Light and Love

Christmas is all about hope. In Christian hearts it is all about the intertwined revelation and realization of Emmanuel “God with us.” The idea of God with us is all about hope, trust, faith and relief. At Christmas we are reminded of the revelation of God’s eternal presence with and within us, but we also are reminded of the revelation of the humanity of God in the Christ child. The realization that God has the experience of breath and hurt and hunger and sleep and growth and work and of all of life is the understanding that God always is with us. Even in a pandemic.

On the eve of Christmas we “gather” around our symbolic offerings of gifts and candles and we sing the carols that tell the story of the child born in a manger—divinity born in humility. On Christmas we “gather” around tables laden with the special gifts of sustenance and nourishment. At some time or other we give each other gifts as we act out the ritual of the revelation of goodness and mercy that comes in the loving act of giving. Even in this 21^st century pandemic we have managed to gather online, on the phone, through social media—we have gathered because the essence of Christmas is the shared revelation of the arrival of full-blown love among and within us.

On the First Sunday after Christmas the lectionary leads us to more spiritually metaphorical insights. The scripture points to light in the darkness. We remember in prayer the new light enkindled in our hearts. We listen to Isaiah (62:1) prophesy Jerusalem’s “vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch.” The imagery of light covers the panoply of metaphor from the slow emergence of enlightenment to the consuming fire of love. In the opening passage of John’s Gospel (1:1-18) we are treated to the image of “the light of all people” that “shines in the darkness” and yet “the darkness did not overcome it.” We learn that the prophet John the baptizer “came as a witness to testify to the light,” the “true light, which enlightens everyone.”  We are reminded of the eternity of God’s love that both “shines” right now and yet was not ever past present or future overcome by the absence of light. We are reminded in the epistle to the Galatians (4:4) that it is forever now “when the fullness of time had come” that God reminds us that we are children of love.

The metaphor of light as love is powerful precisely because as humans we have daily and constantly the experience of the revelation of light emerging and growing and shining and bringing warmth, indeed as the sunlight in Western Oregon has today brought comfort into the midst of the string of winter rain. We are reminded that this new love that we experience each year at Christmas, like light, is the realization of a promise of eternity in our hearts. In households everywhere as we hang up our new shirts and move the furniture to make way for something new, as we smile and say “thank you” over and over for our new gifts, we demonstrate how much our lives are enhanced by the sudden understanding that it was love in action that acquired that gift that now changes our daily life in simple and yet profound ways. Love enters in and once in, like the light, grows.

The metaphor for Christmas is that the truth, the now, the revelation and the realization is the moment to embrace love. Now the fullness of time has come, now we see that as children of God, created in the image of God, which is love, we must open our hearts to reveal and realize that in this love we have seen a glory full of grace and truth (John 1:14); and that “we have all received, grace upon grace” (1:16).

The light, the grace, these are love.

First Sunday after Christmas all years (Isaiah 61:10-62:3; Psalm 147 or 147:13-21; Galatians 3:23-25;4:4-7; John 1:1-18)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved

Hope

Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through the prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith–to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen– Romans 16:25-27

What else is there for me to add to the words of Paul?

God is “able to strengthen you.” Wow, do we ever need that right about now. We all need strength to keep going through a global pandemic, through a global recession, through a difficult season in our society and in our culture and in our political life. We even need strength to keep going through a season traditionally considered to be a “season of cheer” in this time when the light seems all too scarce. Paul writes that God is able to strengthen us according to his “gospel”—gospel means “good news”—Paul’s good news is the good news revealed in Christ; that God is with us always, that we all are created in God’s image, and especially that disconnection from God is removed from all of us who embrace the means of staying connected.

The mystery is now disclosed: that love is everything. God is love. We who are created in God’s image are created in love and of love. The power of connection is the power of love.

The Saturn-Jupiter super conjunction will produce a “Christmas Star” on Monday evening in certain parts of the world (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/18/style/self-care/jupiter-and-saturn-conjunction-christmas-star.html ). It is a herald. Of what we do not know, but of change we only can pray. At least we know this, the solstice means the days will begin to be a tiny bit longer, there will be each day a bit more light. It is a time for hope.

It is by this, by the possibility of hope, that God strengthens us. It is in the embrace of life and the comprehension of life through the power of love that we see what Mary said to the angel Gabriel: “For nothing will be impossible with God” (Luke 1: 37).

So here we are on the eve of the Solstice. By the way, it is Christmas now—go for it! Light your trees and your candles and have an egg nog. Embrace hope. And let the love within you light up the world.

4 Advent Year A 2020 RCL  (2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16; Canticle 15 The Song of Mary Magnificat; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Testify With Your Smile to the Light

When I started seminary one of the professors kept telling us to memorize the Psalter. We all thought she was nuts, of course. But then, over time, as we prayed the psalms not just daily but many times daily we began to understand them as hymns of faith and grace. One of the tests future priests go through is a period of hospital chaplaincy where you meet life and death head on. There we were reminded repeatedly of the power of the Psalter. It was the best way to soothe, it was the best way to feel soothed. Well, it turned out our professor was right.

Psalm 126:1 “When God restored our fortunes then were we like those who dream.”

Indeed. This is maybe the first time in my life that Advent has seemed grounded in reality to me. It is as though we descend deeper each day into the autumnal darkness metaphorically as well as in nature. The pandemic grows more powerful even as our ability to cope with isolation and deprivation and borderline (or not so borderline) despair weakens. And yet we dare to hope. We dare to smile at each other and say “this will all be over one day.” And into this moment comes the soothing of the growth of hope that the season of Advent brings. When has buying a Christmas tree or a wreath been a greater sign of faith and hope? When have the masked smiles of tree sellers and the expressions of “Happy Holidays” been sweeter? Dare we dream? Dare we look forward to a moment of restoration? Verse 6 of this psalm has the answer: “Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.” Indeed.

The purpose of the season of Advent is the expectation. It is even the purpose of the culture of Santa Claus, to teach not only little children but everyone else too what it means to expect, but to expect not only miracles but also reality. Through this experience we learn to know that what we expect is the annual rebirth of joy in our hearts, and that the joy must arrive in the midst of reality. It is where we learn to dream, to greet each other with a smile, to pray for the moment when we will reap joyous songs.

When I was a boy WWII and the Great Depression were still very real memories for my parents and grandparents. We were taught that our joy was important to hold onto, that our love for each other was critical. I was surprised to inherit recipes from my maternal grandmother that were full of substitutions necessitated by shortages and hard times. I am strengthened now by grace from my grandmother to face our own pandemic-substitutions, to see that we have the best Christmas we can manage in lockdown.

Paul gave the church at Thessalonika a straightforward set of instructions. These are (1 Thessalonians 5:16): “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” It is as tough a list in these times as any I suppose. I have found it both more necessary and more critical to pray without ceasing through this time. I have found rejoicing in the simplest places, especially in my interactions with the beauty of the world around me. It is in these small glimpses of joy that my heart is opened and I can truly give thanks. And it is in giving thanks that I find the strength to greet the dawn, to smile through my mask, to appreciate the simple gifts of a society that is trying to learn to walk in love through the midst of this valley of the shadow of death.

Is there a special message for LGBTQ people in this mid-Advent time? Only that we must remember that we are God’s children who are created to love, that to love is our identity, that the love we have to give is critical.

Christmas is coming. Christmas brings the light. We are to testify to the light as we experience it in our hearts. Rejoice, pray, give thanks, and testify with your smile to the light.

3 Advent Year B 2020 RCL (Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; Psalm 126; 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24; John 1:6-8,19-28)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Prophets of Love

A week or so ago I reminded a friend that it wasn’t Christmas yet. I told him about how, in seminary, we had Advent police who roamed the close looking for any sign of Christmas cheer before the fourth Sunday in Advent was over. Fact is, that’s one of those urban seminary legends I think—I remember we all joked about it, and the joking was enough to keep us all in line (not that final exams and preparations for a zillion masses at Christmas weren’t enough to do so on their own), but I don’t remember any actual seminarians acting, erm … prophetically, at least not in this way. On the other hand, I also remember that it didn’t take much to teach us about the ever present problem of syncretism. Syncretism is (according to Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syncretism) the blending of beliefs. A good example is the placement of national symbols in churches—both are important, both have meaning, but they are best understood individually and apart. Of course, the most famous example of syncretism in American culture is secular-Christmas, which begins some time around Halloween, and is over when people “have Christmas” (code for opening presents) whenever they feel like it but usually around mid-December. My goodness, just look at that, I still have strong feelings about this apparently.

Well, my husband was a cradle Episcopalian and I was raised by stern Methodists, so for the 42 years of our relationship we have kept Christmas pretty much according to the church calendar. We will get a tree some time in the next week, but we decorate it pretty slowly, usually getting done just as Christmas Eve approaches. When we still lived in Philadelphia I never put lights on the front of the house until 4 Advent! For us, the season really begins with “Once in Royal David’s City” sung at Midnight Mass (which usually is now around 8pm). Of course, we keep the season running full tilt through Epiphany. A solid two weeks of light and music and special food—not to mention, in Philadelphia, mummers.

When we took up our interlude in Wisconsin I learned the hard way that if I wanted help with lighting up the exterior I had to get it done before the first snowfall. One shot at mucking around in two feet of show was all it took to learn that lesson.

This is our second winter in Oregon. As far as the lights go, I’ve given in completely. We got them up last week and they gloriously light up the night. I can see from the kitchen windows that more of our neighbors have (as have we) put lights in the rear of their homes. It makes cooking even more delightful! I have to say, the lights around us are brilliant this year. I observed last year how the neighborhood suddenly lit up after Thanksgiving, essentially a way of dealing with the rainy season in the Pacific Northwest I guess. This year I have seen several notices in various local online services and newsletters that we should go all out with decorating, especially exterior lighting, because it helps all of us with the isolation of the pandemic. I agree, and I am grateful to my neighbors for the glory of their luminescent company visible from our windows.

We are, ultimately, people of hope. The lights are a glimmer of hope. And, in a way, all of us who engage in lighting up the night are serving as prophets in this time—we are showing our hope, strengthening the love it symbolizes, deepening our commitment to each other, which is the very bedrock of faith.

Prophets (Advent police notwithstanding) “prepare the way of the Lord,” usually in simple ways, most often just by example. Some years ago a church colleague used to say of all of the LGBTQ people who came to church every Sunday, that they were prophetic just by sitting in the pews and being visible. Our visibility, the light we bring together with our love, is a sign of the power of God, the gentle nurture that is at once the product of our faith and the promise of the very presence of the kingdom.

Isaiah (40:11) reminds us that God “will feed the flock like a shepherd.” Psalm 85 (10) reminds us that “mercy and truth have met together, righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” Peter (2 Peter 3:13) reminds us that “we wait for a new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.”

Peter begins this passage (2 Peter 3:8) with: “Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.” It is a reminder (and a parallel to Einstein’s reminder that time is an illusion) that for God a moment is the eternity and the eternity is present in every moment. Notice the psalm is past-tense “righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” When we say that we wait for God to bring justice and love, we mean that we wait to be able to see that justice and love are already present but only when we are able to live into both fully.

We must remember, especially as nature reminds us with the approach of winter, that this pandemic is not forever but that God’s love is forever. We must answer God’s call to be prophets of love, visibly luminescent in the love we share. That is how to spend Advent, building up love.

2 Advent Year B 2020 RCL (Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13 Benedixisti, Domine; 2 Peter 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.