CHRISTMAS. Who Are We? Lyn G. Brakeman, Spiritual Lemons, blog post, 12.25.22

There are too many wonderful images from many traditions of faith for this Holy Days season. I am sharing some of my own—ones that have personal, and perhaps universal, meaning. They are not literal representations as photographs of God or Christ, or Buddha, or any saint, or Mary Virgin, but they all do sparkle with Joy and Love and Wonder— icons that reflect the Holy. 

Here is a young boy who has discovered the sheer exhilaration of summer sand and sun in Cancun—in the midst of the bleak mid-winter.  

Here are two female pugs, Jaelee and Olive, all duded up in their pink finery ready for something special. They know something’s up, because there is a large egregious tree in their house decorated, including one of their familiar piddle pads around its base. They won’t lift a small leg to pee on this special tree. 

Here is a creation of grandeur. A great and grand Sycamore with a man dwarfed at the base of its massive trunk. 

Here is a traditionally comedic scene that takes place in many Christian parishes all over the world. This one shows some children doing a nativity play, “He Comes From The Glory” at their primary school in England. One little angel could be ruining it with her shouting her lines, or she could be making it real.  (I remember a pageant in which the child who was to be Joseph looked out, noticed there was a whole congregation and fled the scene as fast as he could run! Mary of course stayed calm to tend the wee newborn.)  

 Here is a highly symbolic, traditional and new, seasonal scenario: Creche scene full of oddballs. 

This scene was created from scraps and bits gathered from around the house, costing not a cent. Oddly of one mind all at once, this motley crew of onlookers have assembled from near and far to pay attention to something new in their midst. 

A single scraggly poor shepherd on solo duty for five sheep made of hardened clay and clothed against inclement weather with mink cut from the late, haughty and unpopular Auntie’s stole. 

A crib made of discarded matchsticks

A cloth Mama Mary already smitten with this kid who looks female to me, Papa Joseph in green burlap and looking masterfully terrified, feathery angels, singing from songbooks resting on Q-tipped arms. And a baby with a head of long dark hair, a silly grin, no halo. Hovering latecomers x 3, just in from the East offering expensive gifts, and risking what could be a very UNwise investment without consulting their brokers. This kid’ll make good for sure.   

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All we have to do is love one another—no matter who or when or why.  Do you have any idea how hard love is? It is the hardest thing in the world to grasp, feel, follow, embody, sustain and repeat. It is also exquisitely delicate, and ultimately valuable. MERRY, TOO.    

ADVENT. Who Am I? Lyn G. Brakeman, Spiritual Lemons, blog post, 12/18/22

 All it takes is one—some ONE—to start a social/religious/political/cultural transformation, to break long-held patterns of behavior, our “ways” we say. 

In treacherous times when change is so needed, we all ask: Are YOU the ONE?

Perhaps a better question is:  AM I THE ONE?

*  *  *  *

As the oldest child, born (1938) from a mother who believed herself a failure because of three failed conceptions, I grew up much too praised and too adored, also with an insatiable need to overachieve and a praise addict, imagining: I am what I achieve.  

It worked for a while. School was my obvious haven, and even Sunday School where I learned that God Himself was the greatest achiever of all time, and I, by proxy became the greatest memorizer/reciter of putative divine qualities—all beginning with omni-.  I mean imagine creating all the whole world and everything in it from atop a cloud. (I’d seen this image in a favorite book, The Little Book About God by Lauren Ford, 1934) That would be the omni-est of omni feats ever—utterly omni-competent. 

My own omni-competence, however, failed miserably in two very important areas in my life so far: motherhood and priesthood. Why? Because neither of these was an achievement. Why? Because I was not in control. I could not make either happen by being competent, equipped, qualified, even desirous. For biological motherhood, I had to offer my body—unconditionally. For ordination as a priest, I had to offer my soul—unconditionally. For both, I had to risk giving myself deeply, and loving myself completely—finite, imperfect, and yes, needy. 

Yes, I did give birth to four healthy children whom I loved without condition, and in the heaving power of my own uterus I knew God. At being the traditional omni-mother-at-home, I failed. I chose to pursue my own needs and gifts; my children felt abandoned; I could not achieve the forgiveness I desired and needed. I could only ask for it and wait. 

And yes, I did, after much struggle and rejection, get ordained a priest in the Episcopal church, and in the powerful force of my own persuasive self-advocacy I knew God. At fulfilling the expected traditional role of parish priest, I failed. I chose to pursue a vocation in pastoral counseling, chaplaincy, writing, lobbying to remove gender from God’s name, and serving as non-stipendiary Sunday Priest Associate in parishes. I could not achieve the forgiveness I thought I needed. I could only wait, be a good writer, counselor, and chaplain, never call God HE, and see what God would make of it all.     

Jesus failed spectacularly at his mission to renew the reign of God. He even cried out to God from the cross: Why have you forsaken me? (Psalm 22) Still, many called Jesus Messiah/Christos, and the renewal of the everlasting covenant between Creator and Creation took new root and growth in Christianity. Jesus could not achieve the fullness of his vision. Did he desire or need God’s forgiveness? I don’t know, but Jesus is remembered as asking God to forgive the enemies who jeered and crucified him. 

Perhaps it’s our own expectations, or society’s for us, that we fail? Of God’s expectations we know not the ongoing details. We live in hope and trust. 

We still fail, and we still pray, and we still wait and call out: Are YOU the One? 

All I know is that I am not the ONE.  I am one of the Ones.  

ADVENT. Who Is She? Lyn G. Brakeman, Spiritual Lemons, blog post, 12/11/22

 All it takes is one—some ONE—to start a social/religious/political/cultural transformation, to break long-held patterns of behavior, our “ways” we say. 

This happens when all their stories are told—and retold.  

Of particular interest to me are the stories of biblical women who—ONE by ONE—  mightily influenced the course of Creation. 

Consider Eve, the woman who, drawn by natural curiosity, reached for the forbidden fruit in Eden and started what? She was the first women’s libber/ribber/fibber. Adam of course followed eagerly, looking innocent.  

The late American writer, Joan Didion, once wrote: “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” It is the stories in the Holy Bible that keep us alive and fascinated with the Mystery of this Divinity of many names—too many for any one religion to own. 

Laurie Metcalf, a movie actor, commented recently about how important the work of a good director, in this case Greta Gerwig, was in helping actors see and understand fully the character they were playing and the story surrounding that character—not just acting out a role. “That clicked with me in a way that was rare. That made it so real to me. It was the first time I was playing a fictional character where I actually was able to think of it as a real woman.” (N.Y Times, Sunday Styles, 12/4/22)   

Would the same not apply to biblical characters whose stories are not fiction, nor biography, but exemplary stories, told to highlight moral and spiritual meaning. Are they true? Yes. Are they literal fact? No. Are they stunningly beautiful even if painful? Yes. They are Schadenfreude—German word built on a combination of shaden (harm or damage) + freud (joy). It is usually understood to mean joy/rejoicing at someone’s else’s misfortune, like secretly gloating at your win or another’s loss as if you deserved all that praise. But what if the power of the joy of ONE could overwhelm the harm altogether? 

I recall a favorite New Testament exam or class question: Who founded Christianity, Jesus, Paul, or John the Baptist?  

What about Mary? 

There was no right or wrong answer to this question, of course. In a God-school exam one had to become an attorney for the defense, or the defensive. I voted for Jesus, thinking that was the obvious right answer for a Christian. But resentment coiled painfully around my gut: Didn’t there have to be a beginning to the beginning? Women, after all, naturally bleed for life— not for war. I filled with bloody joy when I suddenly realized in the deep dark depths of my own body and blood that a woman had to be indispensable to any divine project—Creation, Incarnation, Resurrection—in life and in death, especially one of enough magnitude to save this whole fractured cosmos. 

Who was this ONE in the Bible? Mary. She, with pain and fear and courage, started this Christian faith, this Christmas tradition, this Incarnation, this Christ. She bled for it. 

She was the ONE who labored  in pain and cried for joy. Now we all sing, “Joy To The World” with gusto. 

ADVENT. Who Is He? Lyn G. Brakeman, Spiritual Lemons, blog post, 12/04/22

All it takes is one—some ONE—to start a social/religious/political/cultural transformation, to break long-held patterns of behavior, our “ways” we say.  

Think Rosa Parks, Martin Luther, Alexander Hamilton, Syrophoenician Woman, Charles Dickens, Pope John XXIII, FDR, MLK, JFK, Julian of Norwich, William Shakespeare,Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Jesus of Nazareth, Harriet Tubman, Mary of Nazareth, Mr. Rogers, Toni Morrison, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Pauli Murray, Karl Jung, Jean Baker Miller, John the Baptist. Who is he? 

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I remember my brilliant young high school daughter singing in the musical Godspell. She sang “All For The Best” and never missed a beat or a word of the high speed lyric rendering of the biblical scenario about Jesus’s gospel, according to Matthew. The song was perfectly emblematic of what happens to people who are confronted with great confusion, great pain, and great hope all at once over a short sweep of time.    

Imagine the confused joy of people, especially those most destitute and those with a surplus of wealth and resources, also leaders, wondering and worrying about the future in chaotic times, just like our own, when suddenly out of the desert and into the crowds came an exotic messianic prophet screaming at people to REPENT NOW. Unburden yourselves of sins and worries now. Prepare!  

A herald’s voice cries in the desert:

Prepare the way of our God,

Make straight the paths of God. 

                            (Mt. 3,The Inclusive Bible)

Would you have listened? I might have sensed the urgency and wondered. I’d engage in lots of obsessive overthinking to prepare for all possible outcomes—known and unknown. I would have felt stirred by fear and hope all at once?  But I might also have condemned the message as crazy. I’d also call my closest most trusted confidantes or an authority figure, for support and answers.  Secretly with tears, I’d inwardly confess my own naked neediness? Then I’d step out and follow.

According to the biblical story, Jesus knew about his cousin John’s eccentricities and the risks of dire political consequences. John tried to persuade Jesus that he Jesus was the one who should be doing these repentance baptisms. But Jesus reassured John, telling him to “leave it this way for now”—in other words, there is a power greater than the two of us in whose faith we trust to make it all for the best. Then Jesus went into the waters for his baptism and began his career as an activist for justice, peace, and righteousness—not being holier than others, but being in right-sized and humble relationship with friend and foe alike.  

How did this new movement we call Christianity, ignited by one brave man named John work out?  In the Bible story, both John and Jesus established a following. Both became proclaimers of justice for all people, in the name of God. Both became heroes. Both were persecuted as enemies of the State. Both died ugly, ignominious deaths (beheading and crucifixion). Neither went unforgotten. 

 

Many still ask: who was that ONE who first cried out?