DECEMBER 31ST - THE SEVENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

The Glorious New Creation

"For I am about to create new heavens

   and a new earth;

the former things shall not be remembered

    or come to mind.

But be glad and rejoice forever

    in what I am creating;

for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,

    and its people as a delight.

I will rejoice in Jerusalem,

    and delight in my people;

no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it,

    or the cry of distress." Is 65:17-19 (NRSV)

 

and you shall be called, “Sought Out,

    A City Not Forsaken.” Is 62:12b (NRSV)

 

Selah (Ps 46, 48)

 

"Lord, you have been our dwelling place

    in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth,

    or ever you had formed the earth and the world,

    from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

You turn us back to dust,

    and say, “Turn back, you mortals.”

For a thousand years in your sight

    are like yesterday when it is past,

    or like a watch in the night.

You sweep them away; they are like a dream,

    like grass that is renewed in the morning;

in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;

    in the evening it fades and withers." Ps 90: 1-6 (NRSV)

 

I am learning, as we all do in different stages and moments in life, there will always be an after. After baptism, after the baby was born, they didn't make it, after their death, after college, after the wedding, the accident, the sabbatical, ordination, entering a community, and the list goes on and on. There will also be a time after the pandemic, as we now know of life before the pandemic. We know this before and after to be true, history is on our side and Scripture attests to this truth, "Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. You turn us back to dust, and say, “Turn back, you mortals.” For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, or like a watch in the night." This momentary, seemingly endless, relentless, moment is still a moment, just one, in this vast expanse we know as time. It is comforting, grounding, to hear that we are not the only ones searching for home, the place where we belong. Long have we, frail humans, dwelt with the Holy One, for generations, even. I live in the shelter and shadow of mountains and to contemplate the knowing and glory of God to be before the mountains were brought forth is an incredible mystery and reality. And to be returned to the same dust as these mountains brings memory to the fibers in my being, rooting me to these mountains as a temporary, earthly being much like this pandemic and year. 2020, at the end of this very day, has ended, and there will be an after just as there was before.

A few short days ago, we celebrated Christmas, the birth of the long-awaited Saviour, and the return to longer, brighter days. I write this reflection in the week before Christmas, and the winter solstice, so the days are indeed still darkening and winter is still rolling in, but the sun (glorious sun!) has made an appearance for the first time in days to offer a blessed, small, reprieve to my soul (a/n: not just mine of course). The long days of Advent are over. This short season in the liturgical year pivots us to the beginning of the rest of our eternal lives with Christ in the birth of Jesus. Like this sun over the valley, brighter days are ahead, when, or how they are about to come about is unknown, but the Light we cling to at Christmas is the being with tiny breaths held at the breast of Mary, Emmanuel. God is with us and has been before us and will be long after us. We have been sought out in creation, formed, and known from the womb of the earth, and somehow, in some time "no more shall the sound of weeping be heard". May we be like grass renewed in the morning, may we be reminded that we will fade and wither, and through it all, You are God, from everlasting to everlasting. Selah.

May we, I, seek this glorious new creation. Christ has been born in Bethlehem, the city of David. Let us continue to keep watch through this night for there will be rejoicing in the morning. Alleluia.

 -Kelsea Willis

DECEMBER 30TH - THE SIXTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

Twenty Three Revisted

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.  Psalm 23 KJV

Jim:

What a precious gem Psalm 23 is. How many times have we called out and found comfort in these few but very powerful words? Personally, I am unable to count the number of times I’ve spoken, prayed or cried the first line: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. For me, the most precious word in this line is “my”. Not our, not the whole world, not the church, but “my” shepherd.  Twenty-seven (almost 30%) of the words used in Psalm 23 are personal/relational words:  He, Thy, Thou, His, me, my, mine, I. If He is a Shepherd to no one else, He is a Shepherd to me. Unworthy me.

Psalm 23, located in the middle of the shepherd’s Psalms, starts with a line that is in stark contrast to the first line in Psalm 22, (known as the psalm of the cross); “My God, my God why hast Thou forsaken me?” Why is this? Because we all need to realise the value of the Great Shepherd’s blood, freely shed for us, His helpless sheep; His lost sheep.

A few decades ago, I employed a wildlife biologist/shepherdess who enlightened me on what shepherding sheep actually required and she certainly turned around my vision of cuddly fluffy white sheep frolicking in a field. She shared that sheep must be protected and cared for pretty much 24/7. They are weak, panicky, defenceless and oftentimes helpless. Their wool is habitually dirty, mud-caked, smelly, and contains burrs and bugs. They are susceptible to a host of parasites. They will only drink from still water but can drown if it’s too deep. Sheep need constant shepherding because they wander, follow the wrong leader, overgraze the pasture or are attacked by predators.  They may also have a tendency to cast, which is defined as a sheep falling down or laying down and not being able to get back up because its center of gravity is off. Sheep will die within hours if not helped back up again. Oh Lord Jesus, how often have I been cast down and needed help getting back up again? How often have You found that my center of gravity (my relationship with you) is off?  

Fortunately, we are blessed to have a Great Shepherd who not only loves and cares for us but died for us, even though we are often wandering, messy, undeserving and sometimes cast down sheep. Ultimately, only our Great Shepherd knows what we need and provides for us lowly sheep now and eternally - Praise You Lord God Emmanuel!

Pat:

Twenty-Three Revisited is a piece I wrote in 2019, written from the viewpoint of someone who has grappled with depression and anxiety, someone who has struggled with living in a shadow. Two of the definitions for “shadow” in the online Merriam-Webster dictionary are “an imperfect and faint representation” and “a shaded or darker portion of a picture” which is very representative of how living with depression can feel. It was also important to me that the piece have the words “I art still” for I know how an anxious mind can be so unstill, wound up, replaying, worrying, second guessing… The list can go on and on. For myself, “be still and know that I am God” from Psalm 46:10 are words of utmost importance.

In writing this very personal piece, I took each of the 118 words from Psalm 23 (KJV) - no more, no less -and rearranged them into Twenty-Three Revisited. This piece embodies my daily need to “not lie in a shadow” but instead seek and follow the Shepherd, the LORD of my life.

Twenty-Three Revisited ^©Patricia Poriz 2019

For my sake, I will lie not in a shadow; shall head through the valley, runneth down the green paths and follow thy staff to the waters.

Goodness, He maketh me; Comfort, He restoreth me; Righteousness, He anointest me.

Though they dwell, no rod of the enemies shall I fear, for surely thou will walk in, over evil and death.

Before – beside - with me, in the pastures, thou my LORD, his name’s Shepherd; I art still, for He is mine.

I want my soul ever with thou presence!

Leadeth me in thy mercy; yea, all my days leadeth me and preparest me,

LORD of the cup,

of the oil,

of the table,

of the house,

of my life.

Our prayer for you as you head down 2021’s pathways is this: Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen. (Hebrews 13: 20-21 NIV).

 Jim & Pat Poriz

DECEMBER 29TH - FIFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

      -Christ in the Winepress, Bavaria, ca. 1500. Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich.

6 This is the one who came by water and blood—Jesus Christ. He did not come by water only, but by water and blood. And it is the Spirit who testifies, because the Spirit is the truth. 7 For there are three that testify: 8 the Spirit, the water and the blood; and the three are in agreement.  John 5:6-8

I love this passage in John because it talks about thinginess.

Thinginess is my (slightly facetious) way of referring to the tangibility of the world. We crunch apples and climb mountains and admire Christmas trees because they’re real things that exist in the physical reality we know best.

Here, of course, John is not talking about Christmas trees, but about Jesus becoming a human being. Jesus came “by water and blood,” we are told, and then, just in case we didn’t get it the first time, John reiterates: “He did not come by water only, but by water and blood.” This description of the Incarnation is very striking, because water and blood tend to be two of the less pleasant aspects of human thinginess. Both would have poured onto the stable floor during the birth of Jesus. And John himself likely saw the water and blood that flowed out of Jesus’ side after his excruciating death on the cross. Water and blood are powerful reminders of the messiness and permeability of physical existence. Incarnation is not always fun. And it is not for the faint of heart.

I have thought a lot about thinginess in my life, because I have a spinal deformity that has meant I’ve lived with bouts of pain for a long time. It is hard to live in a body that is in pain. Pain pulls you from whatever you would rather be doing or thinking about and places you firmly back into your nerve endings. This is a big reason why I love the messiness of the Incarnation that John talks about. This Incarnation is not a neat picture of a rosy baby in a suspiciously hygienic manger. Jesus comes through the pain and bleeding that having a body often entails.

But another element is at play. “And it is the Spirit who testifies, because the Spirit is the truth. For there are three that testify: the Spirit, the water and the blood; and the three are in agreement.” The distracting, debilitating reality that Jesus was born into is shot through with the Spirit, who proclaims that this thingy human is also God. And because of this Spirit, the cross is not the end of Jesus’ existence on earth. Jesus comes back with a new and improved body that bears the scars of its old death proudly but is not limited by them. We tend to imagine heaven as some purely spiritual realm, but the only glimpse of an afterlife we see in the Bible is when Jesus comes back here to go on walks to Emmaus and cook breakfast on the beach. The Incarnation and Passion and Resurrection all tell us that our physical being is filled with the Spirit and is tied in some mysterious way to eternity, even when it is inconvenient, distracting, and painful.

Right now, thinginess is particularly complicated. Our planet is warming. Our messy and permeable bodies emit aerosol droplets and endanger one another. But good meals and arthritic joints and the sound you make when you slap your leg because someone told you a really great joke are all still sanctified. Being thingy is a very hard thing to be, but Jesus’ advent to us through water and blood is a binding and eternal promise that our thinginess is far more than we can ask or imagine.

Thanks be to God.

- Rachel Robinson

DECEMBER 28TH - FOURTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

Shout for joy, you heavens; rejoice, you earth; burst into song, you mountains! For the Lord comforts his people and will have compassion on his afflicted ones. Isaiah 49: 13

He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. And He said “truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” Matthew 18: 2-3

Christmas day has come and gone too quickly, the birth of our Lord and Saviour has happened! Did we shout for joy? Did we rejoice enough? Did anyone burst into song? I hope so, I hope at the very least this miracle brightened hearts and lifted spirits the world over.

All through advent I have watched my three-year-old daughter, Islay, as she marveled at our Christmas decorations, listened intently as I read all of the stories; played happily with her toy crèche, even taking the bed from her toy castle and tucking the Baby Jesus in because “there wasn’t a blanket in the manger mom.”   Her joy filled my heart and reminded me of what Jesus tells us, (how many times?) that we must all strive to be like children if we are to find ourselves in the kingdom of heaven.  The pure joy in a child’s eyes as they gaze on a beautiful Christmas scene, the dancing and jumping for joy as the excitement within bubbles over, it is contagious, it is inspiring; and it is something to aspire to.

Christmas may have looked very different this year. We may not have all had the Christmas we had planned, we may not have shared in many well-established traditions, and we may not have checked everything off of our lists. But Jesus was there, His presence and His love should fill our hearts to overflowing, should inspire us to shout, dance and sing! We belong to a Lord who has compassion, who knows our hearts, who bids us to keep in our hearts the happiness of Christmas’ past, the way we felt as children.

I pray that as we continue our journey through the twelve days of Christmas that we can embrace that joy with the innocence and love of a child. That we can feel ever nearer to our Lord with the boundless love of a child. And may generosity fill our hearts to continue to give to others in whom we see a need… like a baby in need of a better blanket.

- Allison Kittleson

DECEMBER 27TH - THIRD DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

The Nativity by Jacob Jordaens the Elder, c.1653

Psalm 93

The Lord reigns, he is robed in majesty;

    the Lord is robed in majesty and armed with strength;

    indeed, the world is established, firm and secure.

Your throne was established long ago;

    you are from all eternity.

 The seas have lifted up, Lord,

    the seas have lifted up their voice;

    the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,

    mightier than the breakers of the sea—

    the Lord on high is mighty.

 Your statutes, Lord, stand firm;

    holiness adorns your house

    for endless days.

 

When we lived in Calgary, we would look forward to attending the Calgary Philharmonic’s annual Traditional Christmas performance. Rather than at the CPO’s usual venue – the enormous Jack Singer Concert Hall –  this event took place at the relatively intimate Grace Presbyterian, one of Calgary’s great old churches. Every time we went the event was sold out, and the weather was suitably cold, which meant that people were happy to sit close to strangers in the old pews. The CPO did not skimp on instrumentalists or vocalists, so the front of the church was equally packed. It felt like sitting in the orchestra’s lap. And when the music began, it felt like a tea cozy of sound enveloping the audience.

 he program included a few contemporary Christmas favourites, but mostly the music was choral classical in nature, much of it new to us and always a delightful surprise. One piece, in particular, we now return to every Christmas; Serenity (O Magnum Mysterium) by Ola Gjeilo, performed with a choir and one cello. The effect of this piece on a room full of diverse strangers was sublime; it felt like the final step between being music lovers to becoming actual worshippers. And in that sacred space infused with sacred music, there may have been more than a few who found themselves making the leap. I suspect that the music of Christmas has that effect on more people than who will admit it.

Each year when I listen to this piece, I find myself contemplating two contrasting pictures; the glory of God and His creation described in Psalm 93 against the humble scene described in the original text of O Magnum Mysterium: 

O great mystery, and wonderful sacrament, that animals should see the newborn Lord, lying in a manger! Blessed is the virgin whose womb was worthy to bear the Lord, Jesus Christ. Alleluia!

The Lord of the vast, pristine cosmos is the same Lord who came among us as Emmanuel with animals, hay, and the comfort of warm bodies together on a cold night. (Note: I can confirm that the Holy Land in December is chilly. I saw actual snow on the hills.)  Flash forward – cold strangers in Calgary, bundled up and grateful for the warm church, snuggled up against each other, smells of old wood, musical instruments and the crush of bodies, grateful for one another’s company. Like little children, all gathered in expectation of something truly extraordinary.

 Prayer:

Lord, you are the one we have been longing for. No one or nothing else will satisfy. Lord speak to us. Lord, meet with us. Now and always. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

 - Pat Hammond

DECEMBER 26TH - THE SECOND DAY OF CHRISTMAS

 

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.

Psalm 28:7

 He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

The 2010 film, 127 Hours, is based on the experiences of mountaineer Aron Ralston. His is a true story of life over limb, in which Aron takes extraordinary measures to escape a life-threatening situation, while canyoneering in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park. During the ordeal the climber is gifted with the vision of a future son, which Aron credits for showing him the path to survival. The vision of a child, to be born, becomes hope itself.

Watching the film, shortly after its release, marked a turning point for me as a new parent of twins. It was the first time I imagined myself in the role, not as protagonist, but of his worried mother. I found myself unsettled by thoughts of our son or daughter, one day, being in similarly perilous situations—threatened by physical or spiritual harm.

Our ability to protect those we love will always be limited. When loved ones face trials, I sometimes feel stressed by my inability to relieve their suffering. In these moments, I am learning to pray to God, that he will reach out to those in need and that their hearts may be open to Him.

This Christmas a messiah has come bearing a message to look beyond material riches into the wealth of human character. To us all is born that infant, the Prince of Peace, hope itself.  

Alleluia!

 The Lord shall reign for ever, even thy God, O Zion, unto all generations. Praise ye the Lord. (Psalm 146:10)

- Alison Goodwin

DECEMBER 25TH - CHRISTMAS DAY

 

² “But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
    though you are small among the clans of Judah,
out of you will come for me
    one who will be ruler over Israel,
whose origins are from of old,
    from ancient times.”

³ Therefore Israel will be abandoned
    until the time when she who is in labor bears a son,
and the rest of his brothers return
    to join the Israelites.

⁴ He will stand and shepherd his flock
    in the strength of the Lord,
    in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.
And they will live securely, for then his greatness
    will reach to the ends of the earth. 

                                    - Micah 5:2-4

In one of the most insignificant towns of Judah was born the most significant person in all humanity.

God became one of us, truly an infant, truly human, and yet truly Christ, Son of the Father and Son of Man.

This year our celebration at church is more subdued than usual and yet may be reaching just as many or maybe even more people. If I count my 3 years in the late fifties in the Sunday School and the Junior Choir I have been part of St. Augustine’s for roughly 50 years and this year is certainly (and hopefully) unique. Many of us are also having quieter and smaller celebrations in our homes. Simone and I are likely celebrating Christmas Day just the 2 of us for the first time in 42 years (2 days after our wedding). We do plan to celebrate with our children and grandchildren at some future date when we can responsibly assemble. Then we can enjoy the usual busy house, piles of presents and turkey with all the trimmings.

But we will celebrate quietly and well today as we remember the unassuming but blessed event of the birth of a child who was settled into a manger more than 2000 years ago.

So, to paraphrase ‘God rest ye merry, Gentlemen’……..Hey folks, be happy, don’t forget that our Savior was born on this day.