I might enjoy what’s in the box, but nothing in it could be the perfect gift.
The true present? That something, almost anything, given with love and received with gratitude, delivers what I most desire in life:
The awareness that this life, all aspects and instances of it, are capable of drawing me into the love of God.
Today, that’s my working definition of Joy.
When the snow falls just right, with enough heft to coat the branches but not enough to break them, something like an outdoor hallway is revealed. I’ve come upon them in many places – the library walkway, Buckmanville Road in New Hope, and Prescott Park in Portsmouth. But none were quite as magical as the ones a few miles up Birch Hill Road in New Durham. Dirt roads leading to the summer cabins on Chalk and March ponds, abandoned in Winter, were natural cathedrals when adorned in white. I spent many hours walking in these sacred spaces, and am much richer for it.
Healing, justice, love. A song, a branch, and a path. If I approached them with the same reverence as a snow-created wonder, surely the world and I would be much the richer for it.
I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon looking out the window, hoping that the expected snowfall will come. But now the sun has set and the street lights shine on bare sidewalks. No snow yet. But I still have hope that the wonder of snow is on its way, so I’m keeping the inside lights to a minimum – just the Christmas tree lights and the bookcase lights.
Wonder is a freely given gift, but an easily overlooked one. I can’t be too preoccupied with my own things or sit in a spotlight if I want experience the wonder all around me. I’ll miss snowfall, starlight, new life, and God knows what else if I forget to look beyond myself.
It’s just a day into the new year, but Christmas season is still with me – the twelve days don’t end until the 6th, and our festive decorations are still brightening up the house. Included in those decorations are the Christmas cards that hang between the kitchen and living room. Walking between rooms, I pass under the well wishes of friends, family, and a few institutions – an arch of love and care that has been constructed card by card for decades. It would be a shame to let the cards go before giving them more than a passing glance…
You might want to share some of your favorites as well…
Readings: Luke 1:46b-55; Micah 4:1-5; Ephesians 2:11-22
So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called “the uncircumcision” by those who are called “the circumcision” – a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands – remember the you were at one time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, the he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; In whole you are also built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God. NRSV
For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us.
Ephesians 2:14 (NIV)
The Gentiles, who were at one time welcomed into the temple (I Kings 8: 41-43), are no longer allowed into the temple under penalty of death; the wall of hostility divides the Jews from the non-Jews. The writer of Ephesians proclaims peace and unity are now here through the broken body of Jesus.
Last Sunday we lit the 4th candle, the candle symbolizing peace—the culmination of our journey to Bethlehem. Peace on earth, goodwill to all. And yet there remains so many walls of hostility. The Body of Christ introduces a fundamental perspective of community as organic, not structural, organizational or doctrinal—forms of community against which Jesus struggled. These artificial communities, with their rigid systems, were exactly what Jesus sought to replace. He welcomed people into relationships that allowed for differences, tolerated uncertainties, and respected the dignity of every human being. May we do the same as we pray a prayer for unity from the Book of Common Prayer:
O God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our only Savior, the Prince of Peace: Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions; take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatever else may hinder us from godly union and concord; that, as there is but one Body and one Spirit, one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Offered by Bill Albritton, a light on our path to Bethlehem.
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.” Luke 7:31-35, NRSV
If I’m inclined to be disappointed, or to find fault, I’ll surely find an excuse to do so. I’ll see what I want to see, regardless of what I am looking at.
If I’m inclined to find satisfaction and amazement, I’ll surely find a reason to do so. I’ll see what I want to see, whatever I’m looking at.
In John’s lifestyle and Jesus’ life choices, I can find reasons enough to criticize and evidence enough to experience God’s presence. What will I claim as truth?
Readings: Psalm 126; Isaiah 40:1-11; Romans 8:22-25
Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
double for all her sins.
A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
4 Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
5 Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
6 A voice says, “Cry out!”
And I said, “What shall I cry?”
All people are grass,
their constancy is like the flower of the field.
7 The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the Lord blows upon it;
surely the people are grass.
8 The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand forever.
9 Get you up to a high mountain,
O Zion, herald of good tidings;[a]
lift up your voice with strength,
O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,[b]
lift it up, do not fear;
say to the cities of Judah,
“Here is your God!”
10 See, the Lord God comes with might,
and his arm rules for him;
his reward is with him,
and his recompense before him.
11 He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep. Isaiah
The odd thing: the times when good news is most difficult to believe are the times when we most need to hear it.
When the pandemic goes on and on, when justice continues to be denied, when divisiveness and ego dominate the political arena making genuine governing all but impossible, when so much of what we cherish about the church seems to be unraveling, it is hard to believe there is good news. All seems bleak and hopeless. Isaiah sounds like a cock-eyed optimist, totally oblivious to the realities of our day. We can’t help but ask, “Can anything good come out of this?”
It’s hard for us, but it was hard for those who first heard Isaiah’s words as well. They had been forced into exile, living in a foreign land for decades. Their temple, which was essential to their faith, had been destroyed. They lived under the rule of an empire that had conquered them. They must have wondered, “Can anything good come out of this?”
And things seemed just as bad for the people of Jesus’ day. They were subjects of the Roman Empire and a puppet king. Their religious leaders seemed more concerned with protecting their power and privilege than anything having to do with genuine faith. They must have wondered, “Can anything good come out of this?”
But to them and to us the words of Isaiah come. They are words for us despite these times—words we need because of these times. Comfort. Speak tenderly. The rough places shall become a plain. The glory of the Lord will be revealed. He will feed his flock like a shepherd.
Something good can and will come out of this because God is always at work to redeem even the most devastating circumstances. Hope is possible not because all is well with the world, but because God is in the world. Hope is possible because God comforts and redeems. That is good news for difficult times. It is good news for us. It comes in a word made flesh to dwell among us. This is the hope we claim each Advent season and this year is no different!
Offered by Jeff Jones, to light our path to Bethlehem.
Readings: Malachi 3:1-4 or Baruch 5:1-9; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6
I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me, both in my imprisonment and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel. For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus. And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God. Phil. 3:1-11, NRSV
Today, on the second Sunday in Advent, we light the Bethlehem candle, the candle representing faith and Mary and Joseph’s journey to Bethlehem. Last Sunday’s candle was the candle of hope, and next week we’ll light the candle of love. It helps me to be alive in the expectation of the coming of the Messiah to remember what the candles represent, and about their meaning in my life.
Today’s passages are all about hope, faith and joy. John the baptizer is preaching the words of Isaiah; they resound in Handel’s Messiah, as in Baruch in his apocryphal book. And Philippians is the epistle of joy.
Paul is praying that the church has the true knowledge, knowledge with full insight, to know what is best to do before the Messiah returns. What is knowledge with full insight?I like to think it’s the difference between knowing about and knowing. I read somewhere that knowing about is like having a string of Christmas lights: Knowing is plugging them in.
It seems there are lots of folk who know about Jesus but how many of us know him?
O that we would pray the prayer that Paul is praying for each other today with complete faith.Come Lord Jesus, come.
Offered by Bill Albritton, to light our path to Bethlehem.
Readings: Luke 1:68-79; Malachi 3:5-12; Philippians 1:12-18a
I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ; and most of the brothers and sisters, having been made confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, dare to speak the word with greater boldness and without fear.
Some proclaim Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from goodwill. These proclaim Christ out of love, knowing that I have been put here for the defense of the gospel; the others proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely but intending to increase my suffering in my imprisonment. What does it matter? Just this, that Christ is proclaimed in every way, whether out of false motives or true; and in that I rejoice.
More than once I heard each of them preach. Both had taught at Princeton Seminary, and both had served in churches. One preached out of love for Jesus, God-With-Us; the other as a form of public speech. One made time to listen to the life stories of others; the other was too busy running a large church and left the pastoral work to his assistant. One had a deep and abiding prayer life; the other didn’t think much of that kind of thing, and mocked those who did. These two preachers were different in almost every way except one: they revealed the Gospel whenever they stood in the pulpit and preached.
Does it matter, the motives of these preachers? Both proclaimed Christ to a world desperate for hope and love. Paul figured the motives weren’t so important – false or true, the Gospel was offered.
I’ll do my best to remember that, and to remember that Jesus can shine through my own imperfect and mixed motives.
Readings: Psalm 90; Isaiah 1:24-31; Luke 11:29-32
When the crowds were increasing, he began to say, “This generation is an evil generation; it asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah. For just as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so the Son of Man will be to this generation. The queen of the South will rise at the judgement with the people of this generation and condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to listen to the wisdom of Solomon, and see, something greater than Solomon is here! The people of Nineveh will rise up at the judgement with this generation and condemn it, because they repented at the proclamation of Jonah, and see, something greater than Jonah is here!”
One aspect of wisdom is having a broader perspective – one that sees beyond my own likes and preferences, taking into consideration how my life affects reality in a sense larger than my immediate here and now. Solomon excelled at that kind of wisdom.
But what is that something greater that Jesus mentions? What is beyond the wisdom of Solomon? This is my best shot at an answer:
God is not an object in my world, even the biggest and most beloved: I am a beloved creature in God’s world. If I keep trying to stuff God and everyone else into my own limited version of reality, I’ve missed the whole point of life.
Asking for a sign is pointless if I refuse to see that reality isn’t limited to my own personal perspective; if I already know that, then I don’t need a sign.
[I’d bet Solomon knew that, too…]