tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39707868002407774492024-03-12T21:57:55.804-05:00Keeping the SeasonFaith, art, and beauty: reflections on the liturgical season.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.comBlogger611125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-82385553371682812812016-12-03T08:00:00.000-06:002016-12-03T08:00:22.318-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Saturday): The Companionable Dark<div style="text-align: center;"><i>The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined. (Isaiah 9:2)</i><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/jmtimages/4275676221/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="let the sun shine brightly on your weekend"><img alt="let the sun shine brightly on your weekend" height="640" src="https://c6.staticflickr.com/3/2797/4275676221_640d896d89_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/7vPXzx">let the sun shine brightly on your weekend</a>" by Jack, on Flickr</td></tr></tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script></div><br /><b>The Companionable Dark</b><br />by Kathleen Norris<br /><br />of here and now,<br />seed lying dormant<br />in the earth. The dark<br />to which all lost things come -- scarves<br />and rings and precious photographs, and<br />of course, our beloved dead. The brooding dark,<br />our most vulnerable hours, limbs loose<br />in sleep, mouths agape.<br />The faithful dark,<br />where each door leads,<br />each one of our, alone.<br />The dark of God come close<br />as breath, our one companion<br />all the way through, the dark<br />of a needle's eye.<br /><br />Not the easy dark<br />of dusk and candles,<br />but dark from which comforts flee.<br />The deep down dark<br />of one by one,<br />dark of wind<br />and dust, dark in which stars burn.<br />The floodwater dark<br />of hope, Jesus in agony<br />in the garden, Esther pacing<br />her bitter palace. A dark<br />by which we see, dark like truth,<br />like flesh on bone:<br /><i>Help me, who am alone,<br />and have no help but thee.</i><br /><br />Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-84731572878152151582016-12-02T08:00:00.000-06:002016-12-02T08:00:41.079-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Friday): Oh Light<div style="text-align: center;"><i>In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1:1-5)</i><br /><br /><iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZcZGS8sfEFk?showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-58502116137446203702016-12-01T08:00:00.000-06:002016-12-01T08:00:07.068-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Thursday): Stars<div style="text-align: center;"><i>In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. (Genesis 1:1-4)</i><br /><br /><iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1StGNOouOB4?showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div><br /><b>Stars</b><br />by Sara Teasdale<br />musical setting by Ēriks Ešenvalds<br /><br />Alone in the night<br />On a dark hill<br />With pines around me<br />Spicy and still, <br /><br />And a heaven full of stars<br />Over my head<br />White and topaz<br />And misty red; <br /><br />Myriads with beating<br />Hearts of fire<br />The aeons<br />Cannot vex or tire; <br /><br />Up the dome of heaven<br />Like a great hill<br />I watch them marching<br />Stately and still. <br /><br />And I know that I<br />Am honored to be<br />Witness<br />Of so much majesty. Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-35717921600758476152016-11-30T08:00:00.000-06:002016-11-30T08:00:00.154-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Wednesday): The Song of Peace<div style="text-align: center;"><i>He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord! (Isaiah 2:4-5)<br /></i><br /><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/j-ijpG2aWKE?showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /></div><br /><b>The Song of Peace</b><br />by Lillian Atcherson<br />music by Olaf Christiansen<br /><br />The heavens opened wide one night to let the angels through, <br />who sang for earth the “Song of Peace” that only heaven knew <br />Though centuries have measured time, with each unfolding year,<br />the song still lives in human hearts to bring new hope, new cheer <br />We seek with bursting missiled power to pierce the realm of blue, <br />but love divine unfurled the skies to let a song come through.<br />Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-18703091179405645562016-11-29T08:00:00.000-06:002016-11-29T08:00:13.265-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Tuesday): Of the Empire<div style="text-align: center;"><i>[Jesus said,] "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."(Luke 21:25-28)</i></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/lorenzoclick/15651252632/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Roman ruins"><img alt="Roman ruins" height="426" src="https://c1.staticflickr.com/4/3932/15651252632_b2718ca238_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/pR3L8j">Roman ruins</a>" by Lorenzoclick, on Flickr</td></tr></tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br /><b>Of The Empire</b><br />by Mary Oliver<br /><br />We will be known as a culture that feared death<br />and adored power, that tried to vanquish insecurity<br />for the few and cared little for the penury of the<br />many. We will be known as a culture that taught<br />and rewarded the amassing of things, that spoke<br />little if at all about the quality of life for<br />people (other people), for dogs, for rivers. All<br />the world, in our eyes, they will say, was a<br />commodity. And they will say that this structure<br />was held together politically, which it was, and<br />they will say also that our politics was no more<br />than an apparatus to accommodate the feelings of<br />the heart, and that the heart, in those days,<br />was small, and hard, and full of meanness. <br /><br /><br />Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-18146608675477643742016-11-28T08:00:00.000-06:002016-11-28T09:14:25.078-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Monday): Every Day<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. (Romans 13:11-12)</i></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/kahlua_jones/15350994706/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Dawn."><img alt="Dawn." height="426" src="https://c3.staticflickr.com/3/2942/15350994706_a750a64fcb_b.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/povRUw">Dawn.</a>" by Angel Ortega, on Flickr</td></tr></tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br /><b>Every Day</b><br />by Jonathan Walton, from <i>The Second Verse</i>, 2006<br /><br />The eye of heaven<br />pours its luminance<br />upon the Earth<br />and stirs its inhabitants<br />into a new beginning<br /><br />Beaks are released<br />from the tufts of wings<br />and nature’s chorus<br />surrenders new songs<br />for a new day<br /><br />Eyes of all kinds<br />rise to find light<br />filling all spaces<br />‘tis a blessed sight<br /><br />To behold this new day<br />begun in the same way<br />it may seem routine<br />and hold no special place<br /><br />But every single time<br />that light cracks the east sky<br />it is the most amazing moment<br />up to that point in life<br /><br />Because without that awakening<br />That initial opening of your eyes<br />There is no success or excellence<br />no chance of opportunity<br /><br />Each and every day<br />dawn stretches her arms<br />out over the mountains<br />and down into the valleys<br />Into each inlet<br />and across every island<br />Around every sound<br />and through each isle<br />We all have the greatest<br />reason to smile<br />Because endless--<br />are our possibilities<br />Amazing--<br />is our potential<br />Life is waiting for us<br />And we must be ready to meet it.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-41834242218241908252016-11-27T08:00:00.000-06:002016-11-28T09:14:25.108-06:00Keeping Advent (1A Sunday): Wake Awake<div style="text-align: center;"><i>[Jesus said to his disciples,] "About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming." (Matthew 24:36, 42)</i><br /><br /><iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3OEttEKrLNk?showinfo=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-42523454383563001982016-03-25T08:00:00.000-05:002016-03-25T12:37:34.650-05:00Good Friday & Annunciation: Mary speaks<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/waitingfortheword/5605235218/in/photostream/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Pieta - Death of Christ 01"><img alt="Pieta - Death of Christ 01" height="640" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5024/5605235218_35df3c63b3_o.jpg" width="549" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/9xji9w">Pieta - Death of Christ 01</a>" by Waiting for the Word, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Reading for the Annunciation of Our Lord: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325926662">Luke 1:26-38</a></b><br />
<b>Reading for Good Friday: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325926749">John 18:1-19:42 </a></b><br />
<br />
<b>Mary Speaks</b><br />
by Madeleine L'Engle<br />
<br />
O you who bear the pain of the whole earth, I bore you.<br />
O you whose tears gave human tears their worth, I laughed with you.<br />
You, who when your hem is touched, give power, I nourished you.<br />
Who turn the day to night in this dark hour, light comes from you.<br />
O you who hold the world in your embrace, I carried you.<br />
Whose arms encircled the world with your grace, I once held you.<br />
O you who laughed and ate and walked the shore, I played with you.<br />
And I, who with all others, you died for, now I hold you.<br />
May I be faithful to this final test, in this last hour I hold my child, my son;<br />
His body close enfolded to my breast:<br />
The holder held, the bearer borne.<br />
Mourning to joy, darkness to morn.<br />
Open, my arms; your work is done.<br />
<br />
--<br />
<b>The Crucifixion</b><br />
Anonymous, Irish<br />
<br />
At the cry of the first bird<br />
They began to crucify Thee, 0 Swan!<br />
Never shall lament cease because of that.<br />
It was like the parting of day from night.<br />
Ah, sore was the suffering borne<br />
By the body of Mary's Son,<br />
But sorer still to Him was the grief<br />
Which for His sake<br />
Came upon His Mother.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-82238844672209829612016-03-24T08:00:00.000-05:002016-03-24T15:10:23.726-05:00Maundy Thursday: Washing feet<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/janachristy/6872335518/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Dirty Garden Feet"><img alt="Dirty Garden Feet" height="500" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7248/6872335518_aa97d70b94_o.jpg" width="500" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/bthvVq">Dirty Garden Feet</a>" by jana christy, on Flickr</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Reading for the day: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325849062">John 13:1-17, 31b-35</a></b><br />
<br />
<b>Washing Feet</b><br />
by Robert Fawcett<br />
<br />
Being thorough, I remove a holey sock<br />
to view a diabetic man’s filthy feet.<br />
I use the time to complete our talk<br />
of what drove him to live on the street<br />
as I wonder how any of this can help.<br />
<br />
While he tells me more of his medical past,<br />
I run warm water into a stainless bowl.<br />
I immerse both his feet and begin to ask<br />
myself what good it does for this poor soul<br />
to allow himself to undergo this ablution.<br />
<br />
Silently I sluice the water between his toes<br />
and soap the crusty callous at his heel.<br />
I marvel at his arch and notice how closely<br />
it fits my palm. I know he can feel<br />
this proximity too. He shuts his eyes.<br />
<br />
Months of useless layers peel away,<br />
revealing layers useless weeks ago.<br />
Removing the tough brown hide of yesterday<br />
yields clean pink skin, but we both know<br />
this ritual will be useless days from now.<br />
<br />
Still, this moment may withstand time’s test,<br />
teaching us each lessons unknown before.<br />
I learn the medicine of selflessness.<br />
He learns what medicine is really for–<br />
the hope that basin, soap and touch can bear.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-67902149156287196392016-03-23T07:00:00.000-05:002016-03-23T07:00:10.644-05:00Wednesday in Holy Week: Selective loyalty<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/paullew/25351473924/in/dateposted/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Night Had Fallen"><img alt="Night Had Fallen" height="640" src="https://farm2.staticflickr.com/1525/25351473924_db3a998b3a_o.jpg" width="639" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/ECdVY1">Night Had Fallen</a>" by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P., on Flickr</td></tr>
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<br />
<b>Reading for the day: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325680451">John 13:21-32</a></b><br />
<br />
<b>99 Psalms, #2</b><br />
by SAID<br />
<br />
lord,<br />
make room<br />
for the rebellious one i am<br />
for my angerless hands<br />
for my selective loyalty<br />
that betrays everything<br />
except dreams and prayersMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-51080837882651511602016-03-22T08:00:00.000-05:002016-03-22T16:00:18.188-05:00Tuesday in Holy Week: We would see Jesus<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/sagesolar/8285258994/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Still Life Xmas Card"><img alt="Still Life Xmas Card" height="640" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8059/8285258994_c841e08e33_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/dC97R1">Still Life Xmas Card</a>" by Derek Finch, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Reading for the day: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325680404">John 12:20-36</a></b><br />
<br />
from <b>We Would See Jesus</b><br />
by Ann Weems<br />
<br />
That it had to come to this!<br />
That Jesus had to die<br />
in order for us to live!<br />
Just as wheat dies to the earth<br />
and later bears much fruit,<br />
Jesus had to die to the world<br />
that he could live again<br />
for all of us<br />
that we through him could live.<br />
<br />
I had a plant that died one winter.<br />
Because of the ice-covered earth,<br />
I put the plant in the garage,<br />
thinking I would throw it away<br />
when the ice thawed,<br />
wash out the pot, and replant.<br />
<br />
When spring came, I went to <br />
the darkness of the garage<br />
and there in the pot<br />
the plant boomed green.<br />
Resurrection in my face.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-2186213065933245622016-03-21T07:00:00.000-05:002016-03-22T15:59:39.919-05:00Monday in Holy Week: My silence is the Lord<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/tworubies/9036688521/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="feet"><img alt="feet" height="636" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5335/9036688521_e2bc62bdc8_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/eLxoEv">feet</a>" by Kevin K, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Reading for the day: <a href="http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=325680365">John 12:1-11</a></b><br />
<br />
<b>My Silence is the Lord</b><br />
by Brother Paul Quenon<br />
<br />
My silence is the Lord,<br />
I listen, his silence speaks at all times.<br />
When I listen not, my hearing is filled with words<br />
and my tongue takes to rambling.<br />
<br />
My resting place is the Lord<br />
a hideaway on a mountain height.<br />
The lonely seek and find him.<br />
<br />
My resting place is the Lord,<br />
a low valley by the runlet.<br />
All humble steps lead there.<br />
<br />
"Turn in to my place and sit quietly.<br />
Drink from my stream and my vintage.<br />
Cast off your shoes, discard your hardships<br />
and listen to my evening song:<br />
<br />
"I seek a heart that is simple.<br />
With the peaceful I spread my tent.<br />
I will wash your feet and dry them,<br />
my silence will be their perfume.<br />
<br />
"In your quiet steps I will follow.<br />
None will know whence we come and where we go.<br />
To the world you will be my silence,<br />
in your passing they will hear me.<br />
<br />
"In your absence I will be present.<br />
Though you die, I Who Live am yours -<br />
I live as yours forever."Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-32664204065198320162016-03-20T12:00:00.001-05:002016-11-28T09:14:25.982-06:00Palm Sunday - Grand intentions<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/brooklinpictures/5927242458/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Palm"><img alt="Palm" height="612" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6132/5927242458_98d8187683_o.jpg" width="612" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/a2LEFu">Palm</a>" by brooklin, on Flickr</td></tr></tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br /><br /><b>Luke 19:28-40</b><br /><i>After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.<br /><br />When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, <br /><br />“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!<br />Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”<br /><br />Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”</i><br /><br />--<br />Friends, here we are, again, at the beginning of the end. Palm Sunday, our entry into Holy Week, the first movement of a long and difficult story that leads to death, and then to resurrection.<br /><br />Palm Sunday is the beginning, which makes it a bit of a challenge to preach, because every sermon seems unfinished. Jesus has come to the city, but for what? We don’t actually hear the most important parts of the story until later in the week.<br /><br />This year, as I kept pouring over the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem, I found myself thinking most deeply about the disciples, and about how joyful and confident they are in their faith today, and I started thinking about how their faith will crumbles as Jesus gets closer and closer to the cross.<br /><br />Did you notice, when we read from Luke’s gospel today, that unlike the other gospel writers, he doesn’t say anything about palm branches? And the word “hosanna” doesn’t show up? And there aren’t huge crowds of people and children. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem is heralded only by the disciples (who are doing their best to make some noise) and the Pharisees (who are trying to hush them up).<br /><br />Jesus comes down the path, and it is the disciples, the faithful ones, who can't hide their excitement about Christ their king, who is is Son of God, Ruler of the Universe, teacher, healer, redeemer. In this moment, they aren't ashamed of who they are or what they believe. <br /><br />They "praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen" and they shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” It's a reprise of the song of the angels at Jesus' birth<br /><br />Right now, on the hillside, with nobody but a few religious authorities to see them, they don't care that they are making a ruckus, they aren't worried that their shouting might offend the empire. When the authorities rebuke Jesus for this unsightly and unsanctioned demonstration, he says that if the disciples weren’t shouting, the very stones along the path would be crying out.<br /><br />The stones and the disciples alike trust that Jesus is the one who brings cosmic love, forgiveness, redemption, salvation, peace, and grace to the deepest longings and groaning of the universe. I have no doubt that the disciples were sincere and earnest as they cheered alongside the road. They have noble and grand intentions.<br /><br />But things are about to get unsafe. And difficult. And real.<br /><br />There will be an awkward washing of feet and a last family meal. There will be an armed cohort rushing them in the garden, and a kiss of betrayal, and all of the sudden, the obnoxious but neutral Roman occupation will start to feel threatening, and Jesus will be treated as a common criminal, and all of the sudden, all of the beautiful, idealistic visions of Jesus's promised kingdom will seem less immediate and less important than keeping a low profile to save their own skins.<br /><br />Do I think that the disciples intended to desert Jesus in the garden? Do I think that Judas, when he first started following Jesus, intended to become cynical and greedy and bent toward betrayal? Do I think that Peter intended to deny Jesus around the fire? Do I think that the disciples, looking post-resurrection, intended to be so afraid that they would lock themselves away in an upper room?<br /><br />I don't think the disciples intended any of this. <br /><br />They followed Jesus as far as they did because they believed in his vision of an upside-down kingdom. Every miracle that he did, every person he healed, every parable he taught revealed to them a beautiful world of hope and healing, running counter to politics and power as usual.<br /><br />But maybe they hoped that Jesus was exaggerating when he said that this kingdom could only come through suffering and his death. And when things start to look dangerous and bleak for Jesus, and for the disciples by association, their fears start to overcome their faith. Giving into the anonymity off the masses starts to sound appealing. Staying silent seems more prudent than crying out.<br /><br />As I've been preparing for Holy Week this year, I've started to latch on to the absurdity off this holy story at the very heart of our faith. That we need Jesus to be a servant, to give his body for us, to give up his pride and his life on the cross. That somehow death and resurrection bring salvation. It is a crazy-hard sell.<br /><br />So I guess what I’m saying is that on days then the stakes aren’t so high, I’m right there with the cheering disciples who praise Jesus as king. And I am great at talking a big game about how Christ’s suffering redeems our suffering…when there is nothing in particular riding on those words. And sure, I can stand up here and preach inside the safety of the sanctuary that Jesus is Lord.<br /><br />But ask me the last time I started a conversation about the saving grace of the suffering Christ with an acquaintance down at Java John's. Ask me if I always have the courage to believe that God really is suffering along side me when I am feeling lonely as I grieve for myself or for the world. Or ask me the last time that I shamelessly stood up for the plight of the poor, the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless, the immigrant, the refugee, the outcast or the outlaw...without either first putting a disclaimer on my words, or following up my words with an apology.<br /><br />I totally understand the reluctance of the disciples to keep up their cheering as the pathway led closer and closer to the cross. Sometimes, when the stakes get high, it seems far more practical and neutral to stay quiet, lest you offend anybody, and to stay hidden, lest you accidentally admit to yourself or others that maybe you don't have your faith all figured out.<br /><br />This is exactly why we can’t skip from Palm Sunday to Easter.<br /><br />I mean, if life were all Palm Sundays and Easter mornings, then faith would be only confident hosannas and joyous alleluias. And we’d send out the message that being a person of faith means that you always get it right, and you always live up to your end of the baptismal covenant, and that nothing bad happens and nothing ever scares you and somehow faith means that death or despair aren’t real.<br /><br />Except that today we laud a king who is marching into Jerusalem not to pretend that everything is perfect, but to take on every fear, every doubt, every frailty. Jesus did exactly what we could never do. He took the difficult, awkward, painful, shameful, weak stuff in our hearts and in our world, and instead of bringing shame or judgement, he brought redemption and resurrection.<br /><br />It is how salvation is meant to work. <br /><br />God shows up in fragile places: in a helpless baby, in a mortal human form, in an outcast, a suffering servant, one who washes feet and touches lepers and reinterprets himself as the Passover lamb, one who is mocked, tripped, unjustly accused, hungry, thirsty, bleeding, dying.<br /><br />It is the cross that exposes God. It is the cross that exposes us. It leaves nothing hidden and, more importantly, it leaves nothing unredeemed.<br /><br />What a crazy story our faith is. That the God of everything would be brought to nothing so that all of your own weak and worried parts would be brought to new life. So that all of the dark shadows of this world might not win the day. So that the hidden things might be uncovered, and all might be brought to light. Your fear and your shame, our brokenness and our ailing creation. All of it revealed. All of it redeemed. All of it saved.<br /><br />So maybe….maybe we give a little grace to the disciples this week. And maybe we give a little grace to ourselves. It is okay if we don’t have it all together this week, because honestly, the whole story of our faith is about to come unhinged. It’s going to get scary and painful and confusing.<br /><br />So if you get squicked out on Maundy Thursday at the thought of someone washing your feet, it’s ok.<br />If you get angry at Judas for betraying Jesus and if you get angry at Peter for denying Jesus, it’s okay.<br />If you cry on Good Friday when Jesus dies, it’s okay.<br />And if you spend Holy Saturday in a fog, because you really aren’t exactly sure what happens in the waiting space between death and resurrection, it’s okay.<br /><br />If you have grand intentions in faith, but get scared, it’s okay.<br />If you love Jesus but don’t have it all together, it’s okay.<br /><br />The disciples didn’t have it all together, either. <br /><br />And yet…Jesus died to save them anyway.<br />And he died to save you too.<br /><br />Amen.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-74973838135044045222016-03-20T12:00:00.000-05:002016-03-22T12:29:55.509-05:00Palm Sunday - Grand intentions<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/brooklinpictures/5927242458/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Palm"><img alt="Palm" height="612" src="https://farm7.staticflickr.com/6132/5927242458_98d8187683_o.jpg" width="612" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/a2LEFu">Palm</a>" by brooklin, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Luke 19:28-40</b><br />
<i>After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.<br />
<br />
When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, <br />
<br />
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!<br />
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”<br />
<br />
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”</i><br />
<br />
--<br />
Friends, here we are, again, at the beginning of the end. Palm Sunday, our entry into Holy Week, the first movement of a long and difficult story that leads to death, and then to resurrection.<br />
<br />
Palm Sunday is the beginning, which makes it a bit of a challenge to preach, because every sermon seems unfinished. Jesus has come to the city, but for what? We don’t actually hear the most important parts of the story until later in the week.<br />
<br />
This year, as I kept pouring over the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem, I found myself thinking most deeply about the disciples, and about how joyful and confident they are in their faith today, and I started thinking about how their faith will crumbles as Jesus gets closer and closer to the cross.<br />
<br />
Did you notice, when we read from Luke’s gospel today, that unlike the other gospel writers, he doesn’t say anything about palm branches? And the word “hosanna” doesn’t show up? And there aren’t huge crowds of people and children. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem is heralded only by the disciples (who are doing their best to make some noise) and the Pharisees (who are trying to hush them up).<br />
<br />
Jesus comes down the path, and it is the disciples, the faithful ones, who can't hide their excitement about Christ their king, who is is Son of God, Ruler of the Universe, teacher, healer, redeemer. In this moment, they aren't ashamed of who they are or what they believe. <br />
<br />
They "praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen" and they shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” It's a reprise of the song of the angels at Jesus' birth<br />
<br />
Right now, on the hillside, with nobody but a few religious authorities to see them, they don't care that they are making a ruckus, they aren't worried that their shouting might offend the empire. When the authorities rebuke Jesus for this unsightly and unsanctioned demonstration, he says that if the disciples weren’t shouting, the very stones along the path would be crying out.<br />
<br />
The stones and the disciples alike trust that Jesus is the one who brings cosmic love, forgiveness, redemption, salvation, peace, and grace to the deepest longings and groaning of the universe. I have no doubt that the disciples were sincere and earnest as they cheered alongside the road. They have noble and grand intentions.<br />
<br />
But things are about to get unsafe. And difficult. And real.<br />
<br />
There will be an awkward washing of feet and a last family meal. There will be an armed cohort rushing them in the garden, and a kiss of betrayal, and all of the sudden, the obnoxious but neutral Roman occupation will start to feel threatening, and Jesus will be treated as a common criminal, and all of the sudden, all of the beautiful, idealistic visions of Jesus's promised kingdom will seem less immediate and less important than keeping a low profile to save their own skins.<br />
<br />
Do I think that the disciples intended to desert Jesus in the garden? Do I think that Judas, when he first started following Jesus, intended to become cynical and greedy and bent toward betrayal? Do I think that Peter intended to deny Jesus around the fire? Do I think that the disciples, looking post-resurrection, intended to be so afraid that they would lock themselves away in an upper room?<br />
<br />
I don't think the disciples intended any of this. <br />
<br />
They followed Jesus as far as they did because they believed in his vision of an upside-down kingdom. Every miracle that he did, every person he healed, every parable he taught revealed to them a beautiful world of hope and healing, running counter to politics and power as usual.<br />
<br />
But maybe they hoped that Jesus was exaggerating when he said that this kingdom could only come through suffering and his death. And when things start to look dangerous and bleak for Jesus, and for the disciples by association, their fears start to overcome their faith. Giving into the anonymity off the masses starts to sound appealing. Staying silent seems more prudent than crying out.<br />
<br />
As I've been preparing for Holy Week this year, I've started to latch on to the absurdity off this holy story at the very heart of our faith. That we need Jesus to be a servant, to give his body for us, to give up his pride and his life on the cross. That somehow death and resurrection bring salvation. It is a crazy-hard sell.<br />
<br />
So I guess what I’m saying is that on days then the stakes aren’t so high, I’m right there with the cheering disciples who praise Jesus as king. And I am great at talking a big game about how Christ’s suffering redeems our suffering…when there is nothing in particular riding on those words. And sure, I can stand up here and preach inside the safety of the sanctuary that Jesus is Lord.<br />
<br />
But ask me the last time I started a conversation about the saving grace of the suffering Christ with an acquaintance down at Java John's. Ask me if I always have the courage to believe that God really is suffering along side me when I am feeling lonely as I grieve for myself or for the world. Or ask me the last time that I shamelessly stood up for the plight of the poor, the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless, the immigrant, the refugee, the outcast or the outlaw...without either first putting a disclaimer on my words, or following up my words with an apology.<br />
<br />
I totally understand the reluctance of the disciples to keep up their cheering as the pathway led closer and closer to the cross. Sometimes, when the stakes get high, it seems far more practical and neutral to stay quiet, lest you offend anybody, and to stay hidden, lest you accidentally admit to yourself or others that maybe you don't have your faith all figured out.<br />
<br />
This is exactly why we can’t skip from Palm Sunday to Easter.<br />
<br />
I mean, if life were all Palm Sundays and Easter mornings, then faith would be only confident hosannas and joyous alleluias. And we’d send out the message that being a person of faith means that you always get it right, and you always live up to your end of the baptismal covenant, and that nothing bad happens and nothing ever scares you and somehow faith means that death or despair aren’t real.<br />
<br />
Except that today we laud a king who is marching into Jerusalem not to pretend that everything is perfect, but to take on every fear, every doubt, every frailty. Jesus did exactly what we could never do. He took the difficult, awkward, painful, shameful, weak stuff in our hearts and in our world, and instead of bringing shame or judgement, he brought redemption and resurrection.<br />
<br />
It is how salvation is meant to work. <br />
<br />
God shows up in fragile places: in a helpless baby, in a mortal human form, in an outcast, a suffering servant, one who washes feet and touches lepers and reinterprets himself as the Passover lamb, one who is mocked, tripped, unjustly accused, hungry, thirsty, bleeding, dying.<br />
<br />
It is the cross that exposes God. It is the cross that exposes us. It leaves nothing hidden and, more importantly, it leaves nothing unredeemed.<br />
<br />
What a crazy story our faith is. That the God of everything would be brought to nothing so that all of your own weak and worried parts would be brought to new life. So that all of the dark shadows of this world might not win the day. So that the hidden things might be uncovered, and all might be brought to light. Your fear and your shame, our brokenness and our ailing creation. All of it revealed. All of it redeemed. All of it saved.<br />
<br />
So maybe….maybe we give a little grace to the disciples this week. And maybe we give a little grace to ourselves. It is okay if we don’t have it all together this week, because honestly, the whole story of our faith is about to come unhinged. It’s going to get scary and painful and confusing.<br />
<br />
So if you get squicked out on Maundy Thursday at the thought of someone washing your feet, it’s ok.<br />
If you get angry at Judas for betraying Jesus and if you get angry at Peter for denying Jesus, it’s okay.<br />
If you cry on Good Friday when Jesus dies, it’s okay.<br />
And if you spend Holy Saturday in a fog, because you really aren’t exactly sure what happens in the waiting space between death and resurrection, it’s okay.<br />
<br />
If you have grand intentions in faith, but get scared, it’s okay.<br />
If you love Jesus but don’t have it all together, it’s okay.<br />
<br />
The disciples didn’t have it all together, either. <br />
<br />
And yet…Jesus died to save them anyway.<br />
And he died to save you too.<br />
<br />
Amen.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-77579861675481066752016-02-10T08:00:00.000-06:002016-02-10T12:43:08.090-06:00Ash Wednesday: Common dust<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/wiborg/5018234444/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Color"><img alt="Color" height="540" src="https://farm5.staticflickr.com/4154/5018234444_ea7c7a59e4_o.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/8DrLgw">Color</a>" by Thomas Wiborg, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Common Dust</b><br />
by Georgia Douglas Johnson<br />
<br />
And who shall separate the dust<br />
What later we shall be:<br />
Whose keen discerning eye will scan<br />
And solve the mystery?<br />
<br />
The high, the low, the rich, the poor, <br />
The black, the white, the red, <br />
And all the chromatique between, <br />
Of whom shall it be said:<br />
<br />
Here lies the dust of Africa; <br />
Here are the sons of Rome; <br />
Here lies the one unlabelled, <br />
The world at large his home!<br />
<br />
Can one then separate the dust? <br />
Will mankind lie apart, <br />
When life has settled back again <br />
The same as from the start?Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-33946635272251360082016-01-06T07:00:00.000-06:002016-01-06T22:57:48.258-06:00Epiphany: Wise women<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/dionnehartnett/12789885195/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Nothing That Belongs to Us"><img alt="Nothing That Belongs to Us" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7435/12789885195_582ff4046d_o.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/kucvgZ" target="_blank">Nothing that Belongs to Us</a>" by Dee Ashley, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<b>Wise women also came</b> <br />
by Jan Richardson<br />
<br />
Wise women also came.<br />
The fire burned in their wombs long before they saw the flaming star in the sky.<br />
They walked in shadows, trusting the path would open under the light of the moon.<br />
<br />
Wise women also came, seeking no directions, no permission from any king.<br />
They came by their own authority, their own desire, their own longing.<br />
They came in quiet, spreading no rumours, sparking no fears to lead to innocents' slaughter,<br />
to their sister Rachel's inconsolable lamentations.<br />
<br />
Wise women also came, and they brought useful gifts:<br />
water for labour's washing, fire for warm illumination, a blanket for swaddling.<br />
<br />
Wise women also came, at least three of them,<br />
holdingMary in the labour,<br />
crying out with her in the birth pangs,<br />
breathing ancient blessings into her ear.<br />
<br />
Wise women also came, and they went, as wise women always do, home a different way.<br />
<br />
<br />
-from <i>Night Visions: Searching for Shadows of Advent and Christmas</i>, 1998: United Church PressMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-78706568557912388012016-01-04T07:00:00.000-06:002016-01-04T07:00:13.428-06:00Christmas Monday: Lead kindly light<b>Lead Kindly Light</b><br />
by John Henry Newman<br />
<br />
Lead, Kindly Light, amidst th'encircling gloom,<br />
Lead Thou me on!<br />
The night is dark, and I am far from home,<br />
Lead Thou me on!<br />
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see<br />
The distant scene; one step enough for me.<br />
<br />
I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou<br />
Shouldst lead me on;<br />
I loved to choose and see my path; but now<br />
Lead Thou me on!<br />
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,<br />
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years!<br />
<br />
So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still<br />
Will lead me on.<br />
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till<br />
The night is gone,<br />
And with the morn those angel faces smile,<br />
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!<br />
<br />
Meantime, along the narrow rugged path,<br />
Thyself hast trod,<br />
Lead, Saviour, lead me home in childlike faith,<br />
Home to my God.<br />
To rest forever after earthly strife<br />
In the calm light of everlasting life.<br />
<br />
--<br />
<br />
<b>Lead Kindly Light - setting by Dan Forrest</b><br />
<iframe width="853" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wfDpH_Nb50o?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-52051727386856113652016-01-03T07:00:00.000-06:002016-01-03T08:13:27.666-06:00Christmas Sunday: Arise shine<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/22607041@N00/5285163260/in/faves-23154372@N00/" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Advent Calendar - 24th Dec"><img alt="Advent Calendar - 24th Dec" height="640" src="https://farm6.staticflickr.com/5204/5285163260_11416e6c71_o.jpg" width="621" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/942QUu">Advent Calendar - 24th Dec</a>" by Paul Bommer, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b>Isaiah 60:1-3</b><br />
Arise, shine; for your light has come,<br />
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.<br />
For darkness shall cover the earth,<br />
and thick darkness the peoples;<br />
but the Lord will arise upon you,<br />
and his glory will appear over you.<br />
Nations shall come to your light,<br />
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-55417765351635629192016-01-02T07:00:00.000-06:002016-01-02T09:33:03.632-06:00Christmas Saturday: What time is itThe Greek word <i>chronos</i> means "time" in a quantitative sense, chronological time, time that you can divide into minutes and years, time as duration. It is the sense that we mean when we say, "What time is it?" or "How much time do I have?" or "Time like an ever-flowing stream," in one of the hymns that we sing. But in Greek there is also the word <i>kairos</i>, which means "time" in a qualitative sense—not the kind that a clock measures but time that cannot be measured at all, time that is characterized by what happens in it. <i>Kairos</i> time is the kind that you mean when you say that "the time is ripe" to do something, "It's time to tell the truth," <b>a truth-telling kind of time</b>. Or " I had a good time"—the time had something about it that made me glad. The ancient poet who wrote the Book of Ecclesiastes was using time in a kairos sense when he wrote of a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to keep silence and a time to speak.<br />
<br />
-Frederick Buechner, originally published in <i>The Hungering Dark</i> and later in <i>Listening to Your Life</i>.Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-57358741799224953372016-01-01T07:00:00.000-06:002016-01-02T09:36:46.889-06:00Christmas Friday (New Year's Day): O God our help in ages past<iframe width="853" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vtzDNns856Y?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-87927784070369190512015-12-31T07:00:00.000-06:002015-12-31T16:07:30.151-06:00Christmas Thursday (New Year's Eve): In Blackwater woods<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/elf-8/16626203527/in/photolist-rkcD4v-5ArmA6-ege193-cDaFNL-5MRuqt-r4x8fM-i7TcSg-7J81e-Xu9rB-o1o3sv-4Byj82-8Kr5xP-drMbSG-9jBDf7-6yQMRG-bdeB8v-7J7VP-B6U2ni-45XpyY-io1n3B-9VJzpp-dMsSsk-dZmAPq-7oa3X7-8Wv6WC-4e27F4-k3JsDX-8Y36Yv-ieHDxT-5LYx4s-iPWK18-4fNYK4-7sWE8M-4eSLJ5-aJrCHz-aBJiZn-bj6Pzp-4yJ56L-9a1nhs-7wuEWp-gRLnjB-dLiZ9M-5ou5x1-5GnJD8-b3KK46-C681Ar-4bRzp3-8QGt4D-aFdWEE-7v7MrH" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="L'interminable/The never ending/La interminable"><img alt="L'interminable/The never ending/La interminable" height="640" src="https://farm9.staticflickr.com/8702/16626203527_5901f8c1e4_o.jpg" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/rkcD4v">L'interminable/The never ending/La interminable</a>" by Elf-8, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>In Blackwater Woods</b><br />
by Mary Oliver<br />
<br />
Look, the trees<br />
are turning<br />
their own bodies<br />
into pillars<br />
<br />
of light,<br />
are giving off the rich<br />
fragrance of cinnamon<br />
and fulfillment,<br />
<br />
the long tapers<br />
of cattails<br />
are bursting and floating away over<br />
the blue shoulders<br />
<br />
of the ponds,<br />
and every pond,<br />
no matter what its<br />
name is, is<br />
<br />
nameless now.<br />
Every year<br />
everything<br />
I have ever learned<br />
<br />
in my lifetime<br />
leads back to this: the fires<br />
and the black river of loss<br />
whose other side<br />
<br />
is salvation,<br />
whose meaning<br />
none of us will ever know.<br />
To live in this world<br />
<br />
you must be able<br />
to do three things:<br />
to love what is mortal;<br />
to hold it<br />
<br />
against your bones knowing<br />
your own life depends on it;<br />
and, when the time comes to let it go,<br />
to let it go.<br />
<br />
-in <i>New and Selected Poems, Vol. 1</i>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-69600789519208586012015-12-30T07:00:00.000-06:002015-12-31T16:35:54.455-06:00Christmas Wednesday: Glory to God in the highest<iframe width="853" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NdA-ViRj6z8?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-50192060171240896052015-12-29T07:00:00.000-06:002015-12-29T18:00:19.389-06:00Christmas Tuesday: Too much to ask<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a data-flickr-embed="true" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/stephenbwhatley/18015915939/in/dateposted/" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" title="Our Lady of Spring. 2015 by Stephen B Whatley"><img alt="Our Lady of Spring. 2015 by Stephen B Whatley" height="640" src="https://farm8.staticflickr.com/7799/18015915939_94f2383bca_k.jpg" width="447" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="https://flic.kr/p/ts1h9k">Our Lady of Spring 2015</a>" by Stephen B Whatley, on Flickr</td></tr>
</tbody></table><script async="" charset="utf-8" src="//embedr.flickr.com/assets/client-code.js"></script><br />
<br />
<b>Too Much to Ask</b><br />
by Luci Shaw<br />
<br />
It seemed too much to ask<br />
of one small virgin<br />
that she should stake shame<br />
against the will of God.<br />
All she had to hold to<br />
were those soft, inward<br />
flutterings<br />
and the remembered sting<br />
of a brief junction--spirit<br />
with flesh.<br />
Who would think it<br />
more than a dream wish?<br />
an implausible, laughable<br />
defense.<br />
<br />
And it seems much<br />
too much to ask me<br />
to be part of the<br />
different thing--<br />
God's shocking, unorthodox,<br />
unheard of Thing<br />
to further heaven's hopes<br />
and summon God's glory.<br />
<br />
--in <i>Wintersong</i>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-79269951671553795592015-12-28T07:00:00.000-06:002015-12-29T17:41:54.528-06:00Christmas Monday: Mary's song<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D4XRPIiDAf4" width="853"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Mary's Song</b><br />
poem by Luci Shaw<br />
musical setting by Knut Nested<br />
<br />
Blue homespun and the bend of my breast<br />
keep warm this small hot naked star<br />
fallen to my arms. (Rest …<br />
you who have had so far<br />
to come.) Now nearness satisfies<br />
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies<br />
whose vigor hurled<br />
a universe. He sleeps<br />
whose eyelids have not closed before.<br />
His breath (so slight it seems<br />
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps<br />
to sprout a world.<br />
Charmed by doves’ voices, the whisper of straw,<br />
he dreams,<br />
hearing no music from his other spheres.<br />
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes<br />
he is curtailed<br />
who overflowed all skies,<br />
all years.<br />
Older than eternity, now he<br />
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed<br />
to my poor planet, caught that I might be free,<br />
blind in my womb to know my darkness ended,<br />
brought to this birth<br />
for me to be new-born,<br />
and for him to see me mended<br />
I must see him torn.<br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3970786800240777449.post-64398909541143929432015-12-27T07:00:00.000-06:002015-12-29T17:41:44.093-06:00Christmas Sunday: Animated nativity<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-WuS-PSbp_M" width="853"></iframe></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09236978765342471022noreply@blogger.com0