Monthly Archives: December 2011

What the Lectionary Doesn’t Say This Advent

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

Advent in Scotland. I think that Scotland is a country made for Advent: the outside temperatures—and I mean the outside low temperatures—the lack of sunshine or simply blue skies, the rain, the mist: everything is on hold, waiting for better times. Reflecting a bit on my Advent in Scotland, I set out to reading the readings that the Catholic Church has for today: a reading from the Book of Isaiah (Is 45:6c-8, 18, 21c-25), followed by Psalm 85:9a, 10, 11-12, 13-14 and the Gospel reading from Luke 7:18b-23. And I could not help it, but I started to laugh.

Why? Well, I noticed immediately the pick-and-choose mentality of the lectionary. Not only are the lectures picked so that they fit with each other, comment on each other or elaborate on each other (and I have to admit the choices are sometimes good), but they also cut up the text into pieces of verses and then present a new whole. In other words, the lectionary does what I always try to avoid: namely hopping from one verse to another, skipping others, and just dealing with the nice verses. After all, we want a smooth reading in the lectionary. But that is not how texts work. Imagine reading Harry Potter’s Deadly Hallows without having read the earlier volumes. One plunges in the story not knowing about horcruxes or not knowing that Dumbledore has died. The story just would not make sense.

So, curious as I am, I checked which verses were deleted. Which dark powers were at work and why? In Isaiah 45, the lectionary has skipped the verses about Cyrus, the Persian king who is portrayed as the rescuer, saviour of the Jews… of course, we don’t want to hear that in our Christian churches. We usually do not consider outsiders to be our saviours, right? Next, the questioning of God the creator who chose Cyrus is deleted. We do not question God, nor God’s choice, right? So why would we incorporate in our readings a Biblical text in which that is said. Last but not least, the reference to other nations that pray to a god that cannot save, that verse as well is deleted from the lectionary. And note that a god that cannot save does not deserve a capital G. In other words, with advent, when listening to the beautiful text of Isaiah, we cannot be reminded of good foreigners, of foreign saviours, of gods that cannot save, and certainly not of dissenting voices questioning the so-called one and only God, with capital G.

Similarly in the Psalm: the beautiful verses in which it is described how God restored the fortunes of Jacob/Israel and how God forgives Israel are not taken up, the somewhat strange verses in which the people again ask to be forgiven—these verses seem strange as they people seem to ask for something that they already received—they too are not read in the liturgies.

There is less cutting in the gospel text. Actually, there has been no cutting at all in this section. John’s question is not shortened and Jesus’ answer is fully produced. So, why is that that we cut, pick and choose, that we skip verses in our texts? Do we avoid looking at things we don’t like? Are we afraid of strangers and foreigners? Can we not deal with the idea that there is maybe a god that can’t save? Similarly, does the omission of the verses in the Psalm which show God’s (or the author’s) irritation with the idea of questioning God point to our not-willingness to see that there could be questioning of God and/or that God does not like it. And why did the lectionary drop the verses that contain the repeated request to be saved? Can we not understand that we liked to hear the same thing twice, or do people get frustrated with repetition?

I think that precisely the omitted verses should be part of the advent readings. Of course, the rest of the readings are nice and sweet and beautiful: God creator of everything, God, the safe-place to be, God proclaiming peace and salvation, God giving benefits, what more can we ask for. But then again, the other elements belong in here as well: we have to learn to deal with the unexpected, with the questioning, with the idea that a god cannot save—whether it is God or god—, with an irritated God, with a people that repeats its questions. All these elements have an essential part in our process of waiting, for in our waiting time, in our waiting rooms, in our not yet being there, we have to reflect on all the things that obstruct or seem to obstruct our going ahead.

***

by Kristin De Troyer

Death and Advent

by Rev. Kelli

Why should I fear in times of trouble,
when the iniquity of my persecutors surrounds me,
those who trust in their wealth
and boast of the abundance of their riches?
Truly, no ransom avails for one’s life,
there is no price one can give to God for it.
For the ransom of life is costly,
and can never suffice,
that one should live on for ever
and never see the grave.

When we look at the wise, they die;
fool and dolt perish together
and leave their wealth to others.
… Mortals cannot abide in their pomp;
they are like the animals that perish.

—Psalm 49: 5-11, 12

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the broken-hearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
…I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
my whole being shall exult in my God;
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its shoots,
and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring up before all the nations.

—Isaiah 61:1-3, 10-11

I must admit I am composing this devotional afresh just before it is to be posted. I had to. The mixed metaphors of this holy season have caught up with me. Advent, a season of waiting, formerly a season of penance, is full upon us today as we enter the midpoint of this season. I have been struck in reading the devotionals written for WWSIC (particularly those that follow the daily lectionary) at how the advent season is so admixed with the passages of Jesus’ death and ultimate resurrection bringing new life into the world, even life after death.

Life and death. Are these not the crux of the Advent season? In the time of year when we witness the “death” of the sun and foliage; in this time of year when Earth herself seems to go into hibernation, it is hard to not be reminded of the realities of death. I think of this both figuratively and literally.

As Psalm 49 from today’s lectionary reminds us, none of us shall live forever. Rich or poor, we are but creations of God, and no matter how wise or wealthy we may work to become, “Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish.” And yet, many of us find ourselves in a culture that wants us only to seek knowledge and wealth. Moreover, we find ourselves in a cultural season that celebrates overconsumption and greed. If we find ourselves not pondering physical death this season, we may be pondering spiritual or financial demise. And, just where in a season of joy, hope, love, and peace are we to sit with such woes? In Advent we await the birth of Christ and all that means. But this does not mean that all is “well with my soul” in the waiting. In the waiting we find the realness of life: the aches, pains, fears, and contractions that come before birth, particularly when it is unknown how the labor may go.

The season of Advent is dark. The love, hope, joy, and peace we yearn for may not yet have come. Still we wait. It is a wonder to me how and why we do this. Professionally and personally, I am keenly aware this season of how myriad emotions of the human experience—particularly loss—changes the waiting. And I’m aware how experiences of injustice and oppression make the waiting seem like it will simply go on and on, and that change to finally bring relief may never arrive.

And there it is in the lectionary this week: the presence of death in the season of Advent. It is a reminder that we do not live forever. But it also a reminder of God’s promised work in the world. In the passage of Isaiah for this week we are told that God intentionally sends one to help the “oppressed,” “broken-hearted,” “captives,” “prisoners,” and “all who mourn.” It is a promise that even when the world seems most troubled, God is still working out a way out of no way. It is a hopeful text, telling us that God is seeking to liberate those who have been exiled for years—even generations—in a foreign land; that God is coming even for those in a culture that leads them to believe that materialism and greed is all that exists. And God is not only coming for those who mourn—for loved ones or beloved values—but God is going to provide all who mourn “a garland instead of ashes.”

What stands out to me most from this week’s Isaiah text is the promise that God has already “clothed me with the garments of salvation / covered me with the robe of righteousness.” It is a comforting promise, even as I mourn a colleague, and as I am reminded of all those whom I/we have lost this year. It is comforting to me as I think of a friend fighting for life in the ICU even as I write. It is promising to me, this promise that God is not only coming but has already provided garments and robes for me, and all people, at our meeting, the way a mother prepares for her newborn. As the darkness of the season deepens it is comforting to know God is sending someone to meet me on the way, someone who will bring good news and will make me—and all of us—welcome even in the darkness. In the end, it is a mixed metaphor of both death and birth, of waning and waxing.

Waiting

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

almost top view of fancy liturgical candles on a gold mount.Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

All this waiting.

I’m tired of waiting.

And here I find myself in an entire season of waiting.

I’m tired of waiting for friends and family to find jobs.

I’m tired of waiting for the housing market to rebound.

I’m tired of waiting for the country to stop arguing about divisive issues with derogatory discourse.

I’m tired of waiting for my denomination to stop fighting to its death over who gets to be a minister and instead start ministering to the wounds of the world—including the ones we ministers have caused.

I’m tired of waiting to find time for ritual artistry, mission vision and sermon creation at the end of the week after the administration and budget balancing work is done.

And now, in this season of waiting and anticipation of the beautiful light of Christmas, it seems there are even more things both to do and to fail to do, more finances to worry about, more details to manage and more necessary distractions.

When did we change from the children who couldn’t wait for Christmas to arrive to the adults who can’t wait until Christmas is over?

How is it we find ourselves hurtling toward the Holy Child each year as one more task to get past?

Just wait until next Christmas, we promise ourselves, it won’t be this way next year!

But why wait?

Start now, with 12 days left until Christmas Eve.

Reclaim THIS Christmas right now.

There really is no need to just wait until next year.

Pause a moment now, yes, wait just a moment, and consider what most evokes the holy to you in this season. Spend another moment and let yourself be surrounded by that particular sense of the holy.

Now, in the 12 days that remain, consider one life-giving activity or tradition or memory from childhood or years past, and find another moment or two to remember it or even reclaim it.

One year, for me, this was to open a set of angel candle chimes from their 99-cent box, build them, light them and watch the angels spin from the rising heat of the candlelight. The table they were on was a mess, but I didn’t care. All I saw was the light and motion, and I heard the faint sound of a Christmas long past that became Christmas present.

What in your church, what in your home, what in your heart would give you a holy moment?

In each day, in those odd moments of reflection or even concern, pause to consider the holy.

Pause to surround yourself with a holy memory or create a holy moment.

Pause with the hope and prayer that come Christmas Eve, your season will already be filled with holy remembrances, holy moments and holy light.

Welcome the Holy Child with your heart already filled with a sense of Divine presence in your life.

We wait each year for the celebration of Divine Light in our lives, yet there really is no need to wait.

The Holy Light shines already.

Divine Creator, in this season of anticipation, guide us toward our hopes for the future fueled by our fondest memories of the past. We pause in prayer and in hope that in any moment time expands to fill with the Holy Light of Divine Love. In your most holy names we pray, Amen.

***

Rev. Karen Clark Ristine is a minister at Mission Hills United Methodist Church. After more than 20 years as a journalist, she entered seminary in 2006 and has been working in ministry ever since. After a lifelong tradition of sending out scores of Christmas cards each year, she was surprised to discover the irony that, as a minister, she no longer seemed to have time to continue that tradition. 

Lost in God

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

Someone asked, “What is love?” God answered, “You will know when you lose yourself in Me.”

–Jalalal-din Rumi, 13th century Sufi mystic

For the Sufi mystic, losing oneself in God is the answer. In the modern world, though, how many of us can completely lose ourselves in the search for God? Between getting the kids ready for school and feeding our families, working, and volunteering for our faith community, some of us may feel as if we have lost God in the process of living. But it is important to recognize that God is waiting for us to get closer and lose ourselves in God’s loving embrace. Living can be found in losing oneself. But how does one do this?

Like the Jewish mystics, you might lose yourself in the sacred scriptures. You could spend 15 minutes each morning, reading and reflecting on what the words you read mean to you. Perhaps you could journal your thoughts—giving yourself the deadline of Christmas—like a countdown of this holy month, which culminates in the celebration of the birth of baby Jesus. Rejoice in the gift of the one who so loves us. When you awaken on Christmas morning, read your journal and witness a birth of a new you.

Likewise, you might find, like the Sufi mystics, that music and dance is a useful tool for losing yourself in God. Decide today to spend each day rocking out to the music of your choice. Lose yourself in the words and sing at the top of your lungs. Spin around as if you are a Whirling Dervish and feel the loving embrace of God as you meditate on the beauty of the music spread before you—tantalizing your ears and heart. Feel your love of God in your body and lose yourself in this feeling.

This is the month of peace, forgiveness and love. In losing yourself in God, you just may find more of these in your life. Now, that is living!

Prayer:

Dear God, may I find a way to lose myself in you, each day, during this holy month. I recognize that sometimes I am so busy; and I cannot imagine how I can squeeze in another minute, but I desire to love more and thus live more. I covenant to spend time with you each day and, I hope I will find that the greatest gift given to me, when I awaken this Christmas morning, is the gift of life and…love. You said, “…faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13) I believe this, God. I will seek it, starting today. Amen.

***

Summer Albayati-Krikeche is a woman who speaks inside and outside of the church. She is a candidate for ordained ministry in the Unitarian Universalist church, and serves as an intern chaplain at Hoag Hospital in Newport Beach. While studying in seminary, Summer felt that all of the sacred scriptures called us to help the oppressed. Shortly, thereafter, she decided to help those considered the most marginalized in any society—orphans. In 2009, Summer founded Orphan Whispers, a nonprofit that helps orphans in conflict and post-conflict societies, and is currently focusing on the orphans in Iraq.  

Mr. Santa Chase

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

Nevertheless, those who receive instruction in the word should share all good things with their instructor. Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. People reap what they sow. Those who sow to please their sinful nature, from that nature will reap destruction; those who sow to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

Galatians 6: 6-10 (TNIV)

I was seven years old when Santa Claus appeared on my doorstep-long white beard, skinnier than I imagined and dressed in ‘normal clothes’ (perhaps he was going incognito for Christmas morning). But there he was! Carrying a package just for me!

My parents were delighted and looked relieved, and I was overjoyed to receive a handmade SASHA doll that Christmas! What a joyful day!

Charles Chase, aka SantaAs I grew up, I recognized Santa Claus in our small town. He worked in a shop called the Folk Music Center and was known-in his Claremont, California home as Mr. Chase. Mr. Chase (my Santa) made appearances throughout the year at the shop that sold those special dolls, along with guitars, ukuleles, banjos and drums, music from all over the world and the most fascinating coloring books I’d ever seen. The Folk Music Center, I imagined, was the southern California outpost of Santa’s Workshop, specializing in all-things-hippy.

Later in my life I heard the story from my parents’ perspective. As they were doing their Christmas shopping at the Southern California outpost of the Santa’s Workshop. they mistakenly picked up the display model container without the doll inside. They did not realize the container was empty until Christmas Eve when they were wrapping up the gifts for the grand unveiling on Christmas morning. Panicked, they phoned Santa at his home late Christmas Eve and asked him for some help. Instead of a cranky daughter who would open an empty package on Christmas morn, they woke to a delighted and amazed little girl who’d been privileged to a personal visit from Santa himself.

Mr. Chase, in his decision to help out a frazzled and panicked set of young parents, is the embodiment of Paul’s words in Galatians 6: 9-10:

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.

If we sow the seeds of love, joy, peace and hope in the busy holiday season, we will reap the harvest of the gospel of Jesus Christ! Conversely, if we sow the seeds of anxiety, distraction, stress and dysfunction, we will reap the harvest born of those negative things.

In our franticness and stress have we given up trying to do good? When does our activity become a spiritual detriment? How can we be the embodiment of the good news for others this season?

***

Rev. Dr. Krista S. Givens is a native of Southern California, where she began her work experience as an artist. She achieved her Bachelor’s Degree in Studio Art from Scripps College in 1994. Her call from God occurred rather suddenly in 1998 and God provided a path to attend seminary. Krista is a proud graduate of the Claremont School of Theology achieving her Masters of Divinity in 2001 and her Doctor of Ministry degree in 2007. Her doctoral thesis was centered in Ethics and pertains to the disciplinary rule for single pastors to be celibate and is titled: A Choice for Whole Love: Single and Celibate in the United Methodist Church. Krista’s previous appointments include an Associate Pastor position to the congregation of Kailua United Methodist Church in Kailua, Hawaii and a Senior Pastor position to the congregation of Westchester United Methodist Church in Los Angeles. She was ordained as an Elder in the California-Pacific Annual Conference in 2005 and has been the pastor at Hamburg’s International United Methodist Church since 2007.

At the Same Table

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

Psalm 35
Luke 22:14-30

Today we find ourselves in the second week of Advent, not only preparing to celebrate the incarnation of Jesus Christ, but looking even further into his life and ministry. Today we find Jesus near the end, gathered at the Passover meal, “eagerly desiring” to be at table one last time with those gathered in his midst. Soon after, he would be betrayed by one of his own, charged, convicted, and executed.

We look back to Psalm 35, a prayer for God’s help by a person accused falsely, persecuted by his enemies. The psalmist calls upon God to fight against those who fight him. The psalmist cries, “How long, O Lord, will you look on? Rescue me from their ravages, my life from the lions.” He continues, saying, if you save my life from these enemies of mine, then I will praise you.

The psalmist believes in his heart that God wants all servants of God to be well. Yet he struggles with reconciling how suffering at the hands of his enemies could possibly be in the interest of a great God.

How have you been repaid evil for good in your life? What is God’s role in any struggles or sufferings you face? How do you expect God to respond when you experience discrimination, singling out, or maltreatment?What might be the response of Jesus to such experiences?

Jesus, like the psalmist, is about to suffer at the hands of his enemies in today’s Gospel passage from Luke. Peter will deny him. Judas will betray him. What does he do? Unlike the psalmist, Jesus does not beg and plead with God. He does not wish for his enemies to suffer. Jesus instead gathers his friends and enemies all together, in one room. In their midst institutes the sacrament of Holy Communion, telling them, “do this in remembrance of me.” Gather together, share with one another, and be nourished.

After friends and enemies alike eat together. Jesus knows one will betray him. They almost immediately miss the point, arguing about who among them might be greatest. Even after a shared feast, they ask, “who will be first among us?” Jesus meets his disciples in their brokenness, and calls them toward wholeness. It’s a wholeness only encountered by being together.

Jesus calls us to gather with friends and enemies alike. Jesus calls us to sit at table with our enemies, along with our friends. Because it is in a place of nourishment, of community, of sharing, of reconciliation, that God ultimately works through each of us to restore us to wholeness.

This Advent, we are called to wait patiently for the coming of Christ. In places of prejudice, exclusion, and struggle, we patiently wait, continuing to meet face-to-face with even our enemies at table. In doing so, in opening our hearts even to those who hate us, we run the risk of running into the very Christ we thought had run from us.

***

Rev. Allison Rainey English serves as Associate Priest at St. Wilfrid of York Episcopal Church in Huntington Beach, California. Allison graduated from Claremont School of Theology with a Master of Divinity in 2008. Her passions for work in the church include liturgical development, pastoral care, youth ministry, and responsible social engagement/community building among the church.

No Vacancy

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

Luke 2:1-7

It was 9:30 on Saturday night the weekend after Christmas. We had driven 16 hours in one day and it was time to settle into a hotel. I had visions of my son waking up in Sedona and we would relive the western movies as the highlight of our trip from Wisconsin to California. My dreams quickly shifted as each hotel sign read, “No Vacancy.” No problem. We headed up to Flagstaff—there were tons of hotels there. Forty miles later we entered Flagstaff. The Christmas lights twinkled against the snowy background. The bustle of the city felt welcoming to our weary minds. We stopped at the Super 8. No vacancy. Days Inn. No vacancy. Marriott. No vacancy. I drove to the next set of hotels, and each one no vacancy. The expensive hotels. No vacancy. I drove down the main strip, into every little dive hotel. Before we could climb out of the car the sign switched to No Vacancy.  How can a city with more than 70 hotels not have a room! The people coming out of the hotel were the same ones we saw at the last stop—they too were looking. No Vacancy. I was beginning to feel like Mary and Joseph entering Bethlehem with no room for them to sleep.

Finally—one lone hotel—vacancy! I pulled in, ran into the office. It offered a king bed and we needed two beds. I went out to ask my son what he wanted to do. I stood there in amazement as a lady in a white pick-up and red trailer drove by the side of my parked car, scraping the entire driver’s side with her trailer until our tires locked together and she could drive no further. When she got out of her truck, she looked at me and said, “Don’t think I am going to be entirely responsible for this!”

Not only was there no room in the inn, now my donkey was broken! We were hours from home, it was 25 degrees out, the car was broken, and the only hotel room available just went to the next person. I imagine the people Mary and Joseph encountered as rude and uncaring as my encounter in Flagstaff—every aspect from the neon signs, the tired people trying to find a place to stay, the angry front desk clerks, and the faultless woman in the truck, it all said, ‘Go away! You are not welcome!’ Flagstaff may not have been Bethlehem, but it was that night.

Have you ever felt so unwelcomed? Have you made someone else feel that way? Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem after traveling for days across the desert. Bethlehem means house of bread. Imagine a city full of bakeries…can you smell the aroma of bread drifting through the air?  Bethlehem was bustling with activity. It was time for the census. People were gathering with cousins and old friends similar to a family or class reunion, filling up every room available. The city that was full of life was not warm, but cold. The people had cold hearts and the innkeepers were tired of answering the door: “go away, we are full!”  Regardless of the people or location and hospitality available, the baby Jesus was born.

This Advent/Christmas season many people will close the doors on others who are in need. Every Christmas, Christ tries to enter into a world that is cold and uncaring, but a few will welcome him with loving hearts. There are many people waiting for someone who has arrived already to the majority of the world but not to them. They are waiting for new liberation from the pains of AIDS; from the frustration of immigration; for the curing of their addictions; waiting for the promise of new life and hope when life doesn’t seem to let up. How will you prepare your heart to receive the gift of love? In what ways can you share the love of God with someone close to you or a stranger in need? How can you be a channel of God’s care for them? May the Spirit of God open your heart, minds, and doors to welcome the Christ child with love.

***

Rev. Susan Oeffler

Divine Partnering

by Advent 2011 Guest Writer

They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have people call them rabbi. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students.

—Matthew 23:1-12

What drives our actions? Jesus points to the scribes and Pharisees saying (paraphrased) “do what they teach and not what they do.” Jesus says that the teachings may be in the right place, but not their hearts. What compels them to share wisdom? In this text, we are introduced to people who do work for their own desires including taking places of honor and prestige in the community.

There are a number of actions we take to better ourselves. Giving our time, talent, and treasure to important causes feels good. There are also times we take action because it makes us look good or makes us feel better about ourselves.

I entered college and graduate school to strengthen some of my skills and increase my knowledge so that I could make a bigger contribution to the world—but that wasn’t the whole reason. I discovered that deep inside I was hoping that I would somehow attain deeper respect from others and feel better about my place in the world. I was also feeling a bit insecure about being a lesbian woman entering the ministry. My feelings became more apparent when I heard the story of a local college professor who was called an epithet based on his sexual orientation when all he wanted to do was share a drink with friends. I was saddened to hear of the event and realized that even if I had the letters “Rev.” or “Dr.” in front of my name, I would not be shielded from harm. I was going to school, in part, because I thought my education could protect me. The truth is that if I desire to do what is right and honor God, I am choosing a challenging path. The lives of Jesus and the prophets show us all too clearly how those who carry the message of love and peace are not always readily received.

We cannot do this work alone. Because of this, we cannot expect to take all the credit, either. This work of honoring God with our lives requires nothing short of the power of God acting in and through us.

God gives us a glimpse of the peaceable realm when those who wish to store up all the glory for themselves will be humbled and those who are humbled will be celebrated. It is when we are most humble that we are able to truly experience peace and witness the power of God.

Oh God, it is said that I must decrease in order for you to increase within me. I pray that desires for my own will may decrease that I may discover how the unique gifts you have freely given me can be fine tuned to live out your will to bring about the peaceable realm. Amen.

***

Angela Henderson, M.Div. currently serves as the Unitarian Universalist campus minister at UC Davis. She graduated with her Master of Divinity degree from Claremont School of Theology in 2010 and is a candidate for ministry.

Waiting, Watching

by Amanda

When I was in elementary school I loved Fridays. Not only was it “tater tot day” in the cafeteria, but every Friday we played dodgeball during PE. Dodgeball was one of my favorite games; running, jumping, and yes, even the occasional opportunity to throw a ball at your classmate! (You know the one!) However, one of the best aspects of dodgeball was even when you were “tagged out” and having to wait on the sidelines, if your teammate caught an opponent’s ball your teammate could choose to have you come back into the game thus giving you a “do-over.” What I have learned in life as well as in dodgeball, is that the waiting can be hell. How absurd then that Advent, a whole season in the Christian tradition, is about waiting.

Like most seminarians I was coerced into studying biblical languages; it was just one of the many gifts of seminary. Through all the blood, sweat, and tears studying these languages caused me, I learned to love and value the original meaning of each intended word. For example, the words for waiting in both Greek and Hebrew are used at times as synonyms for watching. To make things worse, both languages suggest an attitude for which these two verbs should happen—both positive. Excuse me, but I am a child of the 80s. My generation has never known life without a microwave! We don’t wait well. According to the biblical languages, I am told not only to wait, but to be positive about it! It was one thing to wait on the sidelines as a kid, but as an adult? Come on! Let’s just be honest: waiting is about being in transition and transition can bring up a multitude of feelings, most of them unpleasant!

Over the last three months I have had a crash course in waiting, watching, and attitude adjustments. After almost a year of prompting by Spirit I did it; I quit my job, packed my stuff, and moved me and my dog to the great state of Washington in order to pursue more education. In my head I expected everything to be nicely wrapped and just waiting on me—after all, I did what Spirit prompted. I knew things would eventually work out, but did not expect to be waiting on a job, especially in this economic climate. As you can imagine, as the days passed with no calls of offers the fears grew and the questions began to surface. The questions soon led to deeper questions which I now see was part of the watching/preparing. The time I was able to dedicate to these questions has had a profound impact on the way I will go about my future work and practice. I almost missed it because I was too busy grumbling, complaining, and cursing at God about the waiting and so I forgot to participate in the watching. What I have learned (or maybe re-learned) is that the gift of waiting is the watching. Watching is finding God in the present even when the present is filled with uncertainty. Watching is our part; our participation which we do by asking the questions and going ahead by preparing ourselves as if that for which we are waiting is already here.

This year, my Advent is remembering that no matter how much I think I know what I need, God knows more. God is more creative than my wildest dreams, and when God insists that I wait, it is for a reason! My job offer did come and once again I was humbled and in awe not only because of the job itself, but because of the details that are so tailored to my situation—this job was created for me. If you find yourself like me, questioning and doubting while waiting, watch for the gift within the present and remember, God is always on time.

Prepare, Be Silent.

by Rev. Kelli

In the days of King Herod of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly order of Abijah. His wife was a descendant of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years. Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside. Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.” Zechariah said to the angel, “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.” The angel replied, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. But now, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.” Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. When he did come out, he could not speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the sanctuary. He kept motioning to them and remained unable to speak. When his time of service was ended, he went to his home. After those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. She said, “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.”

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary.

—Luke 1: 5-27

During Advent we hear a lot about the coming of the baby Jesus, and that coming is the cause for our celebration at Christmas. On this second Monday of Advent, however, Jesus is not yet here. But there is another Advent baby who is already here. It is John the Baptist whom we often hear of in Advent. John the Baptist who as a grown man will cry from the wilderness, “prepare the way of the Lord!”

But who is the John the Baptist? Where did he come from? The first chapter of Luke tells us that John is the son of Zechariah, a temple service priest, and Elizabeth, a cousin of Mary. We often come across the text, during Advent, in which the pregnant Elizabeth and the pregnant Mary meet and the baby in Elizabeth’s womb is said to leap at the approach in the womb of Mary. It is a scripture from later in Luke that points not only to the divinity of Jesus but that divinity being present and recognized before Jesus’ birth.

We seem to know Elizabeth, cousin of Mary, bearer of the prophet who proclaims the divinity of the human Jesus. But who is this Zechariah? Well, he is a priest—so what do the clergy know? And are they not the ones who will later bring Jesus to Pilate? Well, yes this is true. But, Zechariah is not just a priest; he also has a profound spiritual experience in meeting the Angel Gabriel not just in the temple, but behind the veil of the temple in the Holy of Holies—where only a priest could approach. It is here that Gabriel approaches Zechariah, as opposed to beside the kitchen table where Gabriel approaches Mary. And Zechariah, being the priest he is, argues with the angel, wanting to know how this can be so, wanting to know how the impossible can come to be true. We have no way of knowing how the angel emotionally reacts, if he is angry or annoyed with Zechariah; likely for an angel it is none of these emotions, as we understand them. What we do know is that Gabriel admonishes Zechariah for questioning rather than believing, and then proclaims that Zechariah will be silent until this child is born.

The story of Zechariah can be read as a harsh critique on the clergy and perhaps it should be. We clergy need to remember we do not know it all, just as those we minister to sometimes need to be reminded that we are not perfect. Perhaps this is so, but in the season maybe there is a more seasonal meaning to draw from the text. Perhaps it is a reminder to all of us to listen and prepare for the most unexpected impossible event of all time.

Perhaps this text is an invitation to listen to God. To ponder not just the words in our own hearts, but to ponder the words of God, and to ponder those individual spiritual experiences we are blessed to have. Perhaps we even need a harsh a reminder to be silent and to watch and listen for what God is doing. For only then can we be prepared to welcome, and respond to and with God in the world.