St. James Episcopal Church - Black Mountain, NC

Meditations During Advent: An Empty Manger

Some people don’t put the baby Jesus in the creche until Christmas because, during Advent, inside of our story, the Christ child is not yet born. This practice pairs well with the intention of Advent--when the faithful are meant to be waiting, anticipating, and preparing for the coming of the Christ child. 
 
Because I was raised Baptist, I didn’t learn about holding back Jesus from the creche until I enrolled in an Episcopal college. I was conflicted because if there is one true thing about Baptists, they will not, for any reason, in any season, hold back Jesus. The Baptists in my world centered the baby Jesus in the manger from the day after Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day, when all the Christmas decorations went back into the attic.
 
I manage the conflict in myself by recommending that Jesus be held out of the creche in my professional life, at work, in the church building. But at home, I stuck with how I grew up--Jesus in the manger on Advent I.
 
I have a beautiful crecha carved of olive wood that a dear friend bought me from the Holy Land. When my kids were little, because wood is strong, I kept it on the coffee table, within their reach. The set includes all the usual suspects: the holy family, shepherds, sheep, wisemen and camels. Mary and Joseph are kneeling. The shepherds and wisemen are standing. There is a manger for the baby Jesus. My daughter, Sophie, played with it some, but mostly she liked to put baby Jesus in her pocket and carry him around. I found him in the laundry once.
 
And one afternoon the baby Jesus ended up at The Hop Ice Cream Shop. It was December and the afternoon was dragging on--we went for peppermint ice cream. I was sitting across from Sophie with her little sister in my lap. Sophie pulled the baby Jesus from her pocket and plunked him on the table. It seemed like a decent enough afternoon—the baby Jesus and peppermint ice cream.
 
Except that was the last time I ever saw that baby Jesus. I swore I watched Sophie put Jesus back into her pocket. I swore I checked he was still in her pocket once we were in the car. But when we got home, he was gone. I traced our steps. I checked the car. Under the seats, between the seats. We drove back to The Hop. I scoured the parking lot.
 
Losing baby Jesus felt like someone was missing from a party of our creche. It was like the last piece in the puzzle was lost. Like a player was absent from the line-up.  
 
I never found the baby Jesus and I fretted over it until it finally came to me that I wasn’t meant to find him.
 
Still to this day it is difficult to trust the sacred gift inside of emptiness, I think because I always thought of emptiness as diminished and impotent. The empty manger invites another possibility –that emptiness is not so much a void but an opening. In the emptiness of the manger, like the empty tomb, there is room for a fullness which cannot be contained. And it is inside of emptiness that we encounter it.
 
 
Words from Sufi poet Rumi:
 
But don’t be satisfied with stories,
how things have gone with others.
Unfold your own myth, without complicated explanation,
so everyone will understand the passage,
We have opened you.
 
Start walking… Your legs will get heavy and tired.
Then comes a moment
of feeling the wings you’ve grown,
lifting.
 
- The Rev. Judith Whelchel

Meditations During Advent: And God Said That It Was Good

Friends of Silence is “a non-profit endeavor to facilitate others in reverencing silence, prayer, contemplation, the Divine Guest, and the Oneness of all creation as well as to encourage the life-giving empowerment that derives from the Silence.”Nan Merrill, a woman of wisdom and compassion, began Friends of Silence in Detroit in 1987 as an urban contemplative community welcoming individuals of all faiths and cultures. I have been a follower of Nan’s since I came upon her beautiful translation of the Psalms, “Psalms For Praying.” I wrote my Meditation for today on Tuesday evening, and then tossed it when I found this Advent “Liturgy for the Night” by Padraig O'Tuama in a Friends of Silence Newsletter.  Ó Tuama is a poet and a theologian. For Ó Tuama, religion, conflict, power and poetry all circle around language, that original sacrament.
Liturgy for the Night
On the first night God said: 'Let there be darkness.' And God separated light from dark; and in the dark, the land rested, the people slept, and the plants breathed, the world retreated. The first night.And God said that it was Good.On the second night God said: 'There will be conversations that happen in the dark that can't happen in the day.' The second night.And God said that it was Good.On the third night God said: 'Let there be things that can only be seen by night.' And God created stars and insects and luminescence. The third night.And God said that it was Good.On the fourth night God said: 'Some things that happen in the harsh light of day will be troubled. Let there be a time of rest to escape the raw light.' The fourth night.And God said that it was Good.On the fifth night, God said: "There will be people who will work by night, whose light will be silver, whose sleep will be by day and whose labor will be late.' And God put a softness at the heart of the darkness. The fifth night.And God said that it was Good.And on the sixth night God listened. And there were people working, and people crying, and people seeking shadow, and people telling secrets, and people aching for company. There were people aching for space and people aching for solace. And God hoped that they'd survive. And God made twilight, and shafts of green to hang from the dark skies, small comforts to accompany the lonely, the joyous, the needy and the needed. The sixth night.And God said that it was Good.And on the last night, God rested. And the rest was good. The rest was very good.And God said that it was very Good.                                                                       
Amen
 
- The Rev. Dr. Bruce Grob

SERMON | December 11: Are We There Yet?

"We—this day—and in the days to come, are part of the Coming of the Christ in this world."
- The Rev. Mary Catherine Cole
 
Isaiah 35:1-10
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11
Canticle 15 

Meditations During Advent: Journeys and Surprises

The stories that are told to us from Scripture during the Advent and Christmas Seasons are often stories told of folk on a journey…
An Angel pays a visit to Mary in Nazareth to let her know that she will be the God-bearer. Mary goes on a trip to visit her pregnant cousin Elizabeth. Mary and Joseph go from Nazareth to Bethlehem to be counted as part of the census. The shepherds are with their sheep in a field as they encounter angels who proclaim news of a Messiah born and they travel to Bethlehem to see this baby and his parents. Kings make a long journey following a star to visit the one for whom they have been waiting. 
We are invited on a journey during Advent as well; both a journey into the stories of our faith and tradition and the memories and feelings that those stories conjure and an inward journey, as we ponder and reflect on our belonging in the heart of God and in the heart of this St. James community.  What we find on our Advent journey may be surprising…and we can know that we are in good company with our surprise. That, too, is part of the Advent story. Imagine Elizabeth’s surprise, and Mary’s surprise, and the shepherds in the field at night, or the wisemen… 
What we can be grounded in on this trip through the pages of our holy stories and in the inner workings of our heart is that we are held in the heart of the Beloved as we make our trip. And that we may be surprised by how we experience God’s love and work as we journey during this season.
 
- The Rev. Mary Catherine Cole

Meditations During Advent: Precious Memories

One of my favorite activities of this season is decorating my Christmas tree. It begins with a trip with my grandson to Boyd Mountain tree farm to pick out the perfect Frasier Fir. Jason has been going with me to get the tree for many years. After the tree home and securely in its stand and in the house, I get down the container with each ornament lovingly wrapped in tissue paper. As I unwrap each ornament, memories flood into my heart. I have ornaments on my tree that were my mother’s and I remember how these beautiful glass ornaments looked on our tree when I was a child. I have ornaments made by a dear friend of the family. There are ornaments made by my children in preschool.  The animals which hung from their crib mobile now grace my tree. Many of the ornaments were gifts from dear friends and family members. I even have a heart made from one of Jack’s shirts. My tree doesn’t have a theme or a particular color palate, but it holds so much love and so many precious memories. The angel on the top has been on my tree year after year for more years than I can count. When it is time to take the tree down, I wrap each ornament in tissue paper and place it carefully away for another year. 
I recognize that I am very fortunate that my memories of Christmas are so filled with love and joy. Not everyone is so lucky; for some people Christmas is a time of uncertainty and anxiety. For some it is a time of grief and loneliness.  But Advent, this time of quiet, of short days and long nights reminds us that the light of God’s love can penetrate even the darkest of nights. We can hope – we can incline our hearts toward the light in confidence that the light has come. 
Though my parents died more than 35 years ago and Jack, my sweet husband four years ago, the precious memories of their lives bring me joy even as I grieve. I sit quietly with only the white lights of the tree illuminating the room and cherish each memory as I place ornaments on the tree. I wonder if the people who loved and followed Jesus sat around the flickering fires and remembered their walk with the divine after the resurrection?  I can just hear them saying, “You remember when Jesus walked on water? Peter tried to follow and sank like the rock he is,” accompanied by much laughter. Remembering keeps alive those loved ones who have passed into another realm.
As we continue our Advent journey, relish this time in the memories. Anticipate the brightness of the star that leads the way to Jesus as the darkness enfolds you.  Anticipate the angel’s songs as you live in silence. Look forward to the extravagant gift of God’s love which is coming and is already here. Take your time; don’t hurry. Like Mary, take time to ponder all these things in your heart. 
Here is an Advent Blessing from Jan Richardson in her book, Circle of Grace.
 
A Blessing for Traveling in the Dark
Go slowif you can.Slower.More slowly still.Friendly darkor fearsome,this is no placeto break your neckby rushing,by running,by crashing intowhat you cannot see.
Then again,it is true:different darkshave different tasks,and if youhave arrived here unawares,if you have comein perilor in pain,this might be no placeyou should dawdle.
I do not knowwhat these shadowsask of you,what they might holdthat means you goodor ill.It is not for meto reckonwhether you should lingeror you should leave.
But this is whatI can ask for you:
That in the darknessthere be a blessing.That in the shadowsthere be a welcome.That in the nightyou be encompassedby the Love that knowsyour name.
 
- The Rev. Dn. Kristie Neal 
 

Meditations During Advent: The World Is About To Turn

Joan Chittister wrote, “The function of Advent is to remind us of what weare waiting for as we go through life too busy with things that do not matterto remember the things that do.”
In times of great joy and great despair we are reminded of what mattersand what does not. However, so much of our time we are on automatic. Weare just getting through the day. We are following our routine.
Then something wonderful or awful happens, and we remember how littlewe can control. That moves us to turn to God in thanksgiving or in petition.
As the days get darker, we are invited to prepare for the birth of God inflesh in this world; in this city; in our lives. This means to widen our vision.
The Christmas celebration is not merely about an event in Bethlehem. It’s about what is being born in us and in this world. It’s about rediscovering that the Word becomes Flesh and dwells among us in Black Mountain, NC and in the entire world.
Therefore, what we are waiting for is not under the tree. Nor will it bedelivered by Amazon. We are waiting for God to break in and make theworld right. “O come O come Emmanuel and ransom” Black Mountain. Theholy birth is not a one-time event. God in Christ through the Holy Spirit isbeing born every second of every day for those willing to receive.
But every gift has consequences. To be equipped for the work of theministry assumes one is about the work, and that work is to be aninstrument God can use to turn the world right side up.
There’s a contemporary version of the Magnificat written by Rory Cooney.
 
Here’s one verse:
 
“Though I am small, my God, my all,
You work great things in me.And your mercy will last from the depthsOf the pastTo the end of the age to be.Your very name puts the proud to shame,And those who would for you yearn,You will show your might, put the strong to flight,for the world is about to turn.”
 
This Advent let us remember that “what we are waiting for” is for God touse us to change the world.
 
- The Rt. Rev. Porter Taylor

Meditations During Advent: Advent as Gestation

If you bring forth what is within you,
what is within you will save you.
If you don’t bring forth what is within you,
what is within you will kill you.
 
The Gospel of Thomas
 
There is a moment carrying a child that the first movements are felt. It is usually a very subtle sensation—a flutter, like the womb has made wings. The feeling is so subtle that sometimes the first movements are not noticed at all. Sometimes the movements are missed because the day is full, full to overflowing, and the movements go unrecognized. Sometimes the movements are dismissed as a muscle twitch or some tickle in the gut. But sometimes, in a room with the door closed and the lights down, lying very still, the movements can be felt for what they are: a new reality announcing itself from within.
 
Sometimes what is in us, makes a louder declaration of its presence. When I was pregnant with my first child, I had a recurring dream that a furry little creature, some sort of monkey, came out of my navel, looked up at me and waved, before crawling back inside. The dream both delighted me and terrified me.
 
The holy child in us, wants to be recognized. (In my case, a holy monkey.)
 
Meister Eckhart says: We are all meant to be mothers of God—all meant to bear Christ in the world. Being mother of God is not an instantaneous event, it is a becoming, always gestating Christ in us by our spiritual practice. A friend said to me this week: The first 40 years of parenting is really hard. We do not become a Christian; we are always becoming Christian—always gestating the divine within. There is a Reality within that performs somersaults to get our attention, that shows itself in our dreams.
 
Eckhart says by this holy work we are not transformed, we are superformed—made into the very Reality we gestate with us. As we seek the Christ, we become the Christ. We mother ourselves into spiritual wholeness. Advent is the season we are meant to commit ourselves as mothers to our own souls—the possibility is both delightful and terrifying.
 
We can bring forth what is within us. Or not.
 
- The Rev. Judith Whelchel

Meditations During Advent: The Light Is Trying To Reach Us

I think of Christmas as the “extrovert” of the church calendar.
It is social and busy. It is loud and flashy and well-fed and adorned. It’s beautiful and charismatic and has the most wonderful story to tell. Christmas is the guest everyone is eagerly watching for. We’re looking out the window, checking our watches, and clamoring to the door as it finally pulls into the driveway. It’s here!Personally, I have always loved the season of Advent. It is the “introvert” of the church calendar.
Advent is expectant and full of hope. There is a solemn quality to the waiting; something grounded and okay with the stillness. The waiting itself feels sacred.
It is a patient season. Advent asks us to make peace with the lingering and reminds us that we can. It gently shows us again that there can be deep joy in that in-between place. Advent resets the church as a space for holy listening.
How can I create a place in my life - simple, open, warm, stilled - that is prepared to receive the smallest, humblest, most vulnerable version of divinity when it comes quietly knocking at my door?
We light candles in the early dark, sing songs, talk about the “never stopping, never giving up, unbreaking, always and forever love” of God. We ask God for new eyes to see the miracle that intentionally makes its home in the midst of our daily mess.
The early darkness of Advent does not come from a different place than light; it is not presided over by a different God. The long nights of Advent and the early morning light of Christmas both point us toward the God for whom darkness and light are alike. Both are fertile seasons for those who walk by faith and not by sight.
I have always been mesmerized by a candle’s flame, slowly bowing back and forth. It feels like it is reaching for me. The light is trying to reach me.
 
- The Rev. Dr. Bruce Grob

SERMON | December 4: The Importance of Mothers

Hang on to the deep orientation of your heart to justice, peace and harmony
-The Rev. Dn. Kristi Neal

Mediations During Advent: Practicing the Peaceable Kin-dom Within….

Wolves living with lambs, leopards lying down with kids, lions eating straw like oxen, nursing babes crawling over snake holes. These images from Isaiah are vivid, and while I can clearly picture the wolf or the lamb or the leopard or the child separately, it is hard for me to put them all together in one peaceable, calm scene.
I wonder if, in this Advent Season, we are invited to hold the images together for a reason.
Life—as you know—is not so simple as predator and prey. Protector and protected. Maybe we are offered up this text again as an invitation to move inward--as we know that the lives we live are much more complex than a straightforward, simple scene.
When I was a teenager, my mother died during the Christmas season…and for that reason, this time of year is always difficult for me. Grief and sadness are surely part of my inner world at Christmastime.
What I also know to be true is that my grief sits alongside deep joy as I watch Matthew enjoy decorating our Christmas tree, or as I take a long walk in the quiet woods, or when I go for a run with my dog and a good friend and have moments of needed soul connection during the week.
Our feelings of sadness and joy are close neighbors, maybe even kin-folk…that often feel like they cannot and do not belong together on the same street. And yet, when we pay attention, when we turn inside, we can notice them together.
What we know is that it is not always easy to have these neighbors who are kin living inside of us, especially this time of year. So part of the practice is to pray and live towards the knowing that they can peaceably exist without one swallowing the other.
Just as with grief and joy, so can be the same with fear and peace, shame and belonging, anger and despair, doubt and belief.
The beautiful passage from Isaiah from this past Sunday offers an aspirational image of God’s peaceable Kin-dom...and the invitation on this day is to practice blessing our inner kin-dom. Where we are able to hold tenderly all the parts of ourselves, all of our experiences as Beloved by God, held within the Circle of God’s Blessed Love.
 
- The Rev. Mary Catherine Cole