Tuesday - February 11, 2025

LYRICS READING Be born in me, be born in me. Trembling heart, somehow I believe that you chose me. I’ll hold you in the beginning. You will hold me in the end. Every moment in the middle make my heart your Bethlehem. Be born in me. Sung by Francesca Batistelli https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eimaffzsLk WORDS OF HOPE It’s been a season of waiting, of longing, of calling out for Emmanuel to come—into our world, into our lives. And Francesca Batistelli’s beautifully rendered song, a contemporary imagining into Mary’s heart-cry as she awaits the birth of Jesus, provides a resonant reflection for this Christmas Day. In the first stanza of the song, Mary acknowledges her desire for order, but thrown into confusion about the encounter with Gabriel, her anxiety and uncertainty about her worthiness surface. But this is not a process of logic where she weighs pros and cons. No, before her “head agrees,” her “heart is on its knees” in awe and humility and she feels the sacred blessing: “Holy is he, blessed am I.” With “trembling heart,” “somehow” she believes she was chosen, and by the ending of the song, her surrender is complete. Centuries ago, the German mystic and philosopher Meister Eckhart boldly asserted that the nativity means little if Christ is not born in us in our time and culture. We are meant to be the mothers of God, a God who always needs to be born. So we, like Mary, pray, “Be born in me, be born in me”--sometimes from a place of pure joy, sometimes in confusion or doubt, or from deep sorrow or desperation at the state of our world. To become a Christ-bearer is to know an expansion of the heart, to become an embodiment of a love that risks vulnerability, that expands the boundaries of our lives, that “wraps [themself] inside the unexpected so we might know that Love would go that far.” It is a love that journeys to the margins to bring home the excluded and oppressed and is emboldened to seek justice on their behalf. This has always been the story: the Divinity at the center of the universe who so yearns for their creatures that we are conceived and held in love always, with a caring which does not abandon us—even when friends do, or a beloved dies, or troubles come, or evil manifests its ugly face in the world. We have been fashioned in this love, through this love, and for this love. So when we act in and live out this compassion, we become Mary, birthing Jesus over and over. In no way is this about worthiness. God loves us, and there is nothing that can make God love us more and nothing that can make God love us less. This is the good news of the message of Jesus Christ whose birth we celebrate this day. May we all give thanks and praise. Blessed Christmas! PRAYER Divine Love, help us remove any impediments and heal any wounds that would diminish our embodiment of your radiant love. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Dr. Pat Saxon

SCRIPTURE Genesis 21. 1-7 Now the LORD was gracious to Sarah and had said and did for Sarah what had been promised. Sarah became pregnant and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the very time God had promised him. Abraham gave the name Isaac to the son Sarah bore him. When his son Isaac was eight days old, Abraham circumcised him, as God commanded him. Abraham was a hundred years old when his son Isaac was born to him. Sarah said, “God has brought me laughter, and everyone who hears about this will laugh with me.” And she added, “Who would have said to Abraham that Sarah would nurse children? Yet I have borne him a son in his old age.” WORDS OF HOPE On this Christmas Eve, as we anticipate the birth of Christ into the world, today’s scripture reading reminds us of another miracle birth to the two people who were the founders of our faith. Sarah and Abraham had been promised a child for many years and in fact Sarah was about 90 years old when the birth of Isaac finally occurred. Isaac’s name means “Child of Laughter” and Sarah hoped that everyone who ever knew of the story of his birth would share the same kind of joy that she had experienced. These would certainly have been Mary’s wishes as she gazed on that baby in the manger. That manger in which the newborn Jesus lay no longer exists. Long ago, it fell into uncertainty or the weather of time. But spiritually at each Christmas season, it continues to draw us into its presence and offer weary humanity it's redeeming hope. The poet and writer Marty Haugen put it this way: "Holy Child within the manger, long ago yet ever near; Come as Redeemer to every stranger, calm our hope for every fear. Once again, we tell the story how your love was shown. Holy Child within the manger, lead us ever in your way, so that we see in every stranger how you come to us today. In our lives and in our living give us strength to live as you did, so that our hearts may be forgiving and our spirits strong and true." Now in this Christmas season, that welcoming stable manger is found everywhere hearts and lives are open to God's divine embrace. PRAYER I pray that each of us will be richly blessed by the kiss of the Christmas message, and may it invigorate our Christian witness to the world. As we meet others, may we be that shining light first shown to us by the Christ child. Amen DEVOTION AUTHOR Donald (Luke) Day Order of St. Francis and St. Clare

SCRIPTURE  “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.” WORDS OF HOPE During this time of year when we are surrounded by images of elves and reindeer and snowmen and Santa Claus, and, yes, Jesus too (though he hasn’t been born yet), the most important “character” of this Advent season is often overlooked. In fact, this entire time of year for many is just a big blur of red and green amidst a mad rush to Christmas morning. If we want to properly celebrate Christmas, we must first fully participate in this season of Advent, a season of prayer and reflection, of waiting, of recognizing and honoring both the faith and example shown to us in Mary. One of my favorite parts of worshipping in the Anglican tradition is that this passage from Luke, known as the Magnificat or The Song of Mary, is a regular part of the Daily Office of Evening Prayer; it is the canticle said or sung after the first reading every single day. Though I see these words almost daily, they seem to stir my soul more deeply during this Season of Advent. Because the Magnificat is an integral part of the service of Evening Prayer, it has been set to music by many composers, further “magnifying” Mary’s words, words that she spoke to her cousin Elizabeth after the Angel Gabriel announced to Mary that she was the bearer of The Messiah. (If you are looking for some music to help you pray your way through these last few days of Advent, do an internet search for settings of the Magnificat.) “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” If only we could all speak these words with the honesty and commitment with which Mary does. Amidst the fear and uncertainty that came from being told that she, a virgin, was pregnant, Mary was able to sing these words from a place deep in her soul, the manifestation of her profound faith, a faith marked by humility, absolute trust, and awe. She proclaims this faith in the words, “he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.” Mary continues on with words that could be seen as a foreshadowing of The Beatitudes. She proclaims that the proud have been scattered by their thoughts, the mighty have been brought down and the humble exalted, the hungry have been filled and the rich sent away empty. Mary declares these things as one who has seen them firsthand and knows them to be true. She was not only talking to Elizabeth back in the first century; she was also speaking to us. We are one of all those generations to come that “will call me blessed.” As this season of Advent comes to a close and we prepare for Christmas, let us maintain a place in our hearts for Mary. May we welcome the Christ-child not only amidst wrapping paper, lights, and reindeer hoofs, but with the same awe, wonder, and responsibility to care for him as did Mary and Joseph on that night in Bethlehem. A PRAYER Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you, untroubled maiden. You are blessed among women, you who brought forth peace to people and glory to the angels. Blessed too is the fruit of your womb, who by grace made it possible for us to be his heirs. (An adaptation by Matthew Fox of the traditional “Hail Mary.” DEVOTION AUTHOR Kris Baker Order of Saint Francis and St. Clare

SCRIPTURE  Isaiah 33. 17-18 Your eyes will see the king in his beauty and view a land that stretches afar. In your thoughts you will ponder the former terror. WORDS OF HOPE Isaiah’s Prophesy today is an excellent introduction to Christmas week and points to the entry of the coming Messiah. But what about the here and now? At any time in your life, have you asked “Why am I here?” “What’s my purpose?” Or maybe “I’m alive, now what?” I think about these questions constantly. As I look around my house, and anticipate the addition of even more gift items, it’s obvious I have accumulated lots of things, usually souvenirs centered around a happy memory or experience. Lots of keepsakes that have become props to jog my memory for friendship, perhaps vacations, or memories I’ve become too attached to. I have asked myself: do these things serve any purpose? Those are all about yesterday. They don’t offer me any meaningful clue about why I am here today. Why do I keep things? I know there are lots of people who don’t particularly like having stuff; those minimalist folks find happiness in other ways. I appreciate their philosophy. Maybe when I look at my mementos of good times past, I consider the times that relieved me of stress, anxiety, or sadness and I wonder if I lose “the things” will I forget my happy experiences? Our yesterdays can serve our todays and today, as usual, I’m considering my deeper role, my purpose. If I were placed here on Earth to serve anything outside of myself, am I doing this right? It’s hard to say. Living a life less planned and more spontaneous has served me well but has it served others? I’ have looked at an old keepsake now and then, an old Christmas gift, perhaps with a little silent prayer of thanks in mind and related an optimistic story about it to a friend. I’m often rewarded with a smile on that friend’s face. We live in a time when too many of us wear despair on our faces. A sense of optimism should be high on the “purpose of life list” each of us should carry. A smile is a powerful gift these days. It’s a worthy purpose. I’ve learned that happy stories about old gifts actually can serve an important use, sort of like props with a purpose. Maybe, at least, I’ve discovered one of the reasons I was put here. If that makes you think I know something special, I don’t. And now we’re full circle. I have rediscovered I have no solid answers. I do know, however, that my eyes have seen Isaiah’s “king in his beauty” arrive for quite a few Christmases in my past and that should bring purpose to all our lives. That’s a story of joy worth sharing. PRAYER God, in the great mystery that is life, help us to know how to find our purpose, so that we might be used to create a spark, offer guidance, or give someone a Christmas gift of an optimistic story, or even a simple nod of “I see you.” Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Charlie C. Rose Order of St Francis & St Clare

SCRIPTURE: 2 Samuel 7:18–22 (The Inclusive Bible) “Then David went in and sat before YHWH and said: ‘Who am I, Sovereign YHWH, and what is my family that you have brought me this far? And even this was too small a thing in your eyes, Sovereign YHWH, for you have also spoken about the future of your servant’s house… How great you are—Sovereign YHWH! There is no one like you, and there is no God but you, as we have heard with our own ears.’” WORDS OF HOPE Today is Arabic Language Day, and something in my spirit stirs. I find myself thinking about theGod who refuses to be captured by one culture, one holy book, one tradition, or one familiar tongue. I think of David sitting before YHWH, stunned that the God of all creation would speak to someone like him. And I realize: God never stopped surprising us. God never stopped speaking in ways bigger than our expectations. Jesus spoke Aramaic, the cousin of Arabic—two languages shaped by the same desert winds, shared roots, shared rhythms. When Jesus preached, comforted, healed, and blessed people, he did so in a Semitic tongue full of poetry and ancient beauty. His voice would not have sounded like a Shakespearean monologue; it would have sounded like the language of fishermen, farmers, mothers, laborers, travelers, and the poor. A human language for a human God. That truth comforts me deeply: God speaks in the languages of the people, not the languages of empire. And God is still speaking—through Arabic, Hebrew, English, Navajo, Yoruba, Hindi, Mandarin,and the thousands of living languages carried in human breath. God speaks through texts like the Qur’an, the Bhagavad Gita, the Torah, the Gospels, Indigenous stories, Buddhist sutras, and the wisdom passed from grandmother to grandchild. God speaks through all who bear the Divine image—queer voices, trans voices, immigrant voices, refugee voices, disabled voices, child voices, tired voices, joyful voices, and voices that tremble but speak anyway. And then there is Arabic itself—a language I find breathtaking. Something about its script, theway the letters swirl like rivers and the vowels glide like silk, moves me. Its poetry feels ancientand alive. When I listen to Middle Eastern or Arabic music, it transports me. I feel like the veilbetween worlds thins, and suddenly I am standing somewhere holy—somewhere older, deeper,and wider than anything I can describe. And then there is the Adhan, the Islamic call to prayer. Driving to work in Plano, Texas, sometimes I get lucky. Sometimes, if the timing is just right, I hear the Adhan rising from the Plano masjid. I slow down—not just the car, but my soul. I watch people walking toward worship, shoulders relaxed, steps steady, their hearts set toward God. The masjid’s architecture glows softly in the morning light—curved, calm, dignified, beautiful. I am not Muslim. And yet I love hearing the Adhan. It reminds me that somewhere, right now, someone is stopping everything to pray. To breathe. To remember who they are and who God is. It grieves me that Western culture has trained so many to fear what is unfamiliar—labeling Arabic, Islam, and Muslim communities as “dangerous” or “evil.” That lie feeds xenophobia andIslamophobia. It harms real people. It blinds us to beauty. Because when I hear the Adhan, I don’t hear danger. I hear mercy. I hear peace. I hear a reminder that Christians desperately need our own call to prayer—a call that interrupts noise, ego, and fear, and summons us back to God. And as a Christian and an LGBTQIA+ ally, I know I am called to be a bridge. Not a perfect one. Not a heroic one. But a faithful one. A bridge between Christians and Muslims. A bridge between queer people and churches that have yet to fully love them. A bridge between those who fear difference and those who embody it. A bridge between God and God’s beloved children. Being a bridge means listening when others dismiss. Honoring what others fear. Standing with Muslim neighbors, queer neighbors, trans neighbors, immigrant neighbors, and anyone whose truth is misunderstood or despised. Because the God who speaks through Arabic also speaks through: • Hindu mantras naming Ishvara, the indwelling Divine • Buddhist chants calling on Amitabha, the boundless compassion • Sikh prayers proclaiming Ik Onkar — God is One • Indigenous songs honoring Creator and Great Spirit • Church bells echoing across city streets • Queer and trans voices claiming holy dignity • Protest chants crying out for justice and liberation • Refugee stories filled with courage and heartbreak Oceans breathing, forests singing, mountains humming their silent praise God is still speaking—through languages we understand, languages we fear, and languages we have yet to hear. God speaks through every culture, every people, every prayer, every cry for justice, every breath of hope. Arabic Language Day reminds me that God’s voice is far more expansive, more colorful, more multilingual, and more surprising than anything our narrow worldviews can contain. God invites us into a Kin-dom where every language, every identity, every faith, every person belongs. SHORT PRAYER God of all Names— YHWH, Allah, Adonai, Elohim, El Shaddai, Ishvara, Dharmakaya, Great Spirit—Open my ears to hear You everywhere. Teach me to honor Arabic and the beauty it carries. Teach me to hear Your call in the Adhan, in bells, in chants, and in silence. Make me a bridge of compassion, justice, and understanding—especially for Muslim, queer, trans, and immigrant neighbors. Calm my assumptions, soften my fears, expand my love. Lead me into Your Kin-dom of radical welcome, courageous faith, and holy diversity. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Reed Kirkman