Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Advent Conspiracy


by Ian Doescher

When I was a kid, Christmas meant presents, and now as a parent I’m hoping that association isn’t being made for my own children. A couple of years ago, Jennifer and I learned about The Advent Conspiracy. If you haven’t heard of it, The Advent Conspiracy is a movement to encourage people to give money to relief and aid organizations in lieu of giving gifts. (The Advent Conspiracy itself doesn’t ask for or accept donations.) In other words, make a donation in someone’s honor rather than giving them that plastic Christmas tree they don’t want or need. The Advent Conspiracy’s web site (www.adventconspiracy.org) has excellent videos explaining what the project is all about. One of these says, “Everyone wants Christmas to be meaningful, but instead it turns into shop, shop, shop—credit cards, traffic jams, to-do lists, useless gifts. Then off to church. Sometimes we’re just glad to survive it. Did you know Americans spend $450 billion on Christmas every year? So we ask—how did Jesus celebrate? Jesus gave himself.” The video goes on to talk about the worldwide problem of lack of clean water, saying, “The estimated cost to make clean water available to everyone is $10 billion. $10 billion to solve world water, $450 billion spent on Christmas. Do you see what could happen?"

This year, we (meaning both my family and the St. Luke's church family) are trying to take more seriously than ever the goals and ideas of The Advent Conspiracy. Look for announcements soon about special Advent Conspiracy groups at St. Luke's. I also invite you to visit the web site and watch the videos for yourself, and think about your own giving this Christmas season. And may we all have a blessed Advent and Christmas season.


Sunday, November 22, 2009

Advent



by Julia Graves

In my household a Nativity set remains on display throughout the year. It provides a daily reminder of the Holy family and the humble beginnings of Jesus Christ. It is made out of Olive wood and was imported from Bethlehem. Every time I dust it and oil the fine wood I contemplate on the life journey of Jesus.

We have another Nativity set that is taken out only during the Advent season. It is much larger and each piece is separate. The first Sunday of Advent the Crèche is located in a prominent place in the main living area of the house where everyone can see it. The inside is filled with fresh straw. The only things that reside in this Crèche are the animals who normally reside there. The rest of the Nativity set is separated and located in different rooms of the house. The wise men, Shepherd, Mary and Joseph, each make there separate journey to the Crèche.

This journey takes months to complete. The Crèche has a light that is turned on after the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day. This represents the star the Wise men and the Shepherd followed. The groups are moved to different rooms of the house. This enables each child to have a visit from each group and to assist them on their journey toward the Crèche.

Advent is a time of preparation and anticipation. It is also a time revisit past traditions and create new ones. Enjoy the journey.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Anticipation


by Kyle Wiseley

I suppose in some ways this seems like a strange topic for this time of year, but for me the fall has always initiated a feeling of anticipation. A new school year is under way. The holidays are ahead, promising opportunities to spend time with family and friends who one doesn’t see often. In our church life a new program year is under way. Soon Advent will begin with a new cycle of Sunday lessons and the anticipation of Christmas. As the old year winds down we are offered renewed chances to do better and repair past mistakes and consider new responsibilities.


This year, we Episcopalians have are also anticipating the choice of a new Bishop for our Diocese. To many of us that may not seem very important, yet to some, particularly those in leadership roles and ministries, it will have a significant impact.


At the heart of anticipation is hope. In fact, anticipation without hope is dread. Where does one find hope, especially in a contemporary world where life moves so swiftly and our cultural and political environment can seem overwhelmingly unmanageable? Just as anger is always based in fear, so hope has its foundation in trust. Trust is tricky. It often depends so much on our having had good experiences -- of life turning out the way we wanted. But when things don’t go our way, or more importantly yet, when really painful things happen, our trust in the goodness of life is severely shaken.


It has been my experience that when those dark times appear, I need to go inward and that can be a scary journey. I find that it helps if I have close friends upon whom I can rely to stand by me in those intimate times when I might otherwise isolate in self-pity and despair. The success of my emerging from my problems while maintaining a sense of optimism, depends on who I am at my very core. And if I can find that core and give up myself as I would define myself, there awaits Something that sustains and nurtures me even when all else is sorrow and sadness.


So even in the worst of times I find that I can look forward in anticipation rather than dread, and know that the One who has promised to be with us always will keep his promise and see me through. One of my favorite scripture passages is the final lines of the Psalm 100: “For the Lord is good, his mercy is everlasting, and his faithfulness endures from age to age.” I can think of nothing for which I could be more thankful during this season.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Young and Old

by Kathy Douglass


I work in the city, and on any given day, there’s plenty to see on a sneak-out-of-the-building-for-a-few-minutes-break:


eggplant and peppers at the Farmer’s Market

outdoor chess matches at Pioneer Square

strong young men hauling their food carts to their corner

tiny lights adding a twinkle to the grand old trees on 5th Avenue

jewelry vendors displaying their hand-crafted wares on the sidewalk

new sculptures unveiled along the transit mall

the harried, the oblivious, the wandering

A sight I especially enjoy is “kids on a rope”. A few times a day, a nearby daycare center gathers up the kiddos and ropes them together for the day’s fresh-air stroll. It makes me smile every time. Toddlers holding on to their assigned knot in the fat red rope, enjoying their own space, but sharing the walk.

It’s their own little bit of journey. The rope reminds them to hold on tight, because it is safer out there when you are holding on. The rope reminds them that they are not alone. Just a bit of rope in front of them and behind, there’s a friendly face, a buddy who is holding on too. And leading them along is someone who is older and taller and wiser. Someone who is familiar with the path because they’ve been following it a long time.

I am observing the blessing it is that St. Luke’s is an intergenerational community. Its part of what draws me: the welcome and tenderness that’s generously offered to the little ones, the silver-haired ones, and the somewhere-in-between ones.

My own spiritual roots were nurtured in churches where the older and the younger met together to worship, to pray, to work, to eat, to cry, to celebrate, to walk. I still remember so many of them: Mr. Throckmorton, the McBees. Mrs. Plant and Selma. Mr. Moothart and Alma Beckley. Mrs. Crawford and Mrs. Fast. I remember a gal named Sandy. When I was about 7 years old and she was, oh, maybe 15, she took a special interest in me. I got to go exploring with her at the store where her father was a grocer, I got to play the piano at her house. A few times she took me out for ice cream for no particular reason. I felt like the only 7 year old girl in the world. I could hardly believe that someone like her was paying any attention to someone like me.

My roots thrived in that deep, rich soil of Christ-followers who were older and taller and wiser. I was starting out on my journey, and they were familiar with the path because they’d been following it a long time. I needed their wisdom, their perspective. I needed to be present to their compassion and grace, their faith. The kind of faith that comes from what is suffered and borne, from what is hoped for and not yet seen. I needed to be present to the gentleness that comes with years of living as forgiven, as beloved.

When Rev. Jennifer included me a few months ago in an email message meant for young adults, I was glad she didn’t ask to see my ID. Just a few winters from now, I expect to find an AARP membership packet in my mailbox. But I do my best to hang onto some child-like traits, or at least dust them off when I’ve let them sit for too long because I am busy being oh, so very serious. The little ones remind me of these things: to laugh with your whole belly, to cry with all your tears. To ask questions without checking to see how it sounds before I speak. To be present because there’s just nowhere else to be. Last year I was wandering around the children’s section of a used bookstore in Seattle and came across a poster spoofing Elizabeth Gilbert’s best-seller, “Eat, Pray, Love”. The brightly-colored poster showed the contented faces of children surrounding these words: “Snack, Play, Nap.” Now that’s some child-like behavior I can get behind. I need the little ones in my community. I need their sense of wonder, their openness, their spirit.

Rev. Jennifer shared at the Quiet Day a few weeks back that while our paths may diverge, our destination is the same. I don’t know what happened to Sandy. Our paths diverged a long time ago. But I believe that the connection we had all those years ago will be found intact one day, when the destination we share is reached.

When we value who we are, our stories, and what we have to offer, the young can teach the old, the old can teach the young.

A friend asked me a few weeks ago: “Kath, are we growing old together?” I was delighted to say, “Yes, yes we are.” We’re kids on the rope, holding on tight, because it’s safer out there when we’re holding on. We’re seeing just ahead of us, and just behind, the compassionate, spirited faces of companions, both young and old, who are sharing the walk with us. And we’re being led by Someone who knows the way.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Sacrament and Godly Play



by Judy Bevilacqua

Recently I had a long conversation with a friend about the meaning of the word “sacrament” and how this word gets fleshed out in the 21st century. It was a little intimidating to be asked this question, as I am still new to the liturgical church and its’ sacramental emphases and also because my friend is quite educated and philosophically astute! I had to ask myself, “How is it that I experience the sacraments?” I found out that I am not very theological about the subject. I am rather like the kid whose parents take him to OMSI hoping to excite a thirst for all things scientific, but their child would rather sit in the simulated rocket and just push the buttons and dream of space travel! (Yes, my Myers-Briggs is INFP.)

That’s why I like it when Rev. Jennifer conducts the Eucharist at Family Service. The kids are invited right up to the sacred table and taught about family hospitality - they are not bowled over with a sermon on transubstantiation or consubstantiation. To a child what the Host is or if it’s transformed when consumed is just not on their radar. You just eat the bread! And see what happens! Like Psalm 34 exclaims: “Oh taste and see that the Lord is good!” It’s natural.

And I guess it is true for me, that the sacraments are best when experienced naturally. It’s a way we learn about God by the “doing of the thing.” It’s caught…. not taught. It captures our imagination. It is mystery and metaphor.

Emily Dickinson had a bit of a falling out with the church, (not God). She felt excluded. Her writing shows how she came closest to experiencing God when she was connected to the natural world. Her experiences of grace were discovered in nature:

Oh Sacrament of summer days,

Oh Last Communion in the Haze --

Permit a child to join.

Thy sacred emblems to partake --

Thy consecrated bread to take

And thine immortal wine!

In her little tome, The Quotidian Mysteries: Laundry, Liturgy and "Women's Work," Kathleen Norris finds her sacraments in the mundane: dishes, laundry and ironing. Those daily, mindless and sanctifying repetitions of duty became her rosary beads of beatitude, her bells to mark the hours.

Make no mistake, I find the sacraments serious and holy, not trivial or shallow. But at my spiritual best I am a child. As a parent, I learned that “child’s play” is actually the work of learning. It’s serious business to the child! So too are my attempts to enter this sacramental life. When my loving Father sees my desire to “play house with God’s dishes,” He smiles. Because this is how I learn! It’s the place where our creative imaginations and His mystery come together. One day after baking Eucharist bread, I wrote a nursery rhyme:

Bread for body and blood for wine

are served on little plates of thine.

All partake. All are fed.

All are nourished with wonder bread!

Perhaps it really is that simple. When I read the gospels, The Last Supper is not a complicated scene. It’s a natural place, a dinner table. We are all at that table. In sacramental living, mystery and metaphor get to trump the playground bullies of logic and skepticism. And faith finds her voice and sings from the altar. And sacrament may be, after all, just the adult version of “Godly Play!” It’s great to be His children, His family, circling His table. So when Rev. Jennifer extends the bread to the children and says: “this is Jesus,” - they just eat it and believe! Me too.