My hope that this message of love’s generosity will be heard throughout the world and throughout all religions. This isn’t about competition but about sharing the possibility of God’s kingdom on earth. Strangely, the incident in Boston last Monday may just get us a tad closer.
There is an enormous amount of energy here in Boston, in Massachusetts, in New England--energy and pride. Everyone is the world has heard all the versions of Boston Strong, which the President reiterated it as well. But we in Boston don’t hold a monopoly on this--it’s all to give away. Love has no limit; it doesn’t run out or get used up.
My hope that this message of love’s generosity will be heard throughout the world and throughout all religions. This isn’t about competition but about sharing the possibility of God’s kingdom on earth. Strangely, the incident in Boston last Monday may just get us a tad closer.
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Holy Week has begun. Yesterday at church there were palms and the music was serious. Being a life-long Protestant, well…, nothing too heavy about the Cross for me. We were into the Resurrection, skipping right into Easter. That Protestant upbringing, along with my optimistic disposition, has kept me from going very deeply into the theology and dogma around suffering and the Cross. With that acknowledgment, where do I stand on the drama and events of this coming week? As I enjoy the evening sunlight on the water here at the cottage, I find it a challenge to even consider suffering, Jesus’ or anyone else’s. But I only have to glance at the names on my ‘top ten prayer list’ to be reminded: people involved in surgery and chemo; friends grieving for loved ones; individuals feeling alone, isolated and unloved; people agonizing over serious life decisions and relationship gone amiss. In suffering the humiliation, betrayal and pain of the Cross, Jesus experienced them all. But of course his story didn’t end, not with the crucifixion, not even with Easter. With the continual coming of the Holy Spirit it is a story without an ending. Clearly suffering doesn’t have the last word. View from the Angel Room this morning. The day we’ve all waited for is here. This Christmas we have no little people waking us. Strange? Certainly different from past years and from what the commercial world tells us our Christmas will be. I’m not sad or nostalgic; my memories are of gratitude. This Christmas morning I have time to sit here in my Angel Room and think about the long awaited Jesus in my life. All Christmas accessories have disappeared from mind as I ponder the familiar Gospel stories from Luke and Matthew. I don’t even need a Bible to tweak my memory; the words are deep within me. As I write this, God, Jesus, and Holy Spirit are resting in me, surrounding me, leading me,…. But today is Jesus’ special time and I feel his presence, that he is available to talk with me. Advent continues, this new beginning, a beginning that will begin again and again and again, and last forever. I am comforted as I remember Jesus words: “And surely, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” You doesn’t mean just me; it means you and you and you, everyone. So, I offer you, my readers whoever you are, a blessed Christmas, yes, a Merry Christmas. On my cottage by the sea blog today I wrote about the surfers enjoying the waves yesterday. Clearly, they owned the present moment. One in particular rode the waves for quite a while, before falling down. Without a doubt he was talented and experienced! Watching these men and women surf and fall brought to mind the story of Jesus walking on the water and Peter going out to meet him. When doubt overcame Peter, he began to sink, calling out to Jesus, “Lord, save me” (Matthew 14.30). The surfer, like Peter, had faith and experience in keeping upright, but then, perhaps through a combination of fear and circumstance, he began to sink. Oh, so like all of us humans. We can’t do it all by ourselves. Even when we try to live through faith, difficulties arise and we fall. In our best moments we call out for God’s saving help. One more thought. According to Matthew’s gospel, before joining his disciples on the boat, Jesus had fed the five thousand and then gone ‘up the mountain, by himself, to pray.’ Throughout the gospels, we are told of Jesus going off the pray. For me, that message always speaks to me. On a faithful day I think it helps me remember to call out. Last night in my living room I watched, no, I participated in the Interfaith Service from Newton, Connecticut. The service was initiated and planned by the local clergy association, and it was its members, the local religious leaders from the churches, temple and mosque in the town who offered prayers from their particular tradition. The only non-local participants were Newton First Selectwoman Patricia Llodra. Governor Dan Malloy of Connecticut, and the President of the United States, Barack Obama. It was a service of truth, brutal truth; and a service of filled with faith, hope, and charity. Today my friend continues to heal. Her husband blogs that she is smiling and ‘very grateful’. A few weeks ago I had written that ‘very grateful’ were my mom’s last words, and it seems that my friend has held onto them. It warms my heart that the wisdom and faith of a 101 year old woman is living on in someone half her age. ‘Very grateful.’ But there are others on ‘the list’, two others, in fact, who are having surgery today. My ‘surgery prayers’ extend to the doctors, nurses, lab technicians, and of course the valet attendants; each one holds intense energy in a hospital. Maybe that is where our prayer is most present, in creating the good, the God power in the moment. I’ve been praying with Paul Yancey’s question ever since I read it yesterday: “If a seeking person came to you and asked how your life as a Christian differs from a moral non-Christian, what would you tell her?” I’m just beginning to scratch the surface of what this might mean. “Hope,” comes to mind, but that’s not a sufficient answer. I know a fair share of moral non-Christians. In fact many of my friends and family fit that category, and I admit that I often fall right in with them, which is mighty easy in this secular world we live in. So, what happens when I am living my life as a Christian? At the moment I am aware of two differences. First of all, I act to fulfill God’s purpose, not to satisfy my ego. Secondly, my heart opens and I let go of judgments about what others ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’ do. My hope is that more and more I will be living with the Christian response-- God’s purpose manifested through an open heart. Annunciation, by Fra Angelico 1 don’t like to consider the idea of fear when I’m in the holiday season. I want to be in consistent joy. However, the Christmas and Christian message is a lot about dealing with fear. Mary must have felt some when Angel Gabriel visited; Joseph didn’t have an easy job on the way to Bethlehem; the wise men feared Herod—and we haven’t even gotten through the first two chapters of Luke. In the Gospels, though parable and action, Jesus helps us with ways to conquer fear. Our faith just doesn’t let us forget that in order to embrace the message of joy, we have to face pain--our own, that of those we know and love, and the of the world. We need to go through this fearful pain in order to come to the epiphany that we do not need to be afraid because God is with us. Jesus had to experience the Crucifixion before the Resurrection. So do we. “Oh, come oh come Emmanuel.” Luke 1.30 There’s no easy way to get away from Christmas nostalgia. Even if you turn off the radio so you don’t have to hear Bing sing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” or “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” one more time, memories of childhood Christmases pour in. Remember the time when you got just what you wanted? From my grandmother I remember the play soda fountain that I had starred four times in the F.A.O Schwarz catalog. Fortunately, my memory of the year when one of our sisters got the big gift is mighty dim and even brings a smile. But as Martin B. Copenhaver wrote today in “Still Speaking”, the Christian message is not one of nostalgia, but one of hope, for, yes, the best is yet to come. How comforting this is. Sure, I have wonderful Christmas memories, memories that fill my heart, memories never to be forgotten, memories that enrich my faith. But the Christmas message of the hope of things to come, of things not seen, transforms nostalgia into hope that will never end, no matter where we are on life’s journey. I saw this hope live in my mom right up until the end of her 101 years, and I believe it is with her now. God doesn’t leave us during this life, nor did God leave Mom when she took her last breath. Nothing nostalgic about that!! It’s hope that never dies. From “Still Speaking,” December 26, 2100, by Marten B. Copenhaver. dailydevotional@ucc.org “In either case, nostalgia is always suspect from a Christian point of view. That's because we affirm that the good old days--even when they really were good--are nothing compared to what God has in store for us. Even the triumphs and joys of the past will be surpassed by what is to come. That is the understanding that allows the Apostle Paul to testify: "This one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead."” |
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