From Beliefnet.com:
Advent Prayer, Day 16: Sing Unto the LordMonday December 14, 2009
Categories: Advent, Advent Prayer, Bible, Jesus, Prayer
By Claudia Mair Burney
Monday, the third week of Advent
"The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a mighty savior; He will rejoice over you with gladness, and renew you in his love, He will sing joyfully because of you, as one sings at festivals." Zephaniah 3:17-18
This is a season full of song. Before Thanksgiving day some radio stations devote all their airtime to holiday favorites until January. We read of angel choirs singing "glory to God in the highest," and open the doors of our homes to joyful carolers warbling "o come let us adore him." But Zephaniah presents a startling contrast: instead of us singing of Jesus' goodness, we get a picture of him belting out a festive praise song to us. Not only do we rejoice because of his salvation, he rejoices to save us.
Song of my soul,
Zephaniah's prophecy is good news! It's astonishing to think that you come, not only so that I can delight in you, but also so that you can rejoice over me! What a wondrous thought, that my salvation gives you immense satisfaction, and pleasure. Help me to keep the image of you smiling, rejoicing, and singing a joyous song--for me--ever in my heart and mind. Renew me in your love.
"Come, Lord Jesus."
Read more: http://blog.beliefnet.com/prayerplainandsimple/2009/12/advent-prayer-day-16-sing-unto-the-lord.html#ixzz182Aya6Mx
Day Sixteen:
Prepare Him Room
Make your house fair as you are able,
Trim the hearth and set the table,
People, look East, and sing today:
Love the Guest is on the way.
"Go away. There's no room for you here." As part of Las Posadas, a Hispanic Christmas tradition, homeowners pretend to turn away groups of friends and family who come knocking at their doors. Finally, they're persuaded to let in the visitors, who represent Mary and Joseph. Many see Advent as a time to make room, either spiritually or physically, for Jesus and for guests.
Our Lady's Juggler
One special night, a young monk-in-training discovers the deep meaning of 'invisible gifts.'
BY: Paulo Coelho, translated from the Portuguese by James Mulholland
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Reprinted with permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
A medieval legend tells us that in the country we know today as Austria the Burkhard family – a man, a woman and a child – used to amuse people at Christmas parties by reciting poetry, singing ancient troubadour ballads, and juggling. Of course, there was never any money left over to buy presents, but the man always told his son:
“Do you know why Santa Claus’s bag never gets empty, although there are so many children in the world? Because it may be full of toys, but sometimes there are more important things to be delivered, what we call “invisible gifts.” In a broken home, he tries to bring harmony and peace on the holiest night in Christianity. Where love is lacking, he deposits a seed of faith in children’s hearts. Where the future seems black and uncertain, he brings hope. In our case, the day after Father Christmas comes to visit us, we are happy to be still alive and doing our work, which is to make people happy. Never forget that.”
Time passed, the boy grew up, and one day the family passed in front of the impressive Melk Abbey, which had just been built.
“Father, do you remember many years ago you told me the story of Santa Claus and his invisible gifts? I think that I received one of those gifts once: the vocation to become a priest. Would you mind if now I took my first step towards what I have always dreamed of?”
Although they really needed their son’s company, the family understood and respected the boy’s wish. They knocked at the door of the monastery and were given a loving, generous welcome by the monks, who accepted the young Buckhard as a novice.
Christmas Eve came around. And precisely on that day, a special miracle happened in Melk: Our Lady, carrying the baby Jesus in her arms, decided to descend to Earth to visit the monastery.
All the priests lined up and each of them stood proudly before the Virgin trying to pay homage to the Madonna and her Son. One of them displayed the beautiful paintings that decorated the place, another showed a copy of a Bible that had taken a hundred years to be written and illustrated, while a third recited the names of all the saints.
At the very end of the line, young Buckhard anxiously waited his turn. His parents were simple people, and all that they had taught him was to toss balls up in the air and do some juggling.
When it came his turn, the other priests wanted to put an end to all the homage that had been paid, since the ex-juggler had nothing important to add and might even mar the image of the abbey.
Nevertheless, deep in his heart he also felt a great need to give something of himself to Jesus and the Virgin. Feeling very ashamed before the reproachful gaze of his brothers, he took some oranges from his pocket and began to toss them in the air and catch them in his hands, creating a beautiful circle in the air just as he used to do when he and his family traveled to all the fairs in the region.
At that instant, the baby Jesus, lying in Our Lady’s lap, began to clap his hands with joy. And it was to young Buckhard that the Virgin held out her arms to let him hold the smiling child for a few moments.
The legend ends by saying that on account of this miracle, every two hundred years a new Buckhard knocks on the door of Melk Abbey, is welcomed in, and for the whole time he remains there he warms the hearts of all who meet him.
The Holy Family Commutes
One community's adaptation of Las Posadas shows how an ancient story can become a living reality.
BY: Denise Roy
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It is in the shelter of each other that people live.
--Irish proverb
"They're here! They're here!" shouts four-year-old Tommy. His mother opens the door as he jumps up and down. Standing on the porch is a family of three from our church community, and they are carrying three statues-one of Mary, one of Joseph, and one of a camel. The sculptures of flat hammered brass, about 18 inches tall, are modern and elegant in their simplicity. "Do you have a place for these visitors to stay tonight?" asks the family at the door. "We do! We do!" Tommy says. "Come in!"
The family brings the statues inside and places them on the coffee table next to an Advent wreath. During the next hour the two families share hot cocoa, ginger cookies, laughter, and an evening prayer. After warm goodbyes, Tommy closes the front door. He asks if he can show Mary, Joseph, and the camel to his toys, and one by one he carries the statues to his room. There he introduces them to his trains and stuffed animals and many dinosaurs. Before Tommy crawls into bed, he places the travelers carefully on his nightstand, and has a long conversation with them in the darkness.
A scene very similar to this one will be repeated many times in our community during the weeks of Advent. It is our church's annual enactment of Las Posadas (meaning "lodging" or "shelter" in Spanish), a traditional celebration from Mexico that commemorates the Holy Family's search for a place to stay in preparation for Jesus' birth.
In our adaptation of this ritual, statues of Mary, Joseph, and a camel are taken from home to home for four weeks, with each individual or family hosting these guests overnight. The hosts, in turn, carry the travelers to another home.
As church members deliver and receive the figures, they have the opportunity to share music, food, conversation and friendship with two other families. They also record their thoughts and prayers in a cloth-covered journal that accompanies the Holy Family from home to home. At the end of the month-long journey, Mary, Joseph, and the camel arrive at our church on Christmas Eve. They are placed in a larger Nativity scene, and their arrival is woven into the beginning of our Christmas Eve service.
To a casual observer, the brass figures appear to be three simple statues. But sometimes the simplest things are the most sacred. As I sit and read the entries made in last year's journal, I recognize that these little statues carry not only a great Story-a pregnant woman and her husband seeking a place of safety for the child's birth, a child who will bring light to a darkened world-but also the stories of our community. As Mary, Joseph, and the camel travel from home to home, they bring along with them the stories and energy and spirit of each household. They connect us with an invisible thread, and I realize that we are all on a journey together.
Last year the first journal entry was made by Margaret, who had been recently diagnosed with leukemia. She had just completed a painful and exhausting round of chemotherapy. Because her immune system was compromised, she couldn't have many visitors. Although only one couple brought the statues to her home, she felt blessed by the entire community. A few weeks later, our beloved friend died of pneumonia.
Another entry was from Louise, who had lost her forty-year-old son a few months before to a sudden illness. Her son's death challenged her faith to its core, and she bravely struggled and prayed for a sense of inner peace. She placed the statues carefully on her mantle, and wrote, "Today I thought of Mary's tragedy losing a young son, and I gained comfort from her.even though we now celebrate his birth."
As I read other entries, I smile with remembered joy. Tim and Amy were expecting their first child. They described sitting by the fireplace and talking about how that year had been a preparation for the child to come. They realized that the thoughts they had about their own baby were probably not too different from the thoughts, hopes, and dreams that Mary and Joseph had as they walked the streets in search of lodging. Amy wrote, "We thought it appropriate to place Mary and Joseph in our soon-to-be-born baby's crib so they might feel at ease, knowing their baby will have a warm place to come into the world."
There are a number of entries from children, expressing their delight in hosting the Holy Family-especially the camel. One boy played the piano for the honored guests; another set out special food for each one. Many included the statues in their bedtime rituals, as they said prayers of gratitude and prayers for those who have no shelter or warmth. Even the adults experienced the sense of something sacred in their midst. One mother of two young sons wrote about how real the statues seemed to her. "The next morning I found myself thinking in the shower, I'll have to be quiet when I go into the kitchen. I don't want to awaken my guests. Strange how such inanimate figures took on a life of their own!"
As I read the entry I made last year, I am reminded how my four-year-old daughter, Julianna, welcomed our visitors. She introduced the camel to her stuffed Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, and the two animals became fast friends. At bedtime, she set the statue of Mary on my nightstand, and put Jofus (her pronunciation of Joseph) on her dad's nightstand. Of course the camel spent the night next to Julianna's bed. Before taking the statues to the next household, we asked them for a blessing, and we felt, somehow, they were happy to oblige.
A year has passed, and now this archetypal journey will begin once again. Children as well as adults will excitedly open doors and make room for the travelers. Light, music, prayers, food, and friendship will come into our homes, making them sacred space. This is a simple ritual, and yet it carries with it a warm and lasting grace. It helps us to feel connected-not only to our community, but also to something larger. We recognize, with a smile, that we are all part of a Holy Family as we make our way in the world, as we seek and give shelter, as we love one another, and as we bring life into our world.
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