The However Psalmist

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It feels good to have another session of Everyday God written.  It’s the last for the year and, since another will lead the group for a while, it’s my last for the next three months and maybe my last forever.  And as good as it’s been, it will be okay, however it turns out.

I’ve finally got a good lead on the direction of my Christmas letter.  So I pray  the idea pans out.  But I can’t begin this for a few days since I want to come at it fresh rather than tired and depleted.  I need rest.   And I know my tiredness has caused me not to deliver my personal best toward Everyday God.  But like squeezing that last little bit out of a tube of toothpaste, it was all I had.  It will be okay, however it turns out.

The temperature gauge continues to drop  — it will be a below freezing 16 degrees tonight — and soon it will be time for me to fly south for a little while.  I’m ready to read and visit with friends and take long walks on the beach and eat seafood.  And gosh I hope it’s warmer down there.  And I hope the sun is out and the skies are blue.  But even if it rains and the skies are gray, it will be okay, however it turns out.

Where Are Your People?

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Annie with Mom's People

As I continue to write this week’s prayer practice, I’ve been wondering about other Mary-Elizabeth relationships that have existed through time.

My wondering grew personal during a retreat one year, when I was invited to reflect on a Mary from my own life.   I had no lack of Marys and  I sense that if we take time to think on it, we might  each find that we’ve had at least one Mary in our own lives who dropped everything to be by our side in our Elizabethan time of need.

Our Mary may have left loose ends swinging in the wind as she swished out her door so that she could rush into ours to help us pick up the loose ends and pieces of our lives.  She’s the person that made sure our physical needs were met without forgetting we needed emotional support as well.  She’s the one that gave us hope that all would be well as soon as we received word that she was on her way.  And  though we tried not to let our mind go there, we knew she’d be the one we could count on until the dreary end, if life didn’t match up to our best hopes.  Through her mere presence, our Mary carried the Divine into our lives, just as the Virgin Mary did for Elizabeth all those years ago.

I’ve been thinking of the times I’ve tried to play the part of Mary.  And I’ve been thinking of the times when I was forced to play the role of Elizabeth, waiting for help and hope to arrive.  Mom mostly played the part of my Mary;  and when the time came  in her own life, Mom had no shortage of Marys.  I was one of them.  My sister and her sisters were others.

But two of these were not just Mary’s, they were my mother’s people.  Christi and Jane were anointed this title by my niece Annie, back when Annie was not much beyond the first or second grade.

It happened when Annie walked into Mom’s house one day to find Mom working alone in the kitchen.  Normally, Annie would arrive to find Aunt Jane and my sister Christi working by Mom’s side.  But on that particular day, for whatever reason, Jane and Christi hadn’t yet arrived.

Looking around, Annie asked Mom, “Where are your people?

“My people?”  “Oh, do you mean your Aunt Jane and Aunt Christi?”  Yes, that was exactly who Annie meant.

“Yes.  Where are your people?”

“Oh, they’re not here yet.  But they’ll be here soon.”

I think it was then and there that Annie learned the names of Mom’s people.  And though she calls them by their proper names now, I think  Mary might do in a pinch.

All Atwitter in Galilee

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In anticipation of Thursday evening’s prayer meditation, I’m contemplating the untold story of Elizabeth and the Virgin Mary, the two who became miraculously pregnant after being forewarned by the same angel, five months apart.  One woman was old and so barren; the other young and so unmarried.  And I ask:  Am I the only one to wonder what the neighbors said about all of this?

Luke tells the story with the barest of details.  By all accounts, the neighbors didn’t say much at all.  The way Luke tells the story, it looks as if  Mary was on the run and Elizabeth was in hiding.  And both women appeared to be doing their darned best to keep their story under wraps.

No one knows the age of either.  We only know Mary was a virgin.  And twice Luke tells us that Elizabeth was “getting on in years.”  Elizabeth must have been really old since the usual eloquent Luke feels the need to repeat himself to ensure we don’t miss this important detail.  And maybe it’s because I too am “getting on in years” and past the age of child-bearing that I have a special interest in the details of Elizabeth’s story.

Luke tells us that Elizabeth is full of joy to have finally conceived.  This woman has waited all her long life to become a mother.  And rather than making the rounds at all the neighbor’s houses and sharing her good news with all her oldest and dearest friends — and I do mean OLD friends — Elizabeth goes into seclusion.  For five long months she sits and waits.  Was Elizabeth afraid to move or speak for fear of miscarriage?  Was the local gossip mill all atwitter about dear old Elizabeth finally getting pregnant?   If Luke knew, he didn’t bother to say.

We do know that six months later, a barely pregnant Virgin Mary shows up on Elizabeth’s doorstep.  And Mary is welcomed by Elizabeth with open arms and heady words.  The two women bless one another with their words and their presence.

Mary affirms Elizabeth and Elizabeth affirms Mary.  And don’t you know that in their mutual support of one another, that they both felt better about their being in the family way, even if it came about during an indecent and inconvenient time of their lives?  It’s so much easier to talk to someone who has walked or is walking in your same shoes.

Mary and Elizabeth had such a fine time together, that Luke tells us that Mary stayed with Elizabeth for three entire months.  And though Luke doesn’t say, I can’t imagine that Mary left Elizabeth until that bouncy healthy baby boy was delivered safe and full of sound.

There’s no way to really know all the details I’d like to know.  But one’s things for certain:  if a gossip had written the story, I bet we’d know all the pertinent details and then some.  And be all atwitter for their telling.

Because in two thousand years, people haven’t really changed that much.  Then and now, gossip and judgment of others spreads like wildfire until it burns itself out.  Or until a new story comes along to tantalize our interest.  It won’t be long before Tiger Woods will be out of the woodshed.

Focusing on others and their untold stories is so much easier than focusing on our own.  And I cringe at judgment, whenever and wherever I hear it.   I always want folks to play nice, to remember that we’re all human, that no one is good but God alone.  At least if we choose to believe what Jesus said.

And rather than bite my tongue, I find myself defending the guilty for being all too human.  And  as I judge the judges, I wonder where and when all the judging stops?  Who cares what the neighbors think?  Lord, help me to bite my tongue and just sit and listen.

Perhaps Luke was right to take the higher road in telling his story, to keep the good news from being tarnished by so much idle twitter.