This is my fifth Christmas season in this apartment. Hard to believe I've been here that long.
I've had the tinsel tree for four years. I moved it over this year, and I put out more of my St. Nicholas/Santa Claus collection--both around the tree and in the little room.
And here's the mantle with the Nativity collection. If you want a closer look at the individual nativities, you can find pictures in this post from a couple of years ago.
The red stocking is half of a pair I made for Brian's and my first Christmas in our apartment, which means it's 24 years old. The green one is about 12 years old or so, when I made new stockings for Mom, Bill, and me. There are six more down in Pennsylvania. I made one for each of my brother's children when they were born. When the youngest received his, my brother asked me to make ones for him and his wife.
I know. I know. On St. Patrick's Day here in the States everyone is Irish. As time goes by March 17 becomes less and less a religious observance, less and less a celebration of ethnic pride, and more and more an excuse for drinking and acting foolishly--a mid-Lent Mardis Gras, so to speak.
However, not everyone is welcome. ILGO, the Irish Lesbian and Gay Organization, is still denied a place in the New York City parade by its organizers, the Ancient Order of Hibernians (AOH). In order to keep ILGO out, the AOH continues to resort to the argument that the parade is primarily a religious observance, and since lesbians and gays are not welcome by the Roman Catholic Church, and the AOH is an organization primarily of Roman Catholics...
It's enough to make me want to wear orange in protest.
I am not, however, that naive. The color orange carries enormous political, social, and historical baggage in Irish Communities. The Loyal Orange Institution (or Order) is a staunch defender of a Protestant Northern Ireland as a part of Great Britain. Every year they insist on their right to march through Catholic neighborhoods, keeping the generations old bitterness alive.
I could legitimately wear orange. My Irish forebears were Presbyterians from Ballymena, County Antrim, in the north. My great-great-grandfather James Dick Blakley and his brother served in Irish regiments of the British Army. He even wrote a letter to the editor of the Westchester County Reporter (while he was living in Montreal, Quebec) proudly giving a history of the family's military history, including participation in the fight against the rebels during the Uprising of 1798.
But I know better, especially in New York City on St. Patrick's Day...
After I posted last night, I got involved in conversations with a couple of friends online. As a result, I didn't finish typing the sermon and making edits until about 1:00 a.m. Thankfully, there were no 3 a.m. messages from the Holy Spirit, so I got a good night's sleep. This morning I woke up just before the alarm clock went off at 8:00, so I had time to review the sermon one more time, eat some breakfast, get dressed, and arrive at church in time for the 9:00 presentation of the 2009 budget. I did make a few more minor edits. However, I had not planned for the snow. In fact, I didn't even know it was snowing until I opened the door to the back hallway to leave for church. Even after cleaning off the car and driving very slowly on slippery roads, I was not the last one to arrive for the budget meeting.
So here it is, this morning's sermon:
Second Sunday after Epiphany, Lectionary Year B: 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20); John 1:43-51
Loving God, you call us to be your stories in the world. We come before you seeking to be touched by your story. Open our lips to share our stories with one another and to bring comfort, inspiration, joy and laughter to each other. Amen.
The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 1 Samuel 3:1]
To hear many of our evangelical brothers and sisters tell it, the Lord speaks to them frequently, most often to chastise liberal Christians and an increasingly secular world. To most of the rest of us, however, it does seem as if God rarely speaks. Not too long ago the United Church of Christ, probably the most liberal of the mainstream Christian Denominations, released an advertising campaign which said “God is still speaking,”. Their purpose was to say that part of their response to God’s call as a denomination is to be welcoming absolutely everyone; that everyone has a place at the table.
Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli and said, “Here I am, for you called me. [3:4-5]
In a world where we do not often hear God speaking, we do not always recognize God’s voice. And if we do, our reaction may not always be what one might expect. Some us laugh, as Sarah did when the Lord told her and Abraham that she would have a son in her old age. Some of us try to ignore what we hear as Jonah did when God called him to go to Nineveh.
The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again”. [3:6]
When a call comes, we are not the only ones who have difficulty hearing it for what it is. We live in a culture—and often a church—that caused one comedian to comment, “Why is it that when we talk to God we’re praying, but when God talks to us we’re schizophrenic?”
The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. [3:8]
There are the times when those around us understand that God is calling us before we do ourselves. In a way, that’s what happened to Nathanael in today’s reading from John. Philip extended an invitation to Nathanael, who goes to see Jesus in spite of his reservations. As a result, Nathanael becomes one of Jesus’ disciples.
Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” [3:9]
If God is persistent, so is Samuel. He could have chalked the whole thing up to Eli’s old age, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. Once we do perceive that it is God calling us, we need to prepare to hear, not only from God, but from those around us in our faith communities as well. During Advent we prepare for the coming of Jesus, learning ways to open our lives for his message. During Epiphany many of our readings are about God’s call to different people, including Jesus.
Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said “Speak, for your servant is listening.” [3:10]
Opening himself to God, Samuel became a prophet. The Hebrew word used is nabi. Greek translators rendered it as prophetes, from which comes our word prophet. However, as W. F. Albright points out in From Stone Age to Christianity, the term is not restricted to our current understanding of the word prophet. “The origin of the word seems to have meant ‘one called to a task by god.’” Not just prophecy, but any task. “Samuel is called to be much more than prophet in the sense of oracle giver; he functions also as priest, and will become as well one part warrior, one part judge, and one part governor.”[1]
Then the Lord said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears tingle.” [3:11]
And God proceeded to do just that. God continues to do that through people recognized and unrecognized by us. One such person was the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King, Jr., commemorated by our nation this weekend and by the Episcopal Church on either January 15th, the anniversary of his birth, or April 4th, the anniversary of his death. Dr. King certainly stirred up our country and made a lot of ears tingle. Over the years he has been seen as an uppity black man, a trouble maker, a hero, and a prophet. He changed our nation and our world, and yet…
And yet…
Why is it that most congregations only drag out Lift Every Voice And Sing for Martin Luther King weekend and Black History Month?
Why is it that companies think one session of diversity training resolves all the issues in their workplace?
And how on earth can anyone believe that the election of an African-American man as President of the United States means that we as a nation have finally overcome racism?
When I asked a colleague at work these questions, she asked me, “How are you going to answer them?” My response was, and is, I can’t. I cannot answer them for you, for the Episcopal Church, for the United States, or for the world. I can, however, lift them before you both in response to God’s call and as a part of God’s call. My colleague also asked, not just of me, but of herself, What are the core values we can hold up for the coming days, weeks, and months? In our lives? And again, I cannot answer that question for anyone, but I can lift it before you both in response to God’s call and as a part of God’s call. Does that make me a prophet? Perhaps. While I do not perceive that as my call, there are those of my friends—and others—who tell me I am. It is a dangerous place to live, and like my friend who, when people around her tell her they perceive her call to be that of a prophet, puts her hands over her ears and says, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la,” I don’t want to go there. But I cannot let the questions go unasked.
Actually, there are times I also want to go “La, la, la, la, la, la, la” when I contemplate what I perceive to be my call to the ordained ministry. I don’t want to go there, but I cannot let the questions go unasked.
Are you hearing God speaking? Is there a call for you coming through? These probably aren’t questions to answer now. Neither are the ones I asked earlier. But they are questions we all need to consider, so if Advent is a time of preparation, and Epiphany is a time to hear stories about other peoples’ calls, then perhaps Lent may be a time to reflect on what we’ve been hearing. And Easter. And Pentecost. And next Advent. And, as I’ve said before, God is persistent.
You may, like me, feel that the call you’re experiencing is different from the call you’ve perceived. You may, like me, feel that your faith community is already answering its call in the world. For you, and for me, I have another question to raise up. Why do we think God only calls us once, or to only one task at a time? And if for you, as for me, the seed of a call germinates, seek out members of your faith community to form a discernment group. Remember that discernment is not just for those who perceive their call as one to ordained ministry. It is for anyone called to any task by God.
As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. [3:19-20]
God IS still speaking.
Let all God’s people say, “Amen!”
[1] Education for Ministry Year One: The Old Testament. de Bary, Edward Oscar, Ed. 3rd Edition. Sewanee, TN: The University of the South, 1999. p. 336.
Postscript:
If I'd had a laptop, an LCD projector, and a screen this morning--or stumbled across this earlier than last night (although my sermon was very different until last night)--I'd have played this after I finished speaking.
It's based on the UCC campaign I mentioned, but I can't find it on the UCC's God is still speaking, (yes, it ends with a comma) site.
Today is the day that I traditionally take down the Christmas decorations. I didn't have all that much to put away, just the tree and one nativity set.
Oh, yes, and put the bear's Christmas outfit away. Everything else got packed up during December's Great Water Disaster.
Why did I have even one Nativity out? Because it was a Christmas present from Mom. She bought it for me when the African Handcraft table visited our church.
This isn't the best picture of it, because you can't see some of the carved details. It was made in Kenya, and I believe it's carved from soapstone. There are a couple of interesting things about it. There are two Josephs and four Wise Men. I'm sure one of the Josephs is meant to be a shepherd, although it could be two shepherds and no Joseph. As for the Wise Men, Matthew never gives us a specific number. Three just happens to be a tradition that developed over the centuries. You have to look closely to see the fourth one, he's standing behind the Joseph closest to the Baby Jesus--it's not a shadow. It really is a beautiful set.
And here is a BBC video of the Three Kings Parade in Madrid Spain. Do I even want to know about the geese?
Amazing how much better things look on a sunny day! I'm taking a page (or is that a post?) from Elizabeth Kaeton and posting this for today:
And while I was searching for this on YouTube, I saw this interesting project:
Here's the blurb that accompanies the video:
Play your part in music history and join the YouTube Symphony Orchestra. You just need to upload two videos: your contribution to the Tan Dun piece and a general audition video. Good luck!
There's a whole section devoted to it here that includes a link for downloading the music and video master classes for each instrument. After sight reading through the Haydn yesterday, I'm tempted. I've looked at the flute part for the symphony and the flute master class video. One piece I could probably prepare, but two by the January 28th deadline...
The recommended pieces (choose one or two) for the general audition video are:
Bach: Sonata for Solo Flute in a minor, BWV 1013: Mvt. IV, Bouree Anglaise
Brahms: Symphony No. 4 in E Minor: Mvt. IV, bar 89-105
Mendelhssohn: Symphony 4 in A Major ("Italian"): Mvt. IV, Saltarello, bar 6-34
While I have been working on the Bach, I've been working on the first movement.
Note to self: See first video in this post. Work from there...
Another winter day, another snowstorm. At least I'm on vacation and don't have to travel in it.
Another New Year's Eve, the end of another year. I can't say this past year has been one of the more pleasant ones. I spent most of it on probation at work. Actually, a lot of employees at the Church Center spent time on probation this year. Is that a management problem or an employee problem? The transition has been rough, but hopefully, we're through the worst of it and moving into some real ministry work. Or maybe just further into a corporate structure. Occasionally, I wonder what would happen if we disbanded the Church Center.
This time of year is often bittersweet. Christmas, followed by the New Year, followed by my birthday. I usually find myself in a period of self-reflection, and if I'm in a particularly bad place, that self-reflection can spiral into depression. It doesn't have to, and I've learned to catch myself talking myself into a depression.
This video is of an ABBA song that is nearly 30 years old. It captures my mood pretty well, and it does have a hopeful note.
The coming year will be one of change. I'm not one to make New Year's Resolutions, as that just sets oneself up for failure. But there will be changes. Hopefully, most of the changes will be positive and/or constructive--personally and professionally.
Vigil of All Saints/Halloween Chapel of Christ the Lord, Episcopal Church Center, New York, NY Luke 14:1-6
The last time Miguelina asked me to preach, I got sick, so last week I started taking extra doses of Vitamin C. When she invited me to preach today, we both commented on the irony and the appropriateness of the staff person for Children’s Formation preaching on Halloween.
I grew up unchurched, for many reasons that aren’t particularly important here. Halloween was always a big deal. We planned for weeks ahead of time, because we always made our own costumes. There was no discussion in our house, or our neighborhood for that matter, about the origins of these customs or the appropriateness of participating in them. It was simply a time to dress up and run around the neighborhood collecting candy.
Flash forward a few years, when I had just started putting my foot back into church, and we started learning about the pre-Christian roots of All Hallows’ Eve and how the Celts believed that at this time of year—their festival of Samhain—is one when the borders that separate our world from those of the faerie and the dead become very thin. We also began seeing the pattern of how the Christian hierarchy renamed and took over many pre-Christian celebrations to aid the spread of their faith. And so Samhain and All Hallows’ Eve became All Saints Day and All Souls Day.
A handful of years later, after coming back to the Episcopal Church, and every year since then, this season brings conversations about the secular culture’s commercialization of Halloween and discussions about whether or not we should be promoting participation in what is essentially a non-Christian festival.
So when the question finally comes around, “Does dressing up and going trick-or-treating endanger our children spiritually?” My reply is often, “Does bringing an evergreen tree into the house around the beginning of Winter and decorating it endanger our children spiritually?” That usually brings the conversation up short.
Ultimately, however, we should be listening to our children. Children are innately spiritual, and children are not stupid. As they leave the shelter of the family home and enter into the neighborhood, the community, and the world, they see and hear things. We cannot shelter them forever. And they will ask questions. It is their questions we should be listening to and discussing. And frequently, as Jesus does in today’s Gospel reading, the best way to answer a question is to pose another question.
So today, my question to all of us is: Do we teach our children to be rigid like the Pharisees, or do we teach them to follow Jesus?
This has been sticking in my craw for some time. And, some of you know how I get when something sticks in my craw.
I was not happy with the Memorial Day Celebration. Oh, I threw in some Patriotic hymns and prayers for our nation and one for 'heroic service', but they rang shallow for me, given all that is going on in the world - and in our country - right now.
So, I spent part of my holiday weekend making sure that the next Patriotic Holiday - July 4th - provides us some lessons in history.
Yes, I could preach on it, but I don't think I could be more eloquent than some of language of our historical documents.
So, inspired by one of my brothers, Ernest Cockrill, from El Camino Real, I decided to develop a sort of "Lessons and Hymns" with Eucharist for July 4th.
On the surface, it looks like a long service, but I wish to point out two things: (1) Most of the hymns are 1 - 3 verses long (or, short, actually, for an Episcopal service) and (2) there is no sermon, per se ;~)
All of the prayers come from the Book of Common Prayer. All of the historical quotes are, as near as I can figure, accurate.
So, tell me what you think. I trust your honesty.
PS - Please feel free to "steal, "borrow" or adapt this for your congregation, as you deem appropriate. Appropriate attribution will be deeply appreciated.
And that's exactly what Lois did, with a few changes inspired by conversations on the House of Bishops and Deputies listserv. You can see the service we did at Grace Church this morning on our Sermons blog.
This service is a mini history lesson for all of us. How many of us have actually read any of the Mayflower Compact? Abagail Adams' letter, or Sojourner Truth's speech, both of which brought some laughter to the congregation, are also little known. Enmegahbowh? Even if we were to believe the melting pot myth, our history consists of the stories of so many more people than a bunch of white men sitting in Philadelphia or Washington, DC.
And the music... Even when we disagree with what our government is doing, or the direction the nation seems to be taking, there is something about "The Star Spangled Banner" that brings a lump to our throats (even if the tune is an old drinking song!). And I can't hear "We Gather Together" without thinking about our Thanksgiving assemblies at my first grade school (before separation of church and state became such a hard and fast line).
This was the most meaningful church celebration of Independence Day I have ever experienced. Thank you Elizabeth, Lois, and everyone who contributed.
It was (and is) a beautiful day, if a bit windy. The sun shone, and the temperatures were mild. I had the day off, since it's Good Friday, and I do work for a church organization. I did some chores, ran some errands, and then spent a good portion of the afternoon at one of the nearby Barnes & Noble bookstores having a couple of diet sodas and reading. This evening I will attend services at my parish church.
Throughout the day I watched people going about their business and leisure activities. The mail was delivered. Meals were served and eaten. Shopping was done. Gas was pumped. Houses were swept. Yards were raked. Friends were met and chatted with. Pick-up soccer games were played. Just another day in lower Fairfield County.
But it's Good Friday! The most somber day in the Christian Calendar! The world should be in mourning! We should be remembering and reflecting upon the momentous day that took place some 2,000 years ago.
Then it occurred to me that the day Jesus was crucified would have been similar to this. For the most part, people in Judea, and even most people in Jerusalem, would have been going about their ordinary lives: shopping, cleaning houses, meeting friends, playing games, and preparing for Passover. Yes, there would have been a crowd gathered for the trial and the execution, and perhaps a bit of one along the route to Golgotha. Most people, however, would not have been concerned about the execution of the leader of a small movement in a tiny corner of a vast empire.
But, but, but! I can hear you saying. It's one of the most important events in world history! How could people be so unaware? The Gospels tell us of earthquakes, eclipses, the tearing of the temple curtain. This was a tremendous happening!
It was a tremendous happening, for Jesus' followers at the time. For most of the crowd it was Friday afternoon entertainment, as executions often were. It was one of the most important events in history according to the Gospel writers. But they were not eyewitnesses, and they were writing to tell the story as an important event for the world. It is an important story for us, because we have been raised as Chirstians in a Christian culture--and don't kid yourselves, as secularized as our culture may have become, it still carries major Christian influences! For the rest of the world 2,000 years ago, and for growing numbers of people today, today was and is just another day.
That is one of the many contradictions of this day. The execution of one seemingly insignificant leader of one of many movements plaguing the Roman Empire in the supposedly backwater province of Judea became the salvation event for millions of people.
Today was one of the rare years where Epiphany actually falls on Sunday. At church we had the "Three Kings" bearing gifts in the processional, the postponed Christmas Pageant with Sound Effects, and two baptisms. All in all it was a joyous occasion.
As we went through the service, starting with the reading of the Collect, I could not help but be reminded of the small brouhaha over Katharine's choice of a Christmas card. Here is the Collect for Epiphany, Contemporary version from the 1979 BCP of the Episcopal Church:
O God, by the leading of a star you manifested your only Son to the peoples of the earth: Lead us, who know you now by faith, to your presence, where we may see your glory face to face; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
No mention of manifesting God's only Son to only three men, be they wise men, kings, astrologers, or whatever. And for those who find the 1979 BCP to be a departure from the "classic" BCP, here is the collect from the 1928 BCP of the Episcopal Church:
O God, who by the leading of a star didst manifest thy only-begotten Son to the Gentiles: Mercifully grant, that we, which know thee now by faith, may after this life have the fruition of thy glorious Godhead; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Nope, no mention of the manifestation being just to men there, either. But let's take a look at the 1662 BCP, which seems to be the favorite of those who wrote the first draft of the proposed Anglican Covenant. Oops, identical to the 1928 version. Just to be safe, why not check out the very first BCP, which appeared in 1549 and contains Cranmer's original Collects:
O GOD, which by the leading of a starre diddest manifest thy onelye begotten sonne to the Gentiles; Mercifully graunt, that we, which know thee now by faith, may after this life have the fruicion of thy glorious Godhead; through Christe our Lorde.
Interesting. Except for some archaic spelling and a missing "Amen," it looks like the same collect to me. Hmmmm..."diddest manifest they onelye begotten sonne to the Gentiles." No mention of it being just three men from outside of Judea. I may not be the most educated theologian in the world, but I do know that the Collect, in whatever version you choose, makes an interpretation of the Biblical text, because Matthew specifically mentions "wise men," not "the Gentiles:"
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. (Matthew 2:1-12, NRSV)
The Collect interprets the visit of the wise men as a sign that Jesus came for the Gentiles as well as the Jews.
Now look at the passage again. Something struck me as our priest read the Gospel this morning. Do you see it? Or more specifically, do you see what isn't there? What I do not see is a clear enumeration of how many wise men came. We assume three because there were three gifts, but there could have been two or twenty for all we know. In other words, our traditions have interpreted the story as being about three wise men, and many of our visual interpretations of the Nativity depict one of the three as being black, in spite of the fact that Africa is WEST of Judea.
Matthew does not give us any specific place from which these wise men traveled; the Gospel says only that "wise men from the East came to Jerusalem." There is a whole lot of world east of Jerusalem. The wise men might could have come from the Indian subcontinent, China, or even the Americas. So the "multicultural" part of Greg Griffith's jibe is pretty silly. What really irks him, and many of the so-called "orthodox" folks is that the card depicted wise women. The Standing Committee of the Diocese of Fort Worth was not specific about their objections to the card, but given the diocese's stand on women's ordination, we can guess that it probably also had to do with the depiction of wise women.
Even if we stick strictly to Matthew's telling of the story of the "wise men," there is plenty of leeway for interpretation, midrash, and storytelling. When we consider both Gospel accounts of the Nativity, there is space to imagine women--even wise women--visiting Jesus in Bethlehem. There is space to imagine people just like us--ALL OF US--visiting God's Son in the stable in Bethlehem.
Back on December 21 I ran across a post by Greg Griffith on StandFirm lambasting the Presiding Bishop's choice of a Christmas card for this year. I wrote some of my own thoughts later that same day. At the time I wondered who the "at least one bishop" Greg referred to was. It looks like we have at least one possible answer: Jack Iker, the Bishop of Forth Worth.
Checking out my usual round of blogs this morning, I ran across this post by Susan Russell. Shortly after that an email from one of my listservs had a link to yesterday's post by Katie Sherrod. Both contain the text of a letter sent to the clergy and 2007 convention delegates of the Diocese of Fort Worth by the diocesan Standing Committee. The first paragraph reads:
The members of your Standing Committee thought you should be aware of this. The Presiding Bishop has done something which defies explanation. This is the Christmas card she sent to Bishop Iker and presumably other TEC bishops. Given the increasing polarization in TEC (and the Anglican Communion) today, the only reason we can see for her to make this choice is that she is only interested in pushing the polarization just that much further.
Hmmmmm....The only reason for her choice is "pushing the polarization just that much further?" And here I thought Katharine's card was a nice way of further exploring the Story and what it means to us. "At least one bishop" showed the card to Greg Griffith. Evidently, the StandFirm lambasting did not stir up enough of a reaction, so now we have Bishop Iker showing the card to his Standing Commission. So who is it that is trying to "[push] the polarization just that much further?"
Obviously, this is a case of "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again."
As the last hours of 2007 slip by, I find myself in a reflective mood. This happens often at the turn of the year, as my birthday quickly follows the New Year. I can easily talk myself into a depression thinking about all the "might have beens." Not this year. There are too many positive and hopeful things to think about as I approach my birthday.
One of them is the example of my high school classmate Allan Karl who is travelling around the world on his motorcycle. You can find take a look at his adventures by clicking on the Worldrider link to the right. After not having visited the blog for a couple of weeks, I checked in yesterday and was amazed to find him in Africa. I spent over an hour catching up with his travelogue. I do not particularly want to travel the world on a motorcycle, a bicycle, on foot, or any other way other than plane, train and ship, but if he can do that in his mid-forties, then I can certainly work toward doing some of the things on my "list." Hmmmm...that sounds like a New Year's Resolution.
I rarely make New Year's Resolutions. I have ever only kept one successfully in my life. When I was in eighth grade I resolved to stop biting my fingernails. I spent a lot of time sitting on my hands for the next three months, but I kept that resolution. And this year I must make a resolution and keep it, since my continued good health depends upon it.
So at the moment, I am looking at 2008 and feeling pretty optimistic. Here's to hoping it stays that way.
I don't send very many Christmas cards, but I do have a few friends that I like to send cards to. I try to find ones with religious themes. It is very difficult to find cards of the Nativity that do not portray Mary and Jesus as white, complete with blond hair and blue eyes. That goes for Joseph, shepherds, angels, and even the Wise Men. I finally settled on cards that depicted the Nativity in a "blue delft" silhouette. What I should have done was gone to the web site listed on the cards sent out by the Presiding Bishop this year and last year (http://www.bridgebuilding.com/index.htm).
Last year's card, shown to the right, shows three shepherds in distinctly Andean costume. I liked so much that I kept it. It is on the mantelpiece with my Nativities. It blends in nicely with the Peruvian Mother and Child with the two angels. I also like the way the baby Jesus is shown cuddled up with a lamb. I appreciate pictures that show the characters of the Nativity in different ways. One of my friends is an artist, and most years his Christmas cards are a "Joseph and Child." My favorite shows a laughing father and son at play.
This year's card from the Presiding Bishop, shown below, was even more thought provoking. It depicts three women visiting a mother and child. The child, sleeping on his mother's lap, looks to be about two--which fits the story of the wise men and the massacre of the innocents told in Matthew. The folks at StandFirm have taken exception to Katharine's and Richard's choice of the card. Greg Griffith, who posted the item, seems offended not only by the fact that the Magi are depicted as women, but also that the artwork is multicultural.
Greg's reaction to the multicultural aspect is a bit puzzling, since the Magi have traditionally been depicted multiculturally--one of them is usually a black African. More than that, they were the only non-Judeans recorded as visiting Jesus and his family during their time in Bethlehem. Again, many traditional interpretations point to the visit of the Wise Men as recognition of Jesus as the Savior by Gentiles. The message is that Jesus came for ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE. There is nothing wrong with engaging in artistic interpretation to reinforce that message. The more we can visualize ourselves as part of The Story, the more integral it becomes in our lives.
This is particularly important when we remember that most of the world's Christians are, in fact, not Caucasian. When the missionaries went out with the colonizing armies, they took with them the predominant image of Jesus as a white man. This makes sense because European Christians depicted Jesus as a man, and as a child, like themselves--white. In spite of the fact that Jesus was definitely not white, the white Jesus remains the predominant image around the world. If the message is that Jesus became human, became one of us, then depicting him like ourselves, whatever our race or color, is one way to hold onto and understand more deeply that truth. If, on the other hand, the Bible is to be taken literally, then all depictions of Jesus, and his family, should show them as Semitic people. But even that image is jarring for "traditionalists" raised with pictures of a white Jesus and all white (except for that single Magi "of color") Nativities. So perhaps Greg would have preferred that Katharine and Richard selected something like the card shown at left.
As for depicting the Magi as women, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were in Bethlehem for a long time. They would have had many visitors, not just the handful documented in the Gospels. Who is to say that the three Wise Men in Matthew were the only ones to see the star, mark its importance, and make the journey to Bethlehem?
Quite frankly, the whole Nativity is layered in tradition and folklore, stories of everyday people who find the Christ child and his parents in the manger. Menotti's opera Amahl And The Night Visitors is just one example that comes to mind. Some of those everyday people would have been women. Some of those women would even have been Wise Women. So as we tell the story of Jesus and depict his life in our art, including images of people like us, no matter what race or gender, it only makes the story richer and more relevant to us and our lives. After all, isn't that the reason for season?
Last evening I pulled the Christmas boxes down from their shelf in my back closet and put up my small tree and the Nativity scenes. I also went shopping earlier in the day and bought a new tablecloth at Home Goods, along with a runner and napkins. Here's what the table looks like:
The stack of file drawers that served as a place to put the tree last year went to Goodwill, so I had to find a different place. The nice thing about having a small tree is that it fits in many different places. Here is this year's:
You can see a corner of the mantelpiece on the left. The room with the table is just past the bookshelves on the left. Here is a close-up of the tree:
My collection of Nativity scenes and figures is mostly on the mantelpiece, except for one that is sitting on the dining room table. I've been introduced to Picasa, and it seemed like an ideal way to show you the collection. So here's the slide show:
When Brian and I were together he would usually take vacation at the beginning of December and go someplace warm. Most of the time, I was not able to get away at that time. Since Saint Nicholas Day usually fell during his vacation, I would pick a weekend afternoon and invite my friends to at tree-trimming Saint Nicholas celebration. I began celebrating Saint Nicholas Day in college, when the German Club would celebrate the festival every year. Even though Brian and I are no longer together, I have kept the tradition of putting up the tree and decorating the house on or near Saint Nicholas Day.
In my current apartment I have a small tinsel tree that I put up. Small being the key word when one lives in 450 square feet. For a number of years I would get a small live tree in a pot, which then would often be put out in the yard. Once I started going to Pennsylvania to spend Christmas with my brother, however, I lost a couple of them due to lack of water. The first year I lived in this apartment I had no tree at all but found I missed having one, even though I decorated the apartment. Two collections also vie for space when I decorate. One is various Saint Nicholas and Santa Claus figures, and the other consists of creches, nativity scenes, and nacimientos (really three different terms for the same thing) from around the world. Many of them were given to me by friends, and some of them I collected on my travels. Sometimes it seems like overkill, but I love to look at them and remember who gave them to me, or the trips during which I bought them. My parents gave me my very first nativity set--white ceramic with just Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus--when I was in college.
When my brother and I were little, Honey and Grandad, our maternal grandparents, would give us each an ornament every year. Our boxes would be brought out on Christmas Eve, and before going to bed, we would hang the ornaments around the living room. Christmas morning all of them would be on the tree that Santa set up when he came that night. When we outgrew Santa Claus, we would hang our own ornaments on the tree when the family set it up. For a number of years the family would exchange ornaments on that day. We no longer do, mostly because Mom and I each have more ornaments than we use on any given year. My brother and his wife still give their kids ornaments every year, so each of them, like my brother and me before them, will have ornaments of their own when they set out on their own.
Deciding when to put up the tree always resulted in a "discussion" once Scott and I were old enough and Santa Claus no longer brought the tree. My mother's family tended to put their tree up the day after Thanksgiving; my father's on Christmas Eve. Until my father died, it was rare that the tree was up more than a week before Christmas. When Brian and I were together the discussion was about what color lights. My family always had blue lights; his multi-colored ones. We compromised with white. After we separated, and I lived again with Mom for a few years, we put both blue and white lights on the tree, so some nights we lit the blue ones, some nights the white ones, and some nights both.
When we were kids, no matter when the tree was put up, my parents would pick a weekend in the middle of December to decorate the house. That included baking Christmas cookies. The highlight of that day was unpacking and setting up the creche. The rough wooden stable and ceramic figurines dated to my parents' first Christmas together. Once the stable was set up on its fabric "field," my father would hand my brother and I, in turn, a wrapped figure from the box. We would unwrap it and carry it carefully to Mom, who would place each one in the creche. It was a big deal to us who got the Baby Jesus to unwrap!
It is interesting to look back and see how our Christmas traditions have evolved over the years, with each family doing things a bit differently. But no matter how we celebrate those traditions, we have memories and stories that are shared every year. The traditions and the stories connect us as a family. So tomorrow, after I clean the apartment, I will unpack my Christmas boxes and remember the traditions and stories as I decorate.
Last Sunday I wrote about plunging into the "holiday season," and how difficult it is to find the quiet to engage in Advent. Obviously, my body decided otherwise. This morning I woke up to find that the cold I have been fighting off since returning from the Dominican Republic had finally settled into a head cold. As a result, I spent most of the day in bed and did not even get to church. Of course, I was not totally without church. I checked Elizabeth Kaeton's Telling Secrets to read her sermon for today. As always, Elizabeth's sermon provided lots of food for thought.
And a day in bed provided lots of time for reflection. I found myself thinking about Advent, Christmas, and the furor they provoke. Calls for boycotts of stores where employees do not wish customers "Merry Christmas," or of those where "Happy Holidays" is the norm. Sermons and blogs about the "true meaning" of the season, as well as those on how to keep a "Holy Advent." Sometimes I am not sure which is worse, the rampant commercialism and consumerism or the strident sermonizing against them. Since most of our treasured Christmas traditions predate the celebrations of "Christ's Mass," and Christians appropriated the Solstice Holiday rather late in the game, one wonders how "true" any of it is anyway.
As for the stress of the season, churches are as responsible for it as the merchants. Holiday bazaars, Advent and Christmas Pageant, extra services, choir rehearsals only slightly less in number than those leading up to Easter, charity baskets, gift drives, and, and and... Enough already!
The dark days surrounding the Winter Solstice have prompted celebrations and gift giving for generations beyond historical memories. We can enjoy those aspects of the holiday, in whatever form we celebrate it, without letting ourselves get totally caught up in the frenzy. I will wish my Jewish Friends "Happy Hanukkah" and my pagan ones "Blessed Yule." When I decorate the house, I will display my creche collection complete with its baby Jesuses before Christmas and the Wise Men before Epiphany. I will go to parties. I will finish buying presents for family and friends. I will find my quiet time when I need it, and not when someone else says I should be having it. I will play Christmas music. I will not let the Advent Police dictate when and how I enjoy the traditions and celebrations of the season.
Now if you will excuse me, I feel the urge to go bake gingerbread for Thursday.
Thanksgiving has passed, and we are now fully into the Holiday Frenzy. We embraced the frenzy fully on "Black Friday" when my brother and I took his family into New York City to see some of the sights, have dinner, and see 9:00 p.m. showing of the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. I generally try to avoid the City the day after Thanksgiving, but this was one of the few times the whole family was here, and my brother really wanted to make the trip and see the show with his wife and kids. We had a good time.
Saturday we celebrated my mother's birthday early, which was the whole point of this family reunion. I would say "just a quiet dinner at home," but that just is not possible with four kids ranging in age from 9 to 19 and my brother and me. Two generations of sibling bantering--not to mention three generations of parent-child bantering. And, of course, we took some family pictures, including a couple of just me and my brother. After 45 years, now that I've lost enough hair to match his hairline and his hair has become as gray as mine, we finally look like brothers.
Late Saturday afternoon they left to return to Pennsylvania. Mom and Bill can reclaim their house, and I have my apartment back. The two youngest slept on air mattresses on my floor, which makes things pretty crowded in a 450 square foot apartment. Especially with the 14-year-old being taller than everyone in the family! Fortunately, we did not spend a lot of time there. When we were not sleeping we played Carcassonne together, or the youngest played computer games while the 14-year-old and I did crossword puzzles. Then we would pile into the car and drive over to Mom's.
I have completed about half of my Christmas shopping, but only because I bought some things while on my various trips around and out of the country. That does not mean I will have a calm prayerful Advent, however. Work promises to be especially stressful over the next few months, between various ongoing projects, a major conference, and the reorganization. I have some projects for church to work on. The first big cluster of family birthdays falls around this time. And I have friends that need my attention.
Generally, this means that, no matter how intentionally I start out, Advent is over before I have a chance to breathe and sit quietly. Sometimes, if I am lucky, God sneaks up on me, and I have a few quiet moments of calm in the midst of the frenzy.
I am enjoying the last few minutes of calm before Thanksgiving weekend. The shopping is done. The laundry is half done. The apartment is clean. In a short bit I will go to Mom's for dinner, and we will await the arrival of my brother and his family.
This will be the first holiday we have all been together in about three years, and it will be the first time my brother's entire family will be up here for a visit in many years. I decided that we ought to make the effort to all be together this year, as Mom's 70th birthday is just after the holiday. No big fuss, which Mom would hate, but some time together. Things sort of spiraled from that decision. You can read some of Mom's thoughts here. Fortunately, given the number of people involved, my stepsister is hosting Thanksgiving dinner.
There was some talk of going into the City Friday morning. I put a stop to that right off. New York City the day after Thanksgiving? Are you nuts? With three teenagers and a nine-year-old?
And I don't even want to begin thinking about Christmas!!
I've had the tinsel tree for four years. I moved it over this year, and I put out more of my St. Nicholas/Santa Claus collection--both around the tree and in the little room.
And here's the mantle with the Nativity collection. If you want a closer look at the individual nativities, you can find pictures in this post from a couple of years ago.
This isn't the best picture of it, because you can't see some of the carved details. It was made in Kenya, and I believe it's carved from soapstone. There are a couple of interesting things about it. There are two Josephs and four Wise Men. I'm sure one of the Josephs is meant to be a shepherd, although it could be two shepherds and no Joseph. As for the Wise Men, Matthew never gives us a specific number. Three just happens to be a tradition that developed over the centuries. You have to look closely to see the fourth one, he's standing behind the Joseph closest to the Baby Jesus--it's not a shadow. It really is a beautiful set.
