This week I am happy that St. Thomas is hosting a week long iconography workshop. The fifteen participants will be spending the week in prayer, learning and writing the icon of Our Lady of the Sign. The Theotokos Oranta, as it is sometimes called, portrays Mary in a praying position with Christ seen in the center of the image, enclosed in her womb. I learned this morning that this icon is called “the Sign” in reference to the words of the prophet Isaiah when he proclaimed,

The Lord himself shall give you a sign. Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel. –Isaiah 7:14

This icon also recalls the fact that because Mary bore Christ in her womb, the creator of all that is, she has become more spacious than the heavens.

Each time I set out to write an icon, something different strikes me as important. It is especially helpful when one has a good teacher who realizes that a workshop like this is primarily about the process of theosis in the Christian life that is merely expressed through the writing of a holy image. This morning I was struck by our teacher’s description of the linen cloth that is glued upon the board that the image is placed. Under the layers of gesso is a cloth that should remind Christians of a shroud or veil. Shrouds remind us of death. Today our teacher reminded us that the Christian are called to always keep death before ourselves as it reminds us to make wise choices. We are also called to be people who are dead to sin, so that we can live more fully in the new life Christ has given to us.

I hope to keep checking in this week as we continue to pray these icons into being, while becoming more true to the image of God contained in each of us.

This Sabbath Sunday I am choosing to share a post from last Christmas centered on the gifts of the magi in honor of the celebration of Epiphany. The post is entitled, Myrrh is mine, it’s bitter perfume….

Once again you are invited to join me in promoting the Sabbath by taking a break from your normal blogging.  Please share an older post from your blog that is near and dear to your heart. Make sure to leave your name and the URL of your post below and share a comment if you so desire. I look forward to reading your recycled posts!

Soon after hearing the reflection, I shared it with a friend who had just experienced a miscarriage and ordered the book by Jenny Schroedel to read. I am still getting around to the book in my never ending to-be-read stack, but the website has been a blessing to me.

You can find a link to Naming the Child in my list of  ”sites to see” and you can listen to Molly’s letter by clicking on the link below.

Letter to Lucy

Herod perceiving that he was deluded by the wise men, was exceeding angry; and sending killed all the male children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the borders thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by Jeremiah the prophet, saying: A voice in Rama was heard, lamentation and great mourning; Rachel bewailing her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not. (Matthew 2:16-18)

Today the Church celebrates this feast of the Holy Innocents. The day when Herod, out of fear that a new king had been born who would threaten his throne, had every child he could find murdered. Matthew’s Gospel tells us that Joseph saves Jesus by taking he and his mother Mary to Egypt.

The death of a child is a terrible thing to endure. During my time of ministry I have sat many times with the parents of a child who has died, trying to understand along with them, why their child has been taken away. There are no easy answers to give, no magic words or actions that will make the situation better. Only time and holding close to God and family seems to eventually bring acceptance and peace.

Let us pray today for those who have lost a child. May they be comforted in their sorrow.

O Emmanuel, our king and our lawgiver,

the hope of the nations and their Saviour:

Come and save us, O Lord our God.

As the days and now hours until Christmas draw near our prayers seem even more urgent. Come and save us, O Lord our God! The hymn O Come O Come Emmanuel, which draws entirely upon these O Antiphons begins by saying,  ransom captive Israel. Often I believe Christians have taken this idea of God’s paying a ransom of his son in the wrong way.  Too many times we have allowed ourselves to see God and the devil on an equal playing field and wonder what kind of God would demand the death of his son as expiation for our sins.  A better explanation of the ransom idea is that God indeed sent his son to rescue us from the power of sin and death, but that once the trade has taken place there is a surprise awaiting those same powers.  Christ is infinitely more powerful than the forces of evil and they have no power to hold him.

The second part of this final O Antiphon is found once again in Isaiah,

The Lord himself will give you this sign: the Virgin  shall be with child, and bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel. (Isaiah 7:14)

Matthew goes on in his Gospel to remind us that the name Emmanuel means,  God is with us. Christmas is a time to remember that Christ is indeed with us and that we are never left to battle the forces of sin and death alone.  We have, as one of us,  a savior who has triumphed over every power that holds us captive.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shown. (Isaiah 9:1)

In my Friday post I mentioned the number of deaths there have been in the parish over the past few weeks. Today I was struck very powerfully by how quickly we as human beings move from life to death or as our Christian faith tells us, from one type of life to another. This afternoon I did something unusual for me. When asked by the hearse driver if I would like to ride with him, I said yes. Usually I drive my own car so as to be able to leave soon after the completion of the prayers at the grave. The cemetery was a traditional one, attached to a church where many other family members of the deceased are buried. Since I was riding with the funeral workers, I stayed after the family had departed to help lower the casket into the grave and to take down the chairs and tent over the grave. As we were leaving, I watched as the grave was filled with dirt and was begun to be packed down. It won’t be long before the same dirt is covered again with grass that matches the rest of the graves.

A week ago the deceased and his wife were here at St. Thomas to celebrate the liturgy for the Feast of All Souls. Today his body lies in rest with other family members at an old church cemetery. Watching the dirt cover his casket was a harsh reminder of how short our life here on earth really is. One second we are here and the next we are gone. I was also reminded by his wife at the end of today’s funeral liturgy of another truth. Though this life is short, the next one is eternal. As we were walking with the casket to the hearse she leaned over to share how much she loved the last verse of Amazing Grace, which we were just concluding. The last verse goes like this:

When we’ve been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’d first begun!

May God grant eternal rest to the recently departed of St. Thomas the Apostle.