A poem from Howard Thurman, an African-American mystic.
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.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Advent
This week's gospel tells of Mary's Annunciation.
In her reflections on Mary, Barbara Taylor writes,
“Mary wins her place in history
not for her cleverness, nor for her beauty,
nor even for her goodness.
She becomes the most important woman in the world
simply because she is willing to say yes to an angel’s strange proposal
without a clue where it will lead her.
Doing so, she becomes the prototype for all of us
who are into invited to bear God into the world.”
(Kirkridge Readings and Intentions, Dec. 23, 1990)
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Third Sunday of Advent
In this week’s Gospel (John 1:6-8, 19-28) we again hear about John the Baptist
Even though John was out there in the desert preparing the way, it was Mary who testified to the light at a much earlier time period. This improbable young girl was called upon to bring the light to the world. Her “fiat” would be incomprehensible to anyone who took a moment to contemplate what was being asked. The late Madeline L’Engle glimpses this moment in her book, A Cry Like a Bell.
And so we too this week are given the request to testify to the light for our time, and for times to come. Testifying to the light involves great risk. It involves walking the talk. It involves a surrender to self. It involves a “fiat” to do the will of God. We are all in this together and, in these times more than any other in recent history, we need to testify to the light and be light for one another.
Sometimes our light goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light. (Albert Schweitzer)
This week as I light the rose colored candle on the Advent wreath I am grateful for all the "rekindlers" of the light along my way through the wilderness.
A man named John was sent from God.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.
He came for testimony, to testify to the light,
so that all might believe through him.
He was not the light,
but came to testify to the light.
Even though John was out there in the desert preparing the way, it was Mary who testified to the light at a much earlier time period. This improbable young girl was called upon to bring the light to the world. Her “fiat” would be incomprehensible to anyone who took a moment to contemplate what was being asked. The late Madeline L’Engle glimpses this moment in her book, A Cry Like a Bell.
“This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There’d have been no room for the child.”
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There’d have been no room for the child.”
And so we too this week are given the request to testify to the light for our time, and for times to come. Testifying to the light involves great risk. It involves walking the talk. It involves a surrender to self. It involves a “fiat” to do the will of God. We are all in this together and, in these times more than any other in recent history, we need to testify to the light and be light for one another.
Sometimes our light goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being. Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light. (Albert Schweitzer)
This week as I light the rose colored candle on the Advent wreath I am grateful for all the "rekindlers" of the light along my way through the wilderness.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Second Sunday Of Advent
A voice cries out in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord!
In every life there is a vast wilderness. Lately, I feel like I am trudging through mine not really sure where the next step takes me. I used to think that a sense of alienation was what one felt in adolescence. Odd to experience that sensation in your fifties. With Thanksgiving right behind me I realize that my life is so blessed and I am grateful for all that has been given to me without condition. Yet, yesterday while I was at lunch with a friend I was bemoaning how much our society has changed in that it seems many people have no time for what I call "familial sentimentality" - the treasuring of family traditions and culture. I grew up in a home that treasured the small ordinary moments of day to day. I grew up knowing without question that I was loved and treasured - that holidays, birthdays were made special by our homemade celebrations. There was never much money but there was always plenty of time and love - for making cookies, for night time car rides to view the Christmas lights around the town, for caroling in the car - usually off key, for reverently unpacking treasured holiday decorations for the tree. How I wish I could give all of this as a gift to my family this year! As I decorate my home and bring out some of the same Christmas mementos, I find myself longing for those times of closeness with family. Nowadays enjoying the togetherness of the holidays becomes difficult because of great distances between families - both geographical and emotional. And so I travel through my melancholic wilderness listening to the voice that cries out to me,"Prepare ye the way of the Lord". On this second Sunday let me experience Maranatha!
In every life there is a vast wilderness. Lately, I feel like I am trudging through mine not really sure where the next step takes me. I used to think that a sense of alienation was what one felt in adolescence. Odd to experience that sensation in your fifties. With Thanksgiving right behind me I realize that my life is so blessed and I am grateful for all that has been given to me without condition. Yet, yesterday while I was at lunch with a friend I was bemoaning how much our society has changed in that it seems many people have no time for what I call "familial sentimentality" - the treasuring of family traditions and culture. I grew up in a home that treasured the small ordinary moments of day to day. I grew up knowing without question that I was loved and treasured - that holidays, birthdays were made special by our homemade celebrations. There was never much money but there was always plenty of time and love - for making cookies, for night time car rides to view the Christmas lights around the town, for caroling in the car - usually off key, for reverently unpacking treasured holiday decorations for the tree. How I wish I could give all of this as a gift to my family this year! As I decorate my home and bring out some of the same Christmas mementos, I find myself longing for those times of closeness with family. Nowadays enjoying the togetherness of the holidays becomes difficult because of great distances between families - both geographical and emotional. And so I travel through my melancholic wilderness listening to the voice that cries out to me,"Prepare ye the way of the Lord". On this second Sunday let me experience Maranatha!
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