First Week of Advent

 Advent 1

Guest Writer Karen Dubert

“Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness,

and put on the armour of light,

now in the time of this mortal life

in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility.”—Book of Common Prayer, Collect p. 211.

Advent One

Give us grace to cast away

the things designed to lead astray,

the things that of necessity

distract our hearts most easily,

grace to loosen and release

what makes us yearn to live at ease:

the thoughts which thoughtless hearts beset

and lead down paths of word-regret.

To cast away the works of dark

that damage soul and dim the spark

of Image faint we should reflect;

instead we manage to connect

and cling to comfort, rights and will:

ragged blankets to cover self,

words and phrases all designed

to justify “what’s mine is mine”.

I read these words on Advent One

and passed them blithely over.

What works of darkness have I done?

this prayer is for the other.

But later in the afternoon

a different light shone through them.

grace to cast away gives room

and space to welcome heaven.

Karen Dubert

Joanna Seibert.   joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Remembering December 1st, Rosa Parks Remembrance Day

Remembering December 1st, Rosa Parks Remembrance Day

“For those of you who have fallen into a level of cynicism, thinking that we “cannot” and “nothing will work,” let me tell you something about when you get up... in the morning of December first. That means nothing to you, but let me break it down because you should shout every December first. December 1 was the day … Rosa Parks sat down so you could stand up.

When you get up this morning, you say, “God, I thank you for Rosa. That she could sit down so I could stand up.” And only God can teach you to do two things that sound contradictory at the same time, that she sat down and stood up at the same time. We must make our history sacred.”—Otis Moss III, Blue Note Preaching in a Post-Soul World: Finding Hope in an Age of Despair (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015), 96–97, 102.

Richard Rohr introduced us to Otis Moss and his writings about how African Americans have a unique way of holding the tension between hope and despair. In the fall of 2014, shortly after the shooting of Michael Brown and weeks of protests in Ferguson, Missouri, Rev. Dr. Moss preached about the tensions of being a Black American of faith and racism in our country.

“ Being Black means you are born with a Blues song tattooed on your heart, and at the same time, you still have a Gospel shout that is welling up in your soul about to come out.

Another way to say it is that we live with repression and revelation, simultaneously swimming in the same tributary of our spirit. There is nothing more confusing to the postmodern personality, to the millennial sojourner, than to have to exist between the strange life of dealing with your Blues and Gospel all the time: madness and ministry, chaos and Christ. My father heard an elder in Georgia say it this way. When he asked her, ‘How are you doing, Mother?’ she said, ‘I’m living between Oh Lord and Thank you, Jesus.”’

“The Gospel and the Blues,” Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation, January 18, 2024.

Joanna Seibert. joannaseibert.com. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Slowing Down in Advent by Reading Stories

A Dog in the Manger

“’ I want to put Jesus in the manger!”

You did it last year. It’s my turn.”

No, I’m the oldest, I get to do it.”

Well, I’m the youngest, I think I should!”

Maggie grabbed the figure from Jack and accidentally dropped it face down on the hard floor.

“Now you’ve done it,” cried Jack.”’—Jim Simons, A Dog in the Manger and Other Christmas Stories (Rowman and Littlefield, 2015) p 1.

Jim Simons is an Episcopal priest who decides to write and tell a story for his Christmas Eve sermon every year, which eventually now births into this collection of Christmas sermons called A Dog in the Manger.   Simons reminds us that Jesus tells stories, and the birth narratives consist of two different stories told by two authors, Luke and Matthew. He reminds us that the Christmas season is a time to tell stories about our roots, parents, and grandparents, and our early lives.

Simon’s stories are entertaining and convey a profound, meaningful message of hope: Jesus’ birth signifies God’s love for each of us. The stories are fiction, but they are no doubt drawn from his life experiences. The book’s title comes from the first story about a puppy whose passion is traveling around town, and bringing home to his new owner, all the baby Jesuses from outdoor nativity displays.

  I bought the book a few years ago, when I was preaching more often, looking for material for Christmas sermons. I often preach about Christmas pageants, because I have been involved in so many of them. At least half of Simons’ stories are related to these dramas that consistently add new and unexpected incarnational wisdom to Christmas.

This past year, I have been reading many spiritual nonfiction writings in preparation for this book and two others. As Advent approaches, I know I have been hungry for stories, and serendipitously, this book appears in my stack for Christmas. My goal has been to read at least one story or at least half a story a day, but I cannot put the book down most days. Indeed, perhaps one factor in this craving has been the months I have spent putting reading fiction on hold. A Dog in the Manger is precisely what I needed at the beginning of this liturgical year. I will share it with you if, by chance, you hear a similar call.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/