cordeliaknits

On December Knitting

So, this month of December, which was a pretty terrible one for me, is coming to an end, and I have to say, the last few days did redeem it a bit.  So many things to do--church, shopping, knitting, church, wrapping, sewing, church, cooking, coughing, church church church!!!

Of course, church is a constant, always so much to do--some fun, some hard, some exhausting, some inspiring...and it never ends.  Three big services this last weekend, and now I'm working on my sermon for Sunday, and planning a memorial service for Saturday, oh, and don't forget the Epiphany service a week from Friday!  Eek!

But, in the midst of it all, I have been knitting (of course), and it has helped to keep me sane.  Last Friday, the 23rd, after my sewing machine broke while I was sewing presents and my Christmas eve sermon was still in the pit of no inspiration, I decided to find solace in a cup of tea and this intriguing little combo:

What can I say about it?  How could I resist a book with a cover like that?  And there is really nothing like doing fair-isle on size zero needles to make a girl forget her troubles and get focused.  After an hour or so I had this:

Then, it was time to get back to writing and cooking and wrapping and all those other December 23rd tasks.  The next day, Christmas eve, I needed to leave the house with a finished sermon, a shower, and a festive outfit by 3:00.  Thankfully I had my sermon mostly done by noon, and so I allowed myself some more knitting in pj's time before I had to get ready.  An hour and a half or so later, I had this:

And then, there was Christmas.  Two big services on Christmas eve, lots of singing and praying and preaching, and back at church again the next morning to do another one.  Thankfully, after one service Christmas morning, I was able to go home and meet Liz, who came to visit me for Christmas.  After opening presents, I roasted a chicken and made lots of side dishes while she worked on her annual Christmas puzzle, and I ended up having a bit of time while everything was in the oven to finish up my ball!

The blocking and stuffing I did on Boxing Day.  This was a fun little project, but I do wish my fair-isle skills were a tad better.  Blocking helped, but there are a few bunchy places that a sister knitter would notice.  Despite its flaws, it is a sweet little ornament that helped me through a trying weekend.

Thanks, Arne and Carlos!

You Will Find A Child

My Christmas Eve sermon, 2011

“This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12)

This story is so familiar to most of us…this story of Mary and Joseph and a little baby in a makeshift cradle…This story of glorious angels and fearful, hopeful shepherds… and there’s so much to say about it, too.  I could talk about the oppression of the Roman Empire…I could talk about the teenage mother and her fiancée who were forced to travel and sleep with animals…I could talk about the shepherds who were poor and disenfranchised…but the one thing I really want to talk about tonight is the baby.  That sweet, tiny baby, in whom was God.

You see, as I was working on this sermon, struggling a bit and not feeling very inspired, I got a text message from my friend Zora, who happens to be about five weeks old.  Embedded in the message was a short video of Zora wiggling around on her back, smiling at the camera and making quiet baby noises.  Her little arms waved and her eyes sparkled.

I love Zora, even though the last time I was in her presence, she was still in her mama’s belly.  Whenever I see a picture of her or read about her baby antics, my heart swells with that love, and I can’t help but smile.  This is what babies do for us, and this is how I think about the Christmas story.

 I have cared for many babies over the years, and there are few things as wonderful as holding an infant in your arms, kissing his cheek, and feeling your heart open up with love for him.  I hope that you have all been able to have that experience at least once, and if you have, I’m sure you will agree that you can’t hold a new baby and not be moved by the experience. 

We have been blessed to have several babies born into our church family this year.  One of the best days of my job so far was when I went to the hospital a few hours after baby Evelyn was born and held her. Touching her soft cheeks, marveling at her tiny hands, I whispered in her ear about how much we all loved her already.

So when I think of Jesus, I think of all of our babies.  His birth was a miracle—but so was Evelyn’s and Zora’s, and yours and mine.  I picture Mary holding this miraculous baby, her heart opening up, the love almost too powerful to bear, and then, I think… she was nurturing God.  The love she felt—that heart wrenching, instinctual, unconditional love she felt was for God.  God, who is Love, born in her baby.  God, who is Love, born in all babies…Love incarnate. 

This is a concept at the heart of Christian faith—Jesus is called Emmanuel: “God With Us.”  Jesus came to show us the awesome power of God’s love for us, to be an example of how God is always with us.  His healings, his teachings, his radical actions, his life and death, all began with Mary and Joseph holding this tiny, fragile, brand-new baby and feeling their hearts open up with love for him.  What would it be like if we were to love and nurture God in that same way?  Can you imagine?

At Christmas, when we retell this familiar story, when we see images of a baby in a manger, or sing carols about his birth, I hope we are reminded of how much Jesus needs us.  Once, he too was a small, vulnerable baby, needing food and warmth and to be bathed and held, but especially needing to be loved.   Babies need to be nurtured and loved—they cannot survive without it. 

Now, we usually think of ourselves, of humanity, as needing Jesus.  We need his help, his strength, and his teachings to inspire us, guide us and heal us.  But this Christmas, I want you to consider the ways that Jesus needs us.

Jesus needs us to be his hands in the world, to teach and heal and be like Christ to each other, and of course, just like that baby in the manger, Jesus needs our love.  This charge is not as simple as it might first appear.  While most of us may know how to take care of the basic needs of a baby, any caregiver can tell you that figuring out what a baby needs when she’s crying in the middle of the night is not always as easy as we’d like it to be. 

Knowing how to nurture God is not so simple either.  Of course, we’ve heard the basics—love your neighbor, turn the other cheek, pray without ceasing…but it’s never as easy as it sounds, is it?   Nurturing God is something that we need to work at, every day.  And it may mean different things for each of us. 

Some of us nurture God by working for justice and peace.  Some of us nurture God by using our resources to help those less fortunate.  Some of us nurture God by working to heal the earth—God’s imperiled creation… and then, for some of us the act of nurturing God must begin with taking more time to nurture ourselves.  What would it be like if we loved and respected ourselves as much as God loves and respects us?  If we based our decisions on the understanding that we are God’s own beloved, infinitely cherished… 

…Would it be easier to see the innate worth of another human being if you saw it in yourself?

What would it take, for you to nurture God?

Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that not every baby is treated like the miracle that they are.  I spent two and a half months this fall in a class with 28 other prospective foster parents learning about all the children in our county who, by no fault of their own, are neglected and abused and end up in the foster care system.  Each week, we would hear about the effects of trauma on children, and it was often bleak. 

Each week, I would look around at all of these other hopeful foster parents and wonder if we were all crazy to be signing up for this work, to be jumping through all kinds of hoops just for the privilege of caring for children who other adults had neglected or hurt.  But every week, we were there.  Anxious, sometimes doubting if we were up to the task, and yet hoping for that call from a social worker someday saying “you will find a child… Maybe not wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger, but you will find a child.”

For me, and for those other parents, this is a calling—one way we strive to nurture God.  We hope that by taking care of children who are given to us, loving them and helping them heal, even if we only have them for a short time, we will make a difference in their lives—help them to understand what a miracle they each are.

The story of Jesus begins with his birth, begins with explaining that he was a poor, helpless baby who needed his parents love and care… and that part of his story is important, because this is not the last time we are told that Jesus needed others.   Jesus wasn’t a Ruler like anyone had known before or since.  He didn’t govern with an iron fist, forcing people to bend to his will. He did not kill people, wage wars, make money off of others’ suffering or deny any person’s inherent worth.

Jesus was the leader of a community.  He listened and he taught, he fed and he healed, he protested and he spoke out against injustice… and he did not do it alone.  Throughout his life, Jesus needed his parents, his friends, and his disciples to nurture and help him, to work with him and love him, just as he needs each of us today.

It’s just a simple story, about a young mother, her tiny baby, and the community gathering around to celebrate his birth.  Christmas is when we are reminded of this, of how simple and yet miraculous it is that we are here, that God is with us.  I hope that tonight this story also helps us remember that God needs us, that Jesus needs us, and that as we care for others, if we can act with the understanding that each person is beloved of God, then our actions, our prayers, and our love are Nurturing God.

AMEN

He Came to Change the World

A Sermon for the Second Sunday in Advent

Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,
"See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
   who will prepare your way;
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
   'Prepare the way of the Lord,
   make his paths straight,'"
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, "The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

***

When we think about Jesus coming, especially at this time of year, we think of the stories about Mary and Joseph and shepherds and angels.  Advent is all about preparing for the birth of Jesus, yet, in Mark’s gospel, we hear nothing about it.  Mark begins the story of Jesus with this scene—a strange man standing in a river, proclaiming that the Messiah is about to arrive, and he’s not talking about a tiny baby, but a 30 year old man.  It might seem a bit strange for us to focus on this scripture during Advent, since it has nothing to do with Jesus’ birth.  But I think it’s here for us to remember…remember what that beautiful birth led to.  It wasn’t just Jesus’ existence that was miraculous.  It was his teaching, his example, his whole life.  So we remember the beginning of his ‘career’ as the Messiah, and listen to the prophets who said he would come to change the world.

Let me be honest: this has been a hard week.  Fights with loved ones, a terrible cold, and several days without power left me exhausted and discouraged. 

The worst thing about this last week for me was that I didn’t feel like decorating for Christmas.  Now, Christmas is my favorite holiday, and I usually do all my decorating the day after Thanksgiving, if not before.  I love listening to Christmas music, making Christmas crafts, and watching Christmas movies.  I grew up getting a present for every day of Advent.  Christmas is in my blood.  But this past week, I was in no state to decorate, or prepare, or even feel excited about Christmas.  I was sick, and tired, and grumpy, and my house was dark.  Candlelight is only romantic if you don’t need it.

So today, I’m making correlations between this first, difficult week of Advent and the reading from Mark we had today.  Neither is what we would expect or hope for…neither fits with what we think we are supposed to be feeling as we prepare for Christmas. 

A crazy-looking man standing in the middle of a river preaching about a coming Messiah is about as festive as washing your hair in a pot of water warmed on a propane stove! 

John the Baptist is a character who shakes things up…his persona and his message were unexpected, and yet, people listened to him.  We wouldn’t have this story if he had been standing in the river all alone, ranting and raving to himself.  We know the story because people were there to hear it.  People came to be baptized by him in the river Jordan, even though he was strange, even though he wasn’t a religious authority, even though he ate bugs!  John was a prophet on the margins, and he was preaching about a Messiah who would be on the margins as well. 

That’s the thing about Jesus, the thing that many Christians tend to forget…Jesus was as anti-establishment as he could get.  He was a rebel, he didn’t fit in.  Jesus spoke out against those in power.  He challenged people who claimed to have religious and political authority.  Jesus spent his time and energy on people outside of the inner circle, on people who were also on the margins of society.  The whole birth narrative of Jesus underscores that point.  He was born poor and homeless, to a teenage mother…yet people listened to him, too.

Again, this may not be what we expect to hear about during Advent, but the liturgical year is interesting that way.  We don’t really tell the story of Jesus in a linear fashion.  It’s all tangled up, almost as if it can’t be told in just one way, and one part doesn’t make much sense without remembering both what comes before and what comes after. 

We need to remember that the world Jesus was born into desperately needed a savior.  People were crushed by an oppressive government, tired and hopeless.  They lived hand to mouth, and couldn’t see a way out.

The world that Jesus is born into today is much the same.  Wars, epidemics, terrible financial inequity and governments run by people who care more about money than people.  As much as we try to make it one during Advent—this is not a perfect, glittering world.  It’s a world that needs Jesus, needs his radical teachings, his inclusive love… that’s why he came, and why he is coming. 

***

I’ve been rereading Marcus Borg’s book The Heart of Christianity lately, and recently I came to a chapter where he talks about thin places.  He starts out with a quote from the Trappist Monk Thomas Merton:

“Life is simple.  We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.  This is not just a fable or a nice story.  It is true.  If we abandon ourselves to God and forget ourselves, we see it sometimes, and we see it maybe frequently.  God shows himself everywhere, in everything—in people and in things and in nature and in events.  It becomes very obvious that God is everywhere and in everything and we cannot be without him.  It’s impossible.  The only thing is that we don’t see it.”

And Borg continues,

“But occasionally, we do “see it,” do experience God shining through everything.  “Thin places” are places where these two levels of reality meet or intersect.  They are places where the boundary between two levels becomes very soft, porous, permeable.  Thin places are places where the veil momentarily lifts and we behold God, experience the one in whom we live, all around us and within us.”

 Borg says there are many kinds of thin places.  Sacred spaces, certain people, worship services, and even whole seasons can be thin places where the closeness of God is more obvious to us.  Advent can be one of those thin places, if we let it.  Sometimes, the glittering lights and the family traditions and the Christmas carols do help to make Advent a thin place.  For those of us with good memories of the holidays, those cozy feelings and familiar sights can remind us of the magic in the world, of our closeness to the Divine. 

But that’s not the only way.  Sometimes, it takes a really crummy week to remind us how close God is… For me, being sick and without power forced me to slow way down…my evenings felt luxuriously long as all I could do was knit by candlelight.  I got a lot of knitting done!  It was quiet in my house without the hum of the refrigerator or the noisy companionship of the TV, and I had to sit in the silence and contemplate it.  Even at Starbucks, where I was on Friday morning to charge my phone and get hot coffee, people were different.  It was a madhouse, with everyone charging devices and working on laptops, but there was a camaraderie, a sense of community, that I rarely feel at a coffee shop. 

Strangers were commiserating with each other about their power loss, sharing power strips so everyone had a plug, sitting at tables with strangers and chatting about what they were doing to cope.  Now, you wouldn’t think that a bustling Starbucks could be a thin place, but as I sat there on Friday, charging my phone and knitting on my day off, I realized that it was.  Neighbors were sharing space, sharing smiles, being kind to each other.  This tiny cross-section of humanity from the Santa Cruz mountains had come together for coffee and electricity, and God was palpably present. 

 Advent is about preparation.  Preparing the way for Jesus…preparing ourselves for the coming of Christ into our hearts, into our lives, and into our world.  Sometimes Advent is full of glitter and sweetness and fun…and sometimes it is a dark and grief-filled wilderness.  Whatever it is for you this year, be present to it. 

Pay attention to the unexpected prophets…  Pay attention to the voices from the margins…Pay attention to the silence...  Prepare the way. 

This is a thin place, this season of Advent. 

“God is everywhere and in everything …the only thing is that we don’t see it.”

AMEN.