I got up early today to take the dog for a walk. She needs at least two solid hours of exercise a day. We can carve out about ninety minutes in the morning of we are careful. Earliest is best. That way we get ahead of the casual dog walkers; the ones to get tired quickly and let their pets off to roam and poop in the woods. With a puppy--or any energetic dog--it is good to be away from the folks who flaunt the leash laws. It is no fun negotiating an encounter with another dog whose owner's only aid is to say things like, "I don't know what has gotten into her..." Anyway, it was raining a bit today, which also kept the numbers down. It is good for the dog to get comfortable with the wet weather. It is also nice to be able to grab some silent moments in this cluster of trees surrounded by suburbia. The second day in Advent, it turns out, started well with a stroll along the Charles. I have written about the Charles River before. In fact, it has its own category. These days we also use the Algonquian name, Quinobequin. By either name it looms large in the literature of the area. The funny thing is that it doesn't really get that big until near the end, when it nears the very end outside Boston. Here in Metrowest it is slow, narrow, and marshy. It is a great place for birds. These days I can hear the geese calling to each other, with their wings pounding and whistling as they are started by a fox or--more likely--someone else's dog on the opposite bank. In any case it is a good way to begin the first Advent workweek of 2023. It still feels like fall and will for a while. Given the state of the environment it may always feel like that now. My family is posting pictures of snow up in Maine but everywhere is warmer and it feels strange. That said, with some effort--and the sacrifice of 30 minutes of sleep--we got some quiet in a chaotic world. The big bang of church is behind us for a time. Now the still small voice. I leave you with this video of our congregation participating in the "Sanctuary Lighting" yesterday morning. Every year we take the readings we will use for Advent, pick six of them to listen for, and then read them together on the first Sunday. Half are biblical and half are not. It was chaotic but we are enjoying ourselves....
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And just like that...here we are.... It is Sunday afternoon and I am sitting on the couch, watching a youtube video of a dog sleeping in front of a fire. The dog looks pretty darn content in their massive bed that features a prominent LL Bean logo, so I can only assume it is an advertisement for dog beds, and LL Bean in general. Thanks algorithm! We got a puppy the day before Thanksgiving Sunday (which is the Sunday before Thanksgiving if you are in church) and I have been looking up vids to help her get settled. The dog on the video is some kind of labrador retriever. The puppy is half-lab. Maybe she will take some lying down lessons... Of course it isn't Thanksgiving anymore. Advent started this very day! I have to say that it took me a bit by surprise this year. We had that extra Sunday--November 26--which our church went ahead and cancelled. However, I didn't rest exactly. There was that puppy,...and work...and the usual drama of life that left me almost completely unaware of the looming crisis of December holidays.
What snapped me out of it was an invitation to a party on December 1. This important date is, of course, the beginning of secular Advent. We mark the first of December by opening the first door on our calendars to get our daily chocolate or scotch, or whatever the person who gives us the calendars chose this year. Anyway, a clergy friend held a party on December 1 to kick things off and I had to bring something. This meant that--between dog walks--I was forced to turn on the Christmas music and make my first fruitcake of the season. This bake included the very last of the cranberry compote from Thanksgiving dinner. The loaf I saved and "tested" for the party was pretty OK. I hope people liked the other one. I don't have much to say about the holiday today. However, I wanted to check in. Advent is one of my favorite times of year and I try to give it the respect it deserves by not lurching directly to Christmas. It is ironic, but being a church person means less Christmas, not more. I like it that way. It keeps everything in its time. That said I have some Advent "gifts" for you. Don't get excited! They are all virtual. Also, it includes the "Yule Dog" which I didn't make and don't really endorse in any meaningful sense. So here is the link to my "fruitcake" recipe. I use it every year and give them away as much as possible. Then I stop when I feel like it. That moment usually arrives before Epiphany. Also, below you will find my "Advent prayer" from this morning. It is really kind of a meditation, but whatever. We had our annual sanctuary lighting today--which involves lots of readings and open flame--then we had communion. The meditation here closed communion, which was fine. So the video of the dog by the fire continues. While I was writing this, the bottom half of a person came in with a classy LL Bean log-carrier, stoked the fire, and returned to pet the dog and drop off their snowy boots. The boots, of course, are those super-ugly-and-uncomfortable "Bean Boots" that were the bane of my childhood. I bet the dog is named after the Chesapeake Bay. I remember lots of "Chessies" growing up. This is the sort of set-up they would like. It kinda makes me wish I had a fireplace...and a scratchy wool blanket...and that it was snowing. OMG! The "dog owner" is back wearing LL Bean slippers and stoking the fire with a bespoke fire poker! This is about as much excitement as I can handle on a Sunday afternoon in the rain. Anyway, here is the prayer. I need to walk my dog, who is named after a mountain in New Hampshire, which is totally different from being named after a bay in Maryland... Advent Prayer 2023 Adam Tierney-Eliot It doesn't start with a star It doesn't start with hallelujahs and amens It starts with stumbling through the dark It starts all too frequently with loss oppression and the rocky road to nothing Then we begin with a moment of desperation on our knees With crying out and wondering if if our cries will be heard at all And then it starts with the hands that lift us up brush us off feed us, even, and walk us into the day We may be too tired to notice these hands but they are there Each caring hand the hand of God and the human hands of human hope We shudder to turn these hands to violence We resist using them for selfish ends Advent does not begin with a star or an angel or a hymn but begins with us in communion with humanity Advent begins as stillness In the chaos and then the stillness grows |
Adam Tierney-EliotI am a full-time pastor in a small, progressive church in Massachusetts. This blog is about the non-church things I do to find spiritual sustenance. Archives
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