I was unable to have children of my own, so holding my nephews, niece and friends’ children over the years has been such a precious bittersweet joy. As time has gone on my grief for myself has largely healed, so that now not every beautifully taut swollen pregnant belly automatically makes me want to cry or propels me from the room. Yet I wonder if there is something about God I will never be able to understand because I am not a parent.
Yet does that necessarily mean that ‘birthing God’ is reduced to being merely a metaphorical spiritual idea? Christians believe God reentered the physical universe by being born as a child. The wonder of that sentence is incalculable. The material laws of the cosmos changed when God’s matter transformed into human flesh. It sounds far fetched I admit. The stuff myths are made of. But if I let the reality of this wonder incarnate in me, surely nothing will ever be impossible again. And that includes what God might want to do, in my life, with my life; how God might want to use me to draw the kingdom of heaven near – now.
However, before that possibility can take root within me, I come to a screeching mental halt: I often struggle hugely with an abiding sense that I am somehow intrinsically unloveable. Intellectually, I know this cannot be true; the love my family and friends show to me gives me practical evidence that this is not truth. Theologically, I absolutely reject the medieval concept of original sin; the experience of holding a new born child convinces me that I too, cannot have been born with that dark baggage. The whole story of Advent reminds me time and again that God has come and is coming into the world, precisely to eliminate that lie of separation.
Sometimes, I so wish I could hold the Christ child in my arms, maybe then I would see in that child the miracle of God wanting to be brought to birth in this very specific way; maybe then I would believe I too am a child of God who is intimately loved and loveable; that God wants me to birth the Beloved into the world around me – now. (And I hear Jesus whisper, “Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe”.)
Despite all the images that surround me at Christmas in the western northern hemisphere there is absolutely nothing sentimental about this birth of Love into Love’s world. God’s birthing continues to be a hard joy, a jagged light, as so many women will testify. There is always an element of danger in birthing no matter how we wrap it up in technology. So too then, I shouldn’t be surprised if God’s birthing in me is hard labour, long and slow in coming, requiring plenty of extensive preparation, and then demanding a long moment of absolute surrender to the process. God asks me to relinquish all my attempts at control to render myself absolutely vulnerable, just as God made the God-self vulnerable to come as a child – by choice. The risks were huge.
But sometimes I hear myself cry, “Lord, does the process have to be quite so long and so hard?”
Just as the Christ-child is made and born vulnerable in flesh, the God-child my Creator makes and bears in me is just as vulnerable in spirit. The risks are huge for this birthing too; not least that I will allow grief to harden into embittered defensiveness, or allow depression to cripple me by convincing me I am utterly alone, or allow chronic ill health to shrink my world so that I no longer seek opportunities for connecting with others or for exercising my creativity. Because even all God’s power did not, and does not, make God invulnerable. God is joyful when I am joyful but equally, God is wounded when I am wounded, because that is the exactly the miracle of the incarnation which is encapsulated in the name Emmanuel: God with us.
In The Dark Night of the Soul psychologist Gerald May takes this idea further, as he reflects on Teresa of Avila’s contemplative vision of ‘the Holy One’s being surrendered to us in love and needing us to love, to be loved by, and to manifest God’s love in the world’. He continues:
Theologically, if God is all-loving – if God is Love – then that love must necessarily temper God’s omnipotence. Love always transforms power, making it something softer, deeper, and richer. Conversely, it may only be in our vulnerability, in or actually being wounded, that love gains its full power. Thus true omnipotence may not be found in a distant and separate power over something or someone, but rather in the intimate experience of being wounded for and with. (197; original emphasis)
God was wounded for me, God is being wounded for me, God is being wounded with me. Out of all the murk of my muddy soul, this feels like the beginnings of a revelation. I may not be a parent but perhaps my experiences of being made vulnerable physically, mentally and spiritually by chronic ill health brings its particular understandings of God’s character with it too. Perhaps me becoming a host-space for God, a Light-bearer, is perhaps not out of the question either.
Perhaps by embracing my vulnerability is how, finally, I learn to live loved.
By Ana Lisa de Jong —
We are stories within a story.
Narratives within the larger Word.
Even while we question meaning or reason,
we have comfort in knowing how it ends.
More than players on a stage,
we have our own self-determination.
We are safe to make decisions and choices,
within the provision of an all-encompassing plan.
Advent reminds us of the eternal story,
in which life and death take turns,
in entering from the wings.
And nothing in this world is ever final
while the Word has the enduring say.
We are stories within a story.
Narratives within the larger Word.
Even while we wonder at the purpose of our griefs,
with relief we keep our trust in joy’s return.
For Advent teaches us the story within the story.
The larger volume and the smallest detail contained.
Held together in a great unfolding scroll
by hands that reach from beginning to end.
Advent recalls to us the gift of waiting.
The treasure held close to Mary’s breast.
The heart already leaps for what isn’t yet,
this comfort is knowing how it ends.
The hope in which we, waiting,
place our faith.
The trust in what we know
has been conceived.
by April Yamasaki —
For Christmas last year I received an amaryllis bulb—the kind that’s shipped in a box with the premixed soil, plastic pot, and step-by-step instructions. Just as directed, I planted the bulb up to its neck in the potting soil and placed the pot in a warm spot with good light. The stem had already started growing while still in the box, so I watered the soil lightly, and hoped the pale growth would turn green as it grew.
The stem did grow and green up a bit, but then it seemed to lose heart. It was too weak to stand up straight and soon had bent double. I hoped a second stem might emerge to produce bright red flowers like the ones shown on the box, but as it turned out I hoped in vain. All I got were leaves—so healthy, dark green, and long and longer that they stretched out beyond the table top, and lasted until the end of October.
I’m disappointed that my amaryllis bulb didn’t flower, but I hope the vigour of its leaves allowed it to store up energy enough to bloom this year. At least that’s what I hope for as my bulb is resting now in a cool, dark closet. Soon it will be time to pot it in fresh soil, bring it into the light, and place it in a warm spot. Will a stem emerge healthy and strong this time? Will there be flowers standing at the top like a brilliant red crown? Or is my green thumb only for the leaves?
This year my amaryllis bulb is my unexpected symbol of Advent. It reminds me that far from being passive, waiting takes some tending. Waiting means watching in expectation. Sometimes waiting leads to more waiting. Just as I wait again in expectation of amaryllis flowers, we are again waiting for Christmas, just as we did last year and the year before and the years before that. We wait for the fullness of time to celebrate the coming of Christ the King.
For some Christians in the early church, the expectation of Christ’s return was so strong and so immediate that they stopped working. Why work to build a house when the Lord will come before you have time to finish? Why work in the fields, when the Lord will come before the harvest? Why bother to make a living when the end is so near? Why not just sit and wait?
And so they sat idle—and became a burden to those in their community who continued to work. To address this, 2 Thessalonians 3:10-13 (NIV) gave these instructions:
For even when we were with you, we gave you this rule: “The one who is unwilling to work
shall not eat.” We hear that some among you are idle and disruptive. They are not busy; they
are busybodies. Such people we command and urge in the Lord Jesus Christ to settle down
and earn the food they eat. And as for you, brothers and sisters, never tire of doing what is
good.
So while I’m waiting for my amaryllis to bloom, while we’re waiting for Christ the King at Christmas and in the fullness of time, I’m taking these words to heart. Let us do the work that God has set before us and never tire of doing good.
by Christine Sine
If we can’t become like children in Advent, there may be no hope for us! Advent is one of the times of the year when there is permission for adults to “play”: decorating our homes, wearing colorful or goofy clothes, and reliving childhood traditions… the season of Advent is an opportunity for adults – including adults without children – tp encounter faith, God and the story of salvation in Christ through the eyes of children. (Advent in Narnia Heidi Haverkamp 22,23)
I am really enjoying my unfamiliar approach to Advent this year, and these words have inspired and energized me as we head towards the half way point of the season. They are a wonderful encouragement to me as I come to the end of a year where The Gift of Wonder has encouraged me to explore childlike practices on a regular basis. This year I have found that my journey through Advent has been a combination of these same childlike explorations with more serious reflection on the realities of God’s world. All of it is stirring my imagination and enriching my faith and understanding of God.
Advent is a time to step into a world of imagination and wonder…. It can require imagination to enter into God’s reality and to experience the Christmas season not as a silly, childish distraction, but as a radical new perspective of faith and the kingdom of God. (Advent in Narnia Heidi Haverkamp 20/21)
These sentiments are well expressed in the latest podcast on A Theology of Hustle I was interviewed for – a fitting one for this pre-Christmas week.
The last week of Advent is always a busy time for us as we do our last minute shopping, get ready for the Christmas pageant at church and attend all those pre-Christmas parties. I do hope that you will also take time to pause each day to enter into the true meaning of the season and thought that you might appreciate the prayers and litanies from past years that we are highlighting on the Godspace Facebook page.
The Grace and Impatience to Wait – Walter Brueggemann
The Mood of Christmas – Howard Thurman
A Christmas Prayer by Henri Nouwen
And still to come:
A Christmas Poem by Madeleine L’Engle
A Christmas Prayer by John Henry Newman
Amazing Peace – A Christmas Poem by Maya Angelou
At The End of The Year – by John O’Donohue
A Litany for the Fourth Sunday of Advent
I also thought that some of you would enjoy revisiting my Advent video Leaning Towards the Light. It contains amazing photos by Craig Goodwin and Tom Balke (Title photo) and beautiful music by Jeff Johnson.
Produced and written by Christine Sine.
The music is “Antiphon” from the CD, ANTIPHON by the Coram Deo Ensemble. Music by Janet Chvatal, Jeff Johnson & Brian Dunning
℗© 2011 Sola Scriptura Songs / ArkMusic.com
Used with permission. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
NOTE: As an Amazon Associate I receive a small amount for purchases made through appropriate links. Thank you for supporting Godspace in this way.
By Michael Moore —
When we were on our Ignatian Silent Retreat at Spring Hill College this past June, I spent a lot of time with this painting of Mary, the Mother of Jesus in the old wood framed Sodality Chapel. This portrait was painted by Spring Hill Alumnae and Mobile, AL Artist, Stephanie Morris. The model was a Spring Hill College student. As I spent time with Mary, her eyes truly reached out and spoke to my heart and soul.
This is the final sermon in the series on The Women in Jesus’s Genealogy. Three of the women were not in his Genealogy but their stories were well worth exploring. I have explored the stories and contemplated the lives of Eve (Denise preached that sermon), Ruth, Rahab, Bathsheba, The Canaanite Woman at the Well, Mary Magdalene, and now Mary, the Mother of Jesus.
As I have written and preached before, Mary is often problematic for Protestants. In part the difficulty is in the way she is elevated in the Catholic Church. Yet many Catholic folks I know don’t believe she should be elevated to the level of God any more than Protestants do. Yet as a part of the Reformation, Mary was pretty much thrown out all together. My own journey as a Presbyterian with Mary has been challenging as well as enlightening. I have come to a deeper understanding of Mary. I truly admire her and have learned much from sitting with her. So, let’s get to the subject of this final reflection in this series.
The two scripture readings that I am using tomorrow bookend the life of Jesus. In Luke 2:33-35 we hear the following somber news after Simeon blesses Jesus. In context, Jesus was brought to the Temple by his parents. Simeon was overjoyed that the long-awaited Messiah had finally come and he was alive to see it.
And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” – Luke 2:33-35
Can you imagine? As I think about Mary hearing the last part of the blessing on top of all that she had heard at Jesus’s birth I am overwhelmed! A sword will pierce your own soul too!
As we remember the birth narrative, we can see how Mary’s life with Joseph didn’t exactly begin normally. They didn’t have a typical betrothal. The gossip must have flown around as she began to show and as the story of God overshadowing her came out. At one point, Joseph even considered quietly divorcing her. Yet God interceded through the angelic visitors and they found their way forward as a couple.
In the birth narrative, following the visits of the Shepherds and their stories of angels, she pondered all that she had seen and heard in her heart. Forty days later the family goes to the Temple for what should be the standard purification of Mary following the birth of Jesus. Joseph and Mary were also supposed to present and dedicate their first-born son to God in order to fulfill the law in Exodus 13.
As I said earlier, when the 40-day old infant Jesus was presented to Simeon and he immediately proclaimed his joy in a very familiar passage of Scripture.
Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God: God, you can now release your servant; release me in peace as you promised. With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation; it’s now out in the open for everyone to see: A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations, and of glory for your people Israel. – Luke 2:29-32 (The Message Translation)
There was so much for Mary to ponder in those early days. There would be so much more to ponder as Jesus grew from a baby to a young boy and finally into a man. Yet lurking in the back of her mind must have been the words of Simeon: a sword will pierce your own soul too.
Scripture is quiet when it comes to the growing up years of Jesus. After the incident in the Temple where the twelve-year-old Jesus was amazing the religious leaders, we hear nothing about his life until he appears as a part of the crowd following John the Baptist and asks John to baptize him.
The three years of Jesus’s public ministry must have provided much to contemplate and be concerned about for his mother. More and more was poured into her heart as she followed Jesus, listened to his teaching, and watched the miracles.
Yet in the end, as the road led to Jerusalem for the final time her heart must have been heavy. As the intrigue unfolded did she remember the words of Simeon? Did she feel a pain and a piercing beginning in her heart?
The second reading from John 19:25b-30 is, I believe where her heart was pierced and broken as she watched her son dying an agonizing death on the cross. I can’t even imagine the pain as Jesus looked down from the cross and said goodbye to his mother. Yet in the midst of the pain, there was a loving and tender moment as he made sure that the woman who had given birth to him and raised him would be cared for.
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. – John 19:25b-27
The story has come full circle and now, with her son dying on the cross, her heart was pierced in a way it had never been pierced before. It was with this woman that I spent so much time reflecting in the Chapel at Spring Hill College. As I used the Ignatian practice of placing myself into the story, I felt her pain in a way I had never done before. During that week, I came to know Mary in a way that I hadn’t in the majority of my years in ministry.
As I looked into her eyes, I saw the pain and the peace. A wise woman who was forced to learn such harsh lessons at an early age. A woman who had to watch helplessly as the Empire executed her son. A woman who had to watch as the faith community turned its back on Jesus, and in essence, on her as well.
As I sat with her in the Chapel and as I have continued to do ever since, I felt a peace that I didn’t expect. As I sat with her, I heard her say “I am not God. I am the Mother of Jesus. Don’t worship me. Listen to me and learn from my story.”
May we do that as we consider Mary and the place she holds in the life of Jesus and in our own faith journey as well.
Friends,
Christine and I Wish You a Joyous Christmas and A New Year Filled With Hope!
You can smell the Scottish Short Bread Christine is baking to celebrate this season with members of our Mustard Seed House Community and many good friends in the Seattle area. One of our favorite things is hosting friends and family over the the holidays for the rich range of Christmas yummies that Christine prepares. Our holiday punch will be made from the apple cider she made from our over 400 pounds of apples this year.
As Christine and Goldie and I race into a new year we have so much to celebrate. First we are grateful to God that we seem to be growing in both our appreciation for one another, our gratitude to God for the opportunity extend hospitality to others. We are celebrating 27 great years together and our life together just seems to keep getting better. We suspect one of the factors is taking a two day retreat four times a year to review how we are doing and to set new goals. Would appreciate prayers for our next retreat right after Christmas.
I am personally celebrating that Christine’s new book, The Gift of Wonder is helping so many people reporting that it is helping them find a very fresh approach to prayer. For those living in Denver and Southern Cal Christine will be coming your way:
Denver- The Refuge– January 12, 2020 2:30-4:30
Los Angles- Mary & Joseph Retreat Centre – February 15, 2020
Torrance- Life Covenant Church- February 16, 2020
San Diego – Cultivate Conference- February 20-22, 2020
I am also celebrating a growing relationship with a good friend this season Dwight Friesen who is a professor at the Seattle School of Theology and Psychology. We appreciate your prayers as we are exploring some ways to collaborate together.
Dwight and I are both increasingly concerned, as we gallop into this new decade of the 2020s that we are not just living in normal changing times but that the rate of change seems to be accelerating at a concerning rate. We are also growing divisiveness in so many of our communities as well. We are looking for new innovations that offer a little hope in times like theses. Can you send us your ideas?
Looking Back
I (Christine) am grateful for the wonderful opportunities we have had this year to enjoy friends and family around the world. I have particularly enjoyed the thrill of becoming a great aunt for several new arrivals starting with Lucy Aroney, born to my nephew Matt and his wife Kass just after Christmas. This was rapidly followed by twins to Matt’s sister Lauren and May born to my good friend Cheryl’s son Wade and his wife Abbey. Though I am not an official aunt to May, my close bond to Cheryl certainly makes me feel like one.
As a very special treat Matt and Kass brought Lucy to visit us in June and then we were able to travel to Australia in November, not just to meet the new family members but to have time with all the family. It was a very special time with much laughter, fun and celebration. Like Tom I am grateful for the joy of our relationship that I think increases the joy and delight in celebrations like these.
In April we also had a special visit to Beacon New York to spend time with Tom’s family. Unfortunately the celebrations revolved around a memorial for his younger brother Jack who died earlier in the year, but it as is so often the case, it takes an event like this to bring the whole family together.
In August we spent a wonderful week on Vancouver Island at Tofino and Ucluelet with our good friends Tom and Kim, little realizing that their lives were about to change forever. In September Kim had a heart transplant and is still slowly recovering.
Advent is about waiting for the coming of Christ in whom one day all will be made whole again. As we celebrate the joy of new life in the midst of illness and death we hold onto this hope with a deep longing.
Tom and Christine and Goldie
by Christine Sine
I have been walking through Advent against a backdrop of horror at the fires devastating large portions of Australia. Friends and relatives in Sydney are wearing respirators to filter out the toxic smoke. Schools are cancelling outdoor sports. Koalas are burning probably to the point of extinction. And the pall of smoke is seen as far away as South America.
Who will protect this country I love I wonder? I so admire the fire fighters, many of them volunteers who risk their lives daily to try and bring the flames under control. Even the embers can be deadly. They can travel up to 30 miles on the wind and start a new fire. Such backbreaking work and without them the situation would be far worse.
Mary waited for the birth of her baby as a very vulnerable expectant mother as I talked about last week. The violence of Roman occupation must have been very real for her. The possible violence of her own culture who stoned adulterous women must have been even more real. Who protected her? Who made sure that she was safe throughout her pregnancy and the days after Jesus birth?
Icon — Mary and Elizabeth
First there was Elizabeth. I really think that she was Mary’s safe person to visit after she found out she was pregnant. But more than anyone there was Joseph. I talked about him in my post last year Is Joseph the Unsung Hero of the Advent Story. I thin that my changing emphasis on Joseph has been so important for me this year that I thought I decided just to repeat a lot of that post this year. I hope you don’t mind.
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According to New Testament theologian Kenneth Bailey, we misinterpret Matthew 1:20 “As he considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream. “Joseph, son of David,” the angel said, “do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. For the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit” He says “he considered this” should be translated “he became angry” and planned not to marry her. Not an unexpected reaction for a righteous man who finds his betrothed is pregnant by another”man”.
The amazing thing is that Joseph changed his mind because of a dream. How easily he could have ignored the angel. His acceptance of Mary and the baby she carried had consequences not just for her reputation but for his too. From the viewpoint of those around either the child was his and he was not quite as just and righteous as they previously thought or the child was someone else’s and he was a fool to accept Mary. He would have been” just” in condoning her stoning. Yet he stood by her. What courage it must have taken to stand against the culture of his day.
I love the way that Kenneth Bailey talks about Joseph. In his wonderful book Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes talks about Joseph.
In his cameo appearance, Matthew presents Joseph as a human being of remarkable spiritual stature. He possessed the boldness, daring, courage and strength of character to stand up against his entire community and take Mary as his wife. He did so in spite of the forces that no doubt wanted her stoned. His vision of justice stayed his hand. In short he was able to reprocess his anger into grace. (46)
That Joseph’s extraordinary love protected and surrounded Mary and eventually Jesus continues to be seen as the story unfolds. The trip to Bethlehem, the flight into Egypt, his teaching of Jesus to be a carpenter are all indications of his love and care.
Once again Kenneth Bailey helps me understand:
… in the Middle East, men usually represent their families in any official or legal matters. Why did Joseph take Mary with him to Bethlehem for the registration? The easiest explanation is that he was unsure what might happen to her if he left her in Nazareth without his presence to protect her. It behooves us to see Joseph as the hero of the story without whose courage and understanding of the prophets there would have been no Christmas story to tell. (46)
What Is Your Response?
Take a few minutes to contemplate the Rip Carwell’s sculpture above. Pay particular attention to Joseph standing behind Mary. Imagine Joseph as a courageous and loving man, supporting Mary by standing against the law of his culture. What are your thoughts as you gaze on this image? How does it change your impression of Joseph and his place in the story of Jesus.
Now take a few minutes to think about your own father. Some of us have loving fathers and it is not hard for us to imagine them standing in support of our mothers when they were pregnant with us. Others have less loving impressions. The abuse and violence of my own father meant that I ignored Joseph for a long time. I also ignored the loving gestures my father made towards me. When I was premature infant in a baby incubator it was my father who brought the milk my mother expressed to the hospital each day. It was my father who provided a home and food. As I look at this image I can imagine his love for me and my mother, even though he was rarely able to express it.
Who else has been a father to you? For those of us who don’t have loving fathers to look back at, God often provides substitutes, loving friends or relatives who take the place of fathers and help us create healthy images of a father’s love. I suspect that Joseph did this for Jesus. The stories of his conception by the power of the Holy Spirit must have created distant father images for Jesus, extraordinary as his knowledge of God was. Was it Joseph who formed early impressions of a God of love for Jesus before he fully understood who he was? Was it Joseph who provided loving images that made it possible for him to call God “Abba” and became stories of the warm welcome for prodigal sons? Obviously we do not know but it warms my heart to think of these possibilities.
Now watch the video below. What else comes to mind as you think about Joseph singing a lullaby to Jesus? Is there a response that God is asking of you?
Last but not least, consider the vulnerable people in our world today – the marginalized, the powerless, the homeless, the refugees, those living in poverty or being abused, those discriminated against because of race, sexual orientation, religion. Who protects them from an unjust world? Are there ways that God might being asking us to be their protectors at this season of the year?
Prayerfully consider what God might ask you to do at this Advent season to become a protector for the vulnerable.
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