Kindred in Christ,

As we enter the fourth and final week of Advent, I am reminded of how easily it is to miss the coming of God in our world. In fact, I find that the four weeks only begin to prepare our hearts and minds for what the manger means today.

One of the things that I love about the depiction above, by Everett Patterson, titled José y Maria, is that the more time you spend looking at it, the more you’ll notice. Drawn in literary comic-book style, in shades of purple, lavender and gray, it depicts a gritty street scene with a poor young Latine couple standing on a sidewalk in front of a convenience store at night. The man has a public telephone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He looks worried. His wife rests at his side, resting by sitting sideways on a child’s mechanical pony ride. She holds a hand over her very pregnant abdomen. She looks worried too, and tired.

Are you starting to see the picture? The artist loads it with evocative hints: The woman’s hoodie reads “Nazareth High School.” A sign in the store window, advertising Starr Beer, bears a blue neon star. A poster calls out “Good News.” Around the corner, a lighted sign for Dave’s City Motel reads “NO VACANCY.” And my favorite, in a crack in the sidewalk a hopeful green shoot has sprouted between the man and woman. What other hints do you see?

Join us this Sunday, as we conclude our Advent series, Shadow and Light, and explore further what it means to see the coming of Christ in our world.

Rev. Paul Ortiz

Kindred in Christ,

The above image is a depiction of Mary visiting her cousin Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-45) by Rev. Lauren Wright Pittman. After saying, “Let it be,” both women find themselves in a place they never thought possible. Mary assumed she could not become pregnant because she was a virgin, and Elizabeth assumed she could not become pregnant because she was too old. What assumptions do you carry with you this season?

When we assume we know what we will get for Christmas, it often robs the joy of opening the gift.  Likewise, the joy of our spiritual journey comes when we are open to being surprised by God. For our assumptions of how God works, who is in and who is out, and how things will end, often hinder us in all kinds of ways. Yet the antidote to assumption is always surprise!

Join us as we continue our Advent series Shadow and Light and reflect further upon the surprise of Christ’s incarnation in Mary and in us today. See you on Facebook Live!

Rev. Paul Ortiz

Kindred in Christ,

The season of Advent (the four weeks leading up to Christmas) invites us to consider something quite countercultural—the darkness is our friend. While well-lit spaces (literally and metaphorically) grant us a sense of security and control, Advent insists that there is beauty in the shadowy and unresolved experiences of our lives. Each week in Advent we only get to light one additional candle, a reminder that we must trust God as we move forward not seeing the full picture at first.

The above modern icon by Scott Ericson depicts The Annunciation to Mary by the Angle Gabriel (Luke 1:26-38). My favorite aspect of Ericson’s interpretation is the upside-down messenger, inviting Mary into an upside-down way of looking at the world.

Join us this Sunday as we continue our Advent Series, Shadow and Light!  And in the meantime, I invite you to meditate on the following Advent prayer:

Advent in the Dark (full version here)

We wait in the darkness,

expectantly, longingly, anxiously, thoughtfully.

The darkness is our friend.

In the darkness of the womb,

we have all been nurtured and protected.

In the darkness of the womb

the Christ-child was made ready for the journey into light.

It is only in the darkness

that we can see the splendor of the universe –

blankets of stars, the solitary glowings of the planets

…

Sometimes in the solitude of the darkness

our fears and concerns, our hopes, and visions

rise to the surface.

We come face to face with ourselves

and with the road that lies ahead of us.

And in that same darkness

we find companionship for the journey.

In that same darkness

we sometimes allow ourselves to wonder and worry

whether the human race is going to survive.

And then, in the darkness

we know that you are with us, O God,

yet still we await your coming.

In the darkness that contains both our hopelessness and our hope,

we watch for a sign of God’s hope.

For you are with us, O God,

in darkness and in light.

Rev. Paul Ortiz

Kindred in Christ,

I love the holidays. I’m always up for a good celebration. And, like many children the crème de la crème for me growing up was always Christmas! Yet, as I became a young adult, I found myself increasingly disillusioned with the whole ordeal. While I still appreciated the lights, songs, sweets, and time with family, I began to find the holiday to be marked by consumerism, stress, and hurriedness. And then I discovered Advent!

The season of Advent, which begins this Sunday and leads up until Christmas is all about slowing down, and opening ourselves up to the mystery of Christ’s arrival in our world. Advent means “coming” in Latin, and these weeks are meant to prepare our hearts, minds, and souls for the arrival of God-with-us, Jesus Christ, born of Mary a couple of millennia ago. You’re supposed to feel the darkness of the wait—the anticipated arrival of something you want so badly but cannot see yet—and by feeling the wait deeply, you’ll be even more satisfied by the celebration of the arrival on Christmas Day.

Advent helped me rekindle my love and appreciation for Christmas but on a much deeper level. It helped me to realize that I need both darkness and light, knowing and unknowing, mystery and revelation in my spiritual life. I hope you will join us for our Advent worship series on shadow and light. It begins this Sunday on Facebook Live.

In the meantime, I want to share with you one of my favorite Advent prayers by Janet Morley. May it bless you during this season of both darkness and light.

For the darkness of waiting

of not knowing what is to come

of staying ready and quiet and attentive,

we praise you, O God:

For the darkness and the light

are both alike to you.

For the darkness of choosing

when you give us the moment

to speak, and act, and change,

and we cannot know what we have set in motion

but we still have to take the risk,

we praise you, O God:

For the darkness and the light

are both alike to you.

For the darkness of hoping

in a world which longs for you,

for the wrestling and laboring of all creation

for wholeness and justice and freedom,

we praise you, O God:

For the darkness and the light

are both alike to you.

Rev. Paul Ortiz

Kindred in Christ,

During my time in seminary, I took a class on the book of Revelation by New Testament scholar, Dr. Osvaldo Vena. I grew up in a stream of the church that painstakingly tried to take this biblical text literally, and would often link its passages to end time predictions that they believed where unfolding on the evening news. One of the first things I learned from Dr. Vena is that the majority of the book is meant to be symbolic for it is written in the apocalyptic genre, known to depict fantastical beasts (like dragons and other characters common to Harry Potter) and cataclysmic scenarios in order to critique empire and help people imagine the coming of a better world. Along with being a brilliant scholar, Dr. Vena was also a musician. On our final session, he brought his guitar and led us in the popular 70s song, Imagine by John Lennon. While this song initially angered many Christians because of its lyrics inviting us to “imagine there’s no heaven,” Dr. Vena pointed out that John of Patmos (the author of Revelation) invites us to be dreamers of a similar world—one where heaven comes down to earth and there is no more injustice, divisions, and war (Revelation 21). Join us this Sunday as we conclude our series Dream Big, and explore further the kind of dreamers God may be calling us to be in our present time. I hope to see you in the comments on Facebook Live!

Rev. Paul Ortiz