Martin Luther King, Jr

On the anniversary of the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Haiti

Message from Katharine Jefferts Schori and Rob Radtke on Haiti and the needs:



Go Episcopal Relief and Development to donate.

Christmas 2

Lessons for Christmas 2.

How dear to me is your dwelling, O LORD of hosts!*
My soul has a desire and longing for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God. Psalm 84:1

How many of us are doing now what we thought we would be doing when we thought about that as children or even a few years ago? How do you deal with the changes and chances that have happened to you along the way?

The Magi were seekers - we don't know too much about them, not how many nor if they were all men nor their religion, except they came from the east and brought three gifts. Lots of stories have been woven around their journey from the east to the palace of the King to the home of the Holy Family. As I think about them - I see them at home in Magi-land, sitting around the table pondering their star charts, wondering about this new star in the heavens. To them it is a portent of some great birth, a royal birth - one important enough to cross cultural, religious, tribal and national boundaries. They feel called to go in person to see what this might be. How long will the journey be? What should they take? What sort of gifts should they bring. Of course, gold -- that is the only gift for a royal birth- a new king. Frankincense, good in case this new king is also a priest - a spiritual ruler and not just a temporal king. Myrrh - hmm - not so sure what that will be for - but good for healing as well as for those who have died.

On the way - they kept their eyes on the star - but stars, if you have ever navigated by them are somewhat difficult to follow for a specific destination. A GPS would be handy but they would have to wait a few years for that! How would they know for sure which house was the right one? So they stop by the palace - thinking surely the king would know about a royal birth. They get a few more specific directions from the palace scholars but also set in motion some unforeseen consequences due to the horrific nature of Herod. Finally they make it to the little family - not much of a king or kingly surroundings. I wonder what they thought - did we find the right child? As they begin their journey back home - they pay attention to the dream that warns them not to go back to Herod - and to find a different way to go.

In the years that followed did they hear more about Jesus? Did they wonder if it was all for nothing? We don't know.

I think our lives are lived in much the same way as the Magi -- we have plans, other things intervene, we have dreams - some we follow - some cannot be followed. Some of us are very focused on our grand goal - so focused we don't see the rest of life passing us by and then if we don't reach that goal - we feel lost. Or we get distracted from our grand goal and feel like we missed our chance to attain whatever it was we thought we wanted.

When I was a child - I thought I would grow up to be a football player - that plan did not really work out for some obvious reasons. Some things I did from a plan, like becoming a 4th grade teacher, but mostly life just happened and either I grieved a loss or I found the happenings were better than my plan and found joy in what was and is.

In Jesus' day there were not many choices- your birth status pretty much determined what you would be. Women and children would be property, men had to live out their lives in the slot that was predetermined - born royal - you stayed royal unless some sibling killed you to gain your position, born a slave - you stayed a slave and your children were slaves too. Workers taught their work to their sons who took over the family business. Peasants and shepherds worked for others when work could be found.

Jesus brought a different way of understanding life-- a way of freedom even in bad circumstances. A sense of being beloved of God -- brothers and sisters with all humankind regardless of status, race, gender, and all the barriers we erect between us. The visit of the shepherds- one of the lowliest places in society and the visit of the Magi - from an elite, wealthy and educated class - the two show us a different way of understanding our lives. Our happiness and well being do not depend on what we do or how many goals we attain. It depends on understanding this beloved-ness and that all others are equally beloved. Life is for being open to whatever comes along- for being present to one another - it's not about how much we achieve or how much money we make.

The psalmist has it right- presence - God's presence in our lives and our becoming God's presence in the world -- that is the kindom -- that is our longing and desire.



This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness
comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

Rumi

Spiritual but not religious?

Barbara Brown Taylor speaks on the intersection of religion and spirituality. She says "I am religious, but not contentious"and I am spiritual, but not detached". She offers a very articulate discussion of religious dualism. Q and A, too:

Treasures

From the newsletter of St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, Fairbanks, Alaska:

“But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19)

Remembering his parents’ red bell, which always hung in the house on Christmas, because it had always hung in his father’s childhood house on Christmas . . . and now has disappeared. maybe.

In those days . . . the trash furnace behind the School was a round contraption of rusted metal and a gimcracky teetering stovepipe. It hid behind the white frame buildings, away from public view. You could watch bright flames burning in the rusted holes of the metal. In the days after Christmas, the B.I.A. teacher was back there, tossing boxes through the opened door. I stumbled into him and watched the flames burning. Schools accumulate paper, and I assumed that’s what was in the boxes. Black and gray smoke up into the winter air; delicate ash falling fragilely down onto our snow.

Then I saw the boxes disappearing into the consuming flames were filled with Christmas ornaments and decorations. Santa Clauses and angels and candycanes offered into the conflagration.

The teacher was a creative soul. He had stunned us early in the Winter, when he walked into the Village Store, fresh from a school lesson on the Civil War, dressed as Abraham Lincoln. (“They must handpick these people for us”, said my brother-in-law watching, shaking his head). He had charmed us at Christmas, with the beauty and intricacy of his handmade Christmas decorations. Now they were all disappearing into the flames.

One of the understood Rules of Community Life is hardly ever do we interfere in someone else’s business. We will all watch what you are doing and we will all certainly discuss what you are doing, but hardly ever will we intervene. It’s your business. Nonetheless, I had to protest. “What are you doing?” I asked, “Those were wonderful”. As he tossed the decorations into the flames he said, “I make Christmas decorations every year; and then throw them away after. If I didn’t; I wouldn’t make new ones. Christmas is always new, not old.”

And away they went, turning all into delicate dark ash falling fragilely onto our white snow.

We construct the House of Christmas as a House of Memory. We hang childhood ornaments made by now adult children on the trees and remember. A familiar carol comes jangley over the store’s speakers, and we are snared in once upon a time moments. My friend sits at home on her couch remembering, I am sure, nearly a century ago - she and her friend Josephine lying in bed on that long ago Christmas night, whispering and eating Christmas candy. Candlelight whispers in the darkened Church and we are wrapped in other Christmases, other services. We crowd into the Church Christmas Eve, all of us, seen and unseen, with all of our memories – “the hopes and fears of all the years” - and they are sacred and real that Night, reminding us they are sacred and real all nights, all days.

And yet, and yet. Christmas is always more than memories, a once-upon-a-time, a Past. “Once in royal David’s City”, yes; but it is Christmas Present. Christmas Future. Christmas wine is always a new wine.

Quietly over there, hardly noticed, that young quiet couple, crowded shyly into the corner of the Church. He stands, protective. She sits, holding the Child, wrapped in its soft blue blanket. The Child sleeps, eyelashes soft on cheek. There are memories of the pregnancy, its wonder and terror, but now there is only This Child, This Holy Night, This First Christmas for them, for us.

Always New; Always Beginning.

“There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;”- “God’s Grandeur”, Gerard Manley Hopkins

From a heathen and a pagan...

From a heathen and a pagan on the side of the rebel Jesus:



h/t to Episcopal Cafe

Israeli Conscientious Objectors

Young Israelis refuse to serve in the army while it occupies Palestine:



From Jewish Voice for Peace

Dear Ann,

A year ago today, tens of thousands demanded the release of Israel's youngest prisoners of conscience, the Shministim.

These 12th graders courageously chose prison time over serving in the occupying Israeli army, and became heroes to us and the entire world.

Last Chanukah, just one day after Tamar Katz was released from solitary confinement, the young Shministim gathered to celebrate and to decide how to thank the 20,000 (and counting) Jewish Voice for Peace members who wrote letters, attended rallies, and wrote articles on their behalf.

This is the message they carefully wrote together. One year later, as Shministit Or Ben-David sits in prison in Israel, and as Jews around the world prepare to celebrate the last night of Chanukah, it seems appropriate to share it with you again. We can't imagine a more important message during this festival of lights.



Dear friends and supporters,

During Chanukah the festive of lights, we, the Shministim, would like to take a moment to thank you for all you've done for us and for our struggle.

While we sit down with our families and light the first candle of the holiday, symbolizing the rebellion against an occupying army, some of us are still behind bars, denied the freedom to celebrate the holiday with their loved ones, denied the right to freedom of thought and political consciousness.

During this dark period of consecutive jail terms, military trials and attempts to break our beliefs, you were our light.

Each and every one of you who helped with the campaign, who sent a supporting letter, who sent the link of the website to a friend. You've let our struggle be heard around the world, the letters, the postcards and posters, the demonstrations, all of those actions fulfilled our wildest dreams.

We would like to thank you once again and wish you all a happy and free holiday.

in solidarity,
The Shministim



The struggle for freedom continues.

Palestinian human rights activists like Abdallah Abu Rahmah and Mohammad Othman now sit in Israeli prisons with you as their most important global advocates.

Thank you to each one of you for being a part of this struggle.

Happy Holidays and Chag Sameach,

now I am ready for Christmas...

Once in Royal David's City:

Advent Calendars

A collection of Advent Calendars online - for your daily use to slow down for the season:

Diocese of Washington, DC Advent Calendar 2009

BBC Bach Calendar

Christmas around the world by Woodlands Junior School, UK

Church of England

The Adventures of Mary and Joseph from Paperless Christmas

Beliefnet Advent Calendar

Trinity Wall Street

And my Favorite: Tate the Cat

UPDATE:
And one more - from ECVA Grace: advent and art

And one from The Anglican Church of Canada

And this from OCICBW



Add yours in the comments.

At a peace gathering - Sölle

Thanks to Acts of Hope

At a peace gathering

We’re not only ten thousand I said
there are more of us here
the dead of both wars
are with us

A journalist came and asked
how could I know that
haven’t you seen them
i ask the clueless guy
haven’t you heard your grandmother
groaning when they started it up again
do you live all alone
without any dead who drop in
for a drink with you
do you really think
you are only yourself

Dorothee Sölle, The Mystery of Death

XXI Pentecost

Readings.

The man born blind:
The question this raises for me is "what do I have to cast off to be able to see?" How are things I have accumulated, the cultural baggage of my life, blinding me to seeing life? A priest who is blind says that this passage speaks to him - not because it offers him sight as sighted people would have it but because it leads him to "insight." His physical blindness allows him to hear the hearts of those who come to him with out being blinded by their appearance, clothing or attitude.

Earlier in Mark, we hear the story of the rich young man who does everything right but cannot follow Jesus because he can not rid himself of his possessions. It is hard work to let go of things - as I know from getting ready to move into a house 1/3 the size of our current home. It is even harder to get rid of years of cultural learnings about who is worthy of my attention, who can come to the table, who is a child of God - not as the world sees but as God sees. As the old musical South Pacific says "we have to be carefully taught" and we are.

I once took an anti-racism course where the teacher talked about the arrows that life throws at us about our worthiness - not measuring up - our minds, bodies and souls under attack - and we build up layers of self protection to make it through our days. The result is that each of us responds from under layers and layers of armor. We can't be open to one another as we hide from the risk of wounding.

Jesus invites us to take off our cloaks of protection and follow him - the one who is willing to be wounded for anyone and all. The blind man leaps at the chance - he knows the circumscribed life is no life. He flings off all that he has for the chance at LIFE.

Happy Halloween

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