Advent gift

I read my devotion this morning, not at my usual spot at the table, but on the couch in the glow of the Christmas tree.  (Partly because that was where I left my book last night.)  It has been especially hard this morning to turn off my brain, with the thoughts, joys, and frustrations of this incredibly busy week and month.  Like most people, especially this time of year, it is very difficult for me to shut my mind off the ever-flowing stream of life events and to-do's that seem to pour over and flood any attempt to quiet myself in prayer.

Yet, for some reason that I cannot explain, the words of the hymn "Spirit of the Living God" suddenly appeared randomly and unexpectedly this morning into that stream of busy and worried thought.  Who knows the last time I heard or sung that song in church.  And it's certainly not a Christmas hymn!  I'll take it though, not as an act of my scattered brain, but rather as a small Advent gift from the mystery of God.  Even when I try to create space for quiet and prayer, life creeps in and takes over.  And I let it.  Nine times out of ten.

But perhaps this morning I was freely given the tune and words to a favorite hymn as a gentle (or adamant?) reminder to pause...turn inward....and let the Spirit of the Living God fall afresh on me.

If only for a minute.

Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. 
Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.
Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me.
Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.  

Guest Post: You Are My Witnesses

A guest post from Jeff.  Grateful for his words and his call to compassion, thoughtfulness and peace.
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In 2006, I was given the opportunity to go to Poland as part of a Holocaust remembrance trip for college and seminary students.  As a part of the trip, each group was placed together with a Jewish tour guide as well as a Holocaust survivor.  The survivor’s name was Pinchas, and throughout the week he shared his story with us.  We listened to him talk about the prejudice against Jews, and his experience of being forced into a Warsaw Jewish ghetto that was made smaller and smaller, until finally they packed everyone onto cattle cars and shipped them off to the concentration camps.  We stood in the concentration camp of Majdanek where his entire family was murdered and listened to him talk about his experiences in that place.

That trip shaped my life, and it also made me painfully aware of what is possible when a group of human beings are deemed as “other” because of their race, nationality, religion, physical or mental abilities, and even sexuality.  I say this because Jewish people were not the only ones murdered in the Holocaust, although the majority of those killed were Jewish. Close to six million Jewish people were killed.  But Gypsies, Poles, political dissidents and dissenting clergy, people with physical and mental disabilities, Jehovah’s Witnesses, homosexuals, and other groups were exterminated simply because of who they were or what they believed.

Why do I say this now?  I am not one to speak politically.  I believe in the separation of church and state.  However, when I hear or read something from the state that strikes to the core of my experience in Poland, I have to stop, and I have to speak.  It is my Christian duty to speak. 

The conversation has shifted, and now we are talking about turning away all Muslims from the United States.  Perhaps this is just campaign rhetoric. However, people strongly agree with this sentiment.  It has gone from turning away refugees (yikes) to turning away a group of people because of their religion.  This is the platform of one of the frontrunners for the presidency:  Turn all Muslims away because we do not know which ones are good and which ones are bad. 

I recognize that this is a complicated situation because the evil we face comes from a radicalized group that is rooted in Islam, yet is greatly distorting the Islamic faith.  But distorting the faith is not something that ISIS has a monopoly on.  With Jerry Falwell Jr saying:  "I've always thought if more good people had concealed carry permits, then we could end those Muslims before they walked in," it should remind us that a violent branch of Christianity is only a trigger-finger away.

Perhaps we need to step back, America, and take a look at ourselves.  Perhaps we need to step back and take a look at history.  If the language we are using or the values we are espousing reflect in any way the language and values of 1930’s Germany, we may have a problem.  Because once we label a group of people as “other,” we begin slowly to remove their humanity.  And when you remove someone’s humanity, anything is possible.  Just ask Pinchas.   

Pinchas, standing in Majdanek, telling the story of what it was like the last time he stood there.

Playing "We Shall Overcome" at Auschwitz-Birkenau

Crematory ovens at Majdanek

One of many crematory ovens 

Monument/Mausoleum  of ashes at Majdanek

Wonder: For Milly

Wonder:  For Milly

Do I have to light a candle?
The lights are on but the world feels dark.
And I am afraid - that if I light a candle
No one will see it.
Those who need it most will never know it is burning for them.

Do I have to light a candle?
These days I wonder - what for?
What good does it do to talk about hope;
To pray for peace;
To desperately ask for healing and answers in a world so broken
And cracked with pain?

Do I have to light a candle
And pretend I have the hope necessary
To muddle through another rainy day?

No.

I do not have to light a candle today.

But then I think of you.
A Wonder I never met.
You caused us all to wonder - what for?
For joy, for life, for love.
Your giant spirit outshining the darkest days,
And brightening lives for good.

You will always shine.
And I -
I have to light a candle.
I have to.
Today.  And tomorrow.
For you.
And for the world you blessed.