ADVENT QUIET MORNING

This year's Advent Quiet Morning was probably one of the most difficult to put together. I rely upon my reading throughout the year to provide material for the AQM set lists, but most of my reading this year was Buddhist. So I really had to dig deep to find pieces, and it came down to the wire.

I created small pieces of artwork to accompany each set of readings, which provided me an additional component for this year's participants to focus upon during times of meditation and silence following the Bible passages, poems, essays, and excerpts.



"Holy Ground," acrylic gel print on 4½" x 6½" cardstock.

Holy Ground

• Exodus 3:1-15.
• "Dancing with Divine Fire: A Divine Invitation" by Barbara Holmes, from the Center for Action and Contemplation's "Daily Meditations" series.
• "On Fire, But Not Burned," an online poem by Andrea Skevington.
• "Visio Divina, August 21, 2024," an online devotion by Scott Erickson.

"Mary," acrylic gel print on 4½" x 6½" cardstock.

Mary

• Luke 1:26-38.
• Lyrics from "Let It Be" by The Beatles.
• Excerpts from "Bring It: A Letter from Mary," chapter ten of Season's Greetings: Christmas Letters from Those Who Were There by Ruth L. Boling.
• "Fourth Station: Jesus Meets His Mother" from Come to Me, All of You: Stations of the Cross in the Voice of Christ by Amy Ekeh.

"The Light," acrylic gel print on 4½" x 6½" cardstock.

The Light

• Genesis 1:1-5.
• Two lines from The Book of Hours I, 44 by Rainer Maria Rilke.
• Psalm 18:28.
• Lyrics from "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths.
• Psalm 27:1.
• Psalm 78:14.
• A quote from Hildegard of Bingen, from Vita Hildergard II.2, 71.
• Matthew 2:1-12.
• "Stars," a poem by Marjorie Pickthall.
• John 1:1-5.
• Four lines from Auguries of Innocence by William Blake.
• "A Resurrection Faith: Dawn's Radiant Light" by Father Richard Rohr and Becca Stevens, from the Center for Action and Contemplation's "Daily Meditations" series.
• Revelation 22:5.
• Two lines from Holden Evening Prayer.

ADVENT QUIET MORNING

This morning, I presided over my annual Advent Quiet Morning prayer service. The 2023 version of AQM was one of the most difficult to put together, but I think it was ultimately one of the best presentations. The content was probably the most "conservative" of those I've put together but I think that worked in its favor. It was also the most structured version of AQM, with each of the three sets structured in the same manner: song stanza, scripture passage, devotion/reflection, prayer, poem as part of each.

I used the three verses of the carol "What Child Is This" as the departure point and (loosely) built upon them.

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The set lists:

Mother

• Verse one of "What Child Is This."
• Psalm 139:13-16.
• "Vulnerability" from Honest Advent by Scott Erickson.
• "Prayer for Women Who Endured Abortions" from A Book of Uncommon Prayer by Brian Doyle.
• "A Penitent Considers Another Coming of Mary" by Gwendolyn Brooks.

Manger

• Verse two of "What Child Is This."
• Luke 13:31-35.
• "Jesus Our Mother" from Unscheduled Grace by Katherine Fleck and Matthew Marohl.
• "God Became a Child" from God Is in the Manger by Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
• "The Infant Jesus of Prague" by Paul Claudel.

Myrrh

• Verse three of "What Child Is This."
• Matthew 2:10-12.
• "Christmas Joy" by Emmy Arnold, as found in Watch for the Light.
• "As a Child Enters the World" from To Bless the Space Between Us by John O'Donohue.
• "Star of the Nativity" by Joseph Brodsky.

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There was a joint baby shower for three young couples who are expecting infants in December and/or January that followed a couple of hours later in the church. The theme of Advent Quiet Morning was selected prior to this event being scheduled, but the connection was perfect!

 

 

 

MINDFULNESS in McDONALD'S

Practicing mindfulness in McDonald's. Seriously. Trying to be present in the moment and engage the meal for what it is.

These are probably the worst two (McDonald's) cheeseburgers I've ever had. Is it because I'm focused on them as food? Because my awareness is directed upon them? Or because they were simply bad this time around? (Or all of the above?) They were overcooked and the edges were burnt. Is the equipment they were cooked in to blame? Or the person operating the equipment? Were they cooked more than once?

•

I need to do better than indulging an appetite that is addicted to sugar, salt, and fat.

ADVENT QUIET MORNING

This morning, I read poems, pieces, and excerpts from various authors for my annual Advent Quiet Morning. Many of the authors I read this year were those I first encountered as part of my long-distance, by-phone, weekly book club with my friend and reading/conversation partner.

The 2022 version of Advent Quiet Morning ended up in a very different place than I anticipated. First, I broke a bunch of my own arbitrary rules for how this event should look and feel—three sets of readings became four, there ended up being no Lutheran voice, I read more than one piece from two authors. Second, it was delayed by a week due to inclement weather. That meant that in the week between the originally scheduled date and the rescheduled date and time, I discovered a piece that became my favorite piece and the one that really anchored everything for me. Third, due to other events scheduled on the new date, I had to start half an hour earlier than originally planned. That likely caused some confusion for people, many of whom arrived late. I thought it was going up to just be two of us when the time to start arrived, but at the peak of the morning's attendance there were twelve people present. 

It ended up being a powerful morning and moment, filled with prophetic voices, pressing silence, and people resonating with the works.

The set lists for the "Opening (to You)" version of Advent Quiet Morning:

Gate

• "Psalm 24" by Norman Fischer. From Opening to You: Zen-Inspired Translations of the Psalms.
• "The Blessed Gates of the City" by Scott Cairns. From Anaphora.
• Excerpts from "Opening the Gates" by Makoto Fujimura. From Culture Care: Reconnecting with Beauty for Our Common Life.
• "Psaume 24: A l'Eternel appartient la terre," track three of La Musique de la BIBLE révélée. (Another rule broken: a piece of music.)

Mary

• "Mary..." by Leila Chatti. From Deluge.
• "Virgin" by Scott Erickson. From Honest Advent.
• "Prayer to the Madonna" by Brian Doyle. From A Book of Uncommon Prayer.

Body and Soul

• "On the Virgin" by Catherine of Siena. From The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime.
• "Beautiful Baby, Beautiful Child (a lullaby)" by Joy Harjo. From Conflict Resolutions for Holy Beings.
• "Silence" by Scott Erickson. Rough draft from his Instagram account.

Mary II

• "Goop" by Scott Erickson. From Honest Advent.
• "Sometimes I Wonder" by Kaitlyn Shetler. From a 2019 online post.
• "Litany While Reading Scripture in the Gynecologic Oncology Waiting Room" by Leila Chatti. From Deluge.

POMEGRANATE

Behold: the beauty of a pomegranate.

The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil in the Garden.

The fruit of which Persephone partook, sealing her fate as a part-time resident of the Underworld.

The fruit I associate with mindfulness, specifically with an exercise/game given to me by my therapist, which helped to bring me back from the brink of complete mental breakdown four years ago.

Behold: the mystery of a pomegranate.

RED XII: MEDITATION

"Red XII: Meditation."

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A meditation in floral form.

Mindfulness in the color red.

Ways to focus and leave the world

while the world resonates right there.

RED XI

"Red." Clockwise from upper left: Butterfly flower (schizanthus); red hook sedge; mossy saxifrage; Martha Washington geranium.

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The mindfulness of late autumn blows across the cold of winter and into early spring.

Even though unnoticed and without announcement.

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In the name of the Bee —
And of the Butterfly —
And of the Breeze — Amen!

—Emily Dickinson (F1 Sh1)

EMMANUEL and WITH-NESS

The Jesse Tree in the Sanctuary of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

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This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

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The third devotion began with some explication on the O Antiphons and their relationship to the song of Mary, the Magnificat of Luke 1. We moved from the general Os to meeting Adonai of the second Antiphon and now to Emmanuel of the seventh and culminating Antiphon. Emmanuel, "God with us," God present, was defined in opposition to the distant capricious Gods of the Roman Empire who reveled in bloodsport and violence. We reflected on how different the Christian expression of God is from the Roman divinities.

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We focused upon the preposition of with. We focused upon the notion of community.

With us. Among us. In Him. For us.

We heard from the poetry of T.S. Eliot in "Choruses from 'The Rock'" and Malcolm Guite from Waiting on the Word.

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We were turned loose for our final time of reflection, meditation, and prayer. I chose to not write. To not take photos. But to simply sit in the Sanctuary and think about what community means to me.

The beauty of the Spirit's work, if I'm actually paying attention, is that community was right there. Even though I didn't speak to anyone once the quiet of Advent Quiet Morning started (except during the "Sharing of the Peace" in worship) I felt a part of those gathered; in our individual concerns we prayed, reflected, and meditated as one entity. I watched a couple of participants who were members of the congregation work in the Sanctuary during the time of quiet reflection. One woman spent time adding evergreen branches and cones to the Advent wreath. (There's that tree again!) Another woman was polishing up candle brass. I thought of the work of similar servants in my own congregation.

I thought of the priests telling us earlier that we yearn for a community. And God in that community, with us.

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As the bell rang for the third and final time, there in one of the corners of the Sanctuary was a Jesse Tree (pictured above). We returned the Chapel, gathered for a final word from the priest, and departed.

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My soul was filled.

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I returned to the Sanctuary at the conclusion in order to take the above photograph. Then departed home in peace.

BIBLIA PAUPERUM and the BURNING BUSH

Meditation/study on the O Antiphons in the Library of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

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This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

—

The second devotion was on one of the pages of the Biblia Pauperum (Bible of the Poor). The central image was of the manger of the Nativity, with Moses encountering God/Christ speaking from the burning bush on the left and priests lifting up prayers to God via incense on the right. We heard of O Adonai. We learned of the Orthodox Church believing unburnt bush as a symbol of the Theotokos, Mary, the mother of God. We heard lines of poetry from (Saint) Emily Dickinson* and Malcolm Guite.

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*The designation of Emily as saint drew uncharacteristic laughter, loud and long, from those of us gathered, who were otherwise mostly silent.

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The burning bush of Exodus 3 and 4 reminded me of the words we heard earlier in the mornings worship from Isaiah 41:19-20—where God places "in the wilderness the cedar, the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive" and sets "in the desert the cypress, the plane and the pine together." With premonitions/echoes of the tree of the Cross (since the God of all time has collapsed time within God) as well as the Jesse Tree I would discover later in the morning.

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I headed off to the church's Library for a number of reasons. First, I wanted to look up a couple of passages in a Bible. Second, we were told that the Library was much warmer than some of the other spaces. Third, I needed to be in a different space than the Sanctuary since I knew I would likely be returning to it later.

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I looked up Bible passages. I peeked through a couple of other books. I meditated upon the woody and the vegetal: burning bushes, trees, berries and cones, life locked within these seed forms, full trees yet to be realized. And, if I thought of Rilke during the first session, Goethe and his The Metamorphosis of Plants was near of mind.

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The second ringing of the bell called me back from reflection and back to the Chapel.

MEDITATION on O

"Meditation on 'O'" by Troy's Work Table. Sanctuary of Christ Episcopal Church, Tacoma, Washington.

—

This morning I participated in "Come to the Light," the 2018 Advent Quiet Morning at Christ Episcopal Church of Tacoma, Washington. It was a morning of worship with Holy Communion, followed by three priest-led devotions on the O Antiphons with time for mediation, reflection, and prayer after each devotion.

—

I so needed this. Right now. This morning.

It was a time and place of quiet and stillness. A time of poetry and prayer. A place of counterculture carved out in the midst of capitalism and chaos.

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The first devotion was on the letter "O" as both exclamation and as simple letter. It was about the O of yearning. The notion expressed in the German term Sehnsucht. The knowledge that we are created with the capacity to yearn and that we yearn for communion with God, the divine, our Creator.

In the midst of distractions, we seek, yearn, long. We engage in a refusal of manufacture happiness.

The first devotion ended in a lectio divina reading of a poem from Malcolm Guite's book Waiting on the Word: A Poem a Day for Advent, Christmas, Epiphany.

"O Memory of time, reminding me, / My Ground of Being, always grounding me / ... / Come to me now, disguised as everything."

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I spent the time after the first devotions taking photographs of Os and circles I found in the Sanctuary. They were present in the racking of overhead lights, in stained glass windows, in offering plates, in loaves of communion bread. I also wrote poems based upon the notion of O, the antiphons, the yearning of Sehnsucht, the death of pets. Rilke's Duino Elegies were never far from my thoughts.

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For me, it was a time of devotion and meditation upon image.

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Then the priest arrived and rang the bell calling us back to the Chapel.

CHOWDER

The Wife's spectacular fish chowder + Jubelale + a rowsing dinnertime table reading of chapter 15, "Chowder," of MOBY-DICK.

Perhaps stretching the "red" a bit, but it's there: in the rim of the bowl and the bacon.

RED X

A week ago, these trees traded all of their leaves for brilliant berries.

Grayland Park, Puyallup, Washington.

RED IX

Afternoon. Riverwalk Trail, Puyallup, Washington.

Moment of mindfulness. Seeking red amongst the umber, ochre, olive, and tan leaves.

Not only was this leaf red, but it was also a rare maple leaf in the midst of mostly cottonwood leaves.

RED VIII

Late afternoon. North Hill, Puyallup, Washington.

A glass of cool refreshing water awaits me upon the cherry wood of my desk at work.

RED VII

Mid-afternoon. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

The holly berries are brilliant and ready. Not seen in this photo (since they it is "off stage") is the raucous flock of robins in the middle of this holly tree, feasting on berries, their own red breasts an additional splash of red against the dark waxy green.

RED VI

Mid-afternoon. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington

This trike is nearly as old as its original rider, weathered and feeling its age, in addition to serving decades and generations of children. It casts a long shadow even when the sun isn't low in the sky.

RED V

Noonish. Puyallup River Valley, Puyallup, Washington.

MINDFULNESS

I was challenged by my therapist to practice mindfulness. Be more attentive to the world around me when I walk each day. Engage my senses.

I decided to put a constraint on the first walk. I would focus on the scents and smells I encountered (in order) as The Dog and I walked the neighborhood this evening.

Sweet and sour sauce.
Laundry dryer sheets.
Lightly grilled dates and figs.
Burnt toast.
Campfire of pine wood.
Marijuana smoke.
Gas fumes/exhaust from a leaky muffler.
Wet leaves.
Red licorice.
Waffle cones.
Teak.
Burnt match.
Candle wick.
Burnt cedar leaves.
Black walnut rinds.

All while walking the dark sidewalks and streets, illuminated here and there by the amber light of porch lights and windows, the blue light of enormous flat screen televisions. Beneath a nearly full moon trying to peek through the insistent clouds.