Baptism of the Lord C: Becoming

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Butterfly and waterOLD TESTAMENT: Isaiah 43: 1-7

Read the Old Testament passage

This is another of Second Isaiah’s oracles of hope. It is essentially written with the idea that the divine calling of the prophet is to comfort all people. It is a clear pronouncement of God’s presence in Israel and with the people. This passage uses some clear language—created, formed, named—in both its opening and at the end. And in between this inclusio, of sorts, is a depiction of God’s redemption and salvation. It reminds us that God never leaves God’s people, that God is always and forever present with the ones that God created, offering them continued renewal, recreation, and redemption.

The central verses of today’s passage elaborate the nature of Israel’s redemption. Israel is named by God and belongs to God. Israel is redeemed not as a tool in God’s hand but as the beloved in a close relationship. References to the wealthiest nations of Africa at that time (Egypt, Ethiopia, and Seba) emphasize how precious Israel is to God. Israel’s redemption is not manipulated from afar by a distant deity but is experienced through the presence of God among them. Israel is not promised escape from the dangers of water and fire but that God will be with them in the midst of earthly trials. In this we hear echoes of the flood and the wilderness wanderings. But these verbs are in the present tense, reminding us of the past but also of God’s continued presence and continuing offering of redemption. God seeks to comfort the ones that God loves. Rather than judgment, the people are offered grace.

Remember that this part of Isaiah was probably written to exiled people as the time of exile was ending. It was an invitation to return home. So, from that standpoint, it echoes our own invitation to baptism and for us baptized, a reminder to remember the journey that we travel.

This is a wonderful passage to read in conjunction with the whole idea of Baptism. Through Jesus’ baptism, of which we will read in a moment, that same love is affirmed on an individual basis and is offered to all. For us, it is a reminder for us to envision that redemption as a part of our incarnation, a part of our formation. In essence we are living already redeemed, already loved and beloved, and already beyond what we think is possible. Ukranian / Russian philosopher Lev Shestov said that “It is only when [one] wishes the impossible that [he or she] remembers God. To obtain that which is possible, [one] turns to those like [him or herself].” Baptism is a reminder that we are more than what we imagine and that we connect with a God who is more than what we know and that, no matter what, God walks us through those waters toward redemption.

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What does that mean to live “already redeemed”?
  3. Do you think we really grasp God’s love for us? What stands in the way of our truly understanding that?
  4. What does it mean to live “beyond the possible”?

 

NEW TESTAMENT: Acts 8: 14-17

Read the passasge from The Acts of the Apostles

After the stoning of Stephen, the Greek-speaking believers fled Jerusalem to avoid arrest. Philip went to Samaria and through his preaching, a number of Samaritans became believers in Christ. Essentially, the spread of the Gospel was in full swing. The problem was that they had apparently gotten a little excited and perhaps ahead of themselves. So these people had been “baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ” but, supposedly had not received the Holy Spirit. (Although, I’m not sure how they were able to measure that! Perhaps they were just making sure they had said the words right.) So when the apostles arrive, they prayed that the Samaritan believers would be given the Holy Spirit (assuming, of course, that that had not happened before). Here, Baptism is essentially a technical term for “immersion” into the full person of God—the Father, the Son, & the Holy Spirit. But now, these believers have also received the Spirit (Whew!).

As odd as this Scripture is, it is reminding us that Baptism cannot be separated from formation. Even when we baptize infants, there is an understanding that formation has begun, that the Holy Spirit has begun to be a part of their lives. It is more than just saying that one believes in God. At all stages of formation, Baptism, the Spirit, and formation cannot be separated. Baptism alone does not make a relationship with God; it is rather an ongoing and continual growth toward oneness with God.

Keep in mind that all through the Book of Acts, these new believers are sort of in “transition”. They knew they had something but they didn’t know what it was or what to do with it. (Perhaps they are not that different from us!) But once it was clarified that this baptism was in the name of Jesus, they understood. This understanding prompts the Holy Spirit. This, though, does not presume a formal relationship between Baptism and the reception of the Holy Spirit. The liturgy is not a magical potion but, rather, a proclamation of what God has done and what God is doing. Baptism is more than about individual experiences. It is, rather, an extension of what God is doing in the world.

Interestingly, a large part of our understanding of baptism is formulaic—“I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit”. They cannot be separated. (The main part of the reason the United Methodists do not “accept” the baptism of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints has to do with this formula. The LDS baptism is done in the name of Jesus and at that point membership is confirmed. The Holy Spirit is a gift to the baptized that comes AFTER baptism.)

But maybe the conversation needs to include less about what we do and more about what God does. Ultimately, God does the work of conversion rather than us. We can proclaim, we can pray, and we can cultivate spiritual practices. I suppose, sadly, we can even scare people into coming to the altar, holding out some sort of God-forsakenness in an unbaptized existence. But when it’s all said and done, it is God and God alone who converts us. We are invited into what God has already done and what God continues to do. We are invited into transformation.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What happens if we lose the “formation” part of our Baptismal language?
  3. In what ways do you think we typically “misunderstand” baptism?
  4. What affect does that understanding of baptism have on the church itself?
  5. How do we typically understand the presence of the Holy Spirit in baptism?
  6. How do you think we typically understand God’s work in baptism?

 

 

GOSPEL: Luke 3: 15-17, 21-22

Read the Gospel passage

The early part of the Gospel According to Luke is filled with “expectation-building”. The writer relates the story of Jesus’ birth, his early trip to Jerusalem, and the arrival of John the Baptizer. I think on some level, the writer of Luke is building to this moment—birth, formation, and life in its fullest, creation, redemption, and eternal life. John replies to the expectations of the people by telling them that someone greater than he is coming. This message is shared by all three synoptic Gospels, but the reply concerning the threshing floor occurs only in Matthew and Luke. The Baptist mentions the baptism of the Holy Spirit and fire.

The seriousness of baptism is made clear by the metaphor of the threshing floor. This is not an act to undergo lightly. We do not believe that it just something that we have to do; it is instead linked to salvation. It is inclusive. We are judged, we are redeemed, and we are given the gift of life. It is not merely a rite of the church. It is the active work of God. And, notice, that even this very human Jesus, Son of God though he was, could not baptize himself. It is a communal act. We are all part of something bigger than ourselves.

And then the heaven is opened and the Holy Spirit descends. All of heaven spills into the earth. (What a mess THAT probably makes!) The two can no longer be separated. Like the passage from Isaiah depicts, God is with us. This is the inauguration of Jesus’ kingship. Finally, there is room. Eternity dawns in this moment. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the work begins.

This story of Jesus’ Baptism calls us to remember our own. It, too, is our beginning as the gift of God’s grace washes away those things that impede our relationship with God and gives us new birth, new life. And it calls us to do something with our life. But I actually don’t remember the day of my baptism. It happened when I was a little over seven months old, on Palm Sunday, April 15, 1962. It was at First United Methodist Church, Brookshire, TX and Rev. Bert Condrey was the officiant. I had a special dress and lots of family present. That would be all I really know.

And yet we are reminded to “remember our baptism”. What does that mean for those of us who don’t? I think “remembering” is something bigger than a chronological recount of our own memories. It is bigger than remembering what we wore or where we stood or who the actual person was that touched our head with or even immersed us in water. It means remembering our very identity, our creation, what it is that made us, that collective memory that is part of our tradition, our liturgy, our family.

That is what “remembering” our baptism is. It’s not just remembering the moment that we felt that baptismal stream; it is remembering the story into which we entered. It is at that point that the Christian family became our own as we began to become who God intends us to be. And for each of us, whether or not we noticed it, the heavens spilled into the earth and the Holy Spirit emerged. And we, too, were conferred with a title. “This is my child, my daughter or son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

And in that moment, whether we are infants or older, we are ordained for ministry in the name of Jesus Christ. We are ordained to the work of Christ and the work of Christ’s church. Caroline Westerhoff says that “at baptism we are incorporated into Christ’s body, infused with Christ’s character, and empowered to be Christ’s presence in the world. [So then], ministry is not something in particular that we do; it is what we are about in everything we do.” (in Calling: A Song for the Baptized, by Caroline Westerhoff, p. xi) In other words, our own Baptism sweeps us into that dawn that Jesus began. And, like Jesus, our own Baptism calls us and empowers us to empty ourselves before God. As we begin to find ourselves standing in those waters with Christ, we also find ourselves ready to be followers of Christ.

You are part of something beyond yourself, beyond what you know, and beyond what you can remember. Rainer Maria Rilke once said that “the future enters into us, in order to transform itself in us, long before it happens.” Your past now reaches far back before you were here and your future is being transformed and redeemed in you even as we speak.

 

I’ve heard that Martin Luther, the great Protestant Reformation leader, passionately reminded people to “Remember your baptism!” I can’t remember my own baptism. It happened in Canton, Ohio, at St. Joseph’s Church, when I was only two weeks old. But I think Luther meant something bigger than our historical memory of one day. And I have a feeling he wasn’t just talking about dressing up in a pretty white dress or suit, having a party and, if we’re a baby, everyone saying how sweet we look. In his catechism, Luther wrote, “A truly Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism once begun and ever to be continued.” I think Martin Luther wanted us to remember each day who we are, and whose we are, and how beloved we are. Even in an age when we spend so much time talking about “self esteem,” don’t we still long to hear that we are beloved? (From a reflection on this week’s lectionary by Kate Huey, available at http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/january-10-2010.html, accessed 6 January, 2010.)

 

After he was baptized, Jesus stood, dripping wet, to enter his ministry. The heavens opened up and poured into the earth. All of humanity was there in that moment—those gone, those to come. We now stand, wet with those same waters, as we, too, are called into ministry in the name of Christ. Then…it is up to you to finish the story. This day and every day, remember your baptism, remember that you are a daughter or son of God with whom God is well pleased and be thankful. You are now part of the story, part of this ordering of chaos, part of light emerging from darkness, part of life born from death. You are part of God’s re-creation. And it is very, very good. Go and do likewise.

 

  1. What meaning does this hold for you?
  2. What meaning does this shed on your own baptism?
  3. What meaning does this hold for your own spiritual journey?
  4. What does it mean to be “beloved”, to see yourself as a daughter or son of God?
  5. What does it mean to imagine that God is indeed “well pleased” with you?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

The soul must long for God in order to be set aflame by God’s love; but if the soul cannot yet feel this longing, then it must long for the longing. To long for the longing is also from God. (Meister Eckhart)

 

What we are looking for on earth and in earth and in our lives is the process that can unlock for us the mystery of meaningfulness in our daily lives. It has been the best-kept secret down through the ages because it is so simple. Truly, the last place it would ever occur to most of us to find the sacred would be in the commonplace of our everyday lives and all about us in nature and in simple things.   (Alice O. Howell, The Dove in the Stone)

 

You are destined to fly, but that cocoon has got to go! (Nelle Morton)

 

 

Closing

Invite people to renew their Baptism by saying to each other. “Remember who and whose you are, God’s beloved daughter with whom God is well pleased.”

 

Think about it…Jesus was still wet with water after John had baptized him when he stood to enter his ministry in full submission to God. As he stood in the Jordan and the heavens spilled into the earth, all of humanity stood with him. We now stand, wet with those same waters, as we, too, are called into ministry in the name of Christ. As we emerge, we feel a cool refreshing breeze of new life. Breathe in. It will be with you always. Then…it is up to you to finish the story. Then…the journey begins. So remember who and whose you are. Remember your baptism and be thankful for it is who you are.

 

Wash, O God, our sons and daughters, where your cleansing waters flow. Number them among your people bless as Christ blessed long ago. Weave them garments bright and sparkling; compass them with love and light. Fill, anoint them; send your Spirit, holy dove, and heart’s delight.

 

We who bring them long for nurture; by your milk may we be fed. Let us join your feast, partaking cup of blessing, living bread. God, renew us, guide our footsteps, free from sin and all its snares, one with Christ in living, dying, by your Spirit, children, heirs.

 

O how deep your holy wisdom! Unimagined, all your ways! To your name be glory, honor! With our lives we worship, praise! We your people stand before you, water-washed and Spiritborn. By your grace, our lives we offer. Recreate us; God, transform!

(Ruth Duck, “Wash, O God, Our Sons and Daughters”, The United Methodist Hymnal, #605)

Epiphany: When the Wise Ones Came

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Wisemen and MangerOLD TESTAMENT: Isaiah 60: 1-6

Read the Old Testament Passage

Having just previously declared that God is coming as Redeemer, the writer of this part of Isaiah calls Israel to “Arise, Shine”. Essentially, it is a proclamation that God, the eternal Light, has come. God’s Presence is already here and the transformation of the world has begun.

Now keep in mind that this was probably written at the end of the Babylonian exile. The once-thriving Jerusalem now sits empty, ravaged and desolate. The people lived in darkness and exile. The temple is gone, destroyed in the attack. And the dynasty of David, the veritable hope for the future, seemed to be at its floundering end. It would have been easy to miss seeing any good that might come of the situation, easy to miss any hint of things getting better. So this is the crescendo of the preparation for God’s arrival. Come on people, the prophet screams, Wake up! Don’t you see it? Things are happening! The days of waiting are over. Your children are being gathered even as we speak to return home. It is time now, time for Israel to become who God intended—a light to the nations.

Now, of course, it’s easy for us to sort of tack this passage on to our story of the Wise Men from the Gospel of Luke, but this really did have to do with the exile. The Presence of God was palpable, moving into the desolation and beginning to re-create Jerusalem. It was time now to shape their life together as a people and as a community.

But for us, there is also that undercurrent of eschatological reflection. Our hereafter, our “heaven” as we know it, is not something out there or up there or just up ahead. It is here. We just have to look around and see it. There are streams of souls in procession. We just have to find our place. And yet, even Israel didn’t understand the message any more than we do. God is not promising to make our lives easier, or to fill us with wealth and power, or to put us on top. God is promising to remake us, transform us into something completely different. God is promising not a return to normalcy but a new normal. In fact, if you read it, it’s a new normal for everyone—for all those camel drivers regardless of where they come from—Midian, Ephah, Sheba. In today’s terms, it’s all the camel drivers from somewhere in the Sudan, possibly modern-day Iraq, and probably Ethiopia, descending into the Holy Places not to go to war or to take people into exile but to come together, bringing their resources, and praising God as one.

This week we read three Scriptures that make up our Epiphany text. Perhaps we miss Epiphany. It sort of gets overshadowed by all the chaotic over-seasoning that came in the weeks before and the mad sprint toward Lent that is only weeks away. So we put on the green “ordinary” stoles and try to get our heads back above the ensuing waves. And yet, this is the place where it all comes together—the past promises that were made even as far back as the exile, that birth of the holy child that we just celebrated, and the rest—all of us that came after. The past now makes sense and the future becomes real. God’s Presence is always and forever in-breaking into this world. So, “Arise, Shine! For your light has come!” God is transforming all of us even as we speak.

 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. Why is it so hard for all of us to gain a sense of God’s Presence in the darkness?
  3. What signs of the sacred and transformation do you see now?
  4. What stands in the way of your seeing that transformation?
  5. Do we lose something of the story if we read this solely as a prophetic recount of Christ rather than in the context in which it was written?

 

 

NEW TESTAMENT: Ephesians 3: 1-12

Read the Epistle passage

Paul and his disciples never used the word “Epiphany”. In fact, the day never really was mentioned until around the 4th century. And yet, whoever wrote this (probably not Paul), came really close to the whole notion that we celebrate: Something new has happened in Jesus. This was no ordinary baby. This was no ordinary mother. These were not ordinary shepherds and not your average run-of-the-mill Wise Men. They were all part of a new order, a new normal.

The writer acknowledges that this mystery of God’s Presence, the notion of the holy and the sacred actually being a part of us, was not made known to everyone. But now is the time. The Gentiles have been brought into the story, made characters in the ongoing story of God’s Incarnation. The point of the writing is to further explain what the readers of the letter have already gotten. They have already been gifted with this manifestation of Christ. They just had to open their eyes to know it. But this is not the “accepted” news and so the text implies that Paul’s relating of this mystery is the reason for his imprisonment (and, perhaps, you could surmise, the reason that one of Paul’s disciples may be writing this letter.)

But the writer does not seem to be discouraged. The Spirit has now made known what in former times was concealed, namely that the Gentiles are now fellow heirs, fellow members of the same body, and fellow participants in the promises. This idea of grace extended to all, even those seemingly unexpected recipients, is not really a new thing to Paul or to this writer. The assertion is that the mystery has been hidden with God, who is the creator of all things, suggesting that this mystery has always been God’s plan. This mystery in Christ — Lord over all peoples, both Jew and Gentiles — was the eternal plan of God, but only in the last days has God made it evident and begun its fulfillment.

The greatest celebration of the Incarnation is this celebration of the diversity and wisdom of the church brought together in unity, just as those Wise Men from the East (and Gentiles to boot), experienced the Presence of God. The greatest celebration of the Church is the coming together of all of this wisdom so that all in their own understanding might experience the Presence of God. The mystery is that this Holy Child, this Sacred Son of God, this Christ, this Messiah, is really intended to be Savior to us All.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. How would this message be received by our society today?
  3. What does this new order mean for you?
  4. If diversity is the “new order” and the “mystery for the church, what does that mean in our modern culture?
  5. Do we really understand the concept of Jesus as “Savior to us All”?

 

 

GOSPEL: Matthew 2: 1-12

Read the Gospel passage

Our Gospel text this week begins by setting us “in the time of King Herod”. And in it, we find that the last question of Advent comes not at Christmas but afterward and is asked not by an individual but by a group. They believe that the star (or, for some, an unusual conjunction of heavenly bodies that produces an especially bright light) marks the birth of a special child destined to be a king. They ask, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?

And so Herod hears that a king had been born in Bethlehem. Well, the formula is simple—a king is born, but a king is already here; and in Herod’s mind and the minds of all those who follow him, there is room for only one king. The passage says that King Herod was frightened and all Jerusalem with him. They probably were pretty fearful. After all, there was a distinct possibility that their world was about to change. It seemed that the birth of this humble child might have the ability to shake the very foundations of the earth and announce the fall of the mighty. Things would never be the same again.

So Herod relies on these wisest ones in his court. The writer of Matthew’s Gospel says that they’re from the East. Some traditions hold that these wise men were Magi, a Priestly caste of Persian origin that followed Zoroastrianism and practiced the interpretation of dreams and portents and astrology. Other traditions depict them with different ethnicities as the birth of this Messiah begins to move into the whole world. But somewhere along the way, they had heard of the birth of this king and came to the obvious place where he might be—in the royal household. So, sensing a rival, Herod sends these “wise ones” to find the new king so that he could “pay homage” to him. We of course know that this was deceitful. His intent was not to pay homage at all, but to destroy Jesus and stop what was about to happen to his empire. It was the only way that he could preserve what he had.

According to the passage, the wise men know that Christ was born; they needed God’s guidance, though, to find where Christ was. When they get to the place where the star has stopped, the passage tells us that they were “overwhelmed with joy”. They knelt down and paid the new king homage and offered him gifts fit for a king. Even though later interpreters have often tried to place specific meanings on these gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, it is possible that the writer of the Gospel According to Matthew simply thought that these gifts, exotic and expensive as they were, were gifts that would be worthy of a great and mighty king. They were gifts of joy, gifts of gratitude, gifts of celebration.

And then the passage tells us that, heeding a warning in a dream, these wise and learned (and probably powerful) members of the court of Herod, left Bethlehem and returned to their own country, a long and difficult journey through the Middle Eastern desert. Rather than returning to their comfortable lives and their secure and powerful places in the court of Herod, they left and went a different way. They knew they had to go back to life. But it didn’t have to be the same.

So they slip away. Herod is furious. He has been duped. So he issues an order that all the children two years old and younger in and around Bethlehem should be killed. The truth is that Jesus comes into the world as it actually is, not as we wish it to be. Evil and greed are real and the ways of the world can and do crush life.

It is not really any different for us. After all, what has changed? Has Christmas produced for us some sort of “new normal”? There are too many places in the world where wars still rage. There are children that went to bed hungry last night and people in our own city that slept outside wrapped in anything that they could find hoping to stay warm. There are families in Connecticut still grieving over the loss of their children to a mad man. And, in the midst of it all, Congress is still arguing over something called a fiscal cliff. What has changed? Well, not much. Truth be told, everything seems to have pretty much returned to normal.

But, then, think about that first Christmas. This passage moves the story beyond the quiet safety of the manger. We realize that the manger is actually placed in the midst of real life, with sometimes dark and foreboding forces and those who sometimes get it wrong.   The primary characters are, of course, God and these visitors, these foreign Gentiles who did not even worship in the ways of the Jewish faith. They were powerful, intelligent, wealthy, and were accustomed to using their intellect and their logic to understand things. You know, they were a lot like us. But they found that the presence of the Divine in one’s life is not understood in the way that we understand a math equation. It is understood by becoming it.

Maybe that’s the point about Christmas that we’ve missed. Maybe it’s not just about the nativity scene. Maybe it’s more about what comes after. We often profess that Jesus came to change the world. But that really didn’t happen. Does that mean that this whole Holy Birth was a failure, just some sort of pretty, romantic story in the midst of our sometimes chaotic life? Maybe Jesus didn’t intend to change the world at all; maybe Jesus, Emmanuel, God with Us, came into this world to change us. Maybe, then, there IS a new normal. It has to do with what we do after. It has to do with how we choose to go back to our lives. Do we just pick up where we left off? Or do we, like those wise men choose to go home by another way?

Many of us bemoan what seems to be a take-over of our Christmas by the culture and the society. We hear time and time again a calling to “put Christ back in Christmas”. Well, I don’t think that’s the problem. God in Christ has never left. We are not called to put Christ back in Christmas; we are called to put ourselves there. The story tells us that. The young Mary didn’t just come on the scene for a starlit evening. She was there, there at the cross. Her whole life became immersed in this child that she brought into the world. The shepherds stopped what they were doing, leaving their sheep on a hillside outside of Bethlehem with no protection from bandits or wild animals and thereby risking everything they knew, everything that would preserve their life the way it was. And those Wisemen? They never went back. They chose to go home by another way.

And what about us? We are called to place ourselves in the story. We all have to go back. We all have to return to our lives. But that manger so long ago is not that far removed from us. In fact, it’s really sort of in the middle of our lives. God did not just visit our little earth so long ago and then return to wherever God lives. God came as Emmanuel, God with Us, and that has never changed. The birth of Jesus means that God was born in a specific person in a specific place. The Christmas story affirms to us that God is here, that the Messiah for whom we had waited has come, that we are in God’s hands. But the Epiphany story moves it beyond the manger. And all of a sudden we are part of the story. We are part of the Incarnation of God, the manifestation of God’s Presence here on our little earth. The God in whose hands we rest danced into our very lives and is now all over our hands. It is our move. God was not just born into the child Jesus; God is born into us, into humanity. And the world really hasn’t changed. But we have. And we are called to change the world.

 

  1. What meaning does this hold for you?
  2. What “other way” are we called to travel?
  3. What do you think of the notion that Jesus came to change not the world itself but us?
  4. What new light (pun intended) does Epiphany shed on the meaning of Christmas for you?

 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

The desire to find God and to see God and to love God is the one thing that matters. (Thomas Merton)

Get this first epiphany right–God perfectly hidden and perfectly revealed in the actual, and all the rest of the year will not surprise or disappoint you…If God can be manifest in a baby in a poor stable for the unwanted, then we better be ready for God just about anywhere and in anybody. The letting-go of any attempt to compartmentalize God will always feel dangerous and maybe even like dying…And it is both the ground and the goal of all mystical experience. Now God is in all things. We can no longer separate, exclude or avoid anybody or anything, especially under the guise of religion. We all, like the Magi, must now kneel and kiss the ground, throwing our own kingships to the wind…Afterwards, we are out of control, going back home by a different route, yet realigned correctly with what-is. Reality is still the best ally of God, and God always comes disguised as our life. (Excerpts from “Epiphany: You Can’t Go Home Again”, by Richard Rohr)

When the star in the sky is gone, When the Kings and Princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flocks, he Work of Christmas begins:

               To find the lost,

               To heal the broken,

               To feed the hungry,

               To release the prisoner,

               To teach the nations,

               To bring Christ to all,

                        To make music in the heart. (Dr. Howard Thurman, ‘The Work of Christmas”)

 

Closing

 

It is not over, this birthing. There are always newer skies into which God can throw stars. When we begin to think that we can predict the Advent of God, that we can box the Christ in a stable in Bethlehem, that’s just the time that God will be born in a place we can’t imagine and won’t believe. Those who wait for God watch with their hearts and not their eyes, listening, always listening for angel words.

(Ann Weems, Kneeling in Bethlehem (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1980), 85.)