Friday, December 20, 2024

Haunted by Color, Soothed by Stitching

I turned in my last seminary paper on Saturday, and I turned in my last batch of grades a few days before that.  But yesterday, Thursday, was my first truly unscheduled day of this winter break.  On Sunday, I spent a good chunk of the day attending to my preaching job, on Monday I went to Columbia, on Tuesday I came home, and on Wednesday, I had a holiday lunch with the local church quilt group and an evening Zoom session.  At one point, my spouse said, "Did the Little Engine Who Could have a name?  Because you remind me of an Energizer Bunny in the way that you keep going."

It's a mix of metaphors, but I understand what he was saying.  Even when I'm on break, I'm not really on break.  I still have my part-time preaching job, and there are upcoming classes that start on January 7, onground classes where I need to create syllabi still.  And even though I know that I'm done with the fall semester responsibilities, both as teacher and student, I still wake up in the middle of the night feeling fretful.



I still did a bit of chugging along; I wanted to get to Michael's to get new sketchbooks while they were on sale.  So after rounding up the last of the recycling before the arrival of the trash collectors, I headed out to run some errands.  We did a bit of cooking, and then settled in to watch some plays by way of the National Theatre at Home.  I had to subscribe for a class, and we've been enjoying watching good theatre.  Yesterday we watched two plays.



I still felt fidgety, so I pulled out my basket of fabric.  I've been creating a quilt out of scraps of fabric--you may say, "Yes, that's the very nature of quilting, correct?  Scraps of fabric?"  But I began this project by thinking I would put the scraps together in a less organized way.  I thought I could pay no attention to size or color of each scrap and just put them together as I pulled them out of the basket.  Here's what I have so far:



Clearly, I'm not putting this quilt together in the random way I first envisioned.  But I'm having fun assembling my scraps into longer strips.  Here's the one I worked on last night:


And then I did a few quick sketches for notecards that I'm always creating.  You can see one nestled in the cloth:



Today I'll do a bit more writing than yesterday, a bit more shopping than yesterday (4 x the fuel points at Ingles!).  But I plan to keep doing some sewing each day.  It reminds me of this quote that I saw on the wall of the museum on Tuesday:




Thursday, December 19, 2024

Part of a Prayer for Monastic Vocation

This week, I was part of a Zoom session, where, for closing prayer, the woman used part of the Mepkin Abbey Prayer for Monastic Vocation.  She reminded us that we could have an expansive view of that vocation.

I have been thinking about an expansive view of a monastery, something beyond the physical building.  Can our lives be a monastery?  I've written some poems about the heart as a monastery, although I can't find them right now.

I did find the Prayer for Monastic Vocation.  Long ago at Mepkin Abbey, the Abbot passed out postcards.  On one side was the prayer; on the other side, a picture of all the monks.  I put the postcard in the pocket of the winter lightweight coat that I rarely used in South Florida, and I was always delighted when found it in subsequent seasons.

It's still there!  Here's the passage that we used in closing prayer:

"We come before you now asking for the grace

To be faithful to our vocation

Striving to live in the communion of Love which surpasses all other gifts."

Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, December 22, 2024:


First Reading: Micah 5:2-5a

Psalm: Luke 1:47-55 (Luke 1:46b-55 NRSV)

Psalm (Alt.): Psalm 80:1-7

Second Reading: Hebrews 10:5-10

Gospel: Luke 1:39-45 [46-55]


Finally, we have moved away from John the Baptist--although he's there, in utero, leaping at the sound of Mary's voice.

I love this Gospel vision of improbable salvation: two very different women, yet God has need of them both. I love the way this Gospel shows that even the impossible can be made possible with God: barrenness will come to fruit, youthful inexperience will be seen as a blessing.

Take some Advent time and look at the Magnificat again (verses 46-55). Reflect on how Mary's song of praise sums up most of our Scripture. If we want to know what God is up to in this world, here Mary sings it for us. He has raised up a lowly woman (who would have been a member of one of the lowliest of her society). He has fed the hungry and lifted up the oppressed. He has continued to stay with Abraham's descendants, even when they haven't always deserved it. We can count on our strong God, from generation to generation.

Take some Advent time and think about Mary's call to be greater than she could have ever expected she would be. She could have said no to God--many do. But she said yes. That acceptance didn't mean she would avoid pain and suffering. In fact, by saying yes, she likely exposed herself to more pain and suffering. But in saying yes, she also opened herself up to amazing possibilities.

Think about your own life. Where do you hear God calling your name?

How can we be like Mary? How can we be like Elizabeth, who receives an even more improbable invitation? Where would we be led, if we said yes to God?

God has a greater narrative for us than any we can dream of. Let this be the year that we say yes to God and leave our limited visions behind.

Sunday, December 15, 2024

Sermon for December 15, 2024

 December 15, 2024

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott


Luke 3:7-18


As I’ve spent the week thinking about this Gospel, I’ve been finishing papers for this semester’s seminary classes, including a class that looked at twenty-first century churches and what it means to be missional.  I’ve read about churches that do prayer walks through their neighborhoods, churches that partner with community groups, churches that are trying to be outward facing rather than inward facing.  As I’ve written a final paper that synthesizes all the texts, I’ve thought about John the Baptist and his approach to the seekers that came to him.

In seminary, we have not been trained to use the language that John does; imagine if I stood here and preached the kind of sermon that John preached.  Imagine if I called the congregation a brood of vipers—not just snakes, but the offspring of snakes.  If I used this language week after week, I imagine it wouldn’t be too long before you called Bishop Strickland.

But look at how the people in today’s Gospel respond.  I would be the one stomping away, saying “You can’t call me a baby snake.  I don’t have to listen to this.  Don’t threaten me with an ax and with fire.”  No, the people in our Gospel today ask, “What, then, should we do?”  

John the Baptist’s answer contains multitudes.  In it, we get a foreshadowing of some of the narrative story arcs that we’ll find throughout the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts—which scholars believe were written by the same person and should be read together, as two parts of the same story.  

John the Baptist is asked the same question by three very different groups of people, all of whom have been told that the time to repent is now, lest they be like non-producing trees, thrown into the fire.  Scholars have puzzled over the first group, “the crowds” who do the asking.  Some Bible commentators suggest that this part of the crowd was the rich part.  They are the ones, in this time period, who have extra coats and food.


But given the specificity of the next two groups, I think we’re meant to see the crowds as “everybody”—it’s a group that can include the very wealthy to those of more moderate means.  If we’re very rich, we have an extra coat.  But even if we’re not very rich, we likely have something we can share, like food.  Even if we don’t have extra luxury items, like a coat would have been in first century times, we can share something that will sustain life.

Tax collectors are the next group that asks John to tell them what they should do.  The language of the Gospel shows what a surprise it is to find them among the group following John the Baptist.  Like Jesus will do later, John does not turn them away, but he does have specific instructions for them:  “Collect no more than the amount proscribed to you.”  You may remember that tax collectors were paid a percentage of what they collected, which gave perverse incentives to them to collect more than what was owed. Keep in mind that the population was already taxed at 30-40%--no wonder tax collectors were so hated, often linked with sinners in the same breath—the Pharisees will ask the disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with sinners and tax collectors?   Later in the Gospel of Luke, a tax collector will get a name-- Zachaeus, chapter 19,--and we will see what can happen when one becomes serious about repentance.

The third group, the soldiers who ask the same question have a different sort of power, and they can wield that power without caring who they hurt.  There will be no Senate investigations, no suspensions.  They, too, must harness the impulse to take more than what is owed.  

Notice how these last two groups are outsider groups—tax collectors were shunned by the Jews, and Roman soldiers would be avoided.  Today’s Gospel prefigures Christ’s actions, with Zacchaeus and others, with Jesus eating with sinners and healing community by way of inclusion. It also prefigures the actions of the disciples and apostles in the book of Acts, where the first Christians were primarily Jews who learned to share, and then the group was widened to include a Gentile here, a Gentile there—starting with Cornelius in Acts 10, and then many, many more, as we see in the letters of Paul.  John’s 3 groups of questioners gives a foreshadowing of what will come.

John calls the people who come to him a brood of vipers, but he doesn’t leave them dejected.  He gives them a choice—this life or that life?  A tree that bears good fruit or a non-producing tree that faces the ax and the fire?  

Last week I mentioned that John is preaching a message of repentance, but John delivers a message far deeper far more than a need to apologize and feel bad for all the ways that we’ve gone wrong, the way that repentance has come to be preaches.  The Greek word is metanoia, which means a turning around.  It’s a reorientation, a fundamental transformation of outlook, a mental and spiritual U-turn.

A wide variety of people came to John because they knew that their current lives were not working—the crowds, the people working for the government, the military, all sorts of people came to John to find out what to do.  They came to John—a weirdo in the wilderness who called them a brood of vipers.  We hear the story today and feel a tremor of truth.

Like those people who came to John, we, too, can look around us and see that regular old life is not working for the vast majority of people.  We see fractures all around us and worry about what is coming.

John’s answer to the question of “What then should we do?” is still relevant to us here, so many centuries later.  Notice how mild it seems, at first glance:  share your excess.  Not give everything you have to the poor so that you, too will be poor, but share your excess.  In your job, act with integrity.  Don’t abuse the power that you have, but use it wisely.  Don’t act in ways that make people fearful.  Don’t issue threats.  Imagine what a different world we would have if everyone did this—how our interpersonal relationships would improve, how our communities could reknit themselves together, how our geopolitical relations would lead to a world of more flourishing.

John has good news for us this Advent season—the time is getting very late, but it is not too late.  There is time to turn around.  God has not given up on this creation the way that so many people have given up on God and everything else.  John calls on all of us to repent, to make a u-turn, to come back to the covenant with God.  It’s good news for all of us.


Friday, December 13, 2024

The Feast Day of Santa Lucia

Today is the feast day of Santa Lucia, a woman in 4th century Rome during a time of horrible persecution of Christians and much of the rest of the population, and she was martyred.  The reasons for her martyrdom vary:   Did she really gouge out her eyes because a suitor commented on their beauty? Did she die because she had promised her virginity to Christ? Was she killed because the evil emperor had ordered her to be taken to a brothel because she was giving away the family wealth? Was she killed because a rejected suitor outed her for being a Christian?  We don’t really know.  

She is most often pictured with a crown of candles on her head, and tradition says that she wore a candle crown into the catacombs when she took provisions to the Christians hiding there.  With a candle crown, she freed up a hand to carry more supplies.  I love this idea, but it wouldn't surprise me to find out that it isn't true.

Truth often doesn't matter with these popular saints like Lucia, Nicholas, and Valentine.  We love the traditions, and that means we often know more about the traditions than we do about the saints behind them, if we know anything at all about the saints behind these popular days.

This feast day still seems relevant for two reasons.  First, Lucia shows us the struggle that women face in daily existence in a patriarchal culture, the culture that most of us still must endure.  It’s worth remembering that many women in many countries today don’t have any more control over their bodies or their destinies than these long-ago virgin saints did. In this time of Advent waiting, we can remember that God chose to come to a virgin mother who lived in a culture that wasn’t much different than Santa Lucia’s culture: highly stratified, with power concentrated at the top, power in the hands of white men, which made life exceeding different for everyone who wasn't a powerful, wealthy, white man. It's a society that sounds familiar, doesn't it?

On this feast day of Santa Lucia, we can spend some time thinking about women, about repression, about what it means to control our destiny.  We can think about how to spread freedom.

It's also an important feast day because of the time of year when we celebrate.  Even though we're still in the season of late autumn, in terms of how much sunlight we get, those of us in the northern hemisphere are in the darkest time of the year.  It's great to have a festival that celebrates the comforts of this time of year:  candles and baked goods and hot beverages.

I love our various festivals to get us through the dark of winter. In these colder, darker days, I wish that the early church fathers had put Christmas further into winter, so that we can have more weeks of twinkly lights and candles to enjoy. Christmas in February makes more sense to me, even though I understand how Christmas ended up near the Winter Solstice.

I always thought that if I had a more flexible schedule, I'd spend December 13 making special breads, but that will have to wait.  My schedule is flexible, but much of today and tomorrow will be spent working on my final papers/presentations for three seminary classes.  

You could do baking though! If you’d like to try, this blog post will guide you through it. If you’re the type who needs pictures, it’s got a link to a blog post with pictures.  Enjoy.

Thursday, December 12, 2024

Fall Teaching Tasks Complete with Seminary Writing Yet to Do

 I have posted my last set of grades.  I am not done with all of the work from Fall semester, but all my grading is done:  5 Spartanburg Methodist College classes and 4 online classes for Broward College.  For the online classes, I don't have to do some of the more time consuming work:  the curriculum is created and standard for online classes, and the course shell is the same from term to term--in many ways, I am the grader and the person who answers questions and encourages and sends reminders.  Still, it takes time, and it takes up a lot of space in my head at certain points of the term, like the end. 


Tuesday I uploaded all of the components of the final project for my Preaching class: Race, Gender, and the Religious Imagination.  I had to write an academic paper, then I had to create an event that would address some of the material the paper revealed, and I had to create/preach/record a sermon that I would preach for the event, along with a sermon manuscript.  It was one of the more complicated final projects, with lots of parts.

I still have three papers to write, but they feel doable:  one is due on Friday, one on Saturday, and one on Sunday.  The end is in sight!  I want to get as much done Thursday as possible.  My spouse has been fighting off a cold, and I worry that I'll wake up sick.

I thought I would get more done yesterday, but after getting up early to get grading done and get the Rogue in for new tires, I was tired by afternoon.  I took a nap and then got up to finish the gingerbread in the late afternoon.  I started the recipe in the morning, but the dough needs time to chill.  They were wonderful fresh out of the oven, but this morning, they are a bit crisper around the edges than I'd like.

As I look at my history in gingerbread, I am realizing that this is one cookie that almost never turns out the way I want:  soft on the inside, but with some resistance (but not overly crispness) on the outside.  It's usually a delicious cookie, if I didn't have my preconceived idea of what it should feel like when I bite into it.  And yes, I do see the life lesson there.

Let me bring this blog post to a close and actually post it.  I first started writing it yesterday and got sidetracked by the day's tasks.  And then let me get to my seminary writing.  


Wednesday, December 11, 2024

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, December 15, 2024:


Zephaniah 3:14-20

Isaiah 12:2-6 (Isaiah 12:6)

Philippians 4:4-7

Luke 3:7-18


Today's Gospel shows the fiery side of John the Baptist, who calls his audience a brood of vipers and warns of celestial axes coming to cut down the trees that aren't bearing fruit. Not a very Christmasy message.

But what a contrast to the message of excessive consumerism bleating at us from every portal of communication this time of year. I find it refreshing, this apocalyptic thread of Scripture running parallel to the beat of capitalism.

Go back to that agricultural metaphor of John's: "Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire" (Luke 3: 9). The New Year approaches, and many people are thinking about how they've failed in their plans for this year, and how they might get on track for next year. Instead of focusing on appearance and weight loss, as so many people do, we might turn some attention to our spiritual lives. If God was a gardener, and we were trees in the orchard, what would God do?

Would we be chopped down, thrown into the fire?

John's message is not this one of despair. He doesn't say, "There's nothing you can do. The messiah is coming, and all is lost."

No, John tells us to repent. It's not too late. The word repent is often associated with seeking forgiveness of sins, but that's a very narrow definition. The larger meaning of that word is to turn. Turn away from what isn't working in our lives. Turn towards God and all the ways our lives could be better.

How are you bearing fruit? One reason God came to be with us, one reason God took on human form--to show us how to live. If living like Jesus is your goal, what kinds of practices can get you there?

What personality traits bear fruit? What needs to be chopped away? What spiritual practices should you think about incorporating in the coming year, to support your plans to be more Christ-like? More prayer? One day of fasting a week? Less spending on yourself? More sharing? More patience? More volunteer time? Cutting back on debt, so that you don't have to work such ridiculous hours? Living more simply, so that you have more to share with others?

I know, you're thinking that you don't have time for this kind of contemplation right now. You're very, very busy: Christmas gatherings to attend, shopping to do, cooking to complete, getting packed for your holiday journeys.

We live in a culture that likes to keep us busy. We are all too busy to heed John's message: "Repent." Turn around. Do it now, before it is too late.

What would our culture look like if we took Jesus as our model of behavior? If we trusted God more? If, instead of listening to the blare of TV and the Internet and the many forms of media, what would happen if we listened for God? What would happen if we structured our lives according to the plan that Jesus reveals? What would happen if we decided that Jesus meant what he said, and we structured our lives accordingly?

As you think about the implications of the answers to those questions, you see why our culture rushes in to fill the voids that most of us don't even perceive in our individual lives and larger communities. For if we lived our lives and made our decisions based on the Kingdom that Jesus reveals, it would be a very different world indeed. John gives us a hint later in the Gospel for today: if you have two coats, share with the person who has none, and likewise with food; don't cheat people; be content with your wages.

Repent. Turn away from the life of bloat and greed that our culture of consumption offers us. Turn towards a vision of Kingdom living. Don't wait until you're dead. Do what you can to create the Kingdom here and now.