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Truth to speak as we wait: An Advent Litany

Let us ask God to restore us to a place of Advent waiting.  One:     A gainst the darkness of waiting,  All:        we dazzle ourselves with a garish neon skyline of our own making.                   We are blind to the rising Star of your New Creation.  One:      Against the silence of waiting,  All:        we fill our ears with the clatter of common sense.                  We are deaf to the tone and the tempo of your Song.  One:      Against the uncertainty of waiting,  All:       we hide in the stale air of closed rooms.                  We miss the scent of your Beauty as it passes through our streets.  One:      Against the nakedness of waiting,  All:         we hide our skin from the hardness and harm of the world.                   We miss your healing Touch: warm, loving, strong.  One:      Against the hunger of waiting,  All:        we fill our mouths with the same stale cake as always.                  We miss the Food of angels on your table.  One:      O God
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Movement of Air

This morning it is best to be ready  for the movement of air – to have  a good warm sweater and a sturdy coat.  And mittens. This morning the movement of air is  not-so-obviously-my-friend.  But "not-so-obvious" isn’t "not-at-all",  as a blue fringe of eastern horizon  (that was not there 'til air stirred it and moved it)  inches up morning sky.  Winds trudge across great lake,  airy aqueduct for summer gardens,  sky avalanche to blanket winter fields,  breeze to sweat-soaked faces  in hot sun.  Still, November: the unkind wind shakes branches,  drives rain-sleet-snow into faces, strips off leafy jackets from the trees... We shiver and seek warmth.  November: it’s important  (or in February blizzard) to recall  that where no air moves, nothing lives –  no breathing baby, neighbour, lover, friend,  no blossoms, buds, or bowers  nuzzling horse,  lounging dog,  purring cat,  just grey dense unseen stillness without pulse.  In the morning, it is best to be ready 
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Jesus the Welcomed Stranger

Matthew 25. 14-30, November 19, 2023: “Pentecost 25”  Matthew 25. 31-46, November 26, 2023: “The Reign of Christ”  I wonder if we really believe that Jesus is proposing the slaves who double their master’s money as spiritual models, as kingdom-ready exemplary followers of the way of Jesus. Or if, as in the case the wise and ungenerous bridesmaids in the previous parable, their cleverness invites some measure of scepticism towards the idea that we are to emulate them. I wonder if we’re ready to see this as another instance of Jesus telling a story to provoke a probing spiritual and ethical examination of what it means to enter into the fullness of our humanity, to live a “good life”.  All by itself, without the parable that precedes it and the eschatological drama that follows (and if you can overlook the pretty broad smirk in the story when it commends usury as more-or-less “better than nothing”) this could be the story it’s been fashioned into by so many – a story commending the inv
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God and Fools. For November 12, 2023

I am trying to find a way into the parable of the wise and foolish bridesmaids, something that doesn’t end with a door slamming shut in my face and an impossible moral. I’m wondering if there is any place in this story where the foolish can touch the hem of hope, as we stand outside the feast with our lamps and our too-late oil.  The Star Word I received at Epiphany is “Wisdom”, but as for so many others, so it is for me – more aspiration than accomplishment. So my question isn’t exactly disinterested. I wonder if there are others who, like me, think that our wise (now-former) companions are pretty hard-hearted, the bridegroom’s expectations unreasonably high, and the consequences drastic.  There were ten of us, and five of us brought extra oil for our lamps. The point was to have a lamp going when the bridegroom arrived, but he wasn’t about to be pinned down about when, exactly, that might be.  So what’s the problem? Is it that we foolish five didn’t plan ahead and bring more oil? W
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Jesus-the-Friendship-of-God

Here’s the end of the gospel portion read at Valerie’s funeral: “Thomas said, ‘Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?’ Jesus said, ‘I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”  It’s a tough text for a preacher in a multi-faith world. It can easily seem as if Christians are claiming unique access to the divine homecoming based on having chosen – or inherited – the right religious beliefs. But Jesus isn’t talking about Christianity. He’s not talking about beliefs. He is talking about the human embodiment of the Friendship of God as the way home to God.  In the preaching moment, there was lots of material for a homily without venturing into those difficult waters. So it  was not until a few days later that I realized the way the text and the occasion might have worked together. You see, I was preaching at the funeral of a friend. Not just my friend, though she was that. But a friend . Friend was who she was, he
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Toxic doctrine, healing story

In "What Am I Without You?", (New Yorker, June 12, 2023) Jiayang Fan writes of her relationship with her mother in its different eras. She tells the story of a Jehovah's Witness visitor her mother calls "Missionary Lady", whose mission is her mother's salvation. Jiayang finally asks her mother, "Did Missionary Lady accomplish her mission?" Her mother replies, "It's a good story, but a story can't save me." What if a story, a good story, is the only thing that can save me, save you, save us? What if the story is all we have? It started, after all, with stories: Adam, Eve, Abel, Cain, Noah, Sarah, Abraham, Isaac (barely), Esau and Jacob tumbling in the womb, a blessing, a limp, Rachel and Leah (it's complicated), Joseph and slavery, Shiprah and Puah, Moses, Miriam, Aaron, Joshua, judges, kings and prophets at loggerheads, exile and return, Ruth and Boaz, Samuel, Jonathan, David, Bathsheba, Uriah, Solomon, Song of Songs, Herod,
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This new, this now

Like a triumphal return  but without the needy anxious edge  of vanity.    The truth of me known,  yet you welcome  as if there were none better.  Forty years’ worth  of dreams of the place before,  of going back there,  now I dream my return  to this place I have never been.  Weeks of vivid nights, dreams of this place and that,  of every place I have spent my heart –  and now, this dream,  this vivid night, this warm welcome home  to this eternal place,  this new,  this now, this I, this Thou.
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