‘Tis the season for Christmas quizzes. Think you know pretty much all there is to know about the season? Try this one. Where does the comma go in the Christmas carol, “God rest ye merry gentlemen?”
Here’s another one, although it’s not about the Christmas season, at least not directly. Where does the comma go in this portion of the Lord’s Prayer: thy kingdom come thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven?
If you answered, there is no comma, then you are obviously a student of Greek and you should be writing your own blog rather than reading mine ;).
Last Sunday I was in Austin on holiday, and I visited two churches and heard two of my favorite pastors preach. Both bulletins had printed versions of the Lord’s Prayer. Here’s how the commas went down as best I can recall: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
And the point is? Several years ago, I attended The Academy for Spiritual Formation, a wonderful two year program put on by the Upper Room. One of our leaders urged us not to separate “thy will be done” from “on earth.” “Say them together without the pause,” he insisted. His point? This part of the prayer is not simply about God’s will happening in a vague general sort of way or somehow without our participation like we’re bemused bystanders. We’re praying for God’s will to happen here on earth. It’s a call to action and participation.
“Thy kingdom come, they will be done on earth as it is in heaven” is not wishful thinking, but a commitment to working toward that kingdom now, here on earth, even among the earthy. God calls forth visions of truth and beauty in places and among people who seem least able to pull it off. And mirabile dictu, kingdom happens, and the impossible becomes possible and love divine is born again right down the street.
(Oh, and the carol? It’s “God rest ye merry, gentlemen.” So it’s not about merry gentlemen, but about God giving (resting) merriment. This Christmas, may God rest you merry, gentlefolk!)
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Altars in the World
Last week I had a great lunch and discussion at Seton Cove, a local center for spirituality and renewal. If you haven’t discovered it yet—and it’s not easy to find (and if you go, you need to go early to find a parking space)—check out some of the goings-on at setoncove.net.
The program focused on a question from Barbara Brown Taylor’s recent book, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. Taylor, an Episcopal priest and seminary/college professor, is quite possibly the best Christian writer in the business today. Her theological instincts are impeccable and her style is so elegant and wise.
Some years back, Taylor was asked to speak at a church in Alabama. The topic was intriguing: come tell us what is saving your life now. Each chapter in the book is a tentative answer to that question. Taylor’s quest takes her beyond the usual spiritual practices into a world filled with altars and worshippers.
“I do not have to choose between the Sermon on the Mount and the magnolia trees. God can come to me by a still pool on the big island of Hawaii as well as at the altar of the Washington Cathedral. The House of God stretches from one corner of the universe to the other. Sea monsters and ostriches live in it, along with people who pray in languages I do not speak, whose names I will never know.”
Taylor’s reflections took me back to an altar that sustained me through my turbulent teenaged years. Our family summer cottage on Lake Simcoe. I’m not sure I saw it so at the time, but now as I look back, remembering days lost in wonder and play, I’m seeing a ladder and all of the divine traffic moving up and down.
Beyond church and church camps, where have you found an altar in the world? What is saving your life now?
The program focused on a question from Barbara Brown Taylor’s recent book, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. Taylor, an Episcopal priest and seminary/college professor, is quite possibly the best Christian writer in the business today. Her theological instincts are impeccable and her style is so elegant and wise.
Some years back, Taylor was asked to speak at a church in Alabama. The topic was intriguing: come tell us what is saving your life now. Each chapter in the book is a tentative answer to that question. Taylor’s quest takes her beyond the usual spiritual practices into a world filled with altars and worshippers.
“I do not have to choose between the Sermon on the Mount and the magnolia trees. God can come to me by a still pool on the big island of Hawaii as well as at the altar of the Washington Cathedral. The House of God stretches from one corner of the universe to the other. Sea monsters and ostriches live in it, along with people who pray in languages I do not speak, whose names I will never know.”
Taylor’s reflections took me back to an altar that sustained me through my turbulent teenaged years. Our family summer cottage on Lake Simcoe. I’m not sure I saw it so at the time, but now as I look back, remembering days lost in wonder and play, I’m seeing a ladder and all of the divine traffic moving up and down.
Beyond church and church camps, where have you found an altar in the world? What is saving your life now?
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