Welcome to the world, Christ Child! Our souls rejoice at your coming!

Many thanks to God’s beloved children who offered their talents to this year’s daily offering…

Bill Albritton continues to lead Coffee & Conversation, a weekly study at Saint John’s in Duxbury; he also coordinates the parish’s prayer ministry. His thoughtful additions to this yearly offering began in its first year, and continued every year since.

David Anderson is a retired Episcopal Priest living outside Philadelphia. He is the author of Breakfast Epiphanies and Losing Your Faith, Finding Your Soul. He assists his wife, Pam Anderson, in running the Copper House retreat center. You can find more of his writings on his blog, Finding Your Soul.

Linda Benningfield-Hashman listens for God and writes to foster the spirits of others.

Donna Eby takes pictures of sunsets and writes poetry in the Plymouth area. She finds her faith home at Christ Church.

Bryan Fredrickson moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, after retiring, and is taking full advantage of all it has to offer. He found his worship community at the Unitarian church there. His words have been an Advent gift many times over the years.

Dave Fredrickson is the priest-in-charge of Zion Episcopal church in Manchester Center, Vermont. He is a coauthor of  Being Church in a Liminal Time: Three Images to Shape Your Congregation’s Future.

Jill Fredrickson lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico, living in a way that honors the earth and life. She practices the art of Japanese floral arranging. Her words and images have graced this devotional for many years.

Michael Giordano is a member of Zion Episcopal Church, and serves on the Vestry. He serves as a reader in worship and leads the congregation in morning prayer when the priest is away.

Debbie Hill is a singer, artist, and calligrapher who offers her talents at Christ Church Episcopal in Plymouth, Massachusetts. She and her husband, Don, have provided music for the Saturday evening service there for many years, to the great delight of the congregation.

Margaret Hill loves God, self, and neighbor in Duxbury, Massachusetts and at Christ Church Parish in Plymouth, Massachusetts. Her art has graced this blog and many homes.

Jeff Jones is a retired minister and field education teacher for seminarians. His book, Being Church in a Liminal Time: Three Images to Shape Your Congregation’s Future, was last year.

Robin Nielsen serves God and neighbor at Christ Church in Plymouth, Massachusetts. She has led the altar guild for many years, both at church and in the local region. 

Christmas Eve Readings: Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14

Advent 2024

It was a different world and place,

Still…very much the same,

When in the silence of dark night

A holy prompting beckoned.

And time ceased all turning

As shepherds, kings, and cattle

became aware;

A promise kept,

A truth fulfilled,

Joy to end all bleak yearning,

And they believed.

In the cacophony of our dark night

may we listen for the whisper

of angel melody,

Watch for the brilliance of the star

behind the clouds of dissent,

Remember the promise,

And find our way back

to the manger.

Offered by Debbie Hill, God’s beloved child.

Daily Readings: Psalm 113; Genesis 25:19-28; Colossians 1:15-20

In a world where shadows stretch and fall,

We lift our eyes, we hear the call.

Psalm 113, a prayer for grace,

To God who holds our broken space.

In contempt and sorrow, we wait and yearn,

For mercy, for healing, for the world to turn.

Like Rebekah’s heart, torn deep inside,

We wrestle with pain we cannot hide.

Yet in struggle, God’s hand is near,

His purposes unfolding, though unclear.

In every battle, in every tear,

His redemptive plan draws ever near.

Christ, the Creator, entered our night,

To bring us peace, to set things right.

Through his cross the world finds grace,

And in his return, we’ll see His face.

The King who suffered now glorified,

Will heal all wounds, no more to hide.

Advent calls us to hope, to wait,

For the One who opens heaven’s gate.

Though brokenness still marks the earth,

In Christ we find our second birth.

The Savior who came in humble form,

Will return in glory to end the storm.

So let us wait, not lost in fear,

But filled with hope, the day is near.

For Christ the Healer will come again,

To make things new, to end our pain.

In this Advent, we lift our song,

For in Christ, we know we belong.

Offered by Donna Eby, God’s beloved child.

Readings: Micah 5:2-5a; Luke 1:46b-55; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. 

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me, 

and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him 

from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm; 

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, 

and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things 

and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel, 

in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors, 

to Abraham and to his descendants forever.

Luke 1:46-55

Imagine what it must have been like for Mary. Engaged – looking forward to having a husband who would love, care and provide for her. It would be a simple life in small village – never great wealth, but every reason think they would have what they needed to live and raise a family. And then this angel shows up. And she learns she is going to get pregnant before she’s married. And the baby she’s going to have is not just any baby; he’s God’s son. I can picture her imagining her life falling apart around her. What was a time to celebrate, to look forward in joy to marriage and married life had all of sudden become a time of stress, strain, ridicule, criticism and condemnation. And it was all God’s fault!

This is what God does. God continually disrupts the complacency of our lives. When we think we’ve got the answers God lets us know we don’t. When we think it’s all settled God stirs things up. When in our pride we relish our own ability to handle all of life on our own, God confronts us with the harsh reality of our own inadequacy and weakness, God whittles us down, reminding us that something beyond ourselves is needed. And when we’re caught in a web of despair, seeing no possibilities and having no hope, God offers a vision of a new life of joy. And this doesn’t just happen to us as individuals. It happens to the world. 

God does this to reverse the way things are because God knows the way things are is not the way they are supposed to be. That’s why it’s important during Advent to acknowledge the struggles and problems of living – so we’ll be open to the great reversal God is about. If we don’t do that, if Advent was only about hope, peace, joy and love, there would be no reason for reversal, no reason for God, no need of a savior. So, we need to talk about the fear, the guilt, the anxiety of our living. And, following Mary’s lead, we take it one step further. In her hymn of praise Mary helps us see it’s not just about personal reversals. It’s also about the world, about all creation. Mary sings praise to God because God has looked with favor on her lowliness, done great things for her and shown great mercy. But she also sings praise to God because God scatters the proud, brings down the powerful, lifts up the lowly, fills the hungry and sends the rich away empty.

Because this is our faith – because we know this is the work God is up to, because we have experienced this reversal in our own lives, even as Mary did – we now have the strength, the courage, the fortitude not just to sit by and wait for God to do God’s thing, but to join in doing it. Because God has provided assurance for our fear, forgiveness for our guilt, and courage for our anxiety, we can join God in the work of turning the reality of injustice into a reason for joy. We can do it with conviction and hope because we know we are not the powerful of this nation or this world: God never chooses the powerful. We may not be among the movers and shakers: God never chooses the movers and shakers. We can do it because we are precisely the kind of people God chooses to do the work God wants to do. And when we’re chosen by God we too can be about reversing the way things are. We too can bring joy to injustice. We too can really and truly turn the town, the nation, the world upside down. This is the meaning of incarnation. This is how the Word is made flesh. It’s the thing God does – and it’s the thing God has chosen us to do.

Offered by Jeff Jones, God’s beloved child.

Daily Readings: Psalm 80:1-7; Isaiah 66:7-11; Luke 13:31-35

At that very hour some Pharisees came to him [Jesus] and said, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.” He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'” Luke 13:31-35, NRSV

There’s a time when children no longer want their mother hugging them, no longer want their father to say I love you. They don’t return the embrace or the words in public, sometimes for years. It’s part of growing up, this separation from those who have loved and cared for them since birth – and continue to do so! Their inner dialogue is no longer shared, and they do their best to keep their longing for comfort hidden.

The good news: it’s a stage that most outgrow. The loving words and embraces return.

The same seems to be true in our relationship with God. When we are growing, we go through a time of pushing God’s offer of love and help away; we refuse the very love we most desperately want and need. Sadly, we don’t always grow out of this.

Perhaps one of the reasons God-With-Us came as a helpless infant is so that we could say I Love You and gladly embrace the divine.

Daily Readings: Psalm 80:1-7; Isaiah 42:10-18; Hebrews 10:32-39

I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them…. Listen, you that are deaf; and you that are blind, look up and see! Isaiah 10: 16, 18, NRSV

Second Isaiah (Isaiah chapters 40-55) was written by an anonymous author in the period immediately before the fall of Babylon in 539 BCE. In it is a description of the faithfulness of God to a people, the Hebrew people, who had been in exile for some 60 years in this foreign land. Here, the prophet addresses a people plagued with hopelessness regarding their future. So, it is curious that the beginning of this pericope starts with singing and praise, “Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise from the end of the earth…!” (Isaiah 42:10a) The prophet is calling the people of Israel, who have been exiled now for two or three generations, to do something new, to “sing a new song,” to rejoice in the praise of God even in the midst of their darkness and despair. 

How many of us from our own places of exile and imprisonment, where we feel alienated from God and from goodness can hear something like this? And yet, we must, we must hear the promise of God because it is clear. “I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light the rough places into level ground. These are things I will do, and I will not forsake them…” Is this an invitation to a “blind faith?” Perhaps it is, but I ask you, can there be a more life-giving message to cling to in the dark? Can there be anything more worthy of our headlong pursuit than the promises of God?

I am reminded of the wonderful poem by Mary Oliver:

Moments

There are moments that cry out to be fulfilled.

Like, telling someone you love them.

Or giving your money away, all of it.

Your heart is beating, isn’t it?

You’re not in chains, are you?

There is nothing more pathetic than caution

When headlong might save a life, 

Even, possibly, our own. 
(Mary Oliver, Felicity; New York: Penguin Press, 2016, p.9)

For me, these words are a healing salve, the elixir to tide us over as we wait for the light to emerge. As we approach the coming Nativity with anticipation and excitement, let’s look up and see!

Offered by David Fredrickson, God’s beloved child.

Daily Readings: Psalm 80:1-7; Jeremiah 31:31-34; Hebrews 10:10-18

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt – a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord, for I will forgive them their iniquity and remember their sin no more. Jeremiah 31:31-34

This promise of the New Covenant, of forgiveness and spiritual renewal, has lingered on my heart for weeks, months, even years.  At times I find myself longing for this promise to become inwardly manifest, for myself to be the object of graceful transformation into a beacon of Christ’s love, compassion, courage, and wisdom – into what one might call a Saint with a capital S.  

But one of the mysteries about God’s Word is that we wrestle with it on multiple levels all at once.  There is a level on which I still anticipate the coming of a yet-unarrived great moment of awakening, when the sunlight of God’s grace will warm my whole being, which I will reflect like the Moon throughout the sky.  One implication of this event is that I will be filled with the strength to consistently live as Christ lived, loving one another as He has loved us, in accordance with his most holy commandments.  

But on another level, Advent reminds me that this is not only a promise of a New Covenant that is yet to come, but also the promise of a New Covenant that has already happened.  It occurred to me powerfully on the drive home today (12/14 as I write this) that the Great Story, the story of God becoming Man that Man might become God, is already written on my heart, in the most tender and loving hand.  I know – I know deep down in my bones – that this story is one I will carry with me until I fade from this earth, a river of living water in my heart.  It is a story sung by all Creation, from the stones to the angels, from the wind to the stars, and it is already my source of strength and renewal.  As The Ghost of Christmas Present remarks to Ebeneezer, “So is it true of the child born in Bethlehem.  He does not live in men’s hearts only one day of the year but in all the days of the year!”  

Offered by Michael Giordano, God’s beloved child.

Daily Readings: Isaiah 11:1-9; Micah 4:8-13; Luke 7:31-35

“To what then will I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not weep.’ For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say,’Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Nevertheless, wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”

If I’m determined to find fault, I’ll find it. If I’m looking to start an argument, I’ll find a way.

If I’m looking for the good in someone, I’ll find it. If I’m looking to connect, I’ll find a way.

When I find Jesus, am I looking to start an argument or looking to connect? Either way, I’ll find it.

Daily Readings: Isaiah 11:1-9; Numbers 16:20-35; Acts 28:23-31

For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as waters cover the sea. Isaiah 11:9, NRSV

Fall back into the ocean (a lake, pool, or bathtub if the seacoast is too distant or the weather too cold). Feel the water on every part of your body. Relax into the water’s gentle sway. This is immersion.

Imagine immersion in the knowledge of God. What would it be like to relax into the gentle pull of it? Every single part of you embraced, every single part of you accepted. Wouldn’t that change everything?

The next time you pray, the next time you read scripture, imagine yourself falling through the words into God’s full embrace – as you would fall into the ocean’s water. Immersion. When you come out, the world will be a different place because you are a different person – full of God’s love and in love with every living thing in the world.

Photograph by Donna Eby.