Meditation on This Sunday's Narrative Lectionary

The readings for Sunday, December 16, 2012:


Isaiah 61:1-11

optional text: Luke 4:16-21

Today we read the chapter of Isaiah that we'll find echoed throughout the story of Jesus and his ministry. In the optional reading for today, this passage appears as the text that Jesus reads as an adult when he first preaches. He says that the prophecy has been fulfilled.  We also hear echoes of the text in the Magnificat that Mary sings when she and Elizabeth visit each other during their pregnancies.

Unfortunately, the next two thousand years of history show that there's still plenty of work for the people of God to do. The redemption of the world has indeed begun, but in many ways, it's not complete. And much theology tells us that God needs our help.

This chapter of Isaiah tells us what the people of God should be doing. If God had a business plan, we could find it here. If God had a mission statement, we could use one of these verses.

The verbs should not be a surprise to the faithful: bring, proclaim, grant, give. The populations that concern God should be familiar too: the afflicted, the captives, the mourners.

Here, in this chapter, in such inspiring language, once again we hear God's promise: repair of the ruins, new life out of devastation, recompense for wrongs done, and the kind of joys we associate with weddings.

This chapter of Isaiah provides such chapter and hope.  For so many people, 2012 has been a difficult year.  For so many people, every year is a difficult year.  Isaiah tells us that to be human is to suffer.  But Isaiah also gives us the promise that God is at work in the world.  Isaiah reminds us that even when we can't see God moving amongst us, God is there, binding wounds, knitting brokenness back into new life, and planting seeds in the ruins.

The Feast Day of Santa Lucia

Today is the day that Scandinavian countries celebrate Santa Lucia day, or St. Lucy's day. There will be special breads and hot coffee and perhaps a candle wreath for the head.

I first heard about Santa Lucia Day at our Lutheran church in Charlottesville, Virginia. It was held on a Sunday evening in Advent back in the late 70's.

As the tallest blonde girl, I was selected to lead the Santa Lucia day procession when I was in my early teen years. The grown ups placed a wreath with candles on my head and lit the candles. The younger children carried their candles. I walked up the church aisle and held my head very still. I still remember the exhilarating feeling of having burning candles near my hair. I remember hot wax dripping onto my shoulders--I was wearing clothes and a white robe over them, so it didn't hurt.

It felt both pagan and sacred, that darkened church, our glowing candles. I remember nothing about the service that followed.

A year or two later, Bon Appetit ran a cover story on holiday breads, and Santa Lucia bread was the first one that I tried. What a treat. For years, I told myself that baking holiday breads was a healthy alternative to baking Christmas cookies--but then I took a long, hard look at the butterfat content of each, and decided that I was likely wrong.

If you'd like to try your hand at baking bread today, see this post on my creativity blog.  It will have links to get you to a photo essay too. 

And this bread is wonderful at any time of the year.  So even if you don't have time to bake today, you can prepare for a special Christmas morning treat. Or midsummer treat for that matter.

I love our various festivals to get us through the dark of winter. When I lived in colder, darker places, I wished that the early church fathers had put Christmas further into winter, when I needed a break. Christmas in February makes more sense to me, even though I understand how Christmas ended up near the Winter Solstice.

So, happy Santa Lucia day! Have some special bread, drink a bracing hot beverage, and light the candles against the darkness.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, December 16, 2012:


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.

The Christmas Pageant and Worship

In churches across the nation, it's Christmas pageant season.  In some churches, the pageant is a separate event; in some, it's part of the worship service.  I've even been at churches where the Christmas pageant is presented in the place of a worship service.  I have some problems with that last one, but to mention them in any context feels grinchy, so I'll go in a different direction.

Bookgirl has written a great post on her recent experience.  She worked in interesting ways to get the congregation involved, so that the pageant was more worship, less an audience watching a play.  She concludes, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'Messy Church' or 'Interactive Prayer Stations,' and I will still do that on the 23rd during the church school hour, but this ended up being an intergenerational worship service without even meaning to be."

This comment made me wonder what our Christmas pageants would look like if we designed them to get the whole congregation involved.  Would we enter the story more thoroughly?  Would we discover aspects we had forgotten or never known?

Our church has a pageant-like event as one of the Christmas Eve services, and my pastor is planning ways to involve the congregation more.  It may end up being less like a pageant and more like improv.  I think that would be a very good thing.

I have memories both fond and painful of childhood Christmas pageants.  I wrote a poem about it, which I'll post below, which first appeared in The South Carolina Review, and I included it in my first chapbook, Whistling Past the Graveyard.  I wonder if my experiences still resonate with 21st century readers/pageant participants.  In some churches, I suspect they do.

I predict, however, that as we move towards the future, we will no longer recognize these Christmas pageants of my youth, where Mary had to be dark and the angels fair, where difficult children wear the animal costumes.

I had a glimpse of this future on Sunday.  We did a short play, where we had a male angel Gabriel, a female narrator, and a male Mary.  How curious to hear the angel say "Behold you will conceive in your womb and bear a son."  I thought, really?  A womb in our male Mary?

The last line of our play has the angel reminding us that anything is possible with God.  We're so used to the Advent stories that we forget how impossible Gabriel's vision would have seemed to Mary.  Maybe I'll play with that idea in a future poem.

But here's my Christmas pageant poem which looks back to the Christmas pageants of my youth:


Medieval Christmas Pageants




The Sunday School pageant director embraced
the medieval ideals. Mary would have dark
hair and a pure soul. Joseph, a mousy
man who knew how to fade into the background.
Every angel must be haloed with golden
hair, and I, the greatest girl, the head
angel, standing shoulders above the others.

It could have been worse. Ugly and unruly
children had to slide into the heads and tails
of other creatures, subdued by the weight
of their costumes, while I got to lead
the processional. But I, unworldly foolish,
longed to be Mary. I cursed
my blond hair, my Slavic looks which damned
me to the realm of the angels.

I didn’t see Mary’s role for what it was: bit
player, vessel for the holy, keeper of the cosmic.
I didn’t understand the power of my position.
I could have led an angel uprising, although the history
of angel uprisings suggests that though whole new
worlds emerge, so do new tortures with the triumph.
I could have imparted messages of God’s plan,
spoiled all the surprises. I could just appear,
scaring mere mortals into submission.

Instead, I smoldered, smarting
at the indignities of mother-made wings
and long robes to ruin my long legged run.
I internalized the message of the culture
which didn’t offer starring roles for girls,
no head angel power for us.
Instead, the slender, the meek, the submissive
girl got the prize, the spotlight focused
on her kneeling knees, her bowed head.
I tried not to sing too loudly, to shrink
my Teutonic bones into the Mary model.

Advent Art Report: Advent 2

My spouse was playing special music for the 11 a.m. service, so I didn't attend the whole 10 a.m. service like I usually do.  Happily, I was able to do the art project at the Worship Together (10 a.m. more family-oriented service).

We divided into small groups, the way we do each week.  We did the Faith Five:  talk about our highs and lows, read the Bible passage for the day, talk about how the Bible passage relates to our modern lives, pray, and bless each other.  And then it was on to our art project!

Our Bible passage was Luke 1:  25-38, the visit of Gabriel to Mary.  We talked about what it means to be favored by God.  We stressed that it was not that Mary was the favorite, but that God had showered blessings upon her, the way that God would like to shower all of us.  We talked about finding favor with God in terms of having blessings in our life.  The art project helped us realize how many blessings we have.

We had a large piece of paper, colored glass marbles, and a glass vase that was about 6 inches high with a 2 inch circumference.  We were to write a blessing on the paper and drop a marble in the glass vase.

At first I thought, we'll run out of marbles.  And then we started going round the group, listing blessings and dropping marbles.  The early process was easy:  what to choose to mention?

We talked about the standards:  food, shelter, family, friends, safety, opportunities.  Zip, zip, zip, round the group we went.

But as the process continued, we had to stretch a bit.  If you could see our piece of paper, you might see some of our offerings as strange.  The Internet, for example, was not the first thing that came to mind, but if you think about life without the Internet, you may or may not agree that the Internet has been a blessing.

One of our high school group members put the moon on our sheet of paper.  At first you might think, the moon?  Really?  If it's been awhile since you learned of the importance of the moon to our planet, you might want to go back to review.  Many of us think of the moon as a big hunk of rock that glows in the night sky, but it does so much more than that--like controlling the tides, for example.

As we stretched to come up with new blessings, we realized how truly blessed we are.  The dropping of the marbles provided the perfect pacing device.  If we hadn't been dropping marbles and writing and waiting for our group members to finish writing, we might have not taken the time to really consider the scope of our blessings. 

If we had just talked the list, we might not have gone deeper.  If we hadn't had the colored glass marbles, we might not have felt so eager to have our turn to list a blessing.  And if we had only talked through our list, we wouldn't have had the dramatic evidence, the tube of pretty glass chunks to remind us that even on our worst weeks, we've got a lot of blessings.

This is a project that could be adapted for many settings:  Sunday school, devotional group, congregational arts group, VBS, confirmation.  Even as an individual meditation, it would be an interesting variation on the gratitude journal.  It's a great project in that it's cheap and so easy that anyone can do it.  You don't need artistic talent--no one will be left out.  I'd love to think about it on a much larger scale, an outdoor art installation or a table-top piece.  But that's something for a different day.  

"We Have Come This Far, Always Believing,"

We have friends whose house backs up to a shopping center that has a Jewish day care center.  It's actually more than that, as they are often meeting late into the night.  They may be a splinter group--it's hard for me to tell.  Their bus seems to say that they worship a Messiah who has already come, but isn't Jesus Christ.  In some ways, it's not important.  What intrigues me is that my friends have this Jewish whole life center to their back and Orthodox Jewish neighbors across the street. 

When we moved to South Florida, I expected to be enriched by Caribbean and Latin American cultures.  In my ignorance, I wasn't aware of the huge Jewish population living here, which has been an ecumenical enrichment too.

Last night we sat outside on the back patio enjoying our friends' new outdoor fireplace structure.  Suddenly, a pop of fireworks!  We looked at each other with quizzical looks.  I said, "It's the first night of Hanukkah!"

Indeed it was.  Until recently, I didn't know as much about this holiday.  I'm much more familiar with Passover, for example.  But I've grown to love the story of the Maccabees, the resistance to the secular king, the cleansing of the temple, the oil that burns long after it should have run out.

I spent this morning listening to this episode of On Being's exploration of Rabbi Heschel.  It's not exactly rooted in Hanukkah, but it does talk about our responsibility to work for social justice.  I love the idea of a God who needs us to make the world better.  I love the idea of a God who can't do it alone.

Some people might protest this idea of a God who is not all powerful.  If God wants a better world, surely God could create that with just a whisper.  Perhaps--but all evidence suggests that God doesn't have that approach.

That pondering led me to remember my favorite Hanukkah song, "Light One Candle," by Peter, Paul, and Mary.  You can see them perform that song as part of their 1988 holiday special here.  It moved me to tears.  It always does.

I love how the song ends:  "We have come this far, always believing, that justice will somehow prevail."  Some days/months/years, that belief is easier than others.

I love this Hanukkah poem by Rachel Barenblat.  I love her concept of restoring the temple and its implications for modern life.

Today is the second Sunday in Advent.  We'll light two candles at church this morning.

Tonight, as I light two candles on my home wreath, I'll think of my Jewish friends who will also be lighting two candles.  Maybe I'll play that Peter, Paul, and Mary CD of their 1988 concert all the way through.  It's a great offering in an ecumenical holiday tradition.

Campus Ministry: Unexpected Joy

Long ago, 30.5 years ago to be precise, I arrived on the campus of my small, liberal arts, Lutheran college.  I knew that the key to college success was to get involved in extracurricular activities, and I had all sorts of plans.  That first week, I went to so many meetings.  I knew that I wanted to be part of the Lutheran Student Movement.  At UVa, the group had met at our Lutheran church in Charlottesville (I was a teenager there), and they always seemed to be having such great fun. 

I'd have met the campus pastor even if I hadn't been a member of LSM.  Our campus pastor also taught classes, which I took.  To this day, I still remember his fabulous class in Religious Phenomenology.  To be fair, I still remember most of the classes that I took as an undergraduate.  That's one of the advantages of a small school, and it's part of my own wiring too.

All those years ago, I had no idea that as a woman at midlife, I'd still be in touch with our campus pastor.  He went on to be a pastor at my grandmother's church, and I'm so happy that she was still mentally sharp when he came to her church.  I always envied her having such a good pastor at her local church, and I was always happy that he was there for her in similar ways that he'd been there for me as a college student.

He's since gone on to retire, and now he travels doing work for some Lutheran camps in the southeast.  His travels took him to South Florida this week, and Thursday he came to our house for dinner.

Years ago, it would have been hard for me to imagine us this many years later dining together.  Years ago, I assumed we'd have been dead by way of nuclear war by now.

But no, here we were, talking about church and national issues.  Our campus pastor has been travelling in ELCA Synods which have been torn apart by the church's sexuality decisions.  I've seen those decisions as somewhat wishy-washy, but our campus pastor was able to explain their theological validity:  if we say that the pastor of a church is called by that church, that community, then that church gets to make the decision about whether or not a homosexual pastor will work in that setting.  I'm simplifying, of course.

But many churches have decided to leave the larger national church, which has not been easy on anyone.  We talked about synodical structures and the structure of the national ELCA.  We talked about how much more administration there used to be.  People who say that local congregations are paying for a bloated bureaucracy are just plain wrong.

We talked about how much the church has been able to do with the support of us all.  There's the international aid aspect, of course.  But lots of U.S. residents have been helped by the church too.  We talked about the social services that the ELCA used to be able to provide:  hospitals, schools, food pantries, workforce support, summer programs, you name it.  At one point, 1 in 5 U.S. residents had been helped by the ELCA--that's a pretty wide range.  At this point, it doesn't look like we'll be able to sustain that rate of assistance, but who knows.

We talked about our weariness with national politics and people's inability to work for the common good.  We talked about how we see this even at the church level.

We also caught up on some news of former classmates.  It's good to remember how many of them are still living the faith that we saw in college. 

Our campus pastor talked about a man he'd met who had served on a candidacy committee for one of the Synods.  He talked about the indicators for people who would go on to become pastors.  The number one thing that so many seminary candidates share is experience at a Lutheran outdoor ministry (mostly church camps).  The second most common predictor is experience in campus ministry.

We talked about the church of our childhoods and teen years, and our pastor shared his concern that so many people are growing up without that experience of a childhood church.  Are we really the last generation of cradle Lutherans?

Our campus pastor and my husband seemed a bit despairing after talk of the political climate that is so unable to accomplish anything and the church issues which are so polarizing.  We talked about how we're likely seeing the past through rosy lenses.  I quipped, "Somebody has to be the church in times of exile."

But sensing their growing despair, I felt it important to say that the Holy Spirit is often working in ways we can't discern until much later.  I said, "I'm hoping that we're living in a time like 1984 or 1985, when all seems impossible, and then we're waking up and Nelson Mandela is walking out of prison.  Maybe we'll look back and say, 'Wow, it was all about to change, and we just didn't see it back in 2012.'"

Our campus pastor said, "On that note, let's light the Advent wreath."  And so we did. 

We lit the candle and read Isaiah 4:2-6, which my spouse had chosen before.  It seemed appropriate, both for our conversation and for Advent, with its talk of cleansing and a new day coming.

Yes, 30 years ago, I'd have never predicted that we'd be having Advent devotions, complete with an Advent wreath, with our campus pastor.  I might have dismissed the Advent wreath as stupid, kid stuff.  I'm glad I'm not that self-righteous adolescent anymore.  To have a meal with my campus pastor and spouse, to light the Advent candle, to pray together--it was profoundly moving. 

I can't imagine a better gift on the feast day of St. Nicholas!