By night, soothed by darkness those for whom visibility is treacherous stretch out their palms to God who clouds the stars. The waters of creation still bring life from beyond the hills, the hopeful distance Psalm 121

Grant that we, putting away all earthly anxieties, may be duly prepared for the service of thy sanctuary;  we, reaching forth our hands in love.

The trees are running on empty,defenseless, exposed to the faceless elements, burned by the cold and starved by the desiccated air, yet they stand and sway as though they listenedto the songs of the land humming through their roots, branches snapping to the beat. Above the frozen river, robins filled their branches, mud-red feathers harbouring heat, gripping the tree limbs as though they would lift them up, piercing the soft bark with hope.

Isaiah 42:1-9, Matthew 3:13-17 Jesus’ ministry is bookmarked by humility. From his humble birth and early childhood as a child of refugees, seeking asylum in a foreign land. And here, coming to John for baptism, the Lord of all has no need to lord it over anyone. There is no pomp, pride, parading. The only display of power is that of the Holy Spirit, descending upon him like a dove, and the voice from heaven falling down like thunder: this is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.

I was busy. It wasn’t until late in the day that I finally sat down to prepare a prayer for our meeting. I found one, a good one, except for one word that rang untrue. Do we need to be forgiven the blindness that keeps us from seeing? Or healed of it? Is blindness often chosen? I understood the sentiment behind the phrase, but chose to substitute “lenses”.

That was the vision in which Joseph placed his faith and his family: that God is with us, God’s promises endure forever. It didn’t make life easier, by any means. God knows it didn’t remove the obstacles of grief and the graft and grimness of the world or the wilderness, its empires, its wars, its little kings. But what it did mean is that he, Joseph, spent the rest of his days in the close and intimate presence of the love of God among us, Jesus.

By the time you reached the star-struck place  you were ready to crawl in on bended knees  and babble your praises like a newborn;  for the foolishness of God's incarnation  was wiser than you or I ever could imagine.

This is the message of Christmas, isn’t it – not so much the drawing in and closing down, the drawing of the curtains against the dark and cold, as it is the opening up; the labour of effacing little by little the things that come between us and keep us from seeing the glory of God incarnate in our neighbours, from realizing the strength and endurance of God’s love, the capacity and tenacity of God’s mercy. When the very heavens are opened for angels to sing to shepherds on the earth, how can we be short of room for one another, friend and stranger, lover and lost, family and fallen alike?

When the night is longest, stretching deep and dark beyond our sight, light a candle; see its flame flicker as the breath of God inhales our prayers, sighs out a shimmer of hope.

A flood of memories of the oblivion before the void contracted into creation, gravity from below and brooding holiness bearing down together until there was light; in the darkness of that night it...

It is not as simple as the poet makes it sound to transform the form of metal, a sword into farm equipment. Just hit it with a hammer, the prophecy implies, and all will fall, seeds into their furrows and nations in obeisance to the Prince of Peace. Yet rumours of the spoils of war echo in the ears of rulers,

And then, imagine it from her point of view: seven lifetimes of love, regret, loss, laughter. Seven lifetimes of abuse - pray not. Seven lifetimes of blessing, despite the woes, hope despite it all. Seven lifetimes and here, in eternity, she was no one's to own: the richest woman with lifetimes to spare in a sky-blue heaven, the angels attendants, …

Be the blessing that will bring us closer to the kingdom of God that Mary and Hannah sang of. Do the good in this moment, at this time and in this place, that will let others know the enduring love of God, who feeds us on bread and wine. Listen, heed the warnings that Jesus offers to those who think that they are untouched by the needs of others. Love God, love your neighbour, change their world, change our world.

It took so long to get the fire lit, even though the wind blew as though the Holy Spirit fanned the flames of Pentecost herself. The children in their costumes came and went without judgement, candy-sweet. When the tinder finally caught, I sought bric-à-brac of twigs from across the neighbour's yard to keep it fed. Consider, I thought, the fires of heaven, and us poor fuel, damp and easily consumed, yet within each the spark of holiness.

There’s a deep irony to this parable, that whenever we read it, we are tempted, aren’t we, to mutter, “Thank God I’m not like that Pharisee!” …

You’ve heard it said that prayer is not about changing God, but about changing us. That, I think, is what this parable and these teachings are about. God is not slow to love every piece and person of creation; so let’s pray persistently and consistently and robustly and resiliently until we are changed into God’s likeness, and enabled and equipped and encouraged to act in God’s image and will, and in solidarity with those crying out to God for the justice that is mercy.

The salvation of the world is not in our hands, but the promise of prayer is. And while the peace of God passes our understanding, it is at hand. It is found in the smallest act of love, a little flower growing between the cracks of a fractured and fractious world, persistent in its beauty, brave in its beauty, and unstoppable in its reach toward the sun.

BANI, a framework developed by Jamais Cascio, stands for Brittle, Anxious, Nonlinear, and Incomprehensible. For people of faith, there is one reliable place to turn ​when human understanding no longer works. Hence this prayer for a BANI world.

Jealousy is the thief of joy. It keeps the elder brother from the family reunion. It prevents the citizen from celebrating the rescue of the refugee, the wealthy from celebrating Jesus’ announcement of good news for the poor and the meek. It resents the love of God for its rival, and leads to the casting of golden calves to spite them all. It clouds the vision of the scribes so that they do not even recognize the Word of God when he is standing right in front of them, telling stories from heaven.

As though created in mid-airand surprised, the lamb fellwithout foothold down the cliffand into the stream where we,speechless, sandwiches halfwayto open mouths watched itpick up and shake itself backto life , quiet waters clinging to wool,green pastures calling, it ran onas though pursuedby all the hounds of heaven.

Hatred shared is never hatred halved. The blood of an enemy will not cure anaemia of conscience. Suffer the little children never meant to sacrifice them. The mortality of another will never lessen our own. The immortality of another will never lessen our own.