O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

There is something very different about this season of the year. My wife and I have chosen to celebrate Advent, the coming of the Christ child in our home by reading scripture, praying, and pouring over  meditations that friends or acquaintances from Abilene Christian University have written. Our church tradition has NEVER celebrated Advent, with the exception of the church we attended in Abilene back in the day. And, I find that very odd. 

Something is different this year. I feel a stirring within me. 

I ponder the differences between this year and last year or the year before or the year before that. I suspect that there are several things that make for a difference this year. For the first time, obinutuzumab is coursing through my veins. I get it every week or two weeks, sitting in an infusion room for four or five hours as the drip, drip, drip, drip makes its way down the bag, via the tube, into my IV, and into my body. It leaves me very exhausted. One nurse said that it is cumulative. I believe her. It has a mind of its own. Some days the effects are minimal and others I barely drag around. 

Then, in about two or three weeks from now, I'll begin taking a pill form of immunotherapy, a pill called ventaxlata, and I hear it will be rougher than the IV drug. We'll see. 

My wife and I are cautious as to where we go and when we go and whether we wear masks or not. I've learned that the only two people who are concerned about my body and its low level of immunity are she and I. I do not go to large gatherings, especially gatherings where I suspect that the setting is a petri dish for COVID or RSV or the flu.

Why do I say all of this? Is it an introduction to a larger story? 

The short verse is that I was stirred by a podcast from Ecclesia Houston, a message delivered by Sean Palmer, a teaching pastor there, a minister who was at ACU as a student back in the day when Charla and I were there. We know some of the same people and know some of the same stories. 

His message which is linked below, is about magi coming to worship the Christ child. Against all odds, they found the child, bowed down and worshipped and left the child with gold, frankencense, and myrrh, not exactly gifts you'd think to leave a child, or to his father or mother. How about sanitary wipes, diapers, formula, baby clothes, or even a toy that rattles. 

They knew to head in the opposite direction from Herod who may have come across as a benevolent King, but they knew better.

Frankly, that is where I am this year. In my weakened state, I can only give what I can give to the Christ child. I can only do what I can do. No more no less. One of the gifts I oftentimes bring is the gift of words in prose or poetry form, but this year, more often than not, those words do not coming. 

The cancer in my blood, small cell lymphacytic lymphoma, and the medications to treat it, have consumed more often than not my words, emotions, dreams, and wishes. 

During this season, I want to offer to the newborn King words of hope on behalf of a marginalized people. If you follow the words on this page, you know who they are. They are Black farmers, women and men whose DNA is in the soil, whose blood is in the soil, who want nothing more than to work the land and to pass the land on to their children and grandchildren. Yet, in the way of their aspirations stands the monolythic agency with its myriad of sub-agencies, the United States Department of Agriculture. It is rife with all forms of malfeasance and corruption. Those who want to do good are often kicked to the curb by those who value sameness over change. Search out the names Stucki and Rosenberg and you'll read what I'm talking about and have heard since 1994. 

I'd like to offer them more during this Advent season. On some days, maybe the words and ideas and directions will come. On other days, words, ideas, and directions will not come. 

So, all that I have to offer the Christ child in this Advent season is some measley leftovers. Leftovers from fatigue, IV drip, insomnia, and SLL. 

Come, o come Emmanuel. Come into our world. Redeem our world. Save us from ourselves. 

Here is Pastor Sean Palmer's message for Advent, week one. 

https://ecclesiahouston.org/liturgy/2023/11/27/searching-for-jesus-advent-week-one.

Living in Between: During These Days of Advent, Lord, Lead Us

On this special day of the Advent season, I am pondering “living in between.” We are living within several “in betweens.” We live in between creation and the ultimate redemption. We are living in between now and the coming of the Christ child. We are living in between normalcy and the return to normalcy, if there is to be such a thing. We are living in between what we recall about the politics of our land from years gone by, yearning for a return to civility amongst us all.

Some of God’s children live with a strong eye toward the end times. Some even say that the madness of the world includes multiple signs that we are living in the end times. If we read the book of 2 Peter, then perhaps we can realize that we have always lived in the end times. The living part just gets stretched out.

If indeed we are living in between, especially in between now and the coming of the Christ child, how would the Holy One of Israel have us live? Live and do what? Live and think what? Live and reflect upon what? Live and dream of what?

Living in between for me means making some noise about mistreatment of Black farmers across our land. Toward that end, we write, make calls, and advocate in a wide range of ways. Advocacy toward congressionals is one. For instance, two bills are making their way through the Senate and the House. The Justice for Black Farmers Act of 2023 has once again been submitted by Senators Cory Booker and Raphael Warnock. Some people hold these men in derision, but tor me and my house, we honor and respect them because they have their hearts in the right place. That place is recovery of the Black farmer from decades after decades of discrimination, heart break, and land loss. Another bill has been written that will provide accountability with the confines of the sacred halls of the USDA. Representative Jackson from Illinois understands the challenges of farming while Black in America against all odds. That bill entitled, "Just USDA Standards and Transparency Act of 2023" holds much promise. 

So, this morning in the spirit of Advent, and in the reality of living in between now and when the Christ child is born, and in that in between space of when the Bill will be signed into law, I offer this prayer. For those of us who do pray, please feel free to join me. 

Lord, lead me to see people who will vote for or against these bills, those who are concerned about history of discrimination and those for whom it is a non-entity.

Lord, lead us to understand the depth of the pain of those families who struggled and lost their farms, and those who are living in fear that even now, they just might lose their farms.

Lord, lead me to a greater sensitivity of what it means to be Black in America.

Lord, lead us to a great sensitivity of what it means to be a Black farmer in America.

Lord, lead me to see the log in my own eye before I point out the speck of racism in the eye of another.

Lord, lead us to be instruments of peace in a polarized world and to reach across whatever isles are created.

Lord, lead me to see the humanity and goodness in people with whom I have many philosophical and theological differences.

Lord, lead us to speak with courage in these perilous days, and to back up that speech with action.

Lord, bring forth hope upon our land that we may live and celebrate as a united people.

Lord, bring forth honesty and faith and resilience to all people so that we can live in harmony with one another.

Lord, prompt all of us to see the coming of the Christ child as a pivotal moment to grab hold of hope.

Lord, prompt the season of the year to bring about all manner of acts of kindness and generosity upon all of us.

Lord, prompt us to respect all of your children, every color, dark or light, because we are all precious in your sight.

Light in the Darkness

The work that I do as an adviser to the USDA Coalition for Minority Employees, Justice for Black Farmer Group, developing the documentary along with Shoun Hill, and engaging in other ways within the Black Farmer Movement are so central to who I am as a human being that it is difficult to tease them out. My desire is to be a good ally in this work. 

Richard Rohr says that there are six types of liberation: inner, cultural, dogmatic, personal, spiritual, and liberation for "infinite mystery." His note on personal liberation from the "system" rings true, though he and I may see things differently. 

Then, at this time of the year, the season of Advent, we are focusing on light, the light that shines in darkness, the light of the world, the light that came into the world, the light which was the Christ child, and how our world did not understand it, and still has not yet responded to it, yet it is still there for our engagement. Yes, Jesus entered the world, and light shone all around Him, and the light shines on and in us to let us know where we can be cleansed, purified, and made righteous and justice oriented. 

How do these connect is the question of the morning. It is dark here in the neighborhood as I glance out the window. My desk lamp over to my right illuminates this room. Down on the street on the right, the neighbor's Christmas lights have shone all night and they dispel a bit of the darkness. In front of our house, we have a laser light that shines images that move at rapid speed on the outside of our house. Inside, we have various things that attract the grandchildren, the Christmas tree, the little stations that have lights inside them, the music box that they all love and claim for their own, and other displays that capture their imagination. 

The world of injustice in a dark world. Various offices that symbolize institutions of power and privilege overshadow the lives and efforts of Black farmers. The politics of the day is dark and foreboding as we anticipate the transition from one administration to another, and yet within the new administration that we are relatively optimistic about there is darkness. One of his nominees led an agency full of darkness that wounded people, overshadowed people, took the land away from people, left people bereft of their livelihood and identities, protected the brutality of the powerful against women employees. We could go on and on about the darkness. 

For me, there is great symbolism in the moment and the MOMENT of the Black Farmer Movement. I think it is no accident that we are advocating AGAINST a nominee at this particular time of the year. Sure, it is a part of the election and transition cycle of things. I am struck, however, by Advent. Advent shapes the protests in a different direction. We are not just working AGAINST a nominee. We are working FOR people who work for and are recipients of services and programs within that department. 

Not only do I need liberation from various thing like Rohr suggested, including myself, but there are many good people who deserve to be liberated from that which has held them enslaved since 1862. Lincoln's "the peoples' department" has become "the last plantation." The plantation is run predominately by white people appointed or hired by a white government with programs and services designed for white people. 

If indeed Jesus came to liberate us from our darkness, and to bring the true light into the world, then that is the cause of righteousness, the cause of advocacy, the cause of protest, the cause of demanding change at the highest levels of the land. 

So, I do not separate my faith as a human being from my work and engagement as an advocate. As I invite the Christ child into my world here in a week, I invite, no, I demand that institutions of power and privilege change and permit the light to shine in the darkness of their halls and smoke-filled, back room deliberations that marginalize generation after generation after generation of Black farmers and their families. 

That intersection of the light of the gospel and the darkness of institutions is the world in which I reside. It is oftentimes an uncomfortable place and space. At other times, it is one of immense joy and satisfaction. 

I invite both. To do otherwise would be less than human. 

What About Joseph?

On this Wednesday morning of the season of Advent, I am pondering the story of Joseph, Jesus' father. We know very little about him. He was there for a while and then he was gone. 

Mary was there at the beginning, the middle, and the end of Jesus' earthly life. She is honored among all women, and rightfully so, but what about Joseph? 

Perhaps out of our own fatherhood narratives, we can surmise some things about Joseph. No doubt he was a man of faith. In the Jewish tradition of things, he and his Beloved were engaged to be married. Was it arranged? Did they choose each other? Did they have eyes for each other and request of their parents to arrange the marriage? 

We know that they were "engaged," or "betrothed," to use a Bible word. 

We suspect that he was older than Mary, and we for the most part think that Mary was a teenager. 

We know that out of the blue, Mary gets a visitation from Gabriel who tells her extraordinary news. How then does Mary communicate this extraordinary news to the man to whom she is engaged? 

As a righteous man who did not want to embarrass her, he decided to divorce her quietly when he found out that she was pregnant, but then an angel appeared to him and told him some extraordinary things as well: stay with her, the pregnancy is from the Holy Spirit, name him Jesus, and he'll save his people. And he did not have sexual intercourse with her until after the baby was born. 

And so he honored Mary and the words from the angel. 

He shows up at the Temple when Jesus is eight days old, according to tradition. Then, when Jesus is 12 years old, they both appear again the gospel narrative going to and from Jerusalem when Jesus decides to hang out with the teachers of the law. Later, Jesus is noted as "Mary's son," or "the carpenter's son." 

And then Joseph disappears. Where did he go? Did he die early? Did he pass on to glory after he and Mary birthed several more children? 

We can ponder the influence that Joseph had on Jesus as an infant, a child, a teenager, and then as a young adult male in the Jewish tradition of things. 

Maybe he led by example as to how to be a man, a father, a husband, a productive citizen. 

Maybe there were times in their carpentry business when he showed Jesus how to build, cut, saw, splice, and set prices for his labor. 

Maybe he showed Jesus how to be an honorable husband and father. Maybe he showed Jesus how to be an honorable business person. 

Surely he brought stability into their home. Stability that a man of faith brings into a home with a wife who is a mother of several, and as a father to several children. 

Did he, as did Mary, ponder things and store them up in her heart? Was he prone to making sense out of things, or was he a man who simply went about his business doing what needed to be done without the effort that contemplation brings? 

If the gospel narrative is a stage play, Joseph plays a supporting role. Mary and Jesus are lead actors. Joseph gets a key role for a short duration, and then with no explanation he is gone, though through the words of others we know that he and Mary had other children. 

I wonder sometimes if he understood that Mary would be much more central to the story of Jesus than he would, and if that was ok with him.

I think his influence on Jesus continued all the days of Jesus' life. I think he was a good man, a faithful husband, an attentive father. I think his faithfulness to Jehovah was displayed in the biblical text as he heard the words of the angel of the Lord and then went about doing them.

Without getting much credit, he simply did his job. 

Perhaps that is the ultimate that can be said of any of us, "he simply did his job." 

That will be enough. 

At Just the Right Time into Our Messiness He Comes

Any number of descriptions could easily fit our world. The place we inhabit is messy. Read any newspaper, listen to any news broadcast, skim through any Facebook page, and there you'll have it. We are a mess. Our world is littered with people impacted by poverty, racism, brutality, utter disregard for whoever is not in the favored group, antisemitism, anti-lgbtq sentiments, anti-women disrespect, and so many others, too many to list. 

And, yet, it is into this world that we invite the Christ child to come. We yearn for His appearing. We long for the story to be told and retold. We eagerly await the story through the eyes of our children and grandchildren. We yearn with hopefulness for our own engagement with the story from Bethlehem, the angels, the shepherds, the wise men, and the hope that His birth brings. We are touched by the music of the season. 

Yet, our world still groans in its incompleteness. We have not yet become what we are intended to be. Our brokenness displays that groaning. What is not unbroken these days: individuals, families, churches, our understandings of ourselves. And yet, it was into a somewhat similar world that Jesus appeared. While the sacred text says that "in the fulness of time," or "at just the right time," or at a time of "pax romana," Jesus came. That world into which He appeared had its conflicts: Jews versus Samaritans, Jews versus Romans, Romans versus whatever other countries, rich versus the poor, even intra-theological groups within the Jewish population with their conflicts. Yet He came. As a child. In an unpretentious way. He lived for a while amongst us. We, His own people, did not recognize Him. Thankfully some of us did. 

There is comfort in His coming. We long for peace. We long for wholeness. We long for struggle and strife to cease. 

And there are those moments in which we stop, breathe, surrender, and out of that comes the wonder of the new creation. The beauty of the Christ child. The peace that only He can bring. That understanding the God came to us. God came to us in all of our brokenness. God did not come to us because we had our houses in order. No, God came to us even when our houses were in disarray.  We are incomplete. 

Still, God comes to us even as our houses are in disarray. Such is the way we live. Such is the way society unfolds. And, still God comes to us. 

Our world's state of disarray, chaos, confusion, suffering, pain, distress, and all clearly display that the world groans for His appearing. Some day He will appear ultimately and we'll experience the new heaven and new earth. 

Until then, we anticipate His coming in the Christ child, and that eases our pain and suffering, even if just momentarily. Within His coming is hope. Grace. Mercy. Love. 

And we act accordingly. We offer hope, grace, mercy, love, a helping hand to the marginalized, the lonely, the left out, the kicked to the curb, those with whom we disagree theologically or politically, not because we within ourselves have the power to do so, but because it was into our brokenness and chaos that the Christ child came once, and then again, and then again, and He comes yet again. 

Therein lies hope for the world and for all of us who live in it. 

"Holy One of Israel, as we await the coming of the Christ child at this holy season, lead us out of our chaos, confusion, and mistreatment of our sisters and brothers. Lead us and guide us toward respect for all humanity for even as we differ, we are much the same. Come into our disordered world, lives, spaces and places. May your Kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. We eagerly away once more the coming of the Christ child who will ease our suffering and sooth our prejudices and grace our lives so that we can offer grace to others. Amen." 

I Hear He is Coming

I hear He is coming

The preacher told us so

He read from a big book

That was written long ago.

There was a prophet

A man who listened closely to God

He spoke to the rich and the poor

He cared a lot about those downtrod.

There was hopeless in the land

They had all lost their way

They were looking left and right

Trying to see a better day.

The prophet said he is coming

I just won’t tell you when

You better get prepared

You’ll face all of your sins.

The world we live sounds familiar

We stink up this big old joint

We have all chosen our paths

And toward hell much of us do point.

This world like that one

Bad stuff and other’s pain was craving

If it doesn’t come soon

I don’t know if it’ll be worth saving.

He’ll be born of a virgin

Something no one has done

He’ll bring us back to glory

He’ll be God’s only Son.

He’ll bring us to our knees

And we’ll worship at the throne

He’ll have a heart of justice

For those left undone.

Today is sit and I ponder

I’d like for him to come

And reign amongst my people

And to fix the world undone.

This thing is what we called it

Advent is a descriptive term

Jesus is coming as a baby

We have so very much to learn.

Mary and Joseph his parents

The donkey their traveling mode

He walked and carried them along

Not knowing of his precious load.

That sweet sweet day He was born

The world never to be the same

We all bow down to the Christ child

We worship His holy name.

The prophet was named Isaiah

The truth he told quite clear

The child’s name was to be Immanuel

His birth is drawing near.