First Tuesday in Advent

Isaiah 11:1-10; Psalm 72:1-8; Luke 10:21-24

When the seventy return with reports of miracles, Jesus exclaims: “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see!  For I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”  It is a blessing to see and hear signs of God at work.

And yet Isaiah promises a Messiah who will “not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear” (Isaiah 11:3).  Rather, judgment will flow from righteousness and equity.  It seems that what the Messiah needs is within rather than without.

Jesus rejoices that his disciples have seen and performed miracles, that they have seen what God can do.  But the deeper joy is to know ourselves in union with God, to know that “your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20).  The deeper promise is to find that part of us that knows God, knows the truth, knows love; and, finding it, to live from there.

This does not mean abandoning the world or retreating to private refuge.  Knowing God means seeing all that we are capable to doing to one another without losing sight of God.  We use our eyes and ears, but the reign of God works in the spaces in between and beneath what we see and hear in that way.  

I expect that when the seventy performed those miracles, many witnesses did not see miracles.  They explained them away as coincidence, or they denied or ignored them, because seeing them would complicate their lives.  Seeing as the seventy saw means letting the world be messy, bigger than my understanding.  It means hoping in the face of persistent reasons to despair, standing in the light of Christ without denying the reality of sin and death.  We do not see only through our eyes, we do not hear only through our ears; we see and hear through the stand we take and the choices we make about what is real and what matters.

What do you see and hear today?  

Monday, 1 Advent

Isaiah 4:2-6; Psalm 122; Matthew 8:5-13

“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem . . . For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, “Peace be within you.”  For the sake of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek your good.”

Not only for the sake of my relatives and friends, not for the sake of the house(s) of God, but for the sake of the world: for the sake of creation, the sake of the most vulnerable, the sake of the enslaved and oppressed and exploited; for the sake of those who hate me, and those who simply don’t care; for the sake of my soul that dies a little every time I seek war or conquest; for the sake of God who so longs for our return: for all these I will seek your good.  

I will seek your good, O Jerusalem; O Damascus; O Tehran; O Havana; O Moscow; O Washington.  I will seek your good, Caracas; and yours, Darfur, and Mogadishu.  I will seek your good, though you may not see it as good.  I will seek the real peace that comes with justice, with compassion, with conversion of hearts and minds.  I will pray for this peace, and I will seek it.

Jesus’ peace crosses the boundaries between Jew and Gentile, sinner and righteous, male and female.  Jesus brings peace to all who will receive it.  This is not simply “believing,” but willingness to be opened and to stand with Jesus, to dare to trust in the face of “good reasons” not to.  Prayer is a daring statement of trust.  Seeking peace is a statement of strong love, of bold and determined love.  

Pray for peace today.  

1st Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 2:1-5; Psalm 122; Romans 13:11-14; Matthew 24:36-44

I’m writing in the middle of an earthquake.  I suspect that most of our readers did not vote for Donald Trump, but even for those who did there is a seismic shift afoot in the U.S.  We know from psychologists that major changes are stressful whether they are “positive” or “negative,” whether it’s moving, a new job, losing a job, death, marriage, divorce - any big change is stressful and takes a long time to adjust.  So I think it’s safe to say I’m not alone in feeling unsettled and unsure about the future.

If you’re feeling that way, you’re in the right place - or the right time.  Advent begins with promises that can feel threatening.  We hear Isaiah’s prophecy of peace, but also Jesus’ warning that the coming of the Human One will not be sweet and easy.  We might see these as bookends.  Peace will come, but not without struggle and pain.  War will end, but we don’t know when.  

In between, we have this powerful encouragement from Paul, reminding us of how we are to live in the “in-between” times.  We are to stand firm, to renounce hatred and deceit, and to stand firm in the light.  Twice we are advised to “put on” what we need: we “put on the armor of light,” and we “put on the Lord Jesus Christ.”  In other places Paul fleshes out that advice: love, peace, joy, gentleness, patience, temperance, gratitude.  

“Winners,” “losers,” innocent bystanders, not-so-innocent spectators: now is the moment for you to wake from sleep.  Each day is a chance to look for the Coming One who brings the promise of God’s Dream.  We don’t need to know how to read the signs of the times to know what we need to do.  All times are the time for peace.

“Come, let us walk in the light of the LORD!”

What do you need to put on today?  Pray for the grace to do that.

We Are Everywhere.

We are Muslim.

We are refugees.

We are undocumented.

We are Black, and brown, and red, and yellow, and white.

We are queer.

We are hungry.

We are imprisoned because of our race.

We are experiencing homelessness.

We are victims of gun violence.

We are unemployed, or overworked.

We are victims of domestic violence.

We are victims of rape and sexual assault.

We are mothers left to raise children without support.

We are trying for a better life.

We are searching for God in the rubble.

We are Jesus.

Are you one of us?  Will you stand with us?

"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

Pastor Martin Niemoller

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Open Hands

Tonight we begin leading a retreat about and with Christ Sophia.  As I was praying this morning I wanted a picture of Christ Sophia.  I have electronic images, but the closest material image I have is this risen Christ card.  As I put it on my altar, I noticed the connection between Mary's open hands and Jesus' resurrected openness.  Where did he learn that openness, that posture of display and welcome?  How does his posture change how I see her openness?

These are not postures of submission.  These are postures of gentle strength, a strength that comes from being part of the great circuit of life.  These postures move beyond self to give and receive without resistance.  

We cannot give from a posture of weakness.  Women's forced diminishment (and that of so many others) harms not only individual women, but all those who might learn and grow and create with them.  But being strong does not mean arrogance or pride.  It means being open, knowing that we are up to the challenge, that God is with us, that we are surrounded by love and power.  

Mary, thank you.  Jesus, thank you.  Sophia, thank you.  Holy One, blessed are you.  Amen.

Mary, Mother of Wisdom

I'm spending a lot of time with this icon lately.  It is in our chapel, and we moved it to sit on the "altar" above the reserved sacrament.  We both felt a need to sit with Mary more.

During this period we've been working on the idea - the reality - of Christ Sophia, Jesus as the incarnate Wisdom of God.  This ancient, early idea was submerged in the Western Church for centuries, but it's returned.  It's crucially important for how we view God, and Christ, and ourselves.  And, in conjunction with this icon, it leads me to wild heretical thoughts.

In Proverbs, in Wisdom, in Sirach, and in Psalms we hear of Wisdom as "the first of God's creatures," present from the beginning, in whom God delighted.  I look at this icon, as Jesus' adoring gaze at his mother, and I see Wisdom delighting in her creator.  Mary is the mother of Jesus; if Jesus is Wisdom, Sophia, what does that make Mary?

Now, the Church "fathers" worked hard to mark off this territory, to say that Mary was just a vessel for the (masculine?) Holy Spirit.  Why, exactly, do we need to mark that boundary?  What happens if we stop defending the masculinity of God and let love show itself however it may?

The capacity to bring forth new life is miraculous.  It is a key element in our understanding of God.  If we let go into the love between Jesus and Mary, we see a sign into the love between our Source and humanity.

Mary, mother of God, mother of all, be with us.