All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the
prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him
Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” –Matthew 1:22-23


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I can offer you no words that have not been said, no song that has been left unsung. We can only go back to the beginning, the beginning that starts tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day when our savior arrives. It is the newest day celebrating our oldest wish for when the sun climbs over our rooftops it will bring light into the world exposing our dreams for renewal.

Two thousand years ago a woman held her baby and perhaps she whispered a prayer quietly into her newborn’s ear. A prayer passing on her own dreams and speaking of the dreams she had for her boy. A prayer for calm. A prayer of an unending desire for peace. A prayer for concord rather than discord. A prayer for protection, a promise to be the protector.

Every day before that day and every day since that day, a mother has spoken that same prayer to her own child. A child, mere minutes or hours old, a witness to nothing serving as a witness to hope. Strengthened with her mother’s prayer, that child has the capacity to change this world for the better. Strengthened by his mother’s love, that child can bring renewal to a tired world.

The constancy of love passing from generation to generation is evidence of God’s intended consequence for all of us. We do not love God out of fear that if we do not, we will be punished or cast away. No, the consequence of loving God is God’s love. It is God’s love that can be shared with all of humanity.

Tomorrow is evidence of God’s love. Tomorrow is Christmas. Tomorrow is our charge to renew that love.

And from that love, comes hope. From that love comes the desire to enter into the world and share that love without judgement or stipulation, to tear down walls that impede that love, to lift up the lowly so that they might experience that love, and to love those who do not love us so that we might all renew that love.

And tomorrow, tomorrow and every day past and present, God has and will hold us in her arms again and whisper to us a quiet prayer. A prayer that says: “I love you.”

God is with us.

Post by Matt Handi

St. Nicholas

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Today is the feast day of Saint Nicholas of Myra, one of the most popular saints in both Eastern and Western Christianity. As many American children do, I believed in “Santa Claus,” and at a very young age asked whether Santa was real, whether he actually came and delivered presents. The answer (I won’t spoil it for you if you don’t already know!) was painful, and I actually blocked out this memory and had to ask again the next year. I was comforted when I found out that the Bishop of Myra, who visited my church, St. Peter’s, every year, was the same person as Santa Claus.

I was sad to lose the Santa myth as a child. I loved the magical transformation of our house from Christmas Eve to Christmas morning. Often the anticipation, the joy of sneaking downstairs and seeing the beautiful gifts we were lucky to have, was more enjoyable than the gifts themselves. I loved the idea that overnight, something magical happens. Something changes.

Learning more about the legends of Saint Nicholas, I find the same type of magic present in his story. While he is best known for providing (in secret, of course) three bags of gold to a poor family for their daughters’ dowries, he also is said to have freed prisoners, restored children from death, and appeared to sailors in the midst of a storm. The magic of “Santa” is actually the magic and wonder that comes from being around someone very kind, holy, and good. Someone who loved God so much that he would help others in total darkness, in secret, asking nothing in return.

In Advent, we reflect on the imagery of darkness: specifically, the darkness that precedes the light coming into the world. Night time is not empty but a time full of anticipation, reflection, and active waiting. It is a magic time. And when morning comes, something is different. Something changes.

Post by Carrie Combs

Hagiographic information from Stars in a Dark World: Stories of the Saints and Holy Days of the Liturgy by Fr. John-Julian, OJN.

The Prophet Isaiah

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By Benjamin Straley

In our places of worship this morning, we likely heard the following the following passages:

"Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel." (Isaiah 7.14)

"All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: "Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel."" (Matthew 1.22, 23)

The prophet Isaiah is speaking a message of hope to his people in a time of uncertainty - that God is still with us.  The divinity school student in me freely acknowledges that when this was written, Isaiah was not talking about Jesus. And yet, the narrative arc of a people and of a nation extends far beyond the immediate moment, or any one given time.

I often wonder what the founders of this nation would think if they could see our country today: had they even thought it would last one hundred years? Maybe. Maybe not.  The words they spoke about equality, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness were not fully realized in their time, but they were a vision to be pursued, even if they could not see the full implications at that time.

When Matthew quotes the prophet Isaiah in his Gospel, he, together with the burgeoning Christian community, have come to realize the fulfillment of Isaiah's promise that God would dwell with his people - the consummation of that hope that was begun in Abraham (or from the foundations of the world, we might argue!), finding its enfleshment in Jesus.

Could Isaiah have foreseen as radical a fulfillment of his words as the Incarnation? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whatever the case, I pray that we may all, in times of uncertainty or strife, have the confidence and strength to see that our very particular hopes for this world extend and continue beyond our immediate moments in history - and that they may just exist outside of our own lifetimes. But hope we must.  How blessed are we that our greatest hope, Jesus our Lord, has already come to us.

Poem with reflection by Thom Peters

Hope Holds to Christ

by Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1899)

Hope holds to Christ the mind’s own mirror out

To take His lovely likeness more and more.

It will not well, so she would bring about

An ever brighter burnish than before

And turns to wash it from her welling eyes

And breathes the blots off all with sighs on sighs.

Her glass is blest but she as good as blind

Holds till hand aches and wonders what is there;

Her glass drinks light, she darkles down behind,

All of her glorious gainings unaware.

. . . . . . . .

I told you that she turned her mirror dim

Betweenwhiles, but she sees herself not Him.

Hopkins, Gerard Manley. Poems. London: Humphrey Milford, 1918; Bartleby.com, 1999. www.bartleby.com/122/. November 22, 2016.

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This poem is hard to understand at first reading, but try it a second time.

Imagine you are Hope, and you desperately want to see Christ in this magical mirror.  But you keep seeing yourself, so you keep trying to make the image in the mirror clearer.  You wash it with your tears.  And then with your breath.  You keep trying and trying, trying so long that your hand begins to ache holding up the mirror.  But still, you see yourself.

For now.  Advent is that time of waiting, knowing that someday we will be able to see Christ fully.  There will come a time when we shall see all things more clearly.  

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.  

(I Corinthians 13:12)