Making a straight path for Christmas --Some thoughts on Matthew 3:1-9

“Make straight his paths…” Matthew 3:3

 

One of my Advent dreams this year was to be more reflective, spend some time each day in prayer: read the Advent readings from the missal and maybe write a few reflections about them.  But here it is the third Sunday and I have yet to begin.  Instead, I feel like an arctic explorer, forging my way through—just hoping to reach Christmas in one piece.  Along with that, there’ve been leaky pipes, torn out walls, and a couple of big plastic tarps in the kitchen as part of our holiday decoration theme this year.

 

But, it is never too late to make like Fred and Ginger, to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again.  So, this morning, with a little time on my hand, waiting for the sheet-rock guy to come, I am going to reflect on last Sunday’s Gospel reading: Matthew 3:1-9.

It begins:

 

“John the Baptist appeared, preaching in the desert of Judea
and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!"
It was of him that the prophet Isaiah had spoken when he said:
A voice of one crying out in the desert,
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
John wore clothing made of camel's hair
and had a leather belt around his waist.
His food was locusts and wild honey.”

 

And like always, my first thought is of those locusts.  How did he eat them?  Did he cook them? Raw? Live…?  And what about all that honey? Didn’t it get in his beard, his hair? Think about it… Sticky fingers, camel hair, and all that desert sand?  Just the hygiene issues overwhelm me. 

 

But then I looked back at the reading and found myself caught by those simple directions. “Make straight his paths…” And immediately I thought, Yes!  That’s what I need to do. I need to make a straight path.  That could be my Advent practice.  I need to put God first, focus my attention and start… Wait, a minute.

Suddenly I noticed how quiet the house was and looked at the clock.  It was barely 5am... You know what? Now would be a great time to throw together a batch of molasses spice walnut muffins. In fact, I could contemplate the Gospel while mixing them up and once they’re in the oven, I’ll be ready to start writing.  Perfect. I have a plan!  But plane are not my strong suit.

 

As soon as the muffins were in the oven (and that is not a euphemism), I realized: if I don’t clean up my dishes, the cats will get into them, maybe break something. So, instead of writing, I picked up my bowl and measuring cups, and figured I could contemplate a little longer while washing dishes. No problem. I’m still on track. But, wait. The sink already has dishes in it.  No problem, I can wash those too. More time to contemplate and then --writing!  But before I can run a sink full of water, I’m going to need to clear out these dishes and scrub the sink! And so, I get out the Barkeeper’s Friend and a sponge and start scrubbing the sink—which could be a euphemism—but isn’t this time.  Anyway, there I was scrubbing the sink, trying to ponder what Isaiah and John meant when they said: Make a straight path.  Was it just to make travel easier? Whose travel. The Lord’s… But the Lord doesn’t need a straight path. Right? He’s God… So, who are we straightening the path for? And again I thought: I could write about that! But just then, a cat started crying in the hallway.  He’s going to wake everyone and then my quiet time will be gone! I hurry down the hallway and find a cat standing in the bathtub. Waiting for me to turn on the water, so he can lap the drips falling from the spout. I do it, and make a straight path right back to my pen and notebook, but by now my coffee is cold. And the oven timer is going off. I get the muffins out and set them on a rack to cool, but then another cat starts fussing. She wants food.  I reach for a can, and another cat wanders up.  If I don’t feed them, they will jump up on the counter and start messing with my muffins (again, not a euphemism).  And suddenly I realized: I am living a kind of parable. And this straight path advice suddenly feels very personal.  And I know—I am terrible at this kind of thing. But I am going to try. I am going to recommit myself (again—not a euphemism) and make the time, make the effort, straighten out the pathway—clear away the obstacles and the distractions—so I can be more fully present to the Love that is always there waiting for me in God’s word.The straight path isn't for God, it is to God.  I need to get my priorities set straight. That is what I need this Advent... I need to make straight the path of my priorities, so I can know what I truly value.  Clearly, when I want some muffins, I make a straight path to the kitchen, and when I want the cats to settle down, I make a straight path to the cat-food bowls... Let me at least treat my relationship with God with the same commitment, the same intentionality, the same desire and desperation as I do a yowling cat!  And maybe that is a euphemism, of  sort. 

 

Remember Lot's Wife--This Thanksgiving Remember Not to become a Pillar of Salt

“Remember Lot’s wife.”

--Luke 17:32

 

When I come upon a scripture verse cited in a different context (a novel, a poem, a movie, etc), most of the time I just accept it at face value.  I trust the author is using it sincerely and appropriately.  This morning, however, as I was reading a papal encyclical about love (“God is Love” by Benedict XVI) I came upon this quotation from Luke:

“Whosoever seeks to save his life

will lose it, and whosoever loses

his life shall preserve it.” (17:33)

 And for some reason, I almost immediately got out my Bible to look it up—as if fact checking the Pope!  But still, I went to my Bible and found the chapter and the verse and had a strange kind of epiphany, an “Ah, ha! moment,” as the wonderful Dr. Joy Linsley (UST) used to call them. The verse just before these words is the call to remember Lot’s wife, and I wondered: How had I never noticed that before? 

 Yet here I am on a rainy Saturday morning in November, curious about God and Love and so many other things, and I can’t stop thinking about that iconic pillar of salt and trying to connect it to the idea of seeking to preserve one’s own life…  How are those two things connected?  And why is that the one sure way of losing everything.

“Remember Lot’s wife.

“Whosoever seeks to save his life

will lose it, and whosoever loses

his life shall preserve it.” (17:32-33)

 I don’t have an answer, but I have an image.  Contemplating this passage, I was struck by the image of a woman turned not into a literal pillar of salt, but into an embittered soul, someone who seems to bring a dark cloud with them wherever they go, sowing discord, creating distress, or simply bursting bubbles with every sharp comment or piece of unwanted “advice.”  And I am wondering if the real lesson of Lot’s wife wasn’t simply that she looked back, but that she wouldn’t stop looking back?   

Before this morning, I’d always thought of Lot’s wife as a kind of Jewish version of Pandora.  But, instead of opening a box, she couldn’t resist the temptation to look back. But now I am picturing her sitting at the Thanksgiving table with Lot and the family, complaining about the turkey—too dry, too small—and the stuffing—not enough sage. The green beans needed more dried onion, and the Jello mold wasn’t quite moldy enough… The world, seen through those eyes, never quite measures up, is never as good as it used to be, as she remembered… something is always wrong, something always needs correcting.  It was always better before, in the old days, back in Sodom and Gomorrah! 

You see, in the ancient world, what was salt used for? Flavor and as a preservative. The pillar of salt that I see now, isn't a stone like figure, but an embittered person who refuses to let go of the past, who uses her salt to preserve old memories, old arguments, old slights and wounds are kept alive in this pillar of salt. Remember Lot's wife, makes me now think of someone who refuses to move forward, but instead constantly recalls how things were and especially how they were better....

Thinking about this, I realize, I don’t want to be a pillar of salt. I don’t want to be someone who brings a dark cloud of judgment and bitterness.  I want to be a life-giving stream of living water, a source of joy and refreshment. I want to open doors for others to find their way, their memories, their traditions, and their new paths.

 And so this Thanksgiving, while celebrating family and tradition, I want to make room for something new, be open to the gifts and graces of the moment, and each and every person I meet.  Listen with an open ear and heart, let others (even my family) find in me a chance to shine their light and discover their own gifts, feel not only accepted but loved. I may not agree with every opinion, but I don't always have to express my own. Of course, at our table there will be our traditional To-furkey, along with chestnut dressing, mashed potatoes and gluten free-veggie pot pie, but I will also be open to anything new that comes along.  New side dishes, new desserts... Heck, I might even try some of that new-fangled treat people call: pumpkin pie!  But whatever comes my way, instead of comparing it to the past, or to what I hoped it would be, I will instead be grateful for the gift of family, friends, food on the table, and love in the air.  Whether it’s raining and cold or muggy and warm this Thanksgiving, I want to remember that all may not be as I like, but --in truth-- all is grace.
 

And so, I say: Thank you and God Bless you all.   

And Happy Thanksgiving.