My Solemn Vow

Today is a special day.  No, it’s not only New Year’s Eve.  It’s also my wedding anniversary.

After these may years, my wife and I agree that, on hindsight, New Year’s Eve was not the best day on which to be married.  After all of these years in the ordained ministry, however, I am not sure that there is any particularly good day on which to have a wedding.  New Year’s Eve, though, is a night when many people have other plans and are distracted by many things.  We never can have a special anniversary dinner that night.  It’s tough to get a reservation and dinner often is so expensive.  People can be noisy, boisterous and, in some cases, overly friendly.  I’d love to think that they all are celebrating with us, but we’re not as important as the crystal ball on Times Square.  Wait—there’s another way to think about it—it’s very important to God.

After all, God has blessed my wife and me as we made our solemn vows.  We are not the only married people to have lived out these vows—to have and to hold, for better for worse, for richer for poorer.  Truly, every married couple does live out these vows in married life.  Maybe after the words, “This is my solemn vow” we need to add some words from the presidential inauguration:  “So help me God.”

Today, on this anniversary, I reflect on all that God has done with these solemn vows to make my wife and me stronger for the journey.  Like any couple, if this marriage were up to us alone, without God’s grace and strength, marriage could not work.  It’s a major battle for me and for any married person to live out the promise of marriage:  and the two shall become one.   But it’s hard for me as a human being to also become one with Christ.  Every day, every step is a surrender of self and an embrace of Chris.  Marriage is the best practice for that spiritual discipline.

On this anniversary, and at the end of this year, I am so ready to enter another year of promise.  And I am so glad that I can share that journey with the one whom I love with all that I am and all that I have.

By My Baby Tonight

On this eve of Christ’s birth, I am singing carols that are a little odd.

I am taking some of the words to my favorite soul music and imagining the angels singing backup.  So many of those songs use the word “baby.”  The singer or the songwriter sings to the love of their life, “my baby.”  A lot of Christmas hymns and carols came from popular music sung in taverns or by traveling minstrels.  So I’m thinking about a new carol like
“Be My Baby Tonight.”  The cradle really would be rocking with that rhythm, and the cave would be a popular club—perhaps The Manger Inn or The Cave.  There’s a lot of talk about a silent night.  When you read the Christmas story, however, it’s rocking with rejoicing.

How about the carol, “Love to Love You, Baby”?  Yeah, that would need a lot of rewriting, but, hey, it’s a song about deep, physical love—which is what the birth of Jesus is all about—God Incarnate       .

Here’s another song just aching to become a Christmas hymn:  “Baby, I Need Your Lovin.’” That’s what the shepherds might sing.  After all, they are the kinds of people who most of us never want to meet.  They’re the rough and tough types.  When it comes right down to it, though, each of us needs God’s lovin’—and we have it at all times and in all ways in our lives, if we want to accept what God offers us in Christ.  Even the next verse, “Got to have all your lovin’” –and the Good News, we have all God’s lovin’, in Christ.

These revised songs are like adult versions of children’s nursery songs that became carols—“Away in a Manger” for instance.

Christmas is all about the mystery of God’s love in the newborn Christ.  He shows us what “Baby Love” is all about.

Hey, baby—what hit songs are you singing in a new way tonight?

Doubting Thomas/Shouting Thomas

If you or I express concern or reservation about a decision or action, someone might tag us with a critical nickname.  They’ll say, “Oh, come on—don’t be a doubting Thomas!”

That phrase is just half the story of the great event in the life of the apostle Thomas.  Today is his day on the calendar of saints.  Interestingly, this day also is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere and the beginning of a cold and dark period on the calendar.  A coincidence?

Doubting Thomas is the first half of the event in John’s gospel (20:26-29).  The Risen Christ appears to the disciples on the day of the resurrection.  Thomas was not there.  Like any of us, he was running errands and dealing with the business of life.  The Risen Christ is not present when Thomas returns.  The disciples are overwhelmed with excitement.  Jesus is alive!  Thomas, a true left-brained man, said, “Show me!”  The disciples can’t do that, but try even harder to convince him to take them at their word.  Thomas wants proof.

There is the Doubting Thomas.  But the story does not end there.

A week passes, and the Risen Christ appears again.  He invites Thomas to test the truth of the resurrection on tangible terms.  At that moment, Thomas does not do the testing.  He does not demand other evidence.  He does not require other witnesses.  He simply cries out in wonder, “My Lord and my God!”

At that moment, he is changed forever.  No longer is he the Doubting Thomas.  He now is the Shouting Thomas.  He’s that kind of person because he has faced his doubt—and the encounter with Christ has erased all doubt.

Only God in Christ can cause that to happen, by the grace of the Holy Spirit.  For my legacy, I’d rather be known as a Shouting Thomas.

How about you?

Where’s Emmanuel?

This season of Advent brings anticipation with it.  For kids, however, there’s a lot of impatience.  It’s one thing to wait for Santa (and to be good for so long).  One year, when the organist began the hymn, “O come, o come, Emmanuel,” after the third verse, one little one cried out, “When is Emmanuel coming?! This hymn is sooooooo long!”

That question is profound, actually.  We still ask in our hearts and minds when God will be with us when nights get long and times get hard.  We have the answer, of course, but that answer must not only be a statement of faith.  It must be a statement of our faith.

The hymn can be found in the Episcopal Church’s Hymnal 1982 as #56.  Indeed, it is long—eight verses.  Since the first and last verses repeat, however, there actually are seven.

The hymn began as a plainsong chant in monastic communities in the Middle Ages.  All hymns are, in one form or another, a prayer.  That is especially true of hymns like this one.  As marked in the hymnal, there is a verse for each day from December 17^th through December 23^rd.  In some chapels, one verse was sung for each of those days.  In others, a verse was added each day, and the hymn became longer.  Each verse focuses on a different aspect of this Promised One of God:  Dayspring from on high, Desire of nations, key of David, to cite three of them.

Each verse on each day is a wonderful focus for prayer.  As I seek the presence of God in Christ in so many diverse forms, I can look for the presence of Christ in ways that I might not expect.  I also can look at the ways in which I might recognize God in my midst and confess my limited understanding.

In this season, children can teach me new ways to expect Emmanuel.  Another child put a new verse into the hymn.  He wrote, “O come, o come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel; as Santa Claus is checking his list, I really hope I will not be missed.”

Hmmm.  Now there’s an interesting mix.  And in some ways, I still believe in Santa, too.  And I still am waiting for him, too.

Spiritual Horsepower

Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is known to the super-duper Episcopalian as “Stirrup Sunday.”  Today’s prayer begins, “Stir up your strength, O Lord, and come to help us.”

            Many years ago, as a college student, I remember when to churchophiles were in coffee hour and making much mirth as they talked about the liturgical humor of Stirrup Sunday.  “And that means that we all are cowboys!” one said to the other in a flurry of giggles.  “Or cowgirls!” exclaimed the other in howls of laughter.

            Being rather left-brained, I didn’t join in that merriment.  Instead, my mind went to the stables where I had been as a boy, learning about and loving horses.  In my mind I climbed once again into the stirrups of a Mr. Ed sort of horse.  I imagined what it would be like to ride like the wind, as so many men did in those great Westerns of film and television.  I learned something about horsepower in nature before I felt it in the gas pedal.

            Later, I learned about “spiritual horsepower.”  Listen to the remainder of the prayer:  “And because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us.”  Horses have a wonderful sense of how to use their power.  The rider may urge on the horse, but when she senses danger, or sees the trail ahead to be dangerous, she will stop.  I mean, she will stop and go no further, no matter what the prodding or the stirring in the stirrups.  For then the stirrups are human force and will.

            When we are in divine stirrups—when God is stirring up grace and mercy—then spiritual horsepower comes into a life. Human shortfalls and shortcomings hinder us from completing our ride, our journey.  The word “sorely” is a magnificent Old English term that, in our time, means “stubbornly.”  And those shortcomings and shortfalls can be very stubborn indeed.

            One must ride through gentle terrain and hard paths to learn about spiritual horsepower, and to be able to use godly stirrups to keep balance and focus for whatever is ahead.

            Stirrup Sunday is all about spiritual horsepower.  And that just makes horse sense to me.

Conscience Moment

In these hours after the massacre of children and educators at Sandy Hook Elementary School, we’ve been doing a lot of thinking as a nation.  A lot of that thinking is shallow.  We’ve been doing a lot of evaluation of the situation.  Much of that evaluation is superficial.

            Three quick reactions are in front of us in media coverage.  First, there is shock and grief.  This experience has been traumatic for so many, especially because children have been innocent victims.  Then, defensiveness surfaces to ward off blame.  Mental health professionals are trying to explain how the shooter could have done what he did (and what his mother did and didn’t do).  Guns and their availability and use are in the crosshairs once again.  Safety and security concerns are in the forefront, the positive side of fear.  And we’re focused on problem-solving.  We Americans are very good at pragmatic steps in problem-solving.

            We cannot handle what our conscience is saying.  We cannot consider a greater question.  In our increasingly secular time, we cannot accept that God, through the Holy Spirit, is speaking to our minds and hearts as a people.  God is calling us all to re-evaluate some cherished assumptions about American life.

            Some years ago, I taught a class in philosophy.  My students were from the local community college.  Such a class was a part of many basic associate degree programs.  My students were the “salt of the earth.”  In our nine weeks, we tried tackling the Big Questions, and most students tried hard to engage with global thought through the centuries.  When we came to “practical philosophies—rights and responsibilities”—real struggle came to the forefront.  Sure, the students were able to define rights.  They had a much harder time dealing with responsibilities in a democracy.  Those standards have a base in moral law and an understanding that there is something (and Someone) greater than ourselves from which we draw our understanding.  Human beings all have a conscience.  We often do not accept that there is a moral law greater than ourselves, or our own benefit and survival.

            So, here are two quick thoughts.  Whenever we have a debate on guns and weapons, there is very little conscience involved.  We easily say, “I have a right to bear arms.”  The Second Amendment to the American Constitution declares so in a limited form.  What is the responsibility for bearing arms?  That discussion usually is self-centered.  It’s all about me, not about the greater god of this nation.  That’s where conscience needs to come into the conversation.

            The second area is in mental health.  Mental health advocates long ago insisted that those who suffer from mental illness had the right to live freely in a community.  But what about the responsibility of the larger community to care for such persons?  What support can the community give to the family?  I remember in the late 1960s when most of the state-run psychiatric institutions were shut down, the advocates said that it was important to “de-institutionalize” the persons.  The state assembly members said, “What a great way to save money and direct it to other needs!”  The consequence?  People were settled in residences and often were unsupervised.  Then these were closed.  In pastoral work through the years, I have found it nearly impossible to help families and individuals find extended treatment.  Once again, people emphasized “rights” without taking responsibility for those who are less able.

            And now we have schoolchildren murdered by a mentally ill young man with free access to weapons.  All the rhetoric is about rights.   What about moral conscience or moral compass?

Holy Innocents

When any and all of us awoke this morning, none could have imagined the horrible news that twenty small children and six of their guardians and teachers in their school would lose their lives at the hands of a mentally deranged young man.  Yet I am reminded that none of us who prepare for the day know what it will bring.  In our Book of Common Prayer, we do have a Collect that reminds us of God’s constant presence in the changes and chances of this life.

            The Prayer Book also reminds us that there is a similar event shortly after the birth of Jesus.  King Herod, one with a classic case of paranoia, heard from the sages of the East that a newborn King now was in Bethlehem, attested by a star in heaven which guided them to that place and person.

            As the sages left, Herod determined that all male children under two years of age were to be slaughtered, just to be sure that there would be no challenge to his power.  Soldiers went to Bethlehem and carried out the orders. 

            In a dream, God directed Joseph to flee from this insane wrath.  Joseph obeyed this warning.  God had a specific purpose and plan for this child.

            Yet many grieving parents remained in Bethlehem, having no idea why Herod ordered that their child should be murdered.  For some, the boy was the firstborn—the one to carry the name of the family and to inherit the privileges and responsibilities of the family.

            The parents cried out: Why?  And so do those in Newtown, Connecticut this day.  So do many of us in this nation.  We have asked this question so many other times in national life.  Why did the events occur on September 11^th?  Why was Dr. King assassinated?  Why was President Kennedy assassinated?  The list of questions is endless.  Only in the Greater Life will we know why—and then, it will not really matter, as we are in the presence of God, the source and end of all Wisdom.  Death will be swallowed up in victory.

            Yet we walk this course on earth and bear the burden of this day, and the sadness over the loss of innocent lives in Newtown.  In our calendar, on December 28^th, we observe the Day of Holy Innocents. The Church’s Collect of the Day is how I pray this day: 

We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod.  Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.