Weakness in the Christmas Story

Last Christmas, after spending a good deal of time in the academic world, I was struck with the portion of the Christmas story involving the wise men. I connected with the fact that God appeared to the learned and the wise and that He calls us to love him with our minds --not ignore them in the name of "faith".

In stark contrast, this year I am captured by the underlying theme of weakness that we find woven throughout the narrative of the incarnation. If I were to freeze-frame scenes in which I find weakness in the Christmas story, I would highlight the following characters at distinct points as this drama unfolds:

Elizabeth - barren, old, frail; ostracized for her empty womb...

Zachariah - an honorable priest; struck mute, unable to communicate in spoken word due to his lack of faith...

Shepherds - humble men of humble means; scared shitless in their fields at the sudden the appearance of angels...

Mary - a very pregnant, young, working class girl; riding on a donkey as her contractions begin...

Joseph - a new husband, a carpenter with rough hands; suddenly forced to play "midwife" in a stable...

Jesus - a helpless little baby wrapped in rags; sucking at his mother's breast...

Indeed, baby Jesus is the epitome of weakness. (Though, admittedly, the question "How much heaven and how much earth were in this baby at his birth?" has been widely debated.)

This year I relate to weakness, and I am grateful beyond belief for these scenes that call to me from the Christmas story. I take comfort in these scenes because there is, I believe, a paradoxical strength to be found in and through weakness -- even if we can't see it at the time. Weak, dependant, helpless little baby Jesus gets me. Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting father, Prince of Peace became weak. He gives me strength; He makes me strong.

[Jesus], being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be grasped,

but made himself nothing,
taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

- Phil. 2:6-11

awayinafrica

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Hope to see you there!

Dumpster Diving with Dee

It's really amazing (and quite disheartening) to think about all of the food that we throw away in our society while so many are in need... With this in mind, I've joined the ranks of dumpster divers! My friend Dee and I had fun staking out a certain restaurant chain that is known for its bread. Every night P______ throws away bags of bagels, loaves, pastries etc. that have not sold. There's nothing else in these bags (no trash) -- just bread items. Dee and I retrieved 4 huge fresh-tossed bags. We organized the bread items into Ziplock freezer bags, filled the freezer and shared with our friends. Yum!

Yes!

Last Sunday I had the pleasure of celebrating with several friends from Common Table as they were baptized. This prayer, from Walter Brueggermann, really struck a chord in my heart:

Yes

Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth

You are the God who is simple, direct, clear with us and for us.
You have committed yourself to us.
You have said yes to us in creation
yes to us in birth,
yes to us in baptism,
yes to us in our awakening this day.

But we are of another kind,
more accustomed to "perhaps, maybe, we'll see,"
left in wonderment and ambiguity.

We live our lives not back to your yes,
but out of our endless "perhaps."

So we pray for your mercy this day that we may live yes back to you,
yes with our time,
yes with our money,
yes with our sexuality,
yes with our strength and with our weakness,
yes to our neighbor,
yes and no longer "perhaps."

In the name of your enfleshed yes to us,
even Jesus who is our yes into your future. Amen.

Walter Brueggemann, from Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth: Prayers of Walter Brueggemann

Ghetto Rite Aid

I went to the ghetto Rite Aid drugstore in Arlington this morning. Outside, the building was a bit run down and a few shabbily dressed Hispanic immigrants hung around; inside an imposing figure wearing a badge marked “security” stood in the corner with his arms folded across his chest and a stern face that wouldn’t crack a smile. After returning my item, I left and got into my car to drive away. As I exited the parking lot, I noticed a number of Hispanic men standing around, sitting on crates, waiting for someone to come by and offer them cheap, under the table, day labor. I drove on, feeling uncertain and unable to offer any meaningful help. A few hundred yards away I noticed a church with a huge sign posted in its front yard broadcasting “English Lessons” at a certain time each week. This, I think, is what the gospel is all about. This, I think, is the kind of church activity at which Jesus must smile.

“ The Spirit of the LORD is upon Me, because He has anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to proclaim the acceptable year of the LORD."

-Jesus, Luke 4:16-22

Perhaps I should go to the ghetto Rite Aid more often.

My Latest Adventures

tireswing
Originally uploaded by awayindc

I’m loving this opportunity to live with my friends in N. VA. I feel like it’s preparing me for a smoother transition into life in Tanzania (where I’ll be living in a village and will spend much of my time with children and families).

A few days ago I took the kids to the library. I can understand why Dee likes to keep these trips as short as possible. 8 Library books, 2 videos and multiple reminders to “use our inside voices” later, we piled back into the Doan's classic soccer mom minivan and headed to Starbucks for a “surprise”. I had a blast showing off these adorable kids! The boys enjoyed “blueberry milkshakes” for a few minutes before Keenan loudly announced our departure, yelling “Bye! Bye!” to anyone who cared to listen.

Starbucks treats in hand (I rewarded myself for a successful library trip with a cup of coffee,) we headed to Office Depot to make a few quick purchases. We didn’t make it to the checkout before Ethan started doing his “I have to pee” dance (translation: “I have to pee NOW”). My first response was to silently wonder why he couldn’t have decided he needed to pee a few minutes earlier, when we were at Starbucks and had easy bathroom access. No matter. I dropped my shopping basket and flagged down an attendant to ask where we might be able to take care of this bathroom emergency. Thankfully, relief was to be found at the back of the store. As I guided Ethan along, Keenan seemed to be enjoying life at his own pace – he dawdled along behind us, blueberry milkshake held in both hands, clunking with each step in the yellow rain boots that he insists on wearing all the time. What a scene! We made it to the bathroom in time. Great success. :)

After taking care of our bathroom emergency, we reclaimed our basket of goods and headed to the check out. By this time the blueberry milkshakes were finished and the boys were getting finicky. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long in line. As we headed out the door, Keenan once again loudly announced our departure, yelling “Bye! Bye!” to anyone who cared to listen.

We headed home. Two minutes after walking in the door, I found myself sub-consciously humming one of the kids’ songs we were listening to in the van as we traveled. I didn’t realize this until Dee remarked, “Catchy, isn’t it?” Yeah....I guess so. Two days later I still find myself humming the tune.

When we returned, I couldn’t help laughing as I recounted details of our afternoon excursion to Sam and Dee. These are my adventures of late. I’m loving it!

Mr. Iditarod

“So, you’re going to Africa. What are you going to do?”
The question seemed simple enough. “Education - I’m going to teach,” I replied. “What are you going to do?” the older man sitting across the table from me questioned again. “I’m going to teach kids in villages,” I responded, hoping this time my explanation would make sense. No such luck. He threw the question at me once more, this time with greater force. “No, what are you going to do?” By this point I was starting to get a little frustrated, as were some of the other residents sitting around the dinner table at Crossroads House. I had joined my friends from the Intervarsity Graduate Group at UNH to serve a meal at Crossroads, a transitional homeless shelter in Portsmouth, NH. As I sat down and chatted with the residents over dinner, Mr. Iditarod (I call him that b/c he was wearing a teal blue Alaska Iditarod t-shirt and he never offered his name) seemed to enjoy questioning and challenging me.

I responded to his question a third time, offering more details, hoping this seemingly educated man would be satisfied with my response: “Education – I’m going to teach in outskirts villages in Tanzania with an organization called Village Schools International.” One of the residents sitting next to him piped in “She’s going to do general education,” trying to help me out by offering Mr. Iditarod her own explanation of my response.

“No. You’re not going to teach,” he asserted with an air of authority, “You’re going to learn.” This brisk, 65 year old, salt and pepper bearded, dogmatic man continued, “Too many people go over to Africa to teach – thinking they know it all...they don’t know anything. You’re going to learn.” I wasn’t sure how to respond. I expressed some words of agreement that didn’t appease his need to expound. Mr. Iditarod proceeded to tell me – and everyone else at the dinner table who cared to listen – that I was young and naive, and an idealist. And he’s right. He’s right about a lot of things.

If 25 is young, Mr. Iditarod is right.
If being a naive idealist means, as my friend Ken says, “believing/doing the impossible in spite of ourselves,” Mr. Iditarod is right.
If teaching in Africa is more about learning (and I would argue that it is), Mr. Iditarod is right.

"If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time,

but if you come because your liberation is bound up with mine,

then let us work together."
- Lilla Watson, Aboriginal Educator and Activist, Brisbane