Christmas Carols

In last month’s “Let Us Pray” Zoom session hosted by the Anglican Fellowship of Prayer, the Executive shared their favourite Advent or Christmas hymns, with a brief description of why those musical pieces were meaningful and prayerful to them. Our hymns spanned centuries, genres, and geography. It was a delight to have our National Director singing a few verses of each hymn (where copyright allowed).

My selection was “No Crowded Eastern Street” (Common Praise #129), for reasons both theological and personal. The lyrics began as a poem written in Winnipeg by Frieda Major in 1958; she later gave rights to her home parish (St. Luke’s, where I did my student internship). The music was written by Robert Fleming, who has roots in Saskatchewan, and is believed to have played at St. John’s (where I now serve as rector).

The hymn speaks of Christmas in the context of the prairies, which makes me feel at home - as I was growing up, we moved around quite a bit, and some of my formative years were spent on the prairies. I associate winter with a vast blanket of snow and equally vast sky. As an adult, Winnipeg is where my heart found home, and Manitoba brings my soul peace. This hymn encapsulates what it means for me to be home for Christmas.

I shared with the AFP gathering that the conjunctions in the hymn captivated my inner word-nerd. In verses 1 and 3, the poem conveys what the prairies lack at Christmas – a bustling eastern scene, camels, celestial choirs, etc. – “YET still to us is born tonight the child, the King of glory.”
The second verse describes the pastoral scene of uniquely Canadian setting, including the ubiquitous “great red barn” – “AND still to us is born tonight the child, the King of glory.”
The final verse then serves as equaliser for the whole human family, that whatever scenario one finds oneself in, we are brought together by the presence of Jesus: “in his presence all may stand with loving heart and willing hand; FOR still to us is born tonight the child, the King of glory.“

It’s a powerful carol, and I sing it every year. It reminds me that whatever life is like that year, home is still there: in the presence of the child, the embodiment of Love.

What’s your favourite carol? What seasonal hymns resonate for you?
Merry Christmas!

The Christmas Chameleon

I’ve had a number of encounters recently where people revealing their true selves… for good or not! There was a person who inadvertently revealed their deep misogyny, and a man who conceded that an appearance of abundance was more important than reality. There was also an individual who asked that a generous donation remain anonymous, and a woman who went well beyond her comfort zone to provide the best for her child.

Intentionally or not, people spend a lot of time revealing a lot about themselves. And this tends to happen while trying to blend in and be unnoticed – which reminded me of the common misperception of chameleons, as we used to think they changed colour to match that of the background.

For some, the holiday season will be a time where they won’t even think about being their authentic selves – for this is simply who they are, and how they interact in the world.

For some, it could be uncomfortable as they present different versions of themselves with different people. Folks who are deceitful or two-faced will be uneasy that family or friend groups may overlap, and uncover different variations of those people.

For others, the chameleon may be a necessary state, masking aspects of themselves that may be unwelcomed in their gatherings.

Identity is important; as is accepting the identity of those God has put into our lives. The gift of God's love should give us the confidence of be ourselves in the world, without camoflage. The gift of God's love should inspire us to be genuine in our welcome to all of God's people, creating and maintaining an environment where everyone is comfortable.

For those who only know acceptance, may they recognise the blessing and extend it to others.
For those who choose multiple personas, may they do the interior work to genuinely know themselves, and choose future social circles where they can engage without duplicity.
For those who feel need to keep their identities hidden, may they know the comfort of safe spaces where they can be their true selves.

And for all of us: may we be comfortable in our identity as children of God; may we realise and celebrate that God loved us all into life to be as we are; may we collectively seek ways to be safe space for everyone – where chameleon presentation will not be necessary.

Living Within Our Means

I recently got a credit card statement, showing that I owed $1. It got me thinking about living within my means! I do tend to be frugal when it comes to my spending, and I try to be generous with my savings. Partially, because I really don’t like paying interest if I don’t have to. I’ve also experienced times when the arrival of the credit card statement was cause for anxiety.

As we continue in the Pre-Christmas time, it’s not uncommon to discuss the importance of living within our means. We’re a capitalist society, and we seem to assign importance to the gift-buying season ahead.

Yet as we are also in Advent, the time of preparation, I ponder how we live within other means.
Are we being careful stewards with the other resources in our control? Are we being faithful in how we manage our time as we race towards the holiday? Have we considered how to expend our energy in the weeks of busy-ness ahead? Have we contemplated how to divvie up our spiritual care for self and others? Do we have a plan for our acts of generosity?

It is unfortunately not uncommon for us to run ourselves ragged at the holidays; we find ourselves indebted with these non-financial realities. We extend ourselves beyond our ability, which leaves us vulnerable. When we’re overextended emotionally, our shorter tempers get the better of us; a deficit in our energy means we are less likely to tap into the love we want to share and instead can be unintentionally offensive to those we’re closest to. We can find ourselves so depleted that we can’t be recharged from events and encounters that should be energising and enjoyable.

My proposal is that we try – at least a little bit – to live within our means. If we take time to pray and reflect, we can keep ourselves focused on the goodness that is in our midst, and engage in meaningful and appropriate ways. It’s okay for us to set limits in how much we give: of our funds, our time, ourselves. I would much prefer to spend time with people when I am able to give my best self; when I know what my capacity is (and isn’t), and when I am comfortable to respect that.

Living within our means takes practice, it’s not always easy, and others may not always understand it. But it is worthwhile, it is faithful, it is embracing what we have been given. It’s honouring the gift of love that we are receiving when we live authentically within that love.

Advent Avocados

Last summer, I was chatting with a dear friend about avocados. We were preparing a taco night with friends, and we are all fans of guacamole.

Avocados are a test of patience: you have to wait for *the* opportune moment.

You can’t rush it, and you can’t wait too long. (Sure, you can add heat to try and speed up ripening, or put them in the fridge to slow it down, but these are stop-gap measures)

Sure, there are hints for knowing that perfect moment (like denting in the nub at the top), but they are best guesses – the thick skin veils what’s going on inside.

Sometimes the flesh is still hard. And we all know that once it’s open you can’t seal it again. You can try to extend it with some citrus, but it’s going to go brown… faster than we want.

Sometimes, the flesh is already mushy – and even being mashed into guac, the taste of mushy avocado isn’t the taste you want in your guac.

Sometimes that pit is just way too big (and the fruit too small) to have waited so long.

Avocados are tricky.

Yet: that wonderful flavour and texture – for those of us who enjoy avocados, the journey is worth it.

Not unlike Advent: a time of waiting, of paying attention, of dwelling in expectation and hope.
Advent is also a time to realise that the opportune moment is always upon us, in ways that avocados can’t provide: for avocados are now-or-no; while Advent integrates the now-and-not-yet: Advent is not a time of no.

As we begin our Advent journey this Sunday, I hope that we find comfort and hope in the journey. Waiting, with hope, for the promise of Good News to come. As we wait, may we also find ways to bring Good News to those seeking it.

May our avocados be worth the wait; may our Advent be as fruitful as we can make it.