Christmas 1.1

And the darkness does not overcome the light.

HT to RevGals for image here.

Advent 4.7 - How can this be?

Surprise!

Surprise?

Tonight I'm leading Christmas in a Minor Key, our Blue Christmas service at my home church. It is one of the many surprising twists in my understanding and practice of ministry in the past two years. This wonderful reflection is exactly what I need to get from the beginning to the end of this day. Maybe it will be meaningful to you as well.





HT to Ignatian Spirituality.

Advent 3.5 - Tanner's Annunciation

It would not be Advent without this painting, would it?

I tried to "borrow" a friend's close-up, but it refused to permit itself to be lifted. Perhaps you can see it here.

Two years ago, I had this to say:

This might be my favorite painting in the world. All over the internet this time of year, it remains fresh to me. In the past I've liked it because, frankly, Mary looks a lot like I did as a very young woman, and her puzzled expression confirms the likeness.

This year, I've noticed other things. The messy bed. The worn surroundings.

The uncompromising light.

Is that what we pray for, when we are so bruised and fragile that the flames of the advent candles threaten to engulf us in sorrow?

A birth that can lead only to Good Friday, because it is only there that we can be sure that God knows us?

Uncompromising, indeed.

And a year ago, this:

Last year it was that uncompromising pillar of light that drew me in.

This year, it's the rumpled and perplexed young woman. I'm not young anymore, but I am most certainly rumpled and perplexed.

And this year?

As evidence of our profound capacity to project ourselves into what we observe, when I looked at this painting online yesterday I no longer saw messiness or perplexity or the worn surroundings. My eye was drawn straight to her face (which was why I was excited about my friend's enlargement of that detail). I saw, in that youthful expression, a directness and calm as she looked into the face of her future that could only reflect the peace of acceptance of all that it would bring.

I'm not there yet but, just as I always try to "preach ahead" of myself, so now I try to "live ahead" of myself.

Perhaps if you stare long enough into a light that uncompromising, some of it rubs off on you.

Advent 3.4 - Magnificat

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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.”

Luke 1:46-55

Last week our pastor reminded us that this is "one of the most politically subversive and dangerous songs in the Scriptures." If your own life has taken you far from department store Christmases, it's good to be reminded that Advent portends something 0f extravagant wildness.

I am at a loss as to why none of the art selected for the incredible musical piece below , sung by the St. Paul's Cathedral Choir, reflects the Magnificat's setting in the Gospel of Luke, in which Mary's words burst forth as she visits her cousin Elizabeth. A great deal of the power of the words comes from their being spoken in the unexpected context of the conversation between these two women, Elizabeth pregnant with John the Baptist and Mary with Jesus. So at the top of this post I've added an image of the Visitation Window from the church where I did my field education last year.

Advent 1.1 - Walking in the Light

"O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!"

~ Isaiah 2:5

If Advent is a season of darkness ~ of turmoil, of confusion, of sadness ~ it's difficult to hear it begin with these words. When burrowing under the covers and hiding out until the spring equinox seems like a plan, everything about this exhortation seems counterintuitive:

Community (House) ~ We are called to be together, not to isolate ourselves.

History and Inheritance (Jacob) ~ We are called to remember who we are, not to wish that we weren't.

Invitation (Come) ~ We are sought after, despite our feelings to the contrary.

Imperative (Let us) ~ We are called together to gather, do, respond, look forward, and not to curl up into a ball in the darkness.

Move (Walk) ~ We are called to put on foot in front of the other, not to remain rooted in sadness or fear.

Life (The light of the Lord) ~ We are invited into God's re-creating presence, into what God has been doing since the first day.

The Lord said, Let there be light.

Harris Gulko Painting

Is one part more difficult than the others? Does it all seem quite impossible? Some years, yes.

Perhaps that's why the first day of Advent begins with these words, so that we can begin to practice the impossible in preparation for the seeming impossibility of what we are waiting for.

Time for My Favorite Painting

Henry Ossawa Tanner's Annunciation

Last year it was that uncompromising pillar of light that drew me in.

This year, it's the rumpled and perplexed young woman. I'm not young anymore, but I am most certainly rumpled and perplexed.

Prayer as Expectant Attention

Giotto's Nativity Fresco in Padua, 1305-06

Praying with the Nativity scriptures can help us with a profound support for our everyday lives. The gospels paint us beautiful portraits of how Our God comes to us in the midst of great poverty. The age of Elizabeth, Gabriel's annuniciation to Mary, no room in the inn, enemies out to get the newborn, all surround the central mystery - our God is faithful.

Our God's fidelity is not only not limited by great poverty, it is most apt in places of great poverty. The way the nativity happened then can tell us a great deal about the "style" of our God. And, it can open our eyes and our expectation to the places of great poverty in our lives now. Whenever I ask, "How can this be a place of promise?" or "How can I expect God to be present in this mess?" I am being invited to experience the mystery of the Incarnation in my life.

Eventually, I begin to look for and to really anticipate special intimacy with Jesus in the difficult, challenging, painful, empty, power-less situations of my life. If I desire to find intimacy with God in all things, I'll pay special attention to the povery places of my life.

(This is from the Creighton Advent Website. I hope I am providing credit as desired and appropriate, so that the Nebraskan Jesuits do not feel compelled to come down to Key West and bust me.)

Tanner's Annunciation

Tanner's Annunciation

This might be my favorite painting in the world. All over the internet this time of year, it remains fresh to me. In the past I've liked it because, frankly, Mary looks a lot like I did as a very young woman, and her puzzled expression confirms the likeness.

This year, I've noticed other things. The messy bed. The worn surroundings.

The uncompromising light.

Is that what we pray for, when we are so bruised and fragile that the flames of the advent candles threaten to engulf us in sorrow?

A birth that can lead only to Good Friday, because it is only there that we can be sure that God knows us?

Uncompromising, indeed.

As Advent Calls Us

15th century Russian Icon (Here)

This is the loveliest and most compelling Advent piece I've encountered in a long time, maybe ever.

Palestrina

Dome - Basilica Santa Maria Maggiore

In spite of myself, I am finding small new gifts this season. Steering clear of the usual traditions which as the source of much joy in the past have become intolerable reminders of what we have lost, I bump into other things.

One of the benefits of my immersion into Ignatian spirituality has been the discovery of the music of Palestrina. I didn't know why it kept popping up in various Jesuit contexts, but I finally did a quick search today and learned that his life spanned much of the 16th century (Ignatius lived during the first half of that century) and that he was a major figure in the development of Catholic church music. During the 1560s he held an appointment at Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the five major basilicas of Rome; during the following decade, he lost his brother, two sons, and wife to the plague.

When we visited Rome in 2000, we stayed in the Maria Maggiore neighborhood and spent our evenings eating gelato in the piazza outside the church. These days, my shaky and tentative journey back to life includes connections to the prayer and music of the 16th century. I don't know why I'm so surprised.

From Palestrina's Missa Brevis:

Here.

Advent List, Week One, Year One

1. extravaganza holiday lighting house yard trees neighborhood friends who do not believe in God

2. eggnog I used to love eggnog

3. Pier I sparkly wrapping paper ornaments dishes

4. packed church trumpet accompaniment O Come O Come Emmanuel

5. Key West guidebook shall we go to a galaxy far far away

6. Tanner Annunciation I see things in it I have never seen before

7. nativity set all those Italian pieces purchased to charm small children stored in the basement can I bear to unpack it

8. doctor's office magazines there are more heart attacks on December 25 than on any other day

9. rain slush sleet snow clouds gray

10. the people who walked in darkness