Christmas

A Video Christmas Card: Christmas to Me

Steve · December 14, 2016 · 16 Comments

Thanks to you all for reading and responding this past year. Here’s a little Christmas greeting for you that asks the important question: What is Christmas to you?

Christmas to Me

Christmas to me, isn’t the lights on the tree
The wrappings and the bows
A reindeer’s glowing nose.
Christmas to me, isn’t so easy to see
In endless games and toys
For little girls and boys.

And no matter where I go
All the trappings and the snow
It just isn’t merry
It just isn’t Christmas
Till I am home again with you.

Christmas to me, echoes the mystery
The sacred holy night
A grace so pure and bright.
Christmas to me, lives in the memory
Of family and friends
A love that never ends.

Words & music by Katie Cooper Nix, Phil Cooper, Steve Givens, and Jim Russell
©2007, Potter’s Mark Music

The MO Bottom Project

John Caravelli, guitar
Phil Cooper, piano
Pat Dillender, drums
Steve Givens, vocals
Gerry Kasper, bass

Christ Has Come, Uninvited

Steve · December 19, 2015 · 17 Comments

girl — In a Nicaraguan Orphanage. SJG Photo.

It’s almost Christmas. It’s the fourth week of advent. And we wait. But for what?

Well, we say, we wait for the birth of Jesus, of course. We wait to welcome him again to the world because, unlike those people in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago, we would make room for him in the “inns” of our hearts. Good answer. But would we?

Actually, perhaps the better question is, “do we?” For certainly the opportunity still awaits us. In his essay, “The Time of the End is the Time of No Room,” Thomas Merton writes:

“Into this world, this demented inn, in which there is absolutely no room for Him at all, Christ has come uninvited. But because He cannot be at home in it, because He is out of place in it, and yet must be in it, His place is with those others for whom there is no room. His place is with those who do not belong, who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak, those who are discredited, who are denied status as persons, who are tortured, bombed, and exterminated. With those for whom there is no room, Christ is present in the world.”

I’m not sure there has been another time in my 55 years that I have felt so much like I was living in a “demented inn.” The world seems wracked in pain — in war, terrorism and every conceivable kind of violence. And yet, Christ comes — has come and continues to come — to us all. Whether we invite him or not, whether we are aware or not, Christ is present. He is not far away, waiting on a high mountain for us to struggle up to him. He is not buried deep in the rubble of history waiting for us to excavate him. Rather, he is standing right beside us, waiting for us to turn toward him.

And when we do that and find him in the comfort of our warm homes, we must be aware of all the others to whom he has come as well. For if Christ lives in us, as we Christians so often claim, then it falls to us to be the sane room in the demented inn, available to others. It is up to us to present Christ to the world, and especially to those who seem to have no room to go to. If Christ’s place is with those who are weak and do not belong, then so is ours.

Chapel wall at Marianist Retreat and Conference Center by Br. Mel Meyer, SM. SJG photo.

For those who do not belong,
For those rejected by power,
For the weak and discredited,
For those denied status as persons,
For the tortured, bombed and exterminated,
For those who have no room,
For the immigrant,
For the victim,
For the persecuted,
For the unjustly accused,
For the ignored,
For those led into lives of violence,
Yes even them,
Christ comes.
Christ is present.
And where am I?

The Creative Spirit: Mary’s ‘Yes’

Steve · December 20, 2014 · 8 Comments

Williamsburg silversmith shop. SJG photo.

Today I begin a new series of reflections about the role of the Spirit and of spirituality in the life of the creative person. Whether you are a professional artistic type, an occasional poet/artist/craftsperson or someone who just thinks that maybe there’s something deep inside them waiting to come out, I hope you’ll find in this series some inspiration that will move you toward recognizing the ideas germinating within you and putting down words and images that will enable you to share them with others. For that’s the role of the artist, to bring ideas to life.

I am up before the sun today, waiting to greet a busy day in these waning days of December, trying to latch on to an early-morning idea that will spur my brain into its creative mode. I’m trying to conceive, looking for a spark of something.

The gospel reading for today is one we all know. We’re only a few days from Christmas here in 2014, but this story from the very beginning of Luke’s gospel finds Mary before her child has even been conceived, confronted by an idea and a voice saying:

“Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid, for you have found favor with God. You will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus.”

And she replies: “Really? I don’t think so. I’m not really prepared for that and, by the way, I’m a virgin, so…thanks anyway.”

But this voice is calm and insistent and is having none of her initial hesitance: “Ah, but this isn’t about you. This is about God in you. It may seem impossible, but nothing is impossible with God.”

And Mary answers with a simple, “yes.”

forge — Smith's shop in Williamsburg. SJG photo.

It’s the beautiful beginning of the story of the Incarnation, and as I read and reflect on it this morning I am reminded that Mary’s “yes” to this conception serves as the perfect model for the creative process, for all of us who sense something moving and growing inside us. I will never conceive and bear a child, and yet I must be willing to accept and nurture the fruits of the Spirit that have been planted deep within me. The creative and artistic process requires a willingness to move beyond “I’m not really equipped for this and don’t yet have all the right experiences” to a simple “yes.”

The incarnation of Christ in the form of a child wrapped in swaddling clothes and born to a virgin is the ultimate metaphor for all who create. It’s unexpected and new. It’s a bit dramatic and filled with poetry and startling images. It’s unbelievable and yet contains the truth. As we sometimes say when astonishing things happen in real life: “You just can’t make this kind of stuff up.”

That the nativity is a great metaphor for the creative process doesn’t make it any less real, and the incarnation (the word becoming flesh) of Christ didn’t stop when Mary gave birth. The incarnation continues in all of us, and it’s a particularly vivid reminder of the responsibility of all who create.

As we arise each day and search for ideas and meaning and insights, as we face empty screens and journals and canvases and sketchbooks, the Word (co-present with God since before the creation of the world) moves around inside us and kicks us like an unborn child aching and yearning to see the light of day. We give birth because of his birth. We create because we have been created.

Speaking of light, it’s starting to fill the world around me. I’ve turned an hour or so of darkness into something new. That’s all God asks of us.

Ask yourself in silence: What’s inside me that’s aching to come out?

Today’s Word: Broken

Steve · December 14, 2014 · 1 Comment

guitar — Looks like an A-minor. Photo by Jon Givens.

It is perhaps a bit cliché to speak of “grasping the moment,” but like all good clichés, there’s some truth and wisdom at the bottom of this one. Especially right now, as we enter the third week of advent, we are reminded that “now” is our time. We may be “waiting” for Christmas, but God and Jesus are here and available to be experienced right now — no waiting required.

And so it goes with the moments that come and go in our lives, waiting to be truly recognized and experienced by us. This is perhaps especially true of the difficult times when we feel lost, broken, abandoned or alone. The Christmas season is a time of joy for many, but for others, it can be a tougher period. As some struggle to get by, as they see what so many others have (and buy, buy, buy…) and as they cope with the memories of those no longer with them, advent can be a time of just waiting for it all to be over. Advent can be a season of sensing our brokenness.

I’m reminded of one of my favorite Christmas stories — the tale of how that most beloved of all Christmas carols came to be written. By some accounts — we can’t be sure of the truth here, however — “Silent Night” was created out of brokenness. The story goes that a young priest, Fr. Joseph Mohr of Oberndorf, Austria, wrote the lyrics to “Stille Nacht” in 1818 and gave it to a friend and local musician, Franz Gruber, asking him to compose a simple melody to be played on guitar, as the organ in St. Nicholas Church was broken. The song was first performed on Christmas Eve and the rest, as they always say, is history. From brokenness springs beauty.

Here’s a simple guitar and voice recording that my daughter Jenny and I made a few years ago:

01 Silent Night

As we near Christmas, we recall both the woundedness of our lives and the joy of the birth of the Christ, who came to bind up our wounds, heal our brokenness and fill the empty spaces. This is the Christ who heals, who forgives, who makes whole. A child in a manger, yes, but more importantly the Word of God set in the midst of us not just 2000 years ago but even today. Especially today. This is ours to grasp, this is our moment to seize. This is heavenly peace for our lives right here.

Ask yourself in silence: Where am I broken? What beauty can spring from it? Where is my peace?

Today’s Word: Exile

Steve · January 1, 2014 · Leave a Comment

Over the past week I’ve read and heard several times now the story in Matthew’s gospel about Joseph and Mary’s exile into Egypt following the birth of Jesus. This is not a story to which we usually pay much attention. It’s a post-Christmas, dark tale about threats of death and the murder of innocent children, and who wants to spend much time thinking about that?

But here’s what I’ve found. There’s a message of hope for us in this story, for we have all experienced exile at one time or another in our lives. Maybe you’re there right now. It could be an exile from God or maybe from a friend or family member. Maybe it’s an exile from yourself, a time of running away from what you think might hurt you. But whatever form it takes, exile can be a time of great spiritual growth if we leave ourselves open to hearing the voice of God in the wilderness. Joseph, a much under-appreciated character in the life of Jesus, is the hero of this story because he was willing to listen for and act upon the voice of God. “Take Mary and Jesus to Egypt, Joseph,” God says. And Joseph does. “Time to come back to Judea,” God says, and Joseph heads back to Israel. “On second thought,” God says, “better go to Galilee,” and Joseph settles his family in Nazareth. Listen. Obey. Act.

This is the call to a life of active contemplation, to a life of listening for the voice of God and actually expecting to hear something. Not a sound, perhaps, but nevertheless a knowing, a sense of God’s presence and direction. It is a life of staying the course and trusting the journey because something tells you it’s right. It’s a life of acting on the still small voice inside of us.

Ask yourself in silence: Am I trusting the journey I am on? Am I even aware of the journey?