Christmas Day - 2021

 

Finally! It's Christmas Day, the celebration of the birth of our Lord. We've been planning it for weeks, even months, been crafting like crazy, baking like mad, wrapping and decorating as if not getting everything done would have been a reason for guilt and shame. Sometimes we forget the real reason for the celebration in our urgency to meet impossible expectations. Even on Christmas Day, there can be flashes of anxiety that something has been overlooked, misplaced, left undone, or done improperly. Somehow, Jesus seems to have been packed away early.

Regular routines have been uprooted as viruses and epidemics raise their evil heads again. People who normally attend Christmas Eve Mass or a Christmas Day Eucharist either try to find an online replacement for their neighborhood parish service, or they skip the whole thing, feeling bereft that something so essential and meaningful, not to mention traditional, is missing in their lives – again.

So comes Christmas Day. There are many phone calls and family Zoom sessions to replace the whole family gathered around the tree. After a couple of years of this, we're beginning to accept this as the new normal.

Still, it's Christmas Day, the end of Advent, and the beginning of the 12-day season of Christmas. Mary is resting from her labors. Joseph is probably getting some sleep, and the Baby Jesus lies quietly in a manger. The angels and shepherds have gone, and the magi haven't yet arrived. For the cattle, sheep, goats, chickens, and all, it's just a regular day, like any other, despite the uproar of the previous night.

Sometime today, it would be good to take a few minutes to sit quietly, doing nothing active, putting hamster thoughts behind, and just be in a quiet place, allowing God time to get in a few messages we might not have had time to listen to – or for.  

Take a moment to read the words of Howard Thurman, civil rights leader, educator, and theologian:

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 flocks,
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 the people,
to make music in the heart.*

Let's remember to take the real work of Christmas with us all year. It is a gift that is never too small or large, the wrong color, or a duplicate of something they've already got. It is simply what everybody needs – every day, every minute.

Have a peaceful and blessed Christmas Day.

 

*The Work of Christmas, by Howard Thurman (1985). Found on Education for Ministry (EfM), Facebook, December 22, 2021.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, December 25, 2021. 

Stars and Candles

 Only in the darkness can you see the stars. – Martin Luther King Jr.

Most people dislike this time of year because the daylight doesn’t last as long as it does earlier in the year. Many people who have to report in for work find they’re driving to the office around sunrise and coming home at sunset or nearly dark. People with Seasonal Affective Disorder undergo increased times of depression and stress simply because they require more sunlight than is available due to the earth’s tilt and rotation in relation to the sun. I wonder if people with SAD live in the arctic and how they cope. 

With darkness comes colder temperatures. Even in Arizona’s desert in the summertime, the nighttime temperature may only drop by ten degrees. Still, in winter, it can be thirty degrees or more. There are days (and nights) in the northern climates where it does not go above zero. It’s a time to stay indoors and drink hot cocoa and watch the fireplace flames dance. 

It’s a pity that we seldom go out in winter simply to look up at the skies. Stars shine during the dark hours (and, honestly, during the daytime as well) all year, changing as the earth rotates, so we see different stars and constellations. It’s just the light of the sun that makes them invisible. As soon as the sun starts to sink into the horizon, the stars begin to shine.  When the darkness is complete, we can view the millions of stars and planets that form the canopy of the sky. Dr. King was perfectly right – only in the darkness can we see the stars.

I remember the joy of walking home from church after midnight mass on Christmas Eve. There were still lots of artificial light around, so that I couldn’t see all the stars in that part of the sky, but I could see more than usual. Like tiny diamonds twinkling on a field of dark blue velvet, they made the space between earth and the heavens a much thinner veil than usual. 

Even if I can’t see the stars, I can see colored lights my neighbors have put up shining in the darkness like glowing jewels. Sometimes there are artificial candles in the windows, like miniature lighthouses, shining out to draw in both the stranger and the home folks into the warmth and light. It’s a reminder of the saving force of light, which we celebrate in this season of seemingly endless darkness.

Jesus taught that no one lights a candle and hides it under a bushel basket (Matt: 5:15, Mark 4:21b). What good would it do to do that? Not to mention, it would probably cause a fire and burn the house down. Candles are lit to provide light so that we could work a little later than sunset, or so we could read, talk, tell stories, sing, and strengthen bonds between those who share the light. 

Elizabeth Kübler-Ross said that stained-glass windows are beautiful when the sunlight hits them. The light goes from outside in, splashing the interior with patches of color. At night, though, if the building is lit inside, the stained glass glows visible, warm, and welcoming. That is the kind of light Jesus wants us to present, just as he did through his life, ministry, death, and resurrection. 

His light makes this season what it is, a time of expectation, increasing light from the Advent wreath, marking the weeks until the Christ Candle. Then the Baptismal candle is lit, lightening the darkness and bringing hope, love, and unity.

How can we be the little candles that lighten the world? What is it that would make us shine with the love of Christ, visible to those around us? How can we be light-bearers to a world where darkness seems to prevail, even during daylight? 

As we approach the Fourth Sunday in Advent, let us look to the stars that twinkle in the darkness and the candles that lighten it. Next week we will welcome the Light of Christ into the world, an event we commemorate and look forward to every year. 

Let our lights shine among humankind. What a gift it would be for the Newborn King.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, December 19, 2021.

Haggi Speaks, Handel Answers

 In the second year of King Darius, in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai, saying: Speak now to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest, and to the remnant of the people, and say, Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing? Yet now take courage, O Zerubbabel, says the Lord; take courage, O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest; take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts, according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you; do not fear. For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; and I will shake all the nations, so that the treasure of all nations shall come, and I will fill this house with splendour, says the Lord of hosts. The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts. The latter splendour of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of hosts. – Haggi 2:1-9

It is the eve of the Third Sunday of Advent, often called Gaudete Sunday. It marks the halfway point through Advent, a day of some relief from restrictions otherwise observed, and a pink candle and vestments to mark the day. A similar Sunday in Lent, called Laetare Sunday, is the halfway point between Ash Wednesday and Easter. Both Sundays remind us that it will soon be one of the two most significant celebrations in the church year. Those days mark the birth and resurrection of the Son of Man and the Son of God.

Marking both Advent and Lent are passages of scripture that appear in probably the world's most loved oratorio, Messiah. Everybody knows G. F. Handel wrote the music in 1742. Still, few ever know, much less acknowledge the librettist, an English scholar, landowner, and music lover, Charles Jennens (1700-1773). He had written libretti for several other of Handel's works, but Messiah is probably his crowning glory. 

In today's Daily Office reading, Haggi the prophet proclaimed words given to h8im by God and intended for Zerubbabel, governor of Judah, Joshua, the high priest, and all the remnant people. God reminded the people that God was always with the people, just as God had been when the people left Egypt. That presence continued until that day and would continue. 

Probably the most familiar part of the prophecy of Haggi is verses 6-7b, which speak of the reward the faithful would receive, but first, there would be warnings of the seas and lands of all nations. Every time I read those words, Jennens' libretto and Handel's solo for bass play in my ear. The first few phrases are a setting for the following "I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land." The coloratura of the music emphasizes the shaking and trembling, and the listener is drawn into the prophecy itself. 

Advent is about listening to prophecy and heeding it. With the swarms of earthquakes that have been happening lately, this area and reading seem to be calling attention to the fact that God might be trying to get our attention. Ok, I don't really believe that God causes earthquakes, floods, tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, hurricanes, and the like.  I think that the planet and its environment create their own catastrophes. Still, God has often warned us enough in the Bible to be ready and care for our neighbors as we want them to care for us. 

This time of year, this awareness includes responding to natural disasters and offering aid and assistance to the homeless, prisoners, shut-ins, the mentally ill, and those who live in poverty. While it hasn't been an easy year for so many, it is still good to remember the conception and pregnancy of Mary and the birth of Jesus, and the various gifts given in his honor by the rich (in Epiphany) and the poor alike. 

Haggi's words still ring true, and beg to be heard and obeyed, in Advent and throughout the year.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Cafém Saturday, December 11, 2021.

A Blue Christmas

 

Advent has arrived. One Sunday down, three more to go. Christmas lights are going up on homes and businesses (at least, the ones who didn't put theirs up around Labor Day). There are more Christmas songs on the radio, and the temperatures are lower than they were this summer, for which most of us (especially in Arizona) are most profoundly grateful. Commercials urge us to be merry and spend money. Still, a few bring a message that rings more with kindness, contributing to the benefit of others and peace. 

I've always loved Christmas. I loved the trees, the Christmas lights inside and outside, and the decorations people used on their landscapes. I loved shopping for gifts, smelling scents of spices and evergreens in the air, and the fact that quite a large number of folks seemed to be a lot more polite to each other. I notice that around Christmas, quite a few shoppers make way so that someone with just an item or two can go ahead of them. It used to be a kinder, gentler season, and I can only hope that this one is too.

Unfortunately, there are those for whom Christmas is not holly, jolly, or fun. For them, it is a drudgery to get through each day, a futile struggle to put on a happy face or decorate the house. It's a season of more than the usual isolation, away from parties and social occasions in which others revel. For some, it is depressing to be unable to buy Christmas gifts or special seasonal foods. It's exhausting to be around others, trying to portray an enjoyment of something that is far from enjoyable to them. 

For some, it is a time of mourning for loved ones who are no longer with us through death, illness, or distance. For others, the struggle with mental health issues feels like being in a storm-tossed sea with no rescue in sight. It is exhausting enough for those who are ill to move from chair to bed, much less decorate, cook, wrap, and do other typical holiday tasks. 

These are people who are frequently forgotten during this holiday season, including both Advent and Christmas. As we exhibit our personal and family happiness, joy, and anticipation, we don't think much about those who may be in our own circles who are suffering. We drop coins and bills in charity kettles and put canned food and presents into special boxes for the less fortunate. We take names off Giving Trees to ensure deprived children get something with their names on it for Christmas. Sometimes we visit rehabilitation centers and nursing homes to sing carols and spend time with those who are shut-in or alone and in need of care. It makes for a busy season for us, but we do it because it's part of the traditions of this time of year, and we feel good for having done it.

Some churches acknowledge that this season can be much different from how most people appear to feel. The churches deliberately attempt to draw in those who grieve, feel lost, or are alone. The usual date for such services is on the winter solstice, the "Longest Night" of the year. This year that date comes on December 22nd. 

The churches use these services for parishioners and strangers alike to come together to remember, heal, and hope. Worshippers are encouraged to light candles for whatever remembrance they wish to honor. The lighting is soft, and the atmosphere is quiet and peaceful. There are special prayers for the service, offering empathy, comfort, strength, and inclusion for those who are most alone at this time of year. It is a beautiful and uplifting experience. 

Who do you know who might be struggling this year? Is your church offering such a service to the wider community? If so, who could you invite? If not, is it something your church could offer?

Think of it like this. Isn't this showing those who need the most care the very thing Jesus told us to offer? Isn't this showing a love of neighbors that was one of the essential teachings Jesus left for us to do? Yes, we do things for others at Christmas, and yes, they show our love of neighbors and willingness to help with their needs. This gift of service helps a quiet group of people, seldom heard or thought of at a difficult time in their lives. 

It's amazing how uplifting a time of quiet reflection, an offer of remembrance, love, and comfort can be to the lonely, hurting people and even the healthy, happy folks as well. 

Blue Christmas is more than an old song by Elvis. It is a live, living source of comfort and joy. 

Originally published on Speaking to the Soul at Episcopal Café, Saturday, December 4, 2021

Waiting for Advent

 

Thanksgiving night, I sat at my desk, trying to keep the cat from tipping over my glass of iced tea while waiting for the fresh apple pie to cool enough to eat. I had no leftovers, as I’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner with friends on Wednesday, due to work schedules. That dinner was magnificent. I have never seen a turkey more golden brown. The vegetables were wonderful, and the company was the best a person could have. My friend promised to deliver leftovers in a day or so. (The prospect of turkey sandwiches and pumpkin cheesecake makes my mouth water.)

I like Thanksgiving. I like fall. I love almost anything pumpkin and can’t wait to have real turkey, rather than the deli-sliced kind. I love the cooler temperatures this time of year, and as I lay in bed, a breeze came up that set my tube wind chimes ringing. The chimes reminded me to be thankful for family, friends, my cats, the roof over my head, food in the fridge and favorite dishes to come, and really, all the blessings of life. I try to do that every day, but somehow it is much more important to be thankful for specificities of life, not just ‘Thanks for everything, God.”

One thing I always feel grateful for on Thanksgiving is that Advent is close at hand. Advent is my favorite church season. Oh, I love the exuberance of Christmas, the searching of Epiphany, the penitence of Lent, the joy of Easter, and, although not nearly as much, the length of Pentecost season. Still, it is Advent that I love the most. 

Advent is a time for reflection, meditation, and expectation. It is a time that when I hear of Mary’s pregnancy, reminding me of my own, both of us anticipating our births. My “baby” is grown now, but I have pictures of his blond curls, bright blue eyes, and chubby cheeks when he was a baby and toddler. Advent reminds me of these things more poignantly than any other time of year. 

Advent is a quiet time, though people seem busy, buying gifts, decorating, baking cakes, cookies, and pies for gifts and entertaining, attending the kids’ concerts and sports events, and extra meetings and rehearsals. Sometimes it feels hard to catch one’s breath with all the busy-ness around. And yet, Advent begs us to take time to sit and simply be – something we don’t do very often, much to the potential detriment of our spiritual lives.

Advent focuses on the coming of Messiah. It is a history lesson of the teachings of prophets and wise people who weren’t necessarily speaking of Jesus. Christians have been taught these prophecies were fulfilled in Bethlehem and the manger. Still, the stories in Matthew and Luke are the ones we have been taught since childhood, perhaps not factually accurate, we look forward to hearing them again through Advent and into Christmas.

The word “Advent” means “Coming,” as in the first or second coming of Christ. It indicates a forthcoming event or celebration. Purple was once the color for Advent, treated as a shorter penitential season, like Lent. Now a medium (serum) blue is often used, the Virgin Mary’s cloak. Blue represents purity, the sky, and the cloak of an Empress in the Byzantine tradition.

The Advent wreath seen in homes and churches during the season, with three blue or purple candles lit week by week, and a fourth candle being, for “Gaudette Sunday.” On Gaudette Sunday, one takes a breath to lighten before the big push towards Christmas Even and the Christmas season. The larger white candle in the center of the wreath is lit on Christmas Eve, the “Christ candle,” for the arrival of the Christ child.  

What might it take to spend a few minutes every day to meditate on the coming of Christ and what his coming might means to us as Christians in a secular world? What might we give up doing to make time for that meditation or reflection? What might we gain by it? What might we lose by ignoring it?

I’m happy Advent begins tomorrow. I may put my tree up early instead of waiting for a time closer to Christmas, but our family tradition means something to me. I will contemplate traditions and what they mean and quietly try to sit so God has time to get a word in edgewise. I invite you to do the same.

Happy Advent. Celebrate well! And Happy New Year to the church whose liturgical year begins the same day.

God bless.

A Tale of Socks -- and saints

Once upon a time there was a small city, an ordinary small city, full of people, ordinary everyday people.

 

One morning the people of the city woke up to find dirty socks all over. They were in the trees in the park, they were along the sides of the streets in front of the banks and real estate offices and department stores and even the school. There were dirty socks on the steps of one church and draped over the tombstones in the cemetery at another. They were under the overpass and over the underpass. Some flew from car antennas like flags while others lay on the well-manicured lawns of the city's wealthier citizens and on the front steps of the modest homes further out, looking from a distance as if someone had planted a haphazard carpet of flowers everywhere across the manicured grass. Granted, they were colorful socks, all the colors of the rainbow, plus argyle, patterned and even some that looked as if the rainbow had been put together with a Mixmaster. But they all had had things in common: they were dirty, they were everywhere and they didn't belong where they were.

The people of the city had different thoughts about what to do. The Mayor gave a press conference promising to call the City Council into session immediately to study the problem and formulate an appropriate response, hopefully without raising taxes too much in the process. At the morning prayer services the minister and the priest prayed for deliverance from the potential health hazard the socks could pose as well as for the safety and well-being of those who would have to clean up the mess. 

Teachers kept the children inside for fear of air-borne pollutants causing asthma attacks. The Senior Citizen's lunch brigade issued face masks for their delivery people and the hospital emergency room geared up for a full-fledged epidemic. The drug store sold out of antibiotic hand cleaner within minutes. Arguments broke out as to whether someone ought to go pick up just socks of one color or one pattern but leave the rest for someone else. The police called out the forensics team to investigate, take samples and rush back to the lab to perform their arcane rites over possible bits of epithelial cells or stray cat hairs. All in all, it was a gigantic mess and nobody seemed to know quite what to do.

Meanwhile the socks just sat there. People from the golf club looked at them, looked at their own preferred style of socks and decided it wasn't their problem because the ones lying around weren't their socks and wandered off to the bar to at least play the 19th hole since the other 18 were covered in multicolored socks. The mothers in the SUVs taking their children to piano lessons, soccer practice, dance class or karate tried to dodge the ones in the street and warned the children not to touch the socks on their way to and from their various venues. The service workers' union looked at the situation and found a clause in their contracts that precluded their participation in an activity not specifically enumerated as "their job" like fire, rescue, transportation or refuse pickup of items not placed inside the specified containers or community-approved plastic bags.

Even people on the street had their own reactions. Some walked by, looking anywhere but where a sock was and pretending that there really wasn't anything wrong at all. Some trod a careful path through the socks, being careful not to step on any or come in contact with them at all. Some looked out their windows at home and decided they really didn't need that milk from the store and even those who had unbreakable appointments they'd waited months to get thought that perhaps the sore tooth or the routine examination could wait another day or two. 

Many of the office personnel at the various offices called in sick or claimed they couldn't get out of their driveways due to the piles of socks the city's snowplow had tried to use to clear paths for busses and truckloads of emergency equipment and supplies to use. After all, they all thought, those socks didn't belong to them, they weren't responsible for the socks being there so it was up to someone to find out whose socks they were and compel them to clean up the mess. And so the socks sat.

Then somebody noticed something odd. Someone was walking down the street, bending over and actually not only touching but picking up socks and putting them in a brown paper sack. It didn't happen just once but over and over again, one sock at a time. Then there was a little kid pulling a red wagon, also bending over and picking up socks, one at a time, and putting them in the wagon. They weren't even separating them according to color if washing them were their intent. Knee socks, ankle socks, novelty socks, plain, fancy, basic white and wildly colored, they were all the same and all went into the bag or the wagon.

Sighs of relief went up all over town. Everybody returned to their more or less normal busynesses. Almost everybody, that is, all but the person with the sack and the child with the wagon, both of whom, had anybody taken time to notice, weren't wearing any socks at all --- or even any shoes.

Essay originally published on Jericho's Daughter, October 31, 2009.

Published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, November 13, 2021.

Prayer and Study

 

When I pray, I speak to God, and when I study Torah, God speaks to me. – Rabbi Louis Finkelstein

We as Christians talk about prayer often; it's one of the basics of our faith journey. What we don't always think about is the need to study. For us, it isn't just Torah (the first five books of what we call the Old Testament or Hebrew Scriptures), but also the prophecies, poetry, writings (the Tanakh), gospels, epistles and all.

It is one thing to read the Bible straight through and think we've covered it. We read strange stories with people doing things we can't understand and can't figure out how such things got into the word of God. But through study, consultation with commentaries, pastors, theologians, and the like, we begin to understand that there is more here than just a simple reading will provide. 

Through study, we gain an understanding of the world of the Bible as it was. We learn why people sometimes did unthinkable things and how God could condone it, much less authorize it. We learn that even though some of the stories might not be 100% factual (CNN hadn't been invented yet), and many stories were not written down until centuries or even millennia after they were first told, there is a profound truth lying underneath them for us to discover, examine and take to heart. 

The process of theological reflection allows us to work a process where we look at something in four different ways – through the lenses of culture, tradition, personal position, and actions that can be taken. Sometimes, we find a new light on something we've not understood before, or perhaps something we had not considered through prayer and meditation. Prayer can be incorporated into this process, as we invite God into our deliberations, whether personal or communal. 

We shouldn't give up learning just because we've completed high school or college or any kind of formal or informal schooling. If we stop learning, we stop growing. We pray to communicate with God, but we study to understand what God has to tell us through the words of the Bible and prayer.   

As we read in Sirach, "How different the one who devotes himself to the study of the law of the Most High!" (38:34).  Prayer lets us talk to God, but study allows us to be open to God's messages to us.

God bless. 

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, November 7, 2021.

Learning Wisdom

 

Matthew 13:54-58

When I was in college, I remember what a big deal it was to go home, even for a few days or a couple of weeks.  It was good to be back in familiar surroundings, with family members who remembered me from my earliest days and friends I'd grown up with.  I ate things I loved and which were appropriate to the date of my homecoming: turkey and Waldorf salad at Thanksgiving, Smithfield ham, greens, and sugar cookies at Christmas and Easter, and whatever was cooked during spring break. I never went to Florida or Cancun or even Virginia Beach during spring break; we didn't do that in those days, at least, unless our families took us on some trip to visit relatives who lived away from our home. 

During the breaks at home (Except spring break), we were expected to study, write some papers, or practice our instruments or vocal exercises and jury selections. I can't speak for others, but there were too many things going on and too many people and places to visit to do much of any of those. Still, people asked me about what I was learning at school and how I was doing. It was amazing how many inquired about dining hall cuisine. Still, most had never been to college themselves and were curious what they might have missed. 

In Jesus' day, only boys were educated at all, and then it was primarily religious education. It was vital for them to learn scripture and the history of the Jewish people. Practical education was usually done within the family, like learning to mind a store, craft wine, pottery, bricks, fabric, and farm or raise livestock. Girls learned household crafts and how to live frugally. I'm not sure whether girls were taught to read and write. However, if they did, they would have been members of the upper classes. These people would need someone to run a large household or perhaps marry a rich man with many servants she would need to oversee. 

Imagine Jesus coming home from his wanderings for a break. He started teaching in the synagogue, and people were amazed by what he knew and what miracles (deeds of power) he could do. They muttered about Jesus' social standing and his family. While they may have accepted that Joseph was his father, calendar counters would undoubtedly have been whispering behind their hands. The people knew how much Jesus had learned while living at home, so where did he learn all these things? Surely it was not somewhere that taught him to speak of things priests and prophets did not.  Even trained as physicians could not instantaneously heal many of the injuries and conditions Jesus could. 

Jesus, as usual, had the perfect answer. "Prophets are not without honor except in their own country and in their own house." Prophets often had to make hasty exits from various locations because they said things the people wouldn't accept. Sometimes they did things people felt were the works of evil spirits or devils and rejected the message and the messenger to the point of death. Perhaps Jesus had had that kind of education while he was away, just as folks at home sometimes questioned some of the lessons I had learned at college. Lord knows, I wasn't a prophet or a doer of deeds of power, but because of my studies, my views and beliefs changed, sometimes radically. It was easy to identify with Jesus when I remembered that passage. 

Sometimes we find ourselves changing how we think or act based on new information or new experiences. The verse, "And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man" (Luke 2:52), came after Jesus had been found in the Temple by Mary and Joseph, where he was talking to the high officials. Already he had the knowledge to astonish them, so perhaps he was born knowing. Perhaps spending time with John the Baptist taught him new thoughts and perspectives. Maybe God used Jesus's experiences to suggest new wisdom and experiences. 

At any rate, we continue learning throughout our lives. Our minds change a thousand times on things both great and small. Sometimes they are drastic changes, more often small ones. Still, we know so much more than we did when we were six, or sixteen, or even thirty-six. We'll be wiser still when we become the elders for those younger than ourselves. 

Where would you wish your wisdom would come from? What kind of wisdom would you hope to have gained? How would you use that wisdom, and to what purpose? How can we increase our knowledge now on subjects that will be very important in the future?  What wisdom would you ask God to provide you?

God bless us all on our quests for wisdom.

Original format.  Edited copy originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, October 23, 2021.

Promises, Laws, and Faith

For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation.

For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, as it is written, ‘I have made you the father of many nations’)—in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become ‘the father of many nations’, according to what was said, ‘So numerous shall your descendants be.’  - Romans 4:13-18

Abraham is one of the most notable figures in the Hebrew Bible for many reasons. He was shown as an obedient follower of God from the time of his young manhood in Ur of the Chaldees until the day of his death. He was a prosperous man who took in his orphaned nephew, Lot and provided him not only goods but land in the new place God had shown Abraham. He exemplified the desert hospitality by receiving and feeding three strangers who happened upon his camp, not knowing the celestial origin of those visitors.

The visitors gave him a bit of news he could scarcely believe, namely, that he and his elderly wife Sarah would indeed have a son, something that would be unbelievable given their ages. Abraham already had a son, Ishmael, by Sarah's handmaid Hagar. God told Hagar that her son would be the father of multitudes. God later made the same promise to Ismael, which Muslims believe is the founding of Islam.  Jews hold to the second blessing, where God specified that the promise of descendants more numerous than the stars would come through Abraham and Sarah's child. God had promised this, and now was the time for it to become more than just an oral promise.

Paul's letter to the Romans stated that the promise made to Abraham did not come through the law but through faith. Yes, some laws came from God, but the law considered most binding did not really come about until Moses brought the commandments down from the mountain. It was generations later before the entire body of law was set forth. Abraham obeyed God through faith and not just because the law said he had to. For this reason, God appointed him as the foundation of a people who would be dedicated to God and obedient to Him.

We have lots of laws supposedly designed for the protection and well-being of all. Too often, we choose to ignore laws because they are inconvenient or because we feel we have a pressing need to disobey them. The speed limit sign says 45, but we're pretty sure we can get by driving 54 unless we have an emergency when we try to speed up to 60.

There were eventually 613 commandments that descendants of Abraham were supposed to follow. Some were reserved for certain people, namely the priestly clans. Some were positive, like "thou shalt do this…" Others were more negative, such as the injunctions against eating certain foods like shrimp, which probably most of us ignore today. We also wear blended fabrics, and we grow more than one crop in a plot in our backyard gardens. We feel these laws don't apply to us, and they may not for the most part. It isn't so much that God wants us to be slavishly obedient to the law as we are to be obedient by faith instead.

Faith is a tricky word; it means different things to different people. Some have faith that nothing bad will ever happen because they believe in God and/or have made a proper profession of faith using specific words and phrases. Some are more cautious and believe that bad things happen to good people because somehow they have transgressed badly. They must have broken a law, took some action they shouldn’t have or used words that went against what God wanted them to do. Some, though, simply go on faith that God is with them and that God will continue to be with them no matter what happens.

God never told Abraham that if he didn't do this or that he would be punished forever. God never said what would happen if Abraham had not obeyed and taken Isaac to the mountain to be sacrificed; God said to do it, and Abraham obeyed. That obedience was faith and a very tough test of that faith. Faith can mean doing what is right whether we understand the consequences were not. Jonathan Myrick Daniels moved in front of an African American woman as a shotgun blast rang out, and he died in her place. There was no demand from the law that said he had to do what he did. Daniels didn’t think about his action. He simply put his faith in that it was the right thing to do, the belief it was something God would want him to do. He paid for that with his life.

Faith is like just about anything else; it needs to be practiced regularly. We need to review the law periodically as we do in church from time to time by hearing the law and the prophets. It's a way of taking stock, reviewing where we are vs. where we need to be, and readjusting our paths to put us in alignment with what God wants. But we need to practice faith, taking action where necessary but in all things trusting God to be with us. That doesn't mean bad things won't happen to good people; it simply means that God won't make us go through anything alone if we merely look and trust that God is there.

The number of Abraham's descendants may never have reached the number of stars in the sky. He never saw that many people, but he had faith that it would happen if God said it would. That was practicing faith, and it offers us a lesson in it.

I don't think God would tell me to play the lottery if I didn't have enough money to pay the electric bill. No matter how much faith I had, I don’t believe God would choose the winning numbers for me 0r supply the extra cash. I may seem to lack faith in divine protection when I try to cross the street against the light, and cars are coming at me. It's not that I lack faith that God is with me, but I seriously doubt that God would have given me common sense and a sense of consequence if I were not to use it.

I do have faith that God is present and as close as my next breath. That's the best reason I can think of for continuing to breathe.  I don't obey civil law because it suits me; it's more about making things safer for others and myself. I try to obey God's laws, particularly the ones Jesus emphasized, for the same reason. It's a way of loving my neighbor as myself and caring about others more than myself. I wear a mask for that reason, just as I try to drive carefully or treat others with respect and compassion. My faith informs me of what I should do -- and how I should treat others. I may fail often, but God always gives me another chance. 

That's my basic statement of faith -- God gives second chances. For everybody. Always.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, October 16, 2021.

　

Books, Willow Trees, and Heaven

 

I remember the night a hurricane blew close enough to our town to do considerable damage to vegetation around town. Leaves, small branches, and occasional blowing debris cluttered yards, roofs got their share of wind damage and loose shingles. My beautiful willow lay on its side, with roots exposed to the air and its trunk crushing the fence and completely blocking the lower end of our street. I was inconsolable. Today, I can still remember seeing those exposed roots as much as I can the tree as it stood properly, shading that part of the yard. Had it blown down in the opposite direction, it would have fallen on my bedroom and very probably hurt me very badly, physically as well as emotionally.

It occurred to me today that I felt some of the grief I had when I awoke that morning and saw my friend dying and waiting to be cut up by the cleanup crew and hauled away they could open the road. It was a feeling of disruption, loss of something precious, and a signal of change that was strange and unsettling in the eyes of a child. Mostly I remembered how beautiful it was and how much I would miss it. The world would never be quite the same again.

I had grown up in a large extended family of older folks, so I was no stranger to an aunt or uncle “going to be with Jesus” every year. It was an opportunity to see all my favorite relatives at one event instead of visiting them individually every few Sundays in rotation. I would miss the one who was being buried, but there were so many living ones to enjoy, even if I were only four or five or six. I knew death meant I wouldn’t see them again until I died and went to be with Jesus myself and had a large group of relatives waiting for me at the Golden Gate. Still, I never learned that favorite things, like pets or trees, would be with those relatives. 

I could never have articulated the difference between Christian souls and those without them. I knew people who weren’t “Christian” in the same way my church taught, the ones who would go to hell because they didn’t “Know” Jesus.  But the idea of dogs, cats, trees, rocks, or rivers and creeks going to be familiar again in Heaven never occurred to me. It seems they didn’t have souls, and besides, Heaven would be so much more glorious than anything earth could produce. We’d be so busy praising God that we wouldn’t think about things we’d left behind – or that had left us.

Maybe it is fanciful, but I wonder from time to time what Heaven would be like. Oh, I know the Bible talks about many mansions, streets paved with gold, and such, but I don’t want a mansion. Am I sacrilegious to ask for a room large enough for some books, cats, plants, and not far from woods with familiar trees and maybe a willow tree outside my window?  It would be a place where our dog during my childhood, Bitsy, would lay down comfortably with all the cats I’ve had and loved, the windows would have prisms that scattered rainbows all over, and comfortable chairs to sit and entertain (and be entertained by) friends I’ve missed for so long? I’ll happily sing God’s praises in chant, Baroque polyphony, and familiar hymns. Still, I’d also hope there would be a saltwater river nearby with waves lapping on the sand to walk in and think or pray or both.  

God, if wishes count, could my willow tree be there too? And maybe the pine tree overlooking my river where You and I met so often when I was an adolescent? Oh, and could there be a village like Three Pines with warm and friendly people, a sense of history, and a little Anglican church, for meditation and occasional concerts? By the way, I’d love to have about half the town I grew up in as neighbors as well? I hope that what I believe is really true, that hell will be empty, and all that I loved would be in Heaven. I don’t think it would genuinely be Heaven without them, human, animal, deciduous, evergreen, and all.

Thank you for listening, God. 

 

* Penny, Louise, How the Light Gets In, (2013), St. Martin’s Press, New York. Kindle Edition.

 Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, October 9, 2021.