LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

13:35–37).

      To be in hope this time of year is to keep our eyes open, open for each and every moment when the light shines in the darkness, when the mystery at the heart of it all reveals itself, unveils itself. But that means looking deep into the dark, not gazing at the tree lights till it all becomes a multicolored blur. That means finding, in the hospitals and homeless shelters, the lonely hearts and empty hands about us, and within us, the meaning of it all, the secret, not just of this festival of light, but of the feast of life itself, that truth beyond all death, that life, true life is born, begins, and never ever ends, in love.

      •

      Now may the God of hope fill us with all joy and peace in believing, so that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, we may abound in hope. Amen.

1. Khayyam, Rubaiyat.

Monday

      A Prayer to Open Advent

      For a gray November sky

      with a filigree of bare branches

      outlined against one patch of blue,

      for random swatches of bright gold and scarlet

      fallen around the bases of tall trees,

      for the calling of the geese on the move overhead,

      their trailing, V-shaped skeins lifting eyes and hearts

      to the heavens and beyond,

      for a touch of frost on the lawn,

      and that feathery first flake of falling snow,

      for family tables circled with fond laughter, honest prayer,

      bright candles, good food, rich stories, new and old,

      the young ones, the not-so-young,

      the cheery, noisy moments, the quiet, thoughtful ones,

      for long and easy walks with dogs,

      crackling log fires, bright colored cards in the mail,

      remembrances of folk and moments almost now forgot,

      yet still bearing a light and lingering joy,

      so many gifts, so many blessings

      to thank you for, our God,

      in this past week of high Thanksgiving.

      And now we turn again toward the manger.

      We begin to trace once more those familiar,

      age-old hopes and dreams, prophecies in song and story,

      well-worn traditions of both church and fireside.

      We make plans for moments of rejoicing

      to be experienced and enjoyed just up ahead.

      And as we think of all such blessed sharing,

      as we take up our daily walk to Bethlehem

      where God shared himself with us,

      we take time to think of others, those in danger

      and distress, all those in desperate need,

      those who face terrible decisions,

      those with no possible decisions left to be made,

      all those in whom the face of Christ

      lies waiting to be recognized and welcomed.

      Slow us down, O God, this Advent season.

      Let us savor every sparkling winter sunrise,

      every golden sunset. Let us claim again the grace

      that shapes each moment of our days,

      and let us live that love that leads us toward life,

      that simplest, deepest, truest love of all,

      the love we will discover in the stable among the straw.

      All this we ask in the tender, gracious,

      world-embracing name of the Bethlehem babe,

      our Savior, Jesus. Amen.

      Advent Invitation

      Step into a four-Sabbath world

      that begins with a whisper—

      “Keep your eyes peeled”—

      concludes with the cry of a child in the night,

      a realm that is bounded by the fling of five candlelight,

      the range of a quavering voice reading words

      that sound old and familiar, yet strange,

      full of wonder and wanting,

      a domain hung with banners of purple,

      decked with green, living branches,

      and spangled with frost, touched by star-beam.

      You will meet friendly beasts,

      an Orient wisdom, and folk from the fields.

      Whatever you do, you’ll be changed just a bit,

      your blood colder, or warmer, you’ll see.

      One more thing. There is danger here,

      much to be risked, perhaps all to be won.

      Now take a deep breath. Let’s begin.

      Going to Bethlehem

      Four weeks to cross the continents

      and oceans to a town that is transformed

      by twenty centuries of troubled times.

      Four weeks in which to travel down

      the weary corridors, two thousand years

      of looking back and looking forward.

      Four weeks for tramping the harsh pathways

      of the shopping malls trying to buy the one gift

      that has never been for sale.

      Four weeks to light four candles

      in the sanctuary of the heart, and then

      a fifth one to illuminate the heart of God.

      Four weeks for learning mystery, for turning

      darkness toward light, for yearning, day

      by day, toward that burning flame of welcome

      that kindles there within the waiting manger.

      Hanging The Greens

      We bring the outside in

      this chill and waning season,

      cut boughs and branches,

      strands of light and living green,

      and deck them all about the walls

      and ledges of our houses, make believe

      we fashion an enchanted forest glade

      to frame our festive celebrations.

      Evergreens, we call them,

      though they bleed and die so soon,

      in over-heated rooms. Yet that dying

      lends a fragrance and a grace, foretells,

      if we will heed, another time and space,

      where tree and thorns, no longer green,

      fulfil

Скачать книгу