The Mainline Minister

One of the great moments in Yuletide storytelling occurs in "A Charlie Brown Christmas." When asked what the Christmas story was all about, Linus offered the following from Luke: In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.

Anybody who has ever traveled with a child (or been a child who has traveled) is familiar with that most insistent, expectant, hope-laden question: Are we there yet? Those simple, eager, sometimes desperate words are filled with anticipation, yearning, desire. All too often, the answer is "no." And when the query has been made multiple times, the "no" may be curt, sharp, lacking in warmth. Happily, none of that will be going on today. As we complete our Advent journey, and ask the question, "Are we there yet?" the answer is a joyful "just about" -- if we're thinking of tonight's candlelight services and tomorrow's festivities (and service!). But if we're thinking about something more elemental - God's presence -- then the answer is "Yes!" We're in God's presence, indeed, we've been there all along, because God, motivated by and defining love, came searching us out, each of us and all of u

We're almost there ... almost at Christmas. So let's enjoy our final moments of Advent. The hour may be late, but this last full day of the season of preparation has yet to come to a close. If you have a chance, take a moment and sit quietly. Reflect on your Advent journey, on how God has been in present in your life, on what it means to embark on a voyage of spiritual discovery with Emmanuel. Then, when you are done, give thanks to our Creator for not only inviting us on this journey but for being our steadfast companion, in good times and bad.

This morning I paid a visit to the dentist. And while I was in an office just a few steps from the green in downtown Lebanon, I also found myself on the Upper West Side, in the waiting room of Dr. Hiram Angfang, the family dentist. It was never clear to me why we went to Manhattan to have our teeth checked and cleaned, but I didn't mind. Rides on the subway, a trip for pizza after the appointment (my dad always led these expeditions), an excursion down to Times Square in all of its squalid 1970s glory beckoned. Throw in piles of Highlights for Children and colorful fish in the aquarium and one had an always satisfying experience. But if you asked me to recall just one thing about Dr. Angfang's office all these years later, it would be the bonsai tree. Small, delicate, beautiful, and resilient, the little tree held pride of place in the waiting area. For a kid, that Bonsai was magical - trees were supposed to be, well, big. And this one was most definitely

How appropros today's forecast is: cloudy, cold, with a 100% of rain this afternoon. This weather is just what's needed on the shortest day of the year; not only will we enjoy more darkness than on any other day of the year, the elements will join in the effort to dampen our spirits. Woo hoo. Of course, there is an upside to all this: Tomorrow there will be more daylight than there is today. The skies will be clear. Things will be better. My weather app tells me so and I believe it, even though almost three decades of New England living tell me to take any prediction involving weather with a grain of salt. Still, I'm optimistic, I have faith. And what is faith? In Hebrews 11 we are told that "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Faith is what animates our longing, our yearning, our anticipation for Emmanuel, the Christ-child, who was promised to us long ago. Each of us desires to experience love inca

Today I'd like to extend an invitation. Set aside a few moments, find a quiet place, then sing aloud (or read in silence) "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." After doing this, meditate on and pray about your desire to encounter the one who comes to you and me and the world, God-with-us. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel Pilgrim Hymnal 110 O come, O come, Emmanuel And ransom captive Israel That mourns in lonely exile here Until the Son of God appear Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel. O come, Thou Wisdom from on high, And order all things, far and nigh; To us the path of knowledge show, And cause us in her ways to go. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel. O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer Our spirits by Thine advent here; Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, And death’s dark shadows put to flight. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel Shall come to thee, O Israel. O come,

The news arrived yesterday of the death of two political figures: Kim Il Sung and Vaclav Havel. The former was an odious tyrant who oppressed and exploited his people, the latter a man who embodied his nation's yearning for freedom. About as far apart as two leaders can be in values, temperament, and priorities, and legitimacy, they did share in common one thing: their mortality. Even at the pinnacle of power, their reach was limited, their influence finite. Their finitude stands in contrast to that of the king whose arrival we anticipate at the end of this week: the ruler who appears as an infant, the one who assumes a throne to serve, the monarch who equates power with service.

If you've ever run a race, you're familiar with the home stretch. You've run almost the whole distance, but that last bit needs to be covered before the finish line is crossed. I always found myself focused in those moments and always wanted to go out strong, inevitably finding some well of energy on which I could draw so I could end on a strong note. As a result, I always found myself able to be fully present in the final stages of a race, whether it was a 5K or half marathon. In many ways, it was when I felt most attuned to what was going on. We're in the home stretch of Advent and Christmas is just over the horizon. I hope that each of us can be fully present to this season of anticipation and preparation over the next few days. If we are, crossing the finish line -- arriving at the manger in Bethlehem -- will be that much more enlivening and fulfilling.

Can you feel the impending change? Today is the final day of the last full week of Advent; tomorrow we'll begin the run up to Christmas. This afternoon offers a respite, a chance to catch our breath, to take a moment to think about John's proclamation of who he was (I am the voice) and the One he was heralding (He who is speaking a word of hope, grace, salvation). I hope you'll find a time to sit or walk, pray or think, a time in which you'll be able to step back and marvel at the journey on which God has been leading us this Advent season and throughout our lives.

This morning I was in Cambridge and, having some time before a meeting, I stopped in at one of my old breakfast haunts from my Div School days. The last time I was there, I weighed a good 50 pounds more than I do today. When I went in, I took a stool at the counter, and was given a menu like anybody walking in off the street. But after a little while, Raffie and Richie, the short order cooks, having exchanged some knowing glances and sotte voce comments, both looked me in the eye, smiled and said it was good to see me. They readily, and a bit sheepishly, confessed they didn't recognize at me first; I told them I wasn't surprise given the passage of time and my weight loss. We talked a bit, I enjoyed my breakfast, and off I went to my next engagement. I think my experience this morning offers a glimpse of what it's like to wander into God's presence, especially during Advent. No matter how much time has passed, nor how much we've changed, God will a

With apologies to Raymond Chandler, today's weather is the stuff the blues are made of. The skies are a leaden gray, the intermittent rain cold and unwanted. All I want to do is say, "blah." "Blah." I've done it. Do I feel better? Not so much. Which suggests another tack might be in order. Looking at the sky again, I recall the imagery from Luke of angels bursting forth through the sky, breaking into our world to announce the birth of the Christ child. Advent, the time of waiting, is a moment to remember that something different, something grander is coming. That's not just an empty statement; it's the truth. And we know this is the case because what's to come is promised by our faithful God -- who has already made good on his commitment to us. So, "Blah?'' Not on your life. How about "Wow!"

A glance at my desk diary told me I didn't have the time. Meetings. Sermon prep. Christmas services. Etc. Etc. Etc. But the advice from a fellow parent to attend the Advent singing that begins the day at Chip's school was compelling. So this morning I drove to Quechee and slipped into the auditorium with Chip. The kids entered the room, spiraling around the candles with the oldest on the outside, the youngest at the center. Songs ensued, some quiet, some boisterous, all geared to Advent, culminating with Dona Nobis Pacem. It was a joy and blessing to be present. For while the rest of my day may be a bit more crowded and hectic, the time amidst those young singers grounded me for the day ahead, reminding me of my priorities this Advent season: to slow down and be present in God's moment.

'Tis the season of gift giving, we are told. Repeatedly. Endlessly. Ad nauseum. That perfect something -- whether it's a widget from the hardware store or a diamond from Tiffany's -- is just waiting to be placed in the hands of that someone special in your life (Your beloved? Your mom? You, perhaps?). And with all of this come the all-too-familiar cries of rampant consumerism, of how we've lost sight of the "reason for the season" as the corny phrase has it. So what to do? Throttle back on the shopping? Sure. Give things that show thoughtfulness rather than spending capacity? Definitely. But here's an additional idea: look at the seasonal gift giving frenzy as an opportunity to practice gratitude. Every time you get something, even that family fruitcake or those neon purple socks, say thank you. Like you mean it. Then reflect on other things in your life for which you wish to give thanks, especially God's grace and love made kno

The sun is shining bright, the sky's a crisp blue, and everything is sharp: a picture postcard-quality December day. The light is the kind that makes the heart soar and the spirit sing as all is brought into sharp relief. Bringing things into sharp relief: that's what Advent can do for our perspective, too. We prepare ourselves for the arrival of the One who illuminates the Way, who, through word, action, miracle, example, shows us what we need to know to lead lives of clarity, purpose, and grace. Look around, enjoy the view, and give thanks for what God is showing you, me, us, this day.

During Advent, we prepare to welcome the infant Jesus into the world and into our lives. But as we do this, we should ready ourselves to not only welcome but to be welcomed. The Christ child, after all, came to usher in God's Kingdom, to signal to each of us, whether we were born in a manger or a palace or some place in between, that there is a place in God's new community of love, grace, and hope for everyone. So as we welcome Jesus, let us always remember that he welcomed us first.

Today is Saturday, the day of rest, the Sabbath, according to Genesis and is still recognized and celebrated as such by Judaism. This was originally the Christian day of rest, too, but for a variety of reasons theological, ecclesiastical, and competitive, the early church moved the Sabbath to Sunday. Advent strikes me as a great time to break out of our routines, including the one that assigns a specific day to rest and by implication suggests resting on the other days is somehow inappropriate. Resting isn't lazing about or being idle, it's a time to take stock, to reflect on God's good creation, on the kingdom that is breaking into the world. Please join me today -- and on all the other days with and without the word "sun" in them --- in finding time to rest, give thanks and praise, and thus prepare ourselves to welcome God into our lives.

If you have a moment, take a peek at Sunday's reading from John's Gospel (John 1:6-8, 19-28). It's clear that the rabble rouser has come to town, ready to shake things up. But John's not stirring up trouble just because he's a rebel. Instead, he's trying to clear a path for Jesus. During this season of preparation, we're called to do the same, to shake things up, to stir the pot. We may focus on our community -- or we make turn our attention inward. Either way, by rocking the proverbial boat, we're readying ourselves for the arrival of Jesus and the transforming love and grace he offers. So don't just sit there -- shake things up!

The forecast tipped me off days ago about the potential for wintry weather. The weatherman prepped me for 4 to 8 inches of snow -- and thus all the inconveniences that might ensue: hazardous driving, school delays or closures, lots of shoveling. I prepared myself. And then ... A crusty, light snow. Decorative, really. Easy to remove and navigate. Everyone was off to school and work on time. So, another Advent surprise and reminder: we so easily allow ourselves to be consumed by fear, doubt, worries, the things that can go wrong. But when we let this happen, we risk missing the small joys, the little reminders of God's love all around us. We read in the Gospels that we are not to worry, that God is in charge. Advent is a time to step back, slow down, and wait -- wait for God's design for creation and for our lives to unfold. As we do this, I pray that each of us is surprised -- by joy, by grace, even by snow.

It's been one of those days (again) where one meeting leads to another that leads to a lunch that leads to a ... You get the picture. It's all been good, worthwhile, and fulfilling. But there's been barely a moment to catch my breath. Which, oddly enough, may be a good thing. Why? Because it's a reminder that time for reflection is something we can't take for granted. Schedules, demands on our time, preoccupations, distractions can all keep us from slowing down. Yet if we're not intentional, if we don't take the time to be present in and for Advent, we risk losing sight of the sacred, the holy breaking into our world. God is coming to us -- but God may not do so with fanfare. Instead, like the thief in the night, he may be stealthy, quiet, and, if we're not paying attention, we may never even notice he's arrived!

Today is the feast day of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children and the inspiration for Santa Claus. In this season when we hear lots about the wonders and magic of childhood but see marketing machines treat our little ones as consumers and read in the sports pages of awful things being done to kids by those they trust and respect, it's important to pause and give thanks for and pray for the children in our midst. They are a blessing, a responsibility, a joy, a challenge. And it was in the form of one that God came to us. In this season when we are encouraged to give, let's give the gift of love and caring to our young ones, whether they're the kids in our own or boys and girls on the far side of the world.

My day began early - very early as I had a board meeting in Boston and wanted to avoid sitting in morning rush hour traffic on Route 92 -- and never quite seemed to slow down. Now, though, I have a chance to reflect, to pause, to catch my breath. While late evening is a time to be tired, it's also a time when our defenses can be down and distractions put aside, enabling us to open ourselves in new ways to the Holy Spirit, which sometimes approaches us gently, subtly, even stealthily. I pray that during this Advent season you will be graced with evening moments when you can set aside your cares, your worries, your schedule, and lose yourself in the quiet, stillness of the hour. Because when you do lose yourself you way you will be blessed by what you find ...

It's the second Sunday of Advent and millions of churchgoers around the world will be sitting in their pews grumbling, "Why can't we just skip to the Christmas carols already?" I'm sympathetic to these impulses -- the music of Christmas often has primal associations for us, evoking hopes, dreams, memories, aspirations. But while it may not all be as singable, the music of Advent can stir deep emotions -- and satisfy the singer -- too. Whether it's the grand "Lo! He comes with clouds descending," the gentle "Of the Father's Love Begotten," the thumping "On Jordan's Bank the Baptist's Cry," or the intimately familiar "O come, O come, Emmanuel," there's something for everyone. So, enjoy the moment. Be present in Advent. Sing the music of the season with joy and gratitude. You'll be glad you did. And, when Christmas comes around, those carols will be enjoyed that much more!

We talk about waiting during Advent: we wait for Christmas, we wait for the Christ child. But waiting need not mean being idle. It need involve sitting on our hands and doing nothing. It should be a synonym for passivity in our spiritual lives. As we wait for the Christ child, as we prepare for joy incarnate to break into our world, we can seek out God's love -- in those around us, among strangers, in the community, through service, prayer, reading, song, wherever, whenever, we're ready to be be alert. So let's look, listen, wait -- and seek. God comes to us -- and delights in our coming to God.

This morning I enjoyed a cup of coffee with a member of our church. We had a chance to catch up on each others' lives, share the latest news about our families, share a few jokes, and, of course, talk church. The time we took from our schedules was a gift, not just because of the company we shared, but because meeting gave each of us a chance to slow down. As I consider this Advent, and reflect on the year that's past, I see that there are more people, in the church and beyond, with whom I would like to have coffee or lunch or whatnot. I write this not out of a sense of guilt, but gratitude and possibility. So, rather than offer a New Year's Resolution, I'm offering an Advent Aspiration: to take more time to enjoy that blessing of the company of the members of my community -- whether it's the one I experience in church or it's the one beyond. Perhaps you'll join me in grabbing a cup of Joe? My treat!

It's December 1, which means people around the world will begin opening little doors on Advent calendars as they count their way down to Christmas. If one is using a new calendar, one never knows what one will find behind the flap. The door behind which one discovers the unexpected: what a wonderful image to carry through Advent! During this season of waiting and watching, of being alert and awake, we can be surprised in ways large and small as we open ourselves to encounters with God, through prayer, reflection, reading, service and interaction with others. So crack open the door, take a peak at what's behind -- you'll be amazed and blessed by what's awaiting you!