The Train's Whistle

I've been listening for it - the early morning whistle of the train in the distance. If the wind is just right and I am very still to listen, I can hear the faint " woo-woo" above the rumbling on the tracks. Faint, nostalgic, mysterious, but on schedule and moving through to its destination.

In 1963, Curtis Mayfield wrote the song "People Get Ready" after the March on Washington. Forty years later he was interviewed  by  NPR's Terry Gross. He said the song was a subconscious product of "the preachings of my grandmothers and most ministers when they reflect from the Bible." http://www.npr.org/news/specials/march40th/people.html

Those reflections are still happening. And they are still coming from the Bible. Those reflections transcend all barriers and welcome a world to "get on board." The whistle of a train announces its arrival like John in scripture, who announced the arrival of Jesus.  Do you hear the Advent whistle calling? Do you hear the sounds of Christmas coming? Or maybe you prefer the rumblings on the tracks of this world? All you need is faith and you will hear.

People get ready, there's a train a comin'
You don't need no baggage, you just get on board
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin'
Don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord

People get ready for the train to Jordan
It's picking up passengers from coast to coast
Faith is the key, open the doors and board 'em
There's hope for all among those loved the most.

There ain't no room for the hopeless sinner
Who would hurt all mankind just to save his own
Have pity on those whose chances grow thinner
For there's no hiding place against the Kingdom's throne

So people get ready, there's a train a comin'
You don't need no baggage, you just get on board
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin'
Don't need no ticket, you just thank the Lord

Great Conductor of the Universe,

                               as you come on your schedule,

                                                                               I wait and I listen to give you  my ticket of thanks.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2nvVXjoNCOU&feature=share

Small Signs of God - Angel With The Cross

Looking back to Advent of 2007, I now believe it was a visit from an angel:

'I am waking in the night, not from worry, but from dreams and songs I learned as a child. One night I woke to these words, “Jesus doeth all things well.”  I wasn’t sure about the song, but I knew the tune and the next morning I went to the hymnal and found these words:

All the way my Savior leads me; What have I to ask beside?

Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through life has been my Guide?

Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, Here by faith in Him to dwell!

For I know, whate’re befall me, Jesus doeth all things well.

The conversation in the dream went something like me saying, “I cannot do this.  I do not want to do this.”  And someone else saying, “You have to do this.  You can do this.  Do not let temptation or self-pity get in your way and do not be afraid.” 

2 Corinthians 5:7 says, “we walk by faith, not by sight.”  When we can see clearly, it is not faith, but reasoning of our mind.  I have learned to rely less on reasoning and to trust my conversations in the wee hours and rely on faith to see me through.

Jesus does “doeth” all things well – he comes to us again this Christmas as Immanuel – God with us - in the middle of the night, during the day through our family and friends, and before our eyes each and every minute." 

Two years later in Rome I would take a picture of each angel on the Bridge of Angels (Ponte Sant'Angelo) that spans the Tiber River. Just a few steps away from St. Peter's Basilica, the bridge reflects the psychological shift from secular to sacred that occurs when pilgrims crossed from the busy streets of Rome over to the churches of the Vatican. The Angel with the Cross's inscription reads: "Cuius principatus super humerum eius," or, "Dominion rests on his shoulders." (Isaiah 9:6) Just a few verses before this, the prophet announced that "a child is born to us, a son is given us."

Wonderful Counselor, who  carries  the cross for me this Advent, guide me on the bridge from secular to sacred.

Small Signs of God - Weeping

The headlines tear to shreds my peaceful Advent journey.

 A small child is senselessly murdered in my city.

God, where were you on that playground? God, you whose eyes are on the sparrow, who sees and knows everything, where were you when she cried out, was beaten, tormented and thrown into a garbage dumpster?

It is unthinkable and my heart bleeds for the brokenhearted mother who is reeling in pain and torment and whose life will never be the same. I look for the "small sign" and can't seem to find it through my weeping.

I return to the writing of Ann Weems who gives voice to anguish.

"Anger and alleluias careen around within me, sometimes colliding. Lamenting and laughter sit side by side in a heart that yearns for the peace that passes understanding. Those who believe in the midst of their weeping will know where I stand.

In the quiet times this image comes to me: Jesus weeping.

Jesus wept,

and in his weeping,

he joined himself forever

to those who mourn.

He stands now throughout all time,

this Jesus weeping

with his arms about the weeping ones:

'Blessed are those who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.'

He stands with the mourners,

for his name is God-with-us.

Jesus wept.

'Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted.' Someday. Someday God will wipe the tears from their eyes.

In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life,

there is a deafening alleluia

rising from the souls

of those who weep,

and of those who weep with those who weep.

If you watch, you will see

the hand of God

putting the stars back in their skies

one by one."(Psalms of Lament)

Holy Infant Jesus, your tears are joined to mine. I hear the alleluias.

Small Signs of God - The Rose

It's a mystery to me how a rose bush can die back in the winter and look like it will never ever live again. Then, quietly, a little shoot springs from the dead wood. Then a stalk forms and sends out a perfectly shaped bloom. It is a gift and a mystery and a small sign of Advent.
I could never explain the words to this haunting  carol, but the powerful poetic image of a flower, particularly a beautiful rose, sprouting in the winter captures the imagination. And who is Jesse anyway? Jesse was the much less famous father of King David. Isaiah said that a tender shoot would rise up. But it would take 600 years of the royal authority lying dormant, then out of the dead stump comes new life, the tender stem in the form of Jesus, the rose.

Lo, how a rose e'er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung.
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
As men of old have sung;
It came, a flow'ret bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.

The Rose which I am singing,
Whereof Isaiah said,
Is from its sweet root springing
In Mary, purest Maid;
Through God's great love and might
The Blessed Babe she bare us
In a cold, cold winter's night.

The floweret, so small
That smells so sweet to us
With its clear light
Dispels the darkness.
True man and true God!
He helps us from all trouble,
Saves us from sin and death.

Read that third verse again.  Jesus, the clear light dispels the darkness. Remember, things had been dark for 600 years. And then a true man and true God who helps us from all trouble and saves us from sin and death.

Bright Christmas Rose, bloom in my heart with sweet fragrance for all.

Small Signs of God - Faces

I missed my exit, flying past my destination deep in thought.  Driving on for another mile, I exited to return and there he was - a desperate man standing at the intersection of the road and the ramp with his sign for help. I tried not to make eye contact. I hoped the light would change before he came to the window. The man in front of me was looking straight ahead, but I could not ignore him. I looked at him. He lifted his eyes in hope. I took three dollars out of my wallet and lowered the window. He moved to the car and I extended my hand. His face was downcast. He looked sad and humiliated, but quietly said, "Thank you so much" and moved away from the car.

It reminded me of entering Notre Dame several years ago. The poor woman was sitting at the door with outstretched hands. She caught my eye, but the line was pushing me forward. Once inside, everywhere I looked I saw her face, her hands reaching out for some help. I was so convicted I worked my way back to the entrance, found her and offered her some coins. Her eyes spoke a million French words. I am not fluent, but understood every one.

Why do these scene make me so sad? Why do I often ignore the needy who stand on the corner? I much prefer to participate in a cleaned up service project where the needy are rounded up and brought to me and I can "minister" to them on my turf, leaving when I feel good enough about myself and my effort. I think the single soul demands more of us personally. We have to look them in the eye and say something to them. We have to face the harsh reality of poverty.

The faces out in the cold haunt me this Advent and I wonder if three dollars helps. Or if ten people give three dollars, maybe that buys food for a family - if there is one. I wonder where those faces sleep at night and if they stand and wait with outstretched hands and signs every day - desperate, trying to make it just one more day.

Jesus, the infant who comes this Advent, has some thoughts on this:

 "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."  Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?"     The King will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:35-40

This Advent, see the faces through the eyes of the King.

Small Signs of God - Morning Stillness

  Why is the morning so still? Why is the time between darkness and dawn so very quiet? The night voices begin to quiet themselves and the morning voices , like me, are hesitant to start moving. Stillness.  I open my eyes and leave the warm space to listen and wait. As the first rays of light peek through the trees, the morning noises, one by one, come to life. Another day. Another new morning reminds me of the words from Isaiah, "Morning by morning He wakens - wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught."( Isaiah 50:4)

I have learned the quiet before dawn is what rescues me from the perils of the day. The stillness and quiet waiting are when I hear the voice of God, assuring me that the One who brings his first rays of light to creation is also bringing me a ray of light, a ray of hope, a ray of guidance.  It is the example Jesus gave to his disciples where, "In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went to a deserted place, and there he prayed. (Mark 1:35.) The Christ child teaches us.

I cannot help but wonder about those who miss the quiet before the dawn. Admittedly, sometimes I am one of those, but choosing to miss the lonely, quiet place of silence is dangerous. Henri Nouwen, in his book Out of Solitude says: "Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our lives are in danger. Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, without distance closeness cannot cure. Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become empty gestures."

Where is the place of "somewhere?" The answer lies in my Advent reading for today.

"God wants to open the heart before it opens itself to the world; before the ear hears the innumerable voices of the day, the early hours are the time to hear the voice of the Creator and Redeemer. God made the stillness of the early morning for himself." (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is In the Manger)

Open my heart, God, to your day and let me always show up as you wait for me in the stillness of the early morning.