Hannah’s Song

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.

Main story, Side story

Readings: 1 Samuel 2:1-10; Genesis 21:1-21; Galatians 4:21-5:1

What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid: for God has heard the voice of the boy from where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him… and God was with the boy, and he grew up… Genesis 21:17-18, 20a

Sarah didn’t want Ishmael around to inherit anything. As far as she was concerned, her own son Isaac deserved it all. Getting rid of Hagar and her son didn’t sit well with Abraham, but after talking with God he let Sarah have her way. Hagar and Ishmael were sent away, and Sarah’s Isaac didn’t have to share his father’s blessing with his half brother. As far as Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac are concerned, Hagar and Ishmael disappear from the story of their lives and their faith. The main story goes on as it was meant to: Abraham becomes the father of a people through his son, Isaac.

But that’s Isaac’s main story, not Ishmael’s. Hagar and Ishmael have their own story and their own holy adventure. God seeks them out, providing water in the desert and a future full of blessing and faith. For Ishmael and Hagar, it’s their story that takes main stage. Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac fade into the background for them.

So whose story is the main one? They are both about mothers and sons, fathers and faith. They cross paths on the way to separate blessings and adventures.

As I journey to Bethlehem, may I remember that there are any number of faith stories in the world, and countless people whom God cares for. They may get no more than a passing mention in my faith story, but that says more about my own limited awareness than it does about God’s loving care.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Given

Readings: I Samuel 2:1-10; Genesis 17:15-22; Galatians 4:8-20

Today’s readings are full of children: Sarah and Abraham are promised a child, Hannah dedicates her son Samuel to the service of God, Paul likens believers to his children. All this leads to a child in a manger in Bethlehem, the path of words taking us to Jesus.

So much time, energy, and love go into raising children that sometimes the adults forget they aren’t personal possessions. It’s not surprising that sometimes a larger perspective gets lost. How did Abraham and Sarah find the courage to believe they would be given a child? How could Hannah let Samuel go when it took so long for her to have him?

Today’s passages don’t say how Sarah and Abraham did it, but Hannah is a different story. After she brings Samuel to the temple, she sings her song of praise to God. She knew a huge, holy truth: Samuel was God’s beloved child, not just her own. She didn’t give Samuel to God – she gave him back to the one who brought him into being. Hannah had enough faith to give Samuel over to the life God created for him. Such wisdom in love.

Hundreds of years later, Mary would do the same. In faith and trust, she would give her son back. And God would hold him fast.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Affirming the Miracle

Readings: Micah 5:2-5a; Psalm 80:1-7; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45

But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule Israel…And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace. Micah 5:2, 4-5

And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has it happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Luke 1:41-42

One of the best parts of the movie version of Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings was a conversation between Frodo and Sam. Frodo found himself on a quest far beyond his own strength to accomplish, unsure of the right road, and afraid that a mistake might cost him his own life and the life of the world he loved. But Sam took a different approach. He reminded Frodo of all the heroes in all the adventures he heard when he was a child. His take: those heroes were just as afraid, just as fallible. They just kept going, even when the was wasn’t clear or easy. Perhaps their own adventure would be told one day, with children listening to their deeds of courage, the messiness and mistakes forgotten.

Mary said yes when the angel asked if she would be the mother of Emmanuel, the ruler from Bethlehem who would be a man of peace. She took a leap of faith, heading out on a holy adventure with no clear idea of how it would all work out. It’s a lonely business, bringing an ancient prophecy to fruition. There are precious few people in the world who would believe that Mary had been visited by an angel, but Elizabeth was one of them. She joyfully assured Mary that she didn’t imagine the whole thing.

When walking a holy road, all of us need someone to confirm our journey. A friend, relative, sometimes a stranger. Affirmation doesn’t change the road, but it makes us walk it with a lighter step.

A holy road stretches in front of you and me, disappearing into the distance beyond your sight. It takes courage to put one foot in front of the other. But somewhere not too far along the way, someone will recognize the road you and I walk – a blessed confirmation that we aren’t crazy! Thank God for the one who says to us what Elizabeth said to Mary:

…blessed is she or he who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her or him by the Lord.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Consequences

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:23-29; John 3:31-36

For you, O Lord God, have spoken, and with your blessing shall the house of your servant be blessed forever. 2 Samuel 7:29b

He whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure. The Father loves the Son and has placed all things in his hands. John 3:34-35

Consequences. Pretty much everything we do has them. Some are obvious: if I plant tomato seeds, the plant that grows will produce tomatoes. Some are not quite as obvious: If I engage with an infant, mirroring her actions with smiles, words, and eye contact, her brain will develop as it should. Even less obvious: the infant girl I mirror will one day do the same for her infant son, handing on the blessing. One thing leads to another. Consequences.

God promised David a blessing for his people and for his family. There is no unblessing, no taking back the love God has freely given. It returns in the words of the prophets, the prayers of the faithful, the care for the widows and orphans. It returns in Jesus, the man of Nazareth. Blessing is writ large in his words, the healing of the sick, and in his love for even the ones who condemned him to die.

What are the consequences for us, loved for so long and so well? How will we hand the blessing on?

Mary’s Boy Child/Oh My Lord, Boney M, Nightflight to Venus 

Come, Lord Jesus, Come

The Big Secret

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.

Gifted

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:1-17; Galatians 3:23-29

Now the king was settled in his house, and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him. The king said to the prophet Nathan, “See now, I am living in a hours of cedar, but the Ark of God stays in a tent.”

Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in?..Wherever I have moved among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?” 2 Samuel 7:1-2, 5b-7

When I was very young, maybe four or five years old, my sister and I picked out a present for my father: drawer knobs. We mistook them for something else, something we thought my father would be able to use. Needless to say, he was very surprised when he opened his present. Being a caring father with a wonderful sense of humor, he enjoyed them – a well intended gift from two young children who loved him. I didn’t give them another thought for years, when my mother told my sister and me about the gift mix-up. It’s still one of my favorite stories.

David’s desire to build a home for God reminds me of those drawer pulls – an offering of love and good intentions from a beloved child who reasons like a child. Since David hadn’t built the house yet, God graciously put a stop to the venture. Or at least delayed it, assuring David that one of his offspring could build such a home.

Thinking back on my own father’s response to his drawer knobs, I wonder if the building of the temple was a gift God gave his well intentioned children rather than a necessity that the children gave to God.

God, thank you for accepting the gifts I offer, even the drawer knob equivalents. Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Long, dark night of the soul

Readings: Psalm 42; Zechariah 8:1-17; Matthew 8:14-17, 28-34

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God…

When shall I come and behold the face of God?

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God. Psalm 42:1, 11

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Not many experience it, and those who ask for the experience don’t know what they seek. It is the presence of an absence so profound that it defies explanation or sufficient articulation. A few saints and mystics have written about their long dark night, but I’d guess that most who go through that spiritual desert haven’t put pen to paper or led seminars to get the word out. It’s a path walked without the benefit of another person’s company and counsel. It’s a trek most of the faithful would rather not take, perhaps.

What happens when we can’t find a light to guide us home? When prayer fails, where do we turn? When none of our friends see what’s happening, because we can’t explain it or they can’t understand it, what is next?

I’m not far enough along my journey of faith to stumble into the long dark night. I’m not sure I will ever experience it in this life, and I’m not sure I want to. But I’ve been around long enough to know that spiritual growth in loving God, neighbor, and self comes at a significant cost. Who I am has to die for me to become who I am going to be – transformation feels like death before it feels like new life.

Isn’t that what this walk to Bethlehem is? A venture into the unknown, seeking the face of God without knowing what it might look like. Just a longing and a dark road that leads to God-With-Us, angelic choirs, and the light of the world. Isn’t that worth whatever journey my disquieted soul must take?

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Into the Waters

Readings: Psalm 42; Ezekiel 47:1-12; Jude 1:17-25

Then he brought me back to the entrance of the temple; there, water was flowing from below the threshold of the temple toward the east…

Reflecting on the passage from Ezekiel brought me back to the time when I lived near a beach adjacent to a river.  During certain tides the river would spill into the sea.  This created a swift current close to the beach shore.  I sometimes observed bathers body surfing with the current, having fun that I was too fearful to attempt.   One day I was with a friend who encouraged me to try the surfing with her.  “Don’t be afraid,” she said, “the water isn’t too deep.”  So we did it and I experienced childlike joy and abandon as I left control behind and watched the sky and the shore go whizzing by.  Freedom and deep peace for those few seconds.

Very often I return to that experience in my prayer.  I needed a companion to lead me into that living water just as my parents led me into the living waters of Baptism.  Today I need to let go into the deep waters of my life and let the Spirit carry me to a life giving, fruitful place.  God is the River and if I surrender to God’s plans, I trust I will find freedom, peace, and joy, with a little help from my friends!

Come, Lord Jesus!

Offered by Ann Fowler, spiritual director, seeker of the Christ Child.

On That Day

Readings: Psalm 42; Isaiah 29:17-24; Acts 5:12-16

In the years 750-689 BCE, Judah was in a series of political crises.  The Middle East was in turmoil.  There were wars between countries and cities, one after another.  Into this chaos came the prophet Isaiah, a man of God, who answered a call from the LORD, a god of justice and righteousness.

The situation in Jerusalem was one of waywardness on the part of its leaders, who seemingly looked at things as mainly to their benefit.  Their oppression of the poor and needy caused the Lord to turn against the corrupt elite.  He gave the news to Isaiah to warn the people of Judah that difficult days were coming.  However, God also left room for a remnant to take hold in the future.

On  that day, the deaf shall hear the words of a scroll,

  and out of the gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see.

                          The meek shall obtain fresh joy in the Lord,

              and the neediest shall exalt in the Holy One of Israel.

            For the tyrant shall be no more, and the scoffer shall cease to be;

                           all those alert to do evil shall be cut off_________

Isaiah 29: 18-20

Just as Isaiah waited  for the Day of the Lord, we too wait to see the reversal of the fates of the suffering.   Over and over this event seems to occur, as leaders forget their role as the clay not the potter, the made not the maker. The warning continued through the many prophets in the Old Testament as they looked forward to the waiting of the Messiah. They ask God, “How long will it be until before you bring justice to earth?”  We know that God remains with those who suffer.  And in many ways we still see the reversal of realities in our 21st century as we observe the many oppressed and needy in our times. 

As we look forward to Advent and the celebration of the birth of Christ, we give thanks for His present time with us.  Come, Lord Jesus.

Offered by Marge O’Brien, hearer of the Word, seeker of the Child.