than it serving us. Each year it feels as if a greater percentage of our budgets are going to building upkeep than ministry programs.

COVID taught us that vibrant ministry can happen without a building. In fact, we in the Mountain Sky Conference are now worshipping more online than in person.

What does this mean for the future church? What will we leave the generations that will come after us? Someone was thinking of us when they broke new ground, although they couldn’t imagine the world we would currently inhabit. What is the new thing we need to create, for the sake of our children’s children? How will we shape a church that is less a museum of antiques and more a place (whatever that place might look like) where wounded souls find healing and peace through the love of God?

Let’s dream together!