Mary and Joseph

I've been just sitting here for about an hour, eating some oatmeal, drinking some coffee, reading emails and Facebook posts, and thinking about the meaning of this upcoming night, of the gifts of time with family as well as the gifts that are to be given and received.  I get to look out windows at the birds at the feeders, filling their bellies with seeds, finding room at the feeder to share their space with one another, taking turns knocking seed to the ground for the ground feeding birds and other critters to gobble up.  The house is decorated with Nativity scenes, Santas and Angels, all ready to bring the Good News of Jesus’ birth.  It’s been quiet as I contemplate these things.  Something I've needed, time to just “be” in this season of seasons.

We haven’t gotten a Christmas letter written for a couple of years.  We’ll be waiting until sometime in Epiphany to get this year’s done.  Sometimes it is just better to wait on that project, to get the other things done and to really take time to evaluate all the gifts and joys of the previous months, and mention goals and dreams for the future.  We have many things to think about; many experiences lived, dreams being fulfilled just as new ones are being formed.  We are learning to live in the ‘now’ and to be thankful, even in our busy-ness, for moments of reflection, of time spent together simply laughing over some silly thing. 

When Joseph and Mary left Galilee for Bethlehem they were on a mission to register themselves with the government.  Unknown obstacles would meet them, the road would not be easy, and travel would be arduous and uncomfortable for the very pregnant Mary.  They could look forward to the birth of this child, but even that was filled with unknowns, dreams to be fulfilled, and fears and longings that surround the birth of any child, let alone the child of God.  It is easy to look at the beautiful art of Mary and Joseph with their newborn child in the stable.  We don’t often think of the mess of birth, the smell of animals, the grime embedded in the skin of the shepherds.  We think of this birth of our Savior with joy and Alleluias, grateful for the gift.  But can you imagine the fear in the hearts of Joseph and Mary?  Are those any different than our own? 

Counting the gifts under the tree, sharing the things we have with those we love, are ways in which we celebrate the One gift of this night.  No gift is without some sacrifice, some risk.  Perhaps that is why we give.  Mary and Joseph risked everything for the sake of the world.  They sacrificed so much to be the bearers of this gift.

O God of all creation, you gave us your Son, to be born and raised by a common woman and man, people with emotions and lives filled with busy-ness and responsibilities.  Thank you for Mary and for Joseph and for your trust in them to be for us the parents of our Jesus.  In our rush to be everywhere we need to be this Holy season, help us remember the roads they traveled to Bethlehem to give all they gave.  Amen.

The "Holiday Vortex" is here!

The “holiday vortex” is upon us.  Projects, parties, decorating, shopping, eating, travel, concerts, worship and more worship are filling the calendar for the next few weeks.  It’s insane, really, how we pile so much into so little time, as if this is the only opportunity to be in community with family, friends and faith communities.  Sure, invitations happen year round, but the frequency of this time of the year is head-spinning.  Trying to determine what to do, when and with whom, hoping to find a reasonable balance, not disappointing anyone when limits must be made, but mostly, not disappointing ourselves as we realize that we cannot do it all, be everything and remain healthy in body, mind and spirit, is hard!

In what ways to we take care of our ‘selves’ when we want to do it all and cannot make it all happen?  Is it okay to spend quiet time, even when the to-do list seems never ending?  Is it okay to say “no” to an invitation to be able to do our own decorating, letter and card writing, shopping and wrapping?  Of course it is.  Now, to make it all happen.

I hear of so many different ideas regarding decorating for Christmas.  The most recent one that captured my attention is the couple who put up their trees and string them with lights on the weekend of the Third Sunday in Advent (that was this weekend), but do not put the decorations on the tree until the Fourth Sunday in Advent.  In this tradition I see a couple things.  One is the bringing of light into our homes on the longest week of darkness in the year.  Another is that preparation can happen in steps, just like the daily changes on an Advent calendar.  The opportunity to bring greens into the home is the welcome of fresh life, a preparation for the new life we will experience again in our celebration of the birth of Jesus.  We transition from darkness to light, from the end of a Christian liturgical year into the advent of the new year, as well as the transition from one calendar year to the next.  In our “bleak midwinter” (admitting that ‘winter’ really doesn't begin until the solstice on the 21^st) we decorate with color and light, pushing the darkness out in stages. 

Decorating in stages just may make it easier to insert into the busy-ness of the season.  Taking a little time in fits and starts may mean the boxes of decorations are out and in the way for a little longer than I may like, but taking time to enjoy the process, remembering, dreaming, praying, can be an ongoing experience if I allow myself this kind of time. 

Dear God, you give us twenty four hours each day to fill with so many things.  In this particular time of the year, those things sometimes feel more like burdens than joys.  Help us to find a good balance that offers good attitudes and moments of joyful memory-making rather than a rush to get yet one more thing done.  Mostly, help us find respite each day to renew our relationship with you and with those closest to us.  Those relationships are the ones that deserve the best we have to offer.  Amen.

Preparing

The lights were dim as she entered the sanctuary, carrying a bucket of warm water and a rag.  These few moments alone at the altar were hers to quietly and reverently be both Mary and Martha at once.  Kneeling on the cold tile, she dipped her hands into the water and rung out the rag.  Wiping the floor, cleaning away the footprints of activity, the dust of being, the salty drops of tears and perspiration, she thought “Will you let me be your servant?” 

Images rushed in of altars from bygone days.  Who cleaned the floor after the sacrifice?  Was the stone blood-soaked?  Even now, the question remains, what can I sacrifice for you, God?  What am I willing to give?  And through my sacrifice, what will I receive?  Looking up, the answer:  the empty cross hangs above the altar.  A constant reminder of what is to come, it hangs, empty, waiting as we wait for the birth of the One. 

The water cools as the tile is transformed.  Scuff marks and wax drips and splatters where consecrated wine splashed are removed.  The baby is coming.   Let us make ready this birthing place. 

In a posture of penitence and prayer these moments of washing provide the cadence to listen and the rhythm to pay attention.  Breathing in and out prayers of confession and prayers of petition: a private moment for reflection.  Focusing on the task at hand, albeit methodical, the washer is a washed in the holy of the space, of the moment, of the time with God.

Come, o come Emmanuel.