The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
If you came here from my Instagram post, you'll have noticed it made a joke about the "unity" some Alabama friends had in finding a UGA garden gnome as a gift for us prior to our ballgame against LSU. Living down here, there are lots of Alabama people, Auburn folks, and a smattering of the rest of us. It makes for an interesting fall, but it also gives lots of fodder for easy sermon material about loving your neighbor and your enemy, who can sometimes be the same person.
In our tradition, we speak a lot about the importance of unity. We pray from a common book, we eat at a common table, and we drink from a common cup. We might think of these acts as simple acts of routine worship, but what they really speak to are the deep bonds we share with the history of our tradition throughout the world and within our local community. As simple as it might sound, whenever we come to communion, we make a bold statement about our view on the importance of unity in the Church. Mind you, this doesn't mean absolute agreement, because that's an impossible task, but we do hold up the importance of sharing in that meal together.
In the Little Church we have a tradition of everyone staying around the rail until everyone has received communion. In other words, no one leaves until everyone has been fed. That would be a terribly inefficient practice in the Big Church, but the Little Church gives us that chance to make a strong practical statement about what we're doing at communion: we make a profession of our belief in being drawn together, drawn together in unity, to the great banquet of the Lord. At that banquet, there is room enough for us all.
Showing posts with label #adventword. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #adventword. Show all posts
Saturday, December 7, 2019
Friday, December 6, 2019
Advent Word - December 6 - #house - "Our house...in the middle of our street."
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
One thing we see a lot of in the office is people calling for help with utility bills or finding housing or even a night shelter. We've only got so much to spread around, and it's always hard to tell someone "No" or piece together the story they're telling. It's overwhelming just to hear their stories, and I can't begin to imagine the very real struggles so many of them are going through. And lately, we've found out that many of the shelters in town are completely full. The men's shelters, the women's shelters, and the family shelters are full of waiting lists. It leaves those in need needing to constantly call to check with the agencies, and that adds an extra stressor to their already stressed lives. It's an ugly cycle.
So many of you, when you come through and see these downtrodden folks sitting in the office, are so kind and welcoming. Earlier this week, one of them wanted something to drink, and one of you went down and brought them a glass of water. Other times, we've had folks so tired and weary that they fall asleep on the couch, and you'll walk quietly through the office, giving them a chance for a brief rest. It may not seem like it, but in those moments, you're blessing them, giving them a moment of dignity in the midst of their struggles. You are taking ownership of your roles at the church, and you are welcoming strangers into your house, into your home.
Thanks for being that way. I know it's not always easy to know how to respond in those moments, but responding with kindness and hospitality is never the wrong way.
One thing we see a lot of in the office is people calling for help with utility bills or finding housing or even a night shelter. We've only got so much to spread around, and it's always hard to tell someone "No" or piece together the story they're telling. It's overwhelming just to hear their stories, and I can't begin to imagine the very real struggles so many of them are going through. And lately, we've found out that many of the shelters in town are completely full. The men's shelters, the women's shelters, and the family shelters are full of waiting lists. It leaves those in need needing to constantly call to check with the agencies, and that adds an extra stressor to their already stressed lives. It's an ugly cycle.
So many of you, when you come through and see these downtrodden folks sitting in the office, are so kind and welcoming. Earlier this week, one of them wanted something to drink, and one of you went down and brought them a glass of water. Other times, we've had folks so tired and weary that they fall asleep on the couch, and you'll walk quietly through the office, giving them a chance for a brief rest. It may not seem like it, but in those moments, you're blessing them, giving them a moment of dignity in the midst of their struggles. You are taking ownership of your roles at the church, and you are welcoming strangers into your house, into your home.
Thanks for being that way. I know it's not always easy to know how to respond in those moments, but responding with kindness and hospitality is never the wrong way.
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Advent Word - December 5 - #raise - “We’re waiting on something that’s already happened.”
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
I joked in my Instagram post for today that I like to put up Christmas lights to lower our property value so that the city doesn't raise my taxes, but the reality is that it's just one more way to bring a little light into these days when it gets so dark so early. I've always got plans to do something really tacky with them, but I never get to it because there's only so many free weekends between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we'd rather enjoy them for a few weeks instead of being tired from putting up too many.
Maybe next time.
I used to try to be a stickler for Advent (and liturgically, I think I still am), but with two kids and a wife who LOVE Christmas and want to start listening to Christmas music before All Saints Day, there's no way I'm going to be able to hold off on putting a Christmas tree up any later than the first weekend of December. I've also learned, though, that life is too short and the kids grow up too fast for me to be a stick in the mud about it. If you've ever seen someone get scolded by the Advent Police online for enjoying Christmas before December 25, you see it's not a real flattering look.
You see, in Advent we're waiting on something that's already happened, and we're looking forward to something that we hope for in the future. That is, we're waiting for the celebration of Christmas and we're anticipating the Second Advent. One of them, we know is coming soon. And the other, we wait patiently for just as our Jewish brothers and sisters wait patiently for Elijah. Part of that waiting is preparation, and whether those sticklers out there like it or not, part of the preparation is putting up the lights early because, y'all, the light has already broken in, and sometimes it's an overpriced strand of LEDs that help us remember that.
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Advent Word - December 4 - #humble - "Humble yourself!"
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
I wish I could say there was always some profound reason behind the quote I put in each title, but it's usually just the first phrase that pops into my mind. For today's quote, it's simple something some of the players of the University of Georgia 2018 Rose Bowl team were heard saying to Baker Mayfield following UGA's overtime win: "Humble yourself!" Granted, a player from a victorious team calling this out to a vanquished opponent is not the greatest sign of humility, but, as I said, I normally just use the first line that comes to mind.
As I think about the word #humble, though, as it's given to us for this year's Advent calendar, and I struggled to figure out where to go with this one today, I remembered a prayer that we say whenever we have a Rite I service at St. Paul's. We call this the "Prayer of Humble Access," and it's been found in different spots in different prayer books throughout the history of the church. In case you don't have your prayer book handy, here is the text in its entirety:
"We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy. Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen."
It's a beautiful prayer, and as we pray it right before we come up to receive communion, it helps to put us into a proper frame of heart and mind before we come to the altar rail with one another. As I read it again this morning, I was struck again by the reminder that we don't come to the table "trusting in our righteousness." Instead, we come to the table, many of us on our knees, with our hands outstretched, asking for something that will fill us up, asking for something that we don't deserve and that we haven't earned, but trusting, nonetheless, that God deems us worthy to receive the bread and the wine of communion, to be welcomed at the table, to come into the Kingdom of Heaven.
I wish I could say there was always some profound reason behind the quote I put in each title, but it's usually just the first phrase that pops into my mind. For today's quote, it's simple something some of the players of the University of Georgia 2018 Rose Bowl team were heard saying to Baker Mayfield following UGA's overtime win: "Humble yourself!" Granted, a player from a victorious team calling this out to a vanquished opponent is not the greatest sign of humility, but, as I said, I normally just use the first line that comes to mind.
As I think about the word #humble, though, as it's given to us for this year's Advent calendar, and I struggled to figure out where to go with this one today, I remembered a prayer that we say whenever we have a Rite I service at St. Paul's. We call this the "Prayer of Humble Access," and it's been found in different spots in different prayer books throughout the history of the church. In case you don't have your prayer book handy, here is the text in its entirety:
"We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy. Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen."
It's a beautiful prayer, and as we pray it right before we come up to receive communion, it helps to put us into a proper frame of heart and mind before we come to the altar rail with one another. As I read it again this morning, I was struck again by the reminder that we don't come to the table "trusting in our righteousness." Instead, we come to the table, many of us on our knees, with our hands outstretched, asking for something that will fill us up, asking for something that we don't deserve and that we haven't earned, but trusting, nonetheless, that God deems us worthy to receive the bread and the wine of communion, to be welcomed at the table, to come into the Kingdom of Heaven.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Advent Word - December 3 - #time - "What is time?"
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
(This post contains spoilers for the Pixar short Forky Asks a Question: What is Time?)
Last weekend I watched a Pixar short with everyone's favorite spork (Forky, from Toy Story 4), and in this short film he asks Rex the dinosaur, "What is time?"
Rex replies, "Now is now, stuff happens, then it's later. Time can be future or past." It's clearly a complicated concept coming from dinosaur to a toy fashioned out of trash, and it leads to a moment for Rex as he looks longingly at the past, wishing he could have been with his fellow dinosaurs. He then says, after explaining an asteroid to Forky, "The asteroid always wins; time is a way to be forgotten." As with many Pixar productions, moments like this make kids laugh and adults realize the depth of the truth, but there's always something else to be discovered in the relationships shared by these characters.
For us, the idea of time is also a complicated one. It sometimes goes too quickly, and other times it can't pass fast enough. Some days, time seems to move both too slowly and too quickly, or maybe that's just Monday afternoons. As we grow older, living through linear time, things to seem to pass us by; I look at the list of top music on iTunes or turn on a top 40 station, and I feel like I've entered a land where I don't understand or recognize anything. For some of us, this can be scary; it can make feel left behind. When that happens, we get defensive and reactionary, and that's no good, either.
Liturgical time, though, is different. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, as time moves forward on our calendar, our time in the Church moves more like a circle. We repeat the same events and rituals over and over; we experience them differently as more of them pass by. This is a good thing; it reminds us that we are ever-growing and ever-changing. Every experience has left us with another mark so that we can experience God and the mystery of the Church year in a different way each time.
And that leads me to this. At the end of Rex's existential crisis, Forky says to him, "You know what? The future and the past sound great. But I like the now; I get to spend time with you." Often we get caught up in thinking about how things were, how they used to be, the good ol' days. It's important to remember them; it's how we keep our stories fresh to share with new generations. We also need to look to the future to prepare ourselves for whatever else may come. But don't forget the now. As Rex says, "Now is now, stuff happens, then it's later." We won't get these moments back, but don't think of that as something to be bothered by. This season that calls us to slow down gives this reminder to us as a gift, a gift to make sure we spend time wisely now, so that when it is later, we can reflect on this time joyfully.
(This post contains spoilers for the Pixar short Forky Asks a Question: What is Time?)
Last weekend I watched a Pixar short with everyone's favorite spork (Forky, from Toy Story 4), and in this short film he asks Rex the dinosaur, "What is time?"
Rex replies, "Now is now, stuff happens, then it's later. Time can be future or past." It's clearly a complicated concept coming from dinosaur to a toy fashioned out of trash, and it leads to a moment for Rex as he looks longingly at the past, wishing he could have been with his fellow dinosaurs. He then says, after explaining an asteroid to Forky, "The asteroid always wins; time is a way to be forgotten." As with many Pixar productions, moments like this make kids laugh and adults realize the depth of the truth, but there's always something else to be discovered in the relationships shared by these characters.
For us, the idea of time is also a complicated one. It sometimes goes too quickly, and other times it can't pass fast enough. Some days, time seems to move both too slowly and too quickly, or maybe that's just Monday afternoons. As we grow older, living through linear time, things to seem to pass us by; I look at the list of top music on iTunes or turn on a top 40 station, and I feel like I've entered a land where I don't understand or recognize anything. For some of us, this can be scary; it can make feel left behind. When that happens, we get defensive and reactionary, and that's no good, either.
Liturgical time, though, is different. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, as time moves forward on our calendar, our time in the Church moves more like a circle. We repeat the same events and rituals over and over; we experience them differently as more of them pass by. This is a good thing; it reminds us that we are ever-growing and ever-changing. Every experience has left us with another mark so that we can experience God and the mystery of the Church year in a different way each time.
And that leads me to this. At the end of Rex's existential crisis, Forky says to him, "You know what? The future and the past sound great. But I like the now; I get to spend time with you." Often we get caught up in thinking about how things were, how they used to be, the good ol' days. It's important to remember them; it's how we keep our stories fresh to share with new generations. We also need to look to the future to prepare ourselves for whatever else may come. But don't forget the now. As Rex says, "Now is now, stuff happens, then it's later." We won't get these moments back, but don't think of that as something to be bothered by. This season that calls us to slow down gives this reminder to us as a gift, a gift to make sure we spend time wisely now, so that when it is later, we can reflect on this time joyfully.
Monday, December 2, 2019
Advent Word - December 2 - #visit - “Come. Sit. Visit for a minute.”
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
Most of you are aware that at St. Paul's we have a generous "open-door policy" in terms of office doors. If you come around, and one of the doors is open, you are welcome to come in and visit for a bit. Sometimes we'll have the door shut because of a call or because we're working on something, and Katherine will let you know whether it's a good idea to knock on the door or not. It's a joy and an honor and one of the great privileges of ministry to get to know your stories, and we all love to know that you're comfortable enough to come around during the week, too. For years, we've had someone come around a few times a week to sit and chat, and over that time, I've pieced together a bit about him and his faith, and we've built a relationship of trust that only comes through shared time together.
Often, I'll bump into one of you across the street at Carpe Diem, and many times that's led to an extended visit. In those moments, I get to learn about what's happening in the the life of your kids; learn about your plans for the holidays; learn about whatever else might be going on. It's more than a Sunday morning conversation, and it's less formal than a scheduled appointment. It's a moment of grace where we get to meet other where we are and share in a moment of fellowship.
As we continue through the season of Advent, make time in your life for these visits with those around you. It's a busy time, but part of the point of this season of preparation to make sure we slow down and get ready for something just over the horizon (per Father Pete's sermon yesterday). Making time for a visit to build or strengthen a relationship, or just to have a conversation with someone, is part of the preparation.
NB - In the writing of reflection, there were multiple people who came through the office, so it was nice to see that I wasn't imagining something that wasn’t really happening. :)
Most of you are aware that at St. Paul's we have a generous "open-door policy" in terms of office doors. If you come around, and one of the doors is open, you are welcome to come in and visit for a bit. Sometimes we'll have the door shut because of a call or because we're working on something, and Katherine will let you know whether it's a good idea to knock on the door or not. It's a joy and an honor and one of the great privileges of ministry to get to know your stories, and we all love to know that you're comfortable enough to come around during the week, too. For years, we've had someone come around a few times a week to sit and chat, and over that time, I've pieced together a bit about him and his faith, and we've built a relationship of trust that only comes through shared time together.
Often, I'll bump into one of you across the street at Carpe Diem, and many times that's led to an extended visit. In those moments, I get to learn about what's happening in the the life of your kids; learn about your plans for the holidays; learn about whatever else might be going on. It's more than a Sunday morning conversation, and it's less formal than a scheduled appointment. It's a moment of grace where we get to meet other where we are and share in a moment of fellowship.
As we continue through the season of Advent, make time in your life for these visits with those around you. It's a busy time, but part of the point of this season of preparation to make sure we slow down and get ready for something just over the horizon (per Father Pete's sermon yesterday). Making time for a visit to build or strengthen a relationship, or just to have a conversation with someone, is part of the preparation.
NB - In the writing of reflection, there were multiple people who came through the office, so it was nice to see that I wasn't imagining something that wasn’t really happening. :)
Sunday, December 1, 2019
Advent Word - December 1 - #unexpected - “Look at the chimneys.”
The "Advent Word" practice is a daily meditation on a given word and an opportunity to share that reflection on social media with others who are keeping this practice. It's akin to an Advent calendar, but with many boxes to open on a given day. Sometimes the reflections are sincere, and sometimes they're a little silly, but at the end of the day, it's a practice set aside to help us observe the season of Advent in the midst of the world's busyness. With all of that in mind, this is going to be my attempt to observe the Advent Word practice. I wish I could promise a reflection every day, and we'll see where this goes together.
As I sit here this morning, my body is recovering from our family's trip to London for Thanksgiving, and I am becoming re-acclimated to this time zone. I don't know how long it'll take me, but if it gives me some quiet mornings to get up as I readjust, I'll take that as an extended gift from our travels. As I was trying to go back to sleep earlier, I kept thinking back to our trip, and I continued to think of today's word "unexpected." I don't know what I expected when we went over there, and I'm sure the days ahead will give me more to contemplate, and I imagine that there will also be a few more reflections that lean on that experience.
What I'm going with this morning, though, is tied into a phrase I learned a while ago.
"Look at the chimneys."
The idea behind this phrase it two-fold. First of all, there don't have to be actual chimneys around; the point is to simply look up to take in the surroundings around us. The second part, of course, is that the looking up causes us to open up our chests, breathing in fresh air and oxygen, which is a pretty good thing for all of us to partake in.
This phrase stayed in my mind as we explored the city because otherwise it was so easy to look down and try not to trip on a raised sidewalk or step on a pigeon or fall into the gap on the Underground. I had to remind myself, and I had to remind my kids, to look up. In the midst of being around the paintings and portraits that we've studied and read about or walking through Westminster Abbey surrounded by the tombs and remains of so many people who have been so important to our history and culture (I got to see where Geoffrey Chaucer was buried which made me remember my high school English teacher who had us memorize the prologue to his work!), it was so easy to forget to look up to see the incredible molding in the National Gallery or the vaulted ceilings in Westminster Abbey or even the various kinds of architecture that exist in a city as old as London.
Something happens when we look up, when we look at the chimneys. We see the beauty of the world, and we see how unexpected that beauty can be. Whether it's part of the naturally created order or created by the hands of humanity, beauty and wonder exists all around us. As we wait with expectant hearts during this season of Advent, look up, and see what unexpected beauty can be seen.
As I sit here this morning, my body is recovering from our family's trip to London for Thanksgiving, and I am becoming re-acclimated to this time zone. I don't know how long it'll take me, but if it gives me some quiet mornings to get up as I readjust, I'll take that as an extended gift from our travels. As I was trying to go back to sleep earlier, I kept thinking back to our trip, and I continued to think of today's word "unexpected." I don't know what I expected when we went over there, and I'm sure the days ahead will give me more to contemplate, and I imagine that there will also be a few more reflections that lean on that experience.
What I'm going with this morning, though, is tied into a phrase I learned a while ago.
"Look at the chimneys."
The idea behind this phrase it two-fold. First of all, there don't have to be actual chimneys around; the point is to simply look up to take in the surroundings around us. The second part, of course, is that the looking up causes us to open up our chests, breathing in fresh air and oxygen, which is a pretty good thing for all of us to partake in.
This phrase stayed in my mind as we explored the city because otherwise it was so easy to look down and try not to trip on a raised sidewalk or step on a pigeon or fall into the gap on the Underground. I had to remind myself, and I had to remind my kids, to look up. In the midst of being around the paintings and portraits that we've studied and read about or walking through Westminster Abbey surrounded by the tombs and remains of so many people who have been so important to our history and culture (I got to see where Geoffrey Chaucer was buried which made me remember my high school English teacher who had us memorize the prologue to his work!), it was so easy to forget to look up to see the incredible molding in the National Gallery or the vaulted ceilings in Westminster Abbey or even the various kinds of architecture that exist in a city as old as London.
Something happens when we look up, when we look at the chimneys. We see the beauty of the world, and we see how unexpected that beauty can be. Whether it's part of the naturally created order or created by the hands of humanity, beauty and wonder exists all around us. As we wait with expectant hearts during this season of Advent, look up, and see what unexpected beauty can be seen.
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