Tears
Not “From a Distance”
The priest at Christmas Eve mass struck a chord with me. He began by reflecting on the first men on the moon — seeing the earth “as it really is” from a distance. He spoke about them looking back at earth and seeing it as a distant, beautiful blue and green globe. He progressed to Bette Midler’s “From a Distance” with God watching us from a distance. The good in this view is that we can see that we are all so very alike — all so very human. But, he and I agree – Christmas proclaims a very different reality. God is with us. God is not watching from a distance.
God may very well be able to step back and get some distance. We humans all need to do that at times… get some distance. But, the reality is that God is with us. God is in the midst of the messiness of our lives. God is present in birth and death and every experience in between. God is present in the joy of a new child, the frustration of a father who is struggling to make a decent life for that child and in an inn keeper who is out of resources and doesn’t have room. God is so very present that he took on our flesh, walked in our bones, felt all of our emotions, loved up close.
Christmas reminds me of this. If God loves me enough to take on my form of existence and walk with me, then I am called to do the same with others — and not stay at a distance. That’s not really what I think of as easy — I do separate myself. I am unwilling to share all too often even with those I am physically close to.
Little Child — help me to be willing to live not at a distance from You or our brothers and sisters.
Oh – and Merry Christmas!
Christmas Cooking Day
The house is filled with smell of my cornbread dressing and my husbands pork dressing. It’s cooking day. We always have to have both the Southern and the French Canadian dressings. Is that a battle or a melding of cultures?
Through the years we’ve settled on certain things that have become our family traditions. Christmas Mass. Family gatherings. And, we must have both cornbread and pork dressings. If I have leftover turkey (a problem this year since we won’t be doing Christmas in our house) the leftovers from the pork dressing and turkey must be turned into pie. We’ve been through “traditional” roasted turkey, smoked turkey and deep-fried turkey – so that one is open for discussion even after 33 years… but it’s turkey – not pork roast, or beef roast. It may include duck — but only as an adjunct to turkey. I’ll miss having leftover turkey of my own. Something is missing.
As I think of Christmas, it becomes clear that Christmas is a joining of many things. The joining of God with humanity in the form of the Christ child. The joining of the Deep South with New England. And this year, with a new daughter in law, the joining of more families. And any piece that goes missing is just that: a small hole in the fabric of the season. Even if it’s just the missing leftover turkey.
Mystery
As a church music minister/director, I suppose I’m going to have to deal with this new translation of the Roman Missal (for English) at some point. I’ve thus far kept my head in the sand, ostrich style — and hoped that the day of reckoning won’t happen or at least wait a good long time. But, today, I read up a bit on this.
Yuck!
OK — I see that some folks want to make mass and the Catholic religion more mysterious, more awesome, more magical. One thing that this makes me suspect is that these folks are hungry to experience the powerful, wonderful, awesome presence of God. Amen! But, it also seems to me, that while large, beautiful, magical churches and liturgy and evoke a sense of the power of God’s presence, it is even more powerful, awesome and enduring to experience the presence of God in my own heart and mind. In prayer — in quiet, open, honest prayer. Maybe this prayer is communal, but maybe it is that which is practiced individually on a regular basis. As when Elijah finally experienced God in the gentle, quiet after the storm, after the earthquake.
And so, I am not one who will rush toward these changes. I will probably run from them. I can always pray that somehow this foolishness is at least moderated somewhat…
But, most of all, I do ask God to continue to be present to me, no matter what.
You must become as little children
In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells us “…unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
I was thinking of this today as I was listening to music from the Mexican Baroque period. That led me to my experience of the celebrations of our Latino community in my parish. For the Feast of Guadalupe people dress in costumes. There is a lot of joy and playfulness mixed in with the deep devotion.
Or, I think of the young father who came forward at mass with his tiny daughter, bearing a box with the ashes of his recently deceased (29 year old) wife. He asked that they be placed on the altar so that the community could pray for her, for them during mass. Why he chose the english mass when he spoke only spanish, I’ll never know. It was unplanned – a surprise to everyone, even the priest who handled it beautifully.
It seems that we Americans, and western Europeans have grown old. We have cast away childlike trust. The widower trusted that his request, his need would be honored. This just wouldn’t have happened had he been a part of the much more reserved english speaking community. We want plans. We want protocol. We are not about to bare our souls to the community and ask for healing and help.
We are hesitant to dress up and play the parts in plays. Oh, that’s okay for a 5 year old. But, where has the playfulness and innocence and trust gone?
Lord, I hope that I can indeed become as a little child more often and therefore be open to Your love, Your care, Your joy. And, I ask you to help me to trust as a child trusts.