Ponder It A Bit Longer

This example of procrastination turned into stewardship first appeared in the New Yorker magazine.

   For many folks, Christmas ended on the 25th. I was amused to see people proudly post online that they had already de-Christmased their homes on the 26th...taking down the wreaths, tree, ornaments, nativity scenes...in order to get things back to normal. For others, Christmas ends a little later on, but truthfully few still observe all twelve days of Christmas that actually start on December 25th. Instead, we all have our own schedules and ways of ending things.

   Can you remember how the first Christmas story ends? Luke 2 says, "all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." Something about that line about Mary is interesting to me. It says people were amazed at the moment - the baby, the manger, the pitiful surroundings, the shepherds, the star - but that Mary apparently hung on to it all longer than just the moment. She kept it. Christmas was longer than a day or even a season.

   Some of you are saying, "Sure she did, she had a newborn on her hands and did not have a choice." But I don't think that is what Luke is talking about. I think he wants us to know that Mary was paying attention, and that the implications of the significance of that first Christmas were not lost on her. Things had changed; not just for her but maybe for the whole world.

   We could learn from Mary. It is worth remembering that out of all the women on earth, God did choose her to bring the Savior into the world. We all could stand to allow the truths of Christmas to linger a little longer in our hearts, too. God becoming flesh and blood, as the writer John tells the Christmas story, is something new altogether. God has done a new thing. Maybe we can take our old ways...and packed them up with all of those ornaments and decorations. Grace and Peace to you, Scott

Sing. Now. Be Merry.

drawing by Ed Fisher, appeared in the New Yorker magazine

   Christmas is drawing close...it is here. For many folks, this cartoon captures the truth. We feel like a part of the herd, pushed forward and told to "sing now." It is Christmas. Sing. Be merry. Have a good time.
   But, we resist. For good reasons. We know better than to dictate feelings and emotions to others. It does not work. And, besides, some people find it hard to be merry all of the time during this time of the year. Memories are strong, right now, and those memories take us back to when loved ones were still with us and things were different. The holidays can be difficult. We would be remiss not to respect that truth. I believe we must be ever vigilant to reach out to those who hurt and extend our care and compassion, especially now.
   Beyond our respect for the feelings and context of others, I read into this cartoon another element of modern celebrating that had little place in the original Christmas story: the sense of awe. Stories of the first Christmas, from Matthew and Luke, are both filled with moments of surprise and wonder. There were angels making startling announcements to both Mary and Joseph. Elizabeth and Zechariah get the surprise of the their lives, when told they have have a son named John. An angelic chorus directs shepherds to cave used as a stable, of all places, to find a child just born. All the while, we're told God's plan to redeem all of the world is being put on full display. The first Christmas was anything but rote.
   In the midst of all of the emotions and busyness of the season, may we move at our own pace toward the scene being played out before us. May we gaze with awe at how the God of the Universe is choosing to reveal himself to us this year. Grace and Peace to you.

Guide to Lectio Divina

This is a practice I have recently begun, and I thought I'd share it...this overview comes from the monthly devotional book Give Us This Day.

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Choose a word or phrase of the Scriptures you wish to pray. It makes no difference which text is chosen, as long as you have no set goal of “covering” a certain amount of text. The amount of text covered is in God’s hands, not yours. Read. Turn to the text and read it slowly, gently. Savor each portion of the reading, constantly listening for the “still, small voice” of a word or phrase that somehow says, “I am for you today.” Do not expect lightning or ecstasies. In lectio divina, God is teaching us to listen, to seek him in silence. God does not reach out and grab us but gently invites us ever more deeply into his presence.

Ponder. Take the word or phrase into yourself. Memorize it and slowly repeat it to yourself, allowing it to interact with your inner world of concerns, memories, and ideas. Do not be afraid of distractions. Memories or thoughts are simply parts of yourself that, when they rise up during lectio divina, are asking to be given to God along with the rest of your inner self. Allow this inner pondering, this rumination, to invite you into dialogue with God.

Pray. Whether you use words, ideas, or images—or all three—is not important. Interact with God as you would with one who you know loves and accepts you. Give to God what you have discovered during your experience of meditation. Give to God what you have found within your heart.

It is not necessary to assess the quality of your lectio divina, as if you were “performing” or seeking some goal. Lectio divina has no goal other than that of being in the presence of God by praying the Scriptures.

—Fr. Luke Dysinger

Luke Dysinger, OSB, is a Benedictine monk of Saint Andrew’s Abbey, Valyermo, California.

Our God is an Awesome (and Enormous) God

   A new article in the journal Nature this week reveals the latest and largest discovery in the universe in quite some time. Scientists have found the biggest black holes known to exist, each one 10 billion times the size of our sun. A team led by astronomers at the University of California, Berkeley, discovered the two gigantic black holes in clusters of elliptical galaxies more than 300 million light years away. Described as "monstrous", by Berkeley astrophysicist Chung-Pei Ma, they are almost twice as large as the previously largest black hole. Dennis Overbye, science reporter for the NY Times, writes, "Black holes, regions of space where gravity is so intense that not even light can escape from it, are among the weirdest of the predictions of Albert Einstein’s curved-space theory of gravity, general relativity — so weird that Einstein himself did not believe it. He once wrote to a friend that there ought to be a law of nature forbidding such a thing." That is dark and that is large.

   Black holes define complete darkness. The message of the season of Advent, on the other hand, is the light of Christ that enters the world to drive out the darkness from among the world and the souls of women and men. That is precisely how John's Gospel begins. But, I cannot get over how large that is: 10 billion times larger than our sun.

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   Sara Renner's senior lecture recital last week at Columbus State's Schwob School of Music was really well done. I was joined by a group from Epworth and we were all impressed. The first half featured Sara teaching on the history, impact, and theory of her chosen piece of music, followed by her performance of it. At the break in between, I turned to those around me and said, "We have witnessed the truth of God. For just when we thought we knew it all, or at least a lot, we sit and listen to an entire lecture on a subject that we nothing about!" We were all  blown away. In that moment God was reminding me, through this gifted musician and friend, that I am very small and God is not. 

   God captivates me with song and with size. If a black hole is that large, then how much larger is the God who can not only conceive of it...but with just a word create it? Advent calls us to prepare for the coming of the One who is light and life. May we delight at such a thought!