"The Hay that Heals" - St. Francis and the First Live Nativity

This is a written version of my second Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and candlelight circle. I shared this meditation on St. Francis by the manger scene outdoors.

Earlier tonight, we gathered virtually by livestream to ponder the scripture, enjoy the music, and explore the meditations of this holy season. We joined in the Great Thanksgiving at the table of grace. Now we gather outdoors to receive this blessed communion and create a candlelight circle. And we do so around this manger for a reason.

Have you heard the origins of the manger scene? The manger scene was created by St. Francis of Assisi.

Francis, who was born into merchant family in Assisi of modern-day Italy, rejected his family’s wealth and even cast off his expensive garments in a public square. He founded the Franciscans, a movement that is dedicated to works of charity with the poor and marginalized. He was, of course, known as a lover of animals and all God’s creation.

In 1223, St. Francis did something special to kindle devotion on the birth of Christ, God’s concern for the poor and oppressed, and God’s love for the animal kingdom. He created the first live nativity. A generation later, in the year 1291, the first pope that was from the new Franciscan order had a permanent manger scene placed in front of one of Europe’s churches. That began the tradition of carved manger scenes we still enjoy today.

But that very first live nativity scene set up by St. Francis himself was placed near the town square. A real manger was placed there with hay, with Mary and Joseph, a carved baby Jesus doll, an ox, and an ass. Francis invited the villagers to come and gaze on the scene while he preached on the “babe of Bethlehem” (they say he was so overcome with joy, he could not say the name “Jesus”).

One witness said the wooden doll of the baby Jesus appeared to cry tears of joy and “seemed to be awakened from sleep when the blessed Father Francis embraced Him in both arms.”

There was another miracle, too, a miracle that I invite us to get our hearts in touch with during this pandemic. I call it the legend of “hay that heals.” The story is that the hay in the manger, from this very first live nativity, healed sick animals and protected people from disease.

We gather outside tonight in the middle of a world-wide pandemic that has changed our gatherings but will not kill our spirits. And we gather because of the healing power of the one who was laid in a manger.

Our staff prepared a little cluster of hay to give each family tonight. We share it with all of us who have come and gathered safely outdoors for closing communion by candlelight.

I invite your family to ponder your little bundle of hay. I invite you to place it under your tree, or on your mantle, or under your centerpiece on this most unusual Christmas Day. Tell others the story of St. Francis and the first manger scene. Recall the legend of the “hay that heals.”

We share this little gift because our world need healing right now, more than ever. We pray that the healing that pours out from the manger of grace will touch us in every broken place.

"O Holy Night" - A Super-Charged Political Statement

   

This is a written version of my first Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and closing candlelight circle. I shared a separate meditation later by the manger scene outdoors.

Did you know the classic Christmas song, "O Holy Night," contains a political statement that was bold and brazen for its time?

On Monday, many of us gazed into the sky and saw what has been dubbed the “Christmas Star.” Since this rare conjunction of planets is one way astronomers say God might have sent us the star of Bethlehem, I took it as a sign of hope in difficult times. How wonderful that for us, the "Christmas Star" happened to appear on the longest night of year. It’s been a year which has felt like one long night.

As I woke up Monday morning in what seemed like utter darkness, the song “O Holy Night” popped into my head. On the day of our darkest night, the first thing on my mind was the holiest of nights. So I did a little research.

Did you know “O Holy Night” was written in 1847? The text was written in the French language bv the French poet Placide Cappeau and set to music by French composer Adolph Adam. It wasn't translated into English until 1855.

Obviously, the major social issue blazing in the world in 1847 was slavery, and that's not just what was boiling in the United States. In fact, the following year, 1848, was the year slavery was finally abolished in France and the French colonies.

This simple fact deepens the impact of the last verse of "O Holy Night":

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,

And in his name all oppression shall cease, … 

That was a daring and direct statement with political implications! When the world was enraged and even on the brink of war over slavery, they openly sang that "the slave is our brother" and that in Christ's holy name, all such oppression shall cease. Period.

This gives us an angle on Luke's second chapter tonight. The very first "Christmas carols" in history - the canticles of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon recorded in Luke - all sing that the coming of the Messiah had everything to do with God's concern for the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.

That’s why Jesus was born in poverty. That’s why he came from a technically unwed mother. That's why his family didn’t have the connections to find a decent room when traveling to Bethlehem. That’s why they laid the baby Jesus in a messy feeding trough full of hay, and that’s why they were visited by smelly shepherds who’d been working all night long.

God adores the poor and lowly, the needy and oppressed. So in God's odd way of saving the world, God became one of them, so that Christ might save us all.

This year, which has felt like one long night, has been a year when we’ve been acutely aware of stubbornness of systemic racism, and yet we worship the one in whose name all oppression shall cease. This year, when politics have been so divisive, we worship the one whose gospel is peace. This year, when some of us live on the brink of religious division, we worship the one whose law is love. This year, when we have been dealing with the blows of a world-wide pandemic, we worship the one who taught us to love one another.

This holy child, this Messiah, this savior, this prince of peace came to not only show us what true love is, but to bust open the door holding back God's radical grace. The singers of these songs can see that the love of God saves the whole world, but especially pours out upon the places and spaces love hasn't been reaching.

May it reach you tonight.

O Holy Night

This is a Christmas gift for you, my friends, on the longest night of the year. Blessings.

Spirit of Christmas

This is an original Christmas carol to share with you, my friends.

May you have a blessed and wonder-filled season.

I wrote it years ago during seminary, when I was enrolled in a class on the history of Christian thought with Drs. Roberta Bondi  and Bill Mallard (and sitting next to an attractive young woman named Sandy O'Quinn who I was not yet married to). We were studying Athanasius, who was very influential in the 4th century in clarifying the doctrine of the incarnation. He was well known for the idea that God in Christ came down from above that we might be brought from below.

For more on Athanasius see this article.

Martin Luther on the Pandemic

Some have asked about the quote I shared this morning on dealing with a pandemic from Martin Luther, famous leader of the Protestant Reformation. 

It is from an open letter he wrote in 1527, during an outbreak of a plague in the middle of the throes of the Reformation he had started ten years earlier. I remind myself he wrote it during extremely divided times - yes, worse than ours - when people were polarized by the Reformation. Their struggle with death was filtered through their religious disagreements.

It is said that Protestants saw the plague as God’s judgment on Catholic idolatry, and Catholics accused Protestants of weakening the unity of the Church in a time of crisis. Both sides painted the opposition in the worst possible light. Luther himself was being accused of irresponsibility by staying in Wittenberg to do ministry when officials had asked religious leaders and others to flee the city. 

The open letter is entitled “Whether One May Flee from a Deadly Plague.” I shared only part of the quote this morning (the boldfaced part), but it is so incredibly applicable to our times that I am giving you a more complete quote from this famous spiritual giant:

“Others sin on the right hand. They are much too rash and reckless, tempting God and disregarding everything which might counteract death and the plague. They disdain the use of medicines; they do not avoid places and persons infected by the plague, but lightheartedly make sport of it and wish to prove how independent they are. They say that it is God’s punishment; if he wants to protect them he can do so without medicines or our carefulness. That is not trusting God but tempting him. . . .

“No, my dear friends, that is no good. Use medicine; take potions which can help you; fumigate house, yard, and street; shun persons and places where your neighbor does not need your presence or has recovered, and act like a man who wants to help put out the burning city. What else is the epidemic but a fire which instead of consuming wood and straw devours life and body? You ought to think this way: ‘Very well, by God’s decree the enemy has sent us poison and deadly offal. Therefore I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine, and take it. I shall avoid persons and places where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance infect and pollute others, and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me, and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbor needs me, however, I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely, as stated above. See, this is such a God-fearing faith because it is neither brash nor foolhardy and does not tempt God’.”

Imitate the Fish

 

What is Truly Essential about Wesleyan Spirituality?

These are difficult times in North American Methodism. I don’t know what all the answers are related to moving forward, though I know unequivocally that I am not leaving my spiritual home.

I believe traditional, centrist, and progressive United Methodist are called to love and serve together and move forward in history, allowing diversity of thought and practices rather than drawing lines in the sand mirroring the culture wars of America, over issues that are not even mentioned in the gospels or the ancient creeds. It’s in our Wesleyan DNA to be connectional, and  it’s Christ’s vision for the Church evident in his prayer for us in John 17. We are indeed better together.

What is essential to Wesleyan spirituality that will guide us through these times and help us move forward together? I found an excellent article on this subject here and wanted to share it with you.

If you’d like to hear more about our efforts to stay in the UMC, see this website.

#stayumc