Readings: I Samuel 2:1-10; Genesis 37: 2-11; Matthew 1:1-17

For not by might shall a man prevail. 1 Samuel 2:9

Some people are people watchers. It’s their hobby to closely observe strangers in airports or shopping malls as they go about their daily business. People watchers usually have highly developed skills of extrapolating meaning, whether accurate or not, from what they see. They have mastered interpreting nonverbal communication to arrive at conclusions about their subjects without ever knowing them.

I’m an English teacher and a logophile, so I do with words what people watchers do with actions. I listen carefully to how people orally express themselves, the words they choose, the way they use sentences to convey their thoughts.  Based on my observations, I draw conclusions and often go further to making judgments.

The Scripture above intrigues me because of its use of the words might and prevail.  What are other fill-in-the-blank choices? Might could mean physical strength or will, power, or control. Prevail connotes to triumph, conquer, and overcome. But the important takeaway of the verse is that neither might nor any of its synonyms win out in the end. Further, Hannah’s Song of Thanksgiving, (1 Samuel: 2-10)  gives other concrete examples of commonly accepted contrasts that, really, in the end, play out in reverse: the feeble vs. the mighty; the hungry vs, the sated; the barren vs. the oft-pregnant; and the poor vs. the rich. In all cases, the former prevail over the latter, our short-term observations to the contrary.

So, back to people watching and language analyzing.  If the exact opposite of what we see or what we hear is truth, then what is the allure of the exercise? Doesn’t it just give us a false sense of superiority over our unwitting subjects? Doesn’t it give us the opportunity to make judgments, not out of any altruistic helpfulness but rather to stoke our own need to pass judgment, to make usually unkind comparisons, to feel greater than?  How worthy is that exercise, especially if our observations, in the end, prove to be wrong? 

To save this post from being just another semantic exercise, here’s my application: the next time I catch myself moving to judgment about another person based solely on observations, I will mindfully stop to remind myself that all is not as it seems.

I saw an image recently of a snail moving along the sharp edged side of a razor blade. That is me (the self-selected mighty) when I observe, analyze, and unkindly judge other people based on how they act and talk.  There is no need for me to prevail over them.  I, the snail, risk slicing my belly open on the razor of judgment if I move too quickly. My conjectures help no one, not my subjects or myself. It’s a worthless hobby rife with soul danger. My best course of action should be to not get up on the razor blade of analysis and judgment to begin with, to, rather, be with all my fellow seekers standing firm in the belief that

… he who is least among you, he is the greatest. (Luke 9:48)

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Offered by Jill Fredrickson, teacher, fosterer of youth, seeker of the Christ Child.

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:18-22; Galatians 4:1-7

Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and said: “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? And what more can David say to you? For you know your servant, O Lord God! 2 Samuel: 7:18, 20

I’ve read that a sense of humor is really a sense of perspective. I agree, but I think it’s more than that. When I can laugh at my own foolishness, get a chuckle out of my missteps, it’s a sure sign that I’ve been well loved. Otherwise, I would be embarrassed and ashamed instead of amused.

How David must have felt God’s love for him and for his people! When his wish to build a temple was turned down, pushed off for another generation, David’s responds with laughter rather than a tantrum (What more can I say? You know me too well!). He knew the big secret: God delighted in him, loved him to pieces, got a kick out of him. What could compare to that?

In Advent, we await another child of God who knew the secret, too.

O Lord, I know the secret: you love me. Help me live in it! Amen

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 21; Isaiah 24:1-16a; I Thessalonians 4:1-12

But we urge you, more and more, to aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we directed you, so that you may behave properly toward outsiders and be dependent on no one. I Thess. 4:10-12

The world is a noisy place these days. It’s almost impossible to be in public without hearing a phone ring, sing, or yell. Motion sensitive holiday displays startle passersby in malls and on sidewalks. This external noise is often matched, sometimes even exceeded, by the internal cacophony of thoughts, feelings, and songs running through the mind. In such a world, to aspire to live quietly is as much a literal challenge as it is a lifestyle choice.

There is a big difference between lowering the volume and pace of life and muting or unplugging it. I don’t think this is recommending a life of silence or hiding. I think it’s a call to cultivating inner and outer quiet, keeping the stereo of my life at a volume that won’t frighten the neighbors or deafen me.

Living quietly brings with it blessings that a full volume life just can’t. I will hear what someone means, not just the words spoken. I will listen for God in the still, small voices of birds and crickets. I can pay attention to the inner voices of peace and compassion that often get drowned out by the louder voices of fear and worry. I can mind my own inner and outer affairs well enough to notice when others could use my help – and well enough to notice when my help is neither requested nor required.

A quiet life is a blessed life, and a life that can bless others. It’s something I aspire to. Quietly.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.