Lessons from Mary

Image a depiction of ancient Bethlehem with crowds of people at the birth of Jesus.

Being God’s favored one is no easy task. For Mary it meant risking everything – her family, her relationship, her life. When she agreed to Gabriel’s proposal to bring the child of the Most High into the world, she made a choice that meant her life would be changed forever. She would never be just a girl from Nazareth again. She would not lead a quiet, ordinary life. The moment God turned God’s attention to Mary, her life ceased to be her own. Personally, I don’t think she could have known what the implications were when she agreed. No teenager could have known that she was giving up her life as she imagined it to do as God asked.

Before I continue, let me clarify a thing or two about my understanding of the “virgin birth.” I do not believe these accounts of the birth of Jesus are literal facts. I believe they are true stories, stories packed with Truth about what it means to be human in relationship to the Holy. There are no history lessons here. However, there are lessons about who we are as human beings and what living in relationship with God might mean for us. And, honestly, I don’t think it matters whether we say these stories of factual or truthful as long as we look for their deeper meaning. For example, Mary’s story isn’t just about her; it’s about all of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus, Christians.

Mary agreeing to bring Jesus into the world is a model for us. The truth is God’s favor is with all of us. It’s just that so few people embrace it fully. When we accept God’s favor, then we agree to bring Divine Love into the world. And doing this is often as risky for us as it was for Mary. No, most of us are not likely to be threatened with death, though that happens in many places in the world even now. On the other hand, seeking to bring God into the world could end a few relationships, including those with family members.

You see, following Mary’s example means giving up our own dreams for our lives and embracing God’s dreams for us. Once we say, “Let it be with me…” then our lives are no longer our own (if they ever were). Quiet, anonymity is no longer guaranteed. If we accept Gabriel’s proposal to bring Christ into the world, then we can no longer sit on the proverbial sidelines. There’s work to be done and it is likely to be highly uncomfortable.

Think of it. Mary traveled to Bethlehem when she was nine months pregnant. She walked or she rode a donkey for many, many miles. And she camped out. Now, I’ve never been pregnant, but I really can’t imagine that this would be a super comfortable adventure. Then when Mary arrived in Bethlehem, there was no inn for her. She gave birth in a stable, and that was not pretty. Mary’s circumstances indicate that bringing God into the world is not for the faint of heart. It takes strength, courage, perseverance, and commitment that can only come from trusting God.

The work of bringing Divine Love into the world is messy today, too. It could mean long days of protesting injustice. It could mean repeatedly speaking out against the Death Penalty so much that it feels like no one listens. It could mean advocating for the most vulnerable among us and making ourselves vulnerable at the same time. Whatever shape it takes in our individual lives, bringing God into the world will make us and, often enough, those around us very uncomfortable. This is guaranteed because we know that God’s ways are not our ways. The ways of Love lead us to change, and there are many who do not want the change that Love requires.

We are nearing the end of our Advent journey this year. It’s a year of struggle for sure. Following that ancient star to Bethlehem has its unique challenges in pandemic and this cannot be understated. However, if we think of Mary and the journey she made, what she risked to bring Christ into the world, maybe we can begin to see hope for us here and now. In the midst of the sorrow and the grief, there are echoes of the ancient, overcrowded city of Bethlehem. As we wait for a vaccine to be distributed, perhaps there are parallels to Mary’s long journey. Somehow, when we learn that the current Administration has the highest rate of capital punishment, the noise and smell of that stable come to mind. If Mary could bring Christ into the world under those conditions, surely we can do the same under pandemic conditions.

There is still hope, peace, joy and love to be had in the world, especially if we embrace God’s favor and strive to embody these things. Bethlehem is always closer than we think. God’s favor is always with us. We are God-bearers, hope-bringers, peace-makers, joy-sharers, and love-embodiers. We are the church and we trust that God is with us in the chaos, the messiness, the wonder, the awe, the pain, the suffering, the love, the healing… God is with us in the midst of life, even life in pandemic.

May you arrive at Bethlehem filled with the hope, peace, joy, and love of God shining in, through, and around you.

RCL: Year B Fourth Sunday of Advent December 20, 2020 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26
Romans 16:25–27
Luke 1:26–38

Photo: CC0image by Gerhard G.

The Angel Said, “Fear Not”

Most Bible stories of angel appearances have the angel’s first words be, “Fear not” or a similar proclamation. Ever wonder why? Aside from the obvious that being visited by a divine messenger would be up there on terrifying scale, why are these words consistently flowing from the mouths of angels? I jokingly (sort of) say that if an angel shows up in my life and says, “Fear not,” my response is TOO FREAKING LATE! I’ve already hyperventilated and passed out cold. This would be an appropriate response to angels. They tell the person not to be afraid and then deliver news of divine proportions.

This is particularly true of the angels in the Christmas story as we know it. There’s the infamous encounter between Gabriel and Mary. Gabriel shows up out of the proverbial nowhere and tells Mary not to be afraid. Why should she not continue quaking in her sandals? Well, she has found favor with God. If that isn’t scary news, what is? I mean we all want God to pay attention to us, but do we really want God’s full attention? Mary ended up bringing God into the world in a whole new, reality-shifting kind of way. I’m betting she was afraid from the moment Gabriel showed up in her life until maybe sometime after the Resurrection. Or maybe she was just afraid on some level all the time.

Then, of course, there is Joseph. He was likely an innocent in this. His family had probably arranged for his marriage to Mary many years before, maybe even as early as Mary’s birth. He was willing to go along. Well, at least until he heard that she was pregnant and he wasn’t the one responsible. Even then, he didn’t want Mary to be stoned to death or left destitute, so he was willing to quietly, privately divorce her. Enter the nameless angel of the Lord. (My money’s on Gabriel, but we don’t know which angel it was.) This angel appears in a dream and starts off with, “Fear not…” Even in dreams angels showing up cause heart palpitations. While Joseph’s dream self is staring at the divine visitor in awestruck disbelief, the angel continues. “Do not be afraid to take Mary for your wife.” Joseph continues to stare. Wait for it. “The child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.” Joseph shakes his head in disbelief and his fear is likely unabated.

These are just two examples of angels showing up and saying, “Fear not.” Yes, they are likely scary beings in their own right. Add in that they bring divine news, and the fear factor ticks up a few notches. Oh, and that divine news is going to shift your reality (and possibly the reality of the world) so, for the love of God, keep breathing. Aside from this, I wonder if these stories address fear first because we finite, little humans live in constant fear.

Think about it. We all live with various fears and varying degrees of fearfulness. We are afraid of not having enough or being enough. We are afraid of being too much like everyone else and of being too different from everyone else. We are afraid our country is falling apart and we are afraid to reach from something different. We are afraid that there is no God and we are afraid that there is. We are afraid that the planet is dying and we afraid to make the changes necessary to save it. We are afraid of the things that hurt us in the past and we afraid of what the future will bring. We are afraid of dying, and afraid of being fully alive. If we pay too much attention to these fears, we will be overwhelmed in short order without an angel showing up with (good) news. It’s really not a surprise that a messenger from God would start a conversation with any human saying, “Fear not.”

It’s important to note that the conversation doesn’t end there, though. Fear not because God is going to do a new thing, starting with you. Fear not because God is the opposite of fear. God is forever cracking open, breaking into, human fear. Jesus didn’t show up in some terrifyingly awesome divine spectacle. Jesus showed up in an infant (okay, so babies are terrifyingly awesome divine spectacles, but you know what I mean), a helpless, fragile human totally dependent on other human beings to care for him. Think about that. God comes into the world through angels, babies, and a myriad of other ways to soothe our self-protective fears, or at least to remind us that God is not in our fears.

“Fear not,” said the angel to Mary, to Joseph, to countless others, and to you and me. Do not be afraid to bring Love into the world because that’s the only way to save the world. Do not be afraid of new and life-changing things because God is in those very things. Imagine how your life would change if you heard those angelic words addressed to you. Imagine how the world would change right now if everyone heard those divine words addressed to them. Imagine how everything were different if everyone was unafraid to Love.

RCL – Year A – Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 22, 2019
Isaiah 7:10-16
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-25

Photo: CC0image by Gerd Altmann

A Famine in the Land

In the fall of 1989 I was a first year student at Princeton Theological Seminary. More than once during that first semester (and each subsequent semester), I wondered if I had made the right choice. I felt ill-prepared and out of place. The first time I felt as if I might make it through the three years, in spite of my doubts, was in the first day of the Old Testament class. The professor stood at the podium and recited a list of the things we might learn in his class. One of those was that Moses did not write the first five books of the Bible. That surprised me. Who thought that Moses wrote anything? Apparently, this was (and is) a popular belief. One of my classmates took offense. They stood up and emphatically declared that if this was the kind of nonsense taught at Princeton, it was not the school it proclaimed to be. And my classmate walked out of the lecture hall with me and many others staring in surprise.

I’d be less surprised now, though. After nearly 30 years in ministry, I think the Bible should come with a warning label: Enter at your own risk. Contents are not what they appear to be. Even folks who identify on the more progress end of the Christian spectrum can’t seem to shake the influence of Bible literalism. No sooner do I finish reminding people that all the books of the Bible were written when people could only explain events, both global and personal, by attributing them to God. If good things happened, then God was pleased and showering blessings. If bad things happened someone’s (or lots of someones) sins were to be blamed; God was displeased and pouring out punishment. The other option was that if a person or community was experiencing tribulation, God had decided to test the strength of their faith. This was the reality all throughout biblical history.

We live in a different world now, though, don’t we? We know that God doesn’t send floods, famines, hurricanes, mudslides, earthquakes, and the like to punish peoples for their sins or to test the faith of individuals or communities. In fact, God doesn’t send natural disasters at all. If there is blame to be placed for such occurrences, human beings are likely responsible for messing with the planet in ways that have made all these kinds of events much worse. Sometimes human behavior actually causes disasters to occur (e.g. think of the relationship between fracking and earthquakes). My point is that science can explain how these things happen; we don’t need to blame God.

If God doesn’t make bad things happen to test us or punish us, does God make good things happen to reward the faithful? No. This is absurd. This kind of thinking would mean that God loves wealthy people more than God loves poor people. Or that God loves healthy people more than God loves sick people. Most of the time wealthy people get wealthy because they have come up with something society values more than it values the health and well-being of human beings.

God does not punish the bad, test the doubtful, or reward the faithful. Can we please move on from literalism? There is Truth in scripture and, yet, not a lot of facts. Amos described how events would unfold with amazing accuracy partly because he was inspired by God and partly because human behavior patterns are predictable. When human beings choose serving the wealthy and powerful over caring for the poor and vulnerable, we move away from holy ways toward human ways. The more we forget that holy ways lead toward strong communities, care for the vulnerable, and resistance of Empire, the more we experience division, hopelessness, and oppression of the many by the very few. This “few,” by the way, makes us believe that human ways are better than holy ways while saying that their wealth and power are literally God-given.

Amos was right. There is a famine in the land. It is not a famine of bread or meat. It is, however, a famine of hearing the words of God. God’s ways always tell us to love our neighbors as ourselves. God’s ways never value one people over another and would not sanction concentration camps in any era, let alone now. God’s ways do not sanction the oppression of anyone or hold up white nationalism as a form of Christianity. God has demonstrated God’s love for Creation again and again. The prophets (old and new) tell us that loving God means loving others with the same degree of compassion, grace, forgiveness, and love that God has for us.

When Jesus dined with Mary and Martha, he didn’t tell Martha she shouldn’t do her many tasks. He merely pointed out that if you want to offer true hospitality it is essential to take time to sit with your guests and determine their needs, not just do the things because they need doing. Martha’s method forgets that there are human needs in the mix. Mary’s way reminds us that at core we are to love and serve one another in deep, meaningful ways. We cannot serve God or our neighbors if we don’t take the time to be still and listen.

God is still calling us to live holy ways, to bring the Realm of God into the here and now. When we seek holy ways, goodness and hope will follow. If goodness and hope do not follow, the way we travel is probably not all that holy. If we want to stop buying the poor with silver and selling out the needy for a pair of sandals, it’s time to trust God’s love for the whole of Creation and each human being in particular.

Moses didn’t write the Pentateuch. The Bible is not factual. God has better things to do than dole out rewards and punishments. Let’s get on with the business of ending the famine and discovering anew what it means to live in God’s holy ways (before the other kinds of things Amos spoke about come to pass once again).

RCL – Year C – Sixth Sunday after Pentecost – July 21, 2019
Amos 8:1-12 with Psalm 52 or
Genesis 18:1-10a with Psalm 15
Colossians 1:15-28
Luke 10:38-42

Photo: CC0 image by alexas_fotos

Bidding Prayer for Advent Love

With hopes that we, like Mary, may find favor with God, let us join together in praying for all who share the sacred journey to Bethlehem.
People may quietly or silently voice their prayers
God who leads through example, be with all who seek the Christ-child who waits for us. Remind us that road is long and wide enough for all who endeavor to see you. As we prepare to offer our gifts to the newborn king, open our hearts. Open our hearts to make room for the extravagance of your love for us and for the whole of creation. May the love we celebrate this day, flow through us into the world.
Restore us, O God;
Let your face shine that we might be saved.

As we move through these last Advent days, let us pray for those who are in need of shelter, sanctuary, or safety.
People may quietly or silently voice their prayers
Holy One whose light proclaims the way of love for the whole of Creation, guide us to the day when hatred, fear, and oppression have no place in our lives. Mary and Joseph found safe harbor in a stable and Christ was born into these humble surroundings. You tell us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. May our love for our neighbors be demonstrated in our actions – building homes, welcoming refugees, and protecting children who dream of a life of safety and possibilities.
Restore us, O God;
Let your face shine that we might be saved.

As we remember the joyful meeting between Mary and Elizabeth, let us pray for all who gather in worship this day, near and far.
People may quietly or silently voice their prayers
God who broke into the world to draw us closer to you, unite us in our love for you. While we rush from one holiday activity to another, pass judgement on the celebrations of others, and forget the beauty and wonder of your love, remind us. Remind us that you are more Mystery than we can possibly know. All our traditions may lead us to you, but they separate us from one another. Let us see the gifts others bring and may our hearts leap with joy in recognizing you in everyone we meet.
Restore us, O God;
Let your face shine that we might be saved.

Remembering the promises of old, promises of the One who would bring peace. Let us pray for all who work to bring peace into the world
People may quietly or silently voice their prayers
God of steadfast love, you love us even when we forget to love you, our neighbors, ourselves, or creation. We have heard your call to love and we find it so much harder than it ought to be. We justify our wars, our violent ways, our fear of change, our racism, and all the ways we perpetuate systems built on oppression. You wait for us to remember your holy ways of love and justice. As we enter Bethelem this year, shine your love into our broken fearful places, those in ourselves and our churches, and those in our country and our world. Call us once again into wholeness, peace and love. And may we have the courage to respond.
Restore us, O God;
Let your face shine that we might be saved.

Anticipating, once again, the gift of the Christ-child, let us give thanks for all the blessings we have been given.
People may quietly or silently voice their prayers
God who loves without limits or conditions, we praise you for true gift of your love for us. A Child born so long ago leads us in your holy ways. In our gratitude, may we have the courage to embody your love with joy and faithfulness so that Child may never be forgotten. Hear our prayers of gratitude and praise for all the ways in which you fill our lives with hope, peace, joy, and love.
Restore us, O God;
Let your face shine that we might be saved. Amen.

RCL Year C – Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 23, 2018
Micah 5:2-5a
Luke 1:46b-55 or Psalm 80:1-7
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45 [46-55]word

Photo: CC0 image by Gerd Altmann

Be Like Mary

Mary didn’t mean much to me as a child. Of course, there was the coveted role of Mary in the annual Christmas Pageant. Even that was a big disappointment in seventh or eighth grade when it was my turn; there was no live baby Jesus that year. Someone grabbed a doll out of the church nursery and wrapped it in a receiving blanket without noticing that one eye no longer closed and it had turned a cloudy white with age and disuse. It wasn’t exactly the moment of devotion I had been hoping for. I spent my time trying not to make faces of disgust when I was supposed to be “pondering.”

Outside of Christmas, no one ever said much about Mary and I didn’t think much of her, either. Then I took a youth ministries course during my ThM (Master of Theology), and Kenda Dean introduced me to a Mary in a paradigm-shifting sort of way. I think it was the first day of class when Kenda handed out diaper pins and told us we were all pregnant with the Holy Spirit, and it was our job to bring Christ in the world and step out of the way. In other words, to be like Mary, to bring Jesus into the world and get out of the way so that our story is Christ’s story.

Later in the semester Kenda talked more about Mary. She pointed out the obvious – Mary was a teenage, unwed mother who changed the world forever. The importance of this perspective to youth ministry cannot be understated. (You can read more about Kenda’s youth ministry approach in this book and elsewhere) It has also remained at the core of my ministry with other marginalized and overlooked folks. Someone the world dismisses as unimportant can bring Christ into the world in an extraordinary way. It happens all the time. We never know whom God has chosen in any given moment. Should we not be treating all people as theotokos, bearers of God?

More than 20 years later, I still have the diaper pin and I often think about Mary and her role in changing the world. She did something so brave and altruistic that world has literally never been the same. She was no body special. She was a girl betrothed to a carpenter. Her parents had, no doubt, arranged the best marriage they could. This engagement didn’t elevate Mary. It’s unlikely that she was different from anyone else in an observable way. Yet, through her, the impossible happened and God took on human form.

If Mary could do such a thing, there’s hope for the rest of us. Because Mary did what she did, we know that God finds favor with all of us. We know that we are God’s beloved people. This is the essence of church, is it not? If we trust this and live out this concept that God has found favor with us, then it is on us, as church, to do as Mary did, to be theotokos. We are to bring Christ into the world, and step out of the way so that our story becomes Christ’s story.

This is why we make the journey to Bethlehem every year. We travel through the wild places full of chaos and joy to kneel before a babe in a manger. We kneel to remind ourselves that we are not God, that our ways or not God’s ways. If we have made the journey, we are aware of the Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love that is embodied in the Christ-child. As church, we are called to embody these same qualities, we are to bring Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love into the world and step back to let Christ’s story continue.

It’s easier said than done, of course. Let’s not forget this call as we return to the wild places. Let’s not get distracted by those with power and the illusions they create to maintain oppression. Let’s remember Mary beyond the Christmas story. May we all make her a model for Christian living – Bring Christ into the world and step out of the way. May the story we live in the coming year be a continuation of Christ’s story.

RCL – Year B – Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 24, 2017
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Luke 1:46-55 or Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38

Photos CC-BY-NC image by Rachael Keefe
The bottom photo is of a print that hangs in my office. If anyone knows who created this beautiful image, please let me know. The print is unsigned and was hanging on the wall when I arrived.

Dry Socks and Hot Food

Have you ever been camping out in the woods without benefit of electricity, running water, and other modern conveniences? If you have, then you know that the ability to light a fire and keep it burning is important, particularly if you get caught in a storm. Getting wet wood to catch and burn is tricky business. Success makes all the difference – dry socks and hot food.

I remember one hiking trip with friends in the Green Mountains because it rained four of the six days we were out. The first two days were perfect early summer days to be out in the woods. The last four were anything but. It started raining sometime during the second night we camped. No big deal; we all had rain gear. We did decide to camp in the same place for the next night and just explore the trails around where we were. So we packed up our gear and tied up things we were leaving for the day and went off through the wet woods. We came back to camp in the late afternoon only to find a bear using the food pack we’d tied up as a piñata. We backed off and waited for the bear to go on its way. No campfire that night.

The next day we packed up and continued on our way. The rain also continued relentlessly all day, very heavy at times. But we were young and had spent quite a while planning this trip so we were going on and counting on the rain to end. The next couple of days were increasingly uncomfortable. Everything was either damp or soaked through. Any fire we’d managed was weak and smoky. By our last night, we were cold, wet, and desperate for hot food. That’s when we discovered that we had one match left between the five us. We had used them all in previous days just trying to get a fire going enough to boil water for coffee. Now there was one match and all eyes turned to me. I was the one with the most camping experience so I could start the fire with the one remaining match.

We created a lean-to out of branches and tarps to provide a little shelter and cleared a spot for the fire. Then I searched out dry tinder and kindling. I carefully arranged the little would-be fire and took out the last match. My friends were gathered around in hopeful anticipation. One of them hummed “Rise Up, O Flame” so quietly the sound of the rain almost covered it. I took a breath and struck the match and lit the tinder. Then just as carefully I added more tinder, then kindling, and then small branches, and finally it was hot enough to put on a log. We had fire. In a few hours we had coffee, hot food, and dry socks. We were all back to telling stories, singing, laughing, and looking forward to our last day of hiking even if the rains continued.

This Advent is feeling a bit like that rain-soaked hike. The general attitude of folks isn’t all that different than it was among my hiking companions on that trip. It’s been raining for days and people are tired of damp sleeping bags, cold meals, and wet socks. They want a little relief from the pouring rain. And we’ve got one match left and a whole pile of wet wood. Fire might be possible but doesn’t seem very probable given previous attempts to get it going. However, if I don’t get it burning there are going to be cold, hungry, wet folks who aren’t very happy with me.

Over the last several days that same old camp song has been filling my head like a prayer: “Rise up, oh flame. By thy lights glowing. Show to us beauty, visions and joy.” Now that I think of it, this would be a perfect Advent candle lighting song. Is this not what we are watching and waiting and preparing for in this Advent season – a strong flame of beauty, visions, and joy?

I am being guided (or pulled?) through this season by the need to coax a reluctant flame into fire. At first, that little bit of tinder that catches is fragile and a well-aimed raindrop could put it out. With careful tending, though, it can grow until, little by little, the fire gains enough strength and heat to set even the dampest logs aflame.

When Mary sang her song, flames were rising in her and filling her with beauty, visions, and joy for sure. Her words were a continuation of those spoken by Isaiah generations before. There’s a Holy Way out there where the hungry are fed and the broken are made whole. Finding this Holy Way is possible for the oppressed as well as the oppressors. It is possible to walk the Holy Way with weak hands and feeble knees. It is possible even when earthquakes devastate in Indonesia, when planes crash in Pakistan, when geese die by the thousands in Montana, or when you’re camping in the rain.

This third Sunday in Advent, the Sunday of Joy, is to remind us that Joy is already present in our lives. Joy is that tiny flame that holds infinite heat and power when it is nurtured and tended properly. Joy keeps our feet moving on the Holy Way of hope peace, joy, and love when the world speaks only of grief, anger, despair, or hatred. We aren’t waiting for something that has not yet happened so much as we are calling ourselves to pay attention to what did happen, what is happening, and what will happen again and again.

We are a people in need of dry socks and warm food. We live in a world that needs us, the Body of Christ, to be the Holy Way where the hungry are fed, the sick are healed, and the oppressed are liberated. The only way we can possibly do or be any of this is to take time to carefully tend the fragile flame of joy. When we take the time and care to tend and feed it, Joy will become a fire that strengthens and warms us enough for us to continue telling our stories, singing our songs, and laughing over the simple pleasure of a warm fire while the rains pour down. Success makes all the difference…

Rise up, oh flame.
By thy lights glowing.
Show to us beauty,
Visions and joy.

RCL – Year A – Third Sunday in Advent – Joy – December 11, 2016
Isaiah 35:1-10
Psalm 146:5-10
Luke 1:46b-55
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11

Top Photo: CC0 image by James DeMers
Bottom Photo: CC0 image by Fernando Espi

Respond to Racism: Embody Christ

I’m not good when it comes to secrets. I’m not good at keeping silent when there is a proverbial dead elephant in the room. Here in Minnesota people attribute my “directness” to having spent most of my life in New England. That’s a part of it. The other part is that I grew up in a household with far too many secrets. We had a whole herd of those elephants lying around while everyone pretended they didn’t exist.

My personal way of coping was to seek after perfection. I made every effort to be the perfect child. I was an over-achiever who started babysitting at nine years old, volunteered full-time at a special needs day camp the summer I was thirteen, graduated from high school days after turning seventeen, and was ordained  to ministry at twenty-five. The problem is that I nearly died trying to be perfect, distracting myself from all the things that were too painful to face head on.

Now, reading the story of Martha, I see my younger self bent on getting everything right and pleasing those around me. There’s a time and a place for Martha, of course. Now, though, is not the time. Not only do I see myself in Martha’s worry-worn face, but I see so many well-intentioned church folks, particularly white church folks. We have hunkered down and kept working. We’ve worked to maintain our buildings. We’ve worked to balance our budgets. We’ve worked to keep our doors open. Some of us have even worked for justice for immigrants, for LGBTQ+ people, for prisoners, for those in need of food and shelter, and a myriad of other people and causes. How many of us have taken time to sit still and really listen well enough to be able to make real changes?

Why are there so many surprised faces when Black Lives Matter shuts down major highways in order to be seen and heard? Why are there so many surprised faces when gunmen open fire at protests, in churches, in mosques, in theaters, or in schools because no one noticed they were not well enough to own firearms? Why so many surprised faces when Donald Trump gathers so many supporters with his hate-speech and fear-mongering? Why so many surprised faces when we recognize that we live in a society that endorses solving problems with violence? Why so many surprised faces when too many youth express feeling hopeless about their futures?

The list could go on, but I will stop here. The church has also been distracted by these things and the more internal preoccupation with who is saved, the historical Jesus, the authority of scripture, and a few other divisive topics. We’ve lost track of our call to embody Christ in the world. We’ve succumbed to human concerns and have forgotten the truly sacred ones. How is it that a people called to love have allowed ourselves to be filled with so much hatred and fear? We have been distracted by things far more egregious than Martha’s household tasks.

Now is the time to sit and listen. Listen to the cries of our neighbors. Listen to the demands for justice. Listen for the words that will move us beyond our fears. Listen for the words that will convince us to act with more mercy than judgement. Mary knew where to turn in the tumult of her day. Surely, we can do the same.

It’s time to clear out the dead and decaying elephants from our church communities. The Civil Rights Movement changed things on the surface but not much deeper. Since that movement ended, there have been many opportunities for people of faith to be merciful and demand justice for all our neighbors. Mostly, we have remained silent. We cannot be silent anymore and remain faithful to a God who commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

So listen for a while. In that silent stillness, do you hear God’s call to speak truth to the powerful and privileged? Do you hear God calling you away from the distractions of everyday tasks and foolish excuses into acts of mercy, love, and justice? It’s all well and good to eat at Christ’s table but if we aren’t embodying that same bread and cup to those who hunger and thirst for justice, we might as well have gone through the local drive-thru.

RCL – Year C – Ninth Sunday after Pentecost – July 17, 2016
Amos 8:1-12 with Psalm 52 or
Genesis 18:1-10a with Psalm 15
Colossians 1:15-28
Luke 10:38-42

Photo: CC-BY-NC image by Rachael Keefe

Sometimes It Takes A Poet

It’s the Fourth Sunday of Advent and I’m doing my best to hold onto that. My mind is on Friday’s peace rally at a local Muslim community center, the Saturday Black Lives Matter march, and the emerging plans for rallies and conversations over Martin Luther King weekend. It’s hard to focus on Mary and Elizabeth when the tensions and conflicts of the world keep making themselves known.

There’s something in this account of Mary’s visit to her cousin that I’ve always found unsettling. Yes, it’s beautiful. The words Mary spoke are eloquent and filled with the love and promise of God. But I am still uncomfortable. I want to say it’s because it feels like I’ve peeked in on a private moment. However, it’s more than that.

Here are two woman who are well-acquainted with shame. Elizabeth had been barren in her childbearing years. She would have been told and believed that this was God’s doing, that she was judged as unworthy, sinful even. Since Zechariah was a priest, then it was surely Elizabeth’s sin that made her barren.

Until all of a sudden she wasn’t. This is not a rare story in and of itself. I can’t help but wonder if anyone who had mistreated her apologized after she conceived. Probably not. Yet, in those moments of joy where she experienced all her prayers answered, she likely didn’t care. She would have a child, a son who would play a part in changing the world. I wonder if she lived long enough to see what her baby boy would become…

Then there is Mary. She was young, almost too young, and she was pregnant unexpectedly. She was also unmarried. The usual punishment for this was death. If Joseph hadn’t taken her in, she would have been killed. Instead she goes to visit her cousin, Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was likely a better woman than I am. I would be annoyed if I were her. I mean she waited a very long time and likely shed many tears and whispered many prayers as the years piled up and her womb remained empty. Along comes Mary who finds herself pregnant without even trying, literally. On top of this, Elizabeth’s child would play second fiddle to Mary’s. I don’t know, maybe just having a child was enough?

Anyway, here we are with the meeting between the two. That’s when it happens. That’s when the child within Elizabeth leaps in the presence of the child within Mary. This is where my discomfort comes in. It just feels so personal and private, not necessarily a moment for the whole world to look in on for centuries.

Then I came across a poem by Luci Shaw titled, “Salutations.” Sometimes it takes a poet to make the overly familiar into something strange and new. The last few lines snapped me out of my inward focus this year:

And my heart turns over
when I meet Jesus
in you.

That’s it, isn’t it? The Gospel in the proverbial nutshell. This is how it should be with us when we meet family, friends, neighbors, and strangers. Our hearts should be leaping and turning over when we meet Christ in one another, a private moment that should be made public over and over again. This idea brings tears to my eyes. I’ve missed this simple message in this passage for years because I was too busy thinking about other things. I’ve missed meeting Christ in too many others because I’ve been too busy thinking about other things.

What better day of the year to recognize how much we’ve missed Christ in one another than on the Sunday that we acknowledge the great gift of Love given to us at Christmas?

RCL – Year C – Fourth Sunday of Advent – December 20, 1015
Micah 5:2-5a
Luke 1:46b-55 or Psalm 80:1-7
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45 [46-55]

Holy, Improbable Yes

The fourth Sunday of Advent is the perfect time for the story of Gabriel and Mary because it’s all about love–God’s great love for humanity and Mary’s willingness to bring that love into the world. This passage overflows with all the improbable possibilities God imagines for the whole of humanity. I have this vivid image in my mind of God anxiously awaiting to hear what Mary is going to say. Maybe there were a dozen other young women Gabriel asked on God’s behalf before Mary was courageous enough to say yes.

It seems impossible that such a thing could have happened. You don’t need me to tell you about all the broken places in this world. The horrific tragedy of the school attack in Pakistan, the violent deaths on our streets, the wars, illness, the homelessness, the hunger, the poverty that is as far away as the other side of the globe and as close as the face in the mirror. Mary’s life wasn’t any different. Human suffering surrounded her, too. But when she was asked to bear God into the world, she did not turn away or pretend not to hear.

We all are asked every day to bear God into the world. Mostly, we aren’t listening very well. So in these last few days before Christmas, take some time to think about it. How are you being called to bring Christ into the world? Do you have the courage to respond with a holy, improbable yes? If a teenage girl can do it, I’m betting there’s hope for the rest of us.

RCL – Year B – Fourth Sunday of Advent – Love – December 21, 2014
2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16
Luke 1:46-55 or Psalm 89:1-4, 19-26
Romans 16:25-27
Luke 1:26-38

Thinking about Mary in Advent

I wrote this reflection for an ecumenical group a few years ago and stumbled on it today and thought it went well with this week’s texts.

Let us, for the moment, put aside our theological differences.  We need not worry about the historical accuracy of the Christmas passages or if the Greek word for virgin really meant “virgin” or just “young woman.”  Instead, let us assume that the story of Mary and Gabriel is true and worthy of our attention.  And as we focus our attention on Mary, let us pray that God would open our hearts to a new knowledge and understanding…

Long ago, in days we hardly remember, a young girl lived in a small town and waited for the day of her marriage.  She came from an ordinary family.  She did not stand out in a crowd.  Her parents arranged for her to be married to a man who could pay a reasonable dowry and support her with his trade; he was a carpenter.  There was nothing unusual or extraordinary about either the girl, Mary, or the man, Joseph.

That is until one night, God asked her to do something beyond the scope of human imagination.  There are many who would say that God did not give Mary a choice, but read carefully and the choice was definitely there – and it was Mary’s to make.  She herself was little more than a child, but in one moment she made the most adult decision anyone will ever make.

And she was afraid.   There is no way around her fear.  Clearly, if some of Gabriel’s first words were, “Do not be afraid…” She was.  And with good reason.  How often does a teenager get a personal visit from one of God’s messengers?

However, in spite of her fear and her youth, she heard what the Messenger had to say.  She would conceive and bear the Son of the Most High.  She asked a very good question, “How can this be?”  And Gabriel explained it to her as well as it could be explained… the Holy Spirit would come upon her.  If this were not enough, her older (much older) cousin Elizabeth would also bear a son because nothing was impossible for God.

The scriptures do not mention any silence or time of reflection, but there had to have been a moment, as brief as the proverbial blink of an eye perhaps, that all was silent.  Mary had to at least take a breath and let the significance of the moment fill her, wash over her, boggle her mind, before she responded.  In a way, her response is more significant than the request.  Remember, she was only a teenager, a virgin, engaged, but not married.  She was a child up until the moment of her response:  “Let it be with me according to your word.”  Gabriel, no doubt, breathed a sigh of relief at this moment.  What would he have done if she had said, “No”?

But she said, “Yes.”  And this unwed, teenage mother changed the history of humankind.  Sure her fiance wanted to break it off until God intervened.  Yes, she had a hard time for a while and a long journey on foot (or on the back of a donkey) before she actually gave birth in a stable – little more than a dark, damp cave most likely.

But think of how little is really said of this incredible young woman.  Her actions changed the world almost as much as those of her son.  If it had not been for her saying “yes” to God’s impossible question, where would we be now?

Or if Mary had said “yes” and wanted the story to be about her, where would we be now? 

Let us not skip over her story this Christmas.  Let us, instead, look at what this young girl can teach us.  She became the bearer of God and then stepped out of the way so the story that continued was God’s, not hers.

She called herself “the servant of the Lord.”  Do we not also claim to be servants of the Lord?  How often do we say “Yes” to God?  How often do we agree to bear God into the world and then step out of the way so that the story that continues becomes God’s story and not ours?

This Christmas, take a moment to listen for God’s Messengers.  Ask yourself:  What is God calling me to do?  Can I say Yes?  Can I bear God into the world, even in a small way, and then step out of the way?

If fear gets in the way, remember we always have a choice.  But also remember that an unwed teenage mother changed the history of the world.

What is the greatest gift we can give or receive?  The answer is as simple as it is complex:  to bear God into the world and then step out of the way.

RCL  – Year A – Fourth Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 7:10-16
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-25