...the mystery of coming to us

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel shall come to thee,

O Israel!

---Latin hymn

Breathless from the bustle of autumn, we arrive at the first Sunday of Advent. Here in a football town, it seems we rush straight through football season headlong into the string of holidays that stretch from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. If we observe it, the season of Advent can give us a chance to take a breath, focus on the meaning of Christ’s birth, prepare our hearts for a sea change.

Abby and Sarah have always felt that this hymn, from the 12^th century, is the only appropriate way to usher in the season. I think that its words delineate, in mysterious yet earthy fashion,  the difference between Christianity and religion. First there is the name given for this coming Savior --- Emmanuel, “God with us”. Not God up there, or God on a throne, or God with a big naughty or nice list and a long memory. God…with…us. Then there is the rest of the short refrain: “Emmanuel shall come to thee”. Jesus is the God who comes to us. No more beseeching the heavens, stumbling around in the dark, crying out and hearing only the echo of our prayers.

God with us, come to us. Mystery, bound to earth. Rejoice!

Gifter, Maker (goodliness and gratitude)

The last couple of weeks, I have been thinking a lot about the varied and manifold ways God draws near to us and interacts with our lives. And in the drawing near, and in the relating in love, God is the giver of the good gift of our days here, spent in fellowship with God and with each other. And in the drawing near, and in the relating in love, God is the maker of ways where we cannot see a way, promising us that the path we walk we will never walk alone.

And these realizations formed in me a groundswell of gratitude---gratitude for a God with a sweeping view of history and a long view of the unfolding events of my life, and gratitude for a God with an interest in the day-to-day ordinariness of what feels oftentimes so monumental to me. Gratitude for a God meeting me where I am and dreaming me into something I can't even imagine for my life. Gratitude for a God spending enough time with me to allow a little goodliness to rub off.

And from that gratitude sprung this song. Hope it can speak for you today, too.

Gifter, Maker (a brand-new baby thanksgiving song)

Gifter, Maker

You birth us, you bear us

You craft us, you carry us

You mourn with us, you merry us

Gifter of days.

Befriend us and bend us

You soothe us and send us

Embolden and mend us

Maker of ways.

Thanks be to God up above

Creator of all that is good in us

Giver of love.

Thanks be to God with us now

Walking beside us to cheer and to guide us

For all of the days life allows.

Thanks be to God with us now.

----LACA, Nov'16

...thanking with our hands

Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices;

Who, from our mother’s arms, hath blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.
---Martin Rinkart, 1636

I wish that I had written the first line of this hymn (well, I might have tweaked the grammar a little, but otherwise…). We are used to, even weary of, talking about giving thanks. We have a holiday reserved for it (well, named for it…the holiday is reserved more and more for eating and Christmas shopping). We debate whether we teach our children well enough to say thank you as they grow up, and whether we continue that courtesy as adults. We spend our table graces and parts of our corporate and private prayers for thanksgiving for our blessings. This is not a novel thought.

The genius part? Thanking God with our hands. Now I get the thanking with our voices, and with our hearts, but with our hands? I like this way of thinking about thanking. What form would thanking with your hands take? Would you “pay it forward”? Would you practice random acts of kindness? Would you give more than you thought you could? Would you find yourself going above and beyond, if you thanked with you heart, your hand, your voice?

...go around the circle

For the harvests of the Spirit, thanks be to God.

For the good we all inherit, thanks be to God.

For the wonders that astound us, for the truths that still confound us,

most of all, that love has found us, thanks be to God.

---Fred Pratt Green, 1970

I know you’ve done it, and I know it has made you squirm, sigh, or roll your eyes (depending on your generation). Go around the circle --- the grownups’ table AND the kids’ table at your family Thanksgiving, the fellowship tables at church supper in November, the class seating arrangement in Sunday School --- and tell one thing you’re thankful for. Is there any exercise guaranteed to bring out the trite and repetitive in all of us? And yet, is there any chance most of us would stop to express gratitude for the richness of this life without going around the circle?

This hymn is a list of rich joys of the abundant life for which we can all be thankful; the list includes thanks for things I never thought of as rich until Fred Pratt Green brought them to my attention between the covers of our hymnal. No matter how world-wise and jaded we get, wonders still astound us, and (thank God) some truths still confound us. And best of all, love has found us.

There’s a place for us in the circle. Go around…thanks be to God.

...the praise of all things

All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and with us sing

Alleluia!

Let all things their Creator bless, and worship him in humbleness,

Alleluia!

---Francis of Assisi, 1225

The text of this ancient hymn is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, and dates from around the year 1225. Let’s just think for a minute about a tradition that still values the wisdom that can be gleaned from the riches of the past. Thank you, Church, for preserving these hymns for us and our children.

Now, on to the poetry and genius of the text. St. Francis couldn’t actually cover “all things”, but he covered all the bases he could with contrast. Listen to some of the contrasts from this lover of all things natural: burning sun and sliver moon, rushing wind and sailing clouds, rising morn and evening lights, flowing water and masterful fire. Can you imagine a concert of voices made up of all these natural elements, praising the One who’d imagined them? It would be pretty spectacular, I’ll bet!

And yet, Francis doesn’t leave out the human element of nature’s praise, and reminds us that our voices are needed to make the song complete. Hearts, both tender with forgiveness and heavy with pain and sorrow, are called to praise God, and to cast all care on the One who cares for us.

Let all things their Creator bless…Alleluia!

...let's be adventurers!

Excite our minds to follow you, to trace new truths in store,

new flight paths for our spirit space, new marvels to explore.

Engage our wits to dance with you, to leap from logic’s base,

to capture insight on the wing, to sense your cosmic grace.

---Shirley Erena Murray, 1990

Frank Sinatra, or if you preferred your jazz a little more complex Billie Holliday, sang “All of me, why not take all of me?” As Christians, we are used to thinking in terms of offering ‘all’ of ourselves to God---our hearts, our energies, our talents, our financial resources, even our time. One thing many of us don’t think of using in the service of God, sadly, is our minds, especially our imaginations.

What does it mean to engage our sense of discovery and imagination in the service of God? What kind of certainties must we let go of to follow our creative God in the exercise of holy imagination? How might our world change if we leapt unafraid, partnered with God, into the discovery of new insights, deeper understandings of ancient spiritual truths, new sacred heartspace?

Dare we be adventurers together, as we bring the ‘all’ of all of us in offering to the God who has always brought all of Godself to us as joyful gift?