Luke 1:57-66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God. All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
• The nativity of Jesus includes the story of the son born to Elizabeth and Zechariah. This miraculous birth – the one who would be known as John the Baptizer – gives much attention to the name of this newborn. His mother and father both independently confirm that his name will be “John.”
• Elizabeth and Zechariah lived in a day when names conferred an identity upon a child and shaped that little human’s destiny. Today, we are much more likely to take names from the world of entertainment or sports.
• How do you feel about the name given you at birth? Does your name fit you? Does it say something about your destiny? Have you researched the meaning of your given name to know its origins?
• I believe we each carry another deeper, more personal, God-given name within us. Part of our life’s spiritual journey is discovering the name God has given to us, for that name reflects our true inner being and say something about the spirit in which we were created to live life. Do you have any sense of what your name might be? What life-experiences confirm your hunch?
• I also believe we only learn this name across a lifetime, as the richness and fullness of who we are in connection with God becomes known to us. This is the work of the spiritual journey, a journey into becoming the people we were created to be.
• And it is helpful to recognize that not only do you have this inner “name,” but that every other person on the planet has a God-given name. How might you honor the God-given name of those around you? Those you meet today? Those you see in the run of life, but don’t know?
Showing posts with label Elizabeth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elizabeth. Show all posts
Monday, December 23, 2019
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Third Saturday of Advent - December 21, 2019
Luke 1:39-45
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. 45 Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”
• As Christmas draws near, anticipation builds. The passage is full of “blessing” and promises nearing fulfillment.
• Luke’s Gospel, more than the other Gospels, gives voice to the women in the story. Even in our day, we realize that not everyone in our world is given an opportunity to speak. Not all voices are honored.
• Today, be in touch with your voice. What would you say is your true voice? From where did that voice come? What does that voice sound like when you truly “speak” into the world (whether with your words, actions, life, or stance)?
• Think about some people you know or are around regularly who have little voice or power. What is it like for you to be around those persons? In what ways do you encourage their voice? If you were honest, are there ways in which you stifle their voice?
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. 45 Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”
• As Christmas draws near, anticipation builds. The passage is full of “blessing” and promises nearing fulfillment.
• Luke’s Gospel, more than the other Gospels, gives voice to the women in the story. Even in our day, we realize that not everyone in our world is given an opportunity to speak. Not all voices are honored.
• Today, be in touch with your voice. What would you say is your true voice? From where did that voice come? What does that voice sound like when you truly “speak” into the world (whether with your words, actions, life, or stance)?
• Think about some people you know or are around regularly who have little voice or power. What is it like for you to be around those persons? In what ways do you encourage their voice? If you were honest, are there ways in which you stifle their voice?
Sunday, December 23, 2018
Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 23, 2018
Wombing New Life
Micah 5:1-4
Luke 1:39-45
The Gospel reading today repeats the reading from two days ago, December 21, the encounter of Mary and Elizabeth known as The Visitation.
Within both Elizabeth and Mary new life takes shape. As the narratives have suggested, God intervened in the lives of both women, making the impossible possible. They now share the same path, but at the same time walk very different paths.
The womb is a rich Advent symbol worth pondering, as it suggests gestation, waiting, preparation, and more. Birth takes time and only happens in the fullness of time.
Within the womb of each of us -- yes, female and male! -- God's life grows, taking shape over a long period of time, slowly forming apart from our machinations.
I do not see the shape of this new life within me, nor can I know exactly what it will be. I can only imagine and hope, and even then the final reality of new life will surprise me at birth . . . how different it is from my expectations and imaginings!
But as the new life grows within me, I want to be with others who can help nurture the life growing in me . . . who will help me be faithful to God, self, and others . . . who will support me and challenge me and provide the setting in which this life within me can grow to fullness.
In the middle of Rainer Maria Rilke's poem, "I am too alone in the world," some beautiful lines caught my attention 15 years ago as I was going through a significant passageway, when things I thought I could depend on were crumbling in my hands. I found these words in his poem and they became a lifeline for me.
. . . and in those quiet, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
[Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, trans. by Macy and Burrows]
This is Mary going to Elizabeth, wanting to be with someone else who knows secret things, wanting the company of someone familiar with the mystery of Divine movements. It is any surprise that Mary's greeting upon entering the house causes Elizabeth's womb to awaken and stir with recognition? This is what happens among those who know secret things together.
Steve Garnaas-Holmes posted this poem a couple of days ago about this meeting of Mary and Elizabeth, and about our own wombing of new life into the world. (Find Steve at www.unfoldinglight.net)
When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting,
the child leaped in her womb.
—Luke 1.41
Two expecting mothers share a bond,
the recognition of the altered balance,
the spherical spirit, the parallel gaze,
companionship on a hard, bright path,
the magnificent power of giving life
that others can only surmise.
And yet that gaze, that bond, that power,
is yours.
We have too many religions of gods in clouds.
God does not enter the world from the stratosphere.
God enters from within, in each of us,
not might or magic, but in love.
Mary's genius was her insight
that the divine, the world-changing Holy,
emerges from us like a newborn child.
I bear it. You bear it. It's who we are.
The Beloved begs us to feel for the leap in us,
the divine child in us that knows
its sibling in another, that knows
we are connected in our power to give life.
Behold that in yourself, feel for the leap,
and know the bond that makes of all humanity,
all living creatures, one blessed womb.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
[Steve Garnaas-Holmes, www.unfoldinglight.net)
For Reflection:
Reflect on the part of this story that draws you into itself . . . or spend time with the lines from Rilke . . . or pray with the poem by Steve Garnaas-Holmes. There are many ways you may go today. The birth of Christ approaches. Spend time with whatever draws you today.
Micah 5:1-4
Luke 1:39-45
The Gospel reading today repeats the reading from two days ago, December 21, the encounter of Mary and Elizabeth known as The Visitation.
Within both Elizabeth and Mary new life takes shape. As the narratives have suggested, God intervened in the lives of both women, making the impossible possible. They now share the same path, but at the same time walk very different paths.
The womb is a rich Advent symbol worth pondering, as it suggests gestation, waiting, preparation, and more. Birth takes time and only happens in the fullness of time.
Within the womb of each of us -- yes, female and male! -- God's life grows, taking shape over a long period of time, slowly forming apart from our machinations.
I do not see the shape of this new life within me, nor can I know exactly what it will be. I can only imagine and hope, and even then the final reality of new life will surprise me at birth . . . how different it is from my expectations and imaginings!
But as the new life grows within me, I want to be with others who can help nurture the life growing in me . . . who will help me be faithful to God, self, and others . . . who will support me and challenge me and provide the setting in which this life within me can grow to fullness.
In the middle of Rainer Maria Rilke's poem, "I am too alone in the world," some beautiful lines caught my attention 15 years ago as I was going through a significant passageway, when things I thought I could depend on were crumbling in my hands. I found these words in his poem and they became a lifeline for me.
. . . and in those quiet, sometimes hardly moving times,
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone.
[Rainer Maria Rilke, Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, trans. by Macy and Burrows]
This is Mary going to Elizabeth, wanting to be with someone else who knows secret things, wanting the company of someone familiar with the mystery of Divine movements. It is any surprise that Mary's greeting upon entering the house causes Elizabeth's womb to awaken and stir with recognition? This is what happens among those who know secret things together.
Steve Garnaas-Holmes posted this poem a couple of days ago about this meeting of Mary and Elizabeth, and about our own wombing of new life into the world. (Find Steve at www.unfoldinglight.net)
When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting,
the child leaped in her womb.
—Luke 1.41
Two expecting mothers share a bond,
the recognition of the altered balance,
the spherical spirit, the parallel gaze,
companionship on a hard, bright path,
the magnificent power of giving life
that others can only surmise.
And yet that gaze, that bond, that power,
is yours.
We have too many religions of gods in clouds.
God does not enter the world from the stratosphere.
God enters from within, in each of us,
not might or magic, but in love.
Mary's genius was her insight
that the divine, the world-changing Holy,
emerges from us like a newborn child.
I bear it. You bear it. It's who we are.
The Beloved begs us to feel for the leap in us,
the divine child in us that knows
its sibling in another, that knows
we are connected in our power to give life.
Behold that in yourself, feel for the leap,
and know the bond that makes of all humanity,
all living creatures, one blessed womb.
Blessed are you among women,
and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
[Steve Garnaas-Holmes, www.unfoldinglight.net)
For Reflection:
Reflect on the part of this story that draws you into itself . . . or spend time with the lines from Rilke . . . or pray with the poem by Steve Garnaas-Holmes. There are many ways you may go today. The birth of Christ approaches. Spend time with whatever draws you today.
Friday, December 21, 2018
Third Friday of Advent - December 21, 2018
The Open Space
Luke 1:39-45
In Luke 1:36, the angel Gabriel seeks to convince a hesitant Mary that she indeed will have a child. As one of his corroborating claims, he tells Mary that her cousin Elizabeth is expecting a child even at her advanced age.
In those days, then, after the encounter with Gabriel, Mary hurries to see Elizabeth. Both women are in awkward places . . . Elizabeth as an aging mother-to-be . . . and Mary as a too-young, too-virgin mother-to-be. No doubt both were joyful, but also more than a bit concerned about their situations. Together they could support and comfort each other, as well as share their joy. Few others would understand their strange predicaments and few would be sympathetic to their situations.
Their meeting, though, includes a surprising confirmation of God's work. When Elizabeth hears Mary's greeting, the child within her leaps in recognition and joy. Perhaps the greeting was the typical Hebrew, "shalom."
But it may as well have been the ancient "namaste" . . . "the Divine living in me greets the Divine living in you."
Theotokos (God-bearer) icons often depict Mary holding Jesus. Some depict Jesus in Mary's womb. This icon, based on the Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth, depicts the new life within the wombs of both women. Both bear new life.
In 1965, Thomas Merton wrote about the deepest, most interior and hidden center within each of us. He called it le point vierge, literally "the virgin point." But the French phrase might better be translated the open center or the waiting space. This open space at our core is where we are most deeply and intimately connected to God, where none of our usual humanness selfishness litters, but where we are completely open to God . . . that place within us which only God can access, available only to God.
This is what Merton says:
Again, that expression, le point vierge, (I cannot translate it) comes in here. At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. . . . I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.
[Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, (New York: Image, 1965), 158.]
It seems to me that these two women knew well le point vierge and that they each said their, "Yes!" to it.
As the Christian mystics have reminded us through the centuries, "Like recognizes like." The new life within Elizabeth recognizes the new life in Mary . . . and the life Mary bears recognizes the life Elizabeth bears.
For Reflection:
** Perhaps today you would greet Mary with the words of the Christian mystic, Hildegard of Bingen:
Mary, ground of all being,
Greetings!
Greetings to you lovely and loving Mother!
You birthed to earth your Son.
You birthed the Son of God from heaven
by breathing the Spirit of God.
** What within you leaps when Mary enters the room? Ponder that image for a moment.
** In what concrete way are you theotokos (a bearer of God) this Advent?
Luke 1:39-45
In Luke 1:36, the angel Gabriel seeks to convince a hesitant Mary that she indeed will have a child. As one of his corroborating claims, he tells Mary that her cousin Elizabeth is expecting a child even at her advanced age.
In those days, then, after the encounter with Gabriel, Mary hurries to see Elizabeth. Both women are in awkward places . . . Elizabeth as an aging mother-to-be . . . and Mary as a too-young, too-virgin mother-to-be. No doubt both were joyful, but also more than a bit concerned about their situations. Together they could support and comfort each other, as well as share their joy. Few others would understand their strange predicaments and few would be sympathetic to their situations.
Their meeting, though, includes a surprising confirmation of God's work. When Elizabeth hears Mary's greeting, the child within her leaps in recognition and joy. Perhaps the greeting was the typical Hebrew, "shalom."
But it may as well have been the ancient "namaste" . . . "the Divine living in me greets the Divine living in you."
In 1965, Thomas Merton wrote about the deepest, most interior and hidden center within each of us. He called it le point vierge, literally "the virgin point." But the French phrase might better be translated the open center or the waiting space. This open space at our core is where we are most deeply and intimately connected to God, where none of our usual humanness selfishness litters, but where we are completely open to God . . . that place within us which only God can access, available only to God.
This is what Merton says:
Again, that expression, le point vierge, (I cannot translate it) comes in here. At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely. . . . I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is everywhere.
[Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, (New York: Image, 1965), 158.]
It seems to me that these two women knew well le point vierge and that they each said their, "Yes!" to it.
As the Christian mystics have reminded us through the centuries, "Like recognizes like." The new life within Elizabeth recognizes the new life in Mary . . . and the life Mary bears recognizes the life Elizabeth bears.
For Reflection:
** Perhaps today you would greet Mary with the words of the Christian mystic, Hildegard of Bingen:
Mary, ground of all being,
Greetings!
Greetings to you lovely and loving Mother!
You birthed to earth your Son.
You birthed the Son of God from heaven
by breathing the Spirit of God.
** What within you leaps when Mary enters the room? Ponder that image for a moment.
** In what concrete way are you theotokos (a bearer of God) this Advent?
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Third Wednesday of Advent - December 19, 2018
Emptiness Breeds Hope
Judges 13:2-7, 24-25
Luke 1:5-25
Ancient peoples valued childbearing as a sign of fruitfulness and blessing. People devoted themselves to gods and goddesses of fertility to assure abundant crops, many children, and plentiful resources.
While the Hebrew people did not have deities who oversaw fertility, they were continually tempted to give homage to the fertility gods and goddesses of other nations. Infertility, in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian Scriptures, was a state of dishonor.
In fact, the prevalent theological understanding in both testaments took an extreme view of childlessness. Having no children signaled God's curse and was seen as God's punishment for something the woman or a family member had done. To live a life of barrenness was a harsh sentence that meant ostracism and reduced standing in the community.
Yet, scripture also contains a rich history of women in Israel who were barren for long periods of time before God intervened to give them children (Sarah, Hannah, among others). In many instances, these children became important leaders in Israel.
Today's Old and New Testament readings tell two of these stories.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson, born to Manoah and his wife who had been childless. "Barren" typically describes a woman like Mrs. Manoah in scripture. Her womb was empty, in other words. But God intervened and gave them Samson, a child they specially dedicated to God as a Nazirite. Samson would grow to become an Israelite hero.
Luke tells the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, childless and advanced in years. Luke is careful to line out for his readers that both Elizabeth and Zechariah remained faithful to God despite their "empty" condition -- which their community likely viewed as God's curse -- even while they continued living in hope.
God's intervention in Elizabeth and Zechariah leads to the birth of John the Baptist, who we have met already this Advent.
The stories stand against the notion that childlessness is curse, and against a fated understanding of life's unfolding. God is in control of history . . . not just the world's history, but also the history of you and me. We are not subject to the whims of human initiative or efforts to control life by means that make sense to us.
The stories also suggest that God values emptiness, and the rest of scripture validates this truth. The one who is empty lives in hope, open to God's filling. About this hope that arises from emptiness, Thomas Merton said:
Supernatural hope is the virtue that strips us of all things in order to give us possession of all things. We do not hope for what we have. Therefore, to live in hope is to live in poverty, having nothing. And yet, if we abandon ourselves to the economy of Divine Providence, we have everything we hope for.
[Merton, No Man Is an Island, pp. 14-15]
For Reflection:
Reflect on some way you feel empty today. In what way are you "barren"? Perhaps you are barren of energy . . . empty of creativity . . . drained of love . . . peace is gone . . . missing the company of a person who is far away.
Today's meditation suggests that emptiness is the beginning of hope. Our poverty feeds hope in God and prepares us inwardly to receive the whatever-may-come of God without controlling what the whatever-may-come looks like.
Judges 13:2-7, 24-25
Luke 1:5-25
Ancient peoples valued childbearing as a sign of fruitfulness and blessing. People devoted themselves to gods and goddesses of fertility to assure abundant crops, many children, and plentiful resources.
While the Hebrew people did not have deities who oversaw fertility, they were continually tempted to give homage to the fertility gods and goddesses of other nations. Infertility, in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian Scriptures, was a state of dishonor.
In fact, the prevalent theological understanding in both testaments took an extreme view of childlessness. Having no children signaled God's curse and was seen as God's punishment for something the woman or a family member had done. To live a life of barrenness was a harsh sentence that meant ostracism and reduced standing in the community.
Yet, scripture also contains a rich history of women in Israel who were barren for long periods of time before God intervened to give them children (Sarah, Hannah, among others). In many instances, these children became important leaders in Israel.
Today's Old and New Testament readings tell two of these stories.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson, born to Manoah and his wife who had been childless. "Barren" typically describes a woman like Mrs. Manoah in scripture. Her womb was empty, in other words. But God intervened and gave them Samson, a child they specially dedicated to God as a Nazirite. Samson would grow to become an Israelite hero.
Luke tells the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, childless and advanced in years. Luke is careful to line out for his readers that both Elizabeth and Zechariah remained faithful to God despite their "empty" condition -- which their community likely viewed as God's curse -- even while they continued living in hope.
God's intervention in Elizabeth and Zechariah leads to the birth of John the Baptist, who we have met already this Advent.
The stories stand against the notion that childlessness is curse, and against a fated understanding of life's unfolding. God is in control of history . . . not just the world's history, but also the history of you and me. We are not subject to the whims of human initiative or efforts to control life by means that make sense to us.
The stories also suggest that God values emptiness, and the rest of scripture validates this truth. The one who is empty lives in hope, open to God's filling. About this hope that arises from emptiness, Thomas Merton said:
Supernatural hope is the virtue that strips us of all things in order to give us possession of all things. We do not hope for what we have. Therefore, to live in hope is to live in poverty, having nothing. And yet, if we abandon ourselves to the economy of Divine Providence, we have everything we hope for.
[Merton, No Man Is an Island, pp. 14-15]
For Reflection:
Reflect on some way you feel empty today. In what way are you "barren"? Perhaps you are barren of energy . . . empty of creativity . . . drained of love . . . peace is gone . . . missing the company of a person who is far away.
Today's meditation suggests that emptiness is the beginning of hope. Our poverty feeds hope in God and prepares us inwardly to receive the whatever-may-come of God without controlling what the whatever-may-come looks like.
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Fourth Friday of Advent -- December 23, 2011
Luke 1:57 - 66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God. The neighbors were all filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
I find Christmas joy rivaled by Christmas angst. The difficulties and challenges of relationships the other 364 days of the year are intensified under the spotlight of an expectation of "joy, peace and celebration."
It's hard to be in relationships in a healthy way. Each of us brings old patterns and assumptions into our interactions with others. Sometimes we lock others into old expectations and leave little room for the new or the fresh or the surprising to emerge.
Zechariah and Elizabeth birthed a son. The old pattern, adopted by friends, family members, and towns-people was that the parents would give the baby a family name, so that the family line would be passed on in that naming ritual.
God's invitation to Zechariah and Elizabeth, however, was toward another name, a name representing the new thing God would do with this boy . . . and ultimately with the one this boy would precede.
It takes courage to step out of old patterns, to walk against prevailing opinion, to swim upstream when all expectations run against you like a strong river-current. It is easier to adapt and go along, not breaking with tradition. But tradition alone is rarely the wineskin that contains the fullness and expansiveness of the Gospel.
This is one of the reasons friendships and family life are such challenges. Those closest to us are also those most likely to lock us into old patterns, old ways of naming and being named, old ways of relating. When God stirs a heart and a person begins to change inwardly, living into fresh patterns or new ways of being, all these old patterns are challenged. Other people get uncomfortable . . . threatened . . . confused . . . offended.
This story of Zechariah and Elizabeth naming John helps me to step into my own experience of Christmas with a bit more courage. More than being locked into the old patterns, it invites me to live into the fresh thing God is doing in me, in others, and in the world.
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God. The neighbors were all filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
I find Christmas joy rivaled by Christmas angst. The difficulties and challenges of relationships the other 364 days of the year are intensified under the spotlight of an expectation of "joy, peace and celebration."
It's hard to be in relationships in a healthy way. Each of us brings old patterns and assumptions into our interactions with others. Sometimes we lock others into old expectations and leave little room for the new or the fresh or the surprising to emerge.
Zechariah and Elizabeth birthed a son. The old pattern, adopted by friends, family members, and towns-people was that the parents would give the baby a family name, so that the family line would be passed on in that naming ritual.
God's invitation to Zechariah and Elizabeth, however, was toward another name, a name representing the new thing God would do with this boy . . . and ultimately with the one this boy would precede.
It takes courage to step out of old patterns, to walk against prevailing opinion, to swim upstream when all expectations run against you like a strong river-current. It is easier to adapt and go along, not breaking with tradition. But tradition alone is rarely the wineskin that contains the fullness and expansiveness of the Gospel.
This is one of the reasons friendships and family life are such challenges. Those closest to us are also those most likely to lock us into old patterns, old ways of naming and being named, old ways of relating. When God stirs a heart and a person begins to change inwardly, living into fresh patterns or new ways of being, all these old patterns are challenged. Other people get uncomfortable . . . threatened . . . confused . . . offended.
This story of Zechariah and Elizabeth naming John helps me to step into my own experience of Christmas with a bit more courage. More than being locked into the old patterns, it invites me to live into the fresh thing God is doing in me, in others, and in the world.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Fourth Wednesday of Advent -- December 21, 2011
Luke 1:39 - 45
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”
"Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!"
There are moments when I'll believe anything from God, when I can hear and trust even the most improbable things from God's hand.
A few years ago, before I was a part of The Center for Christian Spirituality, I had a vision for building a retreat center and out of that facility offering retreats, classes, spiritual direction, workshops, conferences . . . basically all the things I now have the opening to do through The Center for Christian Spirituality in Houston.
I met with architects and builders in order to hear about costs and projections. I wanted to know how large the mountain was that I was about to climb. Serious. I believed this thing was going to happen, and any day!
The cost? $20 million. At least, that's what I heard. So I prayed the $20 million. It started off sounding far away. To this day, I have no idea what $20 million looks like, but -- I'm serious -- it seemed like no big deal to me. I was convinced that God wanted this retreat center to happen, and I was sold out that God would provide whatever was needed to bring it to pass.
Talk about faith!?!? I believed in this!
[It's a different meditation if I have to write about the perils of claiming something is God's will, or that I've heard God's voice, or that I'm following God's calling . . . and then come in on the back side to realize that it wasn't God's voice at all, but rather Jerry's wishes. I'll save that reflection for another time.]
Then I went to another meeting with an architect, and he said something like, "This $2 million has really put this project out of reach. I don't think it's going to happen."
TWO million?? What?? Are you kidding me? I've been wrestling with this thing for TWENTY million, and you're telling me that $2 million is out of reach?
Well, the retreat center did not happen, not for $20 or even $2 million. Instead, God opened doors at Chapelwood United Methodist Church in Houston to begin The Center for Christian Spirituality.
[By the way . . . I've noticed how quick God was to get me out of the fund-raising business!!]
My point is that for a moment in time, I believed. I really believed. I trusted that "all things are possible with God." I've had other short moments of that kind of trust along the way, maybe not as grand as that one example, but a few here and there where I've really trusted that God was big enough to do what seemed impossible to me.
But I don't really live there all the time. Those moments, for me anyway, give way to the rest of my life, to all the undulations of daily life, to the ordinary tasks of each day and the mundane details of daily living. It's very easy for me to lose an "all-things-are-possible" mentality in favor of ordinariness. I don't intend that life be this way, it just is. I'm up and down, trusting and not trusting, hearing then deaf, seeing then blind.
So it's one thing for Mary to believe God's design when Gabriel shows up on her doorstep and invites her to step into this venture with God. She says, "Yes." She believes. "Here I am, your servant. Let it be done to me as you have said."
It's another thing for Mary to continue to live into this design, to continue to step into this invitation from God . . . even when life is very normal, very routine . . . like when she's visiting friends and relatives (Elizabeth). When Mary shows up in this text, she is still living into the invitation that Gabriel offered, even though he is now off the scene. Mary seems to trust, even in the mundane things of life.
I've heard Paula d'Arcy say, "God comes to us disguised as life." Trusting the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary is not always easy. In fact, rarely is it easy.
But there is another thing in this passage that strikes me. It is Elizabeth recognizing and affirming Mary's trust. Elizabeth blessed Mary for holding her faith, continuing on in trust, even though she doesn't fully understand what that means. In acknowledging Mary's bent toward God and her ongoing belief in what God had promised, Elizabeth blessed Mary.
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”
"Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!"
There are moments when I'll believe anything from God, when I can hear and trust even the most improbable things from God's hand.
A few years ago, before I was a part of The Center for Christian Spirituality, I had a vision for building a retreat center and out of that facility offering retreats, classes, spiritual direction, workshops, conferences . . . basically all the things I now have the opening to do through The Center for Christian Spirituality in Houston.
I met with architects and builders in order to hear about costs and projections. I wanted to know how large the mountain was that I was about to climb. Serious. I believed this thing was going to happen, and any day!
The cost? $20 million. At least, that's what I heard. So I prayed the $20 million. It started off sounding far away. To this day, I have no idea what $20 million looks like, but -- I'm serious -- it seemed like no big deal to me. I was convinced that God wanted this retreat center to happen, and I was sold out that God would provide whatever was needed to bring it to pass.
Talk about faith!?!? I believed in this!
[It's a different meditation if I have to write about the perils of claiming something is God's will, or that I've heard God's voice, or that I'm following God's calling . . . and then come in on the back side to realize that it wasn't God's voice at all, but rather Jerry's wishes. I'll save that reflection for another time.]
Then I went to another meeting with an architect, and he said something like, "This $2 million has really put this project out of reach. I don't think it's going to happen."
TWO million?? What?? Are you kidding me? I've been wrestling with this thing for TWENTY million, and you're telling me that $2 million is out of reach?
Well, the retreat center did not happen, not for $20 or even $2 million. Instead, God opened doors at Chapelwood United Methodist Church in Houston to begin The Center for Christian Spirituality.
[By the way . . . I've noticed how quick God was to get me out of the fund-raising business!!]
My point is that for a moment in time, I believed. I really believed. I trusted that "all things are possible with God." I've had other short moments of that kind of trust along the way, maybe not as grand as that one example, but a few here and there where I've really trusted that God was big enough to do what seemed impossible to me.
But I don't really live there all the time. Those moments, for me anyway, give way to the rest of my life, to all the undulations of daily life, to the ordinary tasks of each day and the mundane details of daily living. It's very easy for me to lose an "all-things-are-possible" mentality in favor of ordinariness. I don't intend that life be this way, it just is. I'm up and down, trusting and not trusting, hearing then deaf, seeing then blind.
So it's one thing for Mary to believe God's design when Gabriel shows up on her doorstep and invites her to step into this venture with God. She says, "Yes." She believes. "Here I am, your servant. Let it be done to me as you have said."
It's another thing for Mary to continue to live into this design, to continue to step into this invitation from God . . . even when life is very normal, very routine . . . like when she's visiting friends and relatives (Elizabeth). When Mary shows up in this text, she is still living into the invitation that Gabriel offered, even though he is now off the scene. Mary seems to trust, even in the mundane things of life.
I've heard Paula d'Arcy say, "God comes to us disguised as life." Trusting the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary is not always easy. In fact, rarely is it easy.
But there is another thing in this passage that strikes me. It is Elizabeth recognizing and affirming Mary's trust. Elizabeth blessed Mary for holding her faith, continuing on in trust, even though she doesn't fully understand what that means. In acknowledging Mary's bent toward God and her ongoing belief in what God had promised, Elizabeth blessed Mary.
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