Having reached Day 362 of 2024’s 366 days, it’s probably safe to make some assessments of the year now nearly past.  I’ll go with “a very good year.”  Of course, any assessment of any year is going to be subjective.  Queen Elizabeth famously tagged 1992 as “annus horribilis” – a horrible year – and it was a horrible year for Her Majesty. Three of her four adult children had significant marriage problems and in November a fire caused extensive damage to Windsor Castle.  “1992 is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure,” the Queen said.  I don’t remember all of the details of my 1992, but it’s safe to say I look back on it with a pleasure significantly less diluted than the Queen’s.

And 2024? Sure, there have been some disappointments and sorrows that dilute the pleasure in looking back on the past twelve months, but, subjectively speaking, all in all, it’s been a very good year.

I don’t keep a Journal, but the collection of photos stored on my phone form a pretty good record of the year.  So, what story do those several hundred photos tell other than that I need to edit my albums? The best of the photos fall into four categories.  2024, then, was a year filled with the gift of family, the joy of routine, the continuing call to ministry, and an adventure in Portugal. Continue reading →

The bleak midwinter reflected in our backyard pond

If you invite an astronomer and a meteorologist to your Christmas party, make sure they don’t start talking about the seasons.  It could get ugly.  The astronomer will insist that winter doesn’t start until 4:21 tomorrow morning, and the meteorologist will tell him it began back on December 1.  In our nothing-is-simple world, it turns out that the scientists can’t agree on when the seasons start and end.  So, we have meteorological winter which began this year the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and astronomical winter that won’t begin until early tomorrow morning.

English poet Christina Rossetti wasn’t much concerned about the science of the seasons when she wrote about the bleak midwinter.  Whether it was 25 days or four days into winter, she wrote about that first Christmas long ago and its setting in bleak midwinter. Nor was she concerned about all those articles by the nitpicking scholars purporting to tell us when Christmas “really happened.”  (Likely not December 25, and almost certainly not in the year 1 A.D. – no year zero in our Gregorian calendar.)

Rosetti’s bleak midwinter describes our world in ways the astronomer and the meteorologist may not understand. Her bleak midwinter does not look forward to the inevitability of earlier sunrises and later sunsets.  It anticipates something much better. Continue reading →

“It ruined Christmas for me,” my friend used to say of a long ago and very sad event in her life. It had happened right before Christmas, and not only was Christmas sad the year it happened, she made sure it was sad every year, for decades, afterwards. Sharing Christmas sorrow with all around became her mission in life. Oh, she’d show up, a gloomy presence, at Christmas parties, and soon enough you’d hear her telling some unsuspecting guest about that Christmas past that ruined every Christmas present – and was sure to ruin every Christmas yet to come.

The thing is, though, you can’t ruin Christmas. You can misunderstand it. You can choose misery over joy, but you can’t ruin it. My gloomy friend could not ruin Christmas, as much as she tried, any more than Ebenezer Scrooge could ruin Bob Cratchit’s Christmas, as much as he tried.

It was never hard for me to resist my friend’s attempts to ruin Christmas. I like Christmas in its many manifestations. I can get picky about the historical and biblical accuracy of those Christmas card scenes with a star over the very European stable and the Three (!) Wisemen there on bended knee. I tend to think “not so” when we sing about no crying the little Lord Jesus made.  But I don’t need to let it ruin my Christmas. Continue reading →

During our time in Memphis last week, we had a great dinner at Belly Acres, a much-better-than-fast-food local hamburger restaurant. Although it was the evening before Thanksgiving, Belly Acres was already playing Christmas carols and songs as background music for the diners to enjoy. Bing Crosby was Dreaming of a White Christmas as you might expect, but he also sang the old English folk carol, God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

God rest you merry, gentlemen,
let nothing you dismay,
remember Christ our Savior
was born on Christmas Day
to save us all from Satan’s pow’r
when we were gone astray.
O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy.

I don’t remember when I first noticed the comma placement in the first line of the carol; I am pretty sure I was well into adulthood. I had assumed that the comma belonged before merry and that merry was an adjective describing the noun gentlemen. Apparently, those merry gentlemen needed rest. But it turns out that most hymnals put the comma after merry (the carol comes from sometime in the Seventeenth Century, long before anyone worried about punctuation).  Merry, then, is an adverb describing the rest the gentlemen seek. In the Seventeenth Century, merry meant more than a happy mood.  Adjective or adverb, it could mean pleasant, lovely, pleasing, peaceful, good. Continue reading →

Giving Tuesday seems like one more gimmick in our gimmick-addicted world.  Gimmick or not, Giving Tuesday reminds us that giving that helps others is not just a gospel imperative, but leads to joy and builds faith in our own lives. Giving Tuesday also encourages above-and-beyond giving that may stretch us past the offering plate or monthly contribution to our home congregation.

If you’re considering giving this Giving Tuesday, I offer three suggestions for your gift – causes Becky and I support and which we know help others and make the world around them a better place: Continue reading →