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Posts Tagged ‘Jesus’

Street blocked with broken trees and ice

The aftermath of the ice storm in our neighbourhood.

On December 23, 2013 Toronto was in the aftermath of the Ice Storm.  Huge swaths of the city were without power.  But I had been visiting “Edith” in palliative care for a number of weeks and I was determined to visit her for Christmas.

I didn’t have power nor internet service at home, and last I had heard on the battery radio the subway was not running where I needed to go.  An hour cab ride later the sun had set by the time I arrived. The hospital was surrounded by darkness.  Inside the corridors were hushed and dim, the whole complex was running on backup power, the lonely corridors filled with the scent of institutional food and humanity…

I walk into Edith’s room – shared with two other people.  Only the emergency lights are on, and outside the window the city is dark as far as I can see.  The two other women in the room are asleep or unconscious – surrounded by loved ones keeping silent vigil.  A breathing machine roars and hisses in the corner pressing a dying grandmother to take one laboured breath after another.

Edith is sitting up and alert.  She greets me:  “You came!  No one else is coming because of some problem on the roads.”  I explain about the ice storm, the city-wide power outages, the trees toppled by the weight of the ice on every street.  Cut off from the news, she didn’t know about the storm. I water her plant, give her a Christmas card and settle in for a visit.  I ask what she remembers of the candlelight Christmas Eve services at her church.  We reminisce about the smell of the oil lamps and the music. Especially the music.

“Since you can’t get to church, shall I read from Luke?” I ask.  She nods.  I pull out last year’s Christmas Eve bulletin – which I had somehow found in my darkened home – and read Luke’s account of the nativity.  In a loud voice, over the roar and hiss of the breathing machine in the corner, I read about angels and shepherds and a newborn baby.

Edith is rapt, soaking up every word.  I can feel the other visitors in the room leaning forward, listening.  “Do not be afraid; I bring you good news of great joy for all people.”  The words have new meaning in this room where the patients are weeks or days or even hours away from leaving this life.

The room is focused on me and I feel a little self-conscious.    “Would you like me to sing a carol?” I ask Edith.

“Oh yes!” she replies, her eyes gleaming with delight.

Summoning my best and loudest voice, channeling my meager music training, I sing a verse of Silent Night over the sound of the roaring, hissing breathing machine.

Edith mouths the words with me.  Her eyes shine.  A nurse changing a bed behind a curtain joins softly in the singing.

I launch into Hark the Herald Angels Sing.  The nurse comes out from behind the curtain and sings with me.

As I start O Come All Ye Faithful  two more nurses join in, singing from the doorway, and the visitors sitting with their dying grandmother sing too.  At that moment it seems that all the company of heaven is in that palliative care room.

It turns out that was Christmas for Edith.  No-one else managed to get through the ice clogged roads to visit her.  And there was no candlelit Christmas Eve service at her church either – the power was out.

Edith fell asleep in God’s arms a month later and passed into what awaits us on the other side of death.  I think she is singing with choirs of angels this Christmas. Tonight I will remember that precious night in the darkened hospital room as I sing Silent Night.

 

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The highlight of my busy day was a quiet reflection before an evening church meeting with singing by the a cappella group Pentatonix.  This song asks Mary if she knows that her son is the Messiah – the great I am, the Lord of creation.  Surely she does not know all of these things as she cradles the newborn Jesus in her arms?

It reminds me that I don’t know what wonders God will do in my life either.  I’m not expecting my children to walk on water, but God is at work in them – and in you – in wondrous ways.    Skip the ad and take a quiet minute to breathe and listen.

 

Lyrics:

Mary did you know that your baby boy will someday walk on water?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?

Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

This child that you’ve delivered, will soon deliver you.

 

Mary did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand?

Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?

And when your kiss your little baby, you have kissed the face of God.

Oh Mary did you know

The blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again.

The lame will leap, the dumb will speak, the praises of the lamb

 

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?

Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?

Did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect Lamb?

This sleeping child you’re holding is the great I am.

 

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I have been reflecting on this text by Teresa of Avila, a 16th century nun who was a mystic and a writer.

 

collage of hands and a cross

We are God’s hands in the world.

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)

 

The image is my collage expressing the idea that we are God’s hands in the world.

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Crucify him!

Sculpture of Jesus with the cross in the Chapel of the Flagellation, on the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.

Sculpture of Jesus with the cross in the Chapel of the Flagellation, on the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.

“Crucify him! Crucify him!” I shouted with the crowd.  People surged forward towards the Roman soldiers holding Jesus, crying “crucify him!” – whipping the crowd into a standing frenzy. We were the crowd in Jerusalem, and we wanted blood.

How easily my teenage self stepped into the part, swept up into the spectacle, something like a scene of out of Lord of the Flies!

It was many years ago, but the scene is fresh in my memory.  A Passion Play in an open air stone amplitheatre in Florida.  Surrounded by palm trees, a warm breeze, dark sky studded with stars, actors dressed in first century costumes and sandals. Jesus whipped and bleeding.

The actor were quietly intermingled with the audience, so that we all became the crowd. We shouted, chanted, we wept, we rejoiced. But what I remember most is shouting “crucify him!”

Then Jesus crucified in a flash of brilliant bright light suddenly extinguished, dropping us into black night with a clap of thunder.

Each time I read the passion I re-live that night. My gut remembers being horrified at what I was shouting, frightened at how easily I was swept along with the crowd demanding blood. I hope, I pray, that I would have the courage to do the right thing and stand up against the mob in real life.

But if there was danger and violence, if I was truly afraid, I think it is more likely that I would step away.  Maybe I would say a silent prayer and disappear into the shadows, just like most of the disciples.

And, in my apologetic silence, would I be whispering “crucify him” all over again?

Seeker

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Joseph and an angel

Joseph depicted in a stained glass window in Nazareth.

Here’s my Boxing Day homily…

In this day after Christmas, some of us are feeling that after-holiday let down that comes from spending too much and eating too much, drinking too much and socializing too much. Especially those who didn’t even make it here today!

But here we are, challenged to listen to a difficult gospel passage about angels and death, right on the heels of the miracle of Christmas.

Like the real world, harsh reality comes pressing in much too soon on the holy family.

In today’s gospel passage we’re in Bethlehem after the birth of Jesus. The magi – the wise men – have gone. There is a pause in the story – like our own pause today, after the busy-ness of Christmas.

Then, into this quiet time, the holy family’s life is turned upside down. First, an angel tells Joseph in a dream to take Jesus and Mary and flee to Egypt before Herod kills all the young children in the area.

Then, while they are in Egypt, an angel tells Joseph in a dream that Herod is dead and it is safe to return to Israel. And when the family arrives in the land of Israel, Joseph’s third dream sends them to live in the safety of the district of Galilee, in a village called Nazareth.

Each time Joseph listened and obeyed, just as he did the first time an angel visited to tell him Mary was to have a child of the Holy Spirit.

Let’s take a closer look at Joseph.

In the translation we use we read that Joseph was a ‘carpenter’. The Greek word is Tekton (Mat 13:15, John 6:3) – and it means builder, in the sense today of general contractor. It doesn’t differentiate between a builder with wood or stone. To this day the building material of choice in the Holy Land has been stone – from temples to simple one room houses.

So perhaps we could reconsider our image of Joseph as a simple carpenter. One might think of him as a stone mason, a skilled tradesperson, a builder.

So think of someone you know who is a builder or an engineer.. or a computer expert … perhaps yourself – someone practical and used to dealing with mechanical problems – how would they – or you – respond to the voice of God or an angel in their sleep?

I am guessing Joseph was not too happy – perhaps he argued with the angel, how inconvenient it was, perhaps they could go later, why couldn’t they go home? why me? not again!

Judean desert

Looking west towards Egypt in the Judean desert.


As he packed up the tools of his trade and the family possessions on their donkey and set out on foot under the hot sun, did he feel that he was being tested? Was he angry? discouraged? excited?

He was probably used to travelling. In a time when most people lived and died in the same village, a skilled builder would move from town to town to work.

So, back to Bethlehem and the beginning of our story.

Even the rumour of a new king would have enraged Herod, and he was ruthless – he executed his wife and three of his sons. But the sad truth is that the killing of all the babies around Bethlehem would have been too insignificant to merit a report among Herod’s atrocities.

No surprise that Joseph acted promptly on the angels command to flee to prosperous Egypt.

But in Egypt Joseph and his family would have been outsiders, devout Jews far away from the Temple. No surprise, then, that Joseph readily picked up his family at the angels command to return.

Now why the angel directed him to Nazareth is a story for another day, lets just say for today it was safer under the new ruler of Galilee, and Matthew tells us it was to fulfill the prophets.

So did the angel send Joseph from place to place so he could support his family in safety? to expose the young Jesus to different people and customs in preparation for his ministry? to fulfill the prophets? or to echo Moses’s journey from Egypt and back? I wonder if it was for all of these good reasons.

But what is important is that Joseph listened the voice of the angel – the voice of God – and obeyed.

What does it mean for us to listen and be obedient?

Scrooge

Scrooge encountering a spirit in Soulpepper's production of a Christmas Carol. (photo: Toronto Star)


Now, most of us will never hear an angel speak in our dreams. And if we hear a spirit we’d be likely to doubt our senses — like old Scrooge in a Christmas Carol, who suggests that Marley’s ghost may be

“an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.”

And discerning, differentiating the voice of God from false messages – and from indigestion – can be a life’s work.

But sometimes … sometimes we make a change in our life and it just seems right, and a weight is lifted off our shoulders. Sometimes we change jobs, give up a harmful practice, change the way we live – or where we live. And if the change is right, we can look back and see the hand of God, just as Matthew did.

How often do we have the choice to obey God, or not?

Think about that police officer – the one who identified the constable now charged with the assault of Adam Nobody during the G20 summit. In a police culture that closes ranks on those who snitch, his life may be changed forever by his action of conscience. But perhaps he listened to God and obeyed.

Or take the man who wrote in the Star last week “I hate my job but can’t afford to leave it. I know I’m becoming miserable at home – what little time I am there – and hate that I’m often short-tempered and tense with my wife and kids.”

This man doesn’t need the voice of an angel to tell him that his life is out of balance. Some hard listening for God’s message might help him decide what God is calling him to do to change this downward spiral. Perhaps he needs to listen to God and obey.

Again and again we reach crossroads in our lives where we are asked to stop, …listen to God and be obedient.

Such radical obedience to God can be frightening – we may be ‘out there’ doing something on faith that others just do not understand.

But Isaiah reminds us that we act within the “abundance of God’s steadfast love” . He reminds us that we don’t need a messenger or an angel, but that it is God’s presence – just his presence – that will save us.

And here, on the day after Christmas, we remember that Jesus is among us, incarnate in human form, Jesus a baby and then a child travelling with Joseph and Mary across the Holy Land, and through his resurrection present to us at every moment of our lives, if we just have the courage to open our hearts to his abundant love.

All that we are asked to do is trust God. That’s all.

And the first thing to do is listen – for the voices of angels, for the voice of God. In our lives, in our community, in our loved ones, in our heart.

Perhaps – just perhaps – there is an angel speaking to us.

And all we have to do is listen … and obey.

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