The Mainline Minister

"Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!" So said the heavenly host that joined the angel who shared the news of Jesus' birth with the shepherds.  On this Christmas, let us join with these celestial citizens and with all Creation in praising the One who came to live with us that we might live anew.  Gloria!

So, when exactly, does the last day of Advent end and Christmas Eve begin?  At our church, one could argue 5:00 pm, when the Children's Pageant service begins.  But maybe it will be at 10:00 am, when I begin streaming the Lessons and Carols Service from King's Chapel in Cambridge, England.  Marking out a hard and fast delineation isn't as easy at it seems; one just seems to morph into the other.  That seems especially appropriate on this day when the Kingdom of God manifests itself in our lived reality in the person of an infant.  One realm doesn't displace the other.  Instead, the holy permeates the mundane, subtly yet powerfully recasting everything.  The border between Advent and Christmas is porous, one leading seamlessly into the other.  So, perhaps we shouldn't ask when Christmas Eve begins but how it will unfold, what it will change, and how we will respond. 

We're almost there.  But where is there?  Is it the end or the beginning?  Is it a destination or a way station?  How we experience the conclusion of Advent informs how we'll experience Christmas.  How has this season of watching and waiting, preparing and praying, been for you?  Are you exhausted or exhilarated? Anxious or amped up?  Are you ready to stumble across the finish line or do you have a second wind that will carry you through to Epiphany and beyond? On this last ordinary day of Advent I invite you to join me in reflecting and praying on these questions.  Doing so, I believe, will ground us as we enter into the miracle of Christmas.

With the winter solstice now behind us, the days will grown longer, the nights shorter.  It's a timely seasonal corner for us to have turned for with the imminent birth of Jesus, all of Creation will head in a new, welcome direction, one in which the light prevails over darkness.  Sometimes, though, it's hard to see that anything is different.  In the coming weeks, the sun will still set early, and there will be times when winter's hold on us will seem unshakeable.  So too in the life of faith, there may be moments when we wonder if hope has any chance against despair, if love can every possibly triumph over hate.  Don't lose heart!  For Christmas will come this week, spring will return in due course, life will be renewed - and the loving, gracious, reconciling God who comes as an infant will triumph.  Will light will overcome darkness? You can count on it - for we've turned the corner!

Today is the winter solstice and, appropriately enough, snow is falling as I type these words.  For many, this is a season of great joy, a time for merriment and rejoicing, partying and song.  And why not?  The whole reason for the Yuletide season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.  But as we do so, we should remember that he has blessed those who mourn, that he has cast his lot with the broken and the brokenhearted.  It's not just "okay" to feel blue; it can be faithful.  So on this day of the longest night, if you feel down, if you have an ache in your heart that won't abate, hold fast to God and God's love.  For this is the reason He is coming: to heal us, to make us whole again, to save us.

I'm still trying to come to grips with the fact that it wasn't until about 11:30 this morning that I noticed the sky was blue and the sun was shining; it's as if the clouds and gray skies had been with us so long that I'd lost the ability to recognize anything different.  Something like this can happen with Jesus.  Even after he arrives, we can be so conditioned to life without him that we go on as if nothing has changed.  But of course with his arrival, everything changes.   Advent affords us the opportunity to prepare ourselves for the great disruption that comes with the Christ child; it provides us the space we need to ready ourselves to see that the clouds have parted and the brilliant light of God's love is shining bright upon us, bathing us in our maker's life-giving grace.

On this last Friday of Advent before Christmas I invite you to join me in a devotional exercise.  Think of three people - one with whom you're close, one from whom you're estranged or with whom you're angry, and someone you've never met - and pray for them.

Astute readers of these reflections noticed a typo in yesterday's offering - I referred to manifestations of angles, rather than angels.  But that got me to thinking of the geometry of Advent.  You may remember that there are different kinds of angles.  Some are obtuse, others acute.  We tend to think of ourselves as being the latter - perceptive, discerning, wise.  But Advent encourages humility.  As we watch and wait, we would do well to think of ourselves as being a bit obtuse, at least spiritually.  By doing so, we acknowledge that we need to be that much more determined, that much more focused, if we are to be receptive to the Spirit of the Lord, which bids us to make ready for the Christ child this season.  So take a moment, do the math, and pray.  With God on our side, everything will add up in the end.

Earlier this morning I sat in the sanctuary.  I could hear the rain falling on the roof and the sounds of cars cruising on slickened roads by the church.  There I was, surrounded by silence, yet acutely aware of the world around me.  At once I felt alone, apart from everything, and yet intimately part of the wider world.  It was a still moment, the kind that I seek out, but never experience unless I relinquish control of the moment and let the Holy Spirit guide me.  There were theophanies, no manifestations of angles.  Just the children's nativity set before me with all it represents and a feeling that, if only for a moment, I had actually slowed down, been quiet, and lived into the promise and call of Advent.

Can you believe it?  Christmas is in just nine days.  Odds are, Joseph and Mary are packing their bags, getting ready to hit the road for Bethlehem for the census.  Do you think they were organized?  Or did they rush about, trying to get everything in order at the last minute?  They were people, just like you and me, who enjoyed or loathed travel, who were homebodies or adventurers, who lived, laughed, cried, yelled, loved.  Take a moment and imagine Mary and Joseph as they prepare for their journey.  Then offer a prayer for travelers, reluctant and enthusiastic alike, everywhere.

Today begins the last full work week of Advent.  Perhaps you have a to-do list at home or the office.  As you think of what needs to be done in the coming days you might consider an Advent to-do list.  Keep it simple: pray, rest, reflect.  Imagine how good you'll feel as you check off each of these items!

Day of rest?  Are you kidding?  With worship, caroling, plays, tree trimming, house cleaning, and who-knows-what-elsing that needs to be done? Rest?  When?  Maybe after Christmas? Perhaps.  But maybe that's okay, for one can observe sabbath without resting - here's how: recall that on the seventh day, when God rested from his creative labors, he blessed and hallowed his work.  We, too, in all our busyness and toing and froing can seek to make holy our various endeavors.  We can take a moment to pray, to give thanks, to reflect.  And in doing this, we will not only recognize in the seemingly mundane the wondrously holy, we will re-examine our priorities and find time to rest. Because the odds are that the who-knows-what-elsing that needs to be done can be done tomorrow.

I really meant to send this out this morning at about 7:30.  But that was then and this is now - about 2:30 in the afternoon.  One thing after another arose today.  Bim bam boom.  More than half the day gone, just like that, in the blink of an eye.  And not just half a day - but half of Advent, too!  It seems like we only just began this seasonal journey but now we're beginning to close in on Christmas.  Perspectives, priorities are changing.  Can you feel it?  What does it mean for you spiritually?  Are you comforted or unnerved - or both?  Questions to ponder and pray upon this Advent Saturday afternoon ...

The New York Times carried a story this morning about Pope Francis' observation to a distraught child who wondered if there was a place for heaven for his deceased dog.  Not surprisingly, the Pontiff who took the name of the patron saint of animals offered assurance that there was indeed a place in paradise for pets. Francis' ruminations were not meant to be a doctrinal pronunciation but a pastoral word.  Still, his comments energized the long-running debate about whether animals have souls.  Ultimately, we don't know.  But given we're in a season preparing for the arrival of the Almighty in the form a mewling infant, I wouldn't put it past God to bless creatures others than humans with a soul.  After all, dogs and cats, lions and tigers and bears (oh my!), and all sorts of creatures great and small, cute and cuddly, ugly and ornery, are all fashioned by the hand of God, and thus good, blessed beings to be treasured, celebrated, and cared for.

It's hard to believe, but we're almost halfway through Advent.  How are your preparations coming?  How is the watching and waiting going?  Are you feeling ready for Christmas?  What about the arrival of the Christ child?  If you're like me, the answer to all of these questions is less than satisfactory.  You're feeling rushed, hurried, as if time is running away from you.  It's enough to make one want to give up in frustration.   But I wont', I don't, I can't.  There's still time.  Maybe I'll fail to do all that needs to be done but I can still try.  God, after all, isn't looking for perfect people but willing pilgrims.  I'll never be the former but I know that I can try to be the latter.

This is the kind of day I suspect Rosetti had in mind when writing that famous carol.  It's gray, wet, cold.  The streets are filled with slush and ice.  Drear comes to mind.  My spirit sags, there is no song in my heart.  Bleak, indeed. Yet it is into the midst of this gloom that the light of Christ will break forth, warming and illuminating all.  That, at least, is the promise.  For the hope to be fulfilled, the vision become reality, we must prepare through prayer, devotion, reflection.  We must will aside the shadows, make room for the child to be present.  Sometimes, that can seem too hard to do and muddling on with our unsatisfactory circumstances appears to be the lest difficult way forward.  Don't be fooled.  The clouds can part, the sun may shine.  Just give God some time.  Take a moment.  Pray.  And give thanks.

I'm trying to do what needs to be done at the church quickly so I can take my sermon reading home to the parsonage before the weather turns nasty.  I'm rushing, I'm busy, I'm focused.  The door bell rings.  Who are these people?  I don't recognize their vehicle in the parking lot.  I don't have time to this.  Don't they know there's a no'easter coming?  The Southern telemarketer who called me earlier did.  Don't they? I go to open the door.  Relief is expressed.  They need gas.  I invite them in.  I get a card.  We chit chat.  I surprise the person needing assistance when I tell I her, no, there aren't forms to fill out.  It's why were here, to help our neighbors.  We exchange some more pleasantries.  The person says thanks and leaves. My time is mine again.  And I thank God for reminding me that while I was worried about getting done what needed to be done at the church I was in the midst of doing what needed to be done at

They say it's darkest before the dawn and, given the uncivilized hour at which I'm awake so I can catch the early bus to Boston, I have no reason to demur.  It is dark outside.  So dark it's hard to wonder if the light will ever shine again - which is a remarkable thing to imagine as sunrise is not too far off. During Advent, as we wait for the arrival of the Christ child, we may have moments when we wonder when, indeed if, he will ever arrive.  Perhaps we will then feel guilty.  Don't.  Just keep waiting.  For as surely as the sun will rise in the morning, God will keep his promise and come to us, Emmanuel.

Today is the Second Sunday of Advent.  It is also, by our Christian calendar, the Sabbath, the day of rest.  During this hectic time of year, with shopping to do, parties to attend, people to help, and more, more, more, taking a cue from the Creator of the Universe is especially important.  If God, who still had to run that cosmos He'd just created, could find time to rest, then so too can we.  We may have a lot going on in our lives, but do really have to deal with as much as God?  I thought so.  After worship today, I'm going to put up my feet for a few minutes, reflect on the goodness of God's holy, sacred world, give thanks, and rest.

Today is the Feast Day of St. Nicholas of Myra.  This ancient figure from the history of the church, the progenitor for today's St. Nick or Santa Claus, is the patron saint of children and those who care for them.  On this day during this season of waiting and watching, as we prepare for the arrival of the Christ child, let us recommit ourselves to the care and nurture of the young people in our midst and beyond.  It is hard to think of a more fitting present to give to our Savior as we celebrate his birth.

Boy Scouts (and I’ll presume Girl Scouts, too) are taught to be prepared, which involves mastering a host of skills, habits and attitudes that will enable the scout to respond to a wide variety of situations.   During Advent, Christians, too, are called to be prepared.   And they, too, must master skills, habits and attitudes.   What might those be?   Some, but not all, would be intentional prayer, discerning God’s will, honoring the Sabbath, serving those in need.   By doing these things we prepare ourselves for the arrival of Jesus.   And while we may not receive a merit badge, we’ll be able to more fully experience God’s unfolding kingdom.

No it's not Santa Claus, at least according to Mark's Gospel.  Instead, we should be on the lookout for John the Baptist.  No red suit here.  No bag full of toys.  Just an animal skin and an arresting call to make way for one greater than him.  During this season of Advent we are invited to emulate John, not necessarily by donning a hair shirt or by eating locusts, but by telling people about the imminent arrival of Jesus and how we still have time to make ready for his coming.

During Advent we talk about the virtues of patience.  It's one thing to talk about be patient; it's a wholly other matter to be patient.  The former involves an abstract concept; the latter the practice of a discipline.  I've been reminded of this difference by the onset of a doozy of a cold.  Chills, fever, sneezing, runny nose, and the desire to sleep, sleep, sleep.  I'm done.  I'm ready for it to be over.  But beyond taking my meds, drinking lots of fluids, and getting rest, there's really not much I can do, is there - other than wait for this to pass by.  So, I can be impatient and fret, or be patient and calm.  The latter is proving to be a more satisfying course.  "Be patient," we say.  That's easy.  Be patient, we do.  That's tougher.  But far more rewarding.

Tuesday, Tuesday My e-mail in box is being inundated with asks from various and sundry philanthropies on this Giving Tuesday.  Click a link, go to a site, and in moments I can donate to my favorite cause.  It's that easy.  Of course, I can dispense with the whole enterprise, go to Guszano's or Margarita's and celebrate Taco Tuesday, an occasion familiar to any parent who has watched the Lego movie.  Or, maybe as this is Advent, I can observe Patience Tuesday.  On Patience Tuesday, I'll sit quietly, intently, and wait for the Holy Spirit.  I don't know how it will make itself known, whether sooner or later, forcefully or gently, but something tells me my patience will not be in vain.  That if I am faithful and watch for signs of God's new creation, which will be made known in a strikingly new way in the Christ child, I will not be disappointed. Patience Tuesday.  Let's give it a try!

Keeping Watch This morning four small snowmen are keeping watch over the church - and offering a welcome to anyone who approaches the front door.  Built by the kids during yesterday's decorating party, these diminutive sentinels will soon melt away.  But while they'll be gone, the need to keep watch and offer hospitality will remain.  Will you step up?  Will I?  As we begin Advent, it's a question worth pondering.   Are we ready to be patient, to stay alert, so that the Christ child will receive a warm welcome later this month?  Or will we, too, melt away, leaving behind silence and an empty space?