On the Fourth Day of Christmas

Collect:
Purify our conscience, Almight God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen

Readings:
AM: Ps 80; Isa. 29:13-24
PM: Ps 146.147; Rev 21:22-22:5; Luke 1: 39-56


Collect for the Feast of the Holy Innocents
We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims ; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love and peace; through jesus Christ our Lords, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen

Readings:
AM Psalm 2, 26; Isaiah 49:13-23; Matthew 18:1-14
PM Psalm 19, 126; Isaiah 54:1-13; Mark 10:13-16



Matthew 2:13-18. A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.

Death of children is difficult to read about, to hear about, or worse, to experience. Yet the deaths of innocents happens every day throughout the world. The biblical account has an angel warn Joseph, and he flees with Mary and Jesus. Herod had ordered the death of every male child age two and under in and around Bethlehem.

Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, family, and friends all weep for the death of children. The Holy Innocents were said to be two and under, but it does not matter. People weep for any child killed by violence, AIDS, cancer, suicide, drunk drivers, starvation, or catastrophe. It does not matter. We who love those children weep as Rachel did.

Almighty God, Father of mercies and giver of comfort: Deal graciously, we pray, with all who mourn; that casting all their care on you, they may know the consolation of your love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. --Prayer Book, p. 505



Anglican Cycle of Prayer: Lebombo - (South Africa)

Advent calendar: Ways to Move Systems -- like businesses and governments -- Toward Sustainability:
2. Write letters of protest to wasteful companies and send commendations to businesses working toward sustainability. Help: Business for Social Responsibility, www.bsr.org

Advent Calendar: Open Wide the Doors To Christ by Elizabeth Bookser Barkley
Sng 2:8-14; Lk 1:39-45) Be present to a loved one. Class reunions and family reunions for those who hardly know each other can be tedious, but reunions between those who deeply love one another and have been apart bring only joy. Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth caused baby John to leap for joy inside her. Take time today to surprise a distant loved one with a pre-Christmas call, card or e-mail.



From: Christmas CLARESHARE December 2006
Ty Mam Duw Poor Clare Colettine Community

28th December
Feast of the Holy Innocents
A day for children and fools! This day used to be called the feast of fools!
It is the day of remembrance for the little children of Bethlehem and the surrounding area who were killed by King Herod at the time of Jesus' birth.
Recall a happy childhood memory of Christmas. Thank God for it (it was his gift).
Sum it up in no more than 3 words and yes, stick it up on your fridge door.
Remember all suffering children and the unborn who do not live to see the
light of day.



From John E. Rotelle, O.S.A., Tradition Day by Day: Readings from Church Writers. Augustinian Press. Villanova, PA, 1994.

Christ continues to be born in us

Those who lived before the incarnation approached their noble task differently from those who lived after it, but even so Christ was born to all who lived to one and the same faith. Yet what is more amazing is that Christ continues to be borne to us today. Daily he allows himself to be brought forth by every believing soul. What virginity accomplished physically in the mother of the Lord when she gave birth, a conscience purified from sin and full of merits accomplishes spiritually in our inmost being. Whenever anyone is incorporated into Christ's body in the womb of holy Mother Church, becoming one of his members, that person by reason of his or her faith becomes Christ's brother or sister; as he himself says through the psalmist: I will declare your name to my brethren.

So it is that what we revere in the Lord we also can become if we follow in his footsteps. If in our minds we bind ourselves to the head himself, it is fitting that we should make every effort to be united also to his members; I mean, to those servants of God, who, as I said before, bore witness that the Son of God would come in the flesh. When we hear of their virtues, remember them, and practice them ourselves, we bring Christ down from heaven into the world.

Sedatus of Béziers, Sedatus of Béziers was present in 589 at the council of Toledo and Narbonne. The few sermons of his that are extant shed light upon the religious culture of southeast Gaul in the sixth century.






PAPA PANOV'S SPECIAL CHRISTMAS
(A French folktale retold by Leo Tolstoy)

It was Christmas Eve and although it was still afternoon, lights had begun
to appear in the shops and houses of the little Russian village, for the
short winter day was nearly over. Excited children scurried indoors and now
only muffled sounds of chatter and laughter escaped from closed shutters.

Old Papa Panov, the village shoemaker, stepped outside his shop to take one
last look around. The sounds of happiness, the bright lights and the faint
but delicious smells of Christmas cooking reminded him of past Christmas
times when his wife had still been alive and his own children little. Now
they had gone. His usually cheerful face, with the little laughter wrinkles
behind the round steel spectacles, looked sad now. But he went back indoors
with a firm step, put up the shutters and set a pot of coffee to heat on the
charcoal stove. Then, with a sigh, he settled in his big armchair.

Papa Panov did not often read, but tonight he pulled down the big old family
Bible and, slowly tracing the lines with one forefinger, he read again the
Christmas story. He read how Mary and Joseph, tired by their journey to
Bethlehem, found no room for them at the inn, so that Mary's little baby was
born in the cowshed.

"I would have given them a room," Papa Panov thought to himself. "There is
plenty of space in this old house of mine."

"Oh, dear, oh, dear!" exclaimed Papa Panov, "if only they had come here! I
would have given them my bed and I could have covered the baby with my
patchwork quilt to keep him warm."


He read on about the wise men who had come to see the baby Jesus, bringing
him splendid gifts. Papa Panov's face fell. "I have no gift that I could
give him," he thought sadly.

Then his face brightened. He put down the Bible, got up and stretched his
long arms to the shelf high up in his little room. He took down a small,
dusty box and opened it. Inside was a perfect pair of tiny leather shoes,
sewn once upon a time by his own nimble fingers - fingers now grown gnarled
and still. Papa Panov smiled with satisfaction. Yes, they were as good as he
remembered- the best shoes he had ever made. "I should give him those," he
decided, as he gently put them away and sat down again.




He was feeling tired now, and the further he read the sleeper he became. The
print began to dance before his eyes so that he closed them, just for a
minute. In no time at all Papa Panov was fast asleep. For it was evening
now and all was quiet and still.

All Christmas Eve he slept. And as he slept he dreamed. He dreamed of his
wife and of his children and of the happy Christmases they had shared. He
saw their faces, just as he remembered them - laughing and singing and
shining with joy.

And just as the aching sadness of that dream became too much for him to
bear, Papa Panov saw another face - a kind and gentle face. He dreamed that
that Someone was in his room and he know at once, as one does in dreams, who
the person was. It was Jesus.

"You have been wishing that you could see me, Papa Panov." he said kindly,
"then look for me tomorrow. It will be Christmas Day and I will visit you.
But look carefully, for I shall not tell you who I am."

When at last Papa Panov awoke, the bells were ringing out and a thin light
was filtering through the shutters. "Bless my soul!" said Papa Panov. "It's
Christmas Day!"

He stood up and stretched himself for he was rather stiff. Then his face
filled with happiness as he remembered his dream. This would be a very
special Christmas after all, for Jesus was coming to visit him. How would
he look? Would he be a little baby, as at that first Christmas? Would he be
a grown man, a carpenter- or the great King that he is, God's Son? He must
watch carefully the whole day through so that he recognized him however he
came.

Papa Panov tidied up his house. He put on a special pot of coffee for his
Christmas breakfast, took down the shutters and looked out of the window.
The street was deserted, no one was stirring yet. Every few minutes, he
peeped out of the windows. And that's when he saw the man.

It could have been Jesus, walking slowly down the street, holding a
shepherd's staff. But as the man got closer, Papa Panov recognised him at
once. It was Sergei, the village street sweeper, faithfully doing his job.
He looked as miserable and dirty as ever, and well he might! Whoever wanted
to work on Christmas Day - and in the raw cold and bitter freezing mist of
such a morning?

Papa Panov opened the shop door, letting in a thin stream of cold air. "Come
in!" he shouted across the street cheerily. "Come in and join me;
have some hot coffee to keep out the cold!"

The sweeper looked up, scarcely able to believe his ears. He was only too
glad to put down his broom, dust the snow from his shoulders, rub his
freezing hands, and come into the warm room. His old clothes steamed gently
in the heat of the stove and he clasped both red hands round the comforting
warm mug as he drank.

Sergei drank his coffee slowly, letting the steam rise like a warm cloud
over his cold face. Papa Panov watched him with satisfaction, but every now
and them his eyes strayed to the window. It would never do to miss his
special visitor.

"Expecting someone?" the sweeper asked at last. So Papa Panov told him
about his dream.

"Well, I hope he comes," the street sweeper said, "You've given me a bit of
Christmas cheer I never expected to have. I'd say you deserve to have your
dream come true." And he actually smiled.

"But now I must get back to work. Thank you for your coffee and your
kindness." And with a grateful 'Merry Christmas!' the sweeper picked up his
broom and went back to sweep the street.

When he had gone, Papa Panov put on cabbage soup for his dinner, then went
to the door again, scanning the street. Morning was now passing by and the
street was now springing to life. As the soup was cooking, Papa Panov
watched his neighbours wandering off to visit their relatives. But still
there was no sign of Jesus.

But someone was coming, someone he did not recognise. It was a young woman,
just a girl really, walking ever so slowly and quietly down the street,
hugging the walls of shops and houses, that it was a while before he noticed
her. She looked very tired, and cold and shivering, and she was carrying
something, a small bundle of something in her arms.

As she drew nearer to his house, he could see that it was a baby, wrapped in
a thin shawl. There was such sadness in her face and in the pinched little
face of the baby, that Papa Panov's heart went out to them.

"Please, please. Won't you come in," he called, stepping outside to meet
them. "You both need a warm by the fire and a rest."

The young mother let him shepherd her indoors and to the comfort of the
armchair. She gave a big sigh of relief.

"I'll warm some milk for the baby," Papa Panov said, "I've had children of
my own- I can feed her for you." He took the milk from the stove and
carefully fed the baby from a spoon, warming her tiny feet by the stove at
the same time.

"She needs shoes," the cobbler said. But the girl replied, "I can't afford
shoes, I've got no husband to bring home money. I'm on my way to the next
village to get work."

Suddenly a thought flashed through Papa Panov's mind. He remembered the
little shoes he had looked at last night. But he had been keeping those for
Jesus. He looked again at the cold little feet and made up his mind.

"Try these on her," he said, handing the baby and the shoes to the mother.
The beautiful little shoes were a perfect fit. The girl smiled happily and
the baby gurgled with pleasure.

"You have been so kind to us," the girl said, when she got up with her baby
to go. "May all your Christmas wishes come true!"

But Papa Panov was beginning to wonder if his very special Christmas wish
would come true. Perhaps he had missed his visitor? He looked anxiously up
and down the street. There were plenty of people about but they were all
faces that he recognized ­ neighbours calling on their friends and families
still. They nodded and smiled and wished him Happy Christmas!

But there were plenty of beggars too, wandering the streets in search of a
little Christmas cheer. So Papa Panov opened his door to them, fetching
them some of his hot cabbage soup and generous hunks of bread. And they
slurped it all down, so gratefully they did.

But now it was late afternoon, early evening in fact, and the winter sun was
ever so low in the sky. There was still no sign of Jesus. It was dark by the
time the last beggar left, and Papa Panov was tired.

When Papa Panov next went to the door and strained his eyes, he could no
longer make out the passers-by. Most were home and indoors by now anyway. He
walked slowly back into his room at last, put up the shutters, and sat down
wearily in his armchair.

He was more sad and lonely than he had been the night before. "So it had
been just a dream after all." He sighed. "Only a dream." Jesus had not come.

But just then when his eyelids were closing he woke up with a start. At that
very moment, Papa Panov knew that he was not alone. This was no dream for he
was now wide awake.

At first he seemed to see before his eyes the long stream of people who had
come to him that day. He saw again the old street sweeper, the young mother
and her baby and the beggars he had fed. As they passed, each whispered,
"Didn't you see me, Papa Panov?"

"Who are you?" he called out, bewildered. Then another voice answered him.
It was the voice from his dream- the voice of Jesus.

"I was hungry and you fed me," he said. "I was naked and you clothed me. I
was cold and you warmed me. I came to you today in everyone of those you
helped and welcomed."

Then all was quiet and still. Only the sound of the big clock ticking. A
great peace and happiness seemed to fill the room, overflowing Papa Panov's
heart until he wanted to burst out singing and laughing and dancing with
joy.

"So he did come after all!" was all that he said.

But as the old man nodded off again, in the quiet of his heart the voice of
Jesus called out again. "Merry Christmas, Papa Panov."

"Merry Christmas, Jesus", Papa Panov replied sleepily.




On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

Day 4, December 28
Four Calling Birds
The Four Gospels: 1) Matthew, 2) Mark, 3) Luke, and 4) John, which proclaim the Good News of God's reconciliation of the world to Himself in Jesus Christ.

The Fourth Day of Christmas
The Four Gospels (four calling birds)

There has been an injustice done. Only one.

The only absolutely sinless man to ever live has died. Just four days ago we celebrated his birth. Mary gave birth to God’s only begotten son.

We rejoiced.

We sang carols.

We feasted.

We gave.

We received.

What a celebration it was. We thought about it late into the night.

This is considered the fourth day of Christmas. On the fourth day of Christmas my true love (God) gave to me -- Four calling birds (The four gospels).

What are they calling? They are telling us the story of the injustice.

A story of a virgin giving birth to a son. A son who never needed punished his whole life. I believe we have recorded the only possible scolding Jesus ever received when he was twelve years old.

It is a story of a love being the absolute perfection of 1 Corinthians 13. It is a story of one who had the favor of all the common people. One who taught like no other could. One who was totally obedient to the Father.

Then disaster. Injustice. Death to the only innocent man to ever live.

We look at all the hurts in this world. We see Adam and Eve disobeying God. We see Cain killing Abel. And we would have liked to have been able to prevent it.

We see a president shot and killed. We see a bomb dropped on a city that wiped out all the living for miles around. We see a Challenger space shuttle explode, one of the passengers a beloved school teacher, her students watching the explosion.

We say, "What an injustice!" "What an atrocity!" We want to change it. We want to go back and correct it. We all feel the pain. We want to justify it in our own thinking and for all who have gone through the pain of it.

But as unfair as we see it, as much pain as there is by it happening, it is the result of missing the mark. Not being perfect. Making the wrong choices. All the way from the choice of Adam and Eve.

Yes, as unfair as it seems it will never compare to the death of Jesus on the cross. He did not make wrong choices. He did not sin. He could never deserve death for the life he lived.

The rest of us do. We say the means of death is sometimes brutal, but it is appointed unto man once to die and after that the judgement.

Jesus had no judgement to face. He did not deserve death. Yet, he died. It was finished. There is no reversing it. A true injustice has been done and it is the result of our lives and choices. There is no restitution for such an injustice. No way to make it right. It is an infinite injustice and the gospels tell us about it.

But that is not the end of the story. The injustice was not the final. The grave could not hold him. Death could not get a grip. He overcame and because he has gone through the same suffering we go through. Because he died as we deserve. Because such an infinite injustice was done he has paid the price that makes all of those who will receive the gift from him free from our sin and death. He is the sympathetic high priest. He can say to the Father, “My death was unjust and will never be made right. Even if you put the sins of the whole world on me, they are not my sins so I can toss them off and free the sinner.” He holds the key. He calls us brothers. He was the perfect sacrifice that can never be reversed. Whose blood will never lose its power. The blood of Abel calls out to us as does the death of so many who have had a horrible death, but the blood of Christ does more than call out to us. It cleanses us completely.

Jesus, thank you for the calling of your blood as described in the four gospels. I cannot begin to comprehend how you lived a sinless life on this earth, but you deserve every praise and honor, the highest respect, the greatest majesty, the gift of ourselves to live such a life, as you enable us to, for you. All things have been given to you and rightfully so.

Amen

~ Ron Pruitt
Sarasota, Flordia, USA

Lord Jesus,

Thank You for bringing us good news, God spell, Gospel. We have never needed anything else so greatly. You warned of days of wars and rumors of war. All through history and even today such concerns abound. But, in You we have the victory. You have won the battle and the enemy IS defeated. You have paid the great price for our freedom, our salvation, our deliverance. And all you asked is that we keep Your commands. Help me, Brother, to love.

Amen