Musings

Consciousness of Christmas

 This past Saturday night, my wife Roberta and I stood with a group of people on Hollywood Boulevard, holding flickering candles.  Passers-by might have assumed we were Christmas caroling.  But we were holding a vigil for the children and adults massacred in Newtown, Connecticut last week.  Roberta organized the event earlier in the day, via MoveOn.org.  For her, Saturday had a special significance.  Her father was shot, randomly, on that night 40 years ago in Baltimore, and later died.  Whenever there's an incident of gun violence in the news, she grieves afresh.  So there we stood, a semi-circle of family, friends, and strangers who became neighbors, lifting little lights into the night.  We didn't have a "cause" other than remembrance for the lives of those who died and hope for a society free from such tragedies in the future.  There were no chants or speeches or picket signs.  If people thought we were doing something Christmassy, perhaps they were right.  'Tis the season to practice compassion.

Our President, reflecting on the tragedy at the interfaith memorial service in Newtown, said that we can do better.    We can't accept that the possibility of such mayhem is just a price we pay for our freedom.  We must change, he said.  His words were understated but powerful.  He said rare things for a leader to say in this day and age when most so-called leaders are really followers, shaping their messages and actions to conform with the latest polling data.  If we must change, that suggests we aren't okay the way we are.  Who wants to hear that?  Such words take us outside our comfort zones, outside our smug self-concepts, and into the unknown. 

The birthday of Jesus celebrates a change in human consciousness.  Some thinkers suggest that the first Christmas was a moment in the longer Axial Age, the time span between the birth of Buddha and the death of Mohammed, when humanity underwent a developmental shift toward greater justice and compassion.  Christmas is a time to celebrate this shift out of an old way of being and into the new.  It's a time to melt our guns into guitar strings on which to strum Christmas carols of praise for the coming of the Prince of Peace on earth.

For the sake of the memory of the children of Newtown, Connecticut, Christian churches must dump any dogma and jargon that get in the way of compassion and joy.  The church needs to simplify its message and structure, and focus on being a community of people who support each other in becoming kinder human beings.  We don't have time for petty church politics and theological hair-splitting. We have lives to save from loneliness, meaninglessness, hopelessness, violence.  We have higher consciousness to reach.

There is a creative tension in the Christian religion between admitting our limits and transcending them.  Our tradition tells us we're hopeless sinners, and then turns around and challenges us with Jesus' admonition to be perfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect.  It is a healthy contradiction.  A careful cultivation of humility must accompany our evolution.  To become more than we are, we must remember that we always will be less than we need to be.

I am attracted to the idea of "evolutionary panentheism", which suggests that the universe is evolving toward the divinity that is latent in every thing and event.  It's the idea that creation is developing in consciousness toward its Creator, who exists in every aspect of the creation.  I don't know that this view has a solid basis in science.  But whether or not we are part of some divine, cosmic tendency toward higher consciousness, we appear to be able to shape our destiny.  We can choose to evolve toward greater creativity and kindness.  We got here through random mutation and natural selection.  But now that we're here, we can develop our consciousness consciously.

This is what I'm celebrating this Christmas:  our emerging awareness that we can shape ourselves toward greater goodness.  We can become more and better than we have been.  We can give up our fear and our guns.  We can turn off the violent video games and the blood-drenched Hollywood movies.  We can befriend our troubled, isolated neighbors, especially the young ones.  With intention, we can shape our society so that ordinary human beings cooperate to achieve extraordinarily positive things.

A German bishop, Franz Kamphaus, once said:  "Christmas: Do it like God. Become human."  To become more fully human, to do it like God, means we must change.  Weak as we are, like babes in mangers, we still have the Christ-potential latent within us.  Consciously, intentionally, we can become better than we've been, both as individuals and as communities.  Let this be our Christmas wish and choice!

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

Jim Burklo's Interpretations of the Psalms

Psalm 8

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim Burklo's Book of Common Prayer

Liturgical Elements by Jim Burklo

Use freely with attribution

 

WORSHIP BEGINS

 

Just As You Are: A Progressive Christian Welcome

We follow the way of Jesus.

He opens our hearts

To know that our true selves are one with God, who is Love.

Jesus saves us from fear, from selfishness, from meaninglessness.

He leads us to serve with compassion and act for justice.

He moves us to curiosity and creativity.

He brings us together in the community of the church,

Where we grow in Divine Love,

Build with others a more heavenly world,

And worship God with humble joy.

We listen for Holy Spirit whispers:

We wait for her to stir our souls

In silent contemplation.

We treasure the living, progressing Christian tradition.

We creatively employ the sacred myths of the Bible

To express our spiritual experience

Beyond the bounds of creeds or beliefs.

We interpret anew our ancient practices of prayer and worship.

We embrace what is good in our religion, and in others,

And release what stands in the way of the law of Love.

We follow the way of Jesus,

And we invite you to walk with us,

Just as you are.

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas Poems by Jim Burklo

Christmas Is...

 

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…

 

In the Bleak Pandemic

 

In this bleak pandemic, lonely and afraid

City streets are empty, gatherings delayed

Snow has fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

Oh this bleak pandemic, how long will it stay?

 

Once there was a stable, in a distant land

Oppressed by foreign rulers with a brutal hand

There a peasant woman birthed upon the hay

The healer of the planet on the manger lay.

 

Sky illuminated by a star so bright

Wise men on their camels came to see the sight

Angels sang in chorus, shepherds gathered round

Mary sat alongside, uttered not a sound

 

Oh this bleak pandemic, how long will it last?

Locked inside our houses, waiting till it's passed -

Let's tell ourselves the story, old and dear

Of that holy night when heaven came near.


(Tune: Cranham - Original words: Christina Rossetti)

 

 

Joseph's Ladder

 

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 Shape of Christmas

 

My mind is a maze with the turns of the journey

The wise men wandered while aimed at the star

Their ears had the form of the wings of the angels

Attuned to the music they sang from afar

 

The shape of my spite looks a lot like King Herod’s

The innkeeper’s answer describes my disdain

My fear is the terror first felt by the shepherds

The birth-pangs of Mary give voice to my pain

 

My soul is a hole in the shape of a manger

A silence that begs for a baby’s soft cry

A darkness that yearns for a child’s wide-eyed wonder

On seeing that blaze in the evening sky….

 

The Wise Man's Confession

What wisdom I have

Awakens me to my blindness.

I cannot see light itself:

What I know of light

Is only an alluring shadow

Of what it is and does.

 

From billions of years away in space-time,

Through darkness intervening,

At its inconceivable speed

The light of an exploding star passes

Through the dark seas of my eyes,

Illuminating the dark curves of their retinas.

But I cannot see the glow of their cells:

I can only perceive the messages they send

To my brain, and from there to my soul.

 

Thus Hope passes,

Unseen and undetected,

Through this dark world.

What retina receives and translates it

Into Joy and Wonder?

 

An eye comes into the world:

A retina I cannot perceive

That will see for me,

Beyond my dark despair.

 

A star in the East!

This eye tells me

To follow it

All the way to the Source

Of the truer Wisdom

That is Love.

 

 

God in the Belly

 

Full of God, full to birthing,

Mary howls: head back, hair tossed,

Hands skyward with joy

That wrongs are about to be righted,

Salvation's about to be sighted.

No more groveling for crumbs of charity:

She pronounces justice with crystal clarity.

She's done waiting for the concentrated wealth of the 1%

To trickle down magically to the other 99.

The Santa System is stuck in the chimney;

And she won't be burned by it again!

A new kind of Christmas is coming -

To undo the dogma of domination,
Snap out of blame-the-victim hypnosis,

Chase money-changers out of the temple,

Redistribute the common wealth,

Restore power to the people,

And send the Religious Right empty away.

With one magnificent rhetorical swing,

Mary bats the political center into left field.

Pundits fumble, talk-show hosts mutter,

Super-PAC donors quiver, campaign strategists stutter:

Mary out-Magnificats them all.

So let's get in her line and carry her sign

And holler and act as if we, too,
Have God in our bellies!

 

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?

 

Ad Vent Word Jazz

“My soul magnifies the Lord,

And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

For he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant…”

 

You tweeted

Then repeated

That I was doped

Repeatedly groped

Sexually harassed

Pinched in the ass

You got violent

I stayed silent

 

You perpetrated

But God incubated

While no one was looking

Something got cooking

Now my belly’s on fire

With holy desire

To bring you down

Remove your crown

 

I won’t take the vent

Out of Advent

Time for me to yell

I won’t leave the L

Out of the public

I won’t hide the subject

You lost your insulation

From full investigation

 

My voice magnifies

My rage intensifies

My power amplifies

While you minimize

Even romanticize

Your dirty deeds

That met your needs

 

You picked the wrong time

To downplay your crime

Cause Advent’s the moment

For change to foment

For the lowly to get high

For outrage to magnify

Our righteous expectations

Moot the statute of limitations

 

Don’t mess with this Mary

Or it’s gonna get scary

Cause the pols and the swells

Won’t hear jingle bells

Till justice is done

And dignity’s won

 

“He has brought down the powerful

from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty…”

 

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!"

 

 

 

What wisdom I have

Awakens me to my blindness.

I cannot see light itself:

What I know of light

Is only an alluring shadow

Of what it is and does.

 

From billions of years away in space-time,

Through darkness intervening,

At its inconceivable speed

The light of an exploding star passes

Through the dark seas of my eyes,

Illuminating the dark curves of their retinas.

But I cannot see the glow of their cells:

I can only perceive the messages they send

To my brain, and from there to my soul.

 

Thus Hope passes,

Unseen and undetected,

Through this dark world.

What retina receives and translates it

Into Joy and Wonder?

 

An eye comes into the world:

A retina I cannot perceive

That will see for me,

Beyond my dark despair.

 

A star in the East!

This eye tells me

To follow it

All the way to the Source

Of the truer Wisdom

That is Love.

 

 

Changing Actions, Changing Hearts

 

(My wife Roberta and I hope that THIS IS MY SONG will be sung at Obama's 2nd inauguration in January.  It's "a song of peace for their land and for mine" - just the message America needs to hear, and that the world needs to hear from America.  "Like" our Facebook page if you agree!)

I saw the new movie, LINCOLN, last week, with my wife, Roberta.  We were touched by Daniel Day-Lewis' faithful and sensitive portrayal of the President in his last days in office as he pushed for the 13th Amendment, abolishing slavery, to pass Congress before the Civil War ended.  We may think that the U.S. Congress is a sausage factory today.  But if the film came close to accurately portraying it in 1864, it looked more like a dog food plant then.  The debates were full of the strident partisanship so familiar to us today.  But they included a level of foul language and personal insult that we now consider beyond the pale.  And there was nothing subtle about the corruption of the political process.  Patronage jobs were being handed out left and right to lame-duck Congressmen, to leverage their votes for the amendment.  At the end of the process, wads of cash lubricated the most recalcitrant of the persuadables.  

There were many memorable scenes in this important film.  But my favorite was at the end, just after the vote was announced.  Church bells rang out all over Washington.  A huge crowd outside the Congress was cheering.  The abolitionists in Congress were jubilant, throwing documents into the air like confetti.  The members of Congress whose votes had been bought looked bewildered at first.  As they felt the enthusiasm all around them, they smiled tentatively.  Then they began to cheer along with the rest.  They didn't become believers in racial equality before they voted, or even when they voted.  But afterward, they began to act and even feel enthusiastic about what they had done. 

 

It was an artful portrayal of human nature.  They had voted against their own racist instincts out of personal greed.  But once the deed was done, they wanted to act and emote in a manner congruent with their votes. 

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.

I teach my social work students to use this technique of manipulation for pro-social ends, both in changing public policy and in serving individual clients.  It's just a tool.  It isn't a dirty trick unless you use it to do dirty things.  I tell them they should educate their clients and communities about how it works.  Let's just get conscious about how we use it, and for what ends.

Thaddeus Stevens, a member of Congress, said of Lincoln's role in the passing of the 13th Amendment that "the greatest measure of the nineteenth century was passed by corruption, aided and abetted by the purest man in America."  It's a quotation worthy of contemplation. Obviously we should not condone corruption in politics.  But well short of buying votes in Congress, there is a place for using the arts of influence to aim our human nature in the right direction.  Convince people to take a baby step, and then a kiddie step, in the direction of kindness and justice.  Then watch the magic happen.

 

The film depicted a late-night encounter between Lincoln and Stevens, the radical abolitionist.  Stevens wanted the end of slavery to be accompanied by full equality for blacks in America in voting and all other rights.  But Lincoln knew that Stevens' plan would backfire.  Lincoln was a keen student of human nature.  He knew what had to happen:  just get slavery abolished.  Get America toddling down the path toward liberty for all, and the other good deeds would follow in the due course of time.  

 

Even our weaknesses can be put into the service of our purest aims.  Let's help each other to do the right thing, one little step at a time - until doing the right thing feels so good that we'll do more of it on our own.

 

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

Mary's Rebirth

(From a sermon I gave at Mt Hollywood Congregational Church on 12/2, the first Sunday of Advent.)

 

On one seemingly ordinary day over 2000 years ago, a seemingly ordinary girl had an extraordinary rebirth.  

 

Mary abruptly experienced the presence of an angel named Gabriel, who told her she would conceive and give birth to a son she was to name Jesus, who would be given the throne of David, king of Israel, forever. 

Mary was born again.  One moment she was a peasant girl.  The next, she was royalty.   After all, if you are going to give birth to a king, that makes you a queen!  One minute, she was a double nobody in her culture: a peasant and a woman.  The next, she was singing the Magnificat at the top of her voice, composing eloquent and powerful words of liberation and exaltation and uttering them with authority. 

 

Has this ever happened to you?  Ever seen it happen to others?  A rebirth from a peasant to a royal, from a nobody to a somebody, instantaneously?  No labor before this delivery, it would appear – and yet, there may well have been a gestation period that Mary didn’t consciously notice. 

 

I’ve seen it, many times, in my career as a pastor, organizer, and educator.  It never ceases to amaze me.  It’s something to celebrate whenever it happens, but Advent and Christmas gives us a special excuse to pay attention.  Because we aren’t celebrating the birth of just one child named Jesus at Christmas.  We’re celebrating Mary’s birth and rebirth, too.  We’re celebrating not just the first birth of one human being, but also the second and third and further births of countless other people.  We’re celebrating the potential of our humanity being born into its actuality. 

 

I worked at Stanford for many years as the liberal Protestant campus minister.   One of my students was a young woman from New York City whose parents were immigrants from Asia.  They ran a family retail business and they expected that when she graduated, she’d go back and work with them.   She had volunteered with me in serving homeless people, and I had set her up with an internship in a low income housing corporation.  She had been offered a job with the corporation after graduation.  We talked a lot together as her graduation approached.  She was a very quiet-spoken young woman, facing the toughest choice of her life.  Could she do what she knew she was meant to do, and bitterly disappoint her parents?  She cried, she agonized in front of me as she made up her mind.  She stayed and took the job offer in low income housing development.

 

A few months later, I met her at her office to go to lunch.  I could barely believe the transformation.  She had been reborn.  She spoke with confidence and authority.  She was becoming who she was meant to be.  She was doing what she was meant to do.  Her potential had birthed into actuality.  Call it a Virgin Mary moment!

 

The Christmas story belongs to Mary as much as to Jesus.  It’s Mary’s nativity as much as it is that of her son.  It’s about God incarnating in a young peasant woman and in a young Stanford student as much as it is about God manifesting in the little boy to whom Mary gave birth.  

 
How can you prepare for your Virgin Mary moment?

 

I recently read a beautiful book called REVERENCE by Paul Woodruff, a philosopher at the University of Texas.  My office co-hosted him for an event last week at USC.  It was no surprise to find that he is a reverent, carefully-spoken, reflective person.  He says reverence doesn’t belong to any particular religion, nor is it to be found only in religion.  It is deep respect for that which is beyond the capacity of human beings to express or explain fully.  Reverence is a vaccination against arrogance, tyranny, and violence of word or action.  Reverence is a virtue – it’s not a rule or an ethic.  Virtues are rooted in feelings.  If you cultivate feelings of awe and respect, the power of those feelings will urge you to do ethical deeds.  These positive feelings are more compelling toward doing the right thing than is the fear of punishment for doing the wrong thing.  At its best, says Woodruff, religion develops our capacity for reverence through acts of service and ritual.  

At its best, the church is a school for reverence – where we practice worshipful awe without containing God in some neat and tidy theological box.  In church we are called to cultivate the positive feelings of wonderment and humility. 

 

Reverence is what led to Mary’s rebirth.  She was in awe of the angel Gabriel.  She was in awe of God.  She did not claim her regal nature with arrogance, but rather with humility.  But once she had this second birth, she lived into her new being with gusto!  Suddenly, she spoke Magnificat-ly,  amazing all around her.  She didn’t say “My soul magnifies myself!”  She said “My soul magnifies the Lord.”  But in the very manner of her expression of reverence, she was ennobled.  She was more than she had been.  Her humanity more closely approached divinity.  Her humility wasn’t the false sort that downplayed her true excellence as a person.  Her humility was the true kind that recognizes that no matter how magnificent a person might be, she or he still falls far short of the magnificence of God, who always remains beyond our comprehension. 

 

So with the good feelings that flow from the virtue of reverence, let us enjoy the pregnancy of Christmas.   Let us prepare for rebirth into the lives we are meant to live, the deeds of love and creativity we are meant to do.  

 

 

JIM BURKLO
Website: JIMBURKLO.COM     Weblog: MUSINGS    Follow me on twitter: @jtburklo
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Associate Dean of Religious Life, University of Southern California