“On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .”
Today is the sixth day of Christmas. We are halfway through the season. Next Tuesday evening we will hold our annual Twelfth-Night party in the parish hall. We will gather for food, fun, and the ever popular gift exchange and theft (for those who want to participate). We will also hear the story of the visit of the wise men and the tale of the one who was running just a little late.
But while today is the sixth day of Christmas, the world around us has already moved on as Christmas decorations have been taken down, you can't pay a DJ to play a Christmas song, and Valentine's Day decorations are beginning to appear. If in Advent our challenge is to hold off the Christmas crush and spend time in expectant and patient waiting, then our challenge in the Christmas season is to celebrate it fully and enthusiastically. But that's easier said than done.
So I started thinking about this song. Most people probably can't name the gifts in the correct order beyond day five. Most people only get to day five because of that long, drawn out, “Fiiiiivvvvveee golden riiiiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggsssss” (thank you, Miss Piggy). Most people I know actually detest this song; it seems to be the Christmas version of “99 Bottles of Beer,” never ending and rather annoying.
There is also a cute but false story that the verses have hidden meanings as a way of teaching the faith and avoiding execution (true love = God; verse 1 = Jesus; verse 2 = Old/New Testaments; verse 3 = faith, hope, charity; verse 4 = Gospels/Evangelists; etc.) As I said, that's cute, but not actually true.
But the song, for all its faults, can serve a purpose – and that is to remind us that the twelve days of Christmas do not end on Christmas Day but begin. Our calendar gives us twelve days, from Christmas Day until the day before Epiphany, from December 25 until January 5, in which to celebrate the birth of the Savior. This is the time we should be hosting Christmas parties and caroling around the neighborhood. And even though this wasn't a secret catechism song with hidden meanings, we can still think of “my true love” as God.
In the beginning, God created. In the beginning was the Word. God so loved the world. Above all else, Scripture should be seen as a love story between God and his people. Yes, there are ups and downs and definite problems, but it is a story about God calling the people of his creation back into his arms.
So on this sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me six geese a laying. On this sixth day of Christmas we have been given not geese, but eggs. These six eggs, each representing the hope of new life, are a fragile bit of creation you can hold in your hand and say, “In the beginning.” These six eggs can remind us of our own life, our own Christmas beginnings, that allow us to ask, “If this egg represents a new life born this Christmas season, how will I live for God?”
This is the sixth day of Christmas. As we move through the next six days, I would encourage you to take a look at the rest of the words of that long, sometimes annoying song, and ask yourself, “How can I use the gift my true love gave to me to proclaim God is with us?”
Merry Christmas
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
December 23, 2015
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!’
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
And to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.
Blessings to you this Christmas season.
In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
‘Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!’
When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.’ So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.
And to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.
Blessings to you this Christmas season.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
December 16, 2015
God is in the lost and found business.
A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy, W. Paul Jones, p. 92
That is not new to us. After all, Jesus told the parable of the one lost sheep. He also told the parable of the son who was lost and then found, and the rejoicing that ensued upon that son being found. We know that God seeks to bring all people back within that original loving embrace that was present at the beginning of creation.
But this is also difficult for us. It's difficult because, short of some Paul-like miracle of a blinding encounter of Christ out on the open road, God tends to work through us. That means that we are the ones doing the seeking. We are, in essence, an Ecclesiastical Search and Rescue Team; and anyone who has gone on a search and rescue mission knows that it's hard work.
But it is also difficult because, besides being on the S&R team, we are also manning the hospital in which those who have been found can recover. It's difficult because we are the ones who have to deal with those struggling through various issues and complications, doubts and fears, and all sorts of other conditions we may or may not have any experience of.
This has been a difficult week for me as I have dealt with a steady stream of lost people – a homeless woman requesting shelter that I couldn't provide, a transgender woman for whom I've been able to give minimal support, a man trying to hold it together while commuting to Winston and needing his car repaired, a woman living from one shut off notice to the next trying to come up with enough funds to keep things left on. Some weeks are better than others.
Sometimes I can help. Sometimes the help I offer isn't what the person is willing to take. Sometimes I can't help. Sometimes I don't want to help.
But in every instance I need to remember that God is in the lost and found business, and I am part of the Search and Rescue Team. In every instance, I need to remember to not be annoyed because those people aren't using the same map I am (if they're using a map at all). And in every instance, I need to remember that a search and rescue is often a long process.
God is in the lost and found business. We are the Search and Rescue Team. This may take awhile.
Amen.
A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy, W. Paul Jones, p. 92
That is not new to us. After all, Jesus told the parable of the one lost sheep. He also told the parable of the son who was lost and then found, and the rejoicing that ensued upon that son being found. We know that God seeks to bring all people back within that original loving embrace that was present at the beginning of creation.
But this is also difficult for us. It's difficult because, short of some Paul-like miracle of a blinding encounter of Christ out on the open road, God tends to work through us. That means that we are the ones doing the seeking. We are, in essence, an Ecclesiastical Search and Rescue Team; and anyone who has gone on a search and rescue mission knows that it's hard work.
But it is also difficult because, besides being on the S&R team, we are also manning the hospital in which those who have been found can recover. It's difficult because we are the ones who have to deal with those struggling through various issues and complications, doubts and fears, and all sorts of other conditions we may or may not have any experience of.
This has been a difficult week for me as I have dealt with a steady stream of lost people – a homeless woman requesting shelter that I couldn't provide, a transgender woman for whom I've been able to give minimal support, a man trying to hold it together while commuting to Winston and needing his car repaired, a woman living from one shut off notice to the next trying to come up with enough funds to keep things left on. Some weeks are better than others.
Sometimes I can help. Sometimes the help I offer isn't what the person is willing to take. Sometimes I can't help. Sometimes I don't want to help.
But in every instance I need to remember that God is in the lost and found business, and I am part of the Search and Rescue Team. In every instance, I need to remember to not be annoyed because those people aren't using the same map I am (if they're using a map at all). And in every instance, I need to remember that a search and rescue is often a long process.
God is in the lost and found business. We are the Search and Rescue Team. This may take awhile.
Amen.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
December 9, 2015
The Christian faith must be firm that the dwelling place of God is with creation, just as the dwelling place of humanity is in God. To be able to live within this understanding, our senses need to be purged – for the modern world has dulled them, by excesses of noise, sights, and images flooding our senses into insensitivity.
A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy, W. Paul Jones, p. 86
How is your Advent going? Are you preparing properly for the Christmas feast? Do you have lights strung, trees decorated, lists checked off, cards in the mail, and cookies baked?
This, of course, is not the point of Advent. The world in general, and advertisers in particular, will tell you that the above is most certainly the point of getting ready for Christmas, with no thought of what it means to live into the already and not yet, and certainly no thought of celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas.
We are continually inundated with, as Fr. Jones points out, an excess of noise, sights, and images that dull our senses. We get it everywhere, but here's some particular information regarding advertising. In a 3 hour, 13 minute college football game played earlier this season, there were 24 commercial breaks, 136 total commercials, an average of more than 5 commercials per break, and just over 50 minutes of air time for commercials. A 2013 study showed that, during an average 30-minute TV broadcast, there were 14 minutes and 15 seconds of commercial time; with an increase in the number of 15-second spots, thereby increasing the number of commercials people see. And in November, 2013, Business Insider estimated that children between the ages of 2 and 11 see over 1000 fast food commercials.
That's a lot of excess noise.
Part of Advent is learning to slow down and wait. Part of Advent is learning to live with expectant hope. Part of Advent is knowing that God is with us in both the already and the not yet. Part of Advent is recognizing that God dwells with us here in creation, and that we are meant to dwell with God in holy space.
Where, then, can we go to find holy space? Maybe the better question is, “Where can't we go to find holy space?” The answer is, “You can go anywhere, as long as you work to make the space holy.”
Begin the day with quiet Morning Prayer, either at home or in the chapel. Turn off the background noise and meditate in silence on something good that happened, or a time when you saw God at work during the day. Sit at a bus stop and pray for the people rushing by you. Go to a park and listen to the sound of God's creation. Stop for 15 minutes and pray the Noonday Office (BCP 103).
We are surrounded by holy space. The problem, as Fr. Jones points out, is that we have let the modern world dull our ability to see them, hear them, and find them. This Advent, may you find a holy space in which you make time to actively wait, in which you learn to live into the already and not yet, and in which your dulled senses are flooded, resharpened, and refocused to experience God in the mundane.
Amen.
A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy, W. Paul Jones, p. 86
How is your Advent going? Are you preparing properly for the Christmas feast? Do you have lights strung, trees decorated, lists checked off, cards in the mail, and cookies baked?
This, of course, is not the point of Advent. The world in general, and advertisers in particular, will tell you that the above is most certainly the point of getting ready for Christmas, with no thought of what it means to live into the already and not yet, and certainly no thought of celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas.
We are continually inundated with, as Fr. Jones points out, an excess of noise, sights, and images that dull our senses. We get it everywhere, but here's some particular information regarding advertising. In a 3 hour, 13 minute college football game played earlier this season, there were 24 commercial breaks, 136 total commercials, an average of more than 5 commercials per break, and just over 50 minutes of air time for commercials. A 2013 study showed that, during an average 30-minute TV broadcast, there were 14 minutes and 15 seconds of commercial time; with an increase in the number of 15-second spots, thereby increasing the number of commercials people see. And in November, 2013, Business Insider estimated that children between the ages of 2 and 11 see over 1000 fast food commercials.
That's a lot of excess noise.
Part of Advent is learning to slow down and wait. Part of Advent is learning to live with expectant hope. Part of Advent is knowing that God is with us in both the already and the not yet. Part of Advent is recognizing that God dwells with us here in creation, and that we are meant to dwell with God in holy space.
Where, then, can we go to find holy space? Maybe the better question is, “Where can't we go to find holy space?” The answer is, “You can go anywhere, as long as you work to make the space holy.”
Begin the day with quiet Morning Prayer, either at home or in the chapel. Turn off the background noise and meditate in silence on something good that happened, or a time when you saw God at work during the day. Sit at a bus stop and pray for the people rushing by you. Go to a park and listen to the sound of God's creation. Stop for 15 minutes and pray the Noonday Office (BCP 103).
We are surrounded by holy space. The problem, as Fr. Jones points out, is that we have let the modern world dull our ability to see them, hear them, and find them. This Advent, may you find a holy space in which you make time to actively wait, in which you learn to live into the already and not yet, and in which your dulled senses are flooded, resharpened, and refocused to experience God in the mundane.
Amen.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
December 2, 2015
Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen?
Romans 8:24b,c
These words from St. Paul came to me at some point on Monday.
In the early morning hours of November 15, the gas to the building was shut off when someone called Avista to report a smell of gas coming from the building. After a series of phone calls and various people coming to the church to inspect one thing or another, it was determined that the two furnaces used to heat the church proper needed to be replaced. I contacted the company we have used, it seems, forever, and they gave us a bid to replace the furnaces. I presented that bid to the Vestry on November 19. I was hopeful that I could schedule a furnace replacement before Thanksgiving.
The Vestry, however, required at least two other comparative bids. So I had Merle call a few other companies to arrange that. On Monday, November 23, three other heating and air companies came out to look at the furnaces and generate bids. Two out of the three returned bids by Wednesday, November 25. As it turned out, the Vestry made the right call, and Caveman Heating and Air gave us a bid at a substantially lower price for essentially the same equipment. I called Caveman and was given an install date of Tuesday, December 1, at 8 a.m.
And on Monday, November 30, I began hoping. I was hoping that the crew showed up on time. I was hoping that there wouldn't be any “unforeseen problems.” I was hoping that the crew didn't go over budget, causing us to renegotiate. I was hoping they didn't drop the furnaces going down stairs. I was hoping they wouldn't break anything. I was hoping the furnaces would run correctly. As I write this, I am hoping they will be finished with the install today.
The crew did show up on time (early, even), and when they finish installing the furnaces, my hope will be complete. At that point it will no longer be hope, because the hope I had about all I mentioned will have been realized; or, in Paul's language, it will be seen. The furnaces will be installed. Nothing was dropped. Nothing will have been broken. They will be running smoothly. And we will once again be worshiping God inside the church proper, unconcerned about needing to wear parkas.
Advent is a time of hope. It is a time of looking back at the birth of Christ and hoping that that little baby can change both our lives and the world. It is a time of looking forward to the coming of Christ and hoping that that man can change both our lives and the world. But we aren't there yet. There are still wars and rumors of wars. There is still fear and trembling. There are still signs in the heavens. And still we hope.
One difference between the hope I had for new furnaces and the hope I have for Christ to be made known to the world, is that I played no part in the actual installation of the furnaces. Unlike that furnace installation, you and I both have parts to play in making Christ known to the world. And when that finally happens, our hope will be complete.
It's Advent. What are you hoping for?
Amen.
Romans 8:24b,c
These words from St. Paul came to me at some point on Monday.
In the early morning hours of November 15, the gas to the building was shut off when someone called Avista to report a smell of gas coming from the building. After a series of phone calls and various people coming to the church to inspect one thing or another, it was determined that the two furnaces used to heat the church proper needed to be replaced. I contacted the company we have used, it seems, forever, and they gave us a bid to replace the furnaces. I presented that bid to the Vestry on November 19. I was hopeful that I could schedule a furnace replacement before Thanksgiving.
The Vestry, however, required at least two other comparative bids. So I had Merle call a few other companies to arrange that. On Monday, November 23, three other heating and air companies came out to look at the furnaces and generate bids. Two out of the three returned bids by Wednesday, November 25. As it turned out, the Vestry made the right call, and Caveman Heating and Air gave us a bid at a substantially lower price for essentially the same equipment. I called Caveman and was given an install date of Tuesday, December 1, at 8 a.m.
And on Monday, November 30, I began hoping. I was hoping that the crew showed up on time. I was hoping that there wouldn't be any “unforeseen problems.” I was hoping that the crew didn't go over budget, causing us to renegotiate. I was hoping they didn't drop the furnaces going down stairs. I was hoping they wouldn't break anything. I was hoping the furnaces would run correctly. As I write this, I am hoping they will be finished with the install today.
The crew did show up on time (early, even), and when they finish installing the furnaces, my hope will be complete. At that point it will no longer be hope, because the hope I had about all I mentioned will have been realized; or, in Paul's language, it will be seen. The furnaces will be installed. Nothing was dropped. Nothing will have been broken. They will be running smoothly. And we will once again be worshiping God inside the church proper, unconcerned about needing to wear parkas.
Advent is a time of hope. It is a time of looking back at the birth of Christ and hoping that that little baby can change both our lives and the world. It is a time of looking forward to the coming of Christ and hoping that that man can change both our lives and the world. But we aren't there yet. There are still wars and rumors of wars. There is still fear and trembling. There are still signs in the heavens. And still we hope.
One difference between the hope I had for new furnaces and the hope I have for Christ to be made known to the world, is that I played no part in the actual installation of the furnaces. Unlike that furnace installation, you and I both have parts to play in making Christ known to the world. And when that finally happens, our hope will be complete.
It's Advent. What are you hoping for?
Amen.
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