Peace

A Ritz Cracker and a Run-On Sentence

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(part of the “Waiting on the World to Change” Advent Series)

Romans 1: 1-7 (Advent 4A)

Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, 2which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, 3the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh 4and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, 5through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name, 6including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ, 7To all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

First of all, and I realize that this is totally irrelevant, but does anyone else notice that this passage is just one sentence?  Perhaps Paul was not one for taking lots of breaths.  Or was he almost in a panic-state trying to get the words out?  It was as if his audience was somehow drifting away, heading down a road that he did not think was good, leaving Paul behind in a sense.  So, Paul, seemingly breathless and with more words than a sentence should hold, went chasing after them.  Whatever it is, Paul is reminding his hearers to whom they belong.  Maybe it was his way of trying to call them away from the lure of the world, from what Paul saw as an almost competing society, a competing way of living and being.  See, these people probably had no problem seeing themselves as belonging to Christ, as part of Christ’s kingdom.  I mean, they were new believers.  They were excited.  They were still pumped up from that first evangelical moment that they had experienced.  And yet, there was the Roman Empire looming large around them.  It was hard to refuse.  Who are we kidding?  It was dangerous to refuse.  One could quickly lose everything.

Now I don’t think Paul really wanted them to leave it all behind.  After all, his own identity as a Jew in the Roman Empire was important to him.  He just wanted them to see something different.  He wanted them to see something bigger, something beyond where they were.  He wanted them to realize that it was not that the Roman Empire was where they belonged now and the Kingdom of God was where they were going; but rather, the two existed together.  He wanted people to understand that the Kingdom of God was not the “other way”, not the veritable opposite of the way they were living but rather the “Thing” that encompassed the “thing”.  And maybe they belonged to both things.  (I mean, in our own context, patriotism is not anti-God; it just has the possibility of developing into sort of a misplaced devotion that competes with our spiritual selves.)  All that we are and all that we have and all to which we belong belongs to God.  It is the way God lays claim on us, bursting into our lives as we know them, pouring the very Godself into each and every crevice of our lives until all (yes, ALL) is recreated in the Name of Christ.  We are called not to choose between Christ and the world but to bring Christ to the world.

I once baptized a young child that was eating a Ritz cracker through the whole thing. Now, we don’t usually pass out hor’dourves with the Sacraments, but, really, did that change God’s Presence in that moment?  For that matter, who’s to say that it didn’t make that Presence more real?  (OK, so maybe I’m not as much of a sacramental purist as you thought!)  God’s presence and God’s promise comes wherever one is.  Our calling is to respond to that presence in the midst of the lives we lead.  But that entails learning to see and listen in a way that many of us do not.  We need to appreciate how God calls others into being so that we might be able to better discern our own unique way that God is entering our lives.  And the Ritz?  Well, who hasn’t eaten a Ritz? (And, for me, a little peanut butter) It is not part of the “other” way of living.  All that we have and all that we are belongs to God.  And, you know, that little bit of water that I sprinkled onto that child’s head does not exist in a vacuum.  The choice is not to choose the water or the Ritz.  The choice is not to choose God or empire.  The choice is to follow God through all that is and all that we encounter, to open oneself to becoming new not instead of the old but as even it is made new.

So, here we are one week from Christmas Eve.  I don’t know about you but this whole waiting on the world to change thing is, well, it’s exhausting!  Our world is exhausting.  Sometimes it seems like the “empire”–the power-hungry, money-hungry, allegiance-hungry, affirmation-begging ones that have put themselves in charge—just doesn’t leave a lot of room for the change we so desperately need.  And so, we stay mired in global wars and national gun violence, in acceptance of prejudice and homophobia and racism, in our refusal to allow others into our society.  Journalist and writer Tina Brown (in her Substack Letter “Fresh Hell”) says that we’ve been “liberated to be our worst selves”.  Don’t you think that’s the way Paul felt sometimes?  Don’t you think there were those in that group of first hearers of his Letter to the Roman that felt the same way we do?  I think so.  I want to feel differently than I do.  I want to see and feel that “peace that passeth understanding”.  But, for now, we’re here.  And so is God.  God calls us to be who God calls us to be even in the midst of the empire, even in the midst of our worst selves.

I think that’s the point of Advent—not to lift us out of where we are but to remind us that there is another way to be where we are, that we are not destined to be mired in this, that we are destined to lift it up with us as we journey beyond the muck and the mire.  Maybe God’s Presence is not some big, flashy extravaganza like we’ve been expecting.  Maybe it’s been there all along, sort of like a little bit of water and a Ritz cracker, or maybe more like a baby born into a world that was not ready, that was never ready, a world that couldn’t move over and make room.  Advent is not only about welcoming a King; Advent is about making room for a God who comes into our ordinary lives as an ordinary person into an ordinary (and, yes, very flawed) place and makes it all extraordinary.  Advent is a lot like eating a Ritz cracker through a Holy Sacrament or a run-on sentence that only makes sense when you figure out the context.

There must be always remaining in every one’s life some place for the singing of angels, some place for that which in itself is breathlessly beautiful and, by an inherent prerogative, throws all the rest of life into a new and creative relatedness, something that gathers up in itself all the freshets of experience from drab to commonplace areas of living and glows in on bright white light of penetrating beauty and meaning —then passes.”(Howard Thurman)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Within

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(part of the “Waiting on the World to Change” Advent Series)

Psalm 122 (Advent 1A)

1I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord!” 2Our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem. 3Jerusalem—built as a city that is bound firmly together. 4To it the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, as was decreed for Israel, to give thanks to the name of the Lord. 5For there the thrones for judgment were set up, the thrones of the house of David. 6Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: “May they prosper who love you. 7Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers.” 8For the sake of my relatives and friends I will say, “Peace be within you.” 9For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your good.

So, we’re four days into Advent, four days into waiting on the world to change, and, as far as I can tell, there have not been any huge changes made.  I mean, wouldn’t it be wonderful if this was the year, if this was the season, when peace came to be?  Wouldn’t it be grand if this was when people began to recognize that each of us is a child of God?  Wouldn’t it be terrific if this was when poverty and hunger and racism and xenophobia and gun violence and global warming and all those things that clutter our world were resolved?  Wouldn’t it be the most incredible thing if all of us could lay down our weapons and our power and our need to preserve the status quo?  Wouldn’t it be something if we didn’t have to wait anymore for the world to change?  What if we discovered that we really were standing within your gates?

But we all know better.  There is so much that needs to change, so much that needs to happen before the Kingdom of God, the vision that God intended all along for us comes to be in its fullness.  And so, we wait.  And, today, we’re given this psalm.  It is a “Song of Ascents”.  It describes the pilgrim throng entering the “house of the Lord”.  It’s the invitation.  Let us go to the house of the Lord.  It is the eternal peace, that vision that we’ve been talking about.  It is the Kingdom of God in its fullness. 

Advent is indeed a season of waiting.  But it is also a season of imagining.  It is a season of beginning the ascent.  It is the season when we journey to the House of the Lord.  And in this way, our waiting, our waiting for the world to change, begins with us.  For within us, is that peace.  Within us, is that vision that God holds for us all.  The waiting on the world to change begins within us.  It begins with us imagining it and journeying toward it.  Our feet are indeed standing within your gates, O Jerusalem.  Peace be within you.  It’s right there….

A dreamer is one who can find [his or her] way in the moonlight, and [whose] punishment is that [he or she] sees the dawn before the rest of the world.  (Oscar Wilde)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Home Repairs

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Scripture Text: Mark 3: 20-35 (Proper 5B)

20and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. 21When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” 22And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” 23And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? 24If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. 27But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered. 28“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; 29but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— 30for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.” 31Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. 32A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” 33And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 34And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! 35Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Oh, who are we kidding?  Family reunions are hard.  Jesus has returned home.  And the family was not all that supportive of him.  Doesn’t your family reunion include some people that you sometimes wish would just be quiet, maybe not speak their mind so freely, maybe learn to filter what they say? See, Jesus was not echoing the church leaders.  What a troublemaker!  All of the stuff he was saying did not makes sense.  So, they accuse him of being possessed by a demon. (Yes, that’s always very impressive when your family does that!)

So, Jesus, in true Jesus fashion, began teaching in parables.  “Really, people?  I mean, if I were possessed, if I were Satan or a demon or something, then how in the world could I heal people?  How in the world could I speak of this God of grace and forgiveness?  If I WERE evil and I preached AGAINST evil, then it would all fall anyway.  Because any house that is divided will fall.  God is a God of forgiveness.  But we have to listen.  We have to listen to who the Spirit is calling us to be or we cannot be close to God.”

Jesus is not denying our place in the world; Jesus is calling us to realize that the world needs us to move beyond that place.  We are called to embrace our larger family, to open our eyes to their needs, to open our minds to the part of God that they can show us, and to open our lives that they might be a part of us.  That is what it means to have a servant’s heart, what it means to be part of the family of God—not only to give what we have to others, but to share our very lives with them.

So, why are we being warned that our house is going to fall down?  Oh, it’s not talking about our individual house.  It’s also not talking about our house of worship or our denomination.  (Although my own United Methodist Church has spent a little bit of time falling down lately!  We have not been the bastion of unity!)  And it’s also not talking about our country (although we could stand to learn some lessons from it!)  It’s talking about all of us.  It’s talking about the world.  It’s talking about a world that right now is divided.  No, correct that…it’s downright splitting at the seams.  We are all so distracted by our own individual needs.  We spend so much time preserving our own opinions and even wrapping ourselves in our own flag (uh, yeah, you’re not supposed to wrap yourself in the flag!) that we have forgotten who we are.  We have forgotten that we are here for each other.  We have forgotten that we are called to be the hands and feet and mind of Christ in the world.

So, go with me here…imagine us all standing in a circle.  But you know the way we are.  We stand an appropriate distance apart, not wanting to violate acceptable personal space standards and certainly not wanting anyone to violate ours.  And we miss noticing that our neighbor is hurting, that our neighbor is hungry, that our neighbor needs help to ward off an enemy that has attacked them and tried to take their country.  (Sorry, trying not to get political here!)  We want to help but we don’t want to get TOO involved.  And we certainly don’t want it to affect us.  But that’s not the way a house works.  Houses can’t exist with holes in them.  Houses can’t exist with its parts sprawled across “acceptable” space.  So, step in.  Make the circle smaller.  Step in enough that you’re forced to touch each other.  (Yes, it’s uncomfortable!)  You know what would make it more bearable? Embrace each other.  It creates more comfort, more space.  And yet it still holds the house together.  And we start to see each other differently. 

You know, if we could, if the laws of physics permitted, we could step in again.  We could truly become part of each other.  That’s what God intended.  God intended for us to become part of each other and, in that way, as the circle came closer and closer to the center, we would also come closer to God.  We were not created to exist alone, painfully holding the pieces of the house together.  The house is all of us.  And if we hold on, we can repair it.

It doesn’t mean that we will not have disagreements.  I don’t even know if it means that we all like each other.  God made us very different from one another.  Thanks be to God.  Because those differences are what wakes us up to the movement of God’s Spirit in our midst.  But we’re called to respect each other, allow each other the freedom to be who God calls each of us to be, and, more than anything, we’re called to love each other—in our own families, in our church, and as we move, filled with God’s breath and empowered by God’s Spirit, into the world where God already is.

There is a story of a father who was desperately trying to keep his children entertained.  It was a wet Saturday, the children were bored, and they were beginning to get on his nerves.  But then he came up with what he thought was a very inventive (and, hopefully, a time-consuming) activity for them.  He took a magazine and found a map of the world printed on one page.  He tore out the page and proceeded to cut it up with scissors into small pieces.  Then he jumbled up all the pieces and placed them in a pile on the floor, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.  He then gave his two young sons the task of putting the map together again, thinking that it would surely keep them quiet for some time.  Imagine his amazement when, less than five minutes later, they returned with the completed map.  “How,” he asked, “did you manage to put it back together again so quickly?” “Oh, it was easy,” replied on of his sons.  “You told us it was a map of the world, and when we looked at the pieces, at first we didn’t know where to begin to sort it all out.  It seemed impossible.  But then we realized that there was a picture of a person on the other side, so we just put the person back together again.  When we turned it over, the world had come back together again as well.” (From One Hundred Wisdom Stories From Around the World, by Margaret Silf)

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered…Where are you living? What are you doing?  What are your relationships?  Are you in right relation?  Where is your water?  Know your garden.  It is time to speak your truth.  Create your community.  Be good to each other.  And do not look outside yourself for your leader…We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  (Hopi Elders)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Calm

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Scripture Text: Isaiah 2: 1-5

The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem. 2In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. 3Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 4He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 5O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!

This passage is actually from the first Sunday of Advent for Year A.  (See, to write every day, I usually have to add Scriptures.)  It is familiar, perhaps one of your favorites.  Filled with beautiful imagery, it provides a promise of a reconciliation of God’s people as they stream together to one place, a great gathering with echoes of peace and unity. It’s a hard read in this time of turmoil and war.  That image seems to have slipped farther away than ever.  What can we do?  How are we supposed to be a part of this peaceable kingdom when we’re so afraid and so divided and, yes, so incredibly angry at one another?

The meaning of this season of Advent, like most of our church seasons, is not easily condensed into a pithy phrase.  It’s complicated and nuanced.  See, part of it is remembrance of the past, of the people that wandered for centuries as they waited for a Savior.  That’s why we read Isaiah so much that we might in some way finally know the story of exile and redemption.  Advent is also about our own preparation.  Are our hearts ready for what is next?  Are we prepared to perhaps not just welcome the Christ child in some sort of annual re-creation but to actually change the way we walk from that place?  And, finally, this season is one that beckons us to look ahead to that peaceable kingdom, to the time of peace and unity and that imagined great gathering of God’s people.  But here’s the crux.  This season of preparation is not just about getting your house ready or getting all the gift-buying done or even preparing your heart for Christmas Eve.  That’s only part of it.  We are being asked to do something else.  We are being asked to be a part of calming this world that it might awake to what it is called to be.  We are called to be catalysts of change and instruments of peace.  Rather than merely decorating our trees, we are actually called to do some manger-lining, to prepare for the birth of Christ and the birth of the Kingdom.  Our waiting is not passive.  We are called to be part of it.

What in the world does that mean?  I’m so bothered by our world right now.  I pray for peace.  But I don’t think that’s enough.  See, I’d like to be a pacifist.  I think it is the way of Christ.  I think it is the way to be human.  But my pacifism flew out the window when I walked into Auschwitz.  When you step across the train tracks that brought humans in cattle cars to their demise, when you walk across the noisy sharp rocks that still remain on the floor of the camp, and when you enter the barracks with scratches in the walls where someone tried to maintain their sanity and dignity, you begin to realize that peace is not merely an absence of war. 

Auschwitz has piles of things that were unearthed when the camp was freed and all of these belongings are there to help us remember.  I was drawn to a suitcase, a suitcase with the name Anna Kraus on it.  My grandmother’s maiden name was Krause, so the name caught my eye.  I’ve thought a lot about her over the years and, particularly, over the last few months.  In recent years, there have been great strides in completing the database of the victims of Auschwitz and other concentration camps.  Now I know.  She was born May 19, 1898.  Her last residence was the district of Seegasse in Vienna.  She was transported from Vienna to Terezin and then from Terezin to Auschwitz on October 23, 1944 with 1,713 other deportees.  Of those 1,517 were murdered.  Anna was one of those.  Now I know.

Now we know.  What now?  What part do we have in lining the manger for the birth of that Kingdom?  This season of Advent is the one that calls us to do that.  As I said, I’d like to be a pacifist but maybe I don’t have the stomach for it.  I believe that the people of Israel have a right to defend themselves.  I believe that for Anna.  I also believe that the people of Palestine have a right to safety and dignity and, yes, a place to live, a place to thrive. I believe that we have to speak out against anti-Semitism and anti-Muslim rhetoric.  I believe that we should always speak out against any notion of certain races or certain ethnicities or certain ways of life or certain ways of worship being better or more deserving than the next.  I believe in that great gathering with all of us streaming into the Peaceable Kingdom.  I believe that each of us has our own part in lining that manger for the birth, a part in beating all the swords into plows.  Peace is not merely an absence of war.  In Hebrew, Shalom is more about wholeness or completeness.  If people do not have dignity and freedom, if they are not whole or complete, peace is not present.  I think peace is perhaps more of a calming of rhetoric, a calming of anger, a calming of violence, a calming of the world we know that it might become what God envisions it to be.  God will bring the Peaceable Kingdom to be.  But perhaps we are called to line the manger with a world that is calm enough to know that.  Because now we know.

There is a Muslim prayer for peace that prays, “In the name of Allah, the beneficent, the merciful.  Praise be to the Lord of the Universe, who has created us and made us into tribes and nations, that we may know each other, not that we may despise each other.”

Shalom to you as you do your part in the manger-lining.  May this Advent be a season of Peace.

Peace does not come rolling in on the wheels of inevitability.  We can’t just wish for peace.  We have to will it, fight for it, suffer for it, demand it from our governments as if peace were God’s most cherished hope for humanity, as indeed it is.  (William Sloane Coffin)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Illumination of Peace

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Scripture Text: Micah 5:2-5a (Advent 4C)

2But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. 3Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in labor has brought forth; then the rest of his kindred shall return to the people of Israel. 4And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; 5and he shall be the one of peace.

The time in which Micah prophesied was a time of great turmoil and violence.  The Assyrians had already invaded the region, had captured Samaria (capital of the northern kingdom), and had attacked several towns in Judah.  Corruption was at its height among the rulers and the people were reaching a point of despair.  Their expectations more than likely would have been for God to send a great warrior, a ruler who would quash the growing threat and instill a sense of safety for all against their enemies. But, instead, the prophet promises a ruler who will bring peace.

Yeah, I know…we all went there. But keep in mind that the original prophecy and the current-day Jewish interpretation does not associate this promise with the coming of Jesus.  The Old Testament should stand within the context in which it was written.  This was the promise of a king that would bring a time of peace against the Assyrians and for the time thereafter.  But for the Gospel writers, this understanding was illumined through Jesus Christ.  Know that neither is the “right way” or the “wrong way” to understand it.  Either way, God offers hope and promise of new life.  

So, who is this “one of peace”?  I mean, as near as I can tell, the world has never experienced peace.  For as long as history has been written, the earth has rocked on its axis with threats or acts of war and violence and intentional ways to divide us.  Rulers came and went.  Jesus was born.  Great theologians and spiritual thinkers have written of the peaceful time to come.  And peace still seems to be elusive for us.  Could it be that the promise of peace is elusive because we’re waiting for someone else to do something?  Jesus did not bring peace as if it could be manifest with some sort of magic earthly pill. Instead, Jesus showed us a different Way, a radical Way, the Way of Peace. Jesus did not bring peace; Jesus brought the love of peace.  What Jesus showed us was indeed radical.  It was a different Way than the one to which the world was and is accustomed.  This Way of Peace is not merely an absence of war.  It has to do with so much more, a pervasive and radical re-imagining of the way we live in this world. 

Peace cannot be until we respect one another, whether or not we agree.  Peace cannot be until we honor one another’s life, until food and housing and safety is available for all.  Peace cannot be until we realize that this earth in which we live, all of its creatures, all of its resources, and all of its beauty are entrusted to us not for our consumption but for our care.  “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”  The “one of peace” has indeed come but peace itself is up to us as children of God.  Each of us has a part. Our journey toward the Light is a Way of Peace.

Peace does not come rolling in on the wheels of inevitability.  We can’t just wish for peace.  We have to will it, fight for it, suffer for it, demand it from our governments as if peace were God’s most cherished hope for humanity, as indeed it is.  (William Sloan Coffin) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

What’s In the Light

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Scripture Text: Philippians 4:4-9 (Advent 3C)

4Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. 5Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 8Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. 9Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.

We’re used to language like this during Advent, wishes for joy and peace.  But sometimes they seem to be a little elusive.  I mean, how in the world do you rejoice always?  Sometimes things are just not worthy of rejoicing, right?  Our problem is that we often confuse happiness with joy.  Happiness is fleeting.  But joy is deep and abiding.  Joy is different.  Joy is what is in the Light.  Peace is what is in the Light.  They are part of that different Way.

The Philippians are dear to Paul.  They have been generous in supporting his ministry.  But there are numerous challenges to their faith.  Paul is concerned that the church might divide in the face of these conflicts.  There is also concern that the people are being subjected to alternative teachings that might pull them away from the teachings of Jesus.  So, Paul reminds them of the presence of Christ, reminds them of what they are a part.  It’s not a sappy, utopian call to be happy regardless of bad things are going for you.  Bad things happen.  It’s ok to be sad, melancholy, even angry.  Go ahead, throw a fit!  This is not a call to be happy; it is a call to rejoice.  Joy is what comes from knowing that indeed God is here with you, guiding you toward the Light.  It is a peace that surpasses any understanding that the world may have of what fills one’s life and makes it whole.

As we talked about before, God, the Light, is not “out there”.  It is here.  And this eternal peace and this peace that goes beyond all worldly understanding is IN that Light.  Could it be that when we actually embrace joy, actually live in peace, actually act in pure love, it is one of those flashes of Light we talked about before, bringing us closer to seeing the way we are called to see?  The Light is here.  Embracing joy, living in peace, acting in love is the way we know that.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  

Faith transforms the earth into a paradise.  By it our hearts are raised with the joy of our nearness to heaven.  Every moment reveals God to us.  Faith is our light in this life.   (Jean Pierre de Caussade) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

Made Flesh

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Scripture Passage:  John 1: 1-14

1In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

The Word became flesh.  Think about it.  God’s Spirit, God’s breath, the Hebrew language refers to it as ruah, the very essence and being of God was suddenly given flesh and bone and cartilage and hands and feet and all those very human things that we humans require to be here on earth.  In other words, the Divine became human, if only for a while.  That tells us that God does not desire a partner, or a relative, or a close friend.  God desires to live with each of us as one of us.  The miracle of Christmas is not just that God came, although that would be miracle enough.  The miracle of Christmas is that God takes on flesh. 

In The Message paraphrase of the Bible, Eugene Peterson says that “The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood.”  That’s actually a little disconcerting when you think about it.  That means that you’ll see God when you’re out walking your dog or getting your mail.  It means that you’ll run into God in the grocery store when you’re in a terrible hurry and don’t have time. It means that God will show up at your door when the house is a wreck and you are least expecting visitors.

As the Scripture says, in the beginning was God and in the end will be God and in between?  In between, God is with us.  In between, God is one of us.  In between, is us.  That is the very mystery of Christmas.  So what do we do then with a God who is with us?  God is not limited to this sanctuary or to the places in our lives where we’ve sort of cleaned up a bit.  God comes into place of darkness and places of light.  God comes into profound poverty and into gated communities.  God is with us every step of our lives.  God is one of us in our flesh and our bone.  God has moved in.

So, now it’s our move.  I suppose we could just pick up the Christmas decorations and put them back in the box for another year.  I suppose we could just go back to whatever we define as our normal lives.  But the problem is that God is with us.  God lives with us, here, in the neighborhood.  Everywhere we turn, we will meet God—over and over and over again.  And once you’ve met God, you can’t go back to the way it was before.

The problem with God is not that God comes at times that might be a little inconvenient for us; the problem with God is that God never goes away.  God is all over us.  That first Christmas was God’s unveiling, God’s coming out of the darkness and the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  God poured the Divine into the lowliest of humanity, into a dirty animal stall, and began to pick us up so we could walk with God. 

And we are asked to follow.  We are asked to become something new.  We are asked to now become the very reflection of the God that is here everywhere.  Thomas Merton once said that “the Advent mystery is the beginning of the end in all of us that is not yet Christ.”  It’s Christmas.  Now is the time.  Let us go see this thing that has happened.

God is closer to me than I am to myself. (Meister Eckhart)

Thank you for joining me on this Advent journey!  I hope it gave you some hope and some light in this very-hard time in which we live right now.  Now I’m going to take just a small break.  BUT…I’m back in  practice, so I’m going to try to continue (but not every day!).  I’ll continue to post at least once a week around the Lectionary passages and maybe sometimes you’ll get an extra post in a week if I just have something else to say! SO, look for a post Sunday morning or earlier for the Sunday after Christmas and then a post for Epiphany Sunday early next week and that will be our plan for now.  Thanks again for joining me! Have a wonderful Christmas! 

Merry Christmas!

Shelli