Alive in the Covenant of God’s Love

The Great Litany [Book of Common Prayer 148] begins:

O God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth,
Have mercy upon us.
O God the Son, Redeemer of the world,
Have mercy upon us.
O God the Holy Ghost, Sanctifier of the faithful,
Have mercy upon us.
O holy, blessed, and glorious Trinity, one God,
Have mercy upon us.

Remember not, Lord Christ, our offenses, nor the offenses of our forefathers; neither reward us according to our sins.
Spare us, good Lord, spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed with thy most precious blood, and by thy mercy preserve us, for ever.
Spare us, good Lord.

And, the collect for the First Sunday in Lent asks God to “Come quickly to help us who are assaulted by many temptations” [Book of Common Prayer 218].

Remember that old phrase “the quick and the dead”? Did you know the word “quick” doesn’t mean “hurry up”? It means, “alive” (OED: “living, endowed with life, animate). So, then, for what do we pray when we pray for God to “come quickly” to help us? We pray for God to continue to fulfill the lives God created for us to live. We are asking God to stand by us, to be our fortress in every storm. Because we know in our souls that we are created in God’s image, and that we are endowed with God’s love, and that all we need is to be “quick”—to be alive.

In the story of Noah’s ark and the rainbow covenant [Genesis 9:8-17], we see a reflection of our creation in God’s image as the story presents an almost human-like God interacting with Noah and with the creatures of all creation. God announces God’s covenant four times, over and over. But, that doesn’t distract from the promise God made, to set a bow in the clouds, that would be forever a reminder that all of creation is united in love.

This week we saw evidence of that: “Greece Legalizes Same-Sex Marriage in a First for an Orthodox Christian Country” (CNN, Elinda Labropoulu, Feb. 15. 2024).

Greece is alive, LGBTQ+ people in Greece are “quick,” the rainbow—the sign of God’s covenant—blesses creation.

Psalm 25[3-9] has us sing the truth that love is love, God is love, we who are created in God’s image, are love. Compassion, everlasting, faithfulness, all have to do with love. And this love is love in action, the love that creates, the love that saves, the love that rescues, the love that sustains.

Peter explains [1 Peter 3:18-22] that indeed, “God waited patiently in the days of Noah.” God gave us baptism, a washing clean from sin, in clear running water of the Holy Spirit, as a sign of the covenant God made with Noah’s people and the creatures of the ark, that forever more God would sustain creation. Jesus, God incarnate, had to be baptized to show us how to remain forever humble in creation.

Mark’s Gospel [1:9-13] continues, or if you prefer, begins, the narrative of God’s saving action in creation through the ministry of Jesus, which begins with his baptism by John in the Jordan river. God’s Spirit in one fell swoop announces Jesus’ divinity and then drives him out into “the wilderness” of temptation.

Of course, temptation is all around us. We tend to read this story and try to imagine what might have tempted Jesus (and in other Gospel narratives examples are supplied) but the primary temptation in creation is the urge to avoid love. We are tempted not to walk in love, because it is easier to go with the flow, it is easier to think only of our own interior needs and not to blind ourselves to the beauty of the “quick,” the alive, the glory, the evidence of God’s covenant visible when we walk in love.

The story also tells us that while Jesus was in the wilderness “the angels waited on him” and indeed, angels do wait upon us, even in our own self-imposed wilderness.

In Little Richard: King and Queen of Rock and Roll [PBS American Masters 6/2/2023] we meet one of the angels that accompanied Little Richard—Sir Lady Java, a trans activist, singer, and angel who befriended Little Richard for decades. Sir Lady Java’s insightfully holy comment in is: “Being yourself is the hardest thing to be.” All of us who are God’s LGBTQ+ children know this all too well. Indeed, we know the temptation all to well. But I bet we know who our angels are, too.

Jesus returns from his time in the wilderness “quick” alive “proclaiming the good news” and “saying “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near.”

All we have to do to see it is to walk in love into the dimension where we all are alive in the covenant of God’s love.

First Sunday in Lent Year B 20242 RCL (Genesis 9:8-17; Psalm 25:1-9 Ad te, Domine, levavi; 1 Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15)

©2024 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Glorious Grace Bestowed

It has been very cold in Oregon. The other day I found myself thinking I was getting tired of being cold. “If I wanted to be this cold I could have stayed in Wisconsin!” I thought over and over. Mercifully, the Christmastide snow was light and beautiful and gone by the time morning coffee had been consumed each day, and now it is warmer again. Soon we shall be back to full-time rain, which is what winter in the Pacific Northwest is supposed to be like. I’m grateful for all of it, but especially for the sheer normality of it. It seems to me there is grace in the balance and harmony of creation. I feel comforted by it, I feel nourished by it. It is a reminder that all of creation is the issue of God’s love, in harmony, in concentric spheres as nature and humankind and cosmic forces all overlap, building in love, bringing grace and harmony and nourishment.

Out in the “real” world, another COVID surge advances by the moment, and wildfire in Colorado and tornados in Kentucky remind us the climate is changing again, by the moment. The new year ushers in hope, as always. We eat our black-eyed peas and collard greens and cornbread, we share our love, we embrace the love we share in the surprisingly intimate moments of appreciating the gifts given and received in the name of the Christ child. I am made warm by my husband’s comfort in the new shirts I gave him, and his in the pride in the new kitchen tools he gave me, not to mention a new duvet cover—all gifts that comfort and nourish and build up love in concentric spheres.

In the LGBTQ world, trans-Jeopardy! champion Amy Schneider continues to win, breaking all-time records including now the highest-winning woman in show history. As celebrated as she has become in the daily game-show news, it’s also no surprise that there is starting to be some trans-phobia in the coverage. We all know what it’s like when LGBTQ people reach for the winner’s circle. Still, there is much grace in the notion that this time the witness is to millions of viewers across the US from all walks of life. I had a bishop once who kept reminding the LGBTQ parishioners that the greatest thing we did was to show up in church and be visible, a witness to the love we share with all who are heirs of God’s love. So each time I see Amy’s brilliant joyful smile and watch the skill with which she wins I am reminded that this is a perfect example of those concentric spheres of love I’ve been writing about.

The climactic scripture this week is the story from Matthew’s Gospel (2:13-15, 19-23) of Joseph and Mary’s flight in the middle of the night with the infant Jesus, and their eventual return to the district of Galilee. What strikes me on this reading is how the action is propelled repeatedly by the voice of an angel appearing to Joseph in dreams. It happens three times! It is a revelation of the force of love’s voice working through the human experience to see that the concentric spheres of love not only are preserved but are built up continuously.

It is in this eternal triumph of love that humanity serves best as interlocking keystone of the glorious grace bestowed, it is here that life becomes like a watered garden. It is in this that the eyes of our hearts are enlightened, by love.

2 Christmas All Years RCL 2022 (Jeremiah 31:7-14; Psalm 84:1-8; Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a; Matthew 2:13-15,19-23)

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

Angels with Orange Wands

We are at a midpoint in Lent … how is that going for you? Before I was ordained I used to tie myself in knots trying to explain to friends how the process of Lenten fasting worked. Chiefly, I tried to say, the idea is to give up something you will miss so that you will be reminded to think of it each day. Also, of course, is the notion that it should not be something that you ought to give up anyway. The point is to be mindful of the idea of repentance, which means to turn away from those things that disconnect us and toward the one thing that always does connect us, which is sharing God’s love.

The question takes on new meaning in a pandemic. Last year we had just begun our lockdowns, mostly, when Lent suddenly was upon us. We were still giving up everything it seemed, more and more each day. Frankly I gave myself a pass last year because it was just too much to bear. Now we are in the official second year of the pandemic. Isolation and safe behavior have become (I hope) a new norm for most people. We have coped, mostly virtually, with the things we had to forgo in order to live. Still, it is scary enough all by itself.

So this year the question is not what have you given up, but rather, what else have you given up? Haven’t we all given up enough yet?

My husband and I were vaccinated yesterday. Through what can only be described as grace we received a link by email from a dear friend and because we caught it at the right moment we had about 10 minutes in which to make appointments, and we did. It was important to us to go to a drive-up where we would not have to walk a long distance or be indoors. In the metropolitan Portland area that meant the clinic in short-term parking at the Portland airport. We were grateful to get the appointments and relieved a few seconds after booking them to receive QR-codes by email, magically linked to our health-care provider accounts as well.

While we waited the 10 days for our appointment date to come around we read in the newspaper about how people on one occasion waited in line for 5 hours; but in the meantime the process had been worked out well. We were there less than 45 minutes altogether. And the people who shepherded us through were truly angels. We were blessed many times over. They even rang a bell as we drove away; two more vaccinated. Hallelujah!

The true bread which gives life to the world is that bread which feeds the soul; and that is love. When we refuse love we suffer the anguish of our own dark nights. When we give love we receive more love and that builds up ever more love. Thus when we give thanks we give love and we build love. Yesterday as we drove from post to post, angels directed us with bright orange tarmac wands. At each curve, at each new line-up, at each new staging area we were greeted with eye-smiles, thumbs-up, waves, and we were pulled along as though on angel wings by the light from those orange wands. And as, at each point, we called “thanks” and waved back, we could feel the love building in our hearts.

The epistle to the Ephesians (2:1-10) reminds us that when we can understand that the desire of our selfishness is the manifestation of the absence of love we can escape that vacuum. And when we learn, we are no longer “dead through our trepasses” but rather alive in love, with love, through love. Even the simple gift of a wave and a “thanks” is enough of a Lenten fast to bring us to repentance. (8): “For by grace, you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God.”

In John’s Gospel (3:14-21) Jesus tells Nicodemus (and, of course, us) that “the light has come into the world.” The light of which Jesus speaks, of course, is love. Love is freedom. Love is fulfillment. Love is responsibility because love comes only when it is given. “Those who do what is true, come to the light.”

This Lent, try this approach to your Lenten fast: look for the angels around you who are pointing you to the light of love.

4 Lent Year B RCL 2021 (Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

A Pillar of Forgiveness

We are living in a time rich with metaphor; my friends have no end of designators for the year we are all living through. I’ll spare you the specifics but let’s  just say it sure is a challenging time. A week ago we were living in a richly beautiful forested environment. Then we had two days of outrageous winds, accompanied by power outages. But at least we had brilliantly starry skies those nights. But the day after the wind died down we awoke to yellow skies, then yellow and black then thick smoke. We haven’t seen the sun or anything very far in front of us for days now. The wildfires ravaging forested Oregon have had an amazing impact on the whole of society (see for example https://www.statesmanjournal.com/story/news/2020/09/11/oregon-fires-riverside-beachie-creek-clackamas-county-estacada-molalla-colton/3472415001/ ). We are essentially “locked down” again; businesses that were slowly reopening are closed now so employees can stay safely home. We are encouraged not to drive, so as to keep roads clear for firefighters, emergency vehicles and (of course) thousands who are having to evacuate their homes. Curfews are in place at night. Our emotional state is pinned to a fire evacuation map, with its moving targets of “be-ready,” “be-set” and “go” zones.

Parks are closed to prevent accidental incineration. We aren’t to water the lawn or the garden so as to preserve water supplies for firefighting. Our COVID-19 masks turn out to be somewhat useful for filtering the smoke too—perhaps this is nature’s way of getting people to mask-up the better to control the pandemic. What an unsettling thought!

Our hearts go out to each other as yet once again in a year of constant wrenching shifts, everything shifts yet again. We retreat into our faith as best we can where we have one constant—God, who is love, who is centered in the heart. We pray that God’s love will protect us and preserve creation. We pray that God’s love will be shown, is being shown, to everyone around us—the firefighters on the front lines, many of whom have had to evacuate their own homes; the evacuees everywhere; people with underlying conditions that make the smoke content in the air a danger; and most of all, those of us who are frightened. We pray that God, who is love, will fill our centered hearts, the better for us to love in every direction in every moment. Love is always the answer, even in this time of more trial.

The Old Testament reading from Exodus today (Exodus 14:19-31) is the story of the parting of the Red Sea, the famous incident when Moses led the Israelites out of captivity in Egypt. They safely walked across the sea while God’s power and an “army of angels” held the water aside. They escaped oppression but arrived safely on the other shore to take up wandering in a wilderness. It is an amazing story, filled for sure with metaphors that fuel entire systems of faith.

I know from my own experience that LGBTQ people of faith often turn to this tale to help understand our own coming-out journeys. The parallels are unmistakable—the captivity of the closet, the oppression of self, the dispiriting loneliness of exile, the longing for belonging, the moment of truth, even the arrival of God’s army of angels lighting up the dark nights of the soul, the passage into the full embrace of LGBTQ life as God-given, all followed by wandering in the spiritual and emotional wilderness en route to new life. And yet as we all know, the metaphor extends grace and peace and especially hope, as we begin to discover the full possibility of lives of love lived in God’s love shared among God’s people created as LGBTQ in God’s own image. The meaning of the revelation is inescapable—God and God’s army of angels and God’s love all are ours when we embrace living and walking in love.

Curiously, I find myself drawn to a single clause that might otherwise go unnoticed Exodus 14:19-20): “the pillar of cloud moved from in front of them and took its place behind them … and so the cloud was there with the darkness, and it lit up the night.” Of course, we can understand this metaphorically as descriptive of the time in which we live—everything from COVID-19 to racial reconciliation to political divisiveness to the wildfires—all are like the dark of night, and certainly in all we discern God’s army of angels–the firefighters on the front lines, many of whom have had to evacuate their own homes; the evacuees everywhere; people with underlying conditions for whom the smoke content in the air is a danger; and most of all, those of us who are frightened—everywhere we look we see God’s angels, and the love in their hearts does light up the night. After all, the cloud, which is God, and God’s army of angels, who are certainly among us, do indeed light up our lives. God’s love is in the immensity that lights up not just these nights but all nights of the soul.

Well, pillars and clouds aren’t the only metaphors in this week’s scripture. Psalm 114:7 “Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord.” The power of love is such that the presence of God causes quaking. In Romans (14:1-12) Paul reminds us that “We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves … we are the Lord’s.” We do not live for ourselves; our lives are part of creation, we are part of the power of love. Our lives are intended to be full of the love of God, and it is our destiny to spread God’s love among us and through all of creation. It is important for we how are LGBTQ folk to remember that our lives are an important part of creation, instruments of love. Not only do we belong to God, we are part of God’s army of angels.

Matthew’s Gospel today is about forgiveness (Matthew 18:21-35). Forgiveness is the ultimate act of giving love after all, because it must come from your heart. God, who is love, is centered in the heart. True forgiveness is like the rain we all are praying for; it bears no price, its function is to clear the way for love to proceed in every direction from heart to heart, from God to God’s army of angels, holding back the sea, shining in the darkness, trembling at the immanence of God, making space for love. Even in a time of wrenching shifts, even in a time of fire, especially in a time of reconciliation.

We must forgive … the fire, the virus, the separation, the oppression, the exile, the loneliness, the fear … we must forgive all of it for the love to flow in and from and through us again. Indeed, that pillar of cloud born by God’s army of angels who open the way to love, is a pillar of forgiveness. We must forgive if we are to continue to receive God, who is love, who is always centered in our hearts.

 

Proper 19 Year A 2020 RCL (Exodus 14:19-31; Psalm 114; Romans 14:1-12; Matthew 18:21-35)

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

Do Not Fear Love

It was chilly last night … I had to get up and turn up the heat for the first time in months. Just one of those wonders of the Pacific Northwest. Now at midday the sun is shining brightly and we’re on our way to another late summer afternoon with temperatures around 80° F (27° C); indeed, the coming week will see us back in mid-90° F (32° C) territory. Life here is beautiful always. This is one of the reasons I feel so blessed to have been called to return to Oregon after a many-decades absence. It is really a blessing to be again in the grace of the Douglas Firs and the mountains and rivers and big blue sky and amazingly starry nights. I was able to watch the Pleiades meteor shower just by wandering out in the back yard at night and looking up. Whoosh they were streaking across the sky just for me, like my own movie direct from creation central. It is love that creates this beauty. God’s love, which is the love we all share not only with each other but with the universe provides the theater in which our lives create the play. The very essence of God is love, and even the name of God is love. We are put here as the products of love in order that we might embrace the love that nourishes us and brings forth more love as brilliantly as the Oregon sunshine.

The scripture today is all about perceiving love in the magic of our own realities, about recognizing love when we perceive it, and about giving love in return, which is the life to which God has called us all. In Exodus (3:1-15) we have the amazing story of Moses and the burning bush. We are told that an angel appears in “flame of fire out of a bush … the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed.” It is a powerful image of course, but even more powerful is the realization that the angel Moses perceived is really God in all the pure power of love blazing as in our hearts, and yet in the blaze nourishing and protecting and not consuming. Nourishing protection that does not consume is pretty much the very definition of love, isn’t it? Moses and God exchange a little word play about the name of God. God famously says “I AM Who I AM.” What does it mean to say “I am”? It means to define your own very essence. God is love, therefore because the essence of God is love, the name of God also is love.

Angels (both in scripture and in real life) are the manifestation of God’s presence; they appear suddenly and unexpectedly but often in mundane circumstances to let us know that God is with us. In the recognition that we are in the presence of an angel we shift dimensions so as to see that we are actually aware of the eternal presence of God. The presence of God is made known to us in love that nourishes and does not consume, which is timeless and which is ours to return.  The dimension of love is a wonderful place in space-time where nourishment and nurture are the only continuum. All God asks of us is that we give thanks and give love.

In Romans (12:9-21) Paul reminds us of our responsibilities as children born of love. He says “let love be genuine” and reminds us that this means “hold fast to what is good … love one another with mutual affection … outdo one another in showing honor … rejoice in hope … persevere in prayer.” Remember always that love goes out from you; whatever you feel is the love you give so let your love be as genuine as honor, affection and perseverant hope. And in all things seek to overcome the absence of love by filling the space with love.

In Matthew’s Gospel (16:21-27) we have the famous interchange between Jesus and Peter in which Jesus says “get behind me Satan.” The beloved disciple Petros, Jesus’ rock, now called a stumbling block for embracing the opposite of love in his denial of the truth told by Jesus, who is the human manifestation of God (Emmanuel “God with us”), who is love. The figure of “Satan” in scripture is a manifestation of the opposite of love, the obstruction of love. It is the chasm that can arise within when we step back from our responsibilities as children of love, when we fail to recognize the angels in our midst who are pointing us to the presence of God who is love. Of course such a chasm is a stumbling block. The chasm is bridged and then redeemed by filling the space with love. Jesus famously reminds the disciples that to embrace love is to give up the life of self for a better life full of love.

The message is that we must not fear love. We especially as LGBT people, whose very identity is love given by God, in whose image we are created, we especially are made of love, we are made to love, we are called to love. Do not fear love, love will reveal the presence of angels, which will help you move into the dimension of nourishment and nurture—the dimension of love.

 

Proper 17 Year A 2020 RCL (Exodus 3: 1-15; Psalm 105: 1-6, 23-26, 45c Confitemini Domino; Romans 12: 9-21; Matthew 16: 21-28)

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

Lower than the angels*

Jesus is the master of the metaphor: “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” he says, in Mark 10: 15. Last week I wrote about the idea of “child” in these synoptic Gospels, reminding readers that for Jesus, children were not the precious innocent things of our time, but rather were thought of more like vermin. Children were often competitors for food and shelter and water. They were outcasts, unless they had been fortunate enough to have been born to parents of royal cast. So, it is easy enough, if you really understand the scripture, to see today’s lgbt population as “little children” in Jesus’ metaphor. Outcasts, competitors of the majority, and Jesus is saying “unless you can see God’s reality in the way they see it, you cannot see God’s reality.”

Fascinating. Because it means we, the lgbt children of God, are those who see God’s reality most clearly. Now, I know that is true, just because I know I love my husband with all of my being. That’s enough evidence for me. What about you? The love you experience is your view of God’s reality in the life into which God has called you.

Today is Philadephia’s OutFest, a huge lgbt street fair. And since 1997 I have had a booth at it on behalf of the Episcopal church in the region; since 2010 we have had a booth on behalf of our own parish church. I love the sweep of people as the lgbt community flows past the table, picking out brochures and asking questions. I love the reality of the ministry right there on the street in the community. I love watching the crowd and being reminded of how God sees God’s reality among living, loving, lgbt people.

The letter to the Hebrews, which is appointed scripture this week, has a great metaphor in it as well, about how Jesus, being made human, was forced to be (for awhile) lower than the angels. And, we, because of that, were allowed to rise up to that place where, with Jesus, we also were just lower than the angels. This, of course, is the place where true happiness and godliness are known in our souls. This is what it means to be fully gay as God has made us. It is where we dance with these angels who protect us on our march toward freedom and fulfillment as children of God.

We probably will be rained out today at the OutFest. But even if that happens, the truth remains. It is that huge swath of reality, of real lgbt people who got up this morning with their kids, their divorces, their court orders, their relationship issues, and their dogs, and came down to the Gayborhood looking for a little bit of life, a little bit of community, a little bit of the healing of being accepted.

And that is what Jesus offers.

So rain or shine, whether we take our booth to sit in the rain or decide to pass this year, either way, the truth is visible in that parade of lgbt humanity that shows us the true exodus of God’s chosen people en route to the land of milk and honey.

Right, honey?

*Proper 22 (Job 1:1; 2:1-10: Psalm 26; Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16) ©2012The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Almost there*

“Almost there” is how I feel. Christmas is almost here, not quite, but almost. Someone asked me about a week ago whether I was all ready for Christmas. I just said “well, I’ve done everything I was supposed to do, now I can do what I want to do.” And that is how I feel now. Presents are in the house, if not yet wrapped. Cards and stamps are ready, that will be an evening’s work. The house is lighted, the tree is decorated, and now I can get focused on real Christmas.

This is the sense in this week’s lessons too. Our collect asks God to “purify our conscience” so we can be ready to receive Jesus when he really does finally come into our lives. The wonderful lesson from 2 Samuel (7:1-11, 16) about who gets a house of cedar and when is just delightful. This is exactly how I fell all the time. I am ready to build a real house, a permanent house, a house in which God will dwell with me. When can I do that? God says “go for it, in fact I will build such a house for you” and you will be established forever. Wow, from a prayer about God coming into our conscience to a lesson about God building a permanent place to dwell with us, there is a continuum, a highway as it were, a path made straight, for us and for God. And it is almost here; we are almost there.

We hear this lesson from Luke’s Gospel every year at this time, as though the nine months of Mary’s pregnancy could go by in a liturgical week, as indeed they will yet again this year. What do we hear in this lesson? We hear about Mary of course, and we hear about how God’s angels speak to us. And we hear about how humility before God is the way to erase sin.

But what else? We hear “almost there.” We hear the promise of the angels, that God will come among us as a human child. Almost there, we hear, God is almost among you. We hear that the angel says that nothing is impossible with God. Almost there, we hear, God is almost among us. And we hear that we should not be afraid. Almost there, God is almost among us.

Now look at Paul’s letter to the Romans (16:25-27). “Now to God, who is able to strengthen you … according to the revelation … [that] now is disclosed … to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever. Amen.”

(You do know that “amen” means “so be it,” which is why when a priest says a prayer, you are supposed to shout out “amen” – “so be it” at the end?)

So be it. Almost there. So be it. Almost there.

See? It is a journey. God is always with us. God is always coming among us. God is always going to be coming among us. This action is constant, eternal. We must meet it with a sober “amen,” “so be it.” We must meet it with humilty “here am I, let it be according to your word.” We must learn to be open to the messages angels bring to us “Fear not” they always say.

Is there a message for gay people here? Of course. We are God’s angels on earth. We are the forefront of the angel troops, bringing the presence of purified conscience—consciousness with no restraints—not only before God, but for our brothers and sisters we bring this heightened consciousness to the whole of reality. We stand before God as people God has made in God’s own image to be lovers of one another, and a source of joy in the whole of creation. Almost there, already here …..

And there you have it, the true meaning of Christmas: almost there, already here ….

We have a week to go. This is the week to enjoy it. Sing the carols, light the candles, lift the glasses, wrap packages and send cards and plan the true feast, for the night when God will sit at our tables—Emmanuel, God with us.

Almost there ….

4 Advent (2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16; Canticle 15 The Song of Mary Magnificat; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38)
©2011 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Dreams

“In your dreams honey.”

It’s a common enough phrase, a hallmark of a cynical interaction. It means, “whatever it is you think is coming your way has no basis in reality.”

Curious isn’t it; because this Christmastide is the season of dreams. I know, I’m all grown up, and I’ve been through a lot in life. But still, at this time of year, I bop along thinking there is good reason to expect the best. And that expectation in the back of my mind turns to hope in my heart, and that turns to “Merry Christmas” on my lips. And I think that’s how this season is supposed to work.

So what about dreams? Dreams are real enough, even though what we dream often is not. The science of dreams is uncertain about many things, including where they come from and why they take the forms they do. But we do know that they are vital to our survival as humans. Dreams come during the deepest part of sleep, the part that heals the body and fortifies it for the next day. Likely, dreams come during the time when the body is completely in “reboot” mode—so the psyche takes a little reboot time too.

But what about this business of expectations? If we are really grown up people—especially if we are grown-up gay and lesbian people—we have a mixed bag of expectations at this time of year. We look forward to sweet moments with our loved ones. We dread those interactions with family where our sexuality might (will) be challenged. But still we hope, still we dream, that there might be acceptance, that there might be more than acceptance, that there might be actual affirming love, in those interactions.

If you want to have a look at the scripture appointed for today, go ahead and do that; you can find it at the Lectionary Page. You will see a reading from Isaiah, in which God cannot get Ahaz to believe. And finally God says “okay, I’m sending you a sign anyway.” And the sign? A young woman will bear a son and name him Immanuel, which means “God is with us.”  In the letter to the Romans, Paul asserts boldly the facts as he knows them in his soul—Jesus was promised, delivered, and exists in flesh and Spirit as the Son of God and the Lord Christ. If ever a dream was fulfilled, that was it. And in the Gospel, Matthew recounts the story of how the angel came to Joseph in a dream, and told him Mary was with child from the Holy Spirit.

Well, we don’t know what Joseph was thinking. We don’t know what this dream looked like or felt like. But we do know that this was the sign God had promised, that a young woman would bear the Son of God, who was, and is, Jesus—Immanuel—God with us.

And by all of this we know that God is with us, now and always. And that is the promise, the expectation, of this season. Presents? Good cheer? Light in the darkness? Yes, of course—that’s the promise God’s creation brings to us in this season. But the real promise is the promise of a lifetime of love—being loved, being created in love, being created to love. That is why God has put us here. That is what God expects of us. That is what we can expect of God.

Okay so have a look at today’s prayer (the “collect”—that’s an old word from English worship meaning literally a prayer that “collects” the spirit of the congregation together). It says we should clean house, so when Jesus comes he will find a mansion within each of our souls. I’d say it means be true to whom God has made you to be, clean out the cobwebs, let Christmastide open your heart and your soul to the promise of being made constantly new. Get ready my friends to let Jesus in.

© 2010 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Fourth Sunday in Advent Year A 2010 (Isaiah 7:10-16, Psalm 80: 1-7, 16-18, Romans 1:1-7, Matthew 1:18-25)