Dear Five O' Clock Friends,

First a big "thank you" to all of you who helped bring Live at Five to the 9:00 worshipping community last Sunday.  It was a great celebration of La Virgen de Guadalupe's feast day.  For me, the most moving moment of the morning was at the offertory when the whole congregation brought their roses and layed them at the feet of Guadalupe--the Mother of the Americas bringing us together as one community.  

This Sunday we are treating the whole community of St. Michael's to another celebration--Las Posadas.  We'll gather in the Parish Hall at 5:00 p.m., go from door to door at St. Michael's as we re-enact the journey of Joseph and Mary.  At the end, we'll gather at the altar as we remember in the bread and wine the One who comes to share our lives and to lead us into light.   Afterwards, we'll have a Potluck Supper in the Parish Hall.  There'll be food, pinatas, and lots of laughter.  

As we come to the end of another Advent together, I want to share with you the words of Howard Thurman--mystical theologian and activist pastor--who formed the first multi-racial, inter-denominational congregation in the United States (The Church of the Fellowship of All Peoples).  In Advent, I always turn to Thurman's book The Mood of Christmas and Other Celebrations for my morning meditation time.  Here is the poem I read this morning:

Gifts on My Altar
I place these gifts on my altar this Christmas;
Gifts that are mine, as the years are mine.
The quiet hopes that flood the earnest cargo of my dreams;
The best of all good things for those I love.
A fresh new trust for all whose faith is dim.
The love of life, God's precious gift in reach of all:
Seeing in each day the seeds of the morrow,
Finding in each struggle the strength of renewal,
Seeking in each person the face of my brother.
I place these gifts on my altar this Christmas;
Gifts that are mine, as the  years are mine.

Thank you all for the gift you have been in my life this year.

Susan+

Dear Five O' Clock Friends,

What captures your imagination?  What stories stick with you long after their telling?  What images speak to you in a way far deeper than words can convey?

Today, as the world mourns the death of Nelson Mandela, I am reminded of a story that still speaks to me long after I read it.  The story is the novel The Beloved Country by Alan Paton.  It's the story of two fathers--one black and one white--whose lives collide and converge in a South Africa becoming increasingly more violently divided along lines of race and kin.  What I remember most about this novel I read long ago is not the plot but the story of the author and his banning by his homeland--a banning that tore his heart apart.  Alan Paton, a white man, testified at the trial of Nelson Mandela, and that was part of Paton's undoing. Yet it was not until years later that I even got a glimmer of what that title "Cry, the Beloved Country" really meant.  

Two men together raising their arms in victory--one white, one black.  A transfer of power.  A living out a dream.  The beloved country rising.  Nelson Mandela assuming the office of President of South Africa.  As my mother said at the time, "Who would have thunk it!"

Tomorrow we will hear the words of the prophet Isaiah.  Most often when I read the passage we will hear, my mind races right to the part of the wolf laying down with the lambs.  But before that there's a phrase that sticking in my mind right now--"A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots."  Whenever I read or hear those words from Isaiah, I'm reminded of the redwood forests in Northern California.  There, in those big woods, mighty trees really do grow from roots.  From a felled tree or rotted stump, a little redwood springs up and forms the base of a grand forest that will surely come one day.

Tomorrow, we at Live at Five will join with others from St. Michael's as we worship and serve at St. Martin's.  We've come to expect that on the second Sunday of the even-numbered months there will be a worship service and a meal at St. Martin's Hospitality Center.  Such was not always the case.  Almost four years ago, St. Martin's was forced to suspend Sunday services and service on Sundays.  But a determined group of people--including people from the Diocese of the Rio Grande--would not let go of the dream of serving at St. Martin's.  From that stump, a tree began to grow.  Sundays at St. Martin's.

Tomorrow, we will join in worship and in fellowship with people who know well the truth of the prophet Isaiah.  People who know that shoots do grow from stumps and that branches spring out from decaying roots.  People from St. Martin's and people from St. Michael's.  When worship has ended, when we've finished serving, when the last pot is put away, we'll join at Garcia's on 4th Street just north of Mountain and just behind St. Martin's.  There we'll share stories of branches spring out from the roots of lives.  

See you tomorrow.

Susan+