the scary, scary beauty of what's right here

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadows put to flight.

The somber-edged expectation of advent always jars a bit in the midst of the ostentatious commercial Holiday Season, but the dissonance feels extra jagged this year. I signed up families for Toys for Tots, and more than a few moms were near tears, wondering how they were going to get through the next few everything. Everywhere I turn folks are grieving, sick, and struggling under the weight of addiction, loneliness, fractured relationship, uncertainty, loss, and violence, to say nothing of creeping fascism. The heaviness is palpable and raw.

And that is the world to which Christ comes: Emmanuel, God-with-us in the messy trenches of fear and overwhelming burden. Present in chaos and storm, the manger-babe charts another course toward wholeness, justice, and all things made new. The last are first. The margins honored. Mountains leveled. The poor blessed.

Hoping, we set bruised hearts and tired feet toward everything for which we long so deeply: Streams in the desert. Healing. Safety. Community. Nourishment. Wisdom. Provision. Peace. Forgiveness. Restoration. Rest. Good faith.

And the ransomed of the Lord shall return,
and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;
they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

O come, O come, Emmanuel. Steady the knees that give way. 

good news for weary bodies

Studies show that girls who play sports delay their first sexual experiences, and when they do have sex, they are half as likely to become pregnant as girls who don’t play sports. I don’t know exactly why that is, but I wonder: do female athletes, strong and at home in their bodies, feel like they have less to prove than some of their peers? Might confidence learned on the field lead girls to exercise agency elsewhere, inclining a young woman to be more certain of her “yes” or her “no?” Would she feel less like an ornament and more an actor in her own skin?

Looking back, I felt most capable and myself not in my body at all but inside my head, which school and church both encouraged. My faith was something I believed fiercely and intellectualized, but it was not something I specifically learned to embody. Yes, Jesus wanted us to serve and follow with our whole selves, but there was a clearly implied dichotomy between flesh and spirit and a hierarchy of body to soul.

The stuff of spirit was holy and eternal and good.

The stuff of bodies, irrevocably tainted by sin, was lesser, fleeting, and ultimately passing away.

In the stories handed down around campfires, small groups, and lock-ins, Jesus’ perfect divinity trumped his dirt-under-the-fingernails humanity every time. If Christ’s own body didn’t matter much in the narrative of redemption, how in God’s name could mine?

I don’t recognize that Jesus anymore. (How could we have “a personal relationship” with One so pristine and removed from our shared human experience anyway?) And I no longer see wholeness or holiness in faith expressions divorcing spirituality from embodied existence or a person from her own self.

The shift was gradual. I studied religion (which was indeed a slippery slope). I put boots on the ground with activists of faith and set broad tables in community, with elders and teenagers and folks not like me. Somewhere along the way I became a feminist and a mother, and I began reading Scripture as if bodies mattered all along.

Blood and sweat. Laughter. Tears. Joy. Grief. Pleasure. Pain. Sickness. Sadness. Sex. Service. Social location! Ethnicity. Gender. Race. Disability. Age. Health. Birth. Death. Food. Family. Friendship. Resistance. Rest. Play. Work. Worship. Solitude. Community. Suffering. Celebration. Incarnation. Resurrection. God meets us—and works through us—within embodied experiences. I can meditate, pray, study, and love, but never apart from my own body. With physical bodies we practice our faith within a physical world, and it’s with bodies that Christians make up the Body of Christ together.

It’s perhaps my favorite metaphor, but the Body of Christ was never meant to exist solely as flat words on a dusty page. Together, here, now, WE are the very Word of God enfleshed, the diverse hands and feet of Jesus in an aching world.

**

Glossy magazines, movie trailers, and primetime television tell us that bodies matter, too, of course: white, thin, youthful, rich bodies, mostly. Black bodies matter, so long as they entertain a white gaze. Many bodies are rendered invisible in popular culture (and our own neighborhoods, too). Once the shiny layers are peeled back, it’s an oppressive, restrictive story: bodily mattering is exceptionally limited and painfully exclusive. The media’s emphasis on desirable, unattainable bodies is perhaps not unrelated to a Church’s hyper focus on “greater” things unseen, spiritual, and eternal. We desperately want to tell a better story than the airbrushed, whitewashed ones taunting us in the check-out lines, so Christians talk earnestly of hearts and heaven.

But we are still embodied creatures who thirst and hurt and desire. What has the gospel to say for imperfect bodies here and now?

**

While it’s true that sorrow finds each of us, it’s hard to argue against the insulation that class, whiteness, and money can afford. In public housing where I work, thick concrete walls may keep out fire, but specters of illness, addiction, violence, and death loom larger than life sometimes.

We say bodies matter, but what about elderly bodies? Sick bodies? Fat bodies? Single bodies? Disabled bodies? Frail and crooked bodies? What about the bodies of noisy teens, young moms, or kids whose dads are in jail? Do the bodies of poor people matter, too?

I don’t think Christians can counter gnostic “gospels,” dissolve inherited dichotomies between flesh and spirit, or adequately affirm our physical selves without also intentionally choosing to see all the ways our bodies and bodily experiences are not alike and how very differently our different bodies are valued, both interpersonally and systemically. To do that, we’ll need eyes to see, ears to hear, hands to comfort, hearts to understand, and feet to kick at the darkness of bad theology and bodily harm till daylight bleeds through, and together we are healed.

Emmanuel, God with us, pitched his tent in our messy midst. That’s what we anticipate this Advent: Christ showing up, his very presence hallowing all he touches. Jesus–washer of feet, healer of lepers, feeder of crowds, esteemer of women, releaser of captives, blesser of mourners, friend of sinners and outcasts–could not be defeated by violence or even death, and his deeply embodied gospel is good news for weary bodies now.

The Lord is with us. Take we heart and be not afraid.

-------------------------
Faith Feminisms is back this first week of Advent with timely meditations on how and why #bodiesmatter. Come by to read, and be sure to link up any old or new post fitting with the theme of embodied life and faith practice. We'd love to hear from a spectrum of voices.
I'm also linking up two poems fitting with the theme: Incarnation and Test Everything. Blessings to you this Advent, loves. It's dark and getting darker, but there are so many reasons to hope.

[Archived here.]

Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayer

I met Micha Boyett the first time I attended the Festival of Faith and Writing in 2012. I'd long admired her blog writing and enjoyed hearing firsthand about her book project, which although mostly drafted, was far from making its way out into the world.

Just two years later, at that same conference, I had my own copy of her published work in hand and was able to congratulate her in person. Found: A Story of Questions, Grace & Everyday Prayeris one of the loveliest books I read last year. It's partly about finding a home in the rhythms of the liturgical year, which is why She Loves Magazine chose it for their book club during Lent this March.

I enjoyed the beautiful writing and resonated with Micha's struggle to find meaning in the lonely ordinariness of young motherhood, particularly after the harried pace and purpose of professional ministry. Others would certainly connect with the perfectionist anxieties she documents and her search for peace in God apart from the try-hard faith of her youth.

It's a book about an honest and at times uncertain faith with deep roots and room enough to breathe, grieve, and celebrate big joys and little victories. If you want to read along with She Loves, they've got a Facebook group and they'll be talking about it on March 25 at the site. Happy reading.

strangers in a strange land

Caesar’s imperial census compelled Mary and Joseph to the pilgrims’ path, far from home for their son’s birth to a world brimful of heartache and cruelty. King Herod’s murderous edict set the young family fleeing to Egypt where they lived several years as refugees. The sword, foretold by the prophet to pierce Mary’s very soul, would first cut countless others’ to the quick.

“A voice is heard in Ramah,

mourning and great weeping,

Rachel weeping for her children

and refusing to be comforted,

because they are no more.”

Few carols lament the empty-armed mothers of Bethlehem, but their grief bore witness to ruthless political expedience and state violence long before that dark day in Golgotha. Or a tear-filled August in Ferguson.

“Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

The nativity of our manger-born King reveals an oppressive displacement not adequately conveyed by children’s Christmas pageantry. But Jesus’ babyhood did not exempt him from the rocky stranger’s path even as he was nursed at his mother’s breast. Lamb of God, on the lam before he was yet weaned. To follow in Christ’s steps is to know that same uncertain insecurity, the felt constancy only of the target on one’s back. Wholly welcome no tangible place, belonging only to mercurial sisters and brothers and an unseen, unchanging God, Emmanuel’s path leads ever outward from comfortable center to harried margin, dispossessed people, and cross.

And yet, somehow, to joy. Christ’s own chosen displacements–from heaven, Rome, and custom–can mend this hard world’s sharpest breaches. And we who’ll “do even greater things than these,” will call the castaways, bind up broken hearts, and walk the weary wanderers home at last. Repenting of our own callous casting out, wayward hearts, and dirty, colluding hands, we’ll “stay woke” this advent to light kindling even now in lands of deep darkness, fueled by cast off boots, blood-soaked garments, and every shattered yoke.

“to give his people the knowledge of salvation

through the forgiveness of their sins,

because of the tender mercy of our God,

by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven

to shine on those living in darkness

and in the shadow of death,

to guide our feet into the path of peace.”

We do not walk this lonesome way alone. Be strong and take heart, all who wait and watch and weep: Emmanuel, ransom of captives, is near.

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with the sound the carols drowned

As advent begins amid swelling protest and lamentation, the poem-turned-song, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, echoes in my ears.

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said

The meditative timbre of advent never fails to resonate with me. Its melancholic, hopeful longing jars against the flashy lights and blur of the Christmas [shopping] season, mirroring the tensions and promise of the now-and-not-yet-fully-realized Kingdom of God.

We wait, and we watch. We cultivate hope, awaiting the coming of Emmanuel, already present and at work among us and within us. We take heart, pushing together against hate and trusting in the peace on earth that is come and shall come at last.

when the darkness seems impenetrable

When we are discouraged by the apparently slow progress of all our honest efforts, by the failure of this or that person, and by the ever new reappearance of enemy powers and their apparent victories, then we should know: the time shall be fulfilled. Because of the noise and activity of the struggle and the work, we often do not hear the hidden gentle sound and movement of the life that is coming into being. But here and there, at hours that are blessed, God lets us feel how he is everywhere at work and how his cause is growing and moving forward. The time is being fulfilled and the light shall shine, perhaps just when it seems that the darkness is impenetrable.

This excerpt is from Eberhard Arnold's "When the Time Was Fulfilled," a meditation from the wondrous Watch For The Light: Readings For Advent And Christmas.  The publisher, Plough, has dozens of titles available--including many pdf and e-reader files for free--and the whole essay can be found here.

Happy new year, friends. May 2014 be full of love and hope, life and light. Time shall indeed be fulfilled.

the melting of ice and the future of history

Somewhere down the road we'll lift up our glass
And toast the moment and the moments past
The heartbreak and laughter, the joy and the tears
The scary, scary beauty of what's right here

{Over the Rhine, "Here It Is" from Snow Angels.}

Feeling wistful this advent. Lighting candles and longing for all things made new.

stuck between stations

Four hundred years was the echo of time between prophesy and that first advent.

Four hundred years of silence and waiting. And hope.

Blessed is she who believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her.

–

Bus stops, grocery lines, and on-hold music teach us to think of waiting as throwaway time, a way station between here and Where We Want To Be.

But in some sense, isn’t all of life a way station, this now-and-not-yet time between Christ’s resurrection and return? We pray and work toward on-earth-as-it-is-in-heaven, trusting the Kingdom of God grows among us, but things aren’t right, not yet. Sin, death, and oppression abound. We worship things, objectify people, and pick each other’s wounds until they’re raw. Here isn’t Home, yet here we are, overwhelmed by longing for Eden’s shalom.

He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

It’s a troublesome tension: treading dark corners without despairing of them and holding onto hope though the waiting feels interminable.

–

I’ve played the waiting game. Looking for a job, waiting out a rough one. Trying to connect, to put down roots that take. Some days parenting is an exercise in being fully present, in not just waiting for second shift when Dad tags in, bedtime, or tomorrow’s new mercies, sweet Jesus, please.

I want to learn the discipline of waiting well. To not wish away this season for an imaginary ideal. I don’t want to despise the day of small things, missing today’s hallowed joys waiting numbly for tomorrow’s, real or fantasy.

Narrow expectations prepare us only for disappointment, and they’re the opposite of the kind of expectancy advent calls us to. Advent’s hope isn’t a perfect, selfish fantasy. Our hope is a Savior who bends low and pours himself out.

Waiting well prepares our hearts to love like that.

–

I wonder sometimes about the landscape of faith between testaments, during those four hundred years of scriptural silence. The Bible is mum, but surely God moved. His prophets kept no records, but wasn’t every common bush afire with God? Did the hills burst into song and the trees of the field clap their hands?

Even now, spring lies waiting beneath winter’s dormancy.

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.

Can I trust God at work beyond all that I see, hear, and touch? Can I glimpse glory amidst the mundane?

–

Anna waits, her husband dead fifty years and without any man as her surety. Even in those barren years, the faithful kept watch. She worships and wonders, and she prophesies. God’s Word was never silent for those with ears to hear.

She gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.

The Word enfleshed poured out his Spirit, bidding Anna to speak as the prophets of old. Steadfast Anna, mouthpiece for God’s good work. Let lonesome exiles rejoice: Emmanuel has come.

They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.

Blessed are they who wait and mourn and the expectant ones who hope.

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the scandalous presence of death

Watch, O Lord, with those who wake, or watch, or weep tonight, and give Your angels and saints charge over those who sleep. Tend Your sick ones, O Lord Christ. Rest Your weary ones. Bless Your dying ones. Soothe Your suffering ones. Shield Your joyous ones, and all for Your love's sake. Amen.

(From the night office. The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime)

Lamb of God
You take away the sins of the world.
Have mercy on us.
Grant us peace.

For the unbearable toil of our sinful world,
we plead for remission.
For the terror of absence from our beloved,
we plead for your comfort.
For the scandalous presence of death in your Creation,
we plead for the resurrection.

Lamb of God
you take away the sins of the world.
Have mercy on us.
Grant us peace.
Come, Holy Spirit, and heal all that is broken in our lives, in our streets, and in our world. In the the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

(Death of Someone Killed in the Neighborhood from Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals)

The whole meaning of the Christian community lies in offering a space in which we wait for what we have already seen. Christian community is the place where we keep the flame alive among us and take it seriously so that it can grow and become stronger in us. In this way we can live with courage, trusting that there is a spiritual power in us that allows us to live in this world without being seduced constantly by despair, lostness, and darkness.

That is how we dare to say that God is a God of love even when we see hatred all around us. That is why we can claim that God is a God of life even when we see death and destruction and agony all around us. We say it together. We affirm it in one another. Waiting together, nurturing what has already begun, expecting its fulfillment—that is the meaning of marriage, friendship, community, and the Christian life.

(Henri Nouwen in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas)

the radical gifts of christmas

He went to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me,
    because he has anointed me
    to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners
    and recovery of sight for the blind,
to set the oppressed free,
    to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him. He began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” (Luke 4:16-21)

These are the gifts of Christmas, the ones delivered to us from God by Mary's son. There are more: 

comfort for all who mourn

provision for those who grieve

a crown of beauty (instead of ashes)

the oil of joy (instead of mourning)
a garment of praise (instead of a spirit of despair)

you shall be called by new names:

oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor

priests of the Lord, ministers of our God

you shall receive a new purpose:

rebuild the ancient ruins

restore the places long devastated
renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.

(instead of your shame) you will receive a double portion,

(instead of disgrace) you will rejoice in your inheritance.

“For I, the Lord, love justice; I hate robbery and wrongdoing. In my faithfulness 
I will reward my people and make an everlasting covenant with them."

I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me 
with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, 

as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow,
so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up before all nations. (Isaiah 61)

---

The radical, reconciling, redemptive gifts of Christmas won't fit under any tree, (and I don't mean that as a "The true meaning of Christmas isn't found at the mall!" cliche).

Freedom from chains of shame and despair. Freedom to become the community that lives out salvation together.

Comfort. Joy. Justice. Praise. Meaning. Mission. Restoration. Righteousness. Healing. Shalom.

A gospel that is good news for the grieving and worrisome to the empire's halls of power. The upside-down kingdom of our God-with-flesh, born in a barn, who lived to set a broken world aright.

These are the gifts. This is the Giver.

Unto us a child is born. Emmanuel, who lights our way.

Updated: I wrote this before the shootings in Newtown, but this scripture seem even timelier now. Apologies that the giveaway, (now closed), seems out of place. 

---
DaySpring wants to cheer one reader with a Reversible Tree Skirt and Advent Tabletop Devotional which they kindly sent my way, too. U.S. shipping only, please. (Affiliate links.)

To be entered in the giveaway, leave a comment sharing something about how are you celebrating Christmas or what are you meditating on this advent. We'll pick a winner at random on Sunday at 11:59 PM EST, so please make sure you leave an email to get in touch.

The Smitten Word on Facebook
{shared with Tanya Marlow's advent series}

incarnation

Unto us a child is born of a woman,
nursed at her breast; the government is upon
him who shouldered the cross. Within world of sight
salvation springs up, enfleshed: rough hands hewn,
broke bread and washed feet. Water to wine, L'chaim,
by his body, we're healed. Trembling, she

touched his robe, yoke shattering, bleeding
shame, too. Daughter, he named, esteemed:
Go in peace. You are clean.

King in a cradle, born in a stable, Mighty God
traded heaven for here. Man of sorrows, stricken,
his blood-soaked shroud and ours are fuel for the fire.
From ash he rose, disarming darkness; with nail-
scarred hands and empty tomb, the Word revives
ancient tale. Another birth, grim curse reversed. Behold,
bending low what the Son of Man hallows:

Emmanuel makes all things new.


Shared with Imperfect Prose and the #progGOD challenge (even though Tony called poetry easy and suggested it might be a bit anemic theologically. Imma let you finish...)

Tiny Prints giveaway {ends TONIGHT 11/19}

**This giveaway is closed (with sincerest apologies to email subscribers.)  I loved hearing all your traditions and memories in the comments! The winner is lindacarol. Congrats!**

It's beginning to look a lot like...Thanksgiving, right? It's not even Advent 'til December 2, but I'm of the opinion that the day after Thanksgiving is a great day to get out the Christmas decorations (and put on the Sufjan boxed set that makes Jim a little ragey).

But! None of this is the point, because no matter whether you're in the Christmas spirit yet or not, it's decidedly not too early to beginning thinking about holiday cards, and I have a sweet giveaway for one lucky guy or gal:

$50 worth of free goodness from Tiny Prints.

There is one code up for grabs for $50 off [not including shipping, cannot be combined with other offers]. This is also a super fast turnaround, and the winner's coupon code will expire 12/14/12.

We designed our Christmas cards last year through Tiny Prints, and they turned out absolutely beautifully. They have hundreds of fun, elegant, and stylish templates for all sorts of occasions featuring one photo or a dozen, and they're printed on quality card stock.

So, to enter: leave a comment sharing a favorite holiday memory or tradition. That's it. (You're always more than welcome to "like" The Smitten Word on facebook, but alas, it will not net you extra entries.) Random.org will spit out a winner tonight at midnight, so make sure you leave an email to get in touch.

Disclosure: this giveaway (and our own holiday cards) are sponsored by Tiny Prints.

star of wonder

friends, i pray that your christmas was merry indeed.  we savored our first celebration at home, just the four of us.  jim and dylan sang their hearts out at worship on christmas eve, and today was leisurely and lovely here.  we opted to read the christmas story at home, snuggled tight, jammie-clad and chins dripping clementine juice.

stockings, crepes, much play, elegant dinner with friends, jim's eggnog and a meandering pursuit of the town's best (worst?) christmas lights rounded out the evening.  (and a ryan gosling movie--merry christmas to me!)

as my mother frequently reminds, the 25th is but the first of twelve days of christmas.  let the rejoicing continue.  the Lord is come!

 Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

 ‘Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
   for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.
 He has raised up a mighty savior for us
   in the house of his servant David,
 as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
   that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.

 Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,
   and has remembered his holy covenant,
 the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,
   to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,
might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness
   before him all our days.

 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
   for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
 to give knowledge of salvation to his people
   by the forgiveness of their sins.
 By the tender mercy of our God,
   the dawn from on high will break upon us,
 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
   to guide our feet into the way of peace.’ 

{Luke 1:67-79}

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the risk of birth

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war & hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour & truth were trampled by scorn --
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn --
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

 

by Madeleine L'Engle

 
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God would be born in thee

i penned a few fragmented thoughts on creating space to see the sacred in our midst over at my friend heatherly's.   het is focusing her heart and ours on joy this advent and this year, and she's curated a lovely series of reflections.  she writes A Pinkdaisy Life and is one of the most encouraging voices I've met in this online space--one i hope to hug in person sometime.  i hope you'll stop by and say hello.

Lo, in the silent night
A child to God is born
And all is brought again
That ere was lost or lorn.

Could but thy soul, O man,
Become a silent night!
God would be born in thee
And set all things aright.

-15th century

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don we now our gay apparel

may your days be merry, bright, and eggnog-spiked.

(the title, lifted from"deck the halls," seemed apropos for an occasion as festive as our annual ugly sweater christmas party.  it is not a gay joke.  i trust you know it's not like that here.)

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that God became a mother's son

Poets and myth-makers and other tellers of stories and fairy tales have often spoken of mothers.  One time they meant the earth; another time they meant nature.  By this word they tried to disclose the mysterious creative fount of all things, to conjure up the welling mystery of life.  In all this there was hunger and anticipation and longing and Advent--waiting for this blessed woman.

That God became a mother's son; that there could be a woman walking the earth whose womb was consecrated to be the holy temple and tabernacle of God--that is actually earth's perfection and the fulfillment of its expectations.

So many kinds of Advent consolation stream from the mysterious figure of the blessed, expectant Mary.  The gray horizons must grow light.  It is only the immediate scene that shouts so loudly and insistently.  Beyond these things is a different realm, one that is now in our midst.  The woman has conceived the child, sheltered it beneath her heart, and given birth to the Son.  The world has come under a different law.  We are not speaking of only historical events that happened once, on which our salvation rests.  Advent is the promise denoting the new order of things, of life, of our existence.

We must remember today with courage that the blessed woman of Nazareth foreshadows the light in our midst today.  Deep down in our being, our days and our destinies, too, bear the blessing and mystery of God.

-Alfred Delp, Watch for the Light.

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mourning in lonely exile

Advent hits me harder than lent.  It's the waiting, I think:  the quiet contrast of a teen-aged mother to the  holidaze of shopping and hurrying.  It's the reminder that we're not just counting down to Christmas but to the second coming of Christ, when this too shall be made right.

The waiting is the hardest part, after all. 

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

My spirit is acquainted with loneliness, the echo of exile.  The stranger and alien are familiar roles.

Advent reminds me gently that my Lord knows that path better than I ever will.  Born a refugee during a genocide, his young family spent their first years in exile.  Returning home, theirs was an occupied province where the realities of the Pax Romana were far removed from the shalom of God.

To follow Christ is to drink the cup of suffering.  We'll never feel truly at Home until he calls us there.

****

This summer at the the U2 show,  we had a little church up in section 521. One of my favorite songs, of theirs or anyone else's, remains this:

I have climbed highest mountains 
I have run through the fields 
Only to be with you 
I have run 
I have crawled 
I have scaled these city walls 
Only to be with you 

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for 

I have kissed honey lips 
Felt the healing in her fingertips 
It burned like a fire 
This burning desire 

I have spoke with the tongue of angels 
I have held the hand of a devil 
It was warm in the night 
I was cold as a stone   

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for 

I believe in the Kingdom Come 
Then all the colors will bleed into one 
But yes I'm still running 

You broke the bonds 
And you loosed the chains 
Carried the cross 
Of my shame 
You know I believe it   

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for 

Years ago, at a youthworkers' convention, a christian band covered it, changing the last words to "I finally found what I'm looking for," all smiles and jubilant arm waving.

In tidying up the loose ends, they missed the point.  Their version was hollow, and its lyrics rung false.

Have any of us found what we're looking for?

As Christians, we live the in-between.  We know the hope of resurrection that defeated sin and death on the cross, and we have glimpsed a coming Kingdom, but it's not yet fully realized this side of heaven

We look around, and much is broken. 

Our sisters ache.  Our brothers hunger.  

During advent, we await a King who will mend all the broken places: not just the Babe in a manger long ago, but the One who will come in glory, whose Kingdom will have no end.

So we rejoice, even in suffering, because exile is not the end of the Story:

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 

“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” 

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new.”

We remember and take heart.  We remind each other that we're waiting for that which we have already seen.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

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waiting together {an advent meditation}

The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that something has begun.  Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in the conviction that something is happening where you are and that you want to be present to it.  A waiting person is someone who is present to the moment, who believes that this moment is the moment...

Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere.  The moment is empty.  But patient people dare to stay where they are.  Patient living means to live actively in the present and wait there.  Waiting, then, is not passive.  It involves nurturing the moment, as a mother nurtures the child that is within her...

The whole meaning of Christian community lies in offering a space in which we wait for that which we have already seen.  Christian community is the place where we keep the flame alive among us and take it seriously, so that it can grow and become stronger in us.  In this way we can live with courage, trusting that there is a spiritual power in us that allows us to live in this world without being seduced constantly by despair, lostness, and darkness.  That is how we dare to say that God is love even when we see hatred all around us.  That is why we can claim that God is a God of life even when we see death and destruction and agony all around us.  We say it together.  We affirm it in one another.  Waiting together, nurturing what has already begun, expecting its fulfillment--that is the meaning of marriage, friendship, community, and the Christian life.

-Excerpted from "Waiting for God," Henri Nouwen. Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas.

{image: brett jordan}

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have yourself a mary little christmas {part 5}

Do you remember the part in Catcher in the Rye when Holden goes to see the Rockettes Radio City Christmas show?

Old Jesus would've puked if he could see it.

Aspects of The Holidaze leave me feeling similarly at times.   The Incarnation--the most fantastic Story in which a baby Messiah is born to a teenage virgin and the Holy Spirit--somehow gets lost in a flurry of shopping, obligations and merry-making.

It will unless, of course, we purpose to keep Christ at the center of our celebrating.  We can choose to observe advent and the Spirit-working instead of The Christmas Season as prescribed by Santas and shopping malls.

And Mary said:

   “My soul glorifies the Lord

  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has been mindful

   of the humble state of his servant.

From now on all generations will call me blessed,

  for the Mighty One has done great things for me—

   holy is his name.

 His mercy extends to those who fear him,

   from generation to generation.

 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;

   he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.

 He has brought down rulers from their thrones

   but has lifted up the humble.

 He has filled the hungry with good things

   but has sent the rich away empty.

 He has helped his servant Israel,

   remembering to be merciful

 to Abraham and his descendants forever,

   just as he promised our ancestors.” {Luke 1:46-55}

Mary, awaiting the birth of her son and King, reveals that Christmas isn't about stuff...or even family.  It's about worship, mercy and humility.  Jesus' Incarnation inverts worldly power structures:  we place our trust in a Savior born in a stable.  Emmanuel, God-with-us, takes fragile human form and condescends to have his diaper changed.

Perhaps our Christmas observances could stand a dose of humilty, too.  We'll need to create space for quiet reflection if we are to tear down our idols from their thrones.

When we fill our holiday tables and stockings this year, what if we lived out this legacy of filling the hungry with good things, too?  Advent Conspiracy is a movement that seeks to honor Christ by celebrating his birth another Way.  Their two minute video is worth the watch for sure:

Worship fully. Spend less. Give more. Love all.

The alternative gift catalogs highlighted below allow givers to purchase things like shares in a well and supply clean water to a whole village. These are a few bigger ones but many denominational missions organizations offer similar projects that are worth funding, too.

Goats provide nutrition and extra income that can grant access to education.  A bike can mean safe passage to vulnerable girls whose walks to school are not safe.  We can provide care and hope for girls who have been trafficked or fund a business that will enable a whole family to become self-sufficient.    If you have kids, picking presents out of these catalogs together can be a fun and tangible way to help re-orient Christmas toward worship and giving.  We have chickens, and my little ones love the idea of buying chickens and other animals that children across the world can chase, too.

International Justice Mission

World Vision

Heifer International

Oxfam

Here's to celebrating a holiday fit for a King born in a stable.  Holy is his name.

This is the final installment of a series about the intersection of 
faith, justice, consumerism and poverty. 

i am the 99 {part 1} 

i am the 1. {part 2} 

a theology of enough {part 3} 

Buy Less, Live More | 6 Practical Ways to Make A Difference With Your Dollar {part 4}

How does your family observe advent and Christmas? How do you keep consumerism from running amok in your home? How do you incorporate service into your celebrations?

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