And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. (Luke 2:7)
This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. (Luke 23:52-53)
* * *
Took.
Laid.
Wrapped.
Alone.
This is Luke’s artistry, showing us through deft literary parallelism that the end of Jesus’ life was like its beginning, and that his birth foreshadowed his death.
Prayer of the Day Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come. With your abundant grace and might, free us from the sin that binds us, that we may receive you in joy and serve you always, for you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
* * *
Blessed Is She Who Believed (Luke 1:49-55)
A Meditation on Mary
Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
– Luke 1:42
O Mary, you are blessed. You have a gracious God. No woman has ever lived on earth to whom God has shown such grace. You are the crown among them all.
– Martin Luther
We honor Mary because God honored her.
We honor Mary because good children honor their parents, and Jesus, Mary’s Child, honored and respected his Mother. How can we, who are children of God by faith in Jesus, do less? Who can plumb the depths of feeling in a child’s heart for a dear mother? With all affection, we, the adopted daughters and sons of God, gaze at the Mother of our Lord and call her blessed.
We honor Mary, for through her God brought an end to the bitterness of his people.
The Hebrew form of her name is “Miriam,” which means “bitter myrrh.” Does her name reflect her family’s circumstances or those surrounding her own birth? Or does it reflect the bitter exile of her people, their bondage under foreign domination, the dashed hopes of God’s Kingdom long awaited and nowhere in sight? Is her name evidence of her family’s faith, a lament crying out to God for his gracious intervention?
O blessed Mary, who brought joy to all people, we honor you for enduring the bitter pain of birth. You who represent the exiled people of Israel, we bless you, who found no room among human company in which to bear your holy Child.
It is likely that Mary was a young woman, perhaps thirteen to fifteen years old. Engaged to be married, she found herself to be with child. How difficult for us to grasp the shame and fear this must have caused her! The embarrassment to her family! Did she hide away? Did she shed tears when the neighbors talked? How comforting the kind gentleness of Joseph must have been to her!
We honor you, Mary, for enduring disgrace that we might know the freedom of forgiveness.
She was a humble maiden from a small town. Can anything good come from Nazareth? Few would have expected she would ever achieve recognition or honor. God did not choose a daughter of wealth and privilege with promising prospects, but a lowly girl from a rustic village. And so his grace is magnified in Mary.
Blessings and laud to you, dear Mary. Beyond all expectation, God has lifted you up. Surely he has looked with favor on your lowliness! Surely, all generations will call you blessed! Surely in mercy he has set aside the powerful and rich in favor of the poor and needy. You represent all who have nothing to offer, who can only receive, who must be fed or go hungry.
Mary received a word from God that was incredible — she, a virgin girl, would bear a Son. With trembling heart she heard the angel’s message. In faith, she received that word: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” And thus we learn that our Mother is a person of faith, and at her knee we learn to trust God’s promises.
We honor and bless you Mary, for leading us to salvation by grace through faith. We will enter heaven by trusting in the Child you bore. You have brought us the greatest gift of all, the treasure that all loving mothers give to their children — the gift of Life.
Blessed are you: Mother of our Lord, greatest of the Mothers of Israel, Mother of all who believe. Your children bless you!
We have a new grandchild in the Mercer clan this Christmas. Her name is Roxy, and she belongs to my son. Funny thing is, she already has a pretty strong bite! My son brought the little one over for a photo session earlier today, and here are a few shots.
Well what do you know? The world didn’t end after all. As a matter of fact, here in Oklahoma we didn’t even get any rain. So we live to flip the Mayan calendar over to a new day. The doomsday predictors did leave quite a mess behind them. Just watch how many people rush to the malls today to begin their Christmas shopping they thought they wouldn’t have to do. Well, watch them from afar. Right now, we need to gather ourselves together and ramble.
Yep, the Mayans blew it. I mean, we all believed them, right? Well, ok, some kooks at NASA didn’t believe them, but hey! They still insist that men landed on the moon.
“Not believing” is gaining a lot of steam these days. Seems the “Nones“—those who claim no religious affiliation—are the third-largest religious group in the world. They must be official. They even have their own holiday, something called HumanLight. Anyone have a favorite HumanLight carol they’d like to sing?
Christianity Today released their list of the top albums of 2012. There are some glaring omissions (where are the Beach Boys? Joe Walsh? The Head and the Heart?), but I do like their choice for number four. What albums would you have on this list?
For years now, a favorite book in my library has been an old worn copy of The Poetical Works of Christina Georgina Rossetti, published in 1904. A brief note in fountain pen ink inside the cover says that it was given as a Christmas gift in 1908, and a sticker in the back identifies the vendor as a bookshop in Belfast.
Christina Rossetti (1830-1894), was one of the most important women poets in Victorian England. A devout evangelical Anglican, she spurned one offer of marriage because her suitor converted to Roman Catholicism, and another because she “enquired into his creed and found he was not a Christian.” She never married or left home.
Her father was Italian and her mother English. Her godmother was Napoleon’s niece. Though she had wide exposure to a variety of people and cultures, her family was relatively poor and she spent most of her life involved in activities at home, with parents and siblings. In the memoir included in the book, her brother wrote, “…the life of Christina Rossetti presents hardly any incident.”
Christina was a scrupulous adherent of her faith. It is said she gave up playing chess because she found she enjoyed winning too much! Though she mixed with many prominent authors and artists in her day, she did not uniformly approve of their works. She pasted strips of paper over certain passages in Swinburne’s Atalanta in Calydon because she considered them anti-religious and offensive, and after doing so, she found herself able to enjoy the poem. After the death of her beloved brother Dante Gabriel, Rossetti became a recluse and stayed home, concentrating on her own religious life. Her older sister Maria, likewise observant, became an Anglican nun.
Christmas itself is by grace. It could never have survived our own blindness and depredations otherwise. It could never have happened otherwise. Perhaps it is the very wildness and strangeness of the grace that has led us to try to tame it. We have tried to make it habitable. We have roofed it and furnished it. We have reduced it to an occasion we feel at home with, at best a touching and beautiful occasion, at worst a trite and cloying one. But if the Christmas event in itself is indeed—as a matter of cold, hard fact—all its cracked up to be, then even at best our efforts are misleading.
The Word became flesh. Ultimate Mystery born with a skull you could crush one-handed. Incarnation. It is not tame. It is not beautiful. It is uninhabitable terror. It is unthinkable darkness riven with unbearable light. Agonized laboring led to it, vast upheavals of intergalactic space, time split apart, a wrenching and tearing of the very sinews of reality itself. You can only cover your eyes and shudder before it, before this: “God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God… who for us and for our salvation,” as the Nicene Creed puts it, “came down from heaven.”
Came down. Only then do we dare uncover our eyes and see what we can see. It is the Resurrection and the Life she holds in her arms. It is the bitterness of death he takes at her breast. Frederick Buechner
He was created of a mother whom He created. He was carried by hands that He formed. He cried in the manger in wordless infancy. He, the Word, without whom all human eloquence is mute.Augustine
In my studies I am reading Ola Tjørhom, who represents what has been called “evangelical catholicism.” He is concerned that the Reformation project went seriously wrong, and one of its greatest failings was its lack of recognition that the ecclesiology of the Reformers remained essentially catholic even while they criticized Rome in terms of doctrines and practices. Luther was not an anti-Catholic rebel. Rather, he saw himself and those who embraced Reformation teachings, as better Catholics than those leading the church in that day!
Tjørhom has a great concern for ecumenism, because, he asserts, unity is a fundamental characteristic of the church’s nature. However, this is not merely a “spiritual” unity but rather a visible unity. He writes:
“…[I] wish to emphasize the basic visibility of the Church and ecclesial life. On a critical level, I would argue that ‘liberal-pietism’ and Protestant Lutheranism have ended up with a perception of the Church as a vague idea or an abstract identity that neither is nor has a body. In a more constructive perspective, my main concern is to make it clear that the church and its unity are just as empirically recognizable as the external word and the concrete sacraments that constitute it, and at the same time make it clear that there is a ‘physical’ character or anchoring of our life in Christ that follows from this visibility.”
He calls his perspective: “the gospel of the empirical perceptibility of grace.” His point is that spirituality, whether personal or corporate, is not “spiritual” as we normally think of it, but physical and palpable.
Today I simply want to list the central features he sees in this “materialist” spirituality and piety that he commends.
It originates in a place: the Church. Though the Church is not the source of our salvation and spirituality, it is the context for them.
It has a language of its own: liturgy. Liturgy is what God’s people do, bodily, when we worship. It is what we do together. It is the drama of redemption re-enacted as God speaks and gives to us and we respond to him and receive from him.
It is sacramentally based, with the external and visible means of grace as its backbone. The Holy Spirit mediates the presence of Christ through physical elements. In using the stuff of creation, he points to the ultimate restoration of all that God has made. This is crucial. We who cry out for mercy look not to our own deeds or feelings but receive gifts from outside ourselves through which Christ and his salvation comes to us.
It applies primarily to the life of God’s people as a whole first and then through that community to each individual. At best, Protestant pietism views the Church as a helpful aid to one’s personal and private devotion. At worst, the Church is a hindrance and stumbling-block. For many, spirituality is about mystory, and I choose whether or not I will connect my story to that of the Church. However, in this spirituality, I enter into something bigger and more fundamental than my own “personal relationship with God.”
It is not directed toward producing nice religious feelings or sentiments, but is expressed through what we do and the concrete signs that accompany life in Christ. It is anchored in the world and directed toward God and my fellow human beings. It is a life of faith — nurtured by God’s external word and sacraments. It is a life of love — set free in Christ to serve others.
It is firmly grounded in both creation and redemption — it is lived in God’s world and in mission to all God’s creatures with a goal not simply of “saving souls” but of renewing all creation. It looks both outward: toward the world it is called to serve, and forward: to the time of eschatological fulfillment.
Ola Tjørhom observes that contemporary “spirituality” is being embraced enthusiastically by many in the churches today, as well as in our culture. However, it is more in line with the gnosticism the Church has always opposed than it is with classic Christian practice and tradition. It is predominantly esoteric, consumerist, and privatized spirituality. In contrast, the spirituality he commends is simple and plain as water, bread, and wine, offered freely, and found in the community of faith formed within the story of redemption in Christ.
I would suggest that aesthetics have much to do with the answer to that question. Advent and Christmas are made sensible to us by means of the things we see, hear, smell, taste, and touch at this time of year.
Spiritual truth comes out of the closet of the abstract and makes itself real to us through our bodily experiences during the holidays.
God in heaven becomes incarnate in Bethlehem.
We shiver at the chill. And grow warm by the fire.
We smell the pungent dung of the stable. And fragrant bows from the pine.
The song of the angels fills our ears. And the voices of children.
Our gaze is transfixed upon a newborn Baby.
We relish the special feasts we share with one another, as the Baby suckles his Mother’s breast.
Gifts are exchanged, hand to hand, paper ripped open and flung aside amid squeals of delight and smiles, tears, hugs, acknowledged later with handwritten thank-you notes.
It is not simply the Christmas “spirit” but the lived experiences of Christmas that we treasure.
All of our traditions and practices, the idiosyncratic celebrations of our families, and the special events in our churches and schools and communities take place in space and time in the lives of boys and girls and men and women of flesh and blood who hold up their candles in the darkness and await the moment when “the dawn from on high will break upon us.”
Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day, Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him, whom angels fall before, The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; But His mother only, in her maiden bliss, Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
– Christina Rosetti
Hear this marvelous testimony from Eric Gill. Don’t get sidetracked and focus only on the specific path he chose (Catholicism), but hear the larger message he brings:
I became a Catholic because I fell in love with the truth. And love is an experience. I saw. I heard. I felt. I tasted. I touched. And that is what lovers do.
Oh, that we, in all our faith traditions, might learn this. There is no “spiritual” faith. What God has given us is bodies, by which we receive his gifts. The path leads from the outside in, and not vice versa. To reach our hearts, he took on flesh.
We instinctively know this at Christmas. My prayer is that we will know it in all the gracious seasons of life.
Note from CM: Michael Spencer gave this sermon in the third week of Advent, 2006. In the light of yesterday’s post on the collapse of evangelicalism, I thought it timely. Michael explores the arrogance of many of us who wear the name “Christian,” and considers some of the criticisms we’ve received from one who shows a measure of arrogance himself: Sam Harris. But one thing he finds interesting is that Harris and others like him seem to grasp the “outrage” of the Gospel better than we do. When we lack this, we instead tend to become outraged at those who reject our message, wondering how they could miss something so obvious and wonderful.
* * *
The Unlikely Outrage of the Gospel of Light
An Advent sermon by Michael Spencer
There is, in fact, no worldview more reprehensible in its arrogance than that of a religious believer: the creator of the universe takes an interest in me, approves of me, loves me, and will reward me after death; my current beliefs, drawn from scripture, will remain the best statement of the truth until the end of the world; everyone who disagrees with me will spend an eternity in hell. An average Christian, in an average church, listening to an average Sunday sermon has achieved a level of arrogance simply unimaginable in scientific discourse — and there have been some extraordinarily arrogant scientists.
– Sam Harris, Letters To A Christian Nation
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.
– Isaiah 9:2
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. …And from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known.
– John 1:9-18
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me–practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.
– Philippians 4:4-9
* * *
Christians in America have a preference for people like themselves. In this, we’re not unlike most human beings, but that’s exactly the problem. Most 4th graders would be able to give the correct answer to the question “Who is my neighbor?” As obvious as the answer would be, most of us would still like to be surrounded with people from our tribe, culture, language group, income level and, of course, worldview.
Christians like to participate in the fantasy that ours is a Christian nation in what is becoming a Christian world. Muslims, atheists, occultists and others occupying the planet get the requisite dose of rhetoric saying we love our neighbors who are unlike us, but if we’re honest, especially about our evangelicalism, we’d have to admit a strong bias toward familiar surroundings and familiar people.
Those radically, fundamentally different from ourselves make us uneasy, as if we were somehow under attack from different cultures and beliefs. The sound of the culture war is the sound of Christians- largely- declaring that they are in some way at war with their neighbors. The rumblings of culture expansion and population shifts in Europe and the American southwest brings out a kind of paranoia in some Christians remarkably similar to what one might have heard from white South Africans in the waning days of apartheid.
“The party is almost over for evangelicals; a party that’s been going strong since the beginning of the “Protestant” 20th century. We are soon going to be living in a very secular and religiously antagonistic 21st century in a culture that will be between 25-30% non-religious.”
A 2011 Pew Forum poll in which 82% of evangelical ministers reported their sense of a growing loss of influence and a movement that is losing ground.
Evangelical polling organizations such as Lifeway and Barna that have found in their research that: “a majority of young people raised as evangelicals are quitting church, and often the faith, entirely.”
His own research project, which found that: “the structural supports of evangelicalism are quivering as a result of ground-shaking changes in American culture,” and that: “The more that evangelicals attempt to correct course, the more they splinter their movement.” His conclusion? “In coming years we will see the old evangelicalism whimper and wane.”
Dickerson observes that evangelicals are a shrinking minority in the U.S., and he cites the work of Christian Smith, whose findings show that Christians who identify as evangelicals make up only 7% of Americans.
The movement also faces a looming donation crisis.
The reputation of evangelicals is declining as they find it difficult to adapt to rapid changes in culture.
Though evangelicals have a relatively sophisticated network of communications and resources, their own machinery often gets in the way of their primary mission of making disciples and pointing others to Jesus Christ.
Dickerson concludes:
How can evangelicalism right itself? I don’t believe it can — at least, not back to the politically muscular force it was as recently as 2004, when white evangelicals gave President George W. Bush his narrow re-election. Evangelicals can, however, use the economic, social and spiritual crises facing America to refashion themselves into a more sensitive, spiritual and humble movement.
He suggests that much of the cultural backlash against evangelicalism is not directly so much toward their views as it is toward their posture of sitting as moral judges. Christians have forgotten that their faith started as a minority position in a pagan world, and unless they recover the ethos of being “resident aliens” in the world, they will continue to be marginalized.
He also reminds us, however, that weakness is not a bad position for Christians to be in. “For me, the deterioration and disarray of the movement is a source of hope: hope that churches will stop angling for human power and start proclaiming the power of Christ.”
And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. (Luke 2:7)
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