Rock the Child

 

 When the parents brought in the child Jesus,
            to do for him what was customary under the law,
            Simeon took him in his arms and praised God.
                                    —Luke 2.27-28

The Christ child is no longer in the manger.
The Holy Infant is in your heart now—
beloved, full of God's possibilities,
warm with God's gentle presence,
God's tender newness within you.
Love the Christ child.
And how do you do that?
Sit there, mostly.
Hold the child.
Let the mystery of love flow
between your heart and the child's.
Like a new parent,
let this become part of your routine.
Give time to simply sit
and hold the divine child in your heart.
Rock the child,
                        rock the child,
                                                rock the child.

 

Steve Garnass-Holmes, unfoldinglight.net, December 28, 2020

Refugee King

When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod will soon search for the child in order to kill him." (Matthew 2:13)  

Away from the manger they ran for their lives
The crying boy Jesus, a son they must hide
A dream came to Joseph, they fled in the night
And they ran and they ran and they ran

Ooh

No stars in the sky but the Spirit of God
Led down into Egypt from Herod to hide
No place for his parents no country or tribe
And they ran and they ran and they ran

Ooh

Stay near me LORD Jesus when danger is nigh
And keep us from Herods and all of their lies
I love the LORD Jesus, the Refugee King

And we sing and we sing and we sing x2

Hallelujah

Liz Vance, Image, December 10, 2019

May Today There Be Peace Within

 May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on
      the love that
has been given you. . . .
May you be content knowing you are a child of God. . . .
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the
      freedom to
sing, dance, praise, and love.
It is there for each and every one of us.

St. Teresa of Avila

Christmas Blessing

 May the coming of Christ

deepen your wonder
and widen your gratitude.

May the helpless child
bring forth your tenderness
and strengthen your love.

May the gentle mother
give you courage to embrace the holy
and find the divine within yourself.

May the child who shares our death
bring light into your darkness
and hope to your weariness.

May the holy family in the stable
open your heart to the poor,
the homeless, the refugee.

May the child sought by soldiers
embolden you to cry out
and empower you to resist injustice.

May the angels who sing above you
awaken your heart
and surround you with beauty.

May the One Who Comes
remind you of your belovedness
and fill you with kindness and mercy
and give you joy.

The World War I Christmas Truce, December 24, 1914

It was on this day in 1914 that the last known Christmas truce occurred along the Western Front during World War I. In the week leading up to Christmas, soldiers all over the battlefields had been decorating their trenches with candles and makeshift trimmings when groups of German and British soldiers began shouting seasonal greetings and singing songs to each other. On occasion, a soldier or two would even cross the battlefield to take gifts to the enemy. Then, on Christmas Eve, the men of the Western Front put the war on hold and many soldiers from both sides left their trenches to meet in No Man's Land, where they mingled and exchanged tobacco, chocolate, and sometimes even the buttons from their own uniforms as souvenirs. They played games of football, sang carols, and buried fallen comrades together as the unofficial truce lasted through the night.

The most remarkable part is the group of soldiers who, after having met the enemy between the trenches, started thinking about all they had read and heard about them.

For many, the former hatred vanished. They now recognized the soldiers from the other side of the trenches as human as themselves. They were not mercenaries, no inhuman monsters eager for war, just humans. The stereotypes they knew from the time before the war and before they met their enemies did not fit after meeting their enemies. Not all Germans acted like it was described in the newspaper and were not as arrogant as the German Kaiser. On the other hand, not all the English soldiers were mercenaries fighting for material well-being.

These soldiers started to reflect on their own experiences and started to compare their experiences with what they knew before about their enemies. The conclusion they made was that their prefabricated picture and the experiences they gained did not fit together. It was hard for the soldiers, faced with the reality of the war, to keep the black and white picture. The reality they saw was a grey picture with blurry boundaries.

"The World War I Christmas Truce, December 24, 1914" published in beautywelove.blogspot.com, December 24, 2014

A Carol from Flanders

In Flanders on the Christmas morn
The trenched foemen lay,
The German and the Briton born,
And it was Christmas Day.

The red sun rose on fields accurst,
The gray fog fled away;
But neither cared to fire the first,
For it was Christmas Day!

They called from each to each across
The hideous disarray,
For terrible has been their loss:
“Oh, this is Christmas Day!”

Their rifles all they set aside,
One impulse to obey;
’Twas just the men on either side,
Just men—and Christmas Day.

They dug the graves for all their dead
And over them did pray:
And Englishmen and Germans said:
“How strange a Christmas Day!”

Between the trenches then they met,
Shook hands, and e’en did play
At games on which their hearts were set
On happy Christmas Day.

Not all the emperors and kings,
Financiers and they
Who rule us could prevent these things—
For it was Christmas Day.

Oh ye who read this truthful rime
From Flanders, kneel and say:
God speed the time when every day
Shall be as Christmas Day.

Frederick Niven, public domain 

I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light

I want to walk as a child of the light.
I want to follow Jesus.
God set the stars to give light to the world.
The star of my life is Jesus.
     Refrain:
     In him there is no darkness at all.
     The night and the day are both alike.
     The Lamb is the light of the city of God.   
     Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

I want to see the brightness of God.
I want to look at Jesus.
Clear Sun of Righteousness shine on my path.
Show me the way to the Father.

I'm looking for the coming of Christ.
I want to be with Jesus.
When we have run with patience the race,
we shall know the joy of Jesus.

Kathleen Tomerson, The United Methodist Hymnal #206 (The United Methodist Publishing House 1989) 

Favor

 

My soul magnifies the Holy One,
for God, you have looked with favor
on the lowliness of your servant.
                                       Luke 1:46

What if there was nothing special about Mary at all?
What if she was not particularly pious or virtuous,
but simply willing to hear the Word:
"You have found favor with God."

What if all that's needed to ignite a miracle
is the willingness to accept God's favor?
What if to bring salvation to the world all God needs of us
is to receive God's delight in us?
To imagine God's saving grace growing within us.
To trust God's tender regard for us
despite our lowliness, despite our undeserving;
despite all the hardships and struggles,
even the sin and despair, to trust God's joy?
Not that we are better, only that we are beloved.
What if all God asks of us is
to say Yes to God's Yes?
To hear God's hope for us
and to reply with all our hearts,
"Let it be to me according to your word."

Steve Garnass-Holmes, unfoldinglight.net, December 12, 2019

Finding Our Kneeling Places

In each heart lies a Bethlehem,
      an inn where we must ultimately answer
          whether there is room or not.
When we are Bethlehem-bound
      we experience our own advent in his.
When we are Bethlehem-bound
      we can no longer look the other way
          conveniently not seeing stars
              not hearing angel voices.
We can no longer excuse ourselves by busily
      tending our sheep or our kingdoms.
    
This Advent let's go to Bethlehem
      and see this thing that the Lord has made known to us,
In the midst of shopping sprees
      let's ponder in our hearts the Gift of Gifts.
Through the tinsel
      let's look for the gold of the Christmas Star.
In the excitement and confusion, in the merry chaos,
      let's listen for the brush of angels' wings.
This Advent, let's go to Bethlehem
      and find our kneeling places.

Ann Weems, Kneeling in Bethlehem, (The Westminster Press, 1987)    

Light the Festive Candles (A Hanukkah Poem)

 

Light the first of eight tonight –

the farthest candle to the right.

Light the first and second, too,

when tomorrow’s day is through.

Then light three, and then light four –

every dusk one candle more

till all eight burn bright and high,

honoring a day gone by

when the Temple was restored,

rescued from the Syrian lord,

and an eight-day feast proclaimed –

The Festival of Lights – well named

to celebrate the joyous day

when we regained the right to pray

to our one God in our own way.

Aileen Lucia Fisher, romper.com, December 22, 2016

Rejoice Always

 

             Rejoice always, pray without ceasing,
             give thanks in all circumstances.
                                     —1 Thessalonians 5.16-18

Seriously? Even with all the crud in the world?
Yes. In the rock-paper-scissors of life
joy cuts sorrow, crushes despair and swallows crud.
Grieve first... and joy comes with the morning.

These are hard days. But joy is bigger than these days.
Joy is not happiness with present circumstances,
but harmony with the goodness of God
and the overflowing of God's delight in us.
Joy includes the universe,
and all its beauty and sorrow.
Joy dances with gratitude.
Joy plays with hope, which is trust in the unseen.
Joy sings with love, which is self-giving for another,
who is the self—a return to wholeness. What joy!

Yes, people are suffering, and others don't care.
But some do. Rejoice!
You can rejoice during a pandemic.
You can give thanks at a funeral.
You can be joyful in prison.
You can lament suffering and injustice, and rejoice.
For joy is the healing of broken hearts,
the breaking of chains, the opening of graves,
the coming of God.

Christ does not come to make us happy,
but to stand with us in the pain of life
until joy like a seed rises.

All is swallowed up in joy.

Steve Garnass-Holmes, unfoldingjoy.net, December 10, 2020

For My Daughter

 

When I die choose a star

and name it after me

that you may know

I have not abandoned

or forgotten you.

You were such a star to me,

following you through birth

and childhood, my hand

in your hand.

 

When I die

choose a star and name it

after me so that I may shine

down on you, until you join

me in darkness and silence

together.

David Ignatow, Poetry 180, Poem 064 December 9, 2020

Adult Advent Announcement

 

O Lord,
Let Advent begin again
In us,
Not merely in commercials;
For that first Christmas was not
Simply for children,
But for the
Wise and the strong.
It was
Crowded around that cradle,
With kings kneeling.
Speak to us
Who seek an adult seat this year.
Help us to realize,
As we fill stockings,
Christmas is mainly
For the old folks —
Bent backs
And tired eyes
Need relief and light
A little more.
No wonder
It was grown-ups
Who were the first
To notice
Such a star.

David Redding, If I Could Pray Again (Word, 1965)

My House

i only want to

be there to kiss you

as you want to be kissed

when you need to be kissed

where i want to kiss you

cause its my house and i plan to live in it

 

i really need to hug you

when i want to hug you

as you like to hug me

does this sound like a silly poem

 

i mean its my house

and i want to fry pork chops

and bake sweet potatoes

and call them yams

cause i run the kitchen

and i can stand the heat

 

i spent all winter in

carpet stores gathering

patches so i could make

a quilt

does this really sound

like a silly poem

 

i mean i want to keep you

warm

 

and my windows might be dirty

but its my house

and if i can't see out sometimes

they can't see in either

 

english isn't a good language

to express emotion through

mostly i imagine because people

try to speak english instead

of trying to speak through it

i don't know maybe it is

a silly poem

 

i'm saying it's my house

and i'll make fudge and call

it love and touch my lips

to the chocolate warmth

and smile at old men and call

it revolution cause what's real

is really real

and i still like men in tight

pants cause everybody has some

thing to give and more

important need something to take

 

and this is my house and you make me

happy

so this is your poem

Nikki Giovanni, theatlantic.com, November 20, 2020 

No Losers, No Weepers

 

“I hate to lose something,”
               then she bent her head,
“even a dime, I wish I was dead.
I can’t explain it. No more to be said.
’Cept I hate to lose something.
“I lost a doll once and cried for a week.
She could open her eyes, and do all but speak.
I believe she was took, by some doll-snatching sneak.
I tell you, I hate to lose something.
 
“A watch of mine once, got up and walked away.
It had twelve numbers on it and for the time of day.
I’ll never forget it and all I can say
Is I really hate to lose something.
 
“Now if I felt that way ’bout a watch and a toy,
What you think I feel ’bout my lover-boy?
I ain’t threatening you, madam, but he is my evening’s joy.
And I mean I really hate to lose something.”

Maya Angelou, The Complete Poetry (Random House, 2005)

Making the House Ready for the Lord

 

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice — it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances — but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.

Mary Oliver, Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006)

For Life

For the empty seat, we hold silence.
         Love, have mercy.
For the two hundred thousand, we weep.
         Love, have mercy.
For the homes incinerated, we mourn.
         Love, have mercy.
For the rule of law, we lament.
         Love, have mercy.

For kindness and nonviolence, we pray.
         Love, have mercy.
For courage to stand, to speak, to act, we pray.
         Love, have mercy.
For faith in one another,
that we still hold the future in our hands, we pray.
         Love, have mercy.

For justice that dismantles oppression,
hope that overcomes despair,
for faith that overpowers dread,
for love that defeats fear,
for joy that will not be taken from us, we pray.
         Love, have mercy.
In the face of all that oppresses,
give us trust in grace unseen;
give us hearts to rise, to serve,
yes, even to sing
         for life,
         for life.

Steve Garnass-Holmes, unfoldinglight.net, September 22, 2020 

Salvation Army Vibes

 

Outside the local supermarket in my small town, Salvation Army volunteers sit beside the Red Kettle, ringing their red bells, playing recorded Christmas carols. Mostly older, they work their shift, wait for a replacement, greet neighbors, chat with friends.   In Midtown Manhattan in early December,  the Army deploys a different vibe, two young people, on a busy street corner, boom box blaring hip-hop music. In red costumes, they dance with wild athleticism, sing loudly, attract lots of attention.  They call out to strangers walking by, urging them to give.   The elderly volunteers with their tinkling bells would be swallowed up in the street noise of Manhattan. The cacophony of the hip-hop duo would cause consternation at the entrance to Vons.   But the generosity of the season lives everywhere. Juliane McAdam, yourdailypoem.com, December 1, 2020

I Am Rosa Parks

There’ve been many before me.
Brave women who decided they would not allow themselves
To be pushed around.
However, it is me
They call a heroine.
A term I do not deserve more than the others.

‘That’s the lady who dared’

I hear my name in whispers around corners,
As people squeeze themselves in small cars,
And take long walks to workplaces and schools.

I have never felt more overwhelmed.
To see a community stand tall, strong and proud as one
regardless of color?
Breathtaking.

There shouldn’t be glory in standing up for oneself.
However, if it is what shall move the nation,
I shall gladly allow it.

For the right to speak one’s mind, should be a right for all.

The fire has been lit and it shall keep burning.
We shall not stop
Until we can all walk hand in hand, as one
And sit side by side, as one.

Temidayo Olayide, poetryandproze.com, December 3, 2017