Compassion: AdventWord Day 14

We are one of those families now with a doorbell camera. This isn’t because we are overly anxious about safety- although life with four kids does put a parent on edge- or someone sniping a Target package from our front steps during the holidays.

Well maybe. Amber does love her deliveries of chai tea.

We really got it because we enjoy seeing the silly reactions of neighborhood kids as they come to our porch looking to play with one of our maniacs. The conversations we have with them through the microphone when not home are equally entertaining.

Most times we know who is at the door with no need for the camera. We have learned neighborhood kids have unique patterns of ringing that sucker that leads our spawns to barrel off the couch and run ready to make some mischief. They know who is there with impeccable accuracy.

But it is nice, when we do not know, to be able to see who is on the porch. Especially at night. Or when someone is home alone. We can feel more at ease about opening the door.

Poet and mystic, Thich Nhat Hanh, writes,

Please call me by my true names

So I can wake up

and the door of my heart

could be left open

the door of compassion

Compassion, which means to suffer with someone, requires we know the truth of another and their pain. This helps us know how and if we are even to be invited into their struggle. Compassion also demands a tougher task, to know ourselves. To confront the truths, even the most brash and brutal ones, about who we are. Then we can know how we can respond to the suffering of a friend or stranger. We can also know how and who we risk vulnerability to let through the doors of our hearts.

Either way, the call of compassion is to openness and truth telling. Only then can we be awakened to God with us and for us and among us, in friends and strangers alike. Only then can we be those who enter into the suffering of others…or let others into our own.

Holy: #AdventWord Day 25

This olive wood pendant cost less than a dollar. The story behind it: priceless. In 2019, I pilgrimaged to Bethlehem with a group of pastors and ministry leaders. One of the organizing pastors arranged for us to stop at a local vendor not far from the traditional site of Jesus’ birth. We had just driven past the 25-foot wall that segregates Israeli from Palestinian land and heard first-hand stories of the occupation. A present-day apartheid, local Palestinians live in fear of military raids that have abducted children and ripped apart families. This U.S. pastor had previously lived in Bethlehem. Early into his family’s arrival, they experienced one of these military raids, only to find sanctuary in the home of this Palestinian shop owner.  “I promised his family,” the pastor shared with us, “that if I ever returned with friends, I would be sure to return the favor in generosity.” I dropped more than a few bucks on souvenirs. Yet this small olive wood dove is my favorite. Every time I wear it, I am reminded of the story and the holy happenings in Bethlehem. 

Holy means to be set apart, distinct, and marked as sacred. Holy is not about extravagance or high price tags. The holy happens in the small acts of loving kindness that point us towards the God of justice and compassion. The holy shows up when we participate in welcome and sanctuary, story telling and advocacy. The holy can be found in brittle olive wood pendants worn as reminders of the fragility of human life and the walls of oppression that run throughout Bethlehem and our communities, too. The holy also happens when we hold onto hope and exercise our faith as imaginative power* until these walls come tumbling down. 

*See Mitri Raheb, Faith in the Face of Empire: The Bible through Palestinian Eyes (129-130).

Rejoice: #AdventWord Day 22

“The old argument,” Voldemort said softly. “But nothing I have seen in the world has supported your famous pronouncement that love is more powerful than my kind of magic, Dumbledore.”

“Perhaps you have been looking in the wrong places,” suggested Dumbledore.

We are nearly through the sixth book of Harry Potter. I took a screen shot of this page, much to the embarrassment of my kids, so I would remember this brilliant exchange between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Classic nerd and dad move. It says so much about where I am these days- caught between the tragedy of Voldemort’s lost imagination brought about by trauma and the desire to know where to rejoice in love found. Am I looking in the wrong places? Is joy an old argument? 

I don’t think so. This week, as numerous doctors, hospital chaplains, and medical personnel received some of the first vaccinations, love and hope and reason to rejoice was found a bit. In these places, I saw flickers of God with us. 

We are in the home stretch towards Christmas. We are also at a pivotal turn in this pandemic. The days before us may be harder still, joy may be difficult to find in light of such heavy loss, and the call to rejoice seem both strange and unreasonable. We may not always feel it. Be kind to yourself in these moments. Feel what you feel...or do not feel. But also trust the love of God with us is beyond an old argument or magical sentiment. So find a friend to help you look for love in the right, or at least different, places. You may even find it in the manger- the divine assurance that despite the distance and despair, we are not completely alone in this madness.

Turn: #AdventWord Day 21

I have unapologetically posted a lot of my kids lately. Frankly, in light of all things pandemic, they have been my entire world. Literally. They have been my co-workers and classmates, students and mess makers, snugglers and toilet cloggers, demanding customers and tech support, beloveds and pain in the...

But we belong to each other and this one has made the turn to FOUR. She is ferociously fierce and wildly independent. Her imagination runs unhinged and her boundaries are impenetrable. Our youngest is determined and resilient and has reminded us each morning is a brand new chance to get at it. Our four-year-old does not ease into the day; she attacks the new round of 24.

Advent is the beginning of the Christian year. Advent and, more so, Christmas is when we hone in on life’s newest beginnings- a child laid in a manger. This year, the turn of the calendar may be more welcome than any previously encountered. We long for 2020 to be over and a new one to bring fresh hope and possibilities, relief and just maybe the coming together again. I know I don’t want to celebrate another Christmas in isolation. I also don’t want to celebrate her fifth birthday apart from her friends and family. So here’s to the liturgical pivot we make this December. May it bring a turn toward healing and justice, reconciliation and community, social gatherings and real hugs, and a whole lot of vaccines, too. I’m ready to attack the next 365 with the fierce resilience I have learned from our child...and the One who was laid in the manger, too.

“My heart shall sing of the day you bring/ Let the fires of your justice burn/ Wipe away all tears/ For the dawn draws near/ And the world is about to turn!” (Canticle of Turning)

Learn: #AdventWord Day 19

This is how we learn in 2020. Tablet. Robe. Extension cord. Zoom. Pajama bottoms if off screen. While in person cannot and should not be replaced, our kids’ need for social interaction more apparent than ever, the virtual platforms have been holy gifts for education and formation in the midst of all things COVID. 

Thank you teachers!

They have also been the avenues to learn about and participate in social movements of our day, explore the beauty of our human connection across the globe, worship and partake in the sacraments, see loved ones most vulnerable to the disease while at a safe distance, and view historical moments in a year that has taken its toll on all of us. We have also learned resilience, modeled best by our children and youth of this generation. 

One of my favorite parts of the Advent pilgrimage is the emphasis on generations and the basic assumption that the faithful have passed this sacred story down throughout the ages. Salvation history was learned and God’s promises clung to with faith and courage, mystery and anticipation, and a fair share of wonder if God would ultimately come through on behalf of God’s beloved creation. The way this story was passed on took resilience and innovation, memory and trust in the midst of the struggles, oppressions, griefs, and turmoil of every age. The same holds true today as we continue to be “like those who dream” (Psalm 126) of God’s promised deliverance once and for all. So learn well in the midst of the madness, hold on hope tight-knuckled, the next generation will need to know of God’s faithfulness, too. What they learn from us can have a lasting impact on their imaginations and dreams.

Worship: #AdventWord Day 17

Worship happens in ordinary space and time. While there is a place for the elaborate and extravagant, the story of Jesus’ birth and events that surrounded it remind us worship happens in unconventional places and through people who may not feel so polished in preparation. Actually, these are frequent elements to facilitate the extravagance of God’s love and grace. 

The last few months, worship has occurred in the catacomb of my basement. I have poured orange juice in the cup and placed pop tarts on the plate, both purchased on my pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 2019. I have worn stoles and sweat pants simultaneously, to include a stole made by a local friend and colleague in ministry. I have preached in worship as my kids build with Legos in the living room above me or flushed a toilet as background noise to prayers led. I have virtually participated in ecumenical and interfaith vigils and marches as my littlest curls up on the couch offscreen and plays with her dolls. Worship has happened here with great frequency, despite the separation from traditional liturgical locations. 

While I am eager to get back to being in the physical presence of siblings of the faith, I have found a breath of fresh air in the deconstruction of worship that has taken place these last few months as we prioritize love of neighbor through social distancing. Along the way, we have been reminded that worship is not limited to what we manufacture. Worship hinges on our commitment to follow the One who is with us wherever we go. Worship is the lens through which we view the world and our movement through it...even virtually...or behind an inn as shepherds and magi  from the East gather to pay homage to the great Liberator of all generations. Worship well this Advent. Worship where you are and as you are and for the sake of neighborly love as incarnations of this worship.

Rest: #AdventWord Day 16

What’s your outlet? What practice reminds you life is more than a dead end? 

Over the last five years, mine has been running. Two half marathons, multiple Ten-Mile Broad Street Runs, and countless 5k races for local charities in the books. I have pushed through injuries and endured local routes with little flat terrain. I have learned the value of pace setting and controlled breathing, compression pants and good shoes, scenic routes and a solid playlist. The last nine months, though, have not been kind to my runs. My distances have declined and times slowed. My body has ached and motivation has wavered. There is a physiological reality to running, and when the mind is weary the impact transfers everywhere else, too. 

So at the end of December, I will be committing to the discipline of rest. I will take a five-week sabbath from running to let my body and mind heal. I will also explore a different outlet to stay fresh until I lace up again. After all, to rest is not to quit, but to remember we are not machines. Resting is the sacred settling and holy pause in preparation for the days ahead. God knew what God was doing when sabbath was commanded. People of this generation need rest now maybe more than ever. What’s your rhythm of rest? Find it. Take it. Don’t excuse it away, knowing Sabbath was practiced even in the midst of oppressive exile.

Go: #AdventWord Day 15

Wherever you go there is the chance to encounter holy witnesses to the goodness of humanity. Yesterday’s walk in a local park was no different. As we made our way up the hill to a favorite spot, we saw a random Christmas ball hanging from a tall pine.

Then another.

And another.

And another.

Endless trees were marked with single seasonal spheres and reflected the natural surroundings. A few ceramic stars danced from branches, too. We are not sure if the ornaments were hung by park caretakers or strangers (read: elves) on their own hike. The holy is also in the mystery. We do know there was a coordinated effort by the local park to hang beautiful butterfly ornaments on trees that lined the final stretch of the trail, each donated in honor of an essential worker during COVID. These present day heroes go to the frontlines of the ongoing battle against this pandemic to serve those most impacted. The love of God is found in their work, too. This Advent, wherever you go, keep those eyes and ears open to the signs of God with us. Maybe you are the very vessel God will incarnate this love come down at Christmas- quite possibly secretly and without recognition. 

Baptize: #AdventWord Day 12

I lit this candle for the first time last night. These symbols were presented to my parents when I was baptized in the Lutheran Church; I have held onto them since I was a kid. I am not sure why I never lit the candle before yesterday. While I would love to say the first light was a hauntingly holy moment, it was rather ordinary. In my basement office with computer cables in the backdrop, an old couch, and a small window with cobwebs needed to be vacuumed away, the wick only held the flame for a few seconds and then fizzled out. 

I guess 37 years in waiting is a long time to expect much more. 

Advent isn’t always a time when we think of our baptism...but maybe we should. After all, the incarnation is God’s baptism into the fullness of humanity, in all the ordinariness and brokenness, mystery and confusion, chaos and wonder, goodness and despair. The story of Christmas is when we celebrate God’s claim on the universality of human life by becoming human life. We remember the holiness of life is not in perfected sentimentality or over-filtered moments; holiness is in the every day and the ordinary, the unrefined and disheveled. You do not achieve holiness. Holiness is God’s gift and is found when a little one is sprinkled with tap water before the community of faith or an adult is submerged in a creek just beyond the muddy water’s edge. The sacred is encountered when a childhood candle is lit for the first time in 37 years in an unfinished basement in the middle of a pandemic as a memory of God’s love and grace...and then flickers out, only to be lit again and again.  Wherever you are this Advent, remember your baptism. Remember you are God’s beloved. Maybe even consider baptism for the first time.

Mercy: #AdventWord Day 11

On Monday, I came upstairs from a zoom call and our kids were elbows-deep painting at the kitchen table. We are only in December and winter activities to occupy these minions is already a stressor. They had dozens of papers spread out, with colorful works of art ranging from Christmas trees to abstractions crafted by the imagination of an almost-four year old.  Around dinner time, we noticed another colorful canvas- our new curtains. Red paint at about hand height of same almost-four year old. 

“I didn’t do it.” 🙄

We mustered up whatever kind of mercy we could find, not wanting to squash the creative vibes.  At the same time...new freakin’ curtains! Lord have mercy for the words spoken as we scrubbed the fabric clean-ish.

Biblical translators often interchange mercy with loving kindness or steadfast love. The Hebrew word for this theological term is *hesed*. It is all over the psalms, “steadfast love and faithfulness will meet” (Psalm 85:10). The prophets are fond of it, too, “What does the Lord require of you, O mortal? Do justice, love mercy (loving kindness), and walk humbly with God” (Micah 6:8). Much like the paint in our kitchen by way of our four kiddos, the loving kindness and mercy of God is playfully and irrationally splattered throughout the pages of Scripture. Hesed shows up not only in the form of God’s faithfulness to a people whose faith wavers, but also in the same people’s constant quest to mirror the steadfast love of God in their treatment of one another and the stranger. This merciful loving kindness is messy and not always rational; hesed makes room for forgiveness and shows up in creative and colorful spaces to wonder in the waiting. We are in just as much need of hesed as we are called to live into it. Where might you see this mercy? Where might you participate in it all the more? Thanks be to God for Immanuel, hesed in human form. 

*Art by Mayah. Finger paint on construction paper (not curtain). 2020

Patient: #AdventWord Day 10

This candle says it all. In light of present realities, we may find ourselves at the end of our proverbial wicks and struggling to remain illuminated. Patience may be burned down before the day even begins. You are not alone.

I have always cringed when someone has said to me, just be patient. Even worse, in the midst of trauma, that well-intentioned person who naively claims, “God is teaching you patience.” Neither of these work for me. I don’t think there is much theological validation, let alone human decency, for these platitudes either. Patience is not taught or achieved; patience is practiced and, frequently, begrudgingly endured. The patience of God is like the friend who sits with you in the silence of your grief, offering presence over trite answers, hoping against hope that the way things are will not always be. This Advent, patiently waiting may look more like sitting in this kind of solidarity, holding space for the raw rants of frustration and sorrow and daring to believe God is with us in the madness of it all. It’s ok if your wick of patience is burned down and out and you struggle to stay lit. Let other candles patiently hold the light for and alongside you.

**Today, my prayers are especially with those who have patiently endured isolation longer than most, for older adults and those with vulnerable medical conditions. You are loved.

Comfort: #AdventWord Day 9

Our son has had this blanket and kitty since he was born. The cat does not have a known origin. It may have been accidentally snagged from the children’s ministry at our old church. Whoops. The blanket was a handmade gift from a family friend’s mother. Our son has no memory of her. This thing has been through the ringer. Crocheted by a stranger to him, his blankie provides endless comfort as he tickles the threads between his fingers and toes.

As I think of the solidarity I have experienced in moments of struggle, stress, and debilitating angst, sometimes the greatest source of comfort has come from strangers. While those who know you best and love you most can provide their fair share of empathy, there is nothing like the unexpected display of compassion and love from one who has no agenda, obligation, or real or perceived need for reciprocation. The writer of Hebrews calls this demonstration of hospitality (literally translated: φιλοξενίας or love of strangers/foreigners) entertaining angels...or conversely being entertained by angels (13:2). It is a real and holy thing to participate in and benefit from this strange exchange of hospitality. This Advent, may we be open to being both entertained by and the entertainer of angels. God knows we have more than enough reasons to crave comfort.

Check out the calendar of words for sacred imaging through AdventWord.

Speak: #AdventWord Day 8

 

The amplification of our voices has taken on creative modalities the last several months. In order to hear and be heard, we have had to tap into both complex and basic mediums to speak to one another and maintain human connection. Yet, what has been most compelling has been how community organizers have pushed beyond potential communication constraints and creatively taken to Twitter, Tik Tok, YouTube, podcasts, and much more to mobilize social concerns and advocate for a more just world. Siblings near and far have leveraged SMS services and basic phone calls to work on behalf of the cries and concerns of those most marginalized, brutalized, and neighbors whose words have been silenced and final breaths claimed by the powers that be. I have wondered often this last year when God might speak more definitively. In these moments I am reminded this is precisely how- God speaks through each of us, even on the digital circuits. God speaks through us as we speak on behalf of those for whom Christ most identified, the oppressed ones.

On this Feast of St. Nicholas Day, when we remember the badass Bishop of Myra who was abolitionist, advocate for the wrongfully convicted, and relentless pursuer of justice, how are we using our voices? Who are we advocating for? May we earn the right to be heard. And if your voice has been silenced for whatever reason, know there is a God who sees and hears you still. Immanuel, God with us.

Check out the calendar of words for sacred imaging through AdventWord.

Empathy before Resurrection: When Tears Need to Come First

This morning’s gospel story hinges on the raising of Lazarus, one of Jesus’ closest friends. The story is laced in emotions and may be one of those places where we see Jesus most vulnerable. He learns of Lazarus’ death and “he began to weep.”

If I am honest, that’s where I am most days right now. Sure, I trust we will be delivered from this mess. I am hopeful the financially broken, food insecure, and homeless will find their provision and shelter. I dare to believe doctors and scientists will discover our way out of this, to cure the sick and unbind humanity from this pandemic. Yes, the stench of this quarantine will pass (and, let’s be real, we do not shower as often these days, so the stench is ripening by the hour). 

But for now, I find more comfort in the empathetic tears of Christ than in the miracle of Lazarus’ resurrection. That’s because we are still in the thick of the unknown where promises of resurrection may feel empty at best and naive at worst. And Jesus knows this. So before he speaks or acts too quickly, he empathizes and weeps with his friends. Only then, likely, can these same friends trust Jesus to raise their dead brother and participate in his unbinding. 

But first he cries sacred tears. May these tears of an empathetic God meet you with holy comfort in these days. 

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When the shelter in place, quarantine began in our household, Lily and I started morning #LilyLectioDivina. We pull out the lectionary Psalm and Sunday gospel and the font of her fingers illustrate the words of Scripture. Here's the running playlist :)

On Ancestors and Heritage Discovered: #AdventWord Day 17

ANCESTOR

On February 25, 1965, Walter R. Heath passed away after a life of 80 years. Along with a fondness for baseball and always looking his Sunday best, Mr. Heath loved Jesus and served as a devoted member and ruling elder at Faith Presbyterian Church just outside of Baltimore, MD.

That's all I know about Walter R. Heath. Aside from one more detail, Elder Heath was my maternal great-great grandfather. He was also the only Presbyterian in my family, that is, until I was ordained fifty years (nearly to the day) after his death. 

God’s Spirit has a funny way of moving through our ancestors- just look at the genealogy of Jesus. Many of them were a hot mess; others were quite courageous. We learn a great deal about who we are through who has been before us, both the good and the ill; we even discern who we long to be as we either build upon witness or break cycles of previous generations. I have my share of family members who have done both, for which I am grateful. I pray the same holds true for my children. I also pray my work and witness is a good (Presbyterian) homage to Great-Great Grandpa Heath.

Read All Posts: https://eb.adventword.org/author/GregKlimovitz/  

To Sing Is to Be Human: #AdventWord Day 16

SING
Throughout history, organized movements of influence and change haved included song. When words are sung, they have the capacity to enter into the wide range of human experiences, challenge oppressive power structures, provoke the prophetic imagination, comfort the afflicted, and spark alternative visions for communities strained by generations of neglect and injustice. So it is no wonder Mary and Zechariah both sang upon the announcements of both Jesus and John’s conception. They were tapping into a cultural medium that transcended spoken and written words, because to sing is to be human and in rhythm with the holy. I think this is why we love watching and listening to kids sing so much this time of year; we are celebrating their simple and unrefined participation in the rhythm of what God is up to all around us. May we all have the eyes to see, ears to hear, and voices to sing just the same.

Read All: https://social.adventword.org/author/gregklimovitz/

Rejoicing as Resistance: #AdventWord Day 14

REJOICE

Birthdays are a pretty big deal in our house. We tend to gush a bit over the birthday kid, even when one is so close to Christmas. In the midst of a circus life, it is important to us to stop and REJOICE over the one among the many. 

The biblical story is full of calls to rejoice. The invitation to jubilation was beyond sentiment; to celebrate was to affirm no matter where they lived, who was in political power, or the threats posed by social and economic circumstances, God’s steadfast love abounded and would be with them. In this light, whether Mary or the shepherds, we are able to see their rejoicing as resistance to the fear, angst, and narratives of scarcity or oppression that regularly threatened God’s people. They refused to surrender celebration, because to rejoice was to defy despair, resist the grips of empire, and affirm again God’s everlasting promises. So this season, and every season, dare to shout “hosanna in the highest,” and do so as protest against whatever shadows or systems infringe upon God’s dreams for this beloved world.

All Posts: https://social.adventword.org/author/gregklimovitz/ 

Not Quitting but Preparing to Lead: #AdventWord Day 14

PREPARE

There are days when I raise some pretty raw existential questions about this whole church experiment. I wonder, does what we what we offer alongside our neighbors and communities near and far make any difference at all? These are the days I am grateful for the work I do alongside seminarians. As we prepare one another for new approaches to ministry, creative enactments of the gospel, and intentional expressions of love and welcome, we affirm God is still invested in this broken yet beautiful organism called the church. Every time I talk with these budding leaders, hear their call stories, make space for their questions, and listen to their passions for intersecting the biblical story with the present realities swirling among us, I am reminded God has not given up on us for one second. The Spirit is still awakening people to follow Jesus. This gives me great hope; this helps me not to bail but take greater and bolder risks as we make even the smallest of preparations for God’s world we dare to believe will be made whole and good and right again.

Pruning Questions: #AdventWord Day 13

PRUNE

I certainly do not have a green thumb. What I do know, though, is if I do not prune these roses they will not be as full in the spring; their growth will be slowed. If I want the flowers to achieve their boldest and brightest potential, what is dead and dry should be cut away.

The agrarian metaphor is a good one for the season. Advent is a time to consider what it means for both individuals and faith communities to be pruned by the One who dwelled among us to shape us more into the likeness of God. It is a sacred time to ask, where can angst and fear, greed and divisive speech be cut away so contentment and love, generosity and welcome can bloom? Where can lust for power and thirst for control be snipped so equity and human dignity can grow boldly and beautifully? How can aggression and deceit be hacked so peace and truth telling can blossom? Will we dare allow busyness to be trimmed to make room for play, advocacy, or small acts of kindness offered to a neighbor...or an enemy? Will we let invasive bitterness to be thinned out just enough for grace and forgiveness to flourish? There are so many more pruning questions to ponder as we get our hands dirty and trust the Spirit to cultivate new life among us- even within and through us. Advent is a good time to ask them.

Read All Posts: https://eb.adventword.org/author/GregKlimovitz/ 

Smooth Waters & Ripples of Goodness: #AdventWord Day 12

SMOOTH

The waters of the Delaware River ran calm and smooth yesterday morning. As I stood on its western bank in the city of Chester, there was a gentleness to the current as it reflected images of birds hovering above the flow. And I found myself caught a bit in the sacred serenity of the moment. 

Chester is not really known by outsiders as scenic or sacred. Most of the news stories run by local outlets are draped in despair, violence, poverty, addiction, hunger, and lack of opportunity. Yet, when you get to know local residents, community leaders, and movers and shakers in the neighborhood church, this is not the full story. Like a river running alongside the city, there are faithful ripples of goodness mobilized by residents who dare to smooth over the rocky realities of social and systemic brokenness through organized initiatives of empowerment. And if we have the eyes to see and ears to hear, as the birds linger over the Delaware, so does God’s Spirit over this city not forsaken. The same holds true for all our cities, neighborhoods, and nations, if we stop to take notice.

Read All Posts: https://eb.adventword.org/author/GregKlimovitz/