Category Archives: Faith and Spirituality

Community, Faith and Spirituality, Family, Holiday

Live Nativity 2024

The Christmas Eve live nativity is one of our church’s most beloved traditions, very popular with the local community.  For several hours on the afternoon of December 24, the painted nativity figures arranged in the creche are joined by a group of living, breathing beasties. My daughter and I haven’t missed the event yet. 

The sweet, sturdy little burro was back.  I love his floppy, velvety ears and thick, buff-colored coat. He’s the furry embodiment of patient, calm endurance.  How appropriate that his long-ago forbear carried Mary and her unborn child across the rugged paths from Nazareth to Bethlehem. 

The donkey’s partner was not the gray hump-backed ox of previous years, but a petite black cow.  The two seemed perfectly content to munch hay and be admired by a continuing parade of humans. 

A goat and a sheep hunkered down in the hay, apparently intent on sleep, but repeatedly awakened by small, curious, caressing hands. 

The camel this year was Moses, a determined snuggler.  As if on cue, he rested his heavy head on the shoulder of any person who stepped up next to him for a photo op. 

These two kids were unsure about being in immediate proximity to Moses’s enormous face, so their dad held them at a slight distance. Moses, always easy-going, nestled his head on his trainer’s shoulder, instead.

During the hours that Moses the camel and his hirsute entourage are holding court, the inanimate nativity figures recede into the background. But once Moses and the other animals have been led back to their trailer (and are likely on on their way to their next gig in Northern Virginia), the painted figures remain in their places in the simple wooden creche.  But on Christmas Eve there is an essential addition.  The empty spot between Mary and Joseph is filled.  A homemade manger holds a swaddled doll. The other figures have a focal point toward which to direct their reverent gazes.  

When I first brought the fiberglass nativity forms up to the church, after finishing the work of repainting, I was struck by the bare starkness of the shelter that encloses them.  Did it need some swags of greenery, perhaps?  Certainly no red bows or shiny ornaments, but branches of fir, pine, or spruce?  Sprigs of holly and berries? 

But no.  Even such natural decorations are part of the trappings of our commercial, cozy, secular “Merry Christmas.”  The humbleness of the scene is the point.  The nativity grouping speaks to a timeless, sacred truth.  While that great truth inspires, to some degree, at least, the jolly festiveness of the season, it needs no dressing up.  It’s fitting that hay is the only adornment.   As the Grinch discovers, Christmas “came without ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages, boxes or bags.”

The gift of God’s grace came on Christmas in the form of a baby, unfathomably both human and divine.  That baby grew up and served as a role model for us, his fellow brothers and sisters.  During his earthly life, Jesus personified kindness, compassion, mercy and forgiveness.  In his words and in his actions, he taught that our life’s goal should be to follow his example. 

The awesomeness of the gift of salvation offered to us through Christ’s sacrificial death can never be overstated. But Christmas reminds us to look to our brother Jesus to guide us in living every day, here in our present world.  This world needs all the love we can give. 

Community, Faith and Spirituality, Holiday

Christmas 2025

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Joy to the world, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King,

let every heart prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven and heaven, and nature sing. 

Joy to the world, the savior reigns!

Let all their songs employ;

while fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains

repeat the sounding joy, repeat the sounding joy,

repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,

nor thorns infest the ground;

he comes to make his blessings flow,

far as the curse is found,

far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world, with truth and grace,

and makes the nations prove

the glories of his righteousness,

and wonders of his love,

and wonders, and wonders, of his love.

–Joy to the World

Words: Isaac Watts, 1719 (Psalm 98: 4-9)

Music:  Arr. from G.F. Handel, 1741, by Lowell Mason, 1848

Art and Architecture, Community, Faith and Spirituality

Nativity Makeover

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The group, after re-painting, in my mother’s living room.

At the end of September, a friend asked if I could give our church’s well-worn nativity figures “a coat of paint.” These fiberglass forms are set up every Advent in front of the church under the shelter of a wooden creche. They likely date to the early 1960s. The human figures vary from about three to four feet in height. Hollow, they’re filled with sand to weigh them down. I hadn’t given them a very close viewing, ever. I only remember thinking that they could look better.

Mary, before.

My friend had noticed that many of the forms were chipped, with patches of peeling paint.  When he asked me to repaint them, I think he was envisioning a quick coating to cover the bare spots and reseal the fiberglass. 

Joseph, before.

But I couldn’t do only that.  The colorless faces called out for definition, for enlivening touches.  The eyes, in particular,  were empty and blank.  The clothing could benefit from gradations in hue and shadow.  The faces and bodies needed nuance.  

As I mentioned in an October post, the task of improving the animals struck me as less daunting, so I started with them. I’m generally not a painter of people, and the human forms, I knew, would be challenging. I began with Mary. It was an easy decision to replace her golden hair with dark brown, but her smooth, oval face proved especially troublesome. I kept returning to her as I worked on the others. Gradually, she gained a bit of character. Once I darkened Joseph’s eyes and eyebrows, he was revealed to be quite handsome.

I brightened up the angel’s ghostly pallor in her face and wings. She’s one of the few figures to have ears. I tried to reduce somewhat the size of her right ear, which was particularly prominent. She still has a rather elfin look, which I find charming.

The shepherd’s expression, before, was a grumpy, curmudgeonly squint.  I tried to give him a more benign, dignified demeanor.  I also changed his purple cloak to one of brown.  Purple dye, during ancient times, was exorbitantly expensive, since it was painstakingly produced from the glands of huge numbers of small sea snails.  It was a color for kings, not for humble shepherds.  

One of the Magi, before
Another wise man, before
And another wise man, before

The sole Biblical source for the three Magi is the Gospel of Matthew (2:1 – 12) which refers to “wise men from the East,” likely not kings at all, but astrologers, as they were led by a star to Bethlehem and the home of the holy family. Their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh attest to their substantial wealth. Because of their Eastern origins, they were probably not Jews. Some sources suggest that they could have been priests of the Zoroastrian religion, widely practiced throughout Persia. Their inclusion in the nativity story serves to demonstrate a crucial point:  the baby Jesus was sent by God to be a savior not only for the Hebrew people, but for all nations. It was in early medieval times that the wise men began to be identified as kings, each hailing from  one of the three known continents of Europe, Asia and Africa.  The message in this identification is clear: the baby in the manger offers salvation to everyone, the world over.  

The faces of the three kings were already nicely differentiated from each other. Because of their distinctive features, they required the least of my efforts. A more subtle application of paint brought out their personalities and enlivened them.

Of all the forms, the camel was probably the least in need of a makeover.   I lightened his coat and touched up his face.  His regally fringed saddle and harness needed only some shading and glints of deep red.

Finally, when the last coat of polyurethane had been applied (some eighty hours of work having passed since I dipped a brush into primer to start on the little lamb) it was time for the group to leave my mother’s house.  Mama and I were sort of sad to see them go, as they’d appeared very much at home in her living room.   I couldn’t squeeze the entire group into my little car at once, so I made two trips.  They were pleasant passengers. 

Now the nativity figures are outside our church, in their usual positions in the creche.  There is a notably empty space at the center, between Mary and Joseph.  That blank spot speaks to the essence of Christmas.  No amount of elaborate decorating, or frenzied holiday partying, or masses of material gifts, can satisfy that hollow place in our souls.  But if we let it, God’s love can fill us to overflowing, so that we may be bearers of kindness and compassion to those who need it most.  Our world is often dark.  But with the true gift of Christmas, we can bring the light. 

Let’s all bring a little light, this holiday season!

Community, Faith and Spirituality, Holiday, Nature

Thankful, on this Thanksgiving Day (2024)

On this Thanksgiving day, a chilly drizzle dims, but cannot mask, the beauty of fall’s spectacular finale here in Northern Virginia.

Late-blooming roses and a few determined petunias share space with brilliant red maple leaves, soon to fly away. As I give thanks for nature’s many gifts, the words of this familiar old hymn, a comforting presence, abide with me today.

For the beauty of the earth,

for the glory of the skies,

A red maple, in its blazing final burst of fall color.

for the love which from our birth, over and around us lies.

Lord of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise. 

Due to some unsupervised weeding and many hungry deer, only one Montauk daisy has bloomed in our patch this season.

For the beauty of each hour, of the day and of the night,

hill and vale and tree and flower, sun and moon, and stars of light;

Lord of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise. 

A ginkgo tree, a living link to the era of the dinosaurs, dressed in its golden November glow.

For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind’s delight,

for the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight;

For the past two years, this azalea puts forth a few fall blooms. Unlike the typical spring blossoms, of dark fuchsia, the off-season flowers have petals of striated pale pink.

Lord of all, to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise. 

Wishing you and your loved ones a Thanksgiving filled with many blessings!

 

–For the Beauty of the Earth

Words: Folliot S. Pierpoint, 1864

Music:  Conrad Kocher, 1838

Community, Faith and Spirituality, Nature

Spring, in Full Swing

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We’re in the midst of a gorgeous, lush spring here in Northern Virginia. Despite the perhaps more than unusually erratic temperature fluctuations, the season’s progress has been moving along at a consistent, stately pace. A fair number of rainy days have no doubt contributed to the luxuriance of flowers and foliage, and in contrast, the periods of sunshine have been all the more glorious.

Our Appalachian Red redbuds, marked by their brilliant fuchsia buds, were in peak bloom toward the end of April.

The lilac in our courtyard generously shares its delightful fragrance, so that we sense its presence even when it’s out of sight.

I love these mayapples, a gift from a garden-wise neighbor. Soon after sprouting, the plants resemble closed umbrellas. The leaves then unfurl, forming a flat canopy. A single white blossom grows beneath the foliage. After blooming, a small apple-like fruit forms, and its weight causes the plant to bow down toward the ground. Box turtles are attracted by the scent, and they spread the seeds (in their poop) along the forest floor. Like other native spring ephemerals, the mayapple is a humble beauty that may be easily overlooked.

Our azaleas, on the other hand, have been boldly emphatic in color and bloom.

Local Kwanzan cherry trees, past their peak, shower the ground below with their pink petals.

This towering jacaranda tree is an unusual one for our neighborhood. A native of South America, it bursts forth in late April with big clusters of fragrant lavender flowers, trumpet-shaped. Its seed pods break into neat halves, each resembling a small boat.

The edges of our courtyard and walkway abound with purple and white violets, bunched together like small, perfect bouquets.

So many of nature’s spring treasures, high above and on the ground below, are there for the seeking. I try to let each one remind me that even when so much of the world is caught up in conflict, animosity and division for its own sake, there is goodness, all around.

Let’s remember to search for, and to savor that goodness. And, when we can’t find it, maybe we need to embody it, to be and share that goodness. It abides with us, no matter what.

Community, Faith and Spirituality

It All Comes Down to This: Love one Another

Today is Maundy Thursday, the day that commemorates Jesus’s Last Supper. At the beginning of that final Passover meal, Jesus did something totally unexpected: he washed the feet of his disciples. Teachers, rabbis and important men absolutely did not wash the feet of others in first-century Palestine. This was a lowly, degrading task allocated to a servant or slave. The disciples were confused. But Jesus persisted. He tried to explain that his actions were to be taken as an example:

And since I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example to follow. Do as I have done to you. (John 13:14)

After the meal, Jesus continued his final words of instruction to his devoted followers:

So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. (John, 13: 34)

The word “maundy” comes from mandatum, the Latin for command. It refers to this new commandment.

The foot washing, together with the new commandment, send a clear message. On Jesus’s last night with his disciples before his arrest and death, his goal was to emphasize that the very essence of his ministry comes down to this: Love each other. Take care of each other. Serve each other.

Here are a few things he did not say:

Be judgmental and critical. Make sure people are practicing correct theology before showing kindness or compassion.

A good way to spread my message is through government control.

Some people are not worthy of your love, your care, or your service.

Friends, love is the answer. Our brother Jesus has told us, through his words, and through his actions. Let’s give it a try.

For a previous post discussing the foot-washing of Maundy Thursday, see here.

Faith and Spirituality

Palm Sunday 2024

Palm Sunday begs to be called out, to be distinguished from just any other first day of the week. It launches the period known by Christians the world over as Holy Week. Palm Sunday sets an expectant, celebratory tone, one that contrasts, shockingly and painfully, with the shattering disappointment of the terrible day we call Good Friday. In between falls the oddness of Maundy Thursday. So much is packed into the events of these seven days, which lead up to the triumphant culmination of Easter. Indeed, without Easter, the story of new life, hope and possibility would have been one of failure, death and despair. I’ve written about the days of Holy Week several times before. Below is my Palm Sunday post from April 1, 2012. 

 

On the day that we’ve come to think of as Palm Sunday, Jesus was hailed as a celebrity, a military and political hero-to-be.  As he and his disciples entered  the city of Jerusalem, cheering crowds greeted him with cries of “Hosanna,” which means “Save us.” The news was out: at long last, the King of Israel was here.  He was the chosen one sent by God to restore power to the Jewish nation.  He rode on a donkey to fulfill the prophecy in Zechariah 9:9:  See, your king comes to you, righteous and having salvation, gentle and riding on a donkey.

PalmSunday0141

It was a time of great rejoicing for the people of Israel.  A new day of freedom and empowerment was dawning, thanks to the advent of the conquering Messiah.  The palm branches they waved were emblems of Israeli nationalism.

In just a few days, though, the tide would turn. The admiring throngs would scatter when it became clear that Jesus was not the kind of king they had desired and expected.  Even his dearest friends would desert him.  He would be betrayed by one of his own, turned over to the Roman authorities and crucified. On Good Friday, it would appear that this man was no winner.

PalmSunday005

Good Friday, however, is not the end of the story.

Faith and Spirituality, Family, Holiday

Once Again, Ash Valentine’s Day

This year, Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day both fall on February 14.  The last time this happened was in 2018.  I know, because I wrote about it back then.  What follows is my post from six years ago, with a few minor changes. 

These two holidays are unlikely bedfellows, so to speak.  Ash Wednesday is a day when Christians are urged to face mortality head-on and clear-eyed, to gaze into the bleakness of what would have been, had it not been for God’s saving grace.  It marks the start of Lent, the forty-day period leading up to Easter, during which prayer, repentance and self-denial are encouraged.  Lent’s Biblical basis is Christ’s retreat to the wilderness to commune with the Father in preparation for his ministry. 

Valentine’s Day, on the other hand, needs no explanation.  It’s a day for celebrating love in all its forms. It typically involves the giving and getting of various treats.  It’s a day for indulgence, not denial. 

To Lenten sticklers for self-abnegation, the concurrence of Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day will likely pose a conundrum.  To deny or not to deny?  Chocolate or no chocolate?  Dessert or no dessert?  Wine or no wine with that special Valentine dinner?  Perhaps a compromise:  to begin the denial process on February 15? 

I’ve written several times about Ash Wednesday.  See: Looking into the Ashes (March 1, 2017), and Saved from the Ashes (February 10, 2016).  I’ve tried Lenten self-denial in the past, but I’ve been known to lose track of the larger purpose.  The season’s truly spiritual pursuits–prayer, Bible reading, penitential introspection–they sometimes were left in the dust (or the ashes) of Ash Wednesday.  A couple of times, when I renounced all things sweet, my Lenten journey became little more than a period of dieting.  I wince when I recall certain instances of self-righteous forbearance that must have made me a most disagreeable companion.  See Mindful Eating, and a Mindful Lent (March 24, 2012). 

The purpose of Lent is to try to become more like Christ.  Instead, in our singular focus on denial, we become more like the Pharisees, those elite Jewish leaders who prided themselves on following every iota of the Mosaic Law.  They were probably among those Jesus denounced for ostentatious fasting:  “And when you fast, don’t make it obvious, as the hypocrites do, for they try to look miserable and disheveled so people will admire them for their fasting.  I tell you the truth, that is the only reward they will ever get.” (Matthew 6: 16, New Living Translation)  Jesus called out the Pharisees for their empty, showy arrogance and for the stumbling blocks they set up for others:  “You shut the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in people’s faces.  You won’t go in yourselves, and you don’t let others enter either” (Matthew 23: 13).  Overly zealous regarding trivial details, they tended to miss the big picture:  “You are careful to tithe even the tiniest income from your herb gardens, but you ignore the more important aspects of the law–justice, mercy and faith.  You should tithe, yes, but do not neglect the more important things. Blind guides!  You strain your water so you won’t accidentally swallow a gnat, but you swallow a camel!” (Matthew 23: 23-24).   

On Ash Wednesday, I look into the dark ashes and contemplate Jesus’s supreme sacrifice.  I give thanks that his unimaginable love lifts me from the depths of destruction and despair. 

On Valentine’s Day, I’ve usually painted cards for family members, sometimes also for friends. There will be candy for my mother and daughter. I try to cook one of my husband’s favorite meals. If I’m really on top of things, I’ll make the caramel-topped sponge cake, or the sugar cookies he likes. (I apologize in advance this year, when there will be no homemade desserts.) H may come home with a box of Russell Stover’s candy–maybe the Assorted Cremes? He knows that’s my favorite. He’s also learned over the years that I’m not a fan of that traditional over-priced Valentine staple–the bouquet of dark red roses.

During Lent, I’ll try to take Jesus as my role model. I’ll keep my Bible close at hand.  I’ll eat some chocolates.  I may also swallow a few gnats. 

But I hope to avoid the camels.  

Happy Ash Valentine’s Day!