tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87424407035262168892024-03-08T13:15:05.955-05:00Advent ReflectionsRev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-25518610178094264032015-12-25T00:31:00.000-05:002015-12-25T00:31:03.745-05:00CHRISTMAS DAY<style>
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<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">Thank you, thank you. Our Advent together--there will never be another quite like it. What a gift for me, and I hope for you. </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">May the Christmas story that follows bless you as it has blessed me. </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"> </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">With love at Christmas and beyond....</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">Alice</span></h2>
<br />
<br />
<i>And 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. (John testified to him and cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'") From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known. </i>(John 1: 13-18)<b><br /></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<h3>
<b>Once upon a time, long ago and far away, there was a famous monastery which had fallen on very hard times. Formerly, its many buildings were filled with young monks and its big church resounded with the singing of chant, but now it was deserted. People no longer came there to be nourished by prayer. A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised their God with heavy hearts.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a little hut. He would come there from time to time to fast and pray. Rarely did anyone ever have conversation with him, but whenever he appeared, the word would be passed from monk to monk: “The rabbi walks in the woods.” And, for as long as he was there, the monks would feel sustained by his prayerful presence.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>One day the abbot of the monastery decided to visit the rabbi and to open his heart to him. And so, after the morning Eucharist, he set out through the woods. As he approached the hut, the abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched in welcome. It was as though he had been waiting there for some time. The two embraced like long-lost brothers. Then they stepped back and just stood there, smiling at one another.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>After a while the rabbi motioned the abbot to enter. In the middle of the room was a wooden table with the Scriptures open upon it. They sat there together for a moment, in the presence of the Book….Then the rabbi spoke. “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts,” he said. “You have come to ask a teaching of me. I will give you a teaching, but you may only repeat it once. After that, no one must ever say it aloud again.” Then the rabbi looked straight at the abbot and said, “The Messiah is among you.” </b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>For a while, all was silent. Then the rabbi said, “It is time.” The abbot left without a word and without ever looking back.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>The next morning, the abbot called his monks together. He told them he had received a teaching from “the rabbi who walks in the woods” and that this teaching was never again to be spoken aloud. Then he looked at each of his brothers and said, “the rabbi said that the Messiah is among us.”</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>The monks were astonished by this saying. “How are we to understand this?” they asked themselves. “Is Brother John the Messiah? Or Father Matthew? Or Brother Thomas? Am I the Messiah? What can this teaching mean?” They were all deeply puzzled. But no one ever mentioned it again.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a very special reverence, for they knew that the Messiah was among them. There was a gentle, wholehearted, peaceful quality about them now which was hard to describe but easily noticed. Occasional visitors found themselves deeply moved by the life of these monks. And before long, people were coming to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks and young men were asking, once again, to become part of the community.</b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>In those days, the rabbi no longer walked in the woods, nor among the living. His hut had fallen into ruins. But somehow or other, the old monks who had taken his teaching to heart still felt sustained by his prayerful presence. </b></h3>
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>And they all lived peacefully ever after. </b></h3>
<br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt;">(Story
adapted from <i>New Catholic World </i>#222, 1979,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>P. 53)</span><b><br /></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>Watching and waiting: the themes of Advent. But with the coming of Christmas our long wait is ended, and we celebrate the arrival of the Messiah among us, once again. <br /><br />The gospel lesson above is the nativity story of John, though there are no angels, no shepherds, no stars or kings. Simply “The Word became flesh and lived among us.” </i></span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>But Jesus’ physical birth is not the end of the story; it is the beginning. It’s what happens after Jesus arrives that matters the most. In the same way, in the monks’ story, it is not the information which the rabbi shares which matters the most; it is the way the monks react to the information.<br /><br />The Messiah comes among us in so many ways: in the bread and the wine, through the Holy Spirit, in the lives and presence of others—and deep within each of us. The Kingdom of God is within and all around. </i></span></b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i>The Christ light shines within and all around. We are the light-bearers, and we determine whether it will burn dimly and fitfully, or clear and strong. For through this light, as John tells us, the world is enlightened. <br /><br />“The Messiah is among you,” taught the wise old rabbi. And the Messiah is among us still. </i></span></b></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;">AM </span></b></span></i><br />
<br />
<b>
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</b>Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-5374005747793344112015-12-24T00:27:00.000-05:002015-12-24T00:27:06.971-05:00Advent 26: 'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE....<br />
<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">This brief journal entry is from one of my favorite books: <i><br /></i></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Word from Wormingford</i>, by Ronald Blythe</span></h2>
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i>We are beckoned into the life of an English country clergyman. Please join me. We can be back in time for evening service Stateside.</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Christmas Eve.<br />
<br />
A small gift for the postmen--they have a rota--on whose endless kindnesses the logistics of this remote farmhouse turn.<br />
<br />
My towering holly hedge is snowily tipped with old man's beard but the lower boughs are a glowing mass of orange and dark green fruit and foliage. Blackbirds hustle out as I cut branches to hang over the pictures and fireplace.<br />
<br />
A ten-thirty 'midnight' at Mount Bures in order that the vicar and myself can get to an actual midnight at Wormingford. We speed through the black lanes. Among the new arts of being multi-beneficial is that of appearing to have all the time in the world when one has another church full of communicants three miles and one hour away. Most particularly at the midnight. And Mount Bures, such a sacred little temple on its military height, doesn't make this easy. It is a church to dream in. Brian plays the organ which commemorates the passing of Queen Victoria. A starved-looking John the Baptist, the parish's patronal saint, looks down at the Eucharist. Night has rubbed out the window-pictures. Joyce's new candles waver in ancient draughts. I read the Epistle and John 'In the beginning was the Word....' After the service we stand saying happy-Christmases at the door as though we have all the time in creation.<br />
<br />
Then a scamper down Old Barn Hill, past cottages flickering with television, up Sandy Hill, by the Crown and down to St. Andrew's where, mercifully, the only restiveness is in the belfry. And now, of course, the art of showing no sign that we have said and done all these great things a few minutes before.<br />
<br />
It is nearly two in the morning when Gordon drives me home where, now wide awake, I have a whisky and a read. Lights in the valley go out one by one as the congregation sleeps.<br />
<br />
At Little Horkesley matins--crowds of families and famous singing--I preach on time and timelessness, the temporal and the eternal. I ask the children:<br />
<br />
<i>And is it true? And is it true,</i><br />
<i>This most tremendous tale of all,</i><br />
<i>Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,</i><br />
<i>A baby in an ox's stall?</i><br />
<i>The Maker of the stars and sea</i><br />
<i>Become a Child on earth for me?</i><br />
<br />
They think about it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-75626207447534315582015-12-22T00:13:00.000-05:002015-12-22T00:13:13.691-05:00Advent 24: STORIES<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><br /></span>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">
It's a season of stories.</span></h2>
<br />
There's the story of Rudolph and of Frosty; there's <i>'Twas The Night Before Christmas</i> and <i>The Polar Express</i>; and of course there's <i>White Christmas</i> as well as <i>A Christmas Story </i>and inevitably there's National Lampoon's <i>Christmas Vacation</i>. Not to mention <i>A Christmas Carol</i>, and <i>The Nutcracker</i>, and <i>How the Grinch Stole Christmas</i> and <i>It's a Wonderful Life</i> and <i>Miracle on 34th Street</i>. Just for starters.<br />
<br />
These stories are wonderful, offering messages that fit quite nicely under the rubric of "Love thy neighbor" and "do unto others." They are fun and they are entertaining and they are very often inspiring. (literally meaning "embodying the Spirit.") <br />
<br />
The best of them offers that mystical
component that transforms something from earthly common sense into heavenly bliss; what people of faith
call Divine Presence.<br />
<h3>
<b> </b></h3>
<h3>
<b>The Real Deal</b></h3>
<br />
Even so, the "true meaning of Christmas"--which these stories often refer to as if they have it all figured out--is more than "wouldn't it be nice if everybody
was nice" as Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault points out in her book <i>The Wisdom Jesus.</i> (Although actually that <i>would</i> be nice; a starting point, anyhow.)<br />
<br />
<b>For most Christians, the phrase "Christmas stories" refers to what theologians rather pretentiously call "the birth narratives."</b><br />
<br />
There's Matthew's version (chapters 1 and 2), told with Joseph in the foreground as the primary mover and shaker, King Herod's minions raging around the countryside, and the wise men tracking the star. Action-packed and male-centric.<br />
<br />
And there's Luke's version (chapters 1 and 2), probably better known than Matthew's, thanks in no small part to Linus's monologue in <i>A Charlie Brown Christmas.</i> Luke's story is more of a musical featuring five songs: the opening line of <i>The</i> <i>Rosary</i>, plus the <i>Magnificat</i>, the <i>Benedictus</i>, the <i>Gloria</i>, and the <i>Nunc Dimittas</i>. Mary is center stage, the holy family journeys to Bethlehem to pay their taxes, and the shepherds keep watch over their flocks by night. No wise men in attendance and no star glittering above.<br />
<br />
John's gospel offers a very different but very lovely nativity story; in some ways it is my favorite: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(John 1:9)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
In their book, <i>The First Christmas</i>, Jesus scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan compare Matthew's and Luke's versions of Jesus' nativity, and reach several conclusions. </h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-weight: normal;">* </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">T</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">he stories are far more alike than they are different. </span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
* The stories are penned with the definite intention of demonstrating that Jesus' divine conception is more significant in every way than that of the so-called "divine Augustus" himself. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
* Most importantly, Borg and Crossan conclude that: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<h4>
</h4>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>...claims of divine conception (mean) that </b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>this child has brought or will bring extraordinary or transcendental benefits to the human race. </b></i></span> </h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
</h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b> </b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>And therefore, the proper question is not about the biology of the mother, </b></i><b>(is she a virgin or not)</b><i><b> but about the destiny of the child. </b></i></span></h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
</h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b> </b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>What is that destiny and, once you know it, are you willing to commit your life to it?</b></i></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b> To Caesar the Augustus, for example, or to Jesus the Christ? </b></i></span> </h3>
</div>
<br />
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Your Story; My Story; Our Story </h3>
<br />
The <b><i>true meaning of Christmas</i></b> is something that will never be named in even the most moving of secular dramas, for it is<b> </b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>the well-coming of God among us; </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>our God who has come before-- </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>our God who is here with us now-- </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>our God who will come more fully and more completely-- </b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>let us make space within for the divine arrival.</b> </div>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">The Advent mystery is</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"> the beginning of the end </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">of all in us </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">that is not yet Christ.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thomas Merton 1915-1968 </div>
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<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-432152975614287272015-12-21T00:18:00.001-05:002015-12-21T00:18:59.370-05:00Advent 23: SHORTCUTS<br />
<h2>
Pre-stuffed stockings. Really? Has it come to this? </h2>
<br />
Apparently it has.<br />
<br />
<h3>
It has been an interesting and informative Advent in lots of ways. </h3>
<br />
Because of this blog--<i>what am I going to write about?</i>--I've been listening more carefully and paying much closer attention to what's going on around me. Which of course is a very good thing--mostly.<br />
<br />
It's amazing what you can pick up from odd conversations, overheard in a coffee shop or on a TV talk show, or over lunch with friends.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Here are the <i>Top Ten Tips </i>I've gleaned for managing the holidays gracefully--shortcuts to a streamlined holiday season. See what works best for you.</h3>
<br />
1. Do all your shopping before Thanksgiving; there's more selection and fewer crowds.<br />
<br />
2. Take advantage of Black Friday and Cyber Monday. The prices are
amazing. (Isn't there some new Green Thing that's recently been
added? Maybe you want to check that out, too.)<br />
<br />
3. Alternatively, avoid Black Friday and Cyber Monday and that Green Thing like the
plague: the prices only seem low because they're over-inflated in the
first place; plus, people have actually been injured just trying to <i>walk
into</i> those stores. At dawn. After camping out for three days.<br />
<br />
4. Do <i>all </i>your shopping online: it's quick and easy and they'll wrap and ship for you.<br />
<br />
5. <i>Never</i> shop online: it's always best to see an item "in the flesh" so to speak--and it's a real pain if somebody needs to exchange something. Plus you save the shipping costs.<br />
<br />
6. Wrap your gifts the minute you get them in the house if humanly possible; this saves oodles of time toward the end when every second counts.<br />
<br />
7. <i> Pre-stuff </i>each stocking as you go; only then will you know when to stop shopping to be sure you haven't overbought.<br />
<br />
8. NEVER pre-stuff the turkey. Again, people have been injured. Well, gotten really sick.<br />
<br />
9. As you decorate your house, go slowly, add a few things each day; stop immediately when it starts to feel "done"; then leave the rest in the attic till next year; or the year after; or forever.<br />
<br />
10. Be sure to pick up a few spare boxes of good chocolates because you KNOW you will get stuck without a gift for somebody who pops up with something for you. This strategy can keep you from being embarrassed and, more importantly, from hurting someone's feelings. Plus, if that scenario doesn't actually happen, you can still eat the chocolates.<br />
<br />
<br />
Great stuff, right? At least some of it. Okay, maybe only tiny bits of it.<br />
<br />
<b><i>But nevertheless....</i></b> <br />
<br />
<h3>
None of us can argue with the need for some common sense help at this season. </h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Actually, <i>spiritual sense</i> is what's needed most of all, because with all the hype going on around us, Christmas can easily become more like an addiction than a celebration. </h3>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b>As an antidote, here are my own favorite <i>Two Tips for Managing the Season with GRACE</i>--grace being used in the fullest sense of the word. </b></h3>
<br />
1. Set your cell phone's timer to go off four times each day.<br />
<br />
Morning<br />
Midday<br />
Early Evening<br />
Bedtime<br />
<br />
And each time it goes off, stop what you're doing--just for 45 seconds, that's all the psychologists say it takes to completely reset and redirect yourself--and offer thanks for something, or say a prayer for someone, or just look around you with eyes wide open and love in your heart.<br />
<br />
<i>2. </i>If you are one of those people who doesn't carry a cell phone, there is a simple alternative. Wherever we go, there are people saying, "Jesus!" or "Jesus Christ!" because they are surprised, annoyed, or upset in some way. When you hear the Name, use it as a cue: say a silent blessing or prayer or thanksgiving for that person. And for anybody else who needs it. You'll be surprised and a little shocked at how much this increases your prayer time....<br />
<br />
<b>Not sure what to say?</b><br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">How about<b> </b></span><i><b>God bless us every one</b></i></span>? That would work nicely and is quite within the Spirit of the Season! <span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">(Charles Dickens' <i>A Christmas Carol</i>)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>For some things there simply are no shortcuts-- </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>like having a baby, </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>developing a friendship, </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>or waiting for seeds to sprout.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
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<h3>
And at the end of the day, here's what crucial to remember:</h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Some things, like Christ, are well worth waiting for.</b></i></span></span></div>
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<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-2470394675111644902015-12-20T01:09:00.001-05:002015-12-23T07:57:49.858-05:00Advent 22: A SABBATH BLESSING <br />
<h2>
</h2>
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<h2>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
A SABBATH BLESSING</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT</h2>
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<span style="color: purple;"><br /><i>May God, </i></span></h3>
<h3>
<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /> who sent his angels to proclaim the glad news of the Savior’s birth, </span></i></h3>
<h3>
<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /> fill you with joy and make you heralds of the Gospel!</span></i></h3>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i><b>God bless and keep you now and always. </b> </i></span></span><br />
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Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-26827736354419328432015-12-19T09:55:00.000-05:002015-12-23T08:01:31.468-05:00Advent 25: AND NOW WHAT?<br />
<h2>
The only problem with anticipation is, what do you do when the thing you've been anticipating comes to an end? </h2>
<br />
<b>What <i>do</i> you do when the Big Day has come and gone? What then? With Christmas only a couple of days away, it's worth considering.</b><br />
<br />
We all know the stories about how people get depressed every year after Christmas because they suddenly feel like there's really nothing to look forward to. <br />
<br />
And it's actually quite easy to understand how this could happen. After all, for weeks we have all thought and talked and planned and acted with one central focus in mind: the holiday celebration. It seems natural, even inevitable, that a sense of letdown might follow such an outpouring of energy.<br />
<br />
(Well, unless you're one of those people who is so absolutely sick and tired of the whole holiday season by now that frankly you can't wait to pack it all in and get back to normal. If that's you, you may want to skip the rest of this post, since obviously you need no coping mechanisms for post-Christmas blues. And <i>there's</i> the silver lining you've been looking for!)<br />
<br />
<h3>
For the rest of us, though, the ones who come crashing back to earth and find the return to the mundane somewhat jarring--and maybe on top of it we have a touch of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)--not to worry, <i>nil desperandum</i>....</h3>
<br />
Remember those signs that say "Today is the beginning of the rest of your life"? Well, they're absolutely right.<br />
<br />
<i>After all, Advent is merely a human-made construct intended to help us focus INTENSELY, during these few weeks, on what we actually should be focusing on ALL the time: living our lives more thoughtfully and with more awareness in the presence of God. For Christians, this means opening our hearts to God in Christ at Christmastime--and then practicing that openness through all the days of the year.</i> <br />
<br />
Advent is meant to help us start up<i> </i>our engines if they've been idling. Or to tune up our engines if they need it. But it is definitely <i>not </i>a season that says once you've got everything up and running smoothly it's okay to shut it down. Quite the opposite. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Here's the good news: Life is a never ending process.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Here's the bad news: Life is a never ending process. </b></div>
<br />
<br />
Our life-long learning never ends, it just begins again in another form. Like a circle. Or a spiral. <br />
<br />
And that's a comforting and even exciting thought.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">In the middle of winter I discovered in myself an invincible summer. </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~ Albert Camus</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>From the day we arrive on the planet </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>And blinking, step into the sun </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>There's more to see than can ever be seen </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>More to do than can ever be done </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>It's the Circle of Life....</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~The Lion King<br />
<br /></div>
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<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-66793167444781545042015-12-19T00:35:00.001-05:002015-12-19T09:47:23.431-05:00Advent 21: SAVOURIES<h2>
A savoury is the final course of a traditional British formal meal, following the sweet pudding or dessert course. </h2>
<br />
I've never partaken of a formal British meal, except vicariously through <i>Upstairs, Downstairs</i>, <i>Downton Abbey</i>
and the like. Tom and I did eat at Simpson's in the Strand once, the
famous carvory in London, but that's more about show than it is about
following all the courses of an actual traditional meal. <br />
<br />
The
British term for dessert, which is "pudding," delights me. I'm not
sure why, but probably just because I'm such an anglophile.<br />
<br />
Apparently, back in the day, the English upper crust ate desserts (haha, the <i>upper crust</i> ate <i>desserts</i>,
get it?) that were international in scope: mousse, pastries, fancy
cakes, etc. The poor folk, though, were confined to cheaper desserts,
such as rice pudding or Spotted Dick. (Another term that delights me. I
will <i>never</i> forget sitting in a pub in Stratford-upon-Avon with
two of my sons, and looking at their crimson faces just after the
waitress had offered them Spotted Dick for dessert. Suet pudding with
dried fruit, by the way.) Anyway, eventually the word pudding became synonymous with dessert. <br />
<br />
The thing about desserts is,
sometimes the raging sweet tooth is more titillated than satisfied by the sweet course. And thus the savoury course was born. <i> </i><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Escoffier, the legendary 19th-century French chef who
invented veal stock, felt sure that a savoury fifth taste was the secret
of his success, but everyone was too busy gorging on his food to take
much notice of his theories.</b></i></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~Amy Fleming, <i>The Guardian</i></div>
<br />
A few salty bites of something--cheese, nuts, anchovies on toast if
you're a Brit--with, say, a glass of port--these are supposed to soothe
the taste buds, leaving you to push back from the table and walk away
satiated; assuming you can still walk.<br />
<br />
Maybe that theory is why we Americans like the darker taste of tea or coffee with dessert? <br />
<br />
<h3>
This season of the year is a lot like a big feast. </h3>
<br />
I
started musing about Advent as a banquet because a good friend of mine
recently commented that I was always so busy, so productive, but she
wished I could just stop and <i>savor</i> all that I did more often. A very insightful comment.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
During this overly busy time of year, I hope each of us can find ways to add a "savoury" to our feast. </h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
A time to sit back, enjoy, and be at peace with all the world.</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">My brother, Jesus.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">It happens every year.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">I think that this will be the year that I have a reflective Advent....</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">All around me are the signs rushing me to Christmas</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">and some kind of celebration that equates spending with love.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">I need your help.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">I want to slow my world down....</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">I need Advent, these weeks of reflection....</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">Help me to feel it in my heart....</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "geneva"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> ~Taken from a prayer from Creighton University's Online Ministries </span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-13560345988114753442015-12-17T12:04:00.002-05:002015-12-18T08:11:50.757-05:00Advent 20: EXPECTATIONS--OR OTHERWISE<br />
<br />
<h2>
Expectation is one of those important Advent words.</h2>
<br />
Jesus encourages us, over and over, to live in the present thoughtfully and well; for in doing so we are preparing for the future. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Then he told them a parable: </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>"The land of a rich man produced abundantly. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>And he thought to himself, 'What should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?'</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b> Then he said, 'I will do this: I will pull down my barns and build larger ones, </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>and there I will store all my grain and my goods. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b> And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>relax, eat, drink, be merry.' </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>But God said to him, 'You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?' </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God."</b></i></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Luke 12: 17-21)</div>
<br />
<br />
Isn't that a great phrase, "Rich toward God?"<br />
<br />
During Advent we try to focus on being "rich toward God;" living more deeply in the presence of God-with-us, even as we wait in expectation of God-soon-to-come-among-us. <br />
<br />
<h3>
Of course, <i>expectation</i> can also be a tricky word.</h3>
<br />
Because expectations get confounded. Real wisdom, I suppose, includes an understanding of that.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
My nephew Andy, who is a man of few words, likes everything organized in a certain way. Routine is very important to him; crucial, even, since he has autism. And inevitably, despite the best-laid plans, sometimes things get changed. Andy knows this, and when upheaval happens he has the perfect, succinct response: <span style="color: purple;"><i><b> </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>"Unexpected."</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">My sisters and I have borrowed Andy's one word response for our own lexicon, and I can't speak for them, but I find uses for it constantly. <b> Amazing how it takes the sting out of an unwelcome surprise when you can just pause for a minute, consider what's happened, then maybe chuckle a bit and firmly label it "Unexpected!" </b> </span></span><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">Brilliant. Thanks, Andy.</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
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<b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">Whether you are focusing on your expectations of Christmas and all that that includes--</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">or whether you are dealing with the unexpected--</span></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">ONLY 7 MORE DAYS!</span></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><i><b> </b></i></span></div>
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<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-35516175532071681652015-12-17T08:22:00.002-05:002015-12-17T08:22:19.518-05:00Advent 19: FOOD FOR THOUGHT<br />
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<h2>
</h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">You are what you eat.</span></h2>
<br />
<b>That cannot be true, because if it were I would be at least 20% a walking, chocolate-dipped potato chip.</b><br />
<br />
My eating habits are what I call "<i>flexitarian</i>." Theoretically that means I use sensible discretion around my food, and don't feel enslaved to any one particular diet. Well. Sometimes. <br />
<br />
I became a vegetarian a decade ago, during one bright and shiny Lent. That was when I decided to educate myself about the meat industry in America, and what I found ensured that, when Lent ended, my vegetarianism remained.<br />
<br />
These days we all have our own personal food fads, and it's gotten more and more complicated as more and more "scientific" results have been reported. Should we eat eggs? Dare we touch butter? Would an oatmeal breakfast definitely be best each day? NINE daily servings of fruits and vegetables? Wow.<br />
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<h3>
And what, you wonder, has this got to do with Advent?</h3>
<h3>
<i> </i></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;">It's possible to have</span><i><span style="color: purple;"> too many choices. </span></i> </h3>
<br />
For example, I never shop at Home Depot if I can help it (sorry, I know it's a wonderful place in many ways) but I find ALL THOSE CHOICES entirely overwhelming. Just walking in the door starts me thinking in capital letters. <br />
<br />
<b>Ironically, we are barraged with constant <i>extra</i> choices during this season of Supposed Simplicity. </b><br />
<br />
There's the <b>what to eat</b> choice. Everybody's pushing a different diet, so that we don't pack on the pounds during the holidays. What will it be? Paleo? Mediterranian? Vegetarian? Low carb? <br />
<br />
And there's the <b>what to wear </b>choice. Tom and I went to a Christmas party last weekend, and I tried on three different outfits before I was satisfied--and I don't even have that many clothes. I remember thinking,<b> <i>If I limited myself to one little black dress things would be simpler.</i></b><br />
<br />
<b>Even gift giving, that lovely Symbol of the Season, can be fraught with peril.</b> Should you make a donation for the people on your list who need absolutely nothing? Or do you make them something with your own fair hands? Maybe give them a gift card so they can choose for themselves? But gift cards are so cold, how about something warm like a sweater? But what size? Some people make a Christmas list. Others prefer surprises. <br />
<br />
And on it goes. <br />
<br />
<h3>
No wonder there are twelve Stress Points for "Christmas Approaching." </h3>
<br />
<h3>
SIMPLIFYING</h3>
<br />
I take hope from Michael Pollan, a New York Times writer, who has waded through all the conflicting data on food and come up with Three Simple Guidelines around eating. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Eat food.</b> </i></span> (<i>As opposed to what he hilariously refers to as “foodlike substances.”</i><i>)</i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;"><b>Not too much.</b> </span></i> (<i>Portion control is crucial</i>.)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Mostly plants.</b></i></span> (<i>Use
meat as an occasional side dish rather than the centerpiece.</i>)<br />
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
Perhaps we could do the same thing for many of our seasonal choices.</h3>
<br />
That famous scripture quotation "moderation in all things" is actually not from scripture. But St. Paul has some sage advice on the topic:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>All things are lawful for me; but not all things are helpful. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>All things are lawful for me; but I will become enslaved to nothing.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(1 Corinthians 6:12) </div>
<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b><i>W</i>hen we are preoccupied with worrying about what we eat or what we drink or what we wear (as a famous man once said--<i>thank you, Jesus</i>) then that is a form of slavery.</b></h3>
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
This year can be different. If we make it so. </h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<br /></h3>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free<br />'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><br />And when we find ourselves in the place just right,<br />'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><br />When true simplicity is gained,<br />To bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed,</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><br />To turn, turn will be our delight,<br />Till by turning, turning we come 'round right</span></b></i><br />
</div>
<br />
~Elder Joseph Brackett, Shaker, 1848 Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-78821379598601559562015-12-16T08:12:00.001-05:002015-12-16T08:12:39.154-05:00Advent 18: CHANGE IS IN THE AIR <h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i> </i></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i>I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;</i></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i>your works are wonderful, I know that full well.</i></span></h2>
~Psalm 139:14 <br />
<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>That scripture snippet is from my friend Judy's favorite psalm: Psalm 139. </b> </h3>
<br />
I've been thinking a lot about Judy lately. She recently moved to Texas, and although it's been a long time since I moved myself, I well remember how unnerving it was. New house and new neighbors, new job in a new state, new doctors, and a whole new landscape. <br />
<br />
Maybe Judy and I were chatting about all the anxiety-producing changes in her life last night in my dreams, I don't really recall, but I do know that when I woke up this morning a little excerpt from her favorite psalm was running continuously through my head, but slightly adapted. <i>I am fearfully and wonderfully made </i>had morphed into:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">I am fearfully and wonderfully </span><span style="color: purple;">changing</span><span style="color: purple;">....</span></b></i></h3>
<h3>
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"> </span></b></i></h3>
</div>
<h3>
<i><b>FEARFULLY changing. FEARFUL change. Honestly, is there any other kind?</b></i></h3>
<br />
All over the planet people are changing. They are born and they die, they get married and divorced, they suffer and they celebrate. Nothing and no one stands still. Our very cells are constantly dying off and being replaced; someone once told me that every three years our bodies are entirely new. We are built from the ground up for movement and change. <br />
<br />
<b>Yet change--even welcome change--can cause stress. </b><br />
<br />
Social scientists have compiled long lists of the most common and most stressful life events that affect us. Nothing but a long list of changes. Things like death and birth and marriage and divorce and moving and new jobs. Each "stresser" has a number assigned to it, and when you add your numbers up, if your stress total is too high, the experts claim you can expect depression to come calling, at the very least. (Did you realize that just the <i>anticipation</i> of Christmas coming is worth twelve stress points? There's a sad view of Advent!)<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>But here's the <i>good</i> news: our stress <i>decreases</i> when our attitude toward change is one of acceptance. </b> </h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<i>WONDERFULLY Changing. WONDERFUL Change. Why not? </i></h3>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>I am the handmaiden of the Lord. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Let it be unto me according to your word.</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~(Luke 1: 38) </div>
<br />
Has anyone ever had better reason to be fearful than the young maiden who had to explain to her fiancee and family that she was pregnant by the Holy Spirit? What a story. <br />
<br />
<b>Mary's song of praise, <i>The Magnificat</i>, is a hymn of empowerment sung in acknowledgement that her change in status demonstrates for all the world the power of her God.</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">for the Mighty One has done great things for me, </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">and holy is his name.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
~(Luke 1:48, 49)</div>
<br />
<br />
Above all, beyond all, Mary finds the hand of God at work in all things. Even change.<br />
<br />
We are invited to do the same. <br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i>Advent</i>: Embrace the Wonder. Accept the Fear. </span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"> </span></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;">God is at hand.</span></h3>
<br /><br />
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
</div>
<h3>
<br /></h3>
<br /><br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-19924450794504739962015-12-15T03:37:00.001-05:002015-12-15T03:37:29.271-05:00Advent 17: WHAT CAN I GIVE HIM?<br />
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">THE ECONOMY OF CHRIST</span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"> </span></h2>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">Then, opening their treasure chests, </span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.</span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">(Luke 2:11b)</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A Familiar Stranger</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I saw a stranger today.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I put food for him</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the eating-place</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And drink </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the drinking-place</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And music </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the listening-place.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the Holy name </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">of the Trinity</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He blessed myself</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">and my family.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And the lark said in her warble</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Often, often, often </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Goes Christ</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the stranger's guise.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">O, oft and oft and oft </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Goes Christ </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">in the stranger's guise. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Please consider matching the cost </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">of the most expensive Christmas gift you are giving</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">with a donation to your favorite cause or charity. </span></div>
</span></span></b></i></h2>
<br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><br />
<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-90027561210471440172015-12-14T08:13:00.003-05:002015-12-14T08:13:58.955-05:00Advent 16: REMEMBERING <div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Whenever you do this, remember me. </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><i>Thank you to Dede Fitch, member of St. Timothy's and of Anam Cara, for allowing us to share in her prayerful remembering<b> </b>of our children.</i><b><i> </i></b><i>May we never forget.</i><b><i> </i></b> <i>Pray for peace.</i> AM </span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;"> </span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="color: purple;">As Long As I Remember</span></h3>
<br />
I was sitting in church on a weekday morning late in January, trying to remember a name that started with P. I had memorized 20 names—the names of the Sandy Hook Elementary School children who had died in December—but that morning I could only think of 19. I knew the name started with P, because I knew there were four P’s, and I’d thought of three of them. I’d remembered the two B’s—Charlotte Bacon and Daniel Barden; the three H’s—Dylan Hockley, Catherine Hubbard, and Madeline Hsu; and the two M’s—James Mattiolo and Grace McDonnell. I’d thought of the two R’s—Rekos and Richman, and the two W’s—Wheeler and Wyatt. I had remembered all the singletons as well—the E for Engel, G for Gay, K for Kowalski, L for Lewis, and the hyphenated one—Marquez-Green. But I only had three of the P’s: Pinto, Pozner, and Previdi. I’d forgotten one.<br />
<br />
No one told me I had to memorize the names. I just wanted to. After the shootings, the words “Remember the children” were everywhere, and during that first week we did remember them. We held prayer vigils, we lit candles, we rang church bells.<br />
<br />
But when the week was over, I didn’t feel that we’d done enough. I was angry, and our expressions of sorrow did nothing to diminish the anger I felt at yet another senseless act of carnage. Had we learned nothing from Columbine, from Virginia Tech, from Tucson, and Aurora? After each mass shooting, we staggered through shock and sorrow for a week or two—and then we went on with our lives, until it happened again.<br />
<br />
Something had to be different this time, at least for me. And during the sad days that followed the shootings, I gradually realized what it was. The idea percolated up closer to the surface each time I saw a list of the children’s names or a montage of their faces on TV, until I realized that my mission was in that simple command: Remember the children.<br />
<br />
That’s what would be different this time; this time I would remember. I would remember the children—every one of them. I would learn their names and their faces, along with the names of their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. I would look squarely at this tragedy and learn all there was to know of its human cost.<br />
<br />
My friends with children couldn’t bear to pore over the details this way. It took them too close to their own worst nightmares. But I could do it. With no children of my own to protect and reassure, I could make these 20 children my children. I could get to know them, and then after the news cycle moved on and the sorrowful chatter on Facebook subsided, I would remember.<br />
<br />
I chose an evening late in December, after the funerals were over, to review all the pictures and obituaries and news stories, and then commit the facts to memory. Dylan Hockley was autistic. Jessica Rekos loved horses. Caroline Previdi took ballet. Chase Kowalski was missing his two front teeth.<br />
<br />
Memorizing is easy for me, so it didn’t take long, and as I studied the stories, I recognized the children I would have wanted as my friends as a first-grader. Catherine Hubbard shared my love of animals—and I would have idolized her for her red hair and freckles. Ana Marquez-Greene had a parent who was a musician, as I did, and she loved to sing. Allison Wyatt liked math.<br />
<br />
I noticed others I had less in common with. Grace McDonnell would probably have invited me to her birthday party (because she probably would have invited everyone), but I doubt we would have been friends. We had different priorities. I was a tomboy, while Grace was all girl. Jack Pinto, the talented young athlete, already had plenty of admirers. I would have been among them for a while, but before long our paths would have diverged. He was headed toward varsity stardom; I would distinguish myself only in the classroom.<br />
<br />
And then there were the others, whom I might have gotten to know, had I been assigned to sit next to them or pair up with them in gym class. Or they might have remained outside of my orbit, their names and faces familiar but their lives unknown. My six-year-old self wouldn’t have known what to make of Olivia Engel, who was learning her rosary, led grace at her family’s dinner table every night, and never failed to produce a thank-you note when she received a gift. I doubt that as a first-grader I would have appreciated, much less coveted, her gifts of spirituality and thankfulness. But now I wonder what, given the chance, she might have taught me.<br />
<br />
In first grade, I wouldn’t have recognized Daniel Barden’s precocious level of empathy for what it was; I might even have been a little suspicious of how good he was, how nice he was. He sought out and befriended people who were alone. He held doors open for others almost compulsively, requiring his parents to retrace their steps to find him after they’d left a store. When I was seven, I was accustomed to receiving care and attention, not giving it. But deference and random acts of kindness seemed to come naturally to Daniel, who, on that last day of life, had gotten up early and run down the driveway in his slippers to kiss his big brother good-bye.<br />
<br />
As I studied the details of each young life, I prayed for the family that was left behind to grieve. I prayed for Catherine’s brother, Frederick, who wondered who was going to help him get on the right school bus. I prayed for Noah Pozner’s twin sister, Ariel; for Jesse Lewis’s big brother, JT; and for Shane and Travis Rekos, who had been adored by their older sister Jessica. I wearied halfway through, but I persevered. Memorizing the names was the necessary first step, but the important work, the work of remembering, lay ahead.<br />
<br />
I reviewed those names every day until they all came readily to mind. Then praying for the children became part of my routine. Some days I’d pray for all of them. Other days I’d focus on a few. And then one day last month I realized I’d forgotten one. Who was it? Who was that fourth P? I checked the list by the door as I left church that morning, and there it was—Parker. Emilie Parker.<br />
<br />
Emilie. How could I have forgotten her? Her face was one of the first beamed out to us by the media; her father Robbie spoke eloquently just one day after the shooting. Describing his oldest daughter as an exceptional artist, he noted that Emilie carried markers and pencils with her everywhere, so that when she encountered someone who was sad or upset, she could comfort them with a picture or card. Emilie was loving and caring, he said, not because of anything her parents did, but because those were her gifts from God.<br />
<br />
Robbie and Alissa Parker will always remember their daughter Emilie, their gift from God. And now, so will I. Emilie and her 19 classmates deserve nothing less. To some people they’re already just statistics. Just 20 more children lost to gun violence. But to me, they’re unique and irreplaceable individuals. They are Benjamin and Josephine, James and Avielle, Charlotte and Madeline—my children, all of them, as long as I remember.<br />
<br />
Dorothy Fitch, Copyright 2013Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-40060586538305481792015-12-13T00:25:00.002-05:002015-12-13T00:25:44.597-05:00Advent 15: A SABBATH BLESSING for ADVENT THREE<style>
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<b><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">Today, on Gaudete <i>Sunday,</i> Advent Three, </span></b><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b>may we rejoice in the many blessings of our lives. </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b><span style="font-family: "verdana";">An Old Irish Blessing</span></b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">May love and laughter light your days,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">and warm your heart and home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">May good and faithful friends be yours,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">wherever you may roam.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">May peace and plenty bless your world</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">with joy that long endures.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">May all life's passing seasons</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">bring the best to you and
yours.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;">And the blessing of God Almighty--Creator, Healer and Inspiration-- </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: purple;">be upon us all and remain with us, now and evermore.</span> </span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b><span style="color: purple;">The joy of the gospel is not just any joy. </span></b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b><span style="color: purple;">It is the joy that comes from knowing you are welcomed and loved by God.</span></b></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">~Pope Francis</span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Verdana;"><b><span style="color: purple;"> </span> </b></span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-28585299045834186032015-12-12T00:19:00.000-05:002015-12-12T00:19:30.618-05:00Advent 14: THIRTEEN, A LUCKY NUMBER<h2>
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<span style="color: purple;">Can you feel it? It's getting closer, each and every day. Only 13 more days till Christmas.</span></h2>
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<b>This is the point at which I usually give up the struggle and succumb</b>--succumb to the mad rush to finish all my self-imposed tasks in time for Christmas--and too frequently that necessitates severely curtailing my daily Advent spiritual practice. Not to mention abandoning all attempts to keep up with normal housework, cooking reasonably healthy meals, and sticking with any sort of exercise regimen. <br />
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<b>If you're like me, usually during the first couple weeks of Advent things are fairly quiet, quite even-keeled and nicely manageable, thank you very much.</b> I join the people who hum along with carols in the shops, and everybody smiles at each other and exchanges pleasantries, and admires all the season's most up-to-date decorations; sales clerks are friendly and cheerful and helpful and it seems good will to all has arrived on the planet early.<br />
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<b>And then, what we are pleased to call "reality" sets in.</b> Day 13 of our Advent journey together. And I can feel things starting to come apart. I had to go out shopping yesterday (of course) and there was an incredible amount of traffic. At two different locations on the Post Road in Southport and Westport there was road construction, making the already crowded roads even
more constricted. I struggled not to take this situation as a personal insult. (<i>Don't these road maintenance people realize some of us have very important shopping to do</i>?!)<br />
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In every store parking lot available spaces were few and far between and hotly contested. Inside the shops people's faces looked strained and even grim; clearly we were all on the same mission: trying to accomplish more than could easily be done in the available time--and time was running out.<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>What to do? </b></span></h3>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b> </b></span></h3>
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<b>How do you stop the momentum toward hassle and anxiety and stress when you feel it start to build? </b></span> </h3>
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It seems like the answer should be complicated and challenging, but it is embarrassingly simple: <i>if we are awake enough to realize what's happening we can change it. We are in charge of the season, not the other way round</i>.<br />
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<b>That good old Advent word, "awareness," is the key. </b><br />
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So. I'm going to make a list. I'm going to check it twice. And then I'm going to cross off all the things on it that aren't really that important. <br />
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<span style="color: purple;">This year I would like the holiday season to became an opportunity instead of a responsibility.</span><br />
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An opportunity to reclaim the gifts that the season is meant to offer--the gifts that don't appear on any shopping list: family and friends; generosity; happiness; peace of mind; spiritual growth; thoughtfulness; understanding; and wisdom.<br />
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And anything else you might be inclined to add. <br />
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Right at our fingertips is the Power to shift everything. Even traffic.<br />
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<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-62238361905317773552015-12-11T01:03:00.000-05:002015-12-11T01:03:22.635-05:00 Advent 13: THE SCENTS OF THE SEASON<h2>
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<span style="color: purple;">ADVENT SENSE</span></h2>
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<b>When our sons were small they had a “scented storybook” they
especially liked:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>The Sweet Smell of Christmas</i>
by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Patricia M. Scarry, Richard
Scarry’s wife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></b>The book was about Little Bear (I should say <i>is</i> because it’s still being published) and during Bear's holiday experience he smelled, as I recall,
gingerbread, apple pie, hot chocolate, and evergreen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe a candy cane, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the reader could Scratch 'n' Sniff and
smell it all right along with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
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<b>The Advent season is teeming with good smells: </b>the musky bite of evergreen; the earthy odors of growing things like poinsettia and Christmas cactus and
amaryllis; the tang of cinnamon and
clove and ginger; and the tummy-rumbling heaven of breads and cookies and turkey and stuffing and onion
soup or whatever might be in the oven or on the stove. (I'm getting hungry.)</div>
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Last week when Tom and I walked into Ganim’s Garden Center to get our tree and wreaths, the smells were so intense and so familiar<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember thinking, <i>if you dropped me here blindfolded I
bet I would know where I was by the smell</i>.</div>
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Even the dubious odor I inhaled a few days ago when I unpacked the garland for our staircase bannister--an odor made up of the mold and mildew and dust that lurk in the corners of our Christmas boxes —even that carried with it the reminder of happy times and holidays past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It made me sneeze, but it also filled me with good cheer.</span><br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b><i>Why is it that smells evoke such strong feelings and such powerful memories</i>? </b> </span></h3>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Apparently our sense of smell is uniquely able to evoke memories because our brains process odors through our olfactory bulb, which is closely connected to the brain areas that handle memory and emotion. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Sight, hearing and touch aren't processed through those brain areas, which may be why those senses don't trigger memories as intensely. (Thank you, Dr. Joseph Mercola.)</span><br />
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>We are blessed with five senses, and blessed to be living in a time in which we are encouraged to use them. </b> The Cartesian view of the body, mind and spirit as separate entities has been shown to be not only wrong but extremely unhelpful. </span><br />
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<b>Perhaps the lush nativity stories of Matthew and Luke are so appealing because they pique our senses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>We see the star sail high in the heavens, and the exotic magi following; we hear the choir of angel voices lift their spectacular <i>Gloria</i>; we sniff the organic aroma of all that livestock--and
possibly some of the shepherds as well, it’s not a desk job after all. Even the kings were on the road a long time.<br />
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<b>The ancient Celtic Christians were famous for their holistic worship. </b>Not only did they seek and find God's presence throughout the natural world, they worshiped that presence with their whole being. For them there were no artificial divisions between body, mind or spirit.<b></b><br />
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<i>They instinctively knew what we have only just begun to discover: </i></h3>
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<i> we ARE our souls in flesh.</i></h3>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">Unseeable</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">I have seen you this day</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the lights of the skies,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the green of the earth, </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in flowing waters.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">Untouchable</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">I have felt you this day</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the warmth of the sun,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the wildness of wind,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the touch of another.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">In and beyond my senses, </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in taste and touch and sound</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">your mystery has been made known.</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">At the ending of the day,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in the darkness of the night,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">in and beyond my senses </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">let me know your presence, O God,</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;">let me know your everlasting presence. </span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b></div>
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~J. Philip Newell, <i>Sounds of the Eternal</i>, p. 80. </div>
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Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-44432564834201084952015-12-10T08:37:00.002-05:002015-12-10T08:37:46.584-05:00Advent 12: ANCIENT GIFTS, ADVENT GIFTS<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The Gospel of Thomas</span></span></h2>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></h2>
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<i><b><span style="color: purple;">His disciples said to him, "When will God's kingdom come?"</span></b></i></div>
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<i><b><span style="color: purple;">"It
will not come by watching for it. It will not be said, 'Look, here!' or
'Look, there!' Rather, the God's kingdom is spread out upon
the earth, and people don't see it."</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><b>Anyone who is a traditional church goer may be understandably surprised when when first told about The Gospel of Thomas.</b> After all, the Bible includes only four gospels--Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. I certainly recall being startled twenty-four years ago when I first learned about Thomas at seminary. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><b>The first fragments of The Gospel of Thomas were discovered in the late 1800's by a British team excavating the remains of an ancient trash heap in Egypt. </b> At that point the archeaologists simply labeled the fragments "The Sayings of Jesus," for clearly that's what they were. It wasn't until the 1945 discoveries at Nag Hammadi (also in Egypt) were published that it was realized the Coptic Gospel of Thomas found there corresponded to those "Sayings of Jesus" fragments discovered half a century earlier. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">In terms of dating the gospel, it is widely agreed that Thomas probably assumed its present form by 100 CE, although an earlier edition may have originated as early as 50-60 CE. This is comparable to the biblical gospels, which were written in the same time frame: Mark, the earliest, most likely before 70 AD; Matthew and Luke in the last third of the first century; John toward the close of the first century. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><b>As new material has been gathered scholars have come to realize that the origins of Christianity were much more diverse than was previously supposed. </b>The victorious "orthodox" voices drowned out their less successful competitors, but with the discoveries of so many ancient manuscripts we are recovering key pieces of our religious story. </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">In 367 AD Bishop Athanasius of Alexandria and his colleagues finalized the list of books that would be accepted into the canon of the New Testament; </span></span>the Nag Hammadi text of The Gospel of Thomas was not chosen. But the monks from one of the many monasteries founded by St. Pachomius in that region--perhaps from Chenoboskion, only a couple of miles from the discovery site--apparently could not bring themselves to destroy their sacred texts. As the Rev. Cynthia Bourgeault writes:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">...the monks simply entrusted them to an urn in the desert.</span></span></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">There they sat for more than 1500 years, rather like a time capsule,</span></span></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">awaiting a more propitious season in the life of the Church</span></span></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">when hearts would once again be open to receiving their wisdom.</span></span></b></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">Perhaps the time has come. </span></span></div>
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<h3>
Thomas Speaks.... </h3>
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The text at the beginning of this post is from the Gospel of Thomas (Logion 113). <br />
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Although you might have thought it was this very familiar passage from the Gospel of Luke :<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><b><i>The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed. People are not going to be able to say, "Look, here it is!" or "Over there!" For in fact, God's kingdom is among you. </i></b></span> </div>
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(17:20, 21)</div>
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<b>Whichever variation of this well-known saying of Jesus speaks most clearly to you, his two main points remain the same:</b></div>
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<i>God's presence is here and now and all around.</i></div>
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<i>And mostly we don't notice it.</i></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>The contemplative season of Advent offers a corrective to our chronic not noticing.</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>Today may our eyes and ears and hearts and minds be opened wide to God's presence,</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>within and all around. </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>And may we carry that blessed corrective into all the days beyond....</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><i><b> </b></i></span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-41354247327058345172015-12-09T08:06:00.003-05:002015-12-09T08:06:12.938-05:00Advent 11: IN THE DARK<h2>
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>The monastic hour of Vigils is the womb of silence.</b></i></span></h2>
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It is the pre-dawn time of quiet--also known as Matins--which is the night watch hour of prayer. A time for contemplation and for learning to trust the darkness.<br />
<br />
Looking at the night sky, we are beckoned into awareness of the immense mystery in which we <i>live and move and have our being</i>. (Acts 17:28) <br />
<br />
The poet Rilke, in his <i>Book of Hours</i>, declares that<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>My God is dark. </b></i></span> </div>
<br />
He sees a thousand theologians plunging like divers into the night of God's name, an image as unexpected as it is lush.<br />
<br />
Darkness holds everything, embraces everything, including
you and me, as Brother David Steindl-Rast writes in his little jewel of a
book, <i>The Music of Silence</i>. He goes on to say: <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Vigils is an invitation to learn to 'trust in night'; </b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>to trust the darkness despite the immense fear it triggers.</b></i></span></div>
<i> </i><br />
<br />
<b>I rose very early yesterday in order to drive a friend to the hospital for surgery. </b>My normal time of waking is usually around 7, but despite the unusually early hour (4:30) I realized I was looking forward to the experience. <br />
<br />
Time was I dreaded having to get up in the dark; it somehow frightened me. I know exactly what Brother David means by "the immense fear (the darkness) triggers". <br />
<br />
But the gift of leading early morning church services for a number of years taught me something about those rich depths of night that Rilke evokes so well.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<b>The daylight hours are beautiful; cleanly defined and crisp and filled with activity. But rising before dawn ushers a whole new dimension into the day. </b> </h3>
<br /><br />
When the garage door went up yesterday and that square of bright light pierced the darkness outside, I cringed. I felt blundering and crude, an alien presence impinging on the quiet of the natural world. I was glad to get into my quiet car and glide away, twin pools of headlight illuminating my way, while the darkness fell, untroubled, behind me. <br />
<br />
<b>And even now as I sit, hours later, in the stark light of the cafe at Yale New Haven Hospital--waiting for the beeper to sound the call that will pronounce all is well and all is complete--I can still feel that extra dimension that was the gift of the night.</b><br />
<br />
The hour of Vigils invites us to carry the depths of the dark into the light of the day; to carry it with peace and with wonder, like a harmony we never
forget. <br />
<br />
<b>Fra Angelico is famous for his paintings of angels of all kinds, including angels intended to represent the monastic hours of the day. His Angel for Vigils is garbed in darkest red, and holds his horn as if he were ready to blow, but is awaiting some celestial signal. His eyes lift upward and in reverent silence, in the darkness of the night, he looks for the dawning of the light.</b><br />
<br />
After reading about the Angel of Vigils in Brother David's book, I realized that our family owns a copy of that very painting, an inexpensive but lovely little plaque that has hung in our home for years (along with three other similar ones) as a Christmas decoration. A Christmas decoration, an Advent gift.<br />
<br />
This year I will smile and remember the sacred hour of Vigils whenever I see it. <br />
<br />
And I will offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the healing of my dear friend.<br />
<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-65592965218946085652015-12-08T04:36:00.000-05:002015-12-08T04:36:22.392-05:00Advent 10: PARADOX<style>
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<br />
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<h2>
<span style="color: purple;">
I have always found the paradoxical wisdom of Advent somewhat confusing.</span></h2>
<br />
During this time Christians are remembering something that has already happened. (Jesus' Advent upon the Earth.) We're also<i> </i>looking forward<i> </i>to celebrating the anniversary of that event (Christmas Day) which in addition<i> </i>foreshadows a future time in which Jesus will come again (The Second Coming). And, <i>at the same time</i> we're recognizing that Jesus is with us right now (The Presence of Christ Within and All Around.) We could further complicate matters by introducing the historic Jesus versus the risen Christ.<br />
<br />
We're also called--particularly during Advent--to anticipate and await and prepare--but also to <i>live fully in the present moment</i> and to tend to business, spiritual and otherwise, with great dedication and concentration.<br />
<br />
<b>The church has dealt with this seeming contradiction in time through a deep but nonspecific formula:</b><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. </b></i></span></div>
<br />
<h3>
Now, thanks to Quantum Theory, we can let that whole conflicted struggle go. For Quantum Theory is proving that <i>time</i>, as we have always understood it, does not exist. </h3>
<h3>
</h3>
<h3>
It turns out that the Church had it right all along.</h3>
<br />
Our ideas of the linear passage of time are completely wide of the mark; and in fact there isn't even any mark to be wide of in the first place. In quantum theory all points of reference are possible, because the minute we observe anything it changes. Or they change. All at the same time. In different locations. And in fact, before we observed it, it (or they) most likely didn't exist anyhow, at least not in that form.<br />
<br />
As if that's not enough, quantum theory postulates that time runs in both "directions" as we understand it. Yes, the present influences the future; but the present also influences the past. The future can change the past. And any other permutation we can think of, apparently. With the emphasis on the present as the point of power, because at the end of the day that's all we've got, right? Or maybe not....<b> </b> <br />
<br />
<b>This is mind bending, at the very least, but it has released me from my petty concerns about nailing down exactly how we celebrate Advent and Christmas in terms of linear time. </b>Actually, we could probably celebrate Christmas first and then have Advent afterward, if we just let go of our limited understanding of things. <br />
<br />
I am chuckling as I write this, but truthfully the mysteries and magic of Advent have always been beyond knowing or telling. Let go and let God indeed.<br />
<br />
Science and religion, on the same page. Who would have thought?<br />
</div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-62379730511863792472015-12-07T00:24:00.001-05:002015-12-07T00:24:34.958-05:00Advent 9: BLOG <h2>
Blog: a word that starts with a little explosion and ends with a thump.</h2>
<br />
Apparently the word is a truncated version of the 1990's term <i>web log</i> (as in Captain's Log, for all of us who grew up with Star Trek. Which is pretty much everybody.) A verb form has also developed (<i>blogging</i>) as well as a second noun <i>(blogger</i>) i.e., the one who blogs. <br />
<br />
<h3>
So we've arrived at Day Nine in our mutual blogging adventure, and by my calculations that puts us exactly one third of the way through our Advent Reflections experience. (11/29 through 12/25 = 27 posts; 9 x 3 = 27. But who's counting?)</h3>
<br />
A number of you have mentioned that writing a daily blog, even for just 27 days, is a big commitment. To quote a reader who is a fellow writer, "I'd be tearing my hair out." Others mentioned they hoped I was enjoying the process, and that they were loving the posts, but it was clear they wondered about the toll the effort might take. A few offered the wise suggestion that a sentence or two is enough of a post from time to time. (<i>Thank you! See yesterday's post!</i>)<br />
<br />
<h3>
Since I'm a bona fide, card carrying, highly experienced worrier, I put in extra worry time before this project began: What if I can't think of anything to say? And if I do, will I say it well enough? </h3>
<br />
Then your feedback started coming in, and I felt much better. In fact, I took probably ten minutes to feel great--and then I started worrying about whether I could sustain a fresh and inviting attitude all the way to the end.<br />
<br />
Luckily, I have a good sense of humor to accompany my highly developed anxiety.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Here's the thing: I thought I was giving you a gift, and it turns out you gave me one. </h3>
<br />
Knowing that you are there, reading and reflecting along with me, has focused my Advent awareness in ways that I won't pretend are always easy, but they are incredibly valuable.<br />
<br />
I am much less likely to go off shopping or wherever, and slip into that distracted unconsciousness that is all too easy to fall into. Instead, my eyes and ears and heart and mind are open, looking for Spirit in it all; waiting to discover something I can share with you that might lift your hearts or give you pause or open your eyes to something new.<br />
<br />
<h3>
It's not just me talking; it's you listening as well. Energetically, without you my job would be only half done. For what's the use of a gift that is not received? The communion is only half experienced.</h3>
<br />
Surely you deserve a more thoughtful term than "blog followers." <br />
<br />
So, with your kind permission, I'm going to continue to use "soul friends." <i>Anamchairde</i>. <br />
<br />
Thank you. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-27492081824884004272015-12-06T00:50:00.000-05:002015-12-06T00:50:19.430-05:00Advent 8: Blessing<br />
<br />
<br />
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;">A SABBATH BLESSING</span></h2>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<h2>
</h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: purple;">He who has realized that </span></i></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: purple;">sun and stars and souls do not
ramble in a vacuum </span></i></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: purple;">will keep his heart in readiness </span></i></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: purple;">for the hour when the world
is entranced. </span></i></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
– Abraham
Joshua Heschel</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Today, on the Second Sabbath of Advent, may each of us stand ready to be entranced.</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-52409546314025382192015-12-05T08:20:00.003-05:002015-12-05T08:20:44.030-05:00Advent 7: LISTENING<h2 style="text-align: left;">
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</style>The word <i>listen</i> contains the same letters as the word <i>silent.</i> </h2>
<h4>
~Alfred Brendel</h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<b>Have you ever met anyone with social anxiety disorder?</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> We used to call it "being painfully shy" and i</span>t’s a surprisingly common issue. The people who suffer from it worry about what to say in a social situation; they are torn between fear of saying the wrong thing and looking foolish, and fear of having nothing to say at all--and looking foolish. <br />
<br />
<b>I am
no therapist and don't want to oversimplify, but I can recommend one common sense help for social anxiety disorder:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>practice listening carefully to people when they speak
to you.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> </span>You will soon be in great demand because everybody is desperately looking for someone to really listen
to them--to listen wholeheartedly, and to believe that in that moment there is
no more important place to be, and nothing more important to
do.<br />
<br />
<b>In Matthew's nativity story, Joseph listens intently--and obeys--each and every time an angel prompts him: </b><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">...do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife...the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit....you are to name him Jesus. </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">(Mt 1:20,21)</span></span></span><i><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span> </span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">...take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt.... </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">(Mt 2:13)</span></span></span><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">...take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child's life are dead. </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Mt 2:20)</span></b></div>
</blockquote>
The wise men listen too, to the dream they have which warns them to avoid King Herod and return to their country by another road.<br />
<br />
<b>In Luke's version of the nativity, listeners frequently burst into song lyrics when they hear the Voice of God or an Angel of God. (<i>This response is not advised in normal conversation</i>.) </b><br />
<br />
Mary listens to Gabriel's news and responds positively:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Here am I...let it be with me according to your word. </b></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="color: black;">(Lk 1:38)</span></b></span><i><b> </b></i></span></blockquote>
</div>
Her cousin Elizabeth listens to a cue from her son, the unborn John the Baptist, and her response remains among us today as a part of the <i>Rosary</i>:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. </b></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><b>(Lk 1:42)</b></span></span></span> </div>
<br />
Mary listens to Elizabeth in her turn, and responds with what is called <i>The Magnificat</i>:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><i><b>My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.... </b></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: black;"><b>(Lk 1:47)</b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="color: black;"><b> </b></span></span></span><b> </b><b> </b><br />
<h3>
<b>Listening is something most people don’t do very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b>We’re too busy trying to remember what we
want to say next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">As John Wayne (aka 'Big Jake' McCandles) tartly observed: <i>"</i>You're short on ears and long on mouth<i>."</i></span><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></h3>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Really relaxing into a conversational exchange is a gift and a privilege.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have been admitted into the privacy of another person’s life and thoughts, and we have an opportunity to learn something.<b> </b><b><i> </i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i>How much more does that apply when God is trying to speak to us?</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Jesus' day they must have had the same problems with dysfunctional ears, so he chose stories-- parables--as the most user-friendly form of teaching. And even then he often pointed the ending with "<b>Y</b>ou who have ears, listen."<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>If Jesus was standing among us today, in all his transfigured glory, I wonder if we would listen
any better than Peter was doing on that famous mountaintop? </b>That was a classic example of someone talking instead of listening. If you recall, finally God interrupted the flow and spoke directly to Peter:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><b>This is my son, my Chosen;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>listen to him!</b> </i>How embarrassing.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
Here's an intriguing question: what do you think Jesus might talk about
if he was here in the flesh today?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </h3>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would
he have a great parable about computers to help us better understand God's presence in our lives?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or maybe traffic, surely he would talk about traffic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And hunger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And illness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And sex. And money. And the need for love, of course. Actually, a lot of his topics would probably be exactly the same. Which is a disconcerting realization.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I have written a pseudo-Jesus parable below, just trying to imagine what he might
talk about today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>The Gospel According to Alice</i>:</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">The kingdom of heaven is like a group of young people </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">who
went out to dinner together </span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="color: purple;">and they all turned off their cell phones.</span></i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b><i><span style="color: purple;"> </span></i></b> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">(AL 1:1)</span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<h4>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">If you have an idea for a contemporary Jesus parable please share it in the comment section below. </span> </b></span> </span></h4>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-46705534722686456172015-12-04T01:01:00.001-05:002015-12-04T01:01:59.334-05:00Advent 6 Christmas Weather<style>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h2>
Weather. If you don't like it, wait a minute.<br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>
</h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brother-in-law in Omaha was trapped inside for two days
over Thanksgiving weekend because they had an ice storm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thanks be for football.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Wednesday, at the same time I was weeding the flower beds by my front door, my sister Nance was watching snowflakes trace the outlines of the trees
in her yard in Illinois.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Pulling weeds is not my favorite thing—although it can be
very therapeutic—but I was really enjoying myself because being able to weed in December felt like such a treat.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> </span>The soil
was chilly but soft, and the weeds looked bright green and thriving, so
when I spotted them en route to placing the wreaths on the doors I decided to take twenty
minutes and pluck them from their happy home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(The weeds,
not the wreaths.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The alyssum I spared,
leaving it like little white explosions in the pots that flank the front door.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a completely different weather experience, our son and his wife went to Grand Cayman today; we look
forward to pictures of turquoise and purple and fuschia Christmas lights closely wrapped
around the trunks of palm trees: Christmas Caribbean style. A high of 88 degrees there today, according to my phone. Way too hot, right?<br />
<br />
<b>The temperature in Jerusalem has been in the fifties this
past week; it’s supposed to be in the very low sixties next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hardly “the bleak midwinter” but certainly
not conducive to riding around on donkeys and sleeping in barns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you were thinking of doing that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Speaking of Jerusalem, I wonder if there are any decorations in the Church of the
Nativity in nearby Bethlehem?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If there are they must look quite different from the Christmas trees and poinsettias here in the States--or so I imagine. Palm branches, maybe? Although perhaps that would smack too much of Palm Sunday....<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>All around the world, people are
preparing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are preparing differently
but they are preparing for the same thing:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Immanuel, God with us.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">There's a lovely Church of England hymn<i>, The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended</i>, that speaks of the whole earth as one praying community: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">As o'er each continent and island</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The dawn leads on another day,</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The voice of prayer is never silent,</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Nor dies the strain of praise away.</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">The sun that bids us rest is waking</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Our brethren 'neath the western sky,</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">And hour by hour fresh lips are making</span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;">Thy wondrous doings heard on high.</span></b></i></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"> </span></b></i> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">OR, as somebody much less formally theological than the Church of England once put it: </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Welcome Christmas. Bring your cheer,</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Cheer to all Whos, far and near.</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Christmas Day is in our grasp</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">So long as we have hands to grasp.</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Christmas Day will always be</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Just as long as we have we.</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Welcome Christmas while we stand</span></span></b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">
</span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Heart to heart and hand in hand.</span></span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><span style="color: black;">~Dr. Seuss</span> </span></span></b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;">Any weather, any landscape, any time zone.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"><br /></span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-7306527880563430642015-12-03T07:56:00.000-05:002015-12-03T07:56:56.251-05:00Advent 5: ALPHA AND OMEGA<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Yesterday there was a wasp making its way up our staircase
at home; he looked drunk.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> </span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to
lift him out of danger from hurrying feet, but as I stooped from my great
height (scraping 5’2”) he summoned his last strength and flew feebly off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a dead lady bug this morning at the base of our comforter (a real one, not
one of those faux orangey ones).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tidy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Legs all tucked up under her shell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ready for whatever was coming next.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other day one of those prehistoric-looking bugs that
carries its shield on its back was climbing up my office window, moving in
painful slow motion, so I gently scooped him onto a piece of paper and tucked him
outside in a big pot with a decorative blue spruce; that way he could enjoy
being in the natural world in his last hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Alice to the rescue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband Tom observed
dispassionately, “You do realize he came in here to die in comfort?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<b>Death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's everywhere.</b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today would be my brother-in-law Chris’s 54<sup>th</sup>
birthday. He passed on eleven years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mom’s birthday is a week from today; she died at 91 this
past May.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<b>Birth and death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jesus is born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a dream
Joseph is warned the infant is in danger, so the holy family flees to
Egypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Matthew’s gospel tells us that
when Herod is balked of Jesus, he slaughters the babes “in and around Bethlehem”
instead. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal">
<b>Death and birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday Claudia Chapman wrote that she had </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;">a <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">run
in last winter with a lengthy illness which, quite literally, took my breath
away, led me to think about the afterlife in a more intense fashion. You'd
think after all these years of contemplation that I would be comfortable in my
beliefs wouldn't you? It turns out that I'm not; not at all. In fact, I was
pretty scared.</span></span></b></i></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Claudia goes on to describe a teacher in
grade school choosing the crayon color that she (Claudia) was to use when
coloring in the “class calendar square” for the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Claudia accepted the teacher’s choice,
but secretly resented it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If I learned
anything at all on that day in first grade, if I'm just handed a peach crayon
and told to color in the sky one day, I hope I'll say ‘please, I'd like to pick
my own colors if you don't mind.’ </span></span></i></b></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Six months ago I had a heart attack and bypass surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cardiologist told
me to expect grief to come calling. I figured he was just a pessimist, but he was right. Contemplating
your own death up close and personal is a brand new animal. Albus Dumbledore claimed </span><i>death
is but the next great adventure to the well-ordered mind</i> but my own experience
was a lot messier than that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
Claudia’s, it included fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And the gift? Each precious moment. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Word from
Wormingford</i>, the Rev. Ronald Blythe clambers gingerly down an impossibly steep hill to the front door of
a parishioner, an ancient and formidable lady named Dorothy Sewart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><b><span style="color: purple;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being told at twenty-five (by some ‘tom-fool
doctor’) that she had not long to live, she decided to live recklessly and was
continuing to live even more recklessly at eighty-five.</span></b></i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">(p. 7) </span></div>
</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A soul, the good reverend opined, living entirely unto herself. <b> </b><br />
<br />
Why does it take a death sentence to teach us how to do that?
<b>
</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
<b></b><b>Advent: endings and beginnings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jesus’ “first coming”--is front and center, but his “second
coming” hovers close behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church readings now include the "end times” or the "last days.” And those are some scary readings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>But amid all the signs and symbols and
prognostications is some very excellent advice about living "between times."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think even Dorothy Sewart would approve. </b></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Wake up and get with the program.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
If you’re afraid, ask for help; it will be given. Better yet, don't be afraid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Savor it all, even the hard bits; they have something to teach you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span>LOVE extravagantly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3 class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: purple;">And, of course--choose your own colors. </span></b></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-26741863047162078622015-12-02T07:47:00.001-05:002015-12-02T07:47:19.315-05:004 Advent: MY CHRISTMAS CRUSH<style>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><b>Today I have been traveling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s what I meant to do when I imagined this
blog.</b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b> </b> </span>I would move to a different
location each day, and I would just plant myself there and think about…whatever
came to mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And write about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: small;">But till today I hadn’t done that.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span> </span>The first three days of this blog were
focused on mechanics:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the mechanics of
learning to write for a fair amount of time each day and every day (I would be embarrassed to tell you how long a couple of
these posts took); the mechanics of learning what to do when something that
looks perfectly fine on your own screen develops internal demons when you
transfer it to somebody’s blog program (you panic and text your daughter-in-law
the webmaster or your son the computer software writer); and the mechanics of
figuring out the timing of everything so that by 9 am in the morning something
intelligible will on offer in everybody’s email.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "times";">But today, with three whole days under my belt,
I got braver. I left my house and
drove a mile and a half to the Barnes
and Noble cafe in Westport.</span></b></span>
</h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">When I got here the place was packed, only two
tables out of about twenty still free, due to the fact that the wrapping paper
station has taken over the lower left side of the café.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Armed with my mug of skinny peppermint
mocha I found a table on the lower level, literally inches from a ledge covered
with what looks like hundreds of games:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Monopoly, Battleship, Clue, Parcheesi, Twister, and a whole bunch
unknown to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why does it make me feel
so good to know that people still play Twister and Parcheesi?!</span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Two hours later I have had a ball, sipping coffee, listening to moderately horrible renditions of Christmas carols, watching people meet up to chat, including several pairs of tutors with students. I can feel the smile on my face, even before I greet my friend Margy who works here, and Don as well, a fellow customer I met ages ago when I first began coming here to work on my sermon.</span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">It has been a great afternoon. This is much more what I figured blogging would be like. </span></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span></b></span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "times";">And what about Advent wisdom for the day, I
hear you wondering. Have you any
spiritual pearls to share as a result of your relaxing and enjoyable
afternoon? Good question.</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "times";"> </span></b></span>
</h3>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Not really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well maybe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sort of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess I’ve spent the afternoon
rediscovering how much I love the season and most of its trappings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know it’s fashionable to resent the secular
“taking over” of the religious celebrations of Christmas, but I confess that in
my book it’s mostly all good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christmas
is one of the church’s big hits; why argue with success?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The making-a-buck thing gets tiresome, that’s
true, but what’s not to love about friends and family celebrating, and parties
and Christmas cards and presents given and received, and feasts shared and
great music and lots of lights twinkling all around?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Anybody who thinks they’ve taken Christ out of
Christmas is mistaken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christ is in Christmas, Christ
IS Christmas, for Christ’s sake--and I mean that with all reverence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His message is out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His message is in here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Imagine me touching my heart.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most secular humanist who sends a
Christmas card or talks about peace and good will on earth through recycling
and re-purposing, or who is concerned about caring for the sick and freeing
those who are in subjection to others or in thrall to drugs—that person is
talking about Christ, known or unknown. Those are Christian ideas and Christmas
morals and Christian sentiments and Christian theology.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times"; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">And if they’re also Buddhist and Hindu and
Jewish and Muslim beliefs, why on earth would we complain? </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;"><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Bidden
or unbidden, God is present</span></i></span><span style="font-family: "times";"><span style="color: purple;">.</span><span style="color: purple;"> </span> (Carl
Jung)</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: purple;"><i><span style="font-family: "times";">Ubi
Caritas et amor deus ibi est</span></i></span></b><span style="font-family: "times";"><b><span style="color: purple;">.</span></b><b><span style="color: purple;"> </span></b> </span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Where
there is love and caring, there is God.</span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Peace on earth. One person at a time. One heart
at a time. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times";">Let’s leave the nonsense about the design of
Starbucks coffee cups to the politicians.</span></span></div>
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Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8742440703526216889.post-16743314957497254042015-12-01T08:48:00.002-05:002015-12-01T10:42:28.912-05:00Advent 3 DIVINE STORIES<style>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>An Advent Tale
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<b>Ask any “churched” person about the meaning of Advent</b>, and they may respond with <i>waking up</i> or <i>preparation</i> or <i>penitence</i> or <i>hope</i> or <i>light</i> or <i>birth</i> or one of many other options. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>Individual words have their own energy of sound and meaning, but a whole new level of power blossoms when words come together to tell a story. </b> Jesus knew that. That's why he taught in parables. He was an absolutely divine story teller.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Last Sunday Rev. Max at St. Timothy's on the Hill shared a story from Barbara Brown Taylor's book <i>Bread of Angels</i>. The story is about yet another Advent word: WAITING. It's about waiting till the bombs stop falling. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>Taylor has a friend who was eight years old when the Germans bombed London. </b> The little girl lived in the city with her grandparents, her cousin Bettine, and a big English sheepdog named--appropriately--Blitz. Whenever the air raid sirens sounded, they all sheltered in a sandbagged garage they shared with a Swedish couple and their little girl, who was also around eight years of age. And what Taylor's friend remembers most about those times in the bomb shelter is what tremendous <i>fun</i> the little girls had.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><span style="color: purple;"><i>We saw things in those sandbags no one else saw. We hunted for gold in them and we found it. Then we hid it again. Sometimes we found goblins and fairies, too. There was a whole world down there that the adults couldn't see. When we got too loud they'd say, 'Shhhh, we can't hear the bombs.' </i></span> <span style="color: purple;"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Then we would listen too and if the explosions were nearby we would get scared, only the Swedish girl taught my cousin and me what to do. 'Lie on your back and cross your arms over your chest and God will protect you.' </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">After the bombs stopped, (we) sneaked outside and looked up at the sky--the beautiful sky where all that ugliness came from</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">....I tell you, we had an awfully good time! </span></i></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(pp. 162-163.) </span></span></div>
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<b>How do we choose to wait?</b><br />
<br />
With dread, expecting the worst? (<i>Shhh, I'm listening for the bombs!</i>)<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Or with hope, with trust (<i>cross your arms over your chest and God will protect you</i>!), and above all with divine creativity--open and alert and responsive to all of life, the comfortable <i>and</i> the uncomfortable.</div>
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That's the kind of waiting that prospects for gold in sandbags, and celebrates the beautiful sky from which bombs can fall. </div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: purple;">Sacred parables aren't only found in scripture.</span></span></div>
Rev. Alice Mindrumhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03537397366772405616noreply@blogger.com0