Advent: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Advent Wreath by Maureen Moffatt. Used with permission

            Advent is my favourite season of the church year, as we celebrate that joy-filled anticipation of the now-and-not-yet.

            There are many ways for this season to be honoured... and I don't mean the frenzied buying-wrapping-baking-cleaning of pre-Christmas prep.

            While consumerism seems to be creeping in to this anticipatory time, from calendars to candles to 'meditative countdowns', as Christians we are invited to retain our focus on daily preparing ourselves: not for one miraculous day, but for every miraculous day.

            As some traditions invite us to focus on a different theme each day or week, it becomes our privilege to carry the learning from that theme with us throughout the day and beyond. If, for example, a wreath encourages us to focus our attention on hope, faith, joy, and peace, then we can challenge ourselves to dig deeper into those symbolic meanings: not just 'where did I feel hope today' but 'how can I inspire hope in those around me' and 'why is hope important in my community'?

            The traditions that we have around us come from somewhere, and have evolved to mean much to us. Perhaps part of our journey can be to learn where these traditions came from, and what their purpose is; and then to discern how we can respond to the root of the symbol in meaningful ways for our lives today.

            After all, Advent is a season of expectation, not of what will be given to us, but of how we can engage with one another. It is in and through our interactions that we can share that anticipation and truth of the season. As we pray our O Antiphons asking our Lord Jesus to come soon, we put our prayers into action to demonstrate an eager and committed faith.

Community: On Purpose

"Community" CC BY-NC 2.0 by Thomas Hawk. Flickr

            Monday morning a friend emailed me: "I bet I know what you are doing next Sunday afternoon. Should be fun!"

            My under-caffeinated self quickly checked the calendar to find it empty. What had I forgotten?? Said friend just laughed when I asked her to elaborate - knowing I'm a sports fan, with deep roots in both Winnipeg and Hamilton, she logically surmised that the Grey Cup would be a BIG THING at the rectory. (Much to the dismay of most of my Hamilton and Winnipeg friends/family, I don't watch/follow North American football.)

            How lovely, though, to be thought of that way: to have someone care enough to reach out with kindness! The question really had little to do with football, and everything to do with connection. She knows about my hobbies, she knows about my roots, she knows me well enough to feel comfortable to send a quick note - even about football (which is not her preference, either!). It's lovely.

            It's part of being in Christian community; to care about one another and to take interest in each other. This relationship-building is how we get to know one another with depth and intentionality; so that we can be attentive to what is going on with each other.  And while comments like "I don't watch hockey, but I'm following how the [Winnipeg] Jets are doing" give a warm fuzzy, they also indicate a desire to connect. Not just at a level of sports and hobbies, but of who we are in the body of Christ.

            This is an intentional building up of the body so that we can be present in times of joy and sadness, in celebration and in difficulty. It's the foundation of knowing one another well enough to meet each other where we are, to be aware of opportunity to engage with each other's health of mind, body, and spirit. It's the root of communion: of making ourselves open to each other trusting that we are receiving the same level of companionship.

            So whatever our passtimes and passions, it is a gift to be known by others and to be know others, that we can respond in loving service to the body of Christ.

One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism: One Family of God

     During my recent holidays, I had the great pleasure of worshiping alongside my godson. It was the 10th anniversary of his baptism, and I was sat in the pew with family, I could see the font where that great sacrament had taken place.

     Inscribed in that font (as in so many others) is the scripture passage "one Lord, one faith, one baptism" and this seemed to touch my heart more profoundly that day, as I watched the Sunday school approaching the altar to receive their communion. For we are all brought together as God's family, nourished by the family meal. 

     I pondered my role in my little man's life:

In his everyday life, I am his Auntie (perhaps the greatest honour in my life!)

In his baptism, I am his Godmother, who has committed to nurture him in the faith.

In his communion, I am his sister in Christ, sharing in the foretaste of the heavenly kingdom. 

     In all things, we are connected; though our homes are far apart our souls intertwine: and this is a gift of God given freely for us all.

     One recent interpretation of youth-based statistics indicate that while most parents think their children should learn about faith, some 70% of them think that teaching the faith to their children is not their responsibility.* (This interpretation is under debate) While I disagree with that statement/sentiment, I also acknowledge that it is not the responsibility ONLY of the parents to teach the faith. For if we truly believe that we are one family through our baptism, and have agreed in our baptismal vows to support all who are baptised, then part of our vocation is to be the extended family involved in teaching the faith. 

      As I pray daily for my godson, and his family, and all of God's family: may our baptism equip us, may the Eucharist nourish us, and may our communities support us as we live in the family of God. 

* Statistics shared 06 nov 2019 on Twitter by @dougchaplin - Doug Chaplin, Discipleship and Lay Training Officer, Diocese of Worcester

A knock at the door

 

   One of the things I like about Halloween is watching the little guests meander from door to door, in the quest for candy.

     The tradition likely comes from the ancient Celtic ritual at Samhain, when as the harvest was brought in, people would wear disguises and seek food from their neighbours (often in return for a recitation of verse). 

     In this day and age, we seldom (if ever!) have turnips or potatoes handed out, but we still have the opportunity to extend great hospitality and kindness when a knock comes upon our door.

     I wonder if we would do the same if the knocker wasn't a fluffy unicorn or a fairy princess? Would we cheerfully pass over a sandwich to a hungry man, or a cup of juice to a passing child?

     I'm reminded of a time, many years ago, visiting with a friend in Tanzania. A knock at the door interrupted our conversation; a young boy passing by was thirsty. My friend simply went to the kitchen, filled a cup with drinking water, and waited as the boy drank his fill. He then thanked her and left, and our conversation resumed. 

"It's just what you do," she said to inquisitively raised eyebrow. "The child was thirsty, and everyone knows I have a  water filter."

     It was so basic, and so kind, and yet it caught me off guard; how many of my neighbours would know to knock on my door if they had a need? What did I have to offer? Would I be as open to sharing as I perhaps ought to be?

     At Halloween we eagerly respond to knocks at our doors with gifts of food, of our excess. I hope we carry that openness with us all year round, when we hear a knocking on our hearts, that we might again welcome the guests, share of our abundance, and thus help to build the community of God with hospitality and kindness.