Lone Wild Bird meets Shine...

Ok so I am a techie-wannabe... here's the opening clip from our Thanksgiving Eve gig (and my first experiment with YouTube uploading.) There were a few glitches (as you can hear) but overall lots of fun.

I hope to pull together the best of this gig in the next few days - it was a 90 minute show that was pretty raggedy but had some sweet and soulful moments. More soon...

Thoughts about ends and beginnings...

I had a most insightful moment today about the changed and changing nature of ministry in my faith community. This morning we laid to rest one of the town's prominent native sons - a person who contributed greatly to the social well-being of the Berkshires - and who inspired hundreds of people to turn out to pay their respects. It was an honor to the legacy of his work, a tribute to his family and wife and an honest public display of sorrow and loss. It was also a privilege for me to assist the family as they begin the journey from sadness into grief and beyond.

Now, two sociological insights struck me as the ceremony matured:

+ First, the Sanctuary was filled with people from the business and philanthropic community in the region who had worked and played with the deceased over the past 50 years. They were - and sometimes still are - the captains of industry - who have a deep and abiding love for the Berkshires. Back in the day, many of these movers and shakers were members of our congregation, but not any more and their absence helped me appreciate how hard it must be for those of a certain generation to own and accept this change.

Our church, you see, is no longer the center of the elite. As a faith community, we are neither the "country club at prayer" as people used to say nor the heart of the town's spiritual life. Today - like much of the formerly "main line" but now "side line" churches - we are often barely relevant as the world rushes past our doors. To be sure, we are the first church - an historic fact born of a time when Massachusetts towns could not be chartered without a Congregational church - but contemporary folk have little to no understanding of what that means for 2009.

During my first month in town, for example, I discovered that most of the merchants on main street don't know where our building is located even though we are at the center of the town square (hence my commitment to informally identifying ourselves as First Church on Park Square.) But we still have an enormous job before us because on Thanksgiving Eve even the desk sergeant at the police station right behind our church couldn't tell people where to find our folk music concert! It would seem that the days of being at the heart of it all are over.

Now, I can see this because as the new kid on the block I have beginners mind about the role of the church; but for the once elite, this change is problematic and unsettling - so much so that some choose to act like it never happened. We have endured a massive cultural and spiritual shift in a very short period of time. Part of my calling, therefore, has been to encourage the whole church to embrace the various stages of grief on the road towards renewal. Another part of this calling is to help others not only own our new reality but also find God's mission for us in this new context. As the book of Revelation puts it: what is the Spirit saying to the church today! And while I think we have turned a corner in embracing our new reality, seeing the old world in action today helped me appreciate all the various layers.

+ Second, there was a surprising unanimity of comments from those retired folks or those who have taken new jobs: "Oh, we just ache for the loss that has happened here." Simultaneous translation: we - and this church - were once at the center of everything; we had the money and power to make things happen and now that is all gone away. One of the clergy who had been ordained here back in the early 50s even blurted out something about how "it must be so hard to continue after the great days of this church are over." (NOTE: I wanted to ask, where did you learn to do such arrogant theology but simply bit my tongue observing the old axiom that you simply have to pick your battles, yes? I this too harsh? Maybe...)

I do not want to suggest in any way, shape or form that those who made these comments are somehow morally bankrupt or spiritually inept. (Except, perhaps, those with some theologicaly training who fail to distinquish between culture and context?!!?) They are not. They are good-hearted and often faithful people. At the same time it is equally true that the great days of this church ARE NOT OVER. Our changes are not a curse, but a blessing.

For what has happened here - and throughout much of North America -is is not a tragedy but an opportunity to be authentic to the Living God in the spirit of Christ in this generation. Theologian Douglas John Hall has clearly articulated that the charism of this time for once powerful churches is that we no long have to maintain the illusion of influence. Because we are no longer the "country club at prayer," we can embrace a mission with those that remain in the region. We can learn how to live and do ministry together. And it will be grounded in partnership, not noblesse oblige or civil religion - and that is another huge shift.

Two biblical texts come to my mind. Jeremiah 29 speaks of God's call to build houses in what had become a place of exile: put down roots in your new reality - take wives and husbands and have sons and daughters with those in your new land - and seek the welfare of the city... for in its welfare you will find your welfare, too. This is an invitation and call to live in the present, not look towards the past. It is a challenge to let go of the tears of weeping that took place by the waters of Babylon and get on with creating new life beyond the grief.

The other comes from the gospel of Matthew where in chapter 16: 3 Jesus speaks to the religious and social leaders of his day saying: "When evening comes, you say, 'It will be fair weather, for the sky is red,' and in the morning, 'Today it will be stormy, for the sky is red and overcast.' You know how to interpret the appearance of the sky, but you cannot interpret the signs of the times." That is, you know about the past and certain immediate realities, but you can't and won't deal with the big picture. My old buddies in AA are clear: if you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got. 2010 is very different from 1950 and we can lament the passing of time (or not) but we can't escape it.

To say it was a fascinating time - in addition to the blessings of comfort born of the liturgy - would be an understatement. I give thanks to God for the whole of it.

(credits: various pictures of Pittsfield, MA as it has changed.)

Advent aesthetics and all that...

Dianne (loving spouse and partner) and I just had a breakfast conversation about the very different aesthetics people bring to Christmas/Advent music. We both tend to avoid the traditional shtick of the season as too sentimental, overblown and often offensive. Our tastes run toward esoterica, Celtic, traditional English choirs, guitar and Windham Hill collections. This great new song by Loreena McKennit just about gets it all right.

Now I have nothing against Perry Como, Andy Williams and the over-the-top recordings of Andre Boecelli, but they don't feed my soul. So, over the years we have amassed a huge collection of quiet, reflective and joyful Christmas recordings. We even have some of the great weird collections like Dr. Demento or things like "Santa Do the Mambo" and Phil Spector's Christmas.

Working retail this year, Di decided to bring some of our tunes into work and spent the better part of a day last week making CD mixes. It was her hope that besides all the regular stuff, there might be room for something more meditative. But the jury is now in from her store where the word is: "I would rather listen to NOTHING than this crap!" Well, we knew that we tended towards the more obscure tunes at a Lessons and Carols celebration - and while I own Bing Crosby's Christmas album it rarely gets played (the cover is the real treasure) - but we didn't realize how outside the norm our tastes had become.

It reminds me of the time daughter Jesse, now 30+, came home from seminary day care one day and announced with profound 5 year old indignation: "Do you know what I just heard? That some people - on Thanksgiving - actually eat... TURKEYS! Can you imagine?!!?" (We were hardcore vegetarians at the time and her "isolation"prompted a quick rethinking and a search for greater balance.) Hard to be in the world, yes, but not always part of it?

Alas, it takes all types and explains the on-going tension we both feel during much of this season, too. To revel in the journey - the waiting and the anticipation of Advent - is a counter cultural act when much of the culture is charging towards instant gratification (at least nobody was trampled to death at WalMart on Black Friday this year!)

I sense that there is also a melancholia to Advent that seems to be discouraged in our quest for "comfort and joy." For while I can't get enough of "In the bleak midwinter," I also can't forget that someone once told me after worship, "I just can't take too many of those minor key hymns... too sad." Which makes me wonder how it is we learn to hold both our sorrow alongside our celebration: if not church, where?

I guess I'll just have to watch the "Charlie Brown Christmas" show and skip "Frosty" and "Rudolf" once again this year...

Merry Christmas Baby...

Sometimes - often about this time in Advent - I get goofy and find that the only song that helps give me some perspective is NOT anything from my spiritual traditon... only THIS one works. It makes me shake my booty and just smile and just give thanks for being alive.

Now, don't get me wrong, I understand the theology about Advent vs. Christmas songs and not jumping the gun - and mostly I support the tradition at church and at home. But damn... sometimes "O come, o come Emmanuel" just doesn't have enough juice for this old man. I need something like a shot from the Boss while I'm waitin' on the King.

And how 'bout the way Christina makes it smoke in this version with Dr. John working the 88s... damn can that girl sing!

Ok.... now I'm back to Advent (mostly... for now.)

Winter...

Yesterday my brother, Philip, started treatment for prostate cancer. That is sobering news. He had a rough go with the anesthesia - and the whole process of adding a radioactive "seed" inside his body was tough, too. He is recovering at home and will be away from work until after the New Year. I once called him my "little brother" - he is three years younger - until at 15 he said, "knock that shit off, man, I am your younger brother - ain't nothing little 'bout me!" And he was right.

+ It made me think of all the loss in the family over just this past year: Dianne's mother, my colleague and friend at church, Vicki, other church members. Now we hear that my daughter's husband's grandma, sweet Loretta, is wrestling with a tough form of cancer, too. And let's not forget my dad's declining health.

+ As Scott Cairns has noted, when these kinds of truths reach up and grab you they can either be a healthy wake up call or an invitation to depression. Most of the time, after a good cry, they wake me up to the blessings all around me in addition to the pain and loss.

Today it snowed - and rained - and was totally nasty outside. At the same time, it was lovely and quiet, too. That both/and thing happening all over the place, yes? So, after snow blowing and shoveling (twice) I have a great driveway that is safe and my shoulder aches... hmmmm. It is winter - outside and in my soul - and now I have to go pick up Dianne who had to walk to work this morning in the snow because we couldn't get out of the driveway.

Life is funny - and good - and often hard all at the same time. I have always loved this song by Lou Reed - What's Good from Magic and Loss - an album I fell in love with at the same time my sister, Linda, was dying of cancer. Thank God for St. Lou... (this skips a little but is still worth it to me.)

The good, the bad and the ugly: ways we have avoided Mary

NOTE: Here are this week's sermon notes for Advent Three 2009. Once again the lectionary gospel takes up John the Baptist's story while I take a left turn to think about Mary. I have been blessed and nourished by both Jaraslav Pelikan's Mary Through the Centuries and Elizabeth Johnson's Truly Our Sister: A Theology of Mary in the Communion of Saints. I have borrowd heavily from Johnson this week and commend her work.

Two special invitaitons - in addition to worship at 10:30 am on Sunday: 1) At 5:00 pm we will host a Taize worship to enter the spirit of peace. 2) At 6:00 pm, the wider ecumencial community in Pittsfield will gather on Park Square (right in front of our church) for a quiet vigil to support the work taking place in Copenhagen re: healing global warming. You are all welcome to join us for any and all.

This morning I thought that our conversation in faith should be called something like: why Protestants have avoided Mary – the good, the bad and the ugly reasons about her invisibility in our tradition. You see, I am of the opinion that no one religious tradition has a monopoly upon the truth – not Roman Catholics, not Protestants, not the Orthodox nor the Anglicans – for how could we be so arrogant as to say that we – and we alone – have the definitive wisdom about God Almighty!

+ By very definition God is beyond our ability to comprehend, yes? That is part of what it means to acknowledge the Lord – we let God be God – trusting and knowing that we are not.

+ All we can say, therefore, is that we have some unique insights – some special treasures – that have proven helpful to people of faith over the generations. Simultaneously we must also say: now we see as through a glass darkly… only later shall we see face to face.

I think St. Paul is on to something when he tells us: Beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Emphasize these things… Then rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything… and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Using Paul’s counsel as a starting point – that is, emphasizing what is good and true and beautiful and just – let’s try to tenderly unpack some of the reasons why our little section of the Christian family has avoided the blessings of Mary. Because, you see, she can be a model for us – a mentor and spiritual friend on our journey towards faith – if we have eyes to see and hearts to recognize her authentic testimony.

Now right out of the gate I need to articulate one of the ugly realities: namely that many of us have never considered Mary carefully because that sounds too Catholic. For much of our history we have defined ourselves as NOT them even though this isn’t what our spiritual heirs in the Reformation intended when it came to Mary or being the church. Did you know that Martin Luther, John Calvin, Ulrich Zwingli and the Wesley Brothers all acknowledged and honored the beauty and importance of Mary as a model of faith? Luther went so far as to call her a “spiritual mother” for people seeking the path of Jesus and later said:

She is the noblest gem in Christianity after Christ… She is wisdom and holiness personified. And we can never honor her enough… although our honor and praise must be given to her in such a way as to injure neither Christ nor the Scriptures… she is, you see, more than Eve or Sarah, blessed above all for the sake of Christ. Mary does not wish that we come to her, but through her to God(www.davidmacd.com/catholic/martin_luther_on_mary.htmdmacd.com/catholic/martin_luther_on_mary.htm)

Our tradition has always considered Mary to be a sacred model for faithful living – she shows us how one ordinary and humble soul can become extraordinary – by her openness to the Holy Spirit. For it is the Holy Spirit, you see, not Mary all by herself who creates new life in a bold way. The Holy Spirit brought about blessing in her much like the Spirit brought order to the chaos of creation in the book of Genesis: In the beginning… the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep until the Spirit of the Lord swept over the waters and brought order to the chaos – separated the light from the darkness – and God called it good.

Theologian and scholar, Elizabeth Johnson, puts it like this in her book, Truly Our Sister, where she writes that the stories of Mary “draw their power from the creation stories in Genesis.”

Just as the Spirit of God moved over the chaotic waters and danced a whole new world into being (in the beginning), the same creative Spirit moved over the dead Jesus after the Cross, the unknown Jesus at the start of his ministry and the womb of Mary to create a new world…(for just) as the Spirit of the Lord hovered over formless matter when the miracle of creation took place, so, too, there is a new creative act of God when Jesus is born… and while this requires the human cooperation of a poor Galilean couple it does not diminish the power of divine initiative that blesses the whole world with a new act of creation by God. (p. 235)

Are you with me? Am I being clear? All Christians – of every tradition and denomination – have celebrated the creative grace and blessings that Mary brings to birth when she embraces the Holy Spirit of God in profound and mystical ways.

So why does she remained so invisible to us? I have to believe that Ronald Reagan’s old speech writer, Peggy Noonan, was right on the money in her autobiography, What I Saw at the Revolution, when she called out our historic Catholic prejudice as the anti-Semitism of American intellectuals. That’s an ugly thing to say and yet too many of our Protestant habits and opinions are based on fear and ignorance rather than truth or insight. Too many of our traditions emerged from trepidation of copying “them,” too.

• And even when there are serious disagreements about doctrine – and there remains a fair amount of legitimate theological sparring that needs to take place between Protestants and Catholics – the popular expression is more often than not slanderous rather than thoughtful and gentle.

• You can hear it in the tone and snarl when some of us say, “That so…. Catholic!”

So let me call to your attention to a few brief biblical stories about Mary that might help us redress this offense and correct our ugly ignorance. Each is a small picture that offers a clue about who Mary might become for us: like pieces of a mosaic, theologian Elizabeth Johnson calls them “tesserae… a sliver that alone is no more than a spot of color or a minute marking… (But) when assembled together display a picture or intelligent design ever more clearly the further back you stand… The goal is a multi-faceted, living, memory-image of Mary within the cloud of witnesses that shares in the “danger” (of her lived experience)” … and the wisdom she awakens in the resistance, birth and hope she offers all human being and the earth as one beloved of God. (p. 216-17)

First of all, let me call your attention to the oldest story about Mary in the Bible – a story from the gospel of Mark found in chapter three – that is rather surprising. (Mark 3: 20-21/31-35) I call this the oldest story because Mark is the first gospel – collected in some written form by about 65 CE – and provides an outline for both Matthew and Luke which come later. Interestingly, none of the earliest sources written by Paul just 30 years after Christ’s death even mentions Mary, but Mark does in a fascinating way that can be helpful in our mosaic. He tells us about a time when Mary grew worried about her oldest son. His preaching and ministry had begun to rattle the status quo:

• He was healing the wounded, feeding the hungry and calling into question both the religious and political authority of his day.

• The spiritual leadership of Jerusalem, in fact, had started to say that he was in league with Satan and the large crowds he called together were becoming troublesome.

Do you recall this story? It goes on to tell us that Mary had begun to fear not only that the life of Jesus was in danger, but also that he might be losing his mind. So, as any loving mother would do, she gathers the family to go after Jesus and try to bring him home for a rest. And when the crowd tells him that momma and her brood are there to bring him home, he says, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking around at the crowd he adds in a way that almost “disowns” his blood kin: “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of God is brother and sister and mother to me.”

Now most commentary on this first story about Mary emphasize that “blood ties do not guarantee a place in the community of Christ’s disciples, only loving and acting on behalf of the kingdom of God do… without distinction of sex or gender, infertility or maternity, physical kinship or family connections” a new community is offered to those who seek the will of God. (Johnson, p. 217) And this is a strong and vital piece of the puzzle – in first century Palestine this kind of inclusive family was revolutionary – but it is not the whole story.

• For in addition to telling us about a new kind of family, it also tells us that at first Mary didn’t really understand her son’s ministry. Traditional piety likes to emphasize that Mary was always faithful to Jesus, but this story suggests that she didn’t get it in the beginning.

• Which ought to be good news for you and me, right? Sometimes we don’t get it either, but that doesn’t mean God has quit on us. So there is grace even in her confusion.

What’s more this story also speaks of a woman of great courage and conviction, willing to risk offending her child – and go up against the violence of Rome – to save his life. Do you see that?
Very, very important: Mary is a person of courage, compassion and commitment. “No submissive handmaid, her memory moves in solidarity with women everywhere who act critically according to their best lights to seek the well-being of those they love.” (Johnson, p. 221)

What do you think? Does that help flesh out something of who the real Mary might be beyond legend or sentimental piety? Let me suggest two more pieces to this mosaic of Mary, ok?

• Have you ever read the genealogy of Jesus shared at the opening of the gospel according to St. Matthew? Most of the time people skip right over this unless they are in a Bible study and even then their eyes glaze over.

• But here’s the point: in the long list of who begat whom are the names of four wild women – none of whom are the traditional matriarchs of Israel – Sarah, Hagar, Rebecca, Leah and Rachel – but rather they are: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth and the wife of Uriah whom we know as Bathsheba.

Without going into great detail, these four women were scandalous in using their sexuality to advance the cause of Israel. Tamar plays a prostitute in order to get pregnant and keep the family line alive. Rahab was a Canaanite prostitute who acted as a spy for Israel and betrayed her blood family for the greater good of God’s chosen. Ruth was also an outsider who seduced her way into the house of Israel. And what do you recall about Bathsheba?

King David seduced her – killing her husband in the bargain – only to give birth to Solomon whom Bathsheba insisted become king over the rights of David’s other children. Do you see a pattern here? These women – like Mary – were open to God’s will in totally outrageous ways. They used their sexuality to advance God’s cause even when it placed them in great danger for they were all partners with the Holy Spirit.

Theologians like the late Raymond Brown have noted that these women – along with Mary – show us how God “moves in and through the obstacles of human scandal to bring about the coming of the Messiah.” God’s will advances in history through some of the wildest ways – and these women – all heirs of our sister Mary – prove it. As much of the rest of the gospel of Matthew makes clear:

A stream of characters, from the hemorrhaging woman and crowds of other sick and disabled people to the Canaanite woman agitating for her little daughter’s health, the demoniac of the hills to the tax collector Matthew and his socially repugnant friends will all amply the message first embodied in the genealogy of these foremothers and the mother of the Messiah. Insignificant, illegitimate, defenseless, tabooed people are beloved of God and may become agents of divine action in history. Jesus himself is the most radical example of this divine compassion. (p. 226)

There are perhaps eight more stories about Mary that could be helpful to us – from the scandal of her marriage and pregnancy, her flight with Joseph into Egypt as illegal immigrants, the visitation of the Magi and their gifts, the wisdom of the Magnificat (which we’ll look at next week) to Mary’s calling for new wine at the wedding in Cana and her tender suffering at the foot of the Cross and beyond – but let me wrap this up with another often neglected story: losing and finding Jesus again at the Temple.

• You know this, right? Can we say parts of it out loud…?

• As a family, Mary and Joseph take the 12 year old Jesus into the city of Jerusalem to participate in the Passover celebrations marking Israel’s liberation from slavery in Egypt. And on the way home… they discover Jesus is missing, right?

Have you ever lost one of your children in a store or had them go missing? It is one of the worst feeling ever – terror and uncertainty mixed with grief and almost total confusion – and the gospel of Luke tells us that this is exactly what Mary and Joseph felt: overwhelming and paralyzing anxiety. Grief, too, don’t you think?

• And when they find him back in the Temple – three days later (can you imagine?!?) – he is speaking and teaching with the elders.

• So they explode at him – I’ve been there, haven’t you – when your relief comes pouring out and sounds like anger? And once again, as only an adolescent can say, Jesus tells them, “Oh stop… I have just been in my father’s house.”

I have to believe that Mary wanted to deck him right then and there: what a little smartass! Now the scripture tells us that Mary and Joseph “did not understand” the reproach of Jesus. He was maturing and starting to go into his own unique ministry and… they didn’t understand him.

• Very human, don’t you think?

• Something that happens all the time between parents and their children – confusion and misunderstanding?

This tells me two closing truths about Mary that are often invisible but valuable to us as we reclaim her:

• First, she and Joseph shared a love – a human and intimate love – a love that knew joy and heartbreak, anxiety and anger and reconciliation. Mary was real – and invites us to be fully human in our loving, too.

• And second, the love she and Joseph shared helped model the love that Jesus expressed. The old saying: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree comes to mind.

There are some good, bad and ugly reasons why we haven’t learned from Mary – and there is a whole lot more to say about this, too – but the fact remains: she can be for us a model of grace and hope in her humanity. She can also show us something of that spirituality of imperfection that learns and matures by getting it wrong, too. And that has to be good news for you and me. So, let those who have ears to hear, hear.

When two or three (or even 7) are gathered...

I had the privilege of joining 6 other colleagues this morning for a conversation about being clergy, staying grounded and learning from one another. It was an answer to prayer - another way to learn and ripen in this new land - what's more the convener is someone I met about 7 years ago who helped me work on strategic planning in Tucson.

There is much to say about this emerging group - it felt very safe and authentic - and I think it holds potential for helping me grow in ministry at this stage in my life. Like all "guilds," ordained clergy have unique needs and concerns so it was good to sit and listen and share with those who journey on a similar path. There was also the acknowledgement that as the role of ministry and church shifts in the 21st century, clergy and laity are still trying to sort out what this might mean - and that creates new areas of stress and confusion. Like another colleague (not a part of this group) recently observed there is a whole realm of Christian writing and publishing that bears NO resemblance to our historic tradition. (What many don't grasp - and struggle with - is that OUR tradition has now become the minority and that OTHER Christianity is now normative - but that's for another time.)

This feels like a good step - and I am grateful for the connection with others gathered in Christ's name.

Ripening with Advent this year...

Yesterday, as the snows came to this little section of the valley, I sat sipping hot chocolate and talking with my spiritual friend/advisor about Advent. He said that over the years he's given up on the Advent lectionary - all this talk about waiting, waiting, waiting - so this year's he's preaching a series about how God's holy family both challenges and strengthens our earthly families.

Part of me gets his willingness to move beyond the confines of the lectionary from time to time; after all, this year I'm playing with ideas of Mary for Protestants this year in ways that are not a part of the standard readings (although I have discovered them a jumping off point.) But another part thinks: "I'll NEVER learn enough about waiting and patience to toss these readings away." I want to believe I've matured and ripened in this Advent waiting business - and maybe I have a little - but mostly I'm not so sure. Gertrud Mueller-Nelson writes:

Men have a rather more difficult time "being pregnant" than women. But they aren't exempt. The dark feminine ferment of the season affects them, too, and they can find it difficult to be at ease with so much feminine feeling in the air. Their discomfort might show up in moods and withdrawal or feeling as they are being pressured into production. Patience helps. Relationships become rich and rewarding if a man will risk describing his feelings and talking them out. In that way he honors his forgotten feminine side and his inner feminine will deal kindly with him and not bring him into a mood.... Remember, religion is not an intellectual concept: it is a deeply felt and utterly human experience.

I have to learn how to wait - so I practice putting up lights and decorating the tree and even baking bread (which besides music is my all-time favorite spiritual discipline!) and I find myself yearning for the words of the scriptures:

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for God has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. The Lord has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, as God spoke through the mouth of the holy prophets from of old, that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. Thus God has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered the holy covenant, the oath that sworn to our ancestor Abraham and Sarah, to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness before the Lord all our days. And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare God's ways, to give knowledge of salvation to the people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

It is rather like my favorite songs of this season: "Comfort, comfort o my people," "O come, o come Emmanuel" and especially "In the bleak midwinter." Sarah McLachlan captures this spirit nicely in her "Wintersong."

They give me permission to be incomplete... in formation... still searching and sometimes orphan like, too. In addition to this being the second Sunday of Advent it is also St. Nicholas day - one of my all time favorites - of which Mueller-Nelson writes: "Our Santa Claus is a valuable mythic image, but he is often distorted into a father image without dignity or authority or mystery."

She then explores the pathetic, patronizing figure Santa has become - a vulgar father figure who teaches us to beg for what we want - rather than the generous and healing male who shows us the value of being a gift-bearer: "He never expected a return for his good deeds. That very selfless giving is a big part of our being parents. We know, in the urgency of doing what is right for our children, that our ego does not often get the credit... and so Nicholas teaches us how to give so "that the right hand does not know what the left hand is doing."

And so the search and wandering in the wilderness of Advent continues.

The ordinary blessing of being corrected...

Yesterday, while searching for a Dunkin' Donuts before cutting down our Christmas tree, I was talking with my wife about this Sunday's message. It is a reflection - especially for Protestants - on some of the insights of Mary. For some time I have been "pondering her wisdom and mysteries in my heart" and felt like lifting her up in worship would bring us balance - especially given the Reformed tradition's over emphasis on John the Baptist individuality - so all of my Advent reflections will be grounded in Mary.

At any rate, as I was sharing my three ideas with her - that John is harsh while Mary is patient, that John responds to God's call by fleeing into the desert to be alone while Mary embraces community, and that John's words to people are black and white demands for radical change while Mary asks Jesus to bring more wine to the feast - she said, "I can accept and appreciate that you are looking for a more Marian spirituality in your life but does it have to be either/or? Are you saying that there is no room for John and his radical challenge?" She then went on to talk about those in the congregation who ARE more like John - and how important they are, too.

Hmmmmm.... busted!

As soon as she started to reply I sensed deep in my gut that I had missed my own point. For in searching for balance I, too, was acting more like John than Mary by setting up the discussion in exclusive ways.

And that's what I mean about the ordinary blessing of being corrected: we can't see our own shadows. In fact, we need the wisdom and insights of others to help us name and deal with them. And only when they are named - and owned - can we consciously incorporate them into our lives.

It reminded me of the way an old urban pastor friend used to write his sermons: he would study the scriptures together on Monday with five diverse lay people in his congregation - mostly working class and/or unemployed folk - and then write a draft sermon for them to discuss together on Thursday evening. They would gathering in some one's home, have a little food and beer and then listen to the sermon and offer their critiques: where did it ring true? where was it bullshit? what was still unclear? why did it even matter?

There is an ordinary blessing in being corrected by another in love that helps make the grace of God flesh. A poem about Mary by Mary Karr hints at this like this:

As the boy's bones lengthened,

and his head and heart enlarged,

his mother one day failed

to see herself in him.

He was a man then, radiating

the innate loneliness of men.

His expression was ever after

beyond her. When near sleep

his features eased towards childhood,

it was brief.

She could only squeeze

his broad shoulder. What could

she teach him

of loss, who now inflicted it

by entering the kingdom

of his own will?

It is starting to snow now: I'm off soon to meet with my spiritual advisor/friend for our every two week discussion of how things are going? I am glad that I was busted. Later I need to practice a Luka Bloom song we're doing for worship - another take on Mary - that is so gentle it makes me weep.

Christmas trees...

About a month ago, I went back to spend a week with my dad as he recovered from a recent fall. One of the fascinating discoveries I made while visiting with him involves the countless old photo scrapbooks my mother made sometime before she died. In addition to the photo albums my sisters made to celebrate my parents' 35 and 50th wedding anniversaries, there are also a ton of scrapbooks with pictures going back to when I was born.

And one of the truly bizarre truths in all of those old pictures are the totally horrible Christmas trees! OMG! Some look like the fire-breathing creature from the movie, "The Fisher King." Some look like a junkyard on steroids. And some literally defy gravity (and please don't even mention aesthetics.) Now, I can actually remember going with my father to purchase many of these horrific Christmas trees, but I can't tell you what deal he cut with the various proprietors. But if these pictures are any indication, either he was doing somebody a big favor to take these trees off their property or else they told him, "Give me $2.00 and you can have it!" (When I visit next, I am going to gather - and post - these winners!)

Today, Dianne and I went Christmas tree hunting - and found a lovely blue spruce that is both symmetrical and spacious. I still love decorating Christmas trees even though I was scarred by my early childhood experiences. Over the years we have had "Zen Christmas trees" that were more about the space between the branches and the possibilities than the decorations. When the girls were younger, we also had very traditional and beautiful Christmas trees mostly to keep peace in the household when all hell was breaking loose around us. In Arizona there was no place to go and cut your own tree, so we became friends with the various merchant folk from Michigan who trekked to Tucson every year and took up residence outside our favorite supermarkets.

And now we look for simplicity and beauty in the trees we select: this year's tree is strong enough to hold some of the very heavy ornaments we have gathered from around the world. (That is another of our favorite past times: visiting Christmas shops in foreign lands.) It is also small enough to fit into our more modest New England home (in Arizona we had cathedral ceilings and could go crazy.) Putting up our tree always brings me a sense of joy and deep peace... and calls up my favorite clip from the old "Charlie Brown Christmas" (which I can remember watching when it was first shown, too.)

The spirituality of decorating - not just trees, but the whole house hold - reminds me that I am very grounded in the way of Mary rather than John the Baptist during Advent. God knows we need those prophetic and bold voices who rattle us from our comfort and challenge the status quo. I once thought that was me but now I am much more grounded in the way of Mary - who ponders things in my heart - and is more concerned with hospitality than bold acts of prophecy. Be gentle with yourselves as this season unfolds... and maybe dance a little, too.

Another day of grace...

Today was another one of those days in the pastoral ministry that is full to overflowing with ordinary things that also point towards grace:

+ Holy Communion first thing in the morning with an old, old woman who has lived through more heart break and wounds than I can ever imagine, but who is also so loving and tender to everyone she meets that it almost breaks my heart. She adores breaking bread and sharing the cup with me - saying the Lord's Prayer, too - and it is a treasure to enter her humble home because I find that I am strengthened by her quiet and time-tested faith in ways that defy explanation.

+ Then it was off to making Memorial Service plans with another quiet saint whose beloved of 57 years died the day after Thanksgiving. Her daughter reminded me that "mom" has also lost a brother and sister to death in the past six months, too, and yet she is pulling everyone together in this hard time. What a privilege it is to share her humor and her tears. Being with her in this makes me realize that I am looking forward to celebrating the life of her faithful and creative husband next week as the scattered family returns to the old Massachusetts homestead one more time. (Our conversation also made me think of this brilliant moment in "Shadowlands" in which Anthony Hopkins' C.S. Lewis evokes what it feels like to know the depth of such a loss so profoundly.)

+ As the day passed there were administrative duties about stewardship drives and bulletins, mailings and the daily grind of keeping the church moving forward to address. Laughter and weird stories with volunteers and staff, too. There were even a few random visits from people stopping in mostly for a word of encouragement.

+ The afternoon progressed into an insightful conversation with the moderator of the congregation - a woman of depth and conviction who always inspires me with her sensitive presence even when life itself is hard - and I find I look forward to our talks greatly. Then I was off to carpooling and doctor's appointments (my car had a flat tire today) and finally a meeting with a young couple seeking baptism for their new son. Emails and returned phone calls and finally dinner with my lover (who went to bed at 8 pm because she is bone tired) brought the day to a close with a sense of gratitude.

Now these little things - very ordinary - are increasingly filled with hints that point me towards God's grace. They are, in fact, what has kept me committed to this peculiar type of ministry over all the ups and downs. You see, more often than not, nothing BIG happens: someone holds my hand, I share an idea or prayer, maybe a laugh or a tear, and a few good hearted people walk with me to visit someone who is lonely but nobody else knows.

In many ways it is more a ministry of presence than accomplishments. And yet what I have found over almost 30 years is that it is in these little moments that I am nourished by God. It is rarely a feast - almost never a sacred smorgasbord - but more like a simple tea that cumulatively fills me to overflowing. What a blessing. (This Joni Mitchell has always spoken to me of ministry when it is real... and I still love it after all these years.)