Gifts

by W. Thomas Edwards


I got a free banana once.
Some pointed thing had stuck it in my cart,
And when the lady saw its skin
“No need to pay,” she said, and plopped it in
Amongst potatoes, oats and milk.

I took it home, and cut the end off, there,
Just where the skin was pierced.
I sliced the skin and peeled it back to show
The tender fruit within.

And then I thought how like God’s gifts to us
This gift banana was.

The gift of Faith that comes wrapped up
In different colored skins, and shows us how
The meanest broken things can point the way to God.

The gift of sight that Jesus gave
The man who had not ever seen.
A gift like Faith, not asked for - freely giv’n

The gift of God in human flesh
Wrapped up in trappings simple and serene,
The bread and cup Our Saviour gave us - life sustaining.

But then I thought God’s gifts so often have these little strings.
The “Talents” thing, you know,
Where using it should make it grow.
We cannot take the gifts and bury them unseen to be returned,
But use them must, and in the using to be drawn to union
With the One who gives the gift.

Most often we’re not told why gifts are given us.
Nor are we ever asked “Is this a gift you really want?”
I, for one, am not so sure I really want to be propelled
Through healing’s gift to rush about among the sick and weak,
The poor who have so little but their skins
and that not all too well.

Sometimes I wish I had been called to sit upon a pillar Stylite-like
And make pronouncements morn till night
For all to follow and make right the ills of all mankind.
But I must make the small and steady steps to teach
And in the teaching reach both those I heal
And those whose hands I teach to touch the hurting ones.

See, there’s the string. It’s hidden underneath.
The gift is grand, the string is hooked upon the heart.
And if I try to cast it off, it drags my heart away from me
And pulls me once again into the center place
Where gift, the Giver God and I may be as one.

Tom Edwards came to St Paul’s In 1990 first as a long term visitor and later as part of the community. He sings in St Paul’s Choir and is leader and founder of the Schola Cantorum Sancti Pauli, our Gregorian chant group. Tom is a devotee of the works of Thomas Merton and is an Associate of the Order of the Holy Cross. He is also a practicing physician.

Why I say "Merry Christmas"

By Robin Allan Jones

I heard on the radio the other day—on NPR, as a matter of fact--that someone went to a school Christmas concert, and all the carols had to do with snowmen, and bells and what not, but utterly no mention of the birth of Jesus, because the school didn’t want to offend anyone by utterance of anything religious—and the very people who might think this was a good idea were wondering why it wasn’t really a very good concert.

Switch your radio to AM talk, and you can hear from the religious right: For them saying “Merry Christmas” or erecting a nativity scene is a political statement. “Jesus is the reason for the season,” they say.

When someone says “Jesus is the reason for the season,” it usually comes out with the kind of condescension that makes you want to go home and take a bath in culture. Generally speaking, however, the best Christmas carols are the ones that do mention or have to do with the birth of Jesus. They were written by accomplished composers, they’ve stood the test of time, and they seem to all contain a needed sense of hope. A concert that’s all winter imagery and jingle-bell rock is like a banquet of Big Macs: All bloat and no nourishment. And gee, I hate to be the one to break it to all the mavens of political correctness, but you can’t completely escape, expunge, or censor religious symbolism. Sleigh bells and silver bells hearken to church bells, and snowmen are ancient religious symbols. They’re pagan symbols, but much of our Christmas imagery is.

On the other hand, the baby Jesus as a political statement? Who needs it?

As Episcopalians, we honor and respect with compassion followers of other faiths and people who don’t profess faith or follow mainstream religion, but in attempting to put that ecumenism into practice, many of us fall in to the trap of uttering “Happy Holidays.” Saying “Happy Holidays” is about like saying “Have a nice day.” Silence would be preferable.

Here’s the good news: Jesus spoke to all humankind. He wasn’t speaking just to Jews, and Christians hadn’t been invented when he was around. Christmas isn’t just for Christians. Christmas is a joyous time for all of us to remember our humanity. It’s a time of special generosity, and for Christians it’s a time of hospitality. Around Christmas, people who otherwise don’t attend church often become curious about what goes on in churches; they become intrigued by the mysteries that have become commonplace for us, and the rich symbolism of Christmas is inviting—even tantalizing. And so Christmas is a time for us as Christians to throw our doors and our hearts open in welcome, not with the intent of conversion but in the spirit of brotherhood and in sharing the joys that we have found in faith.

When we say “Merry Christmas” we sincerely mean “Joy to the World.”


Robin Allan Jones is a stagehand, scenic artist, and theatrical designer in Seattle. A member of St. Paul’s since 2005, he serves the parish as a liturgical minister.

The Advent of a Haiku

By Lynn Adams


“The most meaningful gifts are made by hand.” –Lynn’s hereditary credo


“What can I make for these dozen loved ones requiring minimum expense and time for maximum charm, starting December 10th?”

– thought I had


Five Simple Elements for an Ornament

Circle
Crosspieces
Panes
Dots
Hanger

Supplies & Equipment

Wire
Felt
Circle cutting aid
Glue gun
Beads
Buttons
Thread
Fabric

Instructions

1. …with great enthusiasm
…
11. … anticipating total delight

“This design could be made in quantity for the native journey giveaway next summer.” – thought I had

Went to Joann’s…

Things I learned in the 1st Prototype:

Rotary cutters will not cut felt
Cutting circles causes back strain
My eyes are just barely capable of stringing seed beeds
Beads on wire do not want to lie straight
Wire does not want to lie in a circle
Pearl doesn’t stick

“The overall effect will probably be ‘funky’.” – thought I had

Instructions re-imagined and re-ordered

Things I learned in the 2nd Prototype

Glue is unruly
Wire is stubborn
Tools are noncompliant
Thread is uncooperative
Beads are picky
Buttons are deceptive
Needles are elusive
I need new glasses


“I’ll be lucky to get six done.” -- thought I had

“I think my first prototype is cute enough to give.” -- another thought I had

Instructions irrelevant

“Maybe I should stick to haiku.” – thought I had


it’s all connected
thunderclap and nematode
you dear one and me


Advent blessing to all!

Lynn Adams is a longtime member of St. Paul's.

Lost and Found

By Martha Wakenshaw

Lost and Found

I lost my faith, but I'll have to check my back pocket
because I may have stuffed it there absentmindedly and
when no one was looking.

I may have put my faith in a file drawer
to be pulled out later or in the dog's bowl
by accident or the old leather messenger bag
hanging on the wall.

I feel faith trying to find me, tugging
at my sleeve like a small child.

I hear faith crying out in the wilderness in
that wild and wonderful place of unknowing.

I see faith shy and hiding in the shadows
afraid to look up.

I smell faith in the incense thrown all around
like a foggy autumn morning.

I can almost touch faith, brush my cheek
against it's warm body.

Faith plays hide and seek with me
now seeking me, now calling out
"you're it."

Martha Wakenshaw is a member of St. Paul's, a writer, and a psychotherapist. Her website can be found here.

Stress at the Saturnalia

By Samuel Torvend

It’s no different this year: experts on the talk shows are giving advice on how to deal with holiday stress, Christmas stress, seasonal stress, gift-buying stress, cooking stress – the kind of stress that emerges when some people really do expect a “perfect” holiday. It seems that stress is in the air we breathe.

Now I am not denying that a holiday can induce a measure of anxiety. Indeed, some people become nervous just getting ready for a birthday party. What bugs me is the linking of “stress” to “Christmas.” And so I wonder: is it a Christian festival that is the source of so much stress or do we need to look elsewhere?

In early the fourth century, when the celebration of Christ’s birth first emerged, Roman citizens celebrated a winter feast called the Saturnalia in honor of the god Saturn. While originally a one-day holiday, the feast became so popular that it was extended to a week, from December 17-24. Gifts were exchanged among the wealthy, and parties – with much food and much wine – were held throughout the city. Household slaves were given time off to join the revelry, a week of drunkenness and public debauchery. Houses were decorated with winter greens while burning torches and lamps could be seen everywhere – a tangible protest against the increasing darkness, as if the people were begging the light to return at the darkest and coldest time of the year.

Well, now: does any of this ring a bell? You see, I think the Saturnalia is wildly alive in American culture and in American lives. But since the late 19th century, our Saturnalia has been suffused with an incredible pressure … to buy, even if the credit card is maxed out … and feel happy, even if there is no apparent reason for such a feeling. No wonder people feel stress. No wonder some churches celebrate a “blue” Christmas in which people gather to grieve and mourn. From mid-November until Christmas Eve, the ancient Roman Saturnalia is in full swing throughout the land.

Don’t get me wrong: I eagerly look forward to this time of year, to the lights, the trees, the foods. It’s just that I prefer to celebrate Christmas rather than the Saturnalia. Indeed, when Christmas first emerged in ancient Rome, early Christian leaders guided their communities to give gifts, not to each other, but to the most vulnerable people in the city, to the poor and the homeless. They prepared lavish meals, tables groaning with food and drink, not for themselves but for the hungry and the destitute: “What you have been given at the table of the Lord – rich bread and fine wine – now give to those in need in the city,” they counseled. Their churches were filled with burning torches and huge candles, not as protests against the dark, but as living signs of God’s own burning light, God’s merciful presence shining in the most unlikely form: a vulnerable child born into poverty.

For me, the simple truth at the heart of the feast is this: where loving care for the most vulnerable takes place, where people of good-will share of their substance with those in need, where infants and children are fed, clothed, and sheltered - there is genuine comfort and joy; anxiety diminishes; the stress that accompanies the search for food, health, and community begins to dissipate. This is a deeply Christian conviction: the festival is not about me but about God with us in a world of great need. There is, truly and deeply, every chance that a season of stress can become a season of great peace.

Samuel Torvend is a member of St. Paul's and professor of the history of Christianity at Pacific Lutheran University.

Wilderness

by Alissa Newton

“A Course in Creative Writing”
by William Stafford:

They want a wilderness with a map
but how about errors that give a new start?
or leaves that are edging into the light?
or the many places a road can’t find?

Maybe there’s a land where you have to sing
to explain anything: you blow a little whistle
just right and the next tree you meet is itself.
(And many a tree is not there yet.)

Things come toward you when you walk.
You go along singing a song that says
where you are going becomes its own
because you start. You blow a little whistle

And a world begins under the map.

Mother Melissa ended her wonderful homily yesterday morning with the poem above. She spoke about the wilderness of transition - that place that occurs over and over in biblical texts and resonates so deeply with the reality of human life. It's the moment, or hour, or month, or year(s) between letting go of what was and the arrival of what is-to-be and it's a terrifying time. We traverse there everyday in some way, between sleep and waking, between leaving work and coming home, between meeting someone's eye and deciding to smile, or not to. And there are bigger moments. The four years of college are such a wilderness - not yet really grown-up, but certainly not still a child. The years after college are even more wild, for some. Being engaged to be married - not single but not married yet, that is a wilderness. Being unemployed, about to move, applying to grad school, pregnant. All these come to mind when I think of the wilderness of transition in human life. Even more the big losses - divorce, death, separation. Those are the places we really never want to go, but, as Mo. Melissa noted in her homily, sometimes we find ourselves there despite all intentions.

I'm scared of transition. I can freely admit that I am all about what is and ever planning for what might be but it is hard for me to think about the in betweens, the letting go of now for something that could be better. Maybe there's a land where you have to sing, to explain anything... This is faith, I think. The belief that in this frightening wilderness there might be something magical, adventures and learnings that cannot be planned for but nevertheless should be met with eyes wide open, and hearts hopeful. What would happen if I could embrace the unknown with joy instead of anxiety? What would happen if St. Paul's could? This Advent that lightness, that vision of the world under the map - that is one thing I am waiting for.

Alissa Newton is Jr. Warden at St. Paul's and the editor of the parish blog. This entry was adapted from her personal blog, which can be found here.

From around the Web..

Here are some advent related items that have been published or promoted around the Episcopal blogosphere or otherwise brought to my attention this week that I thought I would share:

Daily Episcopalian has a nice piece by a former Benedictine Monk about how to think about the Christmas season as Christians.

An excerpt:
Living in a Benedictine monastery taught me many valuable lessons. One of those was how to celebrate the Nativity of Jesus Christ in a way that does not insult the homeless Child of Bethlehem nor supports the lie that our lives have meaning only in terms of the national economy. The only real excess at Christmas need be the recognition of God’s extravagant love for us in giving Jesus to a broken world so that it might be made whole again. Click here for the entire thing

This Thursday was St. Nicholas day - click here to learn more about the real St. Nick.

Advent in a time of AIDS: here is a link to an online advent calendar by the Ecumenical Advocay Alliance, with a devotion for each day of Advent.
The description:
The 37 reflections in this devotional calendar demonstrate the leadership of Christians around the world who are engaged at all levels of the response to the HIV pandemic. They are prophets and pastors, leaders and lay people, women and men, HIV positive and HIV negative – all united in the conviction that by keeping our personal and collective promises, we can reach the goal of universal access to treatment, care and prevention and work towards a future without AIDS.

And finally - our wonderful webmaster, Barb, found this lovely blog which offers the Daily Office online each day.

As you all explore the world wide web, feel free to send links my way that you think others in our parish might find interesting!

-Alissa

Advent: Sweet Sorrow

by Stephen Crippen

I’m one of the people who loves Advent. The deepening darkness, the silence, the sense of longing and expectation. Readings on Sundays are bracing: warnings of end times, commands to stay awake, to keep the watch. But they are also exhilarating: a young woman is told that she’s pregnant, and that her child will bring hope and salvation to her people. All of us who are waiting—and who isn’t waiting for something?—hear the Angel’s words of encouragement: “Rejoice, favored one! The Lord is with you.”

So like all great seasons, like all great celebrations, Advent is all about paradox: in waiting, we are fulfilled. In watching, we find the face of the other, gazing back at us in the darkness. In grieving, we are comforted. The light shines all the brighter because of the deep darkness around it. I’ve been reading poetry by the 13th-Century poet Rumi, and I like how he talks about grief. This is for me an Advent poem:

I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow
and called out,
It tastes sweet, does it not?
You have caught me, grief answered,
and you have ruined my business.
How can I sell sorrow,
when you know it’s a blessing?

I’m a therapist who works with people on relationship problems, grief, and coping with change. So I know how sorrow can be a blessing, how a cup of sorrow can taste sweet. My clients (like me) usually learn the most about themselves—and grow the most—during times of sorrow, struggle, and challenge. This season doesn’t banish the darkness, or deny the sorrow that human beings experience. Advent helps us see how our sorrows and problems transform us, and strengthen us. It sounds weird, but I’ll say it anyway: may you be blessed with sweet sorrow this Advent!

Stephen is a therapist and postulant to the Diaconate. His website is linked above, and you can find his personal blog here.

The Advent of our new Parish Blog

Hello, and welcome to the St. Paul's Parish Blog! I am honored to be writing the first of many entries here by parishioners and others who are close to St. Paul's. Thanks for stopping by, and feel free to comment!

Why a Blog?
The internet is becoming more and more a part of the daily lives of those of us who attend St. Paul's, and of the people who visit us looking for a new parish home. This blog is intended for both. For parishioners it is my hope that this will be a place for conversation and expression for us. I will be asking St. Paul's folks to speak up here - from posting updates and reviews on important developments and happenings in the parish to personal reflections about spirituality, worship, and our life together.

The other purpose of this blog is to more fully express the voices of our parishioners on the web. This is linked to our homepage, and visitors to our website and our parish will be able to click their way here to experience in more detail what is important to us, what issues we're thinking and writing about, and hopefully get a better idea of who we are.

But this is just the beginning! I think there's room for this forum to go in many directions, and I'm really curious to see what happens!

Advent on the Internet
All during Advent I'll be posting reflections on the season by St. Paul's folks, and links to other Advent related posts or tools that I find in my wanderings around the internet. I'll start with this:

Diocese of Washington Online Advent Calendar: I found this via the Episcopal Cafe, which is a great starting place for those of you who are curious about what's out there for Episcopalians in terms of blogs and other internet resources related to Episcopal Spirituality and life. The Advent calendar is quite wonderful, with a new page becoming available every day that has links to meditations, an Advent Podcast, giving opportunities, and a picture of pieces from the creché exhibit at the National Cathedral.

I think I'm going to sign off on this inaugural post! Welcome to our blog, and please check back soon for more!

-Alissa Newton, Junior Warden.