I'm writing this on the first day of Advent. The origins of Advent are a bit misty, originating in the early Catholic church. As with most things in churchianity of all types and denominations, the history and reason for the Advent observance is fraught with conflicting theories, opinions and ideas.
There's another "advent" though that has been asking for my attention lately. That is, the advent associated with the angel appearing to Mary to announce the coming of Christ. The angel's first words to Mary are "Don't be afraid..." (One reference is Luke 1:30.) I think it's also worth noting in passing that the angel says to Joseph, "Don't be afraid to take Mary as your wife..." (Matt 1:20).
There's an old joke that Mary was the perfect Jewish mother in that she was the mother of a doctor, her son was born to her while she was still a virgin and she thought her boy was the son of God.
The admonition to Mary to not be afraid though I think is both for the moment and also serves as a foreshadowing of the future. Indeed, to be Jesus' mom was a tall mountain to climb. Beginning with conception and birth circumstances, continuing on through child rearing, carpentry, at some point probably single motherhood, ministry, death and resurrection. And the opening words by the messenger of God to Mary are, "Don't be afraid." It seems that Mary takes the angel's words to heart, as she goes off to celebrate what has happened with her cousin who is experiencing a lesser yet still related miracle.
Years later, we see Jesus at the age of 12 teaching in the temple. Mary and Joseph are a little frantic at Jesus' apparently not being where they expected him to be. Eventually they find him and when they ask the 1st century equivalent of "What do you think you're doing?" he says, "Don't you not know that I have to be about my father's business?" The bible says they thought about that some. The bible doesn't say but I suspect that there was also a generous portion of, "Huh. Okay. Now...go - get - on - the - MULE!" or like construct. Because at this point our creator and God was fully manifest as one of us. Mary, perhaps of all people in history understood this then and understands this now more completely than any other human soul.
At the wedding feast at Cana, the tide is turned somewhat. Mary says, "Jesus, they're all out of wine. Do something." Jesus says, "Now's not my time." The bible doesn't record all of the next bit exactly like this but I can imagine Mary arching one eyebrow a bit, looking God square in the face and saying to everyone else there, "Do what he says to do", all the while talking directly to Jesus. The subtext of course is, "And he WILL be doing what his mother requires that he do." And amazingly, he (that is, God) actually does as she requires in that moment. God abandons whatever concept of what "his time" is and chooses instead to honor his mom's wish of the moment. I think I'm on pretty safe ground to say he loved her and respected her...as his mom. I can't think of another time when Jesus performed a miracle in response to a demand for one.
I want to fast forward to a less pleasant occasion. Mary, was witness to the cross. John 19:27 says roughly that Jesus, knowing he was not going to be around to fulfill his duties as a son, spoke to one of the disciples to the effect of, "Please take care of my mom." It's hard to say why Jesus didn't call on his brothers but regardless, some of his last words concerned the ongoing care of his mom.
"Don't be afraid..." Truly, Mary had much reason to fear. I do not doubt that she had bad moments. I know she wasn't perfect. Still though, the bible records that she was indeed a loving, faithful and in-charge mom.
Jesus is the reason for Christmas. Those of us who are protestant though tend to overlook his mom. Those who are Catholic tend to diminish her humanity. Taken as a real flesh and blood person though, she was amazing. I don't know if there's another person in the bible who teaches more completely with the warp and woof of her very life what it means when God tells us, "Don't be afraid."
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
Fire
I've been spending some time with the past lately. TV has finally worn me down and I now find it unbearable much more often than I used to. There's a line in a David Byrne song that says "Fighting fire with fire." In context, I think he might be talking about quenching our imagination with the "fire" of T.V. That's not a good thing.
As a result, I've gone off to Google images to review some of the images from my younger days that I haven't seen in a great many years and that I very much miss.
There are a few of these but I think the one that has drawn me in to the greatest extent is the Owens Valley section of U.S. 395. During most of my growing up, this area was a gateway to other places, as well as being an end in itself.
In terms of it's own destination, it was a way station. Lone Pine, Independence and Bishop all saw us stop for food, ice cream or to spend the night. In terms of a gateway, it was pure magic. After the valley, which includes Mt Whitney on the Western side, you run into the Bristle Cone Pines, Mammoth Lakes and surrounding area, Tioga Pass, Bodie, Mono Lake and eventually the eastern slope of the Cascades.
We never stopped at what is probably the southernmost point in the valley. This is a place called Little Lake. There was an old hotel and restaurant there that burned down in 1998. It had been there since the 30's and showed the signs of age. It was always fascinating to drive by though because it had a little tower structure on top of it...for absolutely no discernible reason. The owner couldn't get any of the fire departments in the area to respond to his call. Gotta be a story there.
One night, we went to dinner at the north end of Bishop at the VFW. The VFW was right off of 395, plainly visible from the road. (I've never understood the fraternal/commercial dynamic of the VFW.) My mom was married then and the VFW had band playing. It was actually quite a nice restaurant. I remember that my mom and her husband danced. I was about 10 at that point and I remember thinking how wonderful everything seemed.
Years later after the divorce, we went through that area again and the saw that the VFW had burned. The burned carcass of the building hung around a couple years until it was bulldozed. It's now impossible to see where it was. Fire's taken a few Owens Valley landmarks.
Fire's also an illuminating and cleansing thing. I have an old picture for which I'm keeping an eye out for. When I was a teenager, I saved my shekels and bought a 35mm SLR. In experimenting with the camera while we were camped at Mammoth Lakes, I used a self timer and a timed exposure to take a picture of my mother and myself staring into a camp fire. (I'd have included it here if I could find the thing.) In the picture, the fire is quite bright and we appear as colored shadows.
Fire can be either destructive, purifying or both. Fire takes much of our past but that's a good thing. If our past is bad, it's great that it's in the past and done. If our past is good, it's a springboard to what's beyond. Ultimately, it's who we're riding with through time that determines whether the effect of the fire on us is destructive or beautiful. The short version of this is that if we let Christ drive and throw a bunch of other people in the car that think he's going to take us someplace amazing, then the fires of time and circumstance destroy our broken pasts are wonderful.
These are the fires that can light our nights, defining us in their reflection and warming us. The past is gone. Camp fires and sweeping forests streaming down off high mountains wait for us up ahead.
As a result, I've gone off to Google images to review some of the images from my younger days that I haven't seen in a great many years and that I very much miss.
There are a few of these but I think the one that has drawn me in to the greatest extent is the Owens Valley section of U.S. 395. During most of my growing up, this area was a gateway to other places, as well as being an end in itself.
In terms of it's own destination, it was a way station. Lone Pine, Independence and Bishop all saw us stop for food, ice cream or to spend the night. In terms of a gateway, it was pure magic. After the valley, which includes Mt Whitney on the Western side, you run into the Bristle Cone Pines, Mammoth Lakes and surrounding area, Tioga Pass, Bodie, Mono Lake and eventually the eastern slope of the Cascades.
We never stopped at what is probably the southernmost point in the valley. This is a place called Little Lake. There was an old hotel and restaurant there that burned down in 1998. It had been there since the 30's and showed the signs of age. It was always fascinating to drive by though because it had a little tower structure on top of it...for absolutely no discernible reason. The owner couldn't get any of the fire departments in the area to respond to his call. Gotta be a story there.
One night, we went to dinner at the north end of Bishop at the VFW. The VFW was right off of 395, plainly visible from the road. (I've never understood the fraternal/commercial dynamic of the VFW.) My mom was married then and the VFW had band playing. It was actually quite a nice restaurant. I remember that my mom and her husband danced. I was about 10 at that point and I remember thinking how wonderful everything seemed.
Years later after the divorce, we went through that area again and the saw that the VFW had burned. The burned carcass of the building hung around a couple years until it was bulldozed. It's now impossible to see where it was. Fire's taken a few Owens Valley landmarks.
Fire's also an illuminating and cleansing thing. I have an old picture for which I'm keeping an eye out for. When I was a teenager, I saved my shekels and bought a 35mm SLR. In experimenting with the camera while we were camped at Mammoth Lakes, I used a self timer and a timed exposure to take a picture of my mother and myself staring into a camp fire. (I'd have included it here if I could find the thing.) In the picture, the fire is quite bright and we appear as colored shadows.
Fire can be either destructive, purifying or both. Fire takes much of our past but that's a good thing. If our past is bad, it's great that it's in the past and done. If our past is good, it's a springboard to what's beyond. Ultimately, it's who we're riding with through time that determines whether the effect of the fire on us is destructive or beautiful. The short version of this is that if we let Christ drive and throw a bunch of other people in the car that think he's going to take us someplace amazing, then the fires of time and circumstance destroy our broken pasts are wonderful.
These are the fires that can light our nights, defining us in their reflection and warming us. The past is gone. Camp fires and sweeping forests streaming down off high mountains wait for us up ahead.
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