Peasants and Astronomers: Advent poems 3

 Peasants and Scholars
There were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks by night. Luke 2:8-22

Not one angel,
which would have been startling enough,
but a numberless host
delivered the message
to this community of sheep-herding peasants.
Overwhelmed by the information
and its bearers, they nonetheless
engaged their rationality
once silence had been restored.
Such a message begged verification.
They left their fields
to do field research
in the town of Bethlehem.
The investigation bore fruit.
They saw for themselves
that the news was true,
although it would be years
for the evidence of its meaning
to be forthcoming. Even so,
they left research behind
for the moment, joyfully
reported their findings
to the wider community
and praised God, voices ringing
in the new day’s dawning

Ancient Astronomers
We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him. Matthew 2:2

They had been waiting
and watching—for what, they
weren’t sure. When at last
the distant sun throbbed in the west,
it drew them like a lover.
They left their towers and set out,
trekking through desert
and mountain pass.
The star led them
to the backwaters of the empire
where they discovered,
not a new land,
but an invisible kingdom.
They gave their gifts, worshipped,
and began the journey home,
guarding the secret.
Nothing would ever again be the same.

Cat in the manger

by U.A. Fanthorpe

In the story, I'm not there.
Ox and ass, arranged at prayer:
But me? Nowhere.

Anti-cat evangelists
How on earth could you have missed
Such an obvious and able
Occupant of any stable?

Who excluded mouse and rat?
The harmless necessary cat.
Who snuggled in with the holy pair?
Me. And my purr.

Matthew, Mark and Luke and John
(Who got it wrong,
Who left out the cat)
Remember that,
Wherever He went in this great affair,
I was there.



My version of the cat in the manger



Chiri at worship

A lesson from Joseph

One character in the Christmas story is speaking to me today. It’s Joseph, one of the supporting cast members in this drama. He’s usually in the background, which is one reason I like him. Being a background person myself, I am comfortable around Joseph.

What strikes me today is the inner wrestling match he surely went through after finding out that his Mary was pregnant. The Scriptures say that Joseph, Mary’s soon-to-be husband, was faithful to the law, “and yet….” It’s the “and yet” part that tells me compassion was also part of his character. And now faithfulness to the law and compassion for others go head to head. The law tells him that Mary must be publically exposed and cast off, perhaps even stoned. Compassion reminds him that Mary is still a person worthy of love and respect. So Joseph compromises and chooses to move with gentleness. Out of faithfulness to the law he will end their relationship (and I sense undercurrents of sorrow), but out of compassion he will not expose her but do what he feels he must do quietly. It’s not the perfect solution. But it’s the best he can come up with.

Joseph acts with integrity, and perhaps that’s why he and God are still on speaking terms. God communicates with him by way of an angel in his dreams, tells him that he doesn’t have all the facts. Gives him a way forward that was completely off his radar.

And the story goes on from there.

As I ponder the dilemma facing Northwest Yearly Meeting, I sense the tension within us between faithfulness to the law on the one hand, and compassion for people on the other. Perhaps this is a simplistic view, as my husband would tell me, but I see us as holding these two ideals and wondering how to find our way through without giving up either one. Is it even possible?

And then the Joseph story reminds me that we don’t have all the facts yet (and perhaps never will), but that the same God who told Joseph to marry Mary can also tell us, “This is the way. Walk in it.” It may be a way we have not yet even imagined.

Yes. Come, Lord Jesus. Show us the way.

Frank Laubach’s Quaker Christmas, 1942

Frank Laubach

Frank Laubach, famed “Apostle to the Illiterates” and Protestant mystic, made his first tour of Latin America in 1942, to promote his literacy program. While in La Paz, he stayed in the home of Quaker missionaries Howard and Julia Pearson. Quakers had been using his “each-one-teach-one” method in their own adult education program, so there was a natural contact.

As I was recently reading through the personal letters of Julia Pearson in the George Fox University archives, I came across a hand-copied section of a journal that Laubach kept while in La Paz. Pearson had probably asked his permission. It gives a fascinating impression of Andean Quakers in 1942, some 16 years after the founding of that very meeting in La Paz. Although Laubach writes in the third sentence, “There was nothing Quaker about it,” I beg to differ. The “strangeness” is cultural; the heart of the worship is profoundly Quaker. Following are excerpts:

“December 21, 1942

“Tonight I had a spiritual experience which will echo thru the rest of my life. It was the Aymara prayer meeting in the Quaker church. There was nothing Quaker about it. After a long talk—which I did not understand—by the Aymara pastor, the congregation knelt to pray. Every one prayed aloud at the same time. It began with a murmur; then women’s plaintive wails began to be heard above the rest and presently they could be heard weeping. I heard the terrible cry of the ages rising to God from broken hearts; and behind them I heard the bitter cry of anguish of all the illiterates in the world. The oppressed, the blind, the hopeless and I began to say, ‘Lord, aren’t you going to do something about these tragic people?’  I heard in my heart the answer, ‘I have done something. I have sent you.’ As I write these words, I am weeping with gratitude and resolve and pity and I think I understand better after this night’s experience how Christ feels…3 nights before Christmas

“December 24, 11:00 p.m.

 “I am just home from the most fascinating Christmas program in my whole life. Over 300 Aymara Indians in this Quaker church gave a perfectly wonderful program. Their ordinarily poker faces were wreathed in smiles. I have never seen a more striking illustration of the power of the gospel to transform people than this evening’s revelation. One could almost tell how many months or years each person present had come under the influence of the gospel. Here were women with babes over their backs wobbling Indian squaw fashion yet shaking hands like dear sisters. I think the most unforgettable number was a song by about fifteen men and 8 or 10 women. One girl, daughter of a highly educated man, formerly pastor of the church, looked like a queen. Beside her stood young women, awkward, shuffling, embarrassed to the point of pain and yet beginning to enjoy Christian life.

“These Friends are working a modern miracle among the Indians of La Paz. The church is located in the center of the Indians. There are literally thousands swarming the streets so that an automobile has to creep along constantly sounding the horn. Perhaps because my heart is so much with these Indians, I feel that this Christmas Eve is the climax of my first visit to S.A.

“….This evangelical church of the Friends, wholly controlled by the Indians themselves, is far more strict than we are at home. They allow not even lipstick. Tonight as I write the Indians carousing in the street present a sharp contrast to these stern, puritanical Quakers!

“December 25

“Christmas morning. ‘Friend’ Pearson woke me at 6:30 to enjoy their Santa Claus. It was delightful to see little Donald open the packages and hear him shriek with delight at every new surprise. He got many presents: drawing sets, a ship and torpedo boat which blows it up, a rotary printing press, puzzles, but the thing he loved most was a repeater pistol! He is out trying it on chickens now! Even being a Quaker does not take war out of the boy of nine.

January 3, 1943

“This afternoon I attended the Sunday meeting in the Quaker church in front of the house where I am staying. The pastor seemed very slow, awkward & shy. He talked about Paul’s doctrine of salvation thru faith. Two men came forward and knelt at the altar. Then all knelt and prayed aloud at the same time. I did as well as the rest. I think if I ever again have a mission church I shall start that custom. One fairly fells the presence of the Holy Spirit. Some of the women cried as they prayed. Then they all stopped by common consent and the two men at the altar arose and testified. One had an eye nearly gone, trachoma I suppose. As he testified to the free gift of salvation, he broke down and shook while he held his handkerchief to his face. Then everybody began to testify. I told them in Spanish about these wonderful days in the Pearson house, and the power of the Holy Spirit was so great in that meeting that I had difficulty in restraining the tears. When I had finished, the pastor translated my poor Spanish into Aymara. Here was a church full of people who did not depend upon the minister but made the meeting their own by prayer and testimony. It was marvelous to see the Spirit working in these humble people—marvelous and wholesome, a humbling experience for me…. I saw afresh what these words mean: ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts…for as the heavens are higher than the earth so are my thoughts higher than your thoughts and my ways than your ways.’ I had to sink my college education and realize that in God’s sight these simple people, true to their convictions, were better than I have been, were more highly esteemed than I was. I wonder why Jesus had not said, ‘How hardly shall they that have a college education enter into the kingdom of heaven.’… It was delightful to realize, here this afternoon, that God prized these dear illiterate Indians exactly as highly as he did me.

“The marvelous change he has wrought upon them is brought in relief—stark and unmistakeable relief—by the drunken carousers across the fence, one of whom is making hideous shouts. I am not blaming those drunken Indians. They find their pleasure in liquor—until they become intoxicated with the Holy Spirit. It will be one or the other.”

Field research—in the stable

Concurrent with advent and our Christmas preparations, we are also preparing for our next trip to Bolivia in just under two weeks. While there we will gather our Bolivian research team for a two-day seminar on methodology, all part of the project to investigate and write the history of the Bolivian Friends Church.

I get to bring some of the devotionals for that seminar and I’m actively looking for significant biblical passages and examples. One dropped into my lap Sunday morning as Andy Henry preached from the Luke 2 story of the shepherds at the manger. While this wasn’t exactly Andy’s focus, I suddenly saw the shepherds in a new light—that of active investigators.

The insight is new, but the passage is familiar:

⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

¹⁶ So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.

Do you see it?

--The shepherds didn’t start their investigation from scratch. They had a word from the Lord, via the angels who gave them some key clues as to what this was all about. They had a commission to check it out. God provided the foundation and starting point for their research. This was their living oral “literature review.”

--“They hurried” off.” This was clearly a research team, the subject being too big for one witness alone.

--“They hurried off.” They went. They became involved. They got up off their haunches and did something. They actively sought the reality of the angels’ proclamation.

--They went to the manger, the actual place where the event was taking place. Geography and context are important to research.

--They saw him for themselves. They sought the sign and witnessed its reality in person. Although they left their literal fields for the manger, is not this field research in the deepest sense of the term?

--They responded to what they saw and the interpretation of the event the angels provided. They “spread the word.” They published their history so that others could share in the amazement and know the transforming truth. (This is the unwritten part of the story that comes next.)

I pray that this perspective might encourage and enliven those of us involved in this huge research project set in the Bolivian Andes. It’s a place where modern day shepherds watch over their llamas and sheep. And where, I suspect, angels still serenade them.

A few of the 1000 graces

The title of this blog, “Mil gracias,” plays with its two senses. The first is the common Spanish meaning, “Thank you, a lot!” (at least a thousand times over). But literally, the phrase says, “A thousand graces,” and reflects Saint Paul’s exuberant teachings on “the riches of God’s glorious grace that he lavished on us” and continues to freely give.

I’ve identified my poetic vocation as that of “seeing and saying the grace of God hidden in the ordinariness of life.” I’m a God-spy. And right now I’m sensing the tug to do my job.

Piercing through the celebrations of this Christmas season, the Shady Hook shootings remind us of the surrounding darkness. Yet the light of the Christ child shines brighter. It seems important this Christmas to see and name the grace of God all around me. So here’s a simple list of grace-sightings this last week.

--The first snow fall of the year here in Newberg, although modest in comparison to other places, was beautiful. This day, whenever it comes, should be considered a holiday in the best sense of that word. A holy day.

--We went to the holiday Christmas concert with “Wendy Goodwin and friends.” Not just the excellence of the musicians, but the passion and creativity they poured into it made it more than a performance. It was worship.

--We had a friend over for dinner; then we went to see “The Hobbit.” I love Tolkien, but the best part of the evening was being with Lynn, sharing our struggles and joys, affirming how the light is slowly overcoming the darkness in our current experience.

--Our home was in chaos for most of the week as we are finally taking out those ugly old base-board heating units, then repairing the wall and floor. It’s not done yet, but I see order emerging from the chaos. I see grace especially in Hal’s diligence and gentleness. Several times he reassured me, “You’re going to be really glad we’ve done this, Nancy.” I already am.

--I negotiated the tickets for our trip next year to Rwanda to be with our kids and grandkids. We’ve saved our frequent-flier-miles for four years to make this possible. Normally I do tickets online but this one was complicated, with several stops along the way, so I needed the help of an agent. My heart sank when I heard her voice over the phone, asking “Whatta ya want?”  She was obviously not having a good day. And for the next hour the crabby agent and I worked together to find out, first of all, if this trip was even possible. “It can’t be done,” she informed me. I had done enough research ahead of time to know that it was possible, so I gently suggested a way, and she actually tried it on her computer and found I was right. But it took a lot of searching and experimenting to finally find a path to the final ticket. The grace note in this encounter was that the Spirit helped my spirit to keep gentle, kind and patient the whole time, with our trip to see the grandkids at stake. At the end of the hour, the agent was no longer crabby. We were actually laughing together and wishing each other a merry Christmas. I sensed that her spirit was lighter, maybe ever merrier, for the encounter. That was all grace.

--I finally followed through on my inner urge to volunteer at the local library. I don’t have a lot of free time, but I’ve wanted to do something for and in the community, and I love the library. I’m going to give one afternoon a week, and Wednesday, my first day, I learned how to plasticize new paperbacks. The best part was sitting at the table in the workroom with two other volunteers and our overseer, getting acquainted with them while working with my hands. I learned that the library receives about 400 hours of volunteer labor a month, and that this is part of what enables it to offer its services free to the community. Sometimes God’s grace flows through local government services. I’m glad to make my minuscule contribution. (And I pray now for grace to manifest through the national government. Miracles do happen. Christmas teaches us this.)

--Grace comes through Scripture, and a few days ago my friend Judy sent a Christmas email letter with a message from the Psalms that spoke to my condition (as we Quakers say): “With you is the fountain of life, and in your light we see light” (Ps. 36:9). Those words have been swimming through my spirit ever since, and I sense new hope for several situations. This is a good word for a God-spy.

--Last week began with the North Valley Friends annual children’s Christmas program. Without much time to rehearse, the drama was delightfully klutzy, with lots of laughter. What I noticed is how people are cherishing the children in their lives. It’s one of the lights that contrasts to the darkness around us.

Today after lunch we travel to Springfield to be with our daughter and her family, including three rascally urchins we will be delighted to cherish. Christmas has a different feel this year. The lights and laughter stand out against the darkness in sharper contrast. How good to affirm that in the coming of the Christ-child, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot put it out” (Jn. 1:5).

Grace, all grace.

A Christmas God-freck

We just returned from spending the Christmas holidays with our daughter and family. We were delighted to discover that the two oldest grandkids are into homemade gifts. Six-year-old Paige made us a book, and I now want to share it, part of my vocation of encouraging young writers.

 

Christmas is the best holiday ever

(by Paige Gault)

I like Christmas a lot not decause of the prestents decause of God

I also like things like elfs maby I mostle like snowdall the Elf I like him a lot

I mit also like Santa and reinder bat I mostle like GOD!

I am a God freck a Big Woon!

I like the manger set a lot,

bet I do like presits a lot too!

Merry Christmas and happy new years

Happy holydays to you, too. From another God-freck (a Big Woon).

Mary's song

by Luci Shaw

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest...
you who have had so far
to come.) Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled
a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.

His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world.
Charmed by dove's voices, the whisper of straw,
he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breathe, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed
who overflowed all skies,
all years.
Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught that I might be free,
blind in my womb to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth
for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.

Christmas program

(North Valley Friends Church, 1979)

Bales of real hay
clump around
the false manger.
The choir files in,
an unheavenly host,
to predestined slots on stage.
I spot David,
my almost angelic son;
Our eyes connect;
he grins.
Joseph and Mary arrive.
The mini-Madonna clutches the Babe;
his plastic head sticks out, unsupported,
and does not fall.
"Tough kid," I think.
Pajama-clad animals
mill around the manger.
My small daughter, a miscast lamb,
flops her ears
and bleats to the music, all mischief.
For the next twenty minutes
I strain on the edge of the pew
as bathrobed wise men
and mock shepherds
march in and mumble their lines.
The third wise man sneezes,
Gabriel giggles,
and I suppress my own mirth
when suddenly
I see the Christ,
perceive the glory,
and adore.

A Quaker response to Christmas

We Quakers are in a good position to respond to the Christmas season. With our dual nature of being both Friends of Jesus and those who quake in the presence of the living God, at our best we bring together both the imminence and transcendence of God. Thomas Kelly described the early Quakers as being “ablaze with the message of the greatness and the nearness of God.” 

Christmas demands we bring together the nearness and greatness of God. God sent Jesus in an intimate, down-to-earth form—as a helpless baby, needing to be held, changed, fed. That’s the imminence part, God’s nearness to the human condition.

The angels and shepherds got the transcendence part right. I love the King James description of the shepherds being “sore afraid,” uniting pain with terror. More than a helpless baby, this child was the Lord of lords and King of kings in unlikely disguise. Something for the heavenly hosts to shout “Hallelujah!” about.

Sunday in programmed worship, Cherice Bock, our message-bearer, quoted G. K. Chesteron: “Man is bored to death listening over and over to a story he has never heard.”  As we listen again to the Christmas story, which we have all heard over and over, I invite you to join me in opening the “eyes of our hearts,” and seeing afresh in the baby, Emmanuel, God with us. Then let us, in the words of the old hymn, become “lost in wonder, love and praise.”