Here we are, at the end of 2012, looking at the “year in review” pictures and wondering about what 2013 will bring to us in terms of trials and tribulations, as well as excitement and joy.  The last days of the old year and the first days of the new give us the chance to take stock of where we’ve been, and to look forward to new opportunities that will come.  Perhaps we’ll even make a resolution or two in hopes of making some changes in our lives.

While many of us don’t do too well with New Year’s resolutions, there is value in setting life goals and in receiving wisdom from others who have walked this path before us. As a woman of many opinions, I’ve got plenty of advice I could share, but decided to draw upon two gems of counsel that came my way many years ago. They both come in the form of images – one of five letters scrawled across a blackboard, and the other of an elderly woman climbing into a van.

The first is from my 11^th grade history teacher, Mr. Alfred Scipione. His favorite phrase to his teen-age charges was:  ‘Keep your sunny side up.”  I don’t remember much about Mr. Scipione, but, thanks to the marvels of the Internet, I discovered that his personal history matched his counsel. He faced serious childhood illness, dreamed of unreachable baseball stardom, was turned down for WWII military service, and had a son who was wounded in Viet Nam. Yet here he stood in front of his class, day after day, and taught us how to face life: “Keep your sunny side up.”

He may have hijacked this life motto from the song of the same name, written by Johnny Hamp, with music by Buffalo native Ray Henderson.  Recorded shortly after the stock market crash in 1929, it featured this undistinguished line: “Stand upon your legs, be like two fried eggs, keep your sunny side up.” Regardless of the origin of his counsel, it became a classroom legend – we received tests or papers back with KYSSU proclaimed in bold letters, it appeared upon the chalkboard daily, and was mentioned at least once per class period. The message came across loud and clear: you can choose how to face life!

The second nugget of wisdom comes from Brigadier Elizabeth Earl, a retired Salvation Army officer collected donations at the A&P in our first assignment in Dover, New Jersey. She was quite a character, large both in physical appearance and in spiritual presence, and her words of comfort and courage lifted us up on many an overwhelming day in the life of a rookie Salvation Army officer. Since she had no car, Larry and/or I would pick her up in the 15 passenger van, and invariably, as she took aim for the heights of the passenger seat, she’d hitch up her skirt to ease her climb and say, “fix your eyes on the Lord, son.”

O, my dear Elizabeth, you don’t know how many times I’ve thought of your words. You may jokingly have wanted to spare my husband from seeing your elephantine legs in all their glory, but your words echo through the decades. “Fix your eyes on the Lord.” Now I know that not everyone shares the same religious convictions that Elizabeth and I do, but her words strike home to all of us. Fix your eyes on what you believe in – higher power, convictions, faith. Set your sights on the goal. Keep your eye on the prize. Don’t get distracted from what matters most to you. Focus.

Maya Angelou reminds us: “Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.” I’m grateful that I can still hear Mr. Scipione with his trace of a South Philly accent urging, “keep your sunny side up,” and the old Brigadier commanding us on with a twinkle in her eye, “fix your eyes on the Lord, son.” Can’t ask for better wisdom at the start of a new year.   

An Echo from the Rooftop

The request comes frequently on my days with our granddaughter. “Sing Christmas song, Nana.” The whole idea of Christmas is absolutely fascinating to the lovely Madelyn Simone, now celebrating her third Christmas with us, and the tree, the cookies, the lights, and the songs all bring a sparkle to her eyes and a sense of amazement to my heart. One of her favorite songs is “Up on the Housetop,” possibly because of the motions that accompany it, especially the part where she says, “ho, ho, ho” and pats her belly like Santa. (Note: I have spared her from the family favorite, Twelve Days of Christmas with motions – small children need to be protected from some long-standing traditions).

I must admit that the Santa story does sound a bit far-fetched, especially the part where Santa enters the house by way of the chimney. Reindeers pawing on housetops around the world also stretch the imagination quite a bit, but I do have an actual Christmas Eve roof experience that holds a cherished place in my memory.  As a young teen-ager, I had the privilege of being part of a quasi-angelic choir on the roof of the First Presbyterian Church on Broad Street in Tonawanda, NY. A flat-roofed connector building joined the solid church house with the brand-new sanctuary, and the choir director decided to greet the late-night worshippers with carols from above as they arrived.  

I was new to this ensemble, finally old enough to advance to the ranks of the senior choir, and what a thrill it was to lift our voices in song to the heavens. It – the wonder of Christmas – truly did come upon a midnight clear that night. The air was crisp and cold with a few snowflakes drifting onto our shoulders – no Buffalo blizzard for once, only the gentle kiss of winter.

From a distance of more than forty years, I still remember the look of awe on the faces of our brothers and sisters as they lifted their eyes to the roof that evening. Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation – surely those words took on new meaning on that wintery night.

Unfortunately, our roof-top recital was never repeated – more prudent voices whispered about the weight load on the roof amidst worries of voided contractor warranties. But for one brief shining moment, we stood amidst the heavens and proclaimed the glorious message: Joy to the world, the Lord has come. Let earth receive her King! Let every heart prepare Him room. Surely, heaven, nature and the First Presbyterian Church choir sang out the good news on that long-ago starry night.

That Christmas Eve stands out in my spiritual memory as being what the Celts call liminal space or “thin space,” that time/place where God seems especially present, where earth nearly touches heaven.  We stumble upon these thin spaces, sometimes in church, sometimes in nature, and sometimes in the rocking chair as we whisper a lullaby to a “precious wee bairn.” In our overly planned world, we discover that such “thin space” can’t be orchestrated – they can only be received. Ready or not, they come, and only ask that we be present to the mystery.

I come to Christmas Eve 2012 longing for such a thin space, for myself, for our community, and for our country. We’ve lived through tragic moments, a contentious election, an ancient end-of-the-world prediction, and the losses that come with being human. In the shadow of the Newtown massacre, it feels like it has been a very long year. I long for the silence of the night, for a glimpse of the wondrous gift that’s been given, and even for a rustle of angel wings.

 

While we can’t force “thin space” to appear, we can invite its presence, as we pause by the Tree of Memory that’s been created at Corner Park, as we share in the gathering together of our faith traditions, and as we light a candle in the darkness. And as I enter the sanctuary for Christmas Eve worship, I’m going to look upward and listen for an echo from the rooftop.

 May your Christmas be blessed with grace and thin spaces.         

 

Advent Prayer for December 23

Come to My Heart

Emily E. Elliot (1864)

 

Thou didst leave thy throne and thy kingly crown,

When thou camest to earth for me,

But in Bethlehem’s home there was found no room,

For thy holy nativity. 

O Come to my heart, Lord Jesus,

There is room in my heart for thee

 

            The theme is a common one in literature, fairy tales and film – the prince lives in the guise of a pauper, or the child born to royalty is hidden among commoners or under a spell.  In the 21^st century kid’s film genre, there is even a Barbie movie where the princess and the popstar change places. In the movies it’s a fun experiment, but the stakes were tremendously higher in the sacred drama of the incarnation. 

The willingness to exchange the throne of heaven for a life of rejection and sorrow on earth is the hard-to-believe part of the gospel from a human perspective.  Why would the Almighty God of the universe send his son to a time and place where he wouldn’t be received as deity?  As written in the gospel of John, “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him” (John 1:10-11).

            From our human view, we can’t understand why this would have to be.  Why was there no room in the inn, why was the son of God despised and rejected?  No, we can’t fathom why God would choose this for his only son.  We can only accept with gratitude the gift that it was – and is - to us.  Because, as John continues to tell us, “Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God” (John 1:12).  That is the wonder, the amazing grace of the incarnation. 

 

Prayer Focus: the incarnation

 

Advent Prayer for December 22

A Christmas Prayer

Robert Louis Stevenson (19^th century)

 

Loving God, Help us remember the birth of Jesus,
that we may share in the song of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
and worship of the wise men.
Close the door of hate
and open the door of love all over the world.
Let kindness come with every gift and

good desires with every greeting.
Deliver us from evil by the blessing which Christ brings,
and teach us to be merry with clear hearts.
May the Christmas morning make us happy to be thy children,
and Christmas evening bring us to our beds with grateful thoughts,
forgiving and forgiven, for Jesus' sake.  Amen.

 

Stevenson’s prayer is one worth repeating.  What a privilege to share in the song of the angels, to be able to shout, “Glory to God in the highest.”  How exciting to experience the thrill of the shepherds as they ran to the stable and discovered the baby Jesus.  How we long to worship at the manger of Christ as did the wise men, offering our gifts to him.

Yes, Christmas is a time of rejoicing, and we long to be part of the sacred response of the ages, with love from that stable pouring out into the world.  That’s the joyous hope as we celebrate Christmas year after year.

Yet we cannot leave this prayer without noting the last phrase, so striking in its description of the one who is praying:  forgiving and forgiven.  Yes, kindness, good desires, merry hearts and grateful thoughts are good gifts to be received..  But without the forgiveness that comes through the incarnation, and the forgiving that we offer one to another on a daily basis, we are missing the redemptive reason for the birth.

 

Prayer Focus: forgiveness

Advent Prayer for December 21

Come, Come, Jesus, I Await You
Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli (20^th century)

I am a poor shepherd; I have only a wretched stable,

a small manger, some wisps of straw.

I offer all these to you, be pleased to come into my poor hovel.

I offer you my heart; my soul is poor and bare of virtues,

the straws of so many imperfections will prick you and make you weep—

but oh, my Lord, what can you expect?

This little is all I have. . . .

I have nothing better to offer you, Jesus,

 honour my soul with your presence, adorn it with your graces.

Burn this straw and change it into a soft couch

for your most holy body.

This prayer, excerpted from the words of a man who would one day be Pope John XXIII, is a mirror into the soul of the young Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli.  “The straws of so many imperfections will prick you and make you weep.”  Ah, that is a man who  is seeking the heart of God, who knows his own heart’s failings and the pain those imperfections will bring to God.

The image is powerful – we’ve felt the pricks and stabs of the straw on a hayride, and cringe at the thought of a baby pillowed in a bed of straw – especially the straw of our own making. 

It is an encouragement to our hearts that the offerings of that poor shepherd, the 4^th-born child of a sharecropper with his wisps of straw, were so adorned with the grace of God that he became a beloved pope as well as a courageous leader. 

So it can be for us as well, when we name the straw that brings tears to the eyes of Jesus, and then bring that straw in repentance, offering what little we have to God.    

 

Prayer Focus:  our wisps of straw

Advent Prayer for Dec. 20

Moonless Darkness Stands Between

Gerard Manley Hopkins (19^th century)

 

Moonless darkness stands between.

Past, the Past, no more be seen!

But the Bethlehem star may lead me

To the sight of Him who freed me

From the self that I have been.

Make me pure, Lord: Thou art holy;

Make me meek, Lord: Thou wert lowly;

Now beginning, and always,

Now begin, on Christmas day.

 

            As Manley suggests in the last line of his prayer, the marking of a holy day such as Christmas can provide the impetus to a new beginning, a beginning in which the past is no more seen.  We know that we need not wait for any special day to pray a prayer of repentance, but Christmas can become a time when our hearts are stirred to seek after the purity and holiness of Christ in a way we have not done before.

             The danger is that the coming of Christmas will find us far from that awareness, with a hectic pace that tempts us to add one more purchase or one more party to our already overburdened lives.  While Hopkins never experienced a 21^st century lifestyle, his reminder of the role of the Bethlehem star in his own experience of freedom can be ours as well.  We can be freed from “the self that I have been,” particularly when that self is far from pure, far from meek.  ‘Would you be free from your burden of sin?” the songwriter asks.  There is “power in the blood,” power in the One who came in the light of the Bethlehem star.

             

Prayer Focus:  freedom to be Christ’s

 

Bye, bye, Lully, Lullay.

The lovely Madelyn Simone’s book-of-the-week is King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub. In this charming narrative, the king is in the bathtub and won’t get out. As the members of his court try to coax him out of the tub, the oft-repeated line is simple: “who knows what to do?” When we read these pages together, Madelyn often echoes that question: what to do, Nana, what to do?

Reeling from the reports of tragedy from Newtown, Connecticut, that question has been on our lips often this past week. How could anyone enter a school and kill twenty elementary-age children and the adults attempting to protect them? Who knows what to do?

Our feeble attempts at making sense of this tragedy have flooded the airwaves, the newspaper pages, and the Internet.  We’ve talked about it at the dinner table, in line at the grocery store, and from the pulpits of our churches. Why? Who knows what to do?

 

A chilling commentary came from Howard Kurtz of the Washington Post. "It doesn't mean that everybody doesn't get a feeling in their gut when they hear that a bunch of innocent people have died at the hands of one crazy gunman, but it is no longer a story that we've never heard before. So there’s a certain ritual to it – we know what to expect.” The endless babble of the talking heads, the comfort of the president, the vigil candles, the mental health experts with minimal answers, the makeshift altars of memory – there is a recognizable feel to this. We’ve been here before.

 

And so close to Christmas. In the slaughter of these innocents, a shadow has fallen across the morning of December 25. Yet it’s a shadow with a familiar cast for those who’ve read the postscript to the visit of the Magi who traversed field and fountain, moor and mountain to follow a star of wonder. In the midst of the joy to the world that celebrates the coming of the Christ-child, we shiver in this verse from Matthew 2:  ^“When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi.”

While we have a myriad of Christmas carols about the babe in a manger, we seldom sing about babies in a morgue.  The closest we come are a few lines tucked away in the third verse of the haunting Coventry Carol. Herod, the king, in his raging, Charged he hath this day His men of might, in his own sight, All young children to slay.

In the face of this ageless pattern of tragedy, I cannot get away from Madelyn’s question – what to do, Nana, what to do? We begin with what teacher Janet Vollmer did for the children in her Sandy Hook classroom in the aftermath of the shooting; “We just held them close until their parents came." We hold our children close. We assure them of our love and our protection. We pray. We keep vigil in silence. We grieve with those who mourn.

But this cannot be enough.  One Canadian friend posted this on his Facebook page: “Why is America silent about the slaughter of their hope (their children)?”  I was livid when I read his words. How dare he say that about my country, about me?  But in the long shadow of Columbine and the raw silhouette of Sandy Hook, we must prove him wrong. The hard questions of mental health treatments and policies must be raised. We must weep and wail, we must rail against the impotence of gun control legislation and the acceptance of a culture of violence. We must remember. This Christmas, we must sing the Coventry Carol.  

 Matthew quotes the prophet Jeremiah in his report of the ancient slaughter of the innocents: “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” A voice is now heard in Newtown , and we must refuse to be comforted. Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

 

An Advent Prayer for December 19th

Balulalow

James, John and Robert Wedderbrun (16^th century)

 

O my dear heart, young Jesus sweet,

Prepare thy cradle in my spirit.

And I shall rock thee in my heart

And never more from thee depart.

But I shall praise thee evermore

With songs sweet to thy glory,

The knees of my heart shall I bow,

And sing that right Balulalow

 

The Celts speak of liminal space or “thin space,” that time/place where God seems especially present, where earth nearly touches heaven.  We stumble upon these thin spaces, sometimes in church, sometimes in nature, and sometimes in the rocking chair as we whisper a lullaby to a “precious wee bairn.” 

It is a “thin space” lullaby that makes up this prayer of the Wedderbrun brothers. Balulalow is Scottish for lullaby, making this prayer/poem a lullaby to the Christ child.  I love the intimacy: “I shall rock thee in my heart.”  The rhythm of the heartbeat, the rhythm of the rocking chair, combine to create a settled sense of time, of presence.

I picture the young mother Mary, rocking her babe as she is propped against a mound of hay in the stable, or cradling her son in the dark of night on the road to Egypt, once more holding the words of Gabriel deep within.  It is that image that I cling to, as I open my heart to this babe, this redeemer, this savior.   

With Mary I sing, I pray, the knees of my heart bow: Balulalow, Jesus, balualow.     

 

Prayer Focus:  every knee shall bow

Advent Prayer for December 18

A Clear Light

Hildegard of Bingen (12^th century)

 

The Word made flesh for us gives us the greatest hope
that the murky night of darkness will not overwhelm us,
but we shall see the daylight of eternity.

Lord, let us receive your clear light; be for us such a mirror of light
that we may be given grace to see you unendingly.

If we are overcome, you have the power to forgive us;
Therefore, in my sin I call on you, my Lord, my Light, for help.
For you were sent into the world to enlighten my heart,
to nurture true repentance and to make the Holy Spirit’s
work grow more powerfully in me.

With the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign forever!

 

            Have you ever been overwhelmed by the murky night of darkness?  Gloomy, misty, cloudy, muddy, dim, overshadowed?  There is a darkness of night that is glorious, when the sky is clear, the stars are brilliant, and the moon shines as a crescent of light and hope.  But then there are the murky nights, when the air is as heavy as our hearts, and clouds cover any hope of illumination. 

            The incarnation, Hildegard claims, brings a clear, true light that calls us to action – to call upon God in the midst of the murkiness, to look into our hearts with a sense of enlightenment that comes through the Spirit of God, and to nurture true repentance, not just one of confession but one of a turning from sin, a new path, a clean heart.  We no longer can be content with the funhouse mirror that distorts our likeness – no, we long for the mirror of light that will allow us to see clearly and respond in faith.

 

Prayer Focus:  enlightened hearts

Advent Prayer for December 17

Nativity Prayer of St. Augustine

St. Augustine of Hippo (5^th century)

 

Let the just rejoice,
for their justifier is born.
Let the sick and infirm rejoice,
For their Saviour is born.
Let the captives rejoice,
For their Redeemer is born.
Let slaves rejoice,
for their Master is born.
Let free men rejoice,
For their Liberator is born.
Let All Christians rejoice,
For Jesus Christ is born.

 

            In this ancient prayer, Augustine challenges the pray-er to rejoice in phrases that connect with their individual place in life.  While one human being cannot be all things to all people, Jesus can.  Think on these today. Are you standing in righteousness today?  It is only because Christ has made you just before the Father.  Are you struggling?  Your Saviour brings you his saving grace.  Are you bound in some way, taken captive by desires, addictions, and tenacious habits?  There is one who redeems you.

            Even for those who are bound in slavery – through abusive marriages, through human trafficking, through economic bondage, or through besetting sin – Jesus stands ready to be your Master.  And, as Augustine reminds us, even for the one who sees himself/herself as a free person, it is because of liberation in Christ.

            Yes, today is a day of rejoicing.  In Christ, God meets us where we are and provides just what we need for the day.  That’s a hallelujah moment for sure.

 

Prayer Focus: rejoice!

O Christmas Tree

A translation of the second verse of O Tannenbaum gives us these significant words: “O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree! Much pleasure thou can'st give me.” It’s likely that most Americans have fond memories of the Christmas tree, with its spreading branches and twinkling lights. But it’s quite possible that you, like me, have had some less than pleasurable experiences with the evergreens of Christmas.

As a young family, we began the tradition of cutting our own Christmas tree with a vision steeped in the scent of mulled cider and the dusting of snowflakes in the air.  We’d bundle the kids into the station wagon whether they wanted to go or not, determined to ‘make a memory’ that they’d cherish into adulthood. Despite muddy boots and cranky attitudes, we did succeed at creating a lasting memory in our final attempt at cutting our own tree, but it took quite a few days for our classic tree story to develop.

Upon our return home the tree waited expectantly for a number of days in our backyard, and I finally decided to get that lonely tree up and decorated, with or without the help of anyone else.  So with Christmas carols blaring, I wrestled it into the house, battled with the cantankerous three-legged tree stand, and triumphantly raised the tree to its full height – about a foot too high for our family room. 

So now what?  My husband was busy with the Salvation Army kettles, the boys at 6 and 4 were absorbed with their G.I. Joes, and I was determined to finish what I’d started.  Well, I’m a carpenter’s daughter, so how hard could it be to saw off a section of the trunk and a couple of lower branches?  Bad question.  After what seemed like hours of sawing, there was only a faint line around the trunk.  Plan B – what if I cut off the top of the tree, removed a few inches of the trunk where I could actually cut through it, and then somehow wired the top back on? 

The idea was doomed from the start, but I was desperate by that point, so did the dastardly deed.  An hour and yards of duct tape and garland later, I stood back and thought, ‘hmm, that’s barely noticeable.’  Right.  That’s why there is a chapter in the annals of the Shade family history entitled The Year Mom Cut Off the Top of the Christmas Tree, right before The Year We Bought an Artificial Tree.

That modest artificial tree served us well for 25 years, finding a comfortable corner in our homes in Philadelphia, Cleveland, Canton, and Ashland.  My husband did the honors of carrying it up from the basement, ready to coax it into shape for the Christmas celebration of 2012, but its bare and rather bedraggled branches stood unadorned in the living room for a few days, reminiscent of the tree of old in the backyard.

Before the tree decorating elf squeezed us into her schedule, I discovered that among the silent auction items at the United Way’s Holiday Happenings were five freshly cut Christmas trees, each trussed up like a turkey, ready to find a home for the holidays. Should I or shouldn’t I?   

Yes, I bought a real Christmas tree, sight unseen. Determined to surprise my family, I snuck it into the house while they were at the Jingle Bell Ball and set to work. Only one problem – our tree stand was the wrong size. So after a quick dash to the hardware store, it was déjà vu – one determined woman, one Christmas tree, and a stand with a warning sign: “do not use a hammer” – they must have seen me coming. But by the time the ball was over, the tree stood in our bay window, fragrant and beautiful.

The writer of the carol was right after all – O Christmas tree - much pleasure thou can’st give me.  The vision of the Christmas tree encircled with light, the wistfulness of memory, and the gratification of accomplishment (with no hammer, saw or duct tape) – all bring a sense of delight to our hearts. Indeed, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!      

 

 

In the Bleak Midwinter

Christina G. Rossetti (19^th century)

 

What can I give him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man,
I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give him —
Give my heart.

 

            Often used as a stand-alone quotation, Rossetti’s ‘what can I give him’ verse was the 5^th stanza of the poem and carol, In the Bleak Midwinter.  Her simple question continues to be one of significance:  What can I give him?  From the perspective of the one with no lamb and none of the riches of the Magi, empty hands seem unable to bring a gift of value to the Saviour.  

            Yet even for those of us who are able to bring a material item of value to the manger of the Christ Child, Rossetti’s answer becomes the one of most value – ‘give my heart.’   Because in the end, what can we truly give to Christ?  After all, all that we have comes to us from God. 

As Frances Havergal suggests in her beloved hymn, we can give (offer to God for the taking) our moments, our days, our hands, our feet, our voices, our lips, our silver and gold, and our intellect.  Yet she too concludes with Rossetti.  It is the self that remains ours to give, and that becomes the most precious, the most profound gift to the Christ:

 

Take my will, and make it Thine; it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart, it is Thine own; it shall be Thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord, I pour at Thy feet its treasure store.
Take myself, and I will be ever, only, all for Thee.     

 

Prayer Focus:  take my life

 

 

Advent Prayer for December 14

DECEMBER 14

 

O Little Town of Bethlehem

Philip Brooks (1867)

 

O holy Child of Bethlehem,

Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin, and enter in,

Be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels

The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,

Our Lord Emmanuel!

 

            It is often in the songs of our faith that our corporate prayers are most fully lifted to heaven.  In this familiar carol, Brooks uses simple phrases to speak to the desire of our hearts:  descend to us, cast out our sin, enter in, be born in us, come to us, abide with us. 

            What strikes me in these words is that this is what God is already doing, has already done, in the birth and the resurrection.  Jesus descended – “he made himself nothing” (Phil. 2:7).  He came to take away the sins of the world (John 1:29).  He became Emmanuel, God with us (Matthew 1:23).  He is born in us (John 3:16).  He has come to us (John 1:14), and he promises to abide with us (John 15).  

            Yet these words remain prayers of petition, of invitation in the present.  Even as all of these actions were completed through the incarnation of Christ, they remain a welcome to be extended, a choice to be made day by day in the lives of seekers, of followers, of the faithful.  Descend, cast out, enter, be born, come, abide.  

            In the seldom-used fourth verse of Brooks’ original carol, he reminds us of the approach to these prayers: “faith holds wide the door.”  O holy Child of Bethlehem, this we pray, in faith believing.  Amen. 

 

Prayer Focus:  open doors

Advent Prayer for December 13

Christmas Prayer

W.E.B. DuBois (1910)

 

O Thou Incarnate Word of God to man,

make us this Christmas night to realize Thy truth:

we are not Christian because we possess Thy name and celebrate the ceremonies and idly reiterate the prayers of the church,

but only in so far as we really comprehend and follow the Christ spirit-

we must be poor and not rich,

meek and not proud,

merciful and not oppressors,

peaceful and not warlike or quarrelsome.

For the sake of the righteousness of our cause we must bow to persecution and reviling, and again and again turn the stricken cheek to the striker,

and above all the cause of our neighbor must be dearer to us,

dearer than our own cause.

This is Christianity. God help us all to be Christians. Amen

 

            W.E.B. DuBois was active in civil rights work in the first half of the twentieth century, and in that light, his prayer speaks to the life that we are called to live as followers of Jesus.  His thoughts foreshadow the work of Martin Luther King, Jr. and many others, as they urged the spirit of non-violence upon those intent on pursuing societal change.

            These are all scriptural images – that of poverty, of meekness, of mercy and of peace.  We know that we are called to bow to persecution, and to turn the stricken cheek, but this is not an easy road.  To be abused, to suffer, to sacrifice – those are not twenty-first century norms. 

            Yet DuBois gives us hope:  “God help us all to be Christians.”  Christianity is not a lifestyle or a pattern of behaviors that we achieve through pure willpower or effort.  It is the Christ spirit in us.  We are no longer our own.  We are his.

 

Prayer Focus:  a surrendered spirit

Advent Evening Hymn for December 12

Advent Evening Hymn

8^th Century

 

Come, Sun and Savior, to embrace

Our gloomy world, its weary race,
As groom to bride, as bride to groom:
The wedding chamber, Mary's womb.
At your great Name, O Jesus, now
All knees must bend, all hearts must bow;
All things on earth with one accord,
Like those in heaven, shall call you Lord.
Come in your holy might, we pray,
Redeem us for eternal day;
Defend us while we dwell below,
From all assaults of our dread foe.

 

            This 8^th century prayer introduces an image that is rarely seen in Advent and Christmas writings and prayers: that of Mary’s womb being the bridal chamber.  As noted in the gospels, Christ is to be the bridegroom (Matthew 9), so it truly is in Mary’s womb that his identity begins to develop.

The imagery is inviting, both as Matthew describes for us and as used in the conclusion of the book of Revelation, as the Lamb awaits his bride, the church. “Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory! For the wedding of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready” (Revelations 19:7).  Fine linen, bright and clean – that’s what the bride is wearing, the righteous acts of God’s people (19:8). 

Truly, we who love Jesus long to be his bride, to stand before him forgiven, cleansed, pure.  Not the bride of a baby in the womb, but the bride of the Lamb.  Hallelujah!

 

Prayer Focus: to be the bride of Christ

 

An Advent Prayer for December 11

Prayer for the Feast of Christmas

Traditional Orthodox Prayer

Before Thy birth, O Lord, the angelic hosts looked with trembling on this mystery and were struck with wonder: for Thou who hast adorned the vault of heaven with stars hast been well pleased to be born as a babe; and Thou who holdest all the ends of the earth in the hollow of Thy hand
art laid in a manger of dumb beasts.

For by such a dispensation has Thy compassion been made known, O Christ,
and Thy great mercy: glory to Thee.

Today Christ is born of the Virgin in Bethlehem.

Today He who knows no beginning now begins to be,

and the Word is made flesh.

The powers of heaven greatly rejoice

and the earth with mankind makes glad.

The Magi offer gifts, the shepherd proclaim the marvel, and we cry aloud without ceasing: Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will among men.

            “The angelic hosts looked with trembling.”  When was the last time we came with “trembling” to a worship service or dropped to our knees, “sore afraid” in the presence of the Almighty God?  In the attempt of the church to make its experience seeker-friendly and its message palatable to the listener, has the sense of awe disappeared?  As the stories of the gospels are told through the lips of Larry the Cucumber and Bob the Tomato, do our children lose the sense of mystery, that the word is truly made flesh?

            Yes, as the spiritual mournfully tells us, “O, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.”  Not just the death and resurrection of Jesus, but his reconciling birth as well.  “Glory to God in the highest!”

Prayer Focus:  to worship with awe and trembling

 

Cradles for the Living Christ - an Advent Prayer for December 10

Cradles for the Living Christ

Ralph Spaulding Cushman (20^th century)

 

Let not our hearts be busy inns,

That have no room for Thee,

But cradles for the living Christ and His nativity.

Still driven by a thousand cares
The pilgrims come and go;
The hurried caravans press on;
The inns are crowded so!

Oh, lest we starve, and lest we die in our stupidity,
Come, Holy Child, within and share
Our hospitality.

 

            “Because there was no room for them in the inn.”  A crowded city, all the lodging filled, no room for Jesus.  The image, as Cushman points out, speaks to the one who is too busy, whose heart is too crowded to believe. 

            Yet it speaks as well to the believers, to those who say, “Yes, Lord Jesus, come into my heart,” yet find that heart over time crowded with the cares of this world, with the busyness of a life of faith, and yes, with way too many messages in our in-boxes. 

            I made a feeble attempt at creating a flannelgraph presentation many years ago based on a short story, My Heart, Christ’s Home.  The storyteller invited Christ into his home (his heart), and moved from room to room as they explored together what the life of faith meant in the experience of the everyday.

At one point, Jesus tells the narrator that he’d been waiting for him every morning in the (with)drawing room, but that he’d been lonely, as the narrator didn’t appear.  To paraphrase, Jesus reminded the young man that their time together mattered to Jesus just as much as it mattered to him.  Makes me wonder, how often has Jesus been sitting alone, waiting for me to join him? 

 

Prayer Focus:  room for Jesus

 

An Advent Prayer for December 9

Morning Star (A Moravian Hymn)

Johannes Scheffler (17^th century)

 

Morning Star, O cheering sight!

Ere Thou cam’st, how dark the night!

Jesus mine, in me shine,

Fill my heart with light divine.

Morning Star, thy glory bright

Far excels the sun’s clear light,

Jesus be, constantly,

More than thousand suns to me.

 

When living in Philadelphia, we were privileged to journey to Bethlehem (Pennsylvania, not Judea) to attend a traditional Christmas observance known as the Moravian Love Feast.  Surrounded by the soft glow of the beeswax candles, we sang of the heraldic angels, the shepherds who faithfully watched o’er their flocks by night, and the sweet, holy child in a manger.  I still get chills running down my spine as I remember the presence of God in that music.

Coffee and sweet rolls were shared during the service, an expression of the love feast marked within the Moravian Church.  After the transcendent majesty and mystery of the music, the gracious offering of hospitality was a particular reminder of the immanence of God in the incarnation. 

            It is from this tradition that we pray the prayer of the morning star.  “Jesus mine, in me shine, Jesus be, constantly, more than thousand suns to me.”  Jesus said, “I am the Root and the Offspring of David, and the bright Morning Star” (Rev. 22:16).  As such, the morning star proclaims that the night has ended, that new light has come. 

            It is no coincidence that within the Moravian tradition, this carol-prayer is a responsive one led by children, just as Isaiah 11 promises.  “A little child shall lead them.”  So we pray today the child-like, profound words as the light of the Morning Star shines upon us:  “Jesus mine, in me shine.” 

 

Prayer Focus:  shine in me, Jesus