Even the Angels Weep

There’s a single image that keeps coming into my head in light of last week’s events at Sandy Hook Elementary School. If you walk down Main Street and head up the hill toward Old Ship Church and wrap around the bell tower into Hingham Cemetery you encounter a particularly striking gravestone. There’s a full-sized weeping angel draped over a sizable stone marker. The angel’s head is down on top of her right forearm while her left arm hangs over the edge with limp fingers pointed toward the earth. Her body language speaks of utter helplessness and defeat and the statue conveys the emotion of profound grief. A grief that transcends words; a grief that is raw and unrelenting. This has been the posture of a nation shocked by the slaughter of 20 innocent children among the dead in Newtown, Connecticut, and I can’t stop reflecting on this angel of grief. And yet even in the midst of this pain, the angel’s wings remain upright and majestic enfolding the grave marker in a gesture of embrace and a symbol of hope.

I walk up to the cemetery sometimes and just stand in front of that angel. I think about people that I have known and lost over the years. I think about the many people I have buried in my own priestly ministry — their stories, their struggles, their families, their faith. I think about the senseless killings that pervade our world through mass murder and war and acts of terror. I think about the presence of evil in our world and about the demons that drive people to desperation. And I think about the God of all hope who weeps when we weep and rejoices when we rejoice and is present to all who call upon his name.

Faith in the God whose peace surpasses all human understanding doesn’t ease the immediacy of grief. Yet there’s something about a statue so delicately carved into so solid a material. Perhaps it’s a metaphor for the fragility of human life built upon the rock of our salvation. As Christians, we place our faith upon the cornerstone that is Jesus Christ even in the midst of our own questions and doubts and weaknesses.

It’s true that human tragedy strips away the non-essentials of life and brings us right back to the things that matter most — love, faith, compassion, and companions along the journey with whom we share these things. It’s also a reminder, in these days leading up to Christmas, that this season isn’t just about a cute yet helpless baby cooing in a stable but about our very salvation. It reminds us that Christmas isn’t just about the trimmings and trappings but about the miracle of God entering the world in human form; a world that can feel so full of darkness.

Finally, it reminds us that for all of the white lights in all of the windows along Main Street, for all the fresh garland adorning white picket fences, for all the beautifully trimmed trees in homes visible from the street, there are people hurting out there. There are people who go without this season; there are people for whom the holidays bring more emotional pain than cheer; there are people living with deep anxiety; there are people who are in the throes of profound grief in a small Connecticut town. Our faith calls this dissonance out into the light and bids us to act on behalf of the poor and downtrodden, the emotionally fragile and the sick, and those who weep and mourn.

In these waning days before Christmas, I can’t help but think about the gifts that have already been wrapped and lovingly placed underneath the tree; wrapping paper that will never be torn apart; squeals of glee that will never ring out; hugs of love and gratitude that will never be felt. Yet amid this season, amid the darkness that sometimes pierces our world, Christians still point to the light of salvation that burns in our hearts and illuminates the world with peace, hope, and salvation even in the midst of despair.

Christmas is a Ticking Time Bomb

Do you hear that? It’s the ticking time bomb set to explode on December 25th. The one that will detonate whether or not the Christmas shopping gets done, the Christmas cards are sent out on time, or the vanilla meringues sag. The one that’s turned the most wonderful time of year into a race against time and replaced holy anticipation with high anxiety.

Most of society treats this time of year like an hourglass — not the slow soap opera version “Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives” — but the small one you set before a round of Boggle that leaves you frantically scrambling to find words before time runs out. The sand of our seasonal hourglass drips out all too rapidly, reminding us of the time slipping away; precious time we need not for spending time with one another and enjoying this holy season but for all that we need to get done. Christmas becomes yet another deadline in our deadline-driven lives rather than a joyful moment of expectation and hope.

It used to be that  our Advent calendars and wreaths heightened the anticipation leading to the fulfillment of Incarnational joy. Now the opening of doors and the building of light cause hearts to race rather than revel. These time-honored traditions bring more stress than joy. Not to mention guilt for eating chocolate every morning.

We’ve done this to ourselves, of course. We’ve lit the fuse and literally bought into the consumerism that drives this season at the expense of our faith. The good news is that there is still hope for us. We can recapture Christmas and savor it as a time of comfort and joy rather than anxiety and stress. It takes a reorientation of our spiritual compass but with some help we’ll find that star to guide us toward the manger in way that causes our souls to sing with joy rather than shrink with disquietude.

In Biblical times when people sought to repent and return to the Lord they looked toward prophets. The prophetic message was only effective when a community recognized the need for transformation but I think we can agree that the way we approach Christmas has gotten away from us. Fortunately  Advent is dominated by a prophet who calls us back to the basics. You won’t find an eight-foot-tall inflatable John the Baptist on your neighbor’s front lawn but he looms over Advent like no other figure. John, the forerunner of the Messiah, the one who prepares us for the arrival of the Christ child boldly and loudly proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. During Advent he cuts a path through the shiny external trappings of the season while calling us to focus on the interior essentials of our faith.

The Baptist reminds us this isn’t about a so-called war on Christmas; it’s about a war for Christmas. He’s passionate about the arrival of Jesus because God entering the world in human form is the bedrock of our faith. The Incarnation matters because without it, our faith is merely a house of Christmas cards, capable of  being knocked down by Jack Frost’s gentlest breath. But with it, the world is transformed into a place where Resurrection glory reigns supreme and we live into our full potential as children of God.

So simply being aware of our need to recapture Christmas is an important first step. It’s an acknowledgment that, to quote the Grinch, “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.” It’s about recapturing the delight and joy of spending time with one another while welcoming Jesus anew into our hearts and minds and souls. This time of year shouldn’t and needn’t be about obligatory presents and strategizing over re-gifting scented candles. I’m not saying shopping is evil or that we shouldn’t put up Christmas decorations. Hardly. But I am saying it’s so important to have a foot in both worlds; to take time to reflect upon why we’re doing all of this; to think about the meaning behind the madness. Otherwise we’re simply feeding the Christmas-Industrial Complex and missing the larger message of hope and salvation.

In Good Faith: Season Creep — The Lost Art of Waiting

My latest monthly column explores the reasons we can’t seem to enjoy one holiday without jumping ahead to the next one. I call this “Season Creep” and it’s both  insidious and harmful to the soul.

Season Creep — The Lost Art of Waiting

By the Rev. Tim Schenck

Season Creep. It’s what happens when Halloween candy is put out with Back-to-School sales and Christmas decorations are up before Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day chocolates are juxtaposed with New Year’s noisemakers. People have been bemoaning this for years even as we keep feeding into it. “I can’t believe they’re having a Christmas sale in the middle of November!” we proclaim with righteous indignation as we slap down our credit card to get a great deal on an xBox.

It’s easy to complain about the madness of it all; to reminisce about the days of yore when we actually enjoyed one season before moving on to the next. It’s harder to do something about it. It’s harder to change our lifestyle to reflect a healthier and ultimately more fulfilling approach to the changing of the seasons.

But first it’s helpful to think about why we’re in such a hurry. Why are we so ready to drop one holiday for the next even while the first holiday is still going on? Why do we have to plot out our Christmas shopping strategy while still eating pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving Day? Why can’t we be more attentive to living in the moment and enjoying the present before jumping to the next big thing? As easy as it is to foist blame on the nameless, faceless “culture of materialism,” I think it transcends consumerism and marketing.

We also have to take some responsibility here. Because when you strip away our handheld technologies and the instant access to information to which we’ve become accustomed, we’re still simply human beings seeking to make sense of our transitory lives. We rush around like mall Santas with our heads cut off because we don’t truly believe that God is present in every moment. We act as if we can just stay ahead of the pack our deep insecurities and fears will never catch up to us. Of course that’s merely setting our lives up like a house of (Christmas) cards — it’s not sustainable in the long run.

One thing that’s also lost in all of this rushing ahead is the sense of sweet anticipation. We’re not so good at living into the practice of waiting. Like your average toddler we want what we want and we want it now! Our tantrums are less public than the one thrown on the floor of the the home goods department at Macy’s but the attitude is similar.

Think about the first time you were in love. The ache of parting and then waiting until the next time you were together made your time together that much sweeter. That’s what waiting does for the soul. It makes each moment more precious and allows us to enjoy time spent together without racing to clean up the dishes or put up the Christmas tree or box up the ornaments.

This year, I encourage you to live into the season of Advent — the four weeks that precede Christmas Day. Advent is the Church’s time of holy waiting and, yes, it is extremely counter-cultural. We don’t belt out Christmas carols at church until Christmas Eve; we don’t hang the greens and put out the poinsettias around the altar until much later in the season.

(Actually I no longer refer to decorating the church at Christmas as the “hanging of the greens.” I used to, until we had a family join the church named “Green.” So now we call it the “greening of the church” and the Greens don’t have to watch their backs this time of year).

Advent is a reminder that there’s a sacred rhythm that runs parallel to the secular timetable of the season. Go ahead and shop and hum Christmas carols and watch Frosty the Snowman with the kids but be mindful of season creep. And know that only when you allow that anticipation to build as you wait and watch and prepare to meet Jesus anew, is the deep joy of Christmas complete.

How to Market Advent Lessons & Carols

For many people it’s just not Advent until they attend a service of Lessons & Carols. This beloved liturgy has deep roots in the Anglican musical tradition and evokes images of vested choirs, coped clergy, Advent wreaths, and a December chill in the air.

The service itself is structured on a liturgy first offered at the Chapel of King’s College, Cambridge, England, in 1918. Almost immediately other churches adapted the service for their own use but its popularity really began to grow when the service was first broadcast in 1928. With the exception of 1930, Advent Lessons & Carols has been broadcast annually from King’s College, even during the Second World War.

Here at St. John’s, along with many other parishes, Advent L & C ranks as one of the liturgical highlights of the entire year. Now if you’re trying to draw people to your own sublimely beautiful and well-planned Advent Festival of Lessons & Carols, I have some tips. Truth be told my globe-trotting archnemesis also contributed to this list but he’s somewhere in Jerusalem at a coffee shop while I’m stuck here with visions of Christmas Eve bulletins dancing in my head so I’ll take all the credit.

How to Market Advent Lessons and Carols

1. We steadfastly refuse to admit any holiday festivity so kindly leave the Christmas sweater and reindeer brooch at home. The ushers will remove any Santa hats they spot with an air of righteous indignation.

2. You’ll get to sing/mumble your way through unfamiliar Advent hymns and listen to Advent carols no one recognizes.

3. Yes, there are scary prophetic readings but they’re always undercut with a tuneful anthem (that you won’t recognize) following each one.

4. Prior to the service be sure to Google ”why is there a pink candle in the advent wreath.”

5. Listen to Americans and Brits fight over the pronunciation of Isaiah (eye-ZAY-uh vs. eye-ZEYE-uh).

6. Fire hazards abound. Fortunately the liturgy is about as interesting as watching wax drip.

7. This is the one time during the year we let that crazy lady with the British accent read a lesson.

8. It’s fun to play spot the fake garland. It’s like Where’s Waldo only easier.

9. Keep waiting for someone to read Ezekiel’s passage about the Valley of  Dry Bones until you remember that happens at the Easter Vigil not Lessons and Carols.

10. Judge the abilities of the various lectors and hold a grudge against the rector for not utilizing your superior reading abilities.

11. Take bets during the car ride to church over whether the parish secretary remembered to change the date on the bulletin from last year.

12. No sermon. Though most clergy make up for this by adding in a non-rubrical “announcements” section in order to “preach” about their upcoming schedule of Christmas services.

13. The reception following the liturgy is stale crackers and cheap wine. It’s a meeting point between Lent (no refreshments) and Christmas (festive food).

14. Clergy who attend will come to blows arguing over whether or not the vestments and hangings are the “correct” Advent color.

15. Episcopalians who like to ignore Marian devotion can scowl through hymns about our Blessed Mother.

I guarantee that if you take out a full page ad in the local paper listing these reasons to attend your service of Lessons and Carols, you’ll need to hire some crowd control thugs off of Craig’s List.

In the meantime, I bid you blessings during this holy season of waiting and watching and preparing for the arrival of the Christ child. Scott Gunn may or may not do likewise at his second coming (back to America) when he returns to judge the liturgy.

Believe?

“Believe.” That’s Macy’s one-word advertising campaign this holiday season. You’ve likely seen it plastered on buses and screaming across the top of full page newspaper ads. I’ve found it jarring because it feels either like a subliminal Cold War-era message or an emasculation of the word itself.

Yes, I know that Macy’s has a whole charitable giving program based on the campaign that benefits the Make-a-Wish Foundation. And that’s a good thing even if it’s an add-on to deflect any potential criticism from, ahem, the blogging public.

The whole notion of what to believe is left intentionally ambiguous. This month, the choices are wide open: Santa, Christ, general hearth and home goodness, the Christmas-Industrial Complex, yourself, that your credit card debt will magically disappear. It’s a clever ad campaign meant to encourage good feelings and prime the economic pump.

But as a Christian who celebrates the coming of the Christ child  this month (yes, some of us still do) it grates. Maybe it’s because Christmas is not about belief in general but belief in particular.

The word itself derives from the Latin credo — from whence we derive the word creed. On Christmas Eve those who make it to church will recite the Nicene Creed, the primary Christian statement of faith. It begins “I believe in one God” or Credo in unum Deum in Latin. And we’ll go on to proclaim our belief in the Incarnation of Jesus by saying, “For us and our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate of the Virgin Mary, and was made man.”

That’s the belief that I’m focused on this time of year — the belief that ultimately defines Christmas itself.

So, thank you Macy’s for encouraging us to “believe.” But we’ll take it from here.

The O Antiphons — Decoded

First, let me be clear: they have nothing to do with Oprah. Nor are they related to other songs beginning with “O” like O Susanna, O Christmas Tree, O Little Town of Bethlehem, or O-bla-di-O-bla-da.

The “O Antiphons” are a traditional Advent devotion dating to as early as the 5th century. Benedictine monasteries provide some of the earliest evidence of their usage and by the 8th century they were commonly used in Roman churches. There are seven “O’s” (the name simply derives from the start of each antiphon — “O Sapienta, O Adonai, etc.). Thus the first is recited on December 17th and the last on December 23rd.

Each antiphon is based on a title used for Jesus in Scripture thus (and I realize I’ve used the word “thus” in consecutive sentences):

• December 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
  
• December 18: O Adonai (O Lord)
• December 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
• December 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David)
• December 21: O Oriens (O Dayspring)
• December 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)
• December 23: O Emmanuel (O God-With-Us)

If the English words sound familiar, you’re no doubt acquainted with the classic Advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” which is based on these antiphons.

In Anglican usage the O Antiphons are traditionally used before and after the Magnificat at Evening Prayer (sung at Evensong) or as the Alleluia verse before the gospel reading during the appointed days. For many, they are used as private devotions during the waning days of Advent.

Click here to access a full list of the O Antiphons (along with their Scriptural citations) in both Latin and English. This comes from the Liturgy blog of the wonderful New Zealander Bosco Peters. Enjoy.

Smoking Bishop: The Recipe

Illustration by Paul Bommer

Can you really offer Advent Lessons & Carols without serving Smoking Bishop at the wassail reception that follows? I presume it happens but not the past few years here at St. John’s. Smoking Bishop has become part of our L&C tradition, though if you’ve never heard of it a) you’re not alone and b) I encourage you to whip up a batch this year.

What exactly is Smoking Bishop? Well, it has nothing to do with your bishop sneaking a cigarette in the parish cemetery before the opening procession. Nor is it to be confused with a flaming bishop — that’s something else entirely. Smoking Bishop is basically a warm version of sangria. It’s a drink so named for its purple color (brought about by red wine and port) and the fact that it’s served warm.

The best-known literary reference comes from the last page of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol.” After Scrooge has his conversion experience, we read this conversation with his long-suffering employee Bob Cratchit:

“A Merry Christmas, Bob!” said Scrooge with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. “A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I’ll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon over a bowl of Smoking Bishop, Bob!”

My Advent gift to you is the recipe. I hope you’ll try it out and let me know what you think. Better yet, make some and drop it off at the rectory!

Smoking Bishop

5 unpeeled oranges
1 unpeeled grapefruit
36 cloves
1/4 pound of sugar
2 bottles of red wine
1 bottle of port

Wash the fruit and oven bake until brownish. Turn once. Put fruit into a warmed earthenware bowl with six cloves stuck into each. Add sugar and pour in wine — NOT the port. Cover and leave in a warm place for a day. Squeeze the fruit into the wine and strain. Add the port and heat. Do not boil! Serve “smoking” warm. Yield: 15 to 20 servings (serve in small wine glasses).

What’s Up with the Pink Candle?

On the Third Sunday in Advent, churches throughout Christendom will light a pink candle on the Advent Wreath. We don’t do this for aesthetics — we’re not trying to prep out by getting our Talbots on. Nor is it because the males among us need to demonstrate just how secure we are in our masculinity. No, that third candle is pink (or technically rose-colored) because it’s Gaudete Sunday. Huh?

Okay, let me back up and do some explaining here. First of all, we refer to the Third Sunday in Advent as Gaudete Sunday because the introit for the mass begins “Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete” meaning “Rejoice in the Lord always: again I say rejoice.” While much of the penitential nature of the season has been lost in favor of hopeful expectation, some of the readings still do sound this note. The Third Sunday has traditionally been a respite from the penitential themes of Advent emphasizing instead the joy of the coming of the Lord.

Thus many view the pink candle as emphasizing joy. As with most things liturgical, however, there is not consensus here. Some associate the candle with Mary and perhaps there’s confusion because “Mothering Sunday” — the Fourth Sunday in Lent — is the other occasion for rose-colored vestments. This is a slight misnomer, however, because Mothering Sunday refers not to Our Lady but to an old practice in England where the rich gave their servants the Sunday off to go home and visit their mothers. Indeed, Mary appears in the readings for the Fourth Sunday in Advent, not the third.

To go even further back, it’s worth looking at the history of Advent wreaths themselves. There is evidence that some pre-Christian Germanic people placed candles on wreaths in the middle of winter as a symbol of hope that the warm weather of spring would return. And ancient Scandinavians placed candles on wheels in “the bleak mid-winter” as an anticipatory devotion to the sun god. It wasn’t until the Middle Ages that Christians adopted the practice of the Advent wreath as a pre-Christmas devotion.

As I mentioned, some churches use rose-colored vestments twice a year — on the Fourth Sunday in Lent and the Third Sunday in Advent. Both days are seen as times of refreshment, feasting, and joy amid a penitential season. I know a priest who, back when he was a curate, always celebrated the Eucharist on these two days. It seems the parish owned a rose set and the rector declared he never, ever wanted to wear pink at the altar!

So there you have it — a brief explanation about the pink candle that will be lit this Sunday. May this season bring you the joy of Christ as we continue in hopeful anticipation.

Rescuing Christmas from the Mall

In my latest “In Good Faith” column I take on mall Santas and encourage people to forget about the true spirit of Christmas.

Rescuing Christmas from the Mall

I have nothing against mall Santas. Out of uniform, they’re some of the jolliest people I know. So why can’t I stand going to the mall at Christmastime? It may be the endless soundtrack of Christmas carols, the tinseled decorations on steroids, or the forced joy that pervades each level. Obviously the hyper-consumerism is a turn-off but I think ultimately it’s just the lack of anything having to do with faith: God is nowhere to be found. And “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” bumper stickers in the parking lot aren’t helpful.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I used to do all my Christmas shopping at the mall on Christmas Eve. This was before I started working on Christmas Eve and it was long before I had a wife and kids. Toss in those variables and I’d have about as much success shopping on Christmas Eve as Shaquille O’Neal getting hired as one of Santa’s elves.

The sad reality is that I loved shopping on Christmas Eve. There was a certain adrenaline-pumping desperation to the whole affair and the place was full of like-minded procrastinators. This fraternity (yes, it was mostly men) were men (did I mention it was mostly men?) on a mission. There’s nothing like a deadline to focus your gift-buying intentions. As the clock ticked toward closing time a new mind-set always emerged – a cloudy vision about what the people in my life truly craved. “I’m sure Mom has always wanted a gift pack of stale coffee from Gloria Jean’s” and “I know my brother will just love this two-in-one fountain pen/compass set from The Sharper Image. Isn’t he always finding himself lost in the woods and needing to take dictation?”

Even though I no longer shop on Christmas Eve, there is a better way to enjoy this season of preparation than to engage in mall-induced competitive shopping. Rather than bemoan the fact that the American Christmas experience has precious little to do with the Savior’s birth, I offer you several suggestions to undermine the mall Christmas virus. And I won’t even suggest that you get your shopping done throughout the year; unless you’re like my wife Bryna, it’s impossible.

• Forget About the “True Spirit of Christmas.” Despite the barrage of holiday catalogues, we’re not there yet. Focus instead on the “True Spirit of Advent,” the four-week period of spiritual preparation that precedes Christmas Day. If we acknowledge and recapture the meaning of Advent in the midst of our seasonal preparations, we leave room in our hearts and minds to prepare for the coming of Christ. Plus, if you forget about the true spirit of Christmas, you’ll have less guilt about participating in the competition for a parking spot. It’s a blood sport – cut off that old lady!

• Spend Time in Church. This sounds obvious and, coming from a parish priest, even self-serving. But spending time in pre-Christmas worship reminds us that holy waiting is an important discipline and it may be our only refuge from hearing Christmas carols (unlike the rest of society, we wait until it’s actually Christmas to start singing them). Embracing the season of Advent is the best antidote to the “Christmas-Industrial Complex” and you’ll really only be able to do this in church. Have you ever tried to find the Advent aisle at Wal-Mart?

• Let the Grinch Guide You Through the Season. This may sound odd, but reading the classic story by Dr. Seuss is a wonderful way to expose holiday consumerism and move toward the deeper meaning. In response to the Grinch’s rumination that “Maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store,” we can answer with a resounding, “Amen!”

I should admit to a recurring mall fantasy. I’d like to go to a large suburban mall and find the back room that contains the sound system. Then I’d take it over for an hour or two. I’d replace “Walking in a winter wonderland” with “Come thou long expected Jesus” and I’d substitute “Frosty the Snowman” with “O come, O come Emmanuel.” Then I’d just stroll around poking into The Gap and Starbucks to see people’s expressions. Maybe it wouldn’t affect anyone but maybe it would change the focus, if only for a moment. Maybe people would recognize the true gift of the season: God’s love for us in sending his only son to live and walk among us.

Here’s hoping that this December you will be overextended in praise and thanksgiving rather than credit card debt.

Advent Blend

In the waning days before the South Shore’s first decent coffee shop opens, I’ve been slumming it at Starbucks. This makes me cringe — both the coffee (they burn it!) and supporting the big box store of java. Fortunately the Redeye Roasters Cafe & Espresso Lounge will be opening this Saturday in walking distance from the church. We’ll finally have an independent coffee shop that both roasts on site and offers a panoramic view of Hingham Harbor. An early Christmas gift!

A few days ago I walked into the local Starbucks and the corporate mandated holiday transformation had just taken place: Christmas music was playing, gifts packs of coffee and holiday-themed mugs were on display, Gingerbread Lattes and Peppermint Mochas were flowing; and their Christmas Blend was brewing.

While listening to a jazzed up version of Jingle Bells I approached the counter and asked for a cup of the “Advent Blend.” Maybe it helped that I was wearing a collar but to his credit the barista didn’t bat an eye and handed over the coffee. I’m happy to order the Christmas Blend during the twelve days of Christmas – which start on Christmas Day — and I’m under no illusion that my small act of civil disobedience matters much. But as Christians, being faithful to the seasons of the Church Year is a spiritual act.

During Advent we can wait; we must wait. Despite the Christmas-Industrial Complex that swirls around us, we’re invited into a period of holy waiting and anticipation. Let the walls of your church this season become a refuge from the madness that surrounds us; a sanctuary from the shopping frenzy and the expectations of others and the guilt and the to-do list driven preparations. As the lights on the Advent wreath build over the next four weeks so does our impending joy. This is a time not of instant gratification but one of sacred loitering, pregnant with possibility and hope.

Yes, we know what the immediate future holds – we’ll soon celebrate the birth of our Savior. But thanks be to God for this counter-cultural gift of waiting and anticipation. Advent blessings to you all.