children and Bach

I am grateful for the ways that Jesus continues to be present to me.  This morning while walking to the subway station, a young girl, proudly pulling her backpack and walking behind her older brother (I assume), looked up at me and gave me most sincere and joyous smile that I have ever seen.  I saw contentment and freedom written across her face.   Throughout the day, she has been something of an icon.  I picture that smile again in my mind and I can’t help but smile myself!  What a gift!

And at church this week I’ve been enjoying rehearsals of the Clarion Music Society, an fine early music group that is using our Sanctuary to prepare excerpts from Bach’s Christmas Oratorio for a performance next Wednesday.  Today I happened to walk in while they were rehearsing the alto aria, “Schlafe, mein Liebster.”  Something about the music in that time and space spoke deeply to my soul.  I felt loved, held with great tenderness.  And as I left to run some errands afterward, the piece continued to work within me – a gentle reminder that I am indeed held in God’s loving arms, even as Jesus was held with great love and tenderness by his mother.  Here’s a clip from Youtube – not the same as a live performance but a way to enjoy the beautiful music. (I found the video distracting, so I encourage you to close your eyes and enjoy!)

Schlafe, mein Liebster, genieße der Ruh,
Wache nach diesem vor aller Gedeihen!
Labe die Brust,
Empfinde die Lust,
Wo wir unser Herz erfreuen!

Sleep now, my dearest, enjoy now thy rest,
Wake on the morrow to flourish in splendor!
Lighten thy breast,
With joy be thou blest,
Where we hold our heart’s great pleasure!

looking and listening for Jesus

Recently, I have had the feeling that I am walking though life habitually; my eyes do not always see the people and things around me.  Even in this new, wonderful city where there is so much to look at, I am often moving at such a fast pace that I stop observing details.  I am looking ahead of myself to the next destination, trying to find a way around all the people, rather than in the present moment.  Or I avert my eyes from the things that are difficult to look at or that trouble me.

And my ears, even musician’s ears that are supposed to be tuned to sound, are not always receptive to things of beauty and simplicity.  I’m aware of the sirens and car alarms but what about the sounds that are so soft or fragile that you can only hear them if you take the time to stop and listen.  I feel as if my eyes and ears are in need of a recalibration; the range of my seeing and hearing needs to be expanded.  I cannot live on the surface.  I am called to look and listen for what is true, what is beautiful, and what is of lasting and enduring value.

So, this morning while walking to the subway station in the sleet, I prayed that God would help to open my eyes and unstop my ears.  I asked that I would see the places where Jesus is appearing in my world – breaking through the habits and fast-paced routine, through my cynicism and jadedness, through the common and ordinary parts of life.  I am going to try to cultivate a spirit of openness and awareness; not exactly sure how to do this but perhaps prayer is the start.  And I’ll try to share these insights in some regular way on the blog.  I feel as if I need a spiritual discipline for the season and this might be a format in which to share what am seeing and hearing.

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It’s now about 2 hours after worship has ended and I’m a bit tired from holding things together this morning.  Bad weather, a small choir due to holiday travel and sickness (though they sang well), and just have had this wonky, strange feeling accompanied by a mild headache.  But sitting in my office, I hear our custodian from Guyana whistling Christmas carols in leisurely, slightly out-of-tune style down the hall.  I find myself smiling and chuckling to myself as he transitions from Jingle Bells to Long Time Ago in Bethlehem to The Twelve Days of Christmas.

I think he’s my Advent moment today.  In his whistling I hear Jesus inviting me into the sort of relaxation and ease that I really need a dose of right now:  “Come, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.  Sing what comes to mind; it doesn’t have to be profound and it doesn’t have to be perfect.   Whistle what makes your heart glad.  Linger over the notes and phrases that you love and just be in the moment…at rest, at peace.”

Jesus, you whistle a simple tune
that catches my ear,
that lifts my spirits,
and invites to me to celebrate Advent anew.
May I hear and respond with gratitude,
knowing that you walk with me this season
and through all of my days.

the eyes have it

I have been really touched by the sermons that my pastor at Trinity has given over the past few weeks. He has been preaching on the Gospel passages from the Lectionary, most of which have been from John. Instead of offering a heavy dose of Christology, he has presented rather impressionistic reflections that have drawn me into the story and into an deeper appreciation of Jesus’ life and ministry. I highly recommend the series, which can be found on the church’s website.

Last Sunday’s passage recounted Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well. While Dr. Dan was preaching, I realized that I have always missed an important detail in the narrative – that Jesus meets her in middle of the day. He pointed out that women typically went to get water at earlier or cooler times. But this woman, who had been ostracized by her community, went when the chance of bumping into others would be slim. I can imagine that she had been wounded by the disapproving glances of her neighbors, the gossip behind her back or the outright discrimination that she experienced because of her mistakes and impropriety. She was no stranger to shame and rejection. Jesus must have known that there was something strange about her coming to the well at this time of day; it gave away the fact that she was on the fringe of the community.

But despite all of this, she found something compelling, gentle and healing in Jesus’ gaze. The barriers were broken down. He diffused her shame. First his loving eyes and then his words let her know that she was one of God’s beloved. They helped her to begin a journey of reclaiming her self-esteem and dignity – an understanding that, despite what her family, neighbors or religious community might say, her mistakes, weaknesses and sins did not separate her from God’s love. And Dr. Dan pointed out that this awakening must have been evident in her eyes after this encounter, because when she went back to the town to tell them about Jesus people actually took her seriously and came to check him out. She must have shown a vulnerability, a freedom or a renewed sense of dignity that indicated an encounter with someone or something quite amazing.

As I think about what the Samaritan woman saw in Jesus’ eyes, I am reminded of some powerful words by James Alison:

“It seems to me that the doctrine of the incarnation of our Lord, the image of God coming among us as like likeness of humans, is a strong statement that the divine regard is one of liking us, here and now, as we are. Glad to be with us. And this means that one one who looks at us with love is not just looking at us with a penetrating and inscrutable gaze of utter otherness, but is looking at us with the delight of one who enjoys our company, who wants to be one with us, to share in something with us.

Our faith is that the eyes of God that are in Christ, and thus the divine regard through which we can receive new being, are eyes that like us, from alongside, at the same level as us. Which means they do not control us, do not try to “know better than us” who we are, but want to participate in a discovery with us of who we are to become.” (On Being Liked, pg. 107-08)

I would like to believe that the Samaritan saw eyes of genuine love and, even more, the eyes of someone who simply delighted to be with her. Rather than judgement and disdain, she saw the eyes of someone who wanted her to become a free and happy person, with a sense of purpose and dignity. And the miracle is that the eyes of this newly-freed, deeply-liked woman brought freedom and hope to others. I’m reminded of another quote, this one attributed to Nelson Mandela:

“We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. Its not just in some of us, it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I’m sure there is so much more to this passage but today I am touched by the loving and liberating presence of Jesus, by his eyes of acceptance. And I believe more passionately that one of the greatest gifts that I can can share with the world are eyes that radiate the acceptance and freedom that I have found in him.