Keeping the Season

"Des pieds et des mains" by Benoit Courti, on Flickr

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

-Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)

"transfiguration" by 0x17.me, on Flickr

Mark 9:2-9
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved listen to him!" Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Annunciation
by Denise Levertov

‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’
From the Agathistos Hymn, Greece, Vic

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.

She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
___

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
___

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –

but who was God.

Luke 1:26-38,46-55
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. And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?" The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God." Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.

And Mary said,
"My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

"All saints' Day - Kära farmor" by Capelson, on Flickr

"They live on, those giants of our childhood. They manage to even take death in their stride. Death may take them, but it can never take our relationship with them. However else they still live on, they still live on in us. Memory is more than looking back to a time gone by; it is looking into another kind of time altogether. A time where everything that was continues to be – and grows and changes with the life that is in us.

The people we loved and who loved us; for good or for ill, taught us things. Dead though they may be, as we come to understand them in new ways, it is though they come to understand us – and we come to understand ourselves – in new ways too.

Who knows what 'the communion of saints' means, but surely it means that these people we once knew are not just voices that have ceased to speak. They are saints because though them the power and richness of life not only touched us once, but continues to touch us still.

They have their business to get on with – moving 'from strength to strength' – whatever that means. We might imagine ourselves on a fading shore as they move on to whatever shore may await them. But they carry with them something of us, as we do of them. And so, to think of them is not only to remember how they used to be. It is, in some way, to see and hear them as they now are.

If they had things to say to us then, they have things to say to us now – as we have to them. And the things now spoken may not be what they once were."

-Frederick Buechner

"Floating Lantern Ceremony" by Ron Paul, on Flickr

All Saints Day Call to Worship

With thanksgiving on my tongue,
I sing praise for the feet of the saints
who walked this path long before me
who pointed out this path to me
who cleared the path with me.

With thanksgiving on my tongue,
I sing praise for the wisdom of the saints
who shared their vision of God’s ways
who lived faithfully by God’s ways
who loved God all the way.

With thanksgiving on my tongue,
I sing praise for the cloaks of the saints
that sheltered my weary soul from the dust
that marked my life for a new adventure
that gave me some flair for the dance.

With thanksgiving on your tongue,
now sing praise for the voices of the saints
who named God within you
who evoked God from you
who gave God to you.

~ written by Rachel Hackenberg, and posted on RevGalBlogPals. http://revgalblogpals.org/author/rachelhackenberg/

Matthew 5:1-12
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
"Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
"Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
"Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

"Sts. Peter and Paul" by romanianicons, on Flickr

Poem for festival of Peter and Paul Apostles, June 29th
by Dan Bollerud

It was OK to follow
schlepping around the Galilean country side
doing what we were told
watching every move Jesus made
feeling the excitement
We had it made in a way
connected to something bigger than ourselves
preparing the way for the kingdom
In our own way we had it made
and then
then he was gone
Oh sure there was the resurrection
and the time spent with us
and the day of Pentecost
and then
then the spotlight went off
the houselights came up
and there we were
Party over
Now what?
Back to the same old
fade into the countryside
disappear
take life easy
and forget about that night
and the rooster crowing

Feed my sheep!
Feed my sheep!
Feed my sheep!
Be made whole again
and go into the whole world
which is not
and never will be
the same again
No longer centre stage
but streets and byways
Find the sheep
and feed them

from the blog Pastor Dan's Grace Notes

“Think of the many, many stories about God choosing people. There are Moses, Abraham, and Sarah; there are David, Jeremiah, Gideon, Samuel, Jonah, and Isaiah. There is Israel itself. Much later there are Peter and Paul, and, most especially, Mary.

God is always choosing people. First impressions aside, God is not primarily choosing them for a role or a task, although it might appear that way. God is really choosing them to be God’s self in this world, each in a unique situation. If they allow themselves to experience being chosen, being a beloved, being somehow God’s presence in the world, they invariably communicate that same chosenness to others. And thus the Mystery passes on from age to age. Yes, we do have roles and tasks in this world, but finally they are all the same—to uniquely be divine love in a way that no one else can or will.”

― Richard Rohr, Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality

Ok. Ignoring the extreme close-ups, the interesting park-bench-esque staging, and the dated clothes...this duet is amazingly beautiful. Kathleen Battle and Jessye Norman singing "There is a Balm in Gilead."


"If you cannot sing like angels, if you cannot preach like Paul, you can tell the love of Jesus, and say 'he died for all...'"

"El Greco - Saint Peter and Saint Paul at Barcelona National Art Museum of Catalonia" by mbell1975, on Flickr

Acts 12:1-11
About that time King Herod laid violent hands upon some who belonged to the church. He had James, the brother of John, killed with the sword. After he saw that it pleased the Jews, he proceeded to arrest Peter also. (This was during the festival of Unleavened Bread.) When he had seized him, he put him in prison and handed him over to four squads of soldiers to guard him, intending to bring him out to the people after the Passover. While Peter was kept in prison, the church prayed fervently to God for him. The very night before Herod was going to bring him out, Peter, bound with two chains, was sleeping between two soldiers, while guards in front of the door were keeping watch over the prison. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him, saying, "Get up quickly." And the chains fell off his wrists. The angel said to him, "Fasten your belt and put on your sandals." He did so. Then he said to him, "Wrap your cloak around you and follow me." Peter went out and followed him; he did not realize that what was happening with the angel's help was real; he thought he was seeing a vision. After they had passed the first and the second guard, they came before the iron gate leading into the city. It opened for them of its own accord, and they went outside and walked along a lane, when suddenly the angel left him. Then Peter came to himself and said, "Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hands of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting."

John 21:15-19
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my lambs." A second time he said to him, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" He said to him, "Yes, Lord; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Tend my sheep." He said to him the third time, "Simon son of John, do you love me?" Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, "Do you love me?" And he said to him, "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you." Jesus said to him, "Feed my sheep. Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go." (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, "Follow me."

"Julian of Norwich" by Robert Lentz, posted by Kittredge Cherry, on Flickr

John 10:1-10
Jesus said, "Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers." Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, "Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly."

---
Growing up, my dad directed the church choir and my mom sang in it. This meant that every Sunday, my sisters and I would sit by my dad in the front row of the sanctuary, in clear sight of the choir loft and my mom’s watchful eye.

Most of the time, I think, we were pretty well behaved. We’d draw pictures on the yellow children’s bulletins, follow along with the hymns, try discreetly to open up our loud velcro wallets to fish out some change for the offering plate. But there were times that we squirmed. That we squabbled. That we poked each other or got the giggles. And in those moments, from behind the organ in the second row of the choir came the mom cough.

Ahem-AHEM.

I could pick that sound out of a lineup.

The whole congregation could cough and clear their voices for the entire service and we’d never notice, but one stifled cough from mom’s throat, and our eyes would dart up to meet her gaze, and we’d sit up a little straighter in our seats, and we’d quit whatever mischief we were dabbling in.

It’s a peculiar thing, isn’t it, that we know so well the sound of our mother’s voice?

Sam is just getting old enough that he recognizes my voice and responds to it differently than other people’s voices. He can be perfectly content in someone else’s arms, but when he hears my voice, he turns to find me, and lurches toward me, and when I take him, he buries his face in my neck, happy to be reunited with the voice that he knows best.

Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. My sheep follow me because they know my voice.”

Like a child recognizing the voice of his mother, like a sheep recognizing the voice of its shepherd, we follow Jesus by the sound of his voice. Christ, the shepherd and guardian of our souls calls to us in a voice so recognizable that we can pick it out of the crowd.

And what a crowd it is.

We are pummeled with voices, aren't we? Every day, voices of all sorts call out to us and demand things of us.

We hear voices on the radio and on television and through the internet. Some of these voices speak truth, and some speak untruth, and some speak fear, and some speak hyperbole. We hear voices in politics, and some speak fact, and some speak dissent, and some speak out of both sides of their mouths, and some speak persuasion rather than common good. We hear our own voices, and some speak confidence, and some speak self-reliance, and some speak self-doubt, and some speak self-criticism.

We hear good advice and bad advice, voices that challenge us and voices that enable us. I think about Job, and how his friends all had something to say to him in the midst of his suffering, and the way that their advice always seemed good on the surface, but ended up lacking.

So in the middle of such a cacophony of voices, how do we pick out the voice of Jesus?

Well, for starters, we can remember that the voice of Jesus has particular power to heal and to restore life.

During Lent and Easter, we have read three different stories that reveal the power of Jesus' voice. He speaks words of healing to the man born blind, and his sight is restored. He calls to Lazarus, dead in the tomb, who responds to the sound of Jesus' voice by emerging from the tomb, alive. And he speaks Mary's name in the garden, and it is only at the sound of his voice that she sees him not as the gardner, but as her risen savior.

Jesus' voice is one that always speaks with healing and life-giving power.

Jesus is the one who says, “I am the bread of life. I am the light of the world. I am the way, the truth, and the life. I am the vine and you are the branches. I am the resurrection and the life. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”

There's an early American hymn that says:

His voice as the sound of the dulcimer sweet, is heard through the shadows of death.
The cedars of Lebanon bow at His feet, the air is perfumed with His breath.
His lips as the fountain of righteousness flow, that water the garden of grace,
From which their salvation the people shall know, and bask in the smile of His face.

Love sits in His eyelids and scatters delight thro’ all the bright regions on high.
Their faces the Cherubim veil in His sight and tremble with fullness of joy.
He looks and ten thousands of angels rejoice, And myriads wait for His word.
He speaks and eternity, filled with His voice, re-echoes the praise of her Lord.

Yes, we can know Jesus' voice by the things he says, by his enduring words of life piercing the shadows of death, by his sweet song of righteousness and salvation, by the sound of eternal and abundant life. Whenever we hear voices that speak forgiveness and mercy, voices that speak peace and life abundant, these are the voice of Jesus.

And the heart of the matter is that the reason we can listen for and recognize Jesus' powerful voice of healing and new life is because we are in relationship with him and he with us.

I know the sound of my mother's mom-cough, and Sam knows the sound of my voice, and we all know the sound of those dear to us, be they parents or spouses or kindred spirits, living or dead, because of the relationship that we have with each other. Knowing one another deeply, and being deeply known.

Jesus says “I know my own and my own know me.”

What a beautiful statement. It's a two-way relationship. One of the failings of popular Christianity is that it overemphasizes our responsibility to come to know Jesus, and underemphasizes Jesus' desire to know us.

But think about the woman at the well, who had no inclination whatsoever that she was speaking to Jesus, and didn't particularly care about knowing the stranger sitting next to her. Jesus was the one seeking relationship. She is amazed that this man, "knew everything I've ever done." Jesus is the first to initiate relationship, and only later does she respond in faith.

Jesus seeks to know us even as he seeks for us to know him. And out of this relationship, we are able, more and more, to hear his voice ringing through this earth, in every song of hope and healing.

The medieval mystic Julian of Norwich describes God in Christ as the one as intimately connected to us as the very mothers who gave us birth:

[Christ] is our Mother in human nature in our essential creation. In Him we are grounded and rooted, and he is our mother in mercy by taking on our fleshliness....In Mother Christ, we benefit and grow, and in mercy He redeems and restores us....This fair lovely word 'mother' is so sweet and so kind in itself, that it can not truly be said of anyone nor to anyone except of Him and to Him who is true Mother of life and of all. To the quality of motherhood belongs natural love, wisdom, and knowledge - and this is God. (from Revelations of Divine Love)

As a mother protects and nurtures her children, so Christ protects and nurtures us whom he loves.

Jesus has put himself into relationship with us, into close kindred with humankind, having himself put on human flesh. He joins us to himself in baptism, in our dying and rising through those waters. He joins us to himself in the bread and wine, as we do something as scandalous and intimate as taking his very body into our hands and hearts and bodies.

He is the good shepherd, leading us beside still waters, along paths of righteousness, through the darkest valleys, to eternal and abundant life. He knows us and we know him, and we hear his voice calling to us, saying to each of us,

"Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. I am your resurrection, and I am your abundant life."

"All Saints' Day" by Lady Nessa, on Flickr

A Litany for All Saints Day
by Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB

O Cosmic Christ,
in you
and through you
and for you,
all things were created;
in you
all things hold together
and have their being.

Through Teilhard de Chardin,
scientist of the cosmos,
you imagined a new heaven and a new earth.
Through Teresa of Avila,
charismatic leader,
you inspired a church of courage and wisdom.
Through Mahatma Gandhi,
great soul,
you became nonviolent in the struggle for justice.
Through Catherine of Siena,
fearless visionary,
you forged a new path for women.
Through Meister Eckhart,
creative mystic,
you refused to abandon the inner light.
Through Hildegard of Bingen,
greenness of God,
you poured out juicy, rich grace on all creation.
Through Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
drum major of freedom,
you shattered racial barriers
and freed dreamers to dream.
Through Anne Frank,
writer and witness,
you preserved goodness in the midst of great evil.
Through Cesar Chavez,
noble farmworker,
you transformed the dignity of human labor.
Through Harriet Tubman,
prophet and pilgrim,
you led the captives into freedom.
Through Vincent Van Gogh,
artist of light,
you revealed the sacredness
in sunflowers
and in starry nights.
Through Thea Bowman,
healer songbird,
you danced the African-American culture
into the Church.
Through Pope John XXIII,
window to the world,
you awakened awareness to the signs of the times.
Through Mother Teresa of Calcutta,
guardian of the unwanted,
you enfleshed a reverence for all life.
Through Thomas Merton,
universal monk,
you explored the sanctity of every human search.
Through Mary Magdalene,
apostle to the apostles,
you ordained women to proclaim the good news.
Through Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
musician of Holy Mystery,
you bathed the world in beauty.
Through Julian of Norwich,
anchoress and seer,
you showed the Mother image of God.
Through Dom Bede Griffiths,
marriage of East and West,
you unveiled the divine face
at the heart of the world.
Through Joan of Arc,
defender and protector,
you remained true to personal conscience
over institutional law.
Through Rumi,
poet in ecstasy,
you illuminated friendship as mystical union.
Through Maura Clarke and Companions,
martyrs of El Salvador,
you rise again in the hopes of the dispossessed.
Through Rabbi Abraham Heschel,
Hasidic sage,
you answered our search for meaning
with wonder, pathos for the poor, and Sabbath rest.
Through Dorothy Day,
pillar of the poor,
you recognized holiness as bread for the hungry.

O Cosmic Christ,
in your heart
all history finds meaning and purpose.
In the new millennium,
in the celebration of jubilee
help us find that which we all seek:
a communion of love
with each other
and with you, the Alpha and Omega,
the first and last,
the yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
the beginning without end.
Amen.

This is, in some ways, a complete antithesis to "For All the Saints" or other grand hymns remembering the saints. I learned it back in seminary, and it's been stuck in my head all day. Instead of lauding the saints that have gone before us, it reminds us that we are all saints, and that there are saints walking this earth, living out God's love in their ordinary lives. Simple and charming, and draws us close to the face of God in our neighbor.



I sing a song of the saints of God
by Lesbia Scott

I sing a song of the saints of God,
Patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died
For the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,
And one was a shepherdess on the green;
They were all of them saints of God, and I mean,
God helping, to be one too.

They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,
And his love made them strong;
And they followed the right for Jesus' sake
The whole of their good lives long.
And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,
And one was slain by a fierce wild beast;
And there's not any reason, no, not the least,
Why I shouldn't be one too.

They lived not only in ages past,
There are hundreds of thousands still.
The world is bright with the joyous saints
Who love to do Jesus' will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
In church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea;
For the saints of God are just folk like me,
And I mean to be one too.

Ephesians 1:11-23
In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God's own people, to the praise of his glory.

I have heard of your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love toward all the saints, and for this reason I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers. I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. And he has put all things under his feet and has made him the head over all things for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

Luke 6:20-31
Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said:"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.

"But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

"But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

---
It happened during worship on a Sunday morning in October, just one year ago. Our gospel reading that morning was of Jesus blessing the children, so we had framed our whole worship service around this idea of blessing. During the children's sermon, we talked about places that we bless people, very much like we did in today's children's sermon. We preached blessing from the pulpit, gathered around the font for our prayers of intercession so as to bless one another, and then, during communion, offered stations for healing and blessing and anointing, very much like we do here each month.

Adele took communion and then came to my kneeler. Ninety-six year old Adele. I knew that she hadn't been feeling well recently, and that she had been to the emergency room too many times over the last weeks. But when I asked her what I might pray for, she simply smiled at me and asked that I might bless her.

And so I did. I prayed for God's blessing, and I prayed for healing, and I prayed for peace. I prayed for comfort and strength, and I thanked God for the beauty shining through her. And then, I dipped my finger into the oil, traced the sign of the cross on her forehead, and said to her, "Adele, you are a beloved child of God, and you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."

Words of blessing pulled straight from her baptism, words of blessing that reminded her of her place among all of us who are God's beloved children, all of us who walk this earth as saints.

In the moment, I thought that I was praying for her healing.

I did not know then that I was actually blessing and anointing her and commending her to her maker.

See, Adele passed away that very night.

I think about the things she asked for during that last day - asking me to bless her, asking her family to take her on an afternoon drive through her favorite park to see the fall colors on the trees, and then, later that evening, when she felt her body failing, asking her family not to call for an ambulance, but rather to let her remain in her house to die in peace.

It shakes me, even now, to think that somehow, in blessing her, I was unknowingly preparing her heart and soul for a peaceful passing.

And it is still a beautiful mystery to me that, on that last morning of her life, when she could have asked for prayers for anything, Adele simply asked to be blessed.

* * *

Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, exclude you, revile you, defame you on account of the Son of Man; rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven."

We each want to be blessed, I think. We each want to know that our lives are beautiful and holy. We look to all the saints who have gone before us, and want to know, deep in our hearts, that our lives have as much meaning and memory as theirs do.

This is why I love Luke's version of the Beatitudes - these statements of blessing that Jesus makes. Because Jesus here doesn't say, "Blessed are they," as if blessing were reserved for other people. Jesus says, "Blessed are you," stretching out his hand over each and every one of us.

The words "blessed are you" remind us that we celebrate All Saints Day today, not merely "Beloved departed Saints Day." For it is not just those who have died who are blessed saints, but each and every one of us who know God's promises.

Those words "blessed are you" send us right back to our baptisms, where we are told: "Blessed are you, for you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever."

The words "blessed are you" remind us that it is God in Christ who does the act of blessing, and not we ourselves; that Jesus points to each of us and says "you are my blessed child," and when we look at the Beatitudes, it is clear that blessing is not dependent on success or failure, or having our act together, or on the amount of faithfulness we have or the amount of doubt that plagues us.

Blessed are you, Jesus says, who have any sort of need. Blessed are you who feel poor and lacking. Blessed are you who feel outcast and imperfect. Blessed are you who are failing in health or in heart. Blessed are you - right here and right now. Blessed are you who are still vulnerable, Jesus says, but woe to you who walk the earth thinking you have it all together or think that wealth and success and victory are the same as being blessed.

Which are things that we mix up all the time. We talk about our successes as blessings and our failures as curses. We watch our sports heroes attribute their team's victory to God's blessing. We credit God for blessing us when times are good and fruitful.

But the truth is that being blessed by God is way way bigger than that. It's not that we are blessed when good stuff happens and cursed when bad stuff happens. And blessing isn't reserved for the deserving or powerful or virtuous or holy, as if those who face dire situations or natural disasters or extreme poverty or abuse are somehow less deserving of blessing.

No, Jesus speaks blessing precisely to each of us in our most vulnerable states. When we are most aware of our mortality and our fragile existence, we are most receptive to hearing God's promises. I don't know if Adele knew that it was her last day on earth or not, but I know that she was in touch with her own frailty on that Sunday morning, especially ready to hear words of blessing.

She and all the saints who have gone before us knew both joy and struggle; we lift them up in our hearts not because they were giants, but because they were human. They are our everlasting symbols of a God who loves all human beings, rough edges and all, and declares us "saints" by the good grace of his mercy alone. They have set for us an example of blessedness, of living into the inheritance promised to us by God, which we read about in Ephesians.

We, with all the saints, have inherited the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. We have inherited redemption in Christ. We have inherited the hope to which God has called us, the greatness of God's power for we who believe, a power revealed to us in Christ being raised from the dead.

We carry much blessing with us, brothers and sisters. To us and to all the saints, much has been given. The earth and all creation, given to us for our care and careful use. Our hopes and joys and inspirations. Our weaknesses and sorrows that tune our hearts for compassion toward others. Our passions and talents and vocations. Gifts of companionship and beauty. Riches, material and immaterial. Our whole lives.

This, really, is what blessing and sainthood are all about: recognizing our blessedness and channeling it into blessing for others.

What we aspire to as blessed saints of God is faithfulness in all - in recognizing at every moment in every day that all we have is from God, and living accordingly. Stewarding every gift we have received, from our very breath to our material blessings; openness to generosity in all, willingness to empty our hands, knowing that God will fill them up again with bread and wine, that is, our inheritance, that is, the very feast of all the saints.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, called to be saints, I pray that you may forever know that God has blessed you beyond measure. I pray that you, like Adele, might know God's hope and peace to the very end of your days, and that your hearts might be satisfied by the assurance of your own belovedness.

* * *

Blessed are you, saints of God, who have been anointed and sealed at baptism, for you have been beatified by water and by spirit.

Blessed are you, saints of God, no matter how weak or vulnerable you feel, for you have the strength and power of Christ in you.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who wait earnestly for God's promises, for in Christ is your fulfillment, hope, and salvation.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who walk with faith upon this earth, for you have turned your hearts to hope and not to despair.

Blessed are you, saints of God, who serve others and strive for peace, for you have been blessed to be a blessing.

from the Fresh Read blog

Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said:
"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."

--Luke 6:20-31

Sunday's gospel began with a discussion of where to sit when you attend a fancy dinner:

"When [Jesus] noticed how the guests chose the places of honor, he told them a parable. When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honor, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, 'Give this person your place,' and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, 'Friend, move up higher'; then you will be honored in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 14:7-11)

This idea of where you choose to sit reminded me of a funny diagram I encountered not too long ago, all about how to pick the best seat at the table depending on its shape and size (click the picture for a bigger view):

Alex Cornell's "Choosing the Right Seat"

To read the full blog post behind the picture, check out Alex Cornell's "Musical Chairs (Choosing the Right Seat)" [apologies for a few instances of colorful language].

I first encountered this post as a humorous recommendation to introverts, to figure out how to partake in communal meals when you don't have a personality much inclined to make conversation or small talk easily. But really, the post is all about how to choose a powerful place at the table. It's about how to guarantee that you don't get stuck talking to somebody boring, or get left out of the important and interesting conversations. I chuckled at the last scenario, with the two tables, when he makes the observation that no matter what you do, the other table will always crystallize into "the superior group," because I've thought that at a few points in my own life. That no matter what I do, the other table ends up being the cool table, or at least the dynamic table.

And so it's not just the Pharisees that Jesus is talking to in this gospel reading. He's talking to us. He's talking to the parts of our brains that scan the room when we walk in, that make calculated decisions about who we want to be seen with and who we want to avoid. And he's telling us that maybe, instead of worrying about how people see us, we should be seeing - and seeking out! - those who aren't usually seen. Sitting at the table which is slower to fill up. Chatting up the people longing to be pulled in.

Because when we all gather at the table on Sundays to share in the Lord's Supper, there are no set-apart places of honor, no jostling for position, no better or worse dinner company. We are all equals, all beloved, all honored and deserving of honor. Because we are part of the communion of all the saints, and we are made one in the body of Christ, and every seat at the table is blessed.

Saint Lucy, by Domenico Beccafumi, 1521

Today is Santa Lucia Day, or the feast day for St. Lucy.

From the Wikipedia page for Saint Lucy:

Saint Lucy (283–304), also known as Saint Lucia or Santa Lucia, was a wealthy young Christian martyr who is venerated as a saint by the Roman Catholic Church, Anglican, Lutheran, and Orthodox Christians. Lucy's Latin name Lucia shares a root (luc-) with the Latin word for light, lux. It is said in Sweden that to vividly celebrate St. Lucy's Day will help one live the long winter days with enough light.

You can read more details about her life and legend in the article - one defining detail of her legend is her eyes were gouged or plucked out, which adds to the symbolism of darkness and light that we attribute to her feast day (and which adds a gruesome touch to all paintings of her!)

I love Santa Lucia Day, because it gives us a clear and beautiful picture of light shining in darkness. About lengthening darkness and the hope of light.

There is a singer-songwriter duo called Storyhill who have written a song referencing Santa Lucia Day and this muddling of darkness and light, both in nature and in our own souls. The song is entitled, "Well of Sorrow," and John Hermanson, one half of Storyhill, says of this song,

I worked in a daycare over in Norway, and in Norway they have a holiday called Santa Lucia Day. They dress up the prettiest, youngest, cutest, blondest, girl in the daycare, and have her parade in with hot cross buns, and she's supposed to bring the happiness and light and joy into the room on the shortest day of the year, the time when the sun starts coming back, each day from then on is longer. But I started thinking about depression...because there's a lot of depression over in Norway, there's actually pretty high suicide rate, and there's a statistic that struck me that actually suicides go up as the light comes back, which is kind of a strange thing. But this is a happy-sounding song, it's hopeful.

The human soul struggles with light as much as it struggles with darkness, I suppose. And even if the darkness pulls us down, it is sometimes hard to step into the light, and to see our lives illuminated. Stepping out of the darkness means bringing everything into the light, the good and the bad. And Advent is messy like this. We are both the "people who walk in great darkness" and the people "who have seen a great light," as Isaiah would say. Sometimes the darkness helps us be quiet, and to feel God's call in our lives ever more clearly. And sometimes we need the light to break in to remind us of God's hope.

And so what I think Santa Lucia can symbolize for us, and what "Well of Sorrow" can sing for us, is that God is always beckoning us to the light, even as God is always with us in the darkness. Hope is what helps us endure the darkness, and hope is what helps us step into the light.


Well of Sorrow
by Storyhill

Come Lucia to the light
Open windows on the brightening snow
And make it though the longest night
A crown of candles for your head tomorrow
I fell in your well of sorrow

You were radiant, all in white arrayed
Long braided hair and burning flame hallow
But I saw through the whole charade
Your red sash and your robe of white were borrowed
I fell in your well of sorrow

Come Lucia to the light
Open windows on the brightening snow
And rage against the coming night
But don't let go of love hat grows in shadow
I fell in your well of sorrow
And I fell in your well of sorrow

Press the play button to start the music, focus on the icon as you listen, and let your heart ponder what it means for you to be waiting for Christ, preparing for Christ's coming, and awakening your soul to God's hope and future for you.

Icon of St. John the Baptist, made in Greece 1993 (from Orthodox Icons)