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Associate Dean of Religious Life, University of Southern California
« November 2012 | Main | January 2013 »
Posted at 04:21 PM | Permalink
O dear One
whose name is more than a name
whose power I cannot tame
O dear One
I look into the sky, brushed with streaks of pink and orange at the dawn
And am reduced to babytalk -- ohhhh, wow....
I gaze at mountain ranges, parapets of stone
And remember how puny is my place in the grand order of things.
O dear One, how can it be
that you, who with consummate skill cut the facets of the celestial gems
And burnished the alabaster moon,
would have bothered to fashion a creature such as myself,
with fickle faith, indigestion, cavitated molars, and the habit of repeating bad jokes?
How can it be that my kind can exist at all, trashing the earth and all its creatures with greed and lust?
Yet you gave me inner eyes that can see you beyond the clouds
You gave me a heart that is a compass aimed at your feet,
You gave me a mind that strives to reveal your every hiding place,
And you gave me a voice to say your name
which is something more than any other name, with a power I cannot attain.
Psalm 22
Oh, vacant sky! Oh, empty land!
Oh heart of mine, bereft of hope!
Why do I even bother crying? What's the use
Of even complaining? When there is no one to hear
And no one to see my tears?
Why wake at daylight, why sleep at night,
When there is no one to tell about the passage of my time,
the hands of the clock spinning like a vortex
Of water running down a sink.
Yet I find myself writing this lament, as if there was a You to read it.
I howl, as if there was a You to hear it.
I cry, as if there was a You to see my tears.
And so You must be holy
Because my despair itself is sacred--
It is holy because it is all I have left--
Everything else is dust.
My despair is precious because it is all that remains of my life
And there is no one else but You to whom I can express it.
To You I cry
As Israel cried to you from Egypt and from Auschwitz
As black slaves cried to you from the cotton fields of Mississippi
As the mentally ill cry to you from under their rags on the bus stop benches of urban America
To you I cry
As villagers cry to you from Chechnya
As refugees huddle in shelters from the storms of Orissa
But who am I to cry?
What is my despair worth? How do my miseries compare to the unspeakable sufferings of others? By what right do I complain?
Yet I feel a rush of warmth as I lift my lament to You
I feel your presence all around me,
As if I was a baby once again, surrounded by the sweetness of my mother's breasts
You were there then, to hear my infant cry
You are here now to hear my cry once more
Please, please stay, please comfort me --
Psalm 23
God is my personal consultant. I have it made. She lets me kick back and relax, knowing that with her guidance, everything will go smoothly. She gives me a much-needed boost. She tells me the right way to handle things -- and let's face it, she does it partly to preserve her own reputation so she can get more consulting jobs. God's on my side. Her advice, her connections, they comfort me. Even though my job is on the line, my family is mad at me, I'm way deep in debt, and I've got a dangerously high cholesterol level, I am not sweating any of it. She's calling a conference to work things out with everybody who is breathing down my neck, and she has a plan that will get me through it -- she has it greased, and I'm gushing with gratitude. Pain and heartache are ahead of me, but because of her, surely goodness and mercy will follow me -- so I'm extending her consulting contract with me indefinitely.
Psalm 63
O dear God, I love you!
I ache for you, my heart burns for you
and only you can quench this fire
only you can satisfy my desire
O sweet God, be on my lips
lightly brushing, then with the full force
Of my passion for your presence within me.
I lift up my hands to caress you
I can't get enough of you. Forlorn in my bed,
I dream only of you, my desire for you keeps me awake into the night,
this longing for you is better than sleep.
Your presence hovers over me, in your shadow I moan with joy.
I feel your grasp, I grasp at you, I gasp for you, dearest Lover God.....
Psalm 100
May the sounds of every city in every land--
the rush of traffic, the din of piledrivers
the hum of power lines, the roar of furnaces
the whine of pumps, the howl of the crowd
the patter of conversation, the rumble of tires--
harmonize into one sweet song of divine praise
that cancels cacaphony and synthesizes symphony.
May we take delight in doing the right,
May we not only pray, but sing our way
into the presence of God.
Let God alone be God: let us belong to God.
Let gratitude and delight usher us
Into the intimate presence of God
Let God alone be good, let God be known as Love
Let Love remain for good, forever.
Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to Diablo
looming over the bay, a diadem of gold and green
spreading its dun folds down to its urban skirts
I lift up my eyes to Tamalpais
a sharp jut of rock wrapped in chapparal
and wreathed in fog that burns away in summer sun
I lift up my eyes to Pedernal
black mesa lifted high above pinon forest
and red rock desert
holding up the grand sky of New Mexico
underlining ever-changing moods of color and shadow
I lift up my eyes to Whitney
a dark wall on the east side of the Sierra
the granite teeth of its peak catching the setting sun
that casts a faint effulgence over their shadows
I lift up my eyes to the Minarets
The cathedral ridge of Mount Ritter and Mount Banner
Spires and organ pipes in silhouette
Against a sky thick with stars.
I lift up my eyes to the hills
And see that there is something -- Someone --
infinitely more powerful and mysterious than I am
forcing them up from the plains
And I remember that this same Someone
creates and keeps me
and thrills me with this urge
to lift up my eyes to the hills.
Posted at 04:21 PM | Permalink
Liturgical Elements by Jim Burklo
Use freely with attribution
WORSHIP BEGINS
Just As You Are: A Progressive Christian Welcome
Call to Celebration
Hungry for meaning?
Welcome home.
Thirsty for purpose?
Welcome home.
Yearning for comfort?
Welcome home.
Burning for challenge?
Welcome home.
Ready for learning?
Welcome home.
Eager for serving?
Welcome home.
And welcome to worship at _______ Church.
Call to Worship
We are here to praise and enjoy God with body and soul, mind and heart, with song and word, with hands and feet.
We are here to give because of the abundance God has given us, to share with each other, and to receive, because God has created us to depend on each other.
We are here to celebrate the differences that otherwise might divide us: differences of age, of body, of culture, of opinion, of ability, of religious conviction.
We are here to put things in perspective: to celebrate what matters, to laugh about things we take too seriously, to cry about things that truly touch our hearts.
So may it be this morning: Amen!
A Credo for Progressive Christians
I worship and adore God,
source, essence, and aim of all things,
spirit that enlivens all beings.
I follow the way of Jesus, who found God in himself
and shared a way for others to find God in themselves.
He was born through love,
He lived for love,
He suffered for love,
He died for love,
But love never dies.
I submit myself to the leadings of the love that is God,
that I may be compassionate to all beings,
that I may live and serve in community with others,
that I may ask for and offer forgiveness,
that I may praise and enjoy God forever. Amen!
BAPTISM
Infant Baptism Ceremony
(The parents hold baby Cameron as their friends and relatives gather in a circle on the altar. The godparents hold the chalice of water.)
We are here to praise God for the life of Cameron, our young friend, who in such a short time has brought us so much joy. Through Cameron we have experienced birth again in a new and more conscious way; in him, God has created the world again, opening us to wonder and possibility that we had forgotten.
We live not for ourselves alone, but toward God and for each other. Our lives are bound in a covenant of love with Cameron. We baptize Cameron with our desire to show him a way of life that naturally displays love, respect, and justice. We baptize him with our intention to witness the unfolding of God’s creation as he grows and changes. We baptize him with our desire to be in God’s presence as we are in his presence. We baptize Cameron with our desire to see him grow in spiritual maturity, in wisdom, and in soulful service to others, following in the spiritual footsteps of the Christ.
Each of us here has a unique role in raising this beautiful child.
Do you, his parents, commit yourselves to raising him in a manner that inspires faithfulness, compassion, and spiritual growth? If so, say, We do. Do you, the family and friends of Cameron, commit yourselves to being a faithful community that will guide and support him through life? If so, say, We do.
The chalice holds water which comes from his grandparents home town in Germany, and it has been blessed by the pastor of her family’s church. To it is added water from the Pacific Ocean which defines so much of the landscape that surrounds Cameron today. This water represents the far-flung cultural wellsprings that will nourish Cameron throughout his life.
Let us each touch the water, and as we do, let us infuse it with our commitments to share with Cameron the unique gifts that God has given us, gifts he’ll need from us as he goes along life’s way. Each of us has a very specific and vital role to play in raising Cameron. In silence or in a few words, as the chalice comes to you, you can add your blessing to Cameron.
(The godparents hold the baptismal chalice and goes around circle, each person touching the water)
To paraphrase the scripture: The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the most high will overshadow you; therefore this child shall be called holy, a child of God.
(Make the mark of the cross on his forehead with water): Cameron, with this water we baptize you with the love that is God, known to us, among other names, as the Father, Son, the Holy Spirit, and Mother Wisdom.
I hold the child: “I present to you Cameron, God’s gift to his parents, to his family, and to all of us! Amen!”
Adult Baptism Ceremony
In the name of the Father,
in the name of the Mother,
source of life,
from whom water flows,
to whom water returns,
In the name of the Son,
in the name of the Daughter,
flesh and blood
in whom we meet the Divine,
born of the physical water of childbirth
and the subtle water of Spirit,
In the name of the Spirit,
the Word, holy Mother Wisdom,
ideal formless form,
wind that moves water,
unseen energy,
bliss of creativity,
rapturous beauty,
We baptize you with this water,
and wash away all
that obscures God from your soul,
so that you may become
a clear, clean mirror
reflecting the presence of the divine.
With this water we awaken you
to your divine nature,
ordain you to works of service and compassion,
and confirm your intention
to grow in love for God and all beings.
Amen.
Baptismal Prayer
To you, O God, my face I turn
Out in this desert stark and hot
I pray that I might here discern
Who I am from whom I'm not
And when you make my mission clear
Lead me to the river wide
And while your Spirit hovers near
Cleanse me from my spite and pride
PASTORAL PRAYERS
Source and Center (Introduction to Silent Prayer)
Source and Center, Goal and Way
Friend and Lover, hear us pray
Keep our minds and bodies still
Let your Holy Spirit fill
The sacred silent empty place
Where we meet you face to face
Prayer of Release: a guided meditation
I lovingly observe my attachment to my anger against those who embarrass, annoy, hurt, oppose, and threaten me, and against my own thoughts, urges, and feelings that offend me.
I lovingly release this frustration and resentment and open myself to faith that, in community with others, I can respond creatively and compassionately.
I lovingly observe my attachments to my own body, mind, ego, thoughts, and feelings. I lovingly observe my attachments to other people and things. I notice the ways I think and act as if I own or control them.
I lovingly release my own body, my so-called possessions, my ego, thoughts, and feelings. I lovingly release all other people and things, relinquishing my claims to them.
I open myself to loving myself and all other people and creatures and things, as free, sacred, miraculous beings. I open myself to delight in them, to enjoy them, to honor them, and to serve them as they may have need and as I am able.
I open myself to Love, who is God. I open myself to feel divine Love as the very essence of my being, to enjoy and serve God with my awe and my actions. Amen!
Grief's Gift
Thank you God for love I've lost
For love is worth the pain it cost
For giving me this heart to feel
The gift of grief that you reveal
Prayer of Conversion
Thank you, Jesus, for showing us the way to salvation, showing us the way to the pearly gates of heaven right here on earth, free and open all the time. Thank your for leading us to the clear, cool river that runs through the middle of the heavenly city, the river running with the water of life. Dear One, we accept your salvation! With thanks we take up your offer to fill the emptiness of our lives, with thanks we receive your guidance to change direction. Right now, by the power of your Holy Spirit, we are converted from the way of death to the way of joyful eternal life on earth. Oh, Dear One, with humble hearts we come before you in prayer, and with joy we invite you to live in our hearts forever!
Lord's Prayer: An Interpretation
Dear One, closer to us than our own hearts, farther from us than the most distant star, you are beyond naming.
May your powerful presence become obvious not only in the undeniable glory of the sky, but also in the seemingly base and common processes of the earth.
Give us what we need, day by day, to keep body and soul together, because clever as you have made us, we still owe our existence to you.
We recognize that to be reconciled with you, we must live peaceably and justly with other human beings, putting hate and bitterness behind us.
We are torn between our faith in your goodness and our awareness of the evil in your creation, so deliver us from the temptation to despair.
Yours alone is the universe and all its majesty and beauty.
So it is, Amen.
Offertory Prayer:
Oh Dear One, may these scraps of paper and bits of metal serve as symbols of our deep desire for your Love to transform our time, effort, and substance into works of creative compassion for each other, for our wider community, and for the world beyond, through this church. So may it be, Amen.
COMMUNION – Words of Institution
Re-Member Us
Lord, re-member us with you
With this bread, with this cup,
Lord, re-member us with you
With this love, with this care,
Lord, re-member us with you
On this day, in this hour,
Lord, re-member us with you.
Just a Pinch
A pinch of yeast within the flour
A treasure hidden in the ground
We know not the day nor hour
When the pearl is finally found
Secrets held in mustard seeds
Salty grains give food its worth
All our small but loving deeds
Show your presence in the earth
Real as Bread
You bring alive what once seemed dead
Your word becomes as real as bread
Your love we taste in sips of wine
Your meal reveals the life divine
Feast and Fast
So let us feast on simple pleasures, and fast from all that gets our bodies and souls out of balance.
Let us feast on kindness, and fast from sarcasm.
Let us feast on compassion, and fast from holding grudges.
Let us feast on patience, and fast from anxiety.
Let us feast on peace, and fast from stirring up needless conflict.
Let us feast on acceptance, and fast from judgment.
Let us feast on joy, and fast from jealousy.
Let us feast on faith, and fast from fear.
Let us feast on creativity, and fast from all that deadens our souls.
Let us feast on social justice, and let us fast from negligence of the most vulnerable.
Let us feast on service to others, and fast from selfishness.
Let us feast on delight, and fast from despair.
Let us feast on bread and wine in spiritual communion, and fast from all that keeps us from communing deeply with each other and with God.
So that our lives might be sufficient, fulfilled, complete, whole, enough.
Amen!
Mass
"This is my body."
This body knows what it is like to have a nice house and a good job
It knows what it is like to feel uneasy about being wealthy
And it knows what it is like to be lonely, a stranger
It knows what it is like to live under a bush in a city park
It knows what it is like to try to sleep in a rain-soaked sleeping bag
This body knows what it is like to sit politely in meetings
And it knows how to howl in protest at injustice
It knows what it is like to eat right and exercise often
And it knows what it is like to wake up the morning after drinking a fifth of vodka
This body knows what it is like to do a triple flip on the bars of a jungle gym
And what it is like to lie paralyzed in a hospital bed for five years
This body knows what it is like to make love
And to make war
This body knows what it is like to be shunned because of the way it looks
And to be wanted because of the way it looks
This body knows what it is like to be afraid even of being afraid
And it knows what it is like to delight in taking crazy chances
This body knows what it is like to be treated like an any body instead of like a some body.
"This is my body."
Take it in, take it on: receive the body of Christ.
The Vine
"I am", said God to Moses from the burning bush.
"Before Abraham was, I am", said Jesus.
"I am the vine," said Jesus.
"And you are the branches."
Gnarled and twisted,
My woody sinews holding you aloft,
You, my branches, spreading, budding leaves,
Giving shelter, sharing beauty.
I am the vine, you are the branches.
We are members of each other.
I need the nourishment you pass
From your leaves back down to my trunk
As much as you need the water and food
I pour into you, up from my roots.
Re-member me when you feel cut off
Graft yourselves back on to me
When you are lonely or afraid.
Re-member me so that together
We may thrive and serve.
I am the wine.
Take me and drink.
We are one, and this is the sign.
As the vine turns water into grapes
I turn water into wine.
Through me you will find
That you and I are divine.
Eucharist
See grain ripening,
Watch grapes reddening,
See dough rising,
Smell juice fermenting,
Observe developing
From infancy to adulthood,
Watch friendship deepening,
Feel love swelling,
See the spread of community’s web,
Notice creativity emerging.
Taking it in,
Humbled with awe
Beholding transformation:
Bread becomes body,
Wine becomes blood,
We become elements
Of cosmic eucharist.
How does it happen?
Secreted in yeast,
Hidden in the oven,
Obscured in the cask,
Unseen in the belly,
Occulted in the brain?
How does God become food,
Drink become divine?
How does love smell delicious,
Or truth wet the tongue?
By taking and being taken,
Eating and being eaten,
Drinking and being drunk;
By putting ourselves into each other
And letting each other grow:
This is the way
War yeasts to peace,
Anger ferments to forgiveness,
Grief bakes into gratitude,
Hate ages to patience,
Pride digests to humility,
Selfishness brews into compassion,
Conflict cooks to communion.
Take, and eat,
Take, and drink.
LENT AND EASTER
Ash Wednesday Meditation
On my forehead,
A sign of the cross,
Smudged in ash from the fire
That burned down the McMansion of my hubris,
And, with it,
The money I should have given away,
The television I used to numb my senses,
The carpet I should have been called on,
The doors I should have opened to others,
The envelopes I should have used
To send letters of love,
The wise books I shelved prominently
So that others would think I had read them,
The blank places in my photo albums
Where my darker moments should have been remembered,
The calendars where visits with the people who needed me most
Should have been scheduled,
The couch of my complacency,
The lounge-chair of my laziness,
The shirts I stuffed with my pride,
The moccasins I should have traded with others
So we could have walked miles in them.
On my forehead,
A sign of the crossroad
Where I can turn from the way of ruin
To the way of life.
Easter Prayer
Dear One who meets us on both sides of the stone that guards the tomb, who makes new lives out of the ones we lose, we hang on to the old lives we are losing, and hesitate to embrace the new ones you make for us. We hang on to immaturity, to habits that have become holy to us, even as they drag us down. We hang on to ways of thinking and living that we have outgrown. We hang on to political and economic systems that result in gross inequity, just because we hate to give up what is familiar. We let our homes become museums instead of shelters for a living love. We linger at the tombs where we store our embalmed images of ourselves, even as you are transforming that image into yours. In the silence of prayer we wait for you to roll away the stone and reveal to us the new life that you are creating for each of us. Amen!
BENEDICTIONS
Words of Love
May we love ourselves and each other in the same way that God loves us. May our love be the means by which the love of God is made obvious in this world. Amen, until love brings us together again!
Leaving Worship
As we leave worship
Let us remember our place in creation
Let us observe ourselves from the divine perspective
Let us remember that we are reflections of the personality
of the universe
We embody the image of God
And of all our tasks, our schemes and aims,
None compares to this one:
That we are here to praise and enjoy God forever.
Amen!
Peace Benediction
May the peace of God surround you
Like the trees of the forest
May the peace of God warm you all over
Like the sun in the sky
May the peace of God swell and roll over you
Like a wave in the sea
May the peace of God fill you
Like the cool wind
May the peace of God be with you.
SPECIAL CEREMONIES
ORDINATION
Ordination Prayer
So boundless bonds will grow
To make this human race a whole
Freely may your call be heard
To free obedience to your Word
To each of us our special tasks
Found by doing what you ask
By grace ordain us day by day.
BLESSING OF THE DRIVER’S LICENSE
(Words spoken as Lily, the new driver, stands on the altar, while the pastor passes her freshly-issued license quickly through the flame of a candle.)
Dear God, we pray that this license will be a blessing for Lily and for all who drive with her or near her. May she always be conscious of the great power which this license invests in her. May all drivers around her be just as conscious and aware as we pray she will be. May she be filled with a holy spirit of patience, calm, kindness, and forbearance as she drives. May her hands and her feet and her eyes be quick to avoid danger to herself and others. May she drive far and wide, see many wonderful things, visit many wonderful people, for as long as this license is valid. Amen!
And now, let us pass the license among us in the congregation. Hold it with both hands and offer your blessing on it, on Lily, and on all with whom she comes near on the road.
Tax Day
A Prayer for April 15
(I pray in worship with my hand on a copy of my income tax return resting on the pulpit, on the Sunday before taxes are due:)
Dear God, bless my taxes! Give me peace of mind as I struggle to fill out the forms and determine the right amounts I should be sending to the government. Keep me calm, I pray, as I write out those fat checks on April 15. And whisper a reminder to me, Lord, of all the good reasons that I send my money to my government every year.
Remind me of the fact that I could not write this prayer if I had not received an excellent tax-subsidized education. My parents couldn’t have afforded fancy private schools or colleges. Gently show me that the Internet, through which I send this prayer to others, was created with taxpayer dollars. Help me to recall that my freedom to pray as I wish was purchased with the lives of soldiers and the tax payments of other citizens who defended liberty before I was born. Reveal to me, Lord, in my mind’s eye, the roads and the airports, the water systems, the magnificent parks and wilderness areas, the public health workers, the regulators of the environment and of commerce, the scientists, and all else that my taxes make possible. They provide safety and comfort, protect natural resources, and enable capitalism to flourish for the benefit of all. Remind me of how hard and scary life was for the sick and elderly before citizens paid Social Security taxes and received its benefits. Remind me, dear One, just how expensive, difficult, and unpleasant life would be for us all without all the services and protections that are funded by my tax payments.
Dear Lord, remind me that for all the good things that I and others receive back from the government, my tax payments are a bargain. Redeem me from selfishness and give me a spirit of gratitude as I write those tax checks. Inspire me to see that this is a sacred duty, and is a way that I serve others who are vulnerable, poor, or sick, and are especially dependent on public assistance.
O dear One, there are so many ways I wish my taxes could be spent differently. There are many things I don’t like about what my government is doing, and there are many very important things it leaves undone. I’m very distressed that my taxes fund an immoral war, I’m disgusted at the diversion of my tax money into political corruption. I’m embarrassed that my government doesn’t take the needs of the poor seriously, and I’m outraged that my taxes aren’t paying for a health care system that guarantees coverage to everyone. I’m willing, O Lord, to pay even more in taxes if it would work for the common good: it could save us all even more money and trouble, in the end. More than ever, dear God, give me the strength and the vision to take action as a voter, pressing my government to act for peace and justice at home and abroad. My sacred duty as a citizen is only partly fulfilled as I write my tax checks. I ask for your guidance, God, as I join with others to change the priorities and values of our government, so that it reflects your loving will more closely.
May your blessing rest on my Form 1040 this next week, dear Lord, and may my taxes well serve you and my fellow citizens! Amen.
Posted at 04:20 PM | Permalink
A cool clear dawn in early spring:
She stepped outside to fill her jug
With water from the village well.
“What is happening to my feet?”
She whispered as she walked along.
They’d never felt so full of life…
They seemed to float above the ground.
And up her legs and through her thighs
A tingling rush arose and swelled.
The inner glow lit up her groin
And moved into her chest and head;
She had no words for what she felt.
The earth stays round by gravity
Pulling things toward itself,
But earth’s a seed that yearns to bloom.
The force that pulls in turn rebounds
With lava bursting out from deeps
And water bubbling up in springs
And love divine that percolates
Up every break in everything
To find and fill an open heart.
A power Mary could not name
Pushed through the earth and up her frame
Into her heart, into her womb.
She welcomed it and let it glow,
Encouraged it to dwell and grow;
Make her more human and divine.
She passed that love into her son,
Who offered it to everyone;
May it rise through us, each and all,
At Christmas.
A mythic story of a true turning point
In the natural history of consciousness,
Celebrating the birth of unconditional compassion.
The turn away from an eye for an eye,
The passing of supernatural, superpower God;
The rising of God with no power but love.
A story of hope for the peaceable kin-dom,
Activation for the foundation
Of a heavenly city on earth.
Poor shepherds and rich wise men
Brought to their knees in holy awe
Made equals in eyes of divine love.
Seeing the universe in a grain of sand,
Finding the cosmos in a baby’s hand,
Straining to listen to the angel band…
I turn in shame, I toss in pain
I cannot sleep: confusion reigns
I cannot sort the wrong from right
I groan in turmoil through the night.
Across the town dear Mary rests;
A baby grows below her breasts.
Good sense suggests that it is mine
But she’s convinced that it’s divine.
Shall I leave or should we wed?
In sweat I writhe upon my bed
Tilll sleep prevails and gives me rest
From this torment and this test.
A ladder drops into my dream
To earth from heaven’s golden gleam
Angels on its rungs climb down
And then I hear a roaring sound
It vibrates fully in my frame:
A voice that calls me by my name.
Just like the Torah story told,
I dream what Jacob dreamed of old.
God came and stood beside him then
And promised offspring without end
Then climbed back up into the air
And left young Jacob lying there.
But God’s promise in my sleep
From Jacob’s ladder takes a leap
“His name will be Emmanuel”,
I hear the sacred Presence tell.
“God with us” now and evermore!
It shakes the cosmos to the core.
For heaven comes to dwell on earth
Through this coming holy birth.
God descends this time to stay
The ladder lifts and floats away.
I wake refreshed, my way is clear,
Assured that Love Divine is near...
The Wall
O little town of Bethlehem
A wall thee now divides
Above thy concertina wire
The silent stars go by
Beyond the wall the soldiers
Aim rifles toward the sky
Militias roaming streets inside
Ignore the baby’s cry
The settlements and suicides
Injustice, greed and hate,
O little town, you seem to drown
In tears for your hapless fate
But hear the choir of angels
Their great glad tidings tell
O come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel!
Dead dogma burdens Bethlehem
With grudges from the past
Muslims, Jews, and Christians, too
Say their claims are the last
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.
The baby’s voice is calling us
To Bethlehem again,
Where walls divide may grace abide
Forgiveness enter in
The morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth
And praises ring, for Love we sing
And peace to all on earth!
A Humbled God
God had it all,
He was on top of the world.
His acronym was listed on NASDAQ,
His identity was managed by a top PR firm,
His handlers kept him at more than arms-length
From everyone else.
But within God was a stirring,
An urge that he could not deny.
There was something he needed
That his money could not buy.
Against the advice
Of his masters of divinity
And his tax accountants
And his media consultants
And his personal trainers,
He concluded that his existential loneliness
Was more than he could bear.
The only thing missing from his omnipotence
Was the love of finitude herself.
His lawyers tried to hush her up,
His board of directors met in secret,
His spokespeople made no mention
Of his little indiscretion
With a certain Mary of Nazareth.
But she was not embarrassed.
What others called a scandal,
She called a blessing.
She went public right away.
She sang, magnificat-ly, freely,
Turning down offers of cash from the tabloids.
Christmas is coming, she said, and soon,
God would have a face
Whether he liked it or not.
God, she said,
Was going to be outed,
And the whole embarrassing truth
About the incomplete creation,
The scandal of evil,
The rot in religion,
And the corruption of power
Would be revealed.
And, to add to the outrage,
This news would be delivered in a manger,
Wrapped in swaddling clothes, and
Would grow up to be a man
Who looked a lot like God.
Which would make it all the more surprising,
Since this man would be being kind and forgiving,
Just and faithful, caring and forbearing.
His divinity would embarrass his Father
Into behaving more humanely
Than anyone would have dreamed possible,
And inspire humans into behaving more divinely
Than they had ever imagined.
Three dark-suited agents
Descended on the manger
To buy her silence with gold and frankincense and myrrh,
And a corps of angels was sent
To sing loudly and drown out her every word.
A team of burly shepherds
Was hired to bounce the paparazzi and the press
Away from the manger door.
But Mary sang on, above it all:
Christmas is coming,
And heaven will come down to earth,
And there will be prophet-sharing,
And truth will begin to speak to power,
And justice will begin to prevail.
Christmas is coming,
And soon God’s little mistake,
His brief fling with mortal me,
Will save God from himself,
And us from him.
Christmas is coming, she said,
And soon God’s old idea of himself
And our old ideas about God
Will fly out the manger window
With the bathwater
And the baby Jesus will remain.
Christmas is coming, she sang,
And nobody and nothing can stop it!
Christmas is coming, and Mary still sings,
Sweeter now, and slow.
The three men have wisened,
And their faces have softened.
The angels merely hum,
And even the shepherds have come inside,
Preparing to meet their humbled God.
The Virgin Monologue
"'God did it' isn't an explanation," said Joseph.
He got no account for the baby's chromosomes,
No description of the mechanism that
Transmuted the divine shadow into royal blood.
"'The devil made me do it' would have sounded better to me," said Joseph,
Though it never did him any good
When he said it to his old girlfriends.
It was a mystery to him,
What moved him to listen for the rhyme
And puzzle for the reason
That Mary gave him the news in the manner that she did:
A mystery that put him at peace.
There was something in the way she held his hand
That no medical journal article could correlate;
Something in the way she gazed into his eyes
That eluded the grasp of genomic research.
"I don't ask you to believe what I am saying," she said,
"I don't ask you to take my word for it.
I just ask you to love, as if.
Love me as if I were yours,
Love this baby as if he were yours,
As I love you as if you were mine."
Love 'as if" makes every child divine
Love 'as if' fits all in David's line
Live 'as if' this love was meant for you
Love 'as if' the Christmas tale is true....
He Is Weak but He Is God
Out of this house where there is no room
For the little ones that to him belong
(He is weak but he is God)
Let's get outside to hear the song
Of his birthing cry to this world of doom
(If she give birth to me, yet shall I love her)
Ecstasy of Christmas
May we be enraptured
By overshadowing Love;
May our souls magnify the Lord
Through our widening eyes,
Through expanded lenses
and greater focal lengths,
By powers in geometric progression
In the parabolic curve that marks
the division of cells,
Of conception into gestation,
then birth,
Of Word becoming Flesh.
Oh blazing Star afar, come near!
Divine and human, arbitrarily close,
Oh ecstasy of Christmas, here!
The Three Wise Men's Boogaloo
High steppin' camels one by one
See the wise men boogaloo
Down to Bethlehem to have some fun
Rockin' this way, rockin' that
Camels strut to where it's at
All night long by the light of a star
No idea where they are
By a ragin' star, a flamin' light
And the sniff of a flarin' nose
Each camel seeks the blessed sight
While the wise men wisely doze
If you're hip to what's hap
You'll find your own way
To the funky old shack
Where the angels play
Hallelujia jazz on their saxophones
To the baby lying on the moss
That fell off the rolling stones
That the camels kicked free
On their winding road
From ancient history
With a load of frankincense and gold
And myrrh and the pyramids' plan
And Hammurabi's code of old
And all the poetry of ancient Iran
And drums and tubas to join the band
Rocking the manger
Mocking the danger from King Herod's hand
It's the three wise men's boogaloo
So join the choir with a tap of your shoe
They're coming to the manger nearest you....
Last Candle
The last candle burns
The waiting's almost over
Soon we'll hear a baby crying
and we'll know that God is no mere idea
Soon we'll feel what Mary feels with the baby in her arms
And we'll know we've met God in person
A person among us, weak and wanting, wise and growing
Soon we'll know what is divine about being human
and human about being divine
One candle burning
One star shining in the night sky
One child lying in a manger's straw
One God, among us, Emmanuel!
Stony Trail
On a stony trail through the Sinai wastes
A little family headed south
Father, mother, little babe
A burdened donkey, head drooped down
Leaving home, might never come back
Might not return on the northbound track
Off to college, off to war
Off to travel or explore
Or kicked out of the house in a bad divorce
Or run out of town on a rail, or worse
Or just an urge to get out of Dodge
To find some other place to lodge
Some other way to live and be
Someother kinds of sights to see
The soul stirs and cannot rest
Until it makes another next
For even should the exile end
Home will never be the same again
When it's time to leave, my soul will know
Will I follow? Can I let go?
What’s Left of Christmas
A baby waits in a dark, warm womb
Lulled by the sway of a donkey's walk
Down a road in the night toward Bethlehem
A young man waits in a concrete cell
For the years of the curse of his crime to pass
What is left of Christmas now?
And what will be left of Christmas then?
A young girl waits by a lighted tree
Till her sleep can skip past the hours till dawn
When she will awake to her Christmas dreams
An old man waits for the phone to ring
And an earnest voice might offer a hint
Of a Christmas past, when his son was young
And a shiny train roared round the tree
A mother waits for the oven's buzz
For the cry of her child, for the call of her mate
For the time to write, for a chance to think
Of the deeper things that the season means
The officer waits in her darkened car
On the side of a road on a freezing night
For the squeal of tires, for a drunken weave
For the family fight, for the noise too loud
For her shift to end in peace tonight
The student waits in the airport lounge
Brooding against her travel bags
Till the blizzard ends and the runway's clear
Hoping to make it home in time
The trucker waits at the counter's edge
For a cup of warmth to heat the night
For the sight of a face to dull the pain
Of family lost, of lovers left
A truck stop Christmas must suffice
A soldier waits in the Balkan night
Ears alert for the slightest sound
Eyes strained into the fearsome dark
At home there's a chill in his young wife's heart
He feels her pangs for him this night
A father waits in a cobwebbed barn
By flickering light of a lamp of oil
Holding the hand of his struggling wife
As their precious child is born to the world
And we now wait in a darkened church
Ready to have our hopes fulfilled
Ready to kindle that holy light
Ready to find the Christ within
Each of us who has come tonight
Incarnation Meditation
I am what comes before sand and sandstone
Chickens and eggs.
I am the unproven truth
On which all proofs depend.
So why this stirring, this painful urge
To emerge through the cosmic pelvis?
Why this wanting to breathe thin air,
To play in the dirt, to shave wood, to cleave to flesh?
To make friends I could lose,
To share love that could break,
To mingle in blood and spit and mud?
On this side I am a wingless angel floating,
Sustained by all that surrounds me,
Breathless in bliss, in timeless sabbath rest.
On this side, I am someone else's idea.
All that without will or effort is, I am.
Out there are choices to be made:
Laments or laughter, caresses or crosses.
Out there are surprises --
Unspeakable horrors, ineffable ecstasies.
Out there is a Way,
Narrow or wide, slippery or safe?
Out there I dread, but yearn to go....
Out there is Christmas.
Christmas Cry
A baby cries...
and its cry commands our attention.
What does it need, how can we provide?
Dear One!
It's you!
We hear your cry...
Feed the hungry, hold the hurting, shelter the shivering,
Stay close to the suffering
Dear One!
To your Christmas cry,
we answer yes.
Christmas Wish
by Jim Burklo and Roberta Maran
May you be gifts to those you see
Better than presents under a tree
May your faces smiling bright
Give off a glow like candlelight
You need no ribbon, nor a bow
Your love is all that needs to show
Let this Christmas wish come true:
May peace on earth begin with you.
When Jesus Stopped Believing in Santa
The day after the first Shabbat in Advent,
Mary and Joseph took Jesus, who was eight years old,
To the Great Mall of Bethlehem.
There, in the middle of the huge indoor shopping complex,
Was a stately Christmas tree surrounded by wrapped gifts.
"I don't believe in Santa anymore," Jesus announced.
Joseph, startled, asked why.
"He's too fat to get down the chimneys," Jesus answered,
"And there are too many chimneys for him to go down, all on the same night."
"But you leave him cookies every Christmas Eve," argued Mary,
"And he always eats them, leaving just a few crumbs!"
"That's why he's so fat," declared Jesus. "All those cookies!"
"So you do believe in Santa after all!" said Joseph, with relief.
"No, I mean you. You eat the cookies. That's why you are so fat," said Jesus,
Patting his dad's belly with affection.
"Oh, and I don't believe that you were a virgin when you got pregnant with me, either,"
Said Jesus to Mary.
"That's not how babies get made. I read about it online."
Joseph sighed. "Well, the wonder of Christmas was great while it lasted:
There's nothing so precious as the dancing eyes of a child who believes in the magical and the fantastic!"
"Don't get too sad about it," answered Jesus, his face aglow with joy. "I still believe that I am God!"
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It's normal for us to want to see ourselves as being consistent. This aspect of our nature can be manipulated, for better or worse. A book I use in the public policy course I teach at USC's graduate School of Social Work, INFLUENCE: Science and Practice, by the social psychologist, Robert Cialdini, explains how it works. He pointed out that the Chinese during the Korean War treated American POW's much better than did the North Koreans. And the Chinese got more of the results they were seeking. They manipulated the American prisoners carefully, by getting them to do small acts that were on the edge of disloyalty, and then nudging them to do more and more disloyal things until prisoners were denouncing America on the radio and informing on each other during escape attempts. The same effect works in sales. Sell something cheaply to a customer, get them in the habit of buying from you, and later you are more likely to succeed in selling something more expensive to that person. Get people started down a road of behavior and they tend to stay on it, even if it's the wrong road. But this method can get people on the right road, too. Get a racist to do something that fights against racism, and the human tendency toward commitment and consistency will do its magic to unravel the web of hatred in that person's heart.
JIM BURKLO
Website: JIMBURKLO.COM Weblog: MUSINGS Follow me on twitter: @jtburklo
See my GUIDE to my books, "musings", and other writings
Associate Dean of Religious Life, University of Southern California
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