Advent 2 Wednesday: Nova

Good news: "Hail" is made from "Eve"...

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
Gabriel of high degree,
He came down from Trinity,
From Nazareth to Galilee.
Nova, nova.

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
I met a maiden in a place,
I kneeled down afore her face
And said, "Hail Mary, full of grace!"
Nova, nova.

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
When the maiden heard tell of this
She was full sore abashed y-wis
And weened that she had done amiss.
Nova, nova.

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
Then said the Angel, "Dread not thou,
For ye be conceived with great virtue,
Whose name shall be called Jesu".
Nova, nova.

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
"It is not yet six weeks agone
Sin Elizabeth conceived John
As it was prophesied beforn."
Nova, nova.

Nova, nova, Ave fit ex Eva.
Then said the maiden, "Verily,
I am your servant right truly,
Ecce, ancilla Domini!"
Nova, nova.

Advent 2 Tuesday: Scenes from an Advent * edited

Beloved's home is torn apart.

There is a structural issue with her building, about a hundred year old structure, an apartment building, which houses her business on the ground level and has 6 beautiful apartments above. Beloved lives in an apartment directly over the business.

The structural issue was discovered early in the summer/ late spring. It has taken all this time (more than six months) to go from discovery to plans being drawn up by a contractor in conjunction with an engineer, to getting the city on board with a grant to assist with the cost. They have recently taken the front off the building, directly affecting Beloved's living space. What was an airy, spacious loft-style apartment is now closed in with a temporary wall, insulated but allowing no light in.

That's the first thing.

We are still struggling to get out of the economic downturn. Beloved's business is feeling it.

That's the second thing.

Beloved recently got a hateful, anonymous phone message, targeting her for her sexuality. The person who left it had clearly been in her place of business, as he described in detail items that can be seen there. It used language I cannot repeat, it was so vile and frightening. The moron who left it, however, did not block his phone number, so Beloved was able to give it to the police-- who proceeded to tell her how hard these things are to prove, and that she essentially shouldn't expect them to be able to charge anyone.

The day after she reported it to the police, her car was covered in nasty graffiti-- written in the snow, mercifully.

That's the third thing.

My Beloved, little darling atheist she is, would cringe at this request. So I make it on my behalf, not hers. Would you pray for her, friends? Just that she would feel some comfort and assurance in the midst of what is, at the moment, a dark and stressful season? We don't have to tell her about it. Thanks a bunch.

Not One, but Two!

Sermons, that is. Here, and here.

Peace to you.

Advent 2 Sunday

Advent 1 Thursday: Scenes from an Advent

It is dark outside, in the cozy way it is dark early these days. I am standing at the stove, stirring three pounds of ground turkey in a sizzling pot for chili. Petra is sitting on the living room couch, earbuds engaged, watching/ reading/ surfing something or other on her laptop.

As I stir the turkey, mixing in the chopped onions and peppers, I am crying. Quietly. If Petra were to catch me crying I would be mortified.

I am crying because Petra has told me, in no uncertain terms, that she will not do something with me. What it is, is not important. It was a mother-daughter bonding thing, in days of yore. It is something we enjoyed together quite a lot, once upon a time. I have just spent about 10 minutes cajoling, mock-threatening, whining to get her to agree to do it with me. But she is resolved. Petra the 17 year old will not do what Petra the 16 year old would, or the 15 year old. She is done, with that particular mother-daughter bonding activity. She is not interested.

I am crushed. Crushed beyond all reason, quite frankly. As I stir and cry I frantically ask myself what on earth it is that is so devastating to me about this. And the answer is so simple. She is growing up, which means, by definition, that she is growing away. It is all so developmentally appropriate. It is what is supposed to happen to young adults. They differentiate, they individuate. They become who they are, in some measure, by clarifying who they are not. Who Petra is not, today, is someone who wants to do that thing with her mom any more. She doesn't want to do it any more. She did, but now she doesn't.

And that is a loss for me, such a loss it has me crying over the chili. Such a loss, such a blow, it has me contemplating revenge, such as.... being cold. Refusing to watch "Glee" with her. Making her walk to school.

I blow my nose, and pull myself together. I will do this thing I enjoy by myself, or with a friend. Maybe with Beloved. I will recognize that Petra has the right not to do something she won't find enjoyable now (even though she did before). I will rejoice and be glad that I have this amazing daughter, this beautiful and accomplished young woman with a mind of her own who does not feel enslaved or trapped by her mother's feelings. I will be grateful for the adult being born in the child. I will buck up, for heaven's sake. As I throw the beans into the pot Petra comes into the kitchen, and she lays her head on the back of my neck.

Mom, will you still love me even though I don't want to do that?

I spin around and give her a fierce hug. Of course, I will. I give her a big smack on the top of her head. Of course I will love you, forever and always no matter what. I'm sorry I gave you even a moment's doubt about that. And we both laugh. Good, she says. Frankly, I was a little worried. And we laugh again.

Birth is hard.

Advent 1 Wednesday: Advent In My Ear

This is what I'm listening to. I love its harshness. I rejected a version by another group I really like because it was too sweet. This is not a sweet song. The "O" antiphons, on which this is based, arise from fierce longing.

Fierce longing.

Advent 1 Tuesday: World Aids Day

Surely his salvation is at hand for those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground, and righteousness will look down from the sky.

~ Psalm 85:9-11

I grew up across the street from a body shop. It was owned by two guys, Jim and Terry. Jim was a family man, married to a local girl, father of two. Terry was single.

Terry was also my brother's best friend, despite the differences in their ages... 12 years. My brother and Terry shared a love for fishing, ice hockey, and jazz. Terry taught my brother a lot about car engines. Terry came over to our house for dinner, a lot, so much so that my parents took to calling him "number two son."

When my brother was away at college, something happened. Fairly typically, I was left out of the loop, but Terry and my parents spent long hours sitting together at the kitchen table, drinking glasses of beer, talking in low voices. The following weekend my brother came home. It was only after he went back to school that my mother let me know what was going on: Terry was gay. My parents had found out, and they thought Terry "owed it to my brother" to tell him. So, he had, and now, everything was more or less back to normal. New normal. Sort of like Beloved and me having Thanksgiving dinner with my dad.

When I was in college Terry settled down with a partner. Not long after that we learned that he was sick; he had full-blown AIDS. He lived three more years. His partner nursed him tenderly to the end. Then, after Terry died, his parents kicked the partner out of the house (it was in Terry's name and he didn't have a will). (My parents, not liberal by a long shot, were shocked by that.) Terry missed the AIDS "cocktails" by just a year or two. If the onset of his disease had just been a bit slower... but it was not.

Praying tonight, in Terry's memory, for a time when righteousness and peace will kiss; when steadfast love and faithfulness will meet; and when salvation will be at hand for all those who mourn.