Advent, Day 27: Be joyful!

Today's reading: John 3:31-36
and of course: Luke 2

One of my favorite cds this season has been the Christian punk band Relient K's "Let it Snow Baby, Let it Reindeer" and the song "Merry Christmas; Here's to Many More." The very first line gets me, every time: "I made it through the year and I did not even collapse; gotta say, Thank God for that." And I think----no kidding.

And the chorus of the song also brings me to tears: "...it's finally Christmas and I'm home... and the closest friends I've ever known are all inside, singing together..." And I can't help but think how much I love being home with my boys. And how far away from home I feel, missing my "big" family. And how thrilled I am to get a phone message with familiar voices singing carols. And how much I hate not being there to sing along. And for every joy of this season, a heartbreak. And for every child's giggle, a momma's tear.

But isn't that just the way it goes? In life, not just as Christmastime.

And in life, not just at Christmastime, the Son of God comes. He brings light, and hope, and joy, and peace, and life. He brings us something to believe in, when everything around us falls flat. And he brings the Father's love to us, and walks the Father's way, and shows us the path to our home, our closest friends, our eternal family. So we can all sing together: Gloria in Excelsis! Joy to the World! Holy, Holy, Holy!

And Merry Christmas--here's to many more.


+++++++

Thanks for joining me on this Advent journey. It has been a challenge and a joy for me to work on this discipline throughout this season, and I appreciate all of you who have visited, read along, left comments, sent messages, shared my work with your friends.

As the new year begins I will be taking on another blogging/writing/scripture practice... but for now I'm resting and just beginning to think about what the next "job" will be. Please consider joining my blog as a follower if you'd like to come back when I begin again. Peace to you---and blessings for a Christmas season full of joy!

Advent, Day 26: Be a dreamer.

Today's reading: Matthew 1:18-25

tonight
sleep soundly
snug in your bed
and dream

dream a message from the Holy One (be not afraid)

dream a different life than you'd imagined

dream a way to change the world

dream a renewal of your dearest relationships

dream a chance to fulfill your calling

dream a future for your family

dream a gift of love given to all the world

dream a comfort for the afflicted

dream a joy for the mourning

dream a peace on earth

Advent, Day 25: Be outspoken.

Today's reading: Luke 1:67-79

come Holy Spirit,
fill my heart with the hope
of generations;
compel me to pronounce praise
to the God of promises,
God of the covenant,
God of faithful
fulfillment

come Holy Spirit,
fill my head with the light
of understanding;
pour out of my lips in praise
to the God of salvation,
God of mercy,
God of new life and life
everlasting

come Holy Spirit, (as you did to Zechariah)
fill my soul with the breath
of freedom;
flow from me in outspoken praise
to the God of deliverance,
God of holy light,
God who leads us on the way
of peace

Advent, Day 24: Be dedicated.

Today's reading: Luke 1:57-66

"What then will this child be?" (v. 66)

on this day
this birth day
make your way
into this bright and broken world,
scream, cry out, wail,
be fed;
learn who loves you;
find your family waiting

on this day
this dedication day
lay claim
to the heritage that is yours
(if not your father's name,
then his faithfulness;
if not your mother's people,
then her prayers)

on this day
this naming day
begin to become
who you are meant to be:
preparer, builder,
preacher, baptizer,
disciple, leader,
radical, kin

Advent, Day 23: Be blessed.

Today's reading: Luke 1:39-45

I have come to believe that we don't do enough blessing in our lives today. Yes, we do things that might be intended or interpreted as blessings--we offer kindnesses, say encouraging things, help when help is needed. But we don't often specifically bless someone, not in the sense of literally saying the word. And we "bless the food" at dinnertime by offering up a thank-you prayer to God, but, again, the "blessing" is not so much literal as just a type of prayer.

I grew up marking the days of Hanukkah at this season, just as my dad did with his father, who was Jewish. I didn't know it at the time but the prayer--no, the blessing--spoken over the menorah became part of my own mental prayerbook: Blessed art Thou, O Lord Our God, King of the Universe, who hast kept us in life and sustained us and enabled us to reach this season. I can hardly help but incorporate the "Blessed art Thou" formula into my writings and prayers.

Since then I've learned more about the Jewish tradition of blessing; the springtime Passover festival includes blessings for bread and wine and handwashing and bitter herbs and pretty much everything else that happens around the table. In fact, the whole Jewish year--the whole Jewish life--is marked by blessings. Literal, actual, use-the-word blessings.

This is what Elizabeth was doing with her young cousin Mary: living into this long tradition of offering blessing to others, and to God. This text is such a powerful example of the relationship between women, both of whom were experiencing God's activity in highly unusual ways. (How's that for an understatement?) But what I find really interesting about this story is that it is a powerful example of the importance of blessings. Elizabeth's blessing of Mary and her baby functions as a prayer, but also as a commission, as an affirmation, and as a commitment: a commitment to the relationship that exists, and the relationship that was growing in the wombs of the two women. Blessing doesn't happen all alone. It happens only in relationships: between people, and between us and God.

Surely Elizabeth and Mary, both newly pregnant, both carrying children who would become men of God in ways the mothers could not begin to understand, must have leaned heavily into their relationships with Yahweh. And prayed:

Bless the Lord,
o my soul;
and all that is within me
bless God's holy name!
(Psalm 103:1)

Advent, Day 22: Be not afraid.

Today's reading: Luke 1:26-38

notes to self:
be not afraid...

... to welcome holy messengers

... to be honest about your fears

... to open your heart to an unknown path

... to go against the grain

... to ask the obvious questions

... to play your part

... to turn to your friends

... to let something new grow inside

... to believe the impossible

Advent, Day 21: The True.

Today's reading: 1 John 5:20

God,

you came to give the gift of
understanding

help me to understand
what I need to understand
(and let go
the things I never will)

you came to give the gift of
knowledge

help me to know
who you are
and who I am in you

you came to give the gift of
truth

help me to set down the shackles
of the deceptions I choose
and to rejoice
in the freedom of
your faithfulness

you came to give the gift of
eternity

help me to
begin living it
now

amen.

Advent, Day 20: Living Water

Today's reading: John 4:7, 9-11, 13-15

You
ask me
for a drink of water

what am I supposed to say?
it's not the right question
(you shouldn't ask me, anyway;
an exile,
a woman,
a sinner)
so I don't know the right answer

You
ask me
if I wouldn't rather have
Living Water

what am I supposed to say?
thanks but no thanks?
because I'm happy with the painful drought
of my life? because I
love the whispers and stares
of the gossips,
love the loneliness of this well?

so I give you a drink of water--
and you offer me liquid Life

I only wish my humble gift were
abundant enough to
quench your thirst
when you will need it most

Advent, Day 19: For all we know.

Today's reading: Matthew 24:36-39, 44

... they will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. Concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. (verses 30 & 36)

For all that we can learn, discover, and experience of God, this one big thing is simply not given for us to know. And thank goodness for that!! Remember the old Schoolhouse Rock slogan "knowledge is power"? There are times when I am profoundly grateful that God has kept some information private. It is frightening to imagine how our power-hungry culture would use (abuse) such knowledge.

It's amusing, in a way, actually... we go so overboard at this time of year to celebrate the day he arrived the first time around... can you imagine what we'd be doing if we had a countdown calendar to mark off the days til his return?

Presumably, rather than decorating trees and wrapping gifts, our preparations would take a different tack. Would we be getting our own acts together, reassuring ourselves that we've been (at least mostly) not naughty, but nice? Would we be making our "to do" lists of confessions and forgivenesses, and checking them twice?

Or would we be darting around our world, like teenagers who hear mom and dad's car in the driveway, when the house is trashed after a wild party? Trying to clean up the mess we've made, trying to show that we really are responsible enough to be left home alone? Desperate to prove that we have taken care of our siblings, kept the place clean, finished our homework...?

Thankfully, we have not been given that deadline to count down to. And thankfully, God is grace-full and forgiving, and, I'm sure, understood fully what he was doing when he left the kids in charge down here. No doubt there are times we exceed his expectations, and other times when we completely blow it... and until he does return, we'll keep doing it over and over.

But in this season, when the observance of Christ's birth is so concrete, so expected, and very nearly commonplace, we are reminded that the Advent we experience is not just a symbolic rememberance of his first coming, but also a commitment to eagerly await his return, and to do our best to be ready for it... whenever it is.

Advent, Day 18: Counting Christmases; and Abiding?

Today's reading: 1 John 4:13-16

You know those days when the things racing through your mind seem to be mostly questions??

This is one of those days for me. What is my body doing? (Not acting like it always has... is something changing?) How will my kid do with changes at school? (People move on; it's just that usually, it's US, not his teachers and friends.) Where is the baby's favorite dog toy?? (Okay, I ask this one a lot; Dog-Dog is often lost...)

And today's reading at Following the Star raises a big one in my mind: What on earth is it like to abide?

It occurred to me a week or so ago that this is my third year doing Shimelle's Journal Your Christmas class... and, in those three years, we have celebrated Christmas in three different homes. (Question: Is it any wonder that, even though I love this season, I find it to be fraught with anxiety and loneliness?) Today, as I read this scripture and thought about what it means to abide, I did some math: since the year 2000, we have celebrated Christmas in 8 different homes. Not just visiting, but places we lived... except one year, when we were literally in the middle of moving and didn't have a place we lived. (Question: Where is "home for the holidays"?) What's more, since we got married in very late December 1995, we have celebrated Christmas living in 11 different homes. That's 11 out of 13 Christmasses, including this one. (Question: Where is "home," period?)

Perhaps I should be encouraged that God's version of abiding has more to do with eternal things than temporal things, since my experience of abiding is (apparently) minimal. But one of the things that I think is true about us, about humans, is that our human, temporal, earthly experience directly relates to how we understand who God is and what God is doing in us and in the world. I think this is why Jesus's parables and metaphors worked so beautifully---when he talked about losing a sheep or a coin, when he talked about a woman cleaning up the house, when he talked about being bread/light/shepherd, it worked because people could understand him because they understood those things. Those earthly, temporal, real-life experiences spoke to them (us) quite clearly about the holy, about the eternal, about the Real.

So I can't help but wonder, Who am I to try to say anything about abiding? What do I know about it? I relate so much more to the stories of the Hebrew people, wandering around, moving slowly in the general direction of an eventual promised home.

Answer (not, perhaps, the one and only answer... but, for now, at least, an answer): That it's not just about where I abide, but it is also about God abiding in me. Now this is something I can work with; the wandering Hebrews were even able to do this, carrying the tabernacle with them everywhere they went. Setting up God's place in the middle of every encampment, in the center of their community and personal lives all along the way. Which begs yet another question: What might it look like in my own life, and in my family's life, if we became more intentional about how we signify God's abiding with us?

And now that I think of it, there's another possible answer: That maybe I can better understand God's abiding, and mine, if I think of it not as an expansion of my experience, but as a reversal, an alternative. Sort of a "do" to my "don't" (or a "have" to my "have not"). Maybe, for some of us, abiding is a promise as well as a command. Maybe for all of us, in fact, because in one way or another we are all transient. Our bodies change, our families change, our friendships and marriages change, our permanent addresses change. Life is change, and we are all moving forward (or sometimes backwards, or sideways), in the general direction of a promised Home.

Thanks be to God.

Advent, Day 17: What we shall be.

Today's reading: 1 John 3:1-2

In case you're wondering where I was yesterday... I was here, but my computer was taking a mental health day, apparently. We're back in biz today, after a full day of running virus scans and putting my superhero powers (not; more like dumb luck and sheer desperation) to work against the evil forces of spyware and trojans. A couple of system-restores later, and the ol' laptop seems good to go.

Something important happened to me, though, which was that I realized that I was really tired!! Writing these posts has been an incredible practice for me; I have never in my life written ANYthing for fifteen days in a row. It feels good, I'm mostly pleased with what I have put "out there" so far, but when I was forced to step away yesterday it occurred to me that maybe I should be giving myself a break now and then. I actually spent the evening talking to my husband (imagine that!); typically after dinner is the only time I have all day when I can sit and listen and put my heart and mind and fingers to work.

It raised some issues that I am going to have to deal with, as I consider whether or how to continue a practice like this after Advent. I'll need to evaluate (again, and again) my priorities, my time allowances, the appropriate level of commitment and energy to allot to all the things I need and want to do. And which ones are "needs" and which are "wants," after all? Sometimes the delineation is not so clear...

So I considered going "back" to cover yesterday's reading (hello, Ms. Type A, nice t' see ya) but remembered (again) that this is not homework, not graded, and will not be counted against me if I am absent once or twice. Instead I am moving on to today's text on Following the Star, and as soon as I read the text I was so glad I made that call! What a gift it is:

See what kind of love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God.

Yes! But especially this:

...what we will be has not yet appeared, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

The New King James Version says it this way: it has not yet been revealed what we shall be.

I feel such an overwhelming sense of relief at this truth... that (as with the whole purpose of Advent) we are not meant to be completed in this world and in our own time, but to be on the way, growing, becoming, so that when his Kingdom breaks through, and in the fullness of his Time, we can be revealed in him. I don't need to feel anxious that I don't know what or who I will be at some future, "finished" point, because that person, that self has not yet been revealed.

It puts all my questions into perspective. In fact, it gives me a context to help me ask better questions. Not: how do I find time to do everything I want to do? But: where am I truly being called? where am I growing? how do I best care for the resources, gifts, talents he has given me (including my husband and children; my physical body; my words; my art...)?

Not: who will I be when I grow up?

But: how will he be revealed in me? by the kind of parent that I am? the kind of spouse? the words I string together? the foods that I put in my mouth, and the ways I put muscle and bone into action?

What an incredible kind of love God must have for us, to call us his children. To want the best for us, to see us well and happy and thriving. To be interested and excited to see how we will turn out, who we'll become.

I am amazed to think that God, like all parents, looks at us and tries to discern the ways we "take after" him!

"It is good to be children sometimes," wrote Charles Dickens, "and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty Founder was a child himself." It is, perhaps, even better to be children in Advent (as we are always, always in Advent), looking and hoping and waiting for the coming Christ to be revealed in this world. And in us.

Advent, Day 15: In my prayers.

Today's reading: Ephesians 1:16-21

I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers, that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ... may give you a spirit of wisdom... that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you... (Eph. 1: 16, 17a, 18b)

What more can I say to you, friends of my heart; you who have, this year, had your hearts broken, your dreams undone? Who have had the most wrenching goodbyes demanded of you? Who have had to choose another path, who cannot see the way forward from here?

What more can I say than this: that you are at this and every moment in my heart, and on my lips in prayer. That I ask our God, the God of Grace and Glory, to give you the wisdom of His Spirit, and the vision of His heart. That you will be able to lift up your eyes to look toward the coming Christ, and that you will recognize in Him the Bread you crave, the Light you seek, the Shepherd you trust, the Vine where you abide, the Way you go.

In this season of yearning, what more can I say than this: that I pray you may know, not just in Advent but always, that He has called you--He has called us--to hope. Hope in what we cannot see from here: that new Life is waiting to be born into a world that is reeling with constant sorrows. That Life is change: the revolution of our planet, the reformation of our expectations, the revelation of our becoming. That Life has "immeasurable power" over death, over pain, over distance, over time.

What more can I say than this: I do not ever cease to give thanks for you. Never.

Advent, Day 14: Way. Truth. Life.

Today's reading: John 14:6-7

the Way
is marked by miracles--
bread, fish, wine, vision, life--
all for the sake of us
being fed, welcomed,
sighted,
abundant

the Truth
is, people matter
more than money-changing
more than the law
more than the culture
(yes, even today)

the Life
he lived,
growing in his mother's womb
growing up in his daddy's workshop
growing up in his Father's House
instilled in him
the prayers of the people
the pilgrim songs
the promises of Yahweh:

the Way to redemption
the Truth of freedom
the Life everlasting

Advent, Day 13: Baby names.

Today's reading: John 15:1-8

I am the vine; you are the branches. (John 15:5)

This text is still a favorite of mine after spending a year of women's ministry exploring it during our time in London several years ago. I could go on and on about it... our vineyard field trip, traipsing through the vines on a hillside in rural England, learning how and why the vinegrower would prune, and what would influence the quality and flavor of the fruit (and then sampling some of the resulting wines--for educational purposes only, of course). And one of our craft activities, making thumbprint grape clusters with every member of our group represented in the print, a wonderful visual reminder of the community abiding in Christ.

But tonight the correlation between the vine and the Advent season seems elusive. (Maybe I'll come back to this when something earth-shattering occurs to me!)

But after this week of "I am" texts at Following the Star, what strikes me is what a vast array of identities that little baby in the manger was called to assume. When we were choosing names for our children, the meaning of names was really important to me... I wanted my sons' names to have good definitions and good stories behind them. Mary and Joseph didn't have to buy baby naming books; they were handed their child's name: little Emmanuel or Jesus (Yeshu'a, a shortened form of the name Joshua, which means "Yahweh is our salvation") had plenty to live up to in his God-given name.

Mary and Joseph could not possibly have known that their little son would grow into his name, "God With Us," by defining in himself the many ways that God is with us. In a distinct echo of God's self-definition to Moses, Jesus lived into the "I AM"-ness of Yahweh. He didn't just become like... He Became, full stop. He Is Word (creation, wisdom), He Is Bread (nourishment, life), He Is Light (truth, glory), He Is the Good Shepherd (protecting, guiding), He Is the True Vine (abiding, fruit-bearing).

Mary and Joseph could not have known how important all his names would be to his role as God's Self on earth, and to peoples' understanding of his life and ministry. These most common items, endowed with holy purpose by One who came in to the world by holy means, yet in the most common way.

It seems like a lot to live with for a tiny Christmas baby... but in one life's journey from the manger to the tomb--to the risen Son--to the eternal Christ--it is all absolutely imperative. It is imperative that the God who is With Us Still be as familiar to us as the most everyday elements of our being... and it is imperative that the God Who Saves Us Still be as good, as gracious, and as glorious as the very Source of all being.

During this season of Advent, may we abide with the One who came to earth to walk with us, and who is with us still in every step we take. May we live up to our own naming as his beloved children.

Advent, Day 12: Sleepy. And sheepy.

Sorry--that is bad, I know. I'm just home from pottery class and have had a late dinner and am feeling crashed. Last night included too little sleep, and this day was full (of good things, but still not as laid-back as I might've liked after a short night). Anyway...

Today's reading: John 10:11-15

Now that I think of it, though, I kind of DO feel sheepy. (If my imaginings of what sheep must feel like are at all accurate.) During this season, unfortunately, it is so easy to get sucked in to the movement of the culture (the flock, if you will!) around us (generally moving in the direction of malls and toy stores). I catch myself doing it every year, and every year I intend to try harder to keep my focus in the right places and my mind and heart true to God's purposes of hope, peace, joy, and love in this season.

I also fall into the trap (is there such a thing as sheep traps? I doubt it...) of just kind of milling around, moving in the general direction of December 25, stopping now and then to take an interest in some passing thing, or sometimes just pausing to stare around randomly before I start moving again. I catch myself doing it every year, too, and every year I intend to try harder to pay attention, to be proactive and engaged in this journey toward Bethlehem, and to be an active participant in the yearning and longing for the presence of Christ in our world.

What a gift it is, then, to have a Good Shepherd who came to this earthly life for us, and who gave his earthly life for us! Who guides us, as individuals and as a whole beloved flock, to the greenest pastures and the stillest waters. Who knows us (a topic for another day, the value of being truly known) and who wants us to know him.

May we, sheepish as we are, hear him calling our names through the clamour of this season, and may we follow his gentle leading through the dangers and distractions of our world.

Advent, Day 11: And about light.

Today's reading: John 8:12

dining by candlelight
glittering with twinkle lights

led by starlight
shining with everlasting light

once again the I AM
has defined himself
for our benefit
(a little help here:
give us things we understand,
like bread,
like light.
thank you.)

so we don't need to fear the dark
(he dispels dark)
we don't need to wander around blind
(he opens the eyes)
we don't need to question the way
(he lights our path)

come, o light
illumine us

Advent, Day 10: Just thinking about bread.

Today's reading: John 6:29-35

Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger..."

I am finally getting around to writing this at nearly 10 pm Tuesday night. When I pulled up the Following the Star site earlier this evening and saw the scripture for today, I very nearly laughed out loud. My task list today: Make cookies for a little decorating party at our house tomorrow morning. Write out some favorite recipes for part of a Secret Santa gift. Watch "The Biggest Loser" finale. So...... whoever comes to him shall not hunger, huh?

Huh.

At this tired time in my day, at this fun, crazy, foodie season, at a stage in my life when food (especially carbs!) is an issue... what strikes me first about this passage is all that Jesus did NOT say... all that bread isn't.

Bread isn't cakes, cookies, chocolate muffins, piles of pasta. Bread isn't treats (not that there's anything wrong with treats ;) ).
But bread is life. Bread is important, even necessary. Bread is sustenance, health. Bread is earth, and bread is body.

Bread isn't scarfing down lonely loaves, filling up time and emotion.
Bread is community. Bread is sharing, gathering around tables, breaking and passing around and nourishing one another.

Bread isn't entitlement. Bread isn't "I've been good, so I deserve..." Bread isn't temptation in a basket.
Bread is a gift of grace, an elemental product of God's good and beloved creation. Bread is worthy of blessing: Blessed art Thou, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth.

Now, I know that Jesus was speaking metaphorically here in John's Gospel. I know that the Living Bread nourishes souls, spirits, selves..... stomachs, maybe not so much (but who's to say?). I know that the bread of his body, broken for each of us, signifies our connection with one another, our thanksgiving for God's goodness, our remembrance of his sacrifice, our taking his life into us so we can live for him.

So. It's 10:30 pm now. And what's the point? (Do I know? I don't know...) How 'bout this for now:

God, fill me with the Bread that reaches beyond the body to meet the hungerpangs of my soul.

God, fill me with the Bread that reaches out to others, so I may share your bounty.

God, fill me with the Bread that reaches through my barriers and compels me to blessing.

Living Bread, make me hungry no more.

Advent, Day 9: The Word.

Today's reading: John 1:1-18

in the beginning of life
was the Word:
hand in hand with eternal God
at play with creation, existence, and
language itself
fashioning the world
as it rolled off holy tongues
in nouns and verbs
(wave, roll
bird, fly
lion, roar
human, love)

in the beginning of the story
was the Word:
carved onto tablets,
traveling in tent and tabernacle,
spoken aloud around campfires
and in congregations
from generation to generation
(and later whispered in homes
and hidden rooms,
enscribed into epistles and
composed into hymns--
for who could help but
sing that wondrous story?)

in the beginning, at the cross,
was the Word:
the last word,
which death no longer possessed

in the beginning of us
was the Word:
who knew and named us
before we ever took a breath
in this world he created--
who came in flesh and bone
to be with us
(as he was with God)
to be
us
(as he was
God)
whose glory glows in darkness
(a candle, a star, the rising sun)

the Word, grace;
the Word, truth:
eternal flame
against chaos
against wilderness
against death

come, O Word of God,
O Word, God,
shine.

Advent, Day 8: God of my ancestors.

Today's reading: Exodus 3:13-15

Moses needed to know: When I go to Your people, what should I tell them if they ask Your name?

Not to the strangers, not to people who don't already know who You are. This congregation knows full well. They've been part of Your tribe all along, and they're no dummies. When I hatch this crazy plan (no offense) they're going to want to be sure it's coming from You. So what do You want me to say?

Tell them I AM WHO I AM. (Does that help? Ha.)

Tell the I AM vast, unknowable, mighty, overwhelming. And then tell them I AM close as breath, blood, bone, birth, love. Tell them I AM life itself, I AM story itself, I AM history and I AM future. Tell them I AM the life they inherited from their parents, the life they pour out into their babies. I AM the stories they tell around the dinner table, the bedtime stories they read to their children. I AM every day they can remember, and every moment they can only imagine. Tell them My Name is I AM, God of their fathers and mothers and grandparents and their whole towering family tree. This is My Name forever and ever, through all the generations who have gone before, and all who are yet to come.

. . . . . . . . .

God of my ancestors, I am one of those generations; those whom You commanded to remember. I am one of those generations, still trying to understand Who You Are. I am one of those generations, who learned You from my parents and grandparents, for You Are their God. I am one of those generations, telling Your stories to my children.

Summon me; send me; speak through me, so that Your people may still know Your Name.

Advent, Day 7: Silence.

Today's reading: Psalm 62:5-8

The theme at Following the Star this season is "be still and know..." (Psalm 46:10) so I guess it should stop surprising me that the topic of silence keeps coming up in the selected scriptures. Elijah heard God's voice, not in the thunder of an earthquake or the raging of fire, but in the stillness, the smallest whisper. Zechariah was forced into silence when his skepticism got the better of him.

Of all seasons of the year to try to practice the discipline of silence, surely this is the most challenging. Not only does noise seem to come along with the inherent busy-ness of the month (keyboards clicking, telephones ringing), and not only do the "sounds of the season" help set the tone for our celebrations (I'm partial to Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney), and not only do sounds themselves remind us of opportunities for generosity (think bell-ringers and red buckets)... but all this "noise" invades our minds and hearts as well as our physical space.

So... as my two (no, make that three, counting a husband) boys screech and laugh and growl as they play-wrestle on the living room floor, as cartoon tunes blare from the t.v., as my own fingers tap the keyboard, as I'm mentally list-making and meal-planning and replaying all the events of my day, I am painfully aware that there's a lot of noise I need to deal with. How do I "wait in silence" when the world around me is deafening? How do I "wait in silence" when it's my own voice I can't escape?

Will I be able to hear his gentle whisper, when I'm surrounded by uproar?

Will I be able to hear him only if I am rendered mute?