New Years Eve

It's nearly midnight. We mark time at midnight, acknowledging the passing of another year. A milestone. Time passes. We stop once in a while to notice.

Meanwhile, the days are once again getting longer as the earth travels around the sun. Vacation ends for the school kids, and they begin another grading period. Time passes, slowly or quickly, depending on your age and perception. 'Big wheels keep on turnin'..."

Koheleth, in Ecclesiastes, remarks rather jadedly, 'to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven,' and observes 'it's all chasing after wind.' Vanity. Foolishness. Meaningless. After all, you're born, you die, and what good is it? Perhaps, I've often thought, Ecclesiastes is there for those in the slump of a midlife crisis!

"Time passes. Will you?" declared a sign on my teacher's wall in high school. Yes, I will too. I'm not exempt from the cycles, the vanity, the season to be born, the season to die. Jesus has taught me, though, that there is more than this enslavement to time. His coming means, in part, that the cycle is far from meaningless, indeed, it is hallowed, sacred, deeply a part of a larger thing which remains outside our ken. In Jesus, God who made time became subject to its limits, and somehow filled it full of himself.

I'm part of it, the earth and its marking of time. So I'll make a toast and kiss my husband when the clock strikes twelve. I'll laugh at my exhaustedly silly children, and wonder what the year will hold. But I will also thank God that when the time He created has served its purpose, it too will be swallowed up in the glory of an everlasting life.

Where ox and ass are feeding

Not sure whether to own up to this or not, but we had an e-discussion amongst the church staff about the words 'ox and ass' in the carol What Child Is This. We wondered if we should change them, given that 'ass' doesn't communicate 'donkey' to anyone under the age of 10. To most younger children, 'ass' is a 'bad word,' one they get in trouble for saying in school, no matter how vehemently they insist they meant 'donkey'.

As a parent of a 6-year-old, I was all for changing it: "ox and lamb" was the perfectly good variation proposed by our director of music. After a few emails though, we finally decided, on this carol at least, to use the words as they are in our denominational hymnal. We changed other words in other songs during the services, but "ass" remained.

I'm glad. As I sung it, I got to thinking about oxen: big, hard to steer, able to throw their weight around. And asses - stubborn, not-so-bright, sturdy but not beautiful. I'm glad the oxen and asses were there with Christ when he was born. Maybe William Dix, who wrote the words back in 1865, knew exactly what he meant. I figure he was probably acquainted with both kinds of ox and ass (the animals AND the people), and might very well have intended both meanings.

If there were oxen and asses there with Jesus (we don't know it for sure, but it's not a big leap to think so), there might be room for me too. Even in my oxish and ass-like moments.

My family loves to watch 'Survivorman' and 'Man vs. Wild' on Discovery. Each Friday evening, we get pizza and gather around to watch what these two guys do as they survive in various parts of the globe. I've learned some interesting things. 1. If you're lost, get shelter, water, fire and food - in various orders depending on where you are surviving. 2. Go slow. 3. Keep working toward survival, because work itself gives you hope. I also learned to cook grasshoppers before you eat them, because they can carry tapeworms, and that brightly-colored insects will usually make you sick.

The big lesson, though, was one my mom taught me and the survivalists only confirmed: after you cut the head off (a chicken, an insect, a snake...) the rest of the body will continue to move around for awhile.

I don't want the Church to succumb to that fate. We can move for a long time without connection to Christ, our head. But our movements are the movements of a dying creature, futile and leading nowhere. Our primary goal as the Church is to be connected to Christ through prayer, worship, holy communion, Scripture study and discussion, fasting, giving alms... These are the tasks we focus on as we live on earth. Everything else flows from them. We can't change ourselves - to center our lives on changing ourselves or others leads only to futility and frustration.

When we stay connected to Christ, our head, when we abide in the true Vine, then blessings flow, life flows through us into the world. We are transformed in the process, and so is everyone and everything we touch.

I'm glad I know how to boil water in a plastic bottle, how to build a fire, how to make a simple shelter in this good creation of God's. I'm more convicted to turn off the TV, and this computer, and spend some time with the Source of Life.

Magnificat mullings

Do you think Mary really meant it when she said God would send the rich away empty?
Do you think that would make her happy?
Do the rich need to be sent away empty? Is it good for them?
Or is the Magnificat just the song of a poor girl, shaped by poverty to think that all the problems of their world would be righted if only the rich would get their comeuppance?

Do you think she really hoped that princes would be toppled from their thrones? Did she have any idea of the political upheaval that would cause?

Would the world be better if the poor were suddenly to become rich, or the powerless would suddenly have power?

I don't think so. It would just be the same thing all over again. Power corrupts, and all that.

Maybe Mary's vision is bigger than she is. Maybe the Kingdom is when God comes near to everyone, regardless of their station. Maybe being in God's presence shows the haves what they have not, and the have nots what they have. Maybe having been sent away empty would cause the rich to turn to God. Maybe having their bellies filled will enable the hungry to know God.

I wonder. I wonder what she saw when she sang, and what she hoped for. I wonder how she hoped we would live, we who still call her blessed, generations later.

What I want for Christmas

Everyone asks me what I want for Christmas. After some thought, I've determined that I want less stuff, but more time. I want less waste, and more beauty. I want less surface, and more depth. I want joy for those I love, and the privilege of being in their lives. I want more Jesus, and less me.

None of this can be wrapped and put under a tree. All of it will require a certain amount of letting go.

What do you want for Christmas?

rain in the desert

Every time we go to Arizona it rains. No kidding. We are considering a proposal to the Arizona government - they pay our airfare, and we will come out anytime they need relief from drought.

Of course, it might not be us. The rain in Arizona might happen when we are there because we usually go in their winter (such as it is there).

In Arizona, they bless the rain. Cloudy days are a rare treat to be savored. They build fires, snuggle up on the couch with a book and a blanket, and even forego golf (while all the tourists are out in their tank tops and shorts). Or, like one valet we met, they dance in the rain, enjoying every drop of what they know will disappear all too soon.

I'm pretty sure the rain wasn't our fault (or our gift, for that matter). Hopefully I will remember not to take the snow, or the many other inconviences of winter, so personally. Life happens. I hope I can snuggle or read or dance. I hope you can, too.