Pondering the Word

Mystical Transformation

2012-02-19T18:18:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Last Epiphany, The Feast of the Transfiguration: 2 Kings 2:1-12, Mark 9:2-9

A delightful video appeared on the news Saturday morning. The story told of a couple of young men in St. Pete Beach, Florida, who were wakeboarding – water skiing on a single board, without the accompanying ropes, in the wave created by a speed boat – one young man was filming the other as he skied.
Suddenly two dolphins appeared, leaping high out of the water then diving back in. The dolphins raced along in the wave near the man skiing, with a playful intentionality, with no other purpose than to have fun. And then quite easily the dolphins caught up with the speed boat, astonishing everyone who watched.

The video is pure delight – catching the dolphins in and out of the water – simply playing. Moments like these, when the beauty of nature breaks into the world of human beings, surprising us and delighting us, are mystical moments. Caught by surprise mystical moments burst open our sense of life and give us a new, deeper understanding of what is possible. Mystical moments point us to God, and the reality that there is so much more to this world than we normally see.

Mystical moments of the in-breaking of God are what we hear in our scripture readings this morning. In the reading from 2 Kings we have the story of Elisha and Elijah. These two prophets are well known in Hebrew stories as the prophets who point the way toward the coming of the Messiah. The story of Jesus’ transfiguration in the presence of Peter, James, and John, like the story of the ascension of Elijah, is meant to break open our understanding of who God is, how God works in the world, and invite us into a deeper relationship with God.

No doubt mystical moments, when we are able to perceive them as such, sustain and deepen our faith. But more often we live in a world of skeptics, or as Mark is fond of saying, a world in which we fail to see God’s presence around us.

The Huffington Post Religion page had an article on Saturday by Diana Butler Bass. Bass was reflecting on her latest book, “Christianity After Religion, The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening.” Bass writes:

Something startling is happening in American religion…
…In 1999, when survey takers asked Americans "Do you consider yourself spiritual or religious," ….54 percent responded that they were "religious but not spiritual." By 2009, only 9 percent of Americans responded that way. In 10 years, those willing to identify themselves primarily as "religious" plummeted by 45 percentage points.

In the last decade, the word "religion" has become equated with institutional or organized religion. Because of crises such as the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and the Roman Catholic abuse scandal, Americans now define "religion" in almost exclusively negative terms.

….There may be hope, however, regarding the future of faith. Despite worry about the word, "religion," Americans are extremely warm toward "spiritual but not religious" (30 percent) and, even more interestingly (and perhaps paradoxically), the term "spiritual and religious" (48 percent). While "religion" means institutional religion, "spirituality" means an experience of faith. Large numbers of Americans are hankering for experiential faith whereby they can connect with God…”

"Americans are searching for churches -- and temples, synagogues, and mosques -- that are not caught up in political intrigue, rigid rules and prohibitions, institutional maintenance, unresponsive authorities, and inflexible dogma but instead offer pathways of life-giving spiritual experience, connection, meaning, vocation, and doing justice in the world..” (Huff Post Religion, Saturday, Feb. 18, 2012: Diana Butler Bass)

I find this excerpt from Bass’ article intriguing because it segues with the vestry discussions from our retreat last weekend. Focusing our work on the idea of discipleship as a call from God that asks us to “go and do” we pondered the ways in which Christ Church is offering people a place to experience the presence of God, both in worship and in moments outside of Sunday morning worship.

Take for example all of the people who come through our doors for AA meetings, martial arts, the League of Women Voters, the AAUW, the Moms Take-A-Break group, Zumba class, stretching class, Creating Hope International, and Sekeena’s work with women and girls in Afghanistan, the many people who came here for the Alternative Holiday Market, the boy scouts and girls scout troops, and Chapel Day pre-school – as just a few examples of the many ways this building offers people a place to experience the presence of God simply by the ordinary work they do each and every day – whether or not an experience of God is a primary focus and intention of the group. Part of our mission is to function as community center for these many groups that meet here.

Another part of our mission is help people become formed in their faith. Christianity is not intended to be a solo faith experience - rather it is intended to be a community experience. Scripture reminds us that our faith is nurtured when we gather to pray, celebrate, and sing. Our faith is nurtured when we develop a language of faith which can articulate our experiences of the profound in-breaking of God’s presence. Even as we are called to do this, gather, worship, be formed, and share an experience of God, we are also called to go out and do. Jesus makes that perfectly clear to Peter when he tries to limit and contain Jesus on the mountain top. No Jesus says, let’s go! And so a third part of our mission at Christ Church takes place out in the world around us. This is our work in soup kitchen and homeless shelters, and building wells in Africa.

The vestry’s work over the next year will include telling our story at Christ Church and the wonderful ways we encounter the mystery of God and share that mystery with others.

Lent, which begins this week, is a season that journeys through mystery and transformation: mystery of what God is doing in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus; and the transformation that is the result of God’s in-breaking Spirit.

Lent is distinctive and beckons us to take notice. Like other seasons our worship space will be transformed. Members of the worship planning committee and other parishioners are busy creating the look and feel of Lent for us. Flowers will be replaced with bare branches and rocks, startling but symbolic of the season. Lent is a season of ash and dirt, bearing an earthy quality. Our Lenten bread will be a hardy rye, wheat, and bulgur. Our Lenten communion wine will be a dry burgundy. Our Lenten vessels will be glass, the color of Lent is purple. Our worship will invite us to engage our senses of sound, smell, touch, sight – to reflect on the ways God is present in ordinary ways – in life and death, in simplicity and solemnity.

Part of our mission as people of faith is to engage in creative energy. Lent will stimulate our senses in a particular way. Lent invites us to use our imaginations, and to be attentive to the ways God is breaking into our lives. Lent invites us into the mystery of death and life. Into the mystery of examining the ways we are broken and the ways God breaks in and heals us.

For God’s presence is essential to our lives, like breathing – in and out, willingly and unwillingly, consciously and unconsciously, we breathe and go on breathing – and so it is with God – always present whether we know God’s presence of not, filling our lives with God’s sustaining love, whether we know it or not. Inviting us to be playful, like dolphins in the waves, in a faith journey that engages all our senses and imagination. The great season of Lent is upon us. May it be a mystical journey of faith.

Healed, Called to Serve

2012-02-06T20:31:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Epiphany 5B, Mark 1:29-39

Five and half years ago I suffered a life threatening illness. From a fractured tooth came an abscess, from the abscess came an infection that ran 2-1/2 inches through my jaw bone. The infection followed the nerve in my jaw, leaving me unable to feel most of my bottom lip and teeth. The infection then travelled up the side of my face. All of this developed over the course of one week, taking me from a dentist who thought I had TMJ to a hospital room and a team of doctors including a surgeon, an internist, and an infectious disease specialist. At first the hospital attempted to cure me with IV antibiotics. But 48 hours later, with the infection increasing, I was prepped and waiting for surgery.

I remember waiting for the surgery; it was about 5:00 in the evening. I was taken down to the surgical unit and left in this holding area. Alone. Well alone except for some guy in surgical attire who was tinkering on some piece of equipment. I have no idea who he was or what he was doing – and in my drugged state I had this sense that I had been parked in a hospital version of a mechanics garage – the hospital equivalent of a Jiffy Lube stall. I waited there for nearly 90 minutes, while they prepared the operating room. A big clock hung on the wall, literally reminding me just how slow time can pass. It was a very surreal time for I was in both profound pain and profound peace. I just gave myself over to God, trusting that one way or another everything would be all right.

As we hear in our Gospel this morning, Peter’s mother in law is sick with fever. Having a fever was no small matter in the ancient world – people knew that there were many causes of illness and that fever carried with it a high potential for death. Then, Jesus comes into the home and into her room, and heals her. Upon which she immediately rises from the bed and begins to serve her guests. “Being raised up” is how the Gospel describes this healing, using a verb, egerio, that is common in the Gospel of Mark. This verb suggests that a new strength has been imparted to an individual laid low by illness in order that they can rise up and take their place in the world.

Think about that – a new strength imparted to one laid low by illness in order that they can rise up and take their place in the world.
The Gospel tells us that this is exactly what Peter’s mother in law did – she rose up from her illness and began to serve them. It was after all her home and her calling, as the matriarch of that home, to tend to her guests. The same verb “To serve” is used in Mark to describe both the actions of the mother-in-law AND the actions of Jesus – both are called to serve in the same way. It’s a calling from God, and it brings with it a sense of the holy. This same verb is used to describe the ministry of the disciples, too. But in the Gospel, this woman, this mother, is the first character who is described with these verbs – making her the first disciple, one who is doing God’s work in the world by serving others.

Following this story about the mother in law we find Jesus healing many others. Not everyone, mind you, is healed, but many are. We see Jesus in action, serving others, as an agent of God’s healing love in the world. You might say that the door of the woman’s house, where she was healed, becomes the doorway where all in the city are healed.

It’s all kind of ordinary, the way the woman serves and the way Jesus serves, and the way in which healing occurs. Ordinary, and yet, extraordinary, because healing comes from God, and is an expression of God’s power, grace, love, mercy, and compassion.

And so, healing is one thing, being cured is another. Not everyone who is healed is actually cured of illness and disease. But in and through the grace of God, deep and profound healing can take place, even in and within the course of an illness. Even a chronic illness or a terminal illness can become the means by which a person finds healing.

Being cured means that the symptoms of the illness are gone and one can resume one’s every day activities. Being healed means that regardless of the illness and symptoms one finds a sense of peace and wholeness, a sense of being complete and held in God’s love, one can be healed even when one remains ill. Anyone who lives a life with a chronic illness understands what this means. Healing allows us to reclaim our vocation, our calling from God, to serve God, to tend to people as God’s hands and heart.

One of the primary ways we access the healing that God offers is through prayer. I’m not really talking about prayer where we plead with God for healing, nor prayer where we bargain with God – although I am sure God accepts our prayers however they come from us. But there is a particular way that healing comes when we pray as Jesus did, in silence and stillness.
Scripture helps us understand that we are called to stillness, to pray, to reflect - Remember Isaiah’s promise, “those who wait for God…shall run and not be weary, shall walk and not faint.” God calls us to be still, to wait, to reflect on our lives, and then to trust in God, in God’s steadfast love. Jesus takes time out for stillness, to pray, to reflect and from it he finds his direction. The stillness, the prayers, point us to see our lives as they really are. We are more than the illness in the body. We are more than the suffering in the body. We are more than the fear and more than the pain. We are loved by God and that makes us more than anything that tries to hold us down.

One of the primary purposes of Sunday morning worship is to offer us this time for stillness and prayer, a time to be lifted up out of the concerns of our lives and be reminded of who we are and whose we are. We hear this affirmed in our scripture readings, in our prayers, and in the Eucharist - a reminder that our brokenness is healed and renewed, over and over, through the grace of God’s love. Through the praying of these prayers a new strength is imparted onto us, and our illnesses are laid low, in order that we may rise up and take our place in the world. Sent out into the world in peace to love and serve God.

What Have You To Do With Us, Jesus? the interior process of transitions..

2012-01-29T16:13:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Epiphany 4B: Psalm 111, Mark 1:21-28 and the Rector's Report for the Annual Meeting

Our Psalm this morning reminds us that the beginning of wisdom is the fear of the Lord. Of course fear here does not mean to be “afraid,” it actually means to be in awe of, to honor, respect, value and follow God. William Bridges, in his book, “Managing Transitions,” offers a perspective on the state in which we, as a congregation, and the entire state of religious institutions in the United States, currently live as we try to follow God in an ever changing world. He writes, “…. Change is not the same as transition. Change is situational: the new site, the new boss, the new team roles, the new policy. Transition is the psychological process people go through to come to terms with the new situation. Change is external, transition is internal.” The beginning of wisdom, we might say, is understanding what it means to follow God in this day and age. Or as the Gospel of Mark points us, we can wonder “where is God in all of this?” and more specifically today our reading asks us: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth, the Holy One of God?"

Bridges, and other folk who study parish dynamic, acknowledge that a change in who is Rector, the external component, is obvious. Dan Appleyard left, Bob Hart came and left, and I was called and came. But the internal transition continues. Bridges writes that “Inwardly the psychological transition happen(s) much more slowly,(for) as fast as the situation changed outwardly, we will struggle for a time in a state that is neither the old nor the new. It’s time of emotional wilderness, a time when it isn’t clear who we are or what is real.” (pg. 5) So, we begin to understand that following God in this time means a bit of wandering through a time that will feel like the wilderness.

Some may be grieving the loss of previous clergy that have served here. Many of you are excited that the search for a rector is over, you are ready to get going with whatever hopes and dreams you have in mind. This is the nature of this type of transition, of this wilderness time - it is a time of simultaneous dreaming of what can be and grieving what was.

I am going through my own internal transition. I have relocated to a new town three hundred miles from my kids, I have to find new doctors and dentists, new friends and colleagues, a new spiritual director and a new favorite place for pizza or breakfast.

The typical transition time, when a congregation calls a new rector, is about 18 months. Or in other words, we will be adjusting and adapting emotionally and psychologically to one another, while building relationship, for about 18 months until we settle into a relatively comfortable pattern. I have been here almost nine months, so we are about half way through this transition time.

During these first nine months I have observed this parish and how we function. I have intentionally tried to keep as much the same as possible. Truth be told, I feel a very organic, natural connection between the way this parish functions and my leadership style.

That said, some things have been done differently. Sometimes that is because no one could remember how something was done. Some things have happened simply because there was a request from a parishioner to do something, and enough energy around the idea, that we did it. And some change happened simply because I am neither Dan nor Bob. But regardless, my effort has been primarily focused on learning how this parish functions and becoming a part of the system. I have done this by meeting with groups and individuals, listening to what people have to say about themselves and their role in the parish. I have tried to be attentive to where the energy is and what excites people. I have made note of what people are frustrated with and where the energy feels depleted.

This year the Vestry and I will move into a more intentional time of observation, reflection, and action.

As a Vestry we will engage the Charrette work in our annual retreat this February. Thomas Trimble, and others from the Charrette group work, will join us for a portion of the retreat so we can hear their observations and learn more about the outcome and goals that developed from the Charrette work. We have engaged the guidance of Jim Gettel, a parish consultant, who spoke at the Celebration Dinner. Jim will guide the vestry through this period of reflection, assessment, and direction. This work will take some time, longer than this one retreat. I have read through all of the annual reports from 1999 to 2010, I know that it is important that the Vestry develop an action plan so that our work moves from the theoretical to practical. It is also important that the parish be apprised, as relevant, to our work.

I have formed a team, comprised of Jaime Connelly and Pete Kenney, who are working with me on a “Legal Review.” We are reading through our By-Laws, policies, procedures, and letters of agreements. This will help me understand both the big picture organizationally and the details of policies and procedures we have implemented. We are checking to ensure that there is consistency in writing and in practice of what we have said and what we do. And lastly the review is to ensure that our practices are in line with Diocesan Canons and General Convention Canons.

Combined, between the review and the work with Jim Gettel, the Vestry hopes to have greater clarity of its leadership role as a whole and as individual members. Having read thirteen years’ worth of annual reports I understand that articulating and implementing leadership roles is an ongoing process in this parish. It is an ongoing process in every parish because vestry members change each year. Changes in leadership require of us, from time to time, to re-articulate roles and responsibilities of leadership and create the means by which each leader is accountable to oneself, one’s committee, and the parish.

In preparation for the retreat - the vestry, and those nominated for vestry, - has been asked to read the book, “A Door Set Open” by Peter Steinke. This book,(and I recommend it to everyone here), articulates the transition that our society is in today and how that transition impacts the church. Steinke writes, “Today’s rapidly changing world is pressing the church to respond to a shift of paradigm.” Steinke reminds us that all religious institutions, particularly Christianity, are going through an internal transition in response to a vastly changing world. Phyllis Tickle and Diana Butler Bass, among others, are calling this time in Christian History, “The New Reformation.” What this means is we have a great opportunity to tap into God’s creative energy. This time of transition offers the potential for a new religious awakening, a new resurrection! Both for Christianity as a whole and for Christ Church specifically.
It is important in our discernment that we pay attention to what has changed, what is changing, and continue our transition to some new opportunities. Let’s be mindful that the change in priest is not the end of the transition – rather it offers us the opportunity to continue the internal transition, a process of which will bring greater health and growth. We are on a larger journey that will draw us closer to God and one another in faith, hope and love.

I am really excited to be on this journey with you. Christ Church is a fabulous community, energetic, engaged, thoughtful, creative, fun, exciting, - I love being here with you – and feel truly blessed - and that’s because each of you bring your gifts and talents, your heart and your compassion, and share them abundantly. Our Psalm reminds us that God is engaged in our lives and in this transition time, God will provide for all of our needs. And so, with the confidence that God has our back, let us step forward in faith. I look forward to the year ahead.

On Being Found

2012-01-22T16:04:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the readings for the third Sunday after the Epiphany, year B: Mark 1:14-20; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Psalm 62:5-12; Jonah 3:1-5

Do you remember Mr. Gower, the old pharmacist in it’s a wonderful life? Do you remember, in particular, the way he was portrayed in the portion of the movie meant to show George what the lives of his family and friends would be like if he had never been born? Without George to intervene in the medication mix up Mr. Gower became the disgrace of the town, disliked by everyone, taunted, disheveled, with a tendency to drink too much. That’s the image I have of the person in this joke:

So, a disheveled, disoriented man stumbles across a baptismal service on Sunday afternoon down by the river.

He proceeds to walk into the water and stand next to the preacher. The minister notices the man and says, "Mister, are you ready to find Jesus?"

The man looks back and says, "Yes, preacher, I sure am."

The minister dunks the fellow under the water and pulls him right back up.

"Have you found Jesus?" the preacher asks."Nooo, I didn't!" said the man.

The preacher then dunks him under for quite a bit longer, brings him up, and says, "Now, brother, have you found Jesus?"

"Noooo, I have not, Reverend."

The preacher holds the man under for even longer and then brings him out of the water, and says, "My God, man, have you found Jesus yet?"

The man wipes his eyes and says to the preacher, "Are you sure this is where he fell in?"

Where is Jesus? Where is God? Are themes of our readings this morning. And, along with the wondering where God is, we hear the theme of people who follow Jesus, follow God. It’s quite amazing, in the reading last week and this week, that these people drop everything to follow Jesus. Last week Philip and Nathanael drop their nets and follow. This week Simon and Andrew, James and John, drop everything and follow. Out of the water that has been their life, these fisherfolk turn, and follow Jesus, just like that. Did it feel impulsive to them? Or did it feel right? Or were they hesitant but did it anyway?

When Dan and I were first married we went to Salt Lake City for part of our honeymoon, where we met my extended family. That was followed by a week hiking in Estes Park, Colorado. One of our first days in Salt Lake we drove east to Park City. It was a beautiful August day, and we leisurely wandered the roads and mountain side. As the afternoon was growing late we decided to head back. I felt certain, based on a vague childhood memory, that there was a back-road over the mountain that would drop us into Salt Lake City. So we wandered on this dirt road for a bit, going deeper into the wilderness and over ever more challenging roads. We were driving a little green Gremlin, or Pinto, I don’t remember, some old car my dad had. But which-ever it was it was definitely not built for the rugged terrain we were on. Sure enough we bottomed out – took out some part of the undercarriage necessary for driving. This was in 1985, no cell phones, no GPS. We were good and stranded.

Thankfully some young guys were driving their pickup through the back-roads and came to assist us. We had to leave the car in the woods and accept a ride back to a gas station on the main highway where we called my dad and aunt to come get us. The next day we returned and pulled the car out of the rut.

Sometimes we get on a path, and even if it is not the right path, we just can’t figure out how to turn around and get to a better place. The people of Ninevah were in such a place – stuck in their self-destructive ways. Jonah comes and proclaims their demise and in doing so turns the course of events in a significant way. The people of Ninevah change their ways which provokes God to change God’s mind, thus sparing the people of Ninevah. Here we have an example of how God’s actions are always contextual – God always acts in relationship to our actions.

And so our readings this morning focus us on the idea of a relationship of actions - of turning, of change, of humans turning and changing and in response, God turning and changing, always in relationship to creation, to us.
In Jonah we hear of God changing God’s mind. In the Psalm we hear of the steady presence of God. Paul, in the letter to the Corinthians lists the ways in which the qualities of life pass away and change, but God’s presence is steady. And then in the Gospel we hear that God challenges us to pay attention, to recognize God’s call to us to change our ways, to turn and to follow God.

Perhaps one reason these fisherfolk in the Gospel turn and follow Jesus may be that they remember the story from Jonah, of what happened, later, to Jonah when he fails to follow God – and ends up in the belly of a whale. Perhaps, fearing that all could go wrong if they follow the wrong path, take the wrong road, these fishfolk discples-to-be take the chance on following God by following Jesus. Somehow they know in the core of their being that following Jesus is the way to go. In fact they come to learn that following Jesus is the not only the way to go, BUT the way to LET GO. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians speaks of the many expectations that we must let go of. Following God often means we must leave behind the ways in which we have become settled and complacent, overly comfortable, and set in our expectations. In the process of letting go - the disciples, the people in Corinth, and the people of Ninevah – all find their true path, the way to God.

This year we are focusing ourselves on what it means to be disciples – to follow God. The Gospel of Mark will give us clues even as it begs the question, “Where is God?” We have talked about finding God in and through the various things we do. We have considered the ways in which we find God in other people and the ways in which we are the hands and heart of Christ, we are the love of God made manifest in the world.

Today you will find the annual parish report ready for you to take and read. The booklet is filled with reports from the various commissions and committees of the parish on the work we have done over the last year. It’s a record of the fine ministries that take place at Christ Church, of the way in which we strive to turn and follow God.

Next week we will have one service at 10am followed by the annual meeting. At that meeting we will elect new vestry members, hear the report on our finances and budget, and have the opportunity to thank the outgoing vestry members. In addition we will thank T.H. for her years serving as the Chair of the Finance Committee. It will be a time of celebration and thanks giving for all the blessings of this parish. It is a wonderful life, after all, and each of us really do make a difference in the lives of others.

So, as you prepare for the meeting next week, and as we prepare for the year ahead, remember our readings today and their call to discipleship. Even if it doesn’t mean abandoning everything you have known, how might following Jesus come to mean something new in your life?

A Hunger for God

2012-01-14T16:02:00.001-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Epiphany 2: First Samuel 3:1-10 and John 1:43-51

The Hunger Games, is the first book in a trilogy of books based on a time some 100 years in the future. Following the apocalypse and a complete collapse of the world as we know it a new country rises up in North America. Instead of the United States there are twelve districts, all tightly controlled by the Capital, and each focused on the natural resources of the district. Most of the districts are very poor, a few have ample resources. In order to remind the districts that they are under the strong arm of the President and Capital, the Hunger Games are held once a year. The games, looking like something out of reality television and the Olympics, requires each district to randomly select one boy and one girl, called “TRIBUTES,” between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to compete in the games. The Hunger Games are a survival of the fittest battle through extreme wilderness experiences with only one person, one tribute, allowed to win. All of the children competitors must battle each other and the elements until one remains, with the entire event being televised. Everyone in every district is required to watch the games. The district with the winning child receives notoriety, extra food, and benefits for a year, until the next Hunger Games.

Katniss, the lead character in the series, is a sixteen year old girl from District 12, a poor coal mining district. Following the death of her father from a coal mining accident, Katniss becomes the family caretaker – hunting for meat and collecting berries to support her mother and younger sister. She adores her sweet younger sister, Primrose.

Here is an excerpt from the book, with Katniss as the narrator, as the town prepares to learn who will be the tributes from their district:

“It’s time for the first drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, ‘Ladies first!’ and crosses to the big glass bowl with the girl’s names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a piece of paper. The crowd draws a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me….Effie….reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose….There must be some mistake. This can’t be happening. Prim has her name on one piece of paper in thousands! Her chances of being chosen are so remote that I haven’t even bothered to worry about her…..with one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me. ‘I volunteer! I gasp, I volunteer as tribute!”

It is no surprise that when the younger sister is chosen to be the tribute Katniss insists on going in her place. Take me, she proclaims. The story that unfolds is gripping, moving, and challenging to read.

Our readings this morning all focus on the idea of being chosen by God, called to serve God, and our response to that call. The readings offer us a number of ways in which people hear God’s call and follow, reflecting that each of us is called, in different ways, and each of us responds in our own way.

Samuel, although a small boy, is called to become a "trustworthy prophet of the Lord." The Gospel of John tells the story of Philip and Nathanael leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. These readings connect to the theme of the Gospel for this year – “Where is God?” with the idea that God chooses to be made known in and through us.

None of us has the exact same call from God, each call is unique to who we are. Which reminds me of this story:

A rabbi named Zusya died and went to stand before the judgment seat of God. As he waited for God to appear, he grew nervous thinking about his life and how little he had done. He began to imagine that God was going to ask him, "Why weren't you Moses or why weren't you Solomon or why weren't you David?" But when God appeared, the rabbi was surprised. God simply asked, "Why weren't you Zusya?"

How are we to become fully who God calls us to be? Samuel reminds us that God calls both children and adults. God’s call might come as a whisper, or small voice in the night, as a dream, a thought, an idea, or something said to us by another person. God’s call comes in and through the context of all the voices in our lives.

And so, sometimes we need help discerning which voice is the authentic voice of God. Samuel seeks the guidance of Eli. People discerning a call to ordained ministry need to have that call confirmed by a community of people who, after spending a number of weeks and months in prayer and conversation, can affirm a call or redirect the person toward another understanding of their call. Each of us has a calling, and for many of us it manifests in the work we do every day, whether that is our paid profession, our volunteer work, or our role as a parent or grandparent, lawyer, doctor, nurse, or teacher.

Martin Luther King, Jr. whose feast day we celebrate today, knew his call from God. A minister and an activist for social justice, particularly as one who spoke out against racism and prejudice, Dr. King literally put his life on the line to follow God. Unlike the Hunger Games where one person survives, King worked hard for the survival of people of color – for all of society to recognize the inherent value of all human beings – loved by God and worthy of equal opportunities in all avenues of life. Dr. King points us to consider how our call, like his call, is a movement toward the fulfillment of the kingdom of God, or what it means to love God, love self, and love others. Our call may not look as extreme or as intense as his, but that doesn’t mean it is less important to the kingdom of God.

Bruce Epperly, an author and Spiritual Director suggests that our call is a “call to adventure – to see God everywhere, to experience God in our daily lives, to honor embodiment, and welcome revelation whenever and wherever it occurs…In the questioning, inspired by a sense of holiness in all moments and all creatures, we will discover God’s voice amid the voices….
Katherine Hawker at liturgyoutside.net wrote this prayer, A Litany of Call:

A child once dreamed the Voice was calling his name… 'Samuel';
Fisherman once heard the Voice when a young man bid them follow;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me.

Moses protested vehemently as the Voice spoke at the burning bush;
Mary stood amazed as the Voice proclaimed impending birth;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me.

Rosa Parks followed the Voice to the front of the bus;
Martin Luther King, Jr. heard the Voice as the bullet shattered;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me….

A timid believer pauses to listen to the Voice;
A struggling church hears the Voice and turns;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?

Listen. The Voice is calling you, too…

Building A Bridge to God

2012-01-07T16:00:00.001-06:00

Rabbi Jeffery Salkin, author of numerous books on Judaism, and rabbi of Temple Israel in Columbus, Georgia, tells this story in his book, “Being God’s Partner,”…

“A few years ago, a young taxi driver drove me to John F. Kennedy Airport, on Long Island. After a few minutes of conversation, I discovered that Mike had belonged to my synagogue years before I came to the community.

‘So, rabbi,’ he asked, while we sat in heavy traffic, ‘What do you say to a Jew like me who hasn’t been to a synagogue since his bar mitzvah ceremony?’
Thinking a moment, I realized that in Hassidic lore, the baal aqalah (the wagon driver) is an honored profession. So I said, ‘We could talk about your work.’

‘What does my work have to do with religion?’

‘Well, we choose how we look at the world and at life. You’re a taxi driver. But you are also a piece of the tissue that connects all humanity. You’re taking me to the airport. I’ll go to a different city and give a couple of lectures that might touch or help or change someone. I couldn’t have gotten there without you. You help make that connection happen.’

‘I heard you on your two-way radio after you drop me off, you’re going to pick up a woman from the hospital and take her home. That means that you’ll be the first non-medical person she encounters after being in a hospital. You will be a small part of her healing process, an agent in her re-entry into the world of health.’

‘You may then pick up someone from the train station who has come home from seeing a dying parent. You may take someone to the house of the one he or she will ask to join in marriage. You’re a connector, a bridge builder. You’re one of the unseen people who make the world work as well as it does. That is holy work. You may not think of it this way, but yours is a sacred mission.”

We have just celebrated the birth of Christ, the incarnation of God, Emmanuel, of the one who has come to live among us, the Word made flesh. We celebrated the sacred occasion of naming this holy one, Jesus – that was our worship service last Sunday. And today, in the Gospel of Mark we hear that the child is already grown, and is being baptized in the river Jordan. His ministry as the Holy One, his sacred work, in the Gospel of Mark begins – for the Holy Spirit descended upon him like a dove – and we hear that he is God’s beloved. Jesus is the bridge builder for us, the way in which God comes to know us more deeply and we come to know God.

The Holy Spirit, the active energy of God is manifesting God’s desire into the baptism of Jesus, into the world, into our lives, in and through us. And, by virtue of our baptism, the Holy Spirit infuses us with her energy, guides our work, and enables us to partner with God. The Holy Spirit is means by which the bridge is built between humanity and God.

It is God who has chosen us, chosen to let our hands be God’s hands, to let our feet take us where God desires, and put into our mouths the words of compassion that God would have us say. But, though it be God’s desire it still require us to respond, to do, to act, to participate with God.

The Acts of the Apostles gives us a glimpse into the life of the early church and the mystical reality of God acting in creation and the response of humanity to God. Into that glimpse this morning we find St. Paul baptizing a group of people in Ephesus, and we hear that the, “Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke…” This is the power of the Holy Spirit, God’s desire becoming active in us, motivating us to action, into crossing the bridge.

Maxine F. Dennis, in her reflection titled, “Of Human Hands” wrote,

“Cashiering in a supermarket may not seem like a very rewarding position to most. But to me it is. You see, I feel that my job consists of a lot more than ringing up orders, taking people’s money, and bagging their groceries. The most important part of my job is not the obvious. Rather it’s the manner in which I present myself to others that will determine whether my customers will leave the store feeling better or worse because of their brief encounter with me. For by doing my job well I know I have a chance to do God’s work too. Because of this, I try to make each of my customers feel special. While I’m serving them, they become the most important people in my life.”

The most important work we do each day is to consider how we are doing God’s work by living into our baptismal covenant – how we are loving God, loving self, and loving others. How we are working toward justice and the dignity of all people, how we are treating everyone as we wish to be treated. How we encounter Christ in one another, in friend and stranger alike.

Each of us spends our time doing holy work, a sacred mission. You may not think of it that way, whatever it is you do with each day, but it is. It is sacred because every day you encounter other human beings in some capacity, whether the person is your neighbor or a stranger in the grocery store, a colleague at work or a friend in school, every day we encounter others – and in that process, how we treat others is a measure of our engagement in the sacred work of God.

Bruce Epperly, a noted author and spiritual director offers this on the Process and Faith Blog:

“Mark’s Gospel describes Jesus’ baptism, but God’s words to Jesus reflect God’s care for our lives (as beloved of God)… While sacraments awaken us to God’s love, they don’t define the scope of God’s love. In the interplay of divine call and human response, sacramental moments – (which make obvious the mystery of God’s grace and love occur with the potential that they) may lead to life-transforming experiences…. each day can be a celebration of our baptism…an opportunity for renewal, refreshment, transformation, and cleansing…”

During this year, as we read and reflect on the Gospel of Mark we will be pondering the question Mark asks – “Where is God?” – and the response will be varied. Sometimes we will encounter God in one another. Other times we encounter God in a moment of time or in the words of a complete stranger. All of these encounters with God will happen, whether we notice them or not. Today’s passage from Acts suggests that we should be on the lookout for these mystical experiences, sacramental opportunities, in which we can, through the power of the Holy Spirit, make visible signs of the invisible grace of God desire in our lives.

A Christmas Story

2011-12-24T15:59:00.001-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

A friend of mine is fond of telling a story about her life and then concluding with, “That’s my story and I’m sticking with it!”

The other night my husband, son, and I were watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, the version that came in 2000 with Jim Carry as the Grinch. Several times we remarked that they changed the story, a lot, in order to make a full length movie out of it. It is significantly different from the version I saw as a child. Then our son said, this is the only version of the story he remembers. Same story, two versions…

Tom Satre told the following story to the Sitka (Alaska) Gazette: he was out with a charter group on his 62 foot fishing vessel when four juvenile black-tailed deer swam directly toward his boat. “Once the deer reached the boat,’ he said, ‘ the four began to circle the boat, looking directly at us. We could tell right away that the young bucks were distressed.

I opened up my back gate and we helped the typically skittish and absolutely wild animals onto the boat. In all my years fishing, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

Once on board, the deer collapsed with exhausting, shivering. We headed for Taku Harbour. Once we reached the dock the first buck we had pulled from the water hopped onto the dock, looked back as if to say, ‘Thank-you,’ and disappeared into the forest.

After some prodding and assistance, two more followed, but the smallest deer needed a bit more help. (for which he was put into a wheel barrow and transported from the boat to the dock).

Finally, with the help of three humans, the last buck got to its feet and ran off to join the others. …”

This true story appeared on Facebook last week with a link to some amazing photos that accompany the story.

In response, other people shared similar stories of animal and human interactions that break open our expectations of the normal way that humans and animals interact. The beauty of these stories is that they remind us that there is a thin line between creation, human beings, and the God who created all of us. And sometimes that line dissolves and we see the world as God might see it. A world called to live in harmony and peace, with grateful hearts for all the blessings and gifts of life.

On this most holy of nights/days we celebrate the reality that God is with us. In the mystery that is God, God has chosen to dwell in and within all creation, and most particularly in human life. This is our Christian story, of God active in the world through the birth of Jesus. It is story that reminds us that how we live our lives reveals the fullness of God in the world – particularly when we live with compassion, kindness, gentleness, and love toward all.

The Christmas story in our culture, of Santa, and presents under the tree, looks very different from the story we hear tonight. No doubt the culture Christmas is fun, and good for the economy, but we diminish the true Christmas story when we place too great an emphasis on Black Friday and record breaking holiday sales.

I have had Christmas’s when I could not afford to buy a single gift. I know what it feels like when the Christmas I am celebrating is not the Christmas our culture describes. Radio, television, newspapers, grocery stores and shopping malls try to tell us that our greatest joy is found through purchasing, wrapping, and opening presents. Truth be told, I like to shop as much as anyone, and I enjoy giving and receiving presents. So, the year we couldn’t buy gifts challenged me to explore the meaning of Christmas while overcoming depression and sorrow over the circumstances of life, and make my peace with it.

The true gift of Christmas cannot be placed into a box and wrapped with paper and ribbon and bows. In that regard, both versions of the Grinch, tell that part of the story. That Christmas is found in the heart.

And, as Christians, the true gift of Christmas is made manifest in the one whose life we celebrate, the one who comes as the fullness of God’s love, to walk with us through this journey of life. To be with us in our joys and our sorrows, to be ever present in our life story.

Even when life is at its most challenging, whether we are crazy busy, or feeling bleak and hopeless, or excited, or bored, or whatever life feels like - we can, with a little intentionality, recognize the gift of life and the presence of God’s abiding love for us in every aspect of the Christmas story. It’s true that often God’s abiding love for us is made manifest in a simple act of kindness that you extend to someone, or they extend to you.

Into the darkness of a winter’s night, God gave all creation God’s most precious gift of love, Emmanuel – God with us, the Incarnation, the birth of Christ. The mystery of the Christmas story, of that precious gift of love, is a paradox – for the dark night is the source and the place of new life, of love, of God manifesting the fullness of God’s self into the world, as a humble, vulnerable, human baby.

In this Christmas season, let the compassion of God fill you with hope. May you recognize, in your life’s story, the gift of how deeply God loves you, just the way you are.

That’s my Christmas story, and I’m sticking with it.

Merry Christmas.

Tender Time

2011-12-19T15:55:00.000-06:00

Goodness. Here we are, Advent Four, already!

I find that the season of Advent has flown by – from that first Sunday after Thanksgiving and the Sunday’s following when we celebrated the Rite 13 service and welcomed two young men into adulthood, and last Sunday with the flurry of celebration and activity that always accompanies a Bishop’s visit. Parish life has been full of celebration. It has also been a time of healing and tending to those who are ill. As it happens in life we have had a number of critically ill people this month, thankfully most of them are on the mend. We have E.P., who died yesterday after a long battle with leukemia and Alzheimer’s. All this busy-ness seems inevitable in Advent, a season in which we are called, paradoxically, to be still, to be quiet, to reflect on the various ways we come to know Christ in our lives.

Unexpectedly, I found myself, last night, sitting in silence. No television. No radio. No music playing. Sitting in the living room with the Christmas tree lights on, the gentle sound of the flames lapping in the fireplace, my dogs shifting on the area rug, the cat purring at my side. It was delightful to just sit and be still.

Where are you, at this point in the Advent season? Have you had more silence and solitude than you care for? Or are you, like me, overflowing with activity, yearning for a quiet moment to catch your breath? Take a moment, just to breathe…. Close your eyes, if you wish. Or pull out the piece of paper in the center of your bulletin and doodle, or write a note of gratitude on the abundance card in the pew rack. Just be still. After a moment of silence, I am going to share a short reflection by Caryll Houselander.

“When a woman is carrying a child she develops a certain instinct of self-defense. It is not selfishness; it is not egoism. It is an absorption into the life within, a folding of the self like a little tent around the child’s frailty, a God-like instinct to cherish, and some day to bring forth, the life. A closing upon it like the petals of a flower closing upon the dew that shines in its heart. This is precisely the attitude we must have to Christ, the life within us, in the Advent of our contemplation.
By his own will Christ was dependent on Mary during Advent: he was absolutely helpless; he could go nowhere but where she chose to take him; he could not speak; her breathing was his breath; his heart beat in the beating of her heart. Today Christ is dependent upon us.

This dependence of Christ lays a great trust upon us. During this tender time of Advent we must carry him in our hearts to where he wants to go, and there are many places to which he may never go unless we take him to them.” (The Reed of God by Caryll Houselander)

Houselander, known as a Christian mystic, was born in the early 1900’s and became a prolific writer and artist. Most of her writing speaks of Christ within each of us –ordinary, broken, imperfect, challenged, human beings.
The season of Advent is a time to ponder how it is that Christ is in and within us. Our reading this morning from Luke reminds us that God made a home in the body of Mary. Her willingness to birth God into the world brought forth the means by which God comes to heal us, to love us, to be present in and through our lives. Houselander reminds us that just as God resided in Mary, so God chooses to reside in us, that we can be the means through which God’s love continues to be poured into the world. Let us be attentive to God’s love in our breath, in our words, and in our actions.

May it be a tender time.

Taking Comfort in Angry Birds and other things that call me to pay attention

2011-12-05T15:50:00.000-06:00

One of my favorite games on my old cell phone was Bejeweled – a puzzle game played by matching three colored jewels in a row. I was sad to learn that there is not a version of Bejeweled that will play on my new cell phone, nor on my iPad. So I’ve been on the search for mind games, other than solitaire. Many people recommend the game, Angry Birds. I have resisted this game, mostly because I didn’t like the title – Angry Birds – not wanting to endorse violence, even cartoon violence. So, I refused to get this game. Refused that is until the other night when I found a free version of it, and became instantly hooked on the game – finding it endlessly amusing. Essentially the puzzle offers a tower built of various materials – glass, wood, concrete – and within the tower are pigs, often dressed like construction workers. To the side is a huge sling shot from which one propels birds into the tower. The sound effects include the birds squealing with delight as they fly through the air, a resounding clunk as they crash, and the sound of falling debris. The silly cartoon effects are amusing. Within 24 hours Dan and I had played through all the levels of the free version, and we are now faced with the dilemma of actually purchasing a version.

A recent discussion on the internet focused on the portrayal of violence in books, on television, and in movies – and the potential that being confronted with violence is desensitizing us to real pain and harm. On the other hand hearing the stories of human beings who have lived through tragedy, like the stories told in the Women, War, and Peace, series, has the potential to deepen our awareness and enhance our compassion.

Our reading this morning from Isaiah is just such a story - the people have survived a tragedy and are coming to a new place of hope and healing. The book of Isaiah is an ancient text written by three different authors over the course of several hundred years. It tells the story of the people of Israel subject to violent wars by the super powers of the day – first the Assyrian Empire in the 8th century BCE, then the Babylonian Empire that dominated the country and enslaved the residents, and lastly the Persian Empire, who under the leadership of Cyrus, enabled the people of Israel to establish their own nation, Judah. But within this story of three hundred years of war, slavery, and violence, is a story about the faithfulness of God. God never leaves, never abandons the people.

This morning’ s reading comes at the end of the rule of Babylon and the beginning of the Persian Empire – or, about a 160 year gap between the events described in chapter 39 and the events in chapter 40. All the while the people of Israel have been slaves in Babylon, but are now finding themselves freed. Comfort, O comfort my people, cries God in the opening verses. Speak tenderly; know that God is present in the midst of trauma, violence, and suffering. God lives through the bleakness with us, holding us in God’s embrace and love. God’s calls each of us to be present to the suffering of others, to show compassion and love. God calls us to be the gentle encourager – reminding others that sometimes all one can do is take the next breath, or walk the next step – but that that is enough. Each moment in time takes whatever it takes to live through, a breath, a step, a hand to hold, the quiet presence of another, just being there. Comfort, O comfort my people, cries God.

Thinking about love, compassion, and the enduring presence of God reminds me of a book by Anita Diamant called, "Day after Night." This is a fictionalized story about four women, refugees from World War II Nazi invasions. The four women of this story: Tedi, Zorah, Shayndel, and Leonie all come from different places in the war – bound by virtue of their survival. Zorah is the only one of the four to have spent time in a concentration camp, Tedi was hidden in the Dutch country side, Shayndel, a Polish Zionist fought with the partisans, and Leonie was forced into prostitution in Paris. Each wonders how they survived when others they love did not. The book tells the story of the hard work required to recover from a trauma so intense they cannot even speak of it, let alone comprehend it. It’s a story of the work it takes to remember the past while moving into the future. It’s a story of rediscovering kindness, of holding in tandem love and grief, of comforting one another, of friendship. It’s a beautiful story of an agonizing journey from despair and brokenness toward hope, and a new life. Comfort, O Comfort my people, cries God.

Today’s reading from Isaiah reminds us that God commands us to be present with others, to be a source of compassion, kindness, love, and support. And it gives us clues how to do this – because God is present and doing these very acts within human life and suffering. What God is doing, and what we are called to do is: be present with others in their suffering. We are not called to solve the problems of others as much as we are called to listen and to be present. God’s call to compassion invites us to sit with the person, to hold their hand, and to be present without judgment. We are to speak tenderly, without condemnation or placing any kind of value statement on the condition of a person’s life, why and how they got there.

Sometimes the condition of our lives and the source of our suffering is the direct result of our own actions – and at other times it is the result of the actions of other human beings. And, so we are also called to examine our own lives and consider how our actions may be contributing to the suffering of others. We are called to consider how we are acting in ways that serve the well-being of all humanity, as an act of participating in God’s justice.

Never is our suffering the result of God doling out punishment or inflicting pain, disease, or disaster.

We are to remind others that God is present, God is faithful, and even when all signs are to the contrary, God is with us. And lastly we are to remember that God is actively working to transform the suffering and the tragedy of our individual lives, and the world, into new life, into hope, through God’s mercy and grace.

In a few moments we will celebrate a Rite 13 service, welcoming into adulthood, two members of our congregation – George and John. Over the years, as these boys have grown in faith and in age, we have helped to shape them, form and inform them as young men of faith. Today we celebrate that formation and welcome them into the next stages of their faith development as they grow into young men. It is our hope that they will continue to take on leadership roles in the church and that they will continue to be examples of God’s compassion in the world around us through their words and actions. Let each of us remember that we are the living hands and heart of Christ in the world, and what we say and do matters.

And so, perhaps it is less an issue of what books we read, music we listen too, movies we watch, or computer games we play, rather it is a matter of how we allow them to shape us – will be become insensitive and callous? Or will we understand more deeply and become more compassionate? Comfort, O comfort my people, says our God. Let us go and do likewise.

An apprentice to the ordinary....

2011-11-27T16:03:00.000-06:00

Looking out across the field and yard behind the church, what was once ripe with vegetables, leaves and flowers, the bare trees offer up an open sky and the land lays fallow. Even the ground is cleared of fallen leaves. The garden has been harvested, cleared out, and tilled, so it can rest until planting begins next spring. The grass, still green is heading into its dormant season. I find myself spending less time outside, more inclined to sit by the fire or read in doors than take a walk or ride my bike. Fall is heading straight into winter, and snow is in the forecast.

Personally I delight in the changing seasons. I love that the darkness of night comes early. I feel compelled to bake cookies, drink hot tea, and curl up with a book or a new knitting project. This time of year fills me with anticipation as I wonder what the winter will be like. How many heavy snow storms will we have? How cold will it get? How long will it last. This anticipation comes to me anew every winter with equal parts excitement for the first snow and dread, knowing that the cold and snow always over stay their welcome. Winter is a quiet season when the earth lies still, just waiting to burst forth again with new life.

And, like the seasons of the calendar year, we have seasons of the church, the liturgical year. Today marks the first Sunday of the church year and the season of Advent has begun. Advent is a season of waiting, of the deep darkness of night, a season that holds the promise of new life and hope. This is a season of candle light and the fragrant scent of pine. The color of Advent is sometimes purple, attaching it in a similar way to Lent, as if it were also a penitential season. But more often, it is blue season, blue for the dark night sky. Advent is a season that ushers in a time of waiting, expectantly, for the birth of Christ, for the Word made flesh, for God who comes as a human baby, it is a season of anticipation. A season of darkness like a womb anticipating new life. A season of darkness, like soil nurturing the roots of trees, digging deeper into the earth. Advent invites us to ponder how and where, in the year ahead, we might see signs of new life, signs of the Christ child in our lives and the world around us. Advent invites us to wait expectantly like a heavy with child, waits to give birth. Like Mary, the mother of God, anticipating new life.

Advent launches the new liturgical year for the church and brings with it a new Gospel which will focus our reflections on God in a particular way for the year ahead. Last year we heard the story of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew. The Matthean community wrestled with the reality that Jesus, as the Messiah, is the fulfillment of the Law of Moses. And, therefore what it means for a Christian to Love God, Love self, and Love others. The Gospel of Mark will point us in a similar direction – but with distinctive differences.

The Gospel of Mark is believed to be the oldest of the four gospels. Scholars think it was written in Rome, in a Jewish community addressing a mostly Gentile region, sometime around the late ‘60’s – or about 30 years after the death of Jesus. Given the content in this Gospel, scholars believe this text was written before the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem but during a time of mounting persecution of Jews by the Roman government.

Reflecting the experience of persecution today’s reading has a tone of terror and fear. It comes toward the end of the Gospel, chapter 13 out of 16 chapters. It points the reader toward the crucifixion, toward the end, and is apocalyptic in tone. This reading like the gospel itself intend for us to understand how , like winter leads to spring, dying leads to new life/ Suffering is a birth process that enables that new life to come forth.

As the earliest gospel put into written text the Gospel according to Mark may have been created simply to have a record of the oral tradition in order that the stories would not be lost. The Markan gospel may have been written to counter a number of heresies – false teachings – that were cropping up about Jesus and his life and ministry. It very well may have been written to counter the tragedy of the crucifixion and argue for a theology that reconciles that violent death with the intentions of God – how the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is a success story not a tragedy ending in a violent crucified death. But most likely it was written in order to show how God is active, for our sake, in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. (From Westminster Bible S Companion, Douglas A, Hare) (and, from Karoline Lewis at working preacher) Mark's theology, is a theology that first and foremost asks, “Where do we find God?”

The primary point of this Gospel, in asking us, “Where do we find God,” is to then ask us to consider the question of discipleship and ask ourselves, as followers of Jesus, “What must I do?”
Our theme this year, the theme that has focused our conversations on Stewardship and prodded me in my reflections in the newsletter, is, “Discipleship, What does that mean?” This theme comes in part from the reality that all of the Gospels are calling us to be followers of Jesus, and that through Jesus we will come to know God in a particular way, and are therefore called to act. Pondering discipleship in the Gospel of Matthew pointed us to consider how we were living the greatest commandment to love God, self, and others. Discipleship in the Gospel according Mark uses a particular word that means discipleship but also means “learner” or an “apprentice.” This year, as we ponder this Gospel we will consider what it means to be a learner, an apprentice of Jesus.

The gospel will call us to reflect on how - following Jesus, as a disciple, a learner, an apprentice, means – feeding, healing, praying, and, caring for others. How discipleship is ordinary work, framed through the lens of understanding that this is what God is doing in and through the life of Jesus. It’s the ordinary work of compassion, which God asks of us, as well.

Eyes, Hands, and Heart, or What it means to have faith with feet...

2011-11-20T06:23:00.000-06:00

A reflection on Matthew 25:31-46

Many years ago, on the exit ramp of I-90/94 in Chicago, I encountered a woman with a sign saying something like, “Unemployed homeless mother with three kids. Need food and money.” A car or two stopped and offered money, but many cars drove by without stopping. With my two young children in the car I felt compelled to give her all the cash I had on me, it wasn’t much. I don’t know why I was so moved by this woman, maybe it was the first time I had seen a young mother asking for a handout? I thought of her many times over the years, and wondered how she was, although I didn't see her again for a very long time.

Some ten years after I first saw that woman on the exit ramp of the highway, I saw her again, with the same sign, asking for money. Ten years later and her life remained unchanged. Or so it seemed. I was startled and a bit dismayed.

A few years later a wild woman appeared at the church I was serving. It was during some event and the place was crowded. This woman, intense and a little abrupt, did not respond well when I told her we had nothing, no gift cards left. She stormed out making a bit of a scene. I was left feeling badly, as if Jesus had come to me and I had not cared for him.

I remember a sermon a friend of mine preached in seminary. She used two illustrations of people she had encountered in AA. One was a man who told a story about his homelessness and addiction, and how – because of the assistance of others giving him money and help – he was able to go into recovery and rebuild his life.

The other was a story of a man who, when homeless and actively alcoholic, no one gave him money or assistance. He hit rock bottom, and in his words, “no one enabled him to continue in his destructive behavior.” His realized life had to change, and from that desperate place he went into recovery and began to rebuild his life.
And so I ask myself this question, “Lord, what does it mean to see you? What does it mean to help?”

You remember this joke: There was a terrible flood and the people in the town were leaving in droves. One man stood in the doorway of his house watching the water rise. A women came by and offered him a pair of boots so he could walk with her through the flooded street to safety. “Oh, no,” he said,” God is going to rescue me.”

The waters rose and the man had to move up to the top of his stairs. A man in a row boat came by and offered him a ride in the boat to escape the waters. “Oh no” said the man, “God will rescue me.”

Soon the waters rose more and the man stood on the roof of his. A helicopter flew over and the crew called out to grab the rope ladder and climb up! But the man once again said that he was waiting for God to rescue him.

Unfortunately the man drowned in the flood. When he arrived at the pearly gates he said to God, “I thought you were going to save me!” And God said, “First I sent you a woman with boots, then a row boat, then a helicopter….”

Not only are we considering what it means to help, but also, what it means to see God. To see the face of Christ in one another and in the people we meet. And, what it means to know that at times we will fail to do this well, even when we are trying.

Jan Richardson, in her blog The Painted Prayerbook, offers this thought:

“….. I think of how my deepest regrets—what few I allow myself—are most often attached to occasions when I didn’t see. Didn’t know how to see, didn’t yet have the eyes for seeing. The realization of it—the dawning knowledge of where my vision was lacking—is itself a kind of punishment. But an invitation, too. To learn to look more closely. To take in what I have rushed past.
When was it that we saw you?”

(The Painted Prayerbook)

Today we celebrate the last Sunday after Pentecost, Christ the King Sunday, the Reign of Christ, and – as Christ Church – our “Feast of Title” day . It is the day we celebrate who we are and whose we are – We are Christ Church – shaped and formed by Christ, through baptism, through prayer and the Eucharist, through our relationships with others, through coming to this place, through a relationship with God and Christ, which gives us our identity as a people of faith. On this day we are invited to look carefully at who we are, and how we are living out our faith. It’s a call to do three things – to seek to be the hands and heart of Christ in the world, recognize how it is that Christ comes to us, and how we can be more attentive to being, doing, and seeing Christ.

As Christ Church we serve as the hands and heart of Christ in the world through all this food we are generously giving to Crossroads , not just today, but every week, so that others may have food on their table. As Christ Church we serve as the hands and heart of Christ when we participate in the soup kitchen at Spirit of Hope in Detroit. We are the hands and heart of Christ when we give of our treasure so that I can purchase gift cards to Kroger and offer those who come looking for assistance, a chance for some food or gas. As Christ Church we serve as the hands and heart of Christ when we open our doors and welcome the many groups who use our building. As Christ Church we serve as the hands and heart of Christ when we host the Alternative Market today – inviting in thirty artists and local vendors to sell their merchandise. We are not taking a penny in commission – we are offering people a free place to advertise and sell their art, food, and merchandise. (I hope a lot of people come and do their Christmas shopping! And that the artists and vendors have a good time here!). As Christ Church we are hosting this event, greeting people and working to ensure that everyone has a good time. Much work has gone into this event, from many different people. It seems appropriate that we have this event on this day, Christ the King, the Reign of Christ.

There are many ways that we see Christ in others and offer love, compassion, and a helping hand. There are many ways that Christ comes to us and invites us into a deeper relationship – whether it is through the people we know and meet here, or the music and worship we participate in, or some other experience we have.
Regardless of who attentive we are, there are always ways that we can deepen this experience. The liturgical seasons of the church year offer an opportunity to be mindful, attentive. Next Sunday we begin the season of Advent, a season that asks us to ponder how Christ is coming to us anew this year, and how we can be Christ to the world around us.

As we journey through Advent let’s be attentive, wondering -

Lord, when did we see you –
and -
when did we miss you?

No Country for the Status Quo in God's Reign

2011-11-13T18:21:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 28A: Matthew 15:14-30

A number of years ago the film, “No Country for Old Men” came up in the queue of my Netflicks orders and Dan and I set aside an evening to watch this film. It had already won two Golden Globes and four Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay and Best supporting actor. Directed by the Joel and Ethan Coen and starring Tommy Lee Jones, Woody Harrelson, Javier Bardem, and Kelly MacDonald, I anticipated an engaging, thought provoking film.

It’s the story about an ordinary person who discovers two million dollars in the middle of the desert of western Texas. Out for a ride on his horse the man inadvertently wanders into the aftermath of a drug deal gone horribly awry. When he decides to abscond with the cash a violent chain reaction is set in motion. The violence plays out through the hit man, who comes to retrieve the money, and decides the fate of his victims through a coin toss, heads or tails. Critics describe this movie as an examination of fate and circumstances.

Regardless of the numerous awards this film won, I did not like this bleak, violent, and depressing movie. Most of all I dislike it because the violence and corruption prevailed without an ounce of hope.

I am left feeling much same from the news this week. Abuse of young boys, abuse of women, the abuse of one doctor and his patient, and the tragic abuse of a music icon from his own addicted behavior, to occupy Wall Street, and the protests, justified or not, against greed and corruption - all of these stories, in one way or another, are examples of the perpetuation of denial, ignorance, and a blame the victim mentality. Add to these the stories of war and the efforts toward peace that we are learning about in the Women, War and Peace series on PBS, and all told, these unfolding events paint a dismal picture of our world today.

This dismal picture of the world today fits right in with the perspective portrayed in our readings from scripture.

In the Gospel of Matthew we have come to the third in a series of three parables. First, from Matthew 24:45, the story about a wicked slave who mistreats other slaves, then in Matthew 25, the story about the ten maidens, some of whom are prepared because they have oil for their lamps, and some who are not prepared and are left out, and then the story today about the slaves who invest the money given them. One slave turns his five “talents” into ten, the other turns his two talents into four, and the third who buried his one talent and returns only the one, saying; “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours.” And, as a result, this slave receives a thorough reprimand for being lazy. His one talent is given to the man who now has ten, with the master offering this rationale: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” The parable ends with the master’s command to throw this “worthless slave…into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

That’s harsh!

So, let’s take another look at the third servant. He knows his boss is wicked, evil, and greedy, and he calls him on it. Whereas the first two did exactly what was expected of them without question, the third person calls it like it is, has the courage to speak up against the corruption. This third person shows courage, integrity, and perhaps a reasonable sense of fear because he knows that he will be ostracized for speaking up and telling the truth.

Then, as now, human beings have a tendency to dislike truth tellers. It often seems easier to just hide or do what one is told to do, do the expected thing and keep quiet. Even if that means perpetuating acts of injustice.

Jan Richardson, on her blog, The Painted Prayerbook writes,

“I find myself wondering, why is it that we most often read this passage as a judgment against the third servant and not against the man who has perpetuated an unjust system? Do we really think that the harsh and reportedly corrupt master of this parable represents God, who, after a period of absence, comes back prepared to throw out those who have not performed as expected? Do I really want to be like the first two servants, willing to participate in and perpetuate injustice?

Much like the wise bridesmaids, the two multi-talented men serve as the foil for the one who proves inept and unprepared. One could say they are the suck-ups who provide a contrast to the screwup. We might wonder at a parable that presents a narrative ecosystem in which the only available choices seem to lie either in perpetuating the master’s corrupt business plan or hiding his loot in the ground.”

Of course we may wonder, are these two choices the only options – perpetuate the corruption or hide? In each of these stories there is a character who chooses to be passive, unwilling to take responsibility, foolish. Which reminds me, again, of the news stories this week. People unwilling to take action, or look for other options, that will enable justice to come forth.

When we hoard, hide, and cling to what feels safe and comfortable we contain God and ultimately limit the fullness of our own lives. When live passively we limit the fullness of our lives and contain God. We can see examples of how these limitations play out in the tragedies of the world around us. People who, for lack of taking risks and acting for justice, have had their lives ruined, not to mention the lives of others who would have benefited from someone speaking up and taking action on their behalf.
This parable calls us to examine and then remove the barriers to our lives. To take seriously God’s call to us. Last week when we renewed our baptismal covenant we were reminded what God’s call to us is:

Will you continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

To each of these questions we answered, “I will with God’s help.” Even in our context, in the interfaith culture of Dearborn and this church, where we strive to live with integrity for self and others, where we actively work at hospitality and kindness, and what it really means to love our neighbor, even for us, there are ways we could live with a more expansive awareness of justice and respect for the dignity of everyone.

My friend, Janine in a reflection she wrote on our readings today, ask this:

“Have we acted justly toward God and others? Have we used everything God has given us, not just our money, but our whole selves, wisely and well?”

Because ultimately living that way, completely spent in acts of compassion and justice, having used everything God has given us, is the only hope we have.

Too Small for Anything But Love

2011-10-31T07:38:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 26A: Joshua 3:7-14

There is a point in time, in the late afternoon, when the light in the church is particularly beautiful. This time of year the sun, moving south on the horizon, pours in through the stained glass windows. Colored beams of light reflect off the walls with a vibrancy that takes my breath away. This sacred space of prayer, embraced in a mosaic of light.

The first mosaics were made in Mesopotamia, twenty five hundred years before Christ. They were decorative embellishments of terra cotta or mother of pearl. The art died out but reappeared in ninth century Greece as floor decoration. Geometric designs of pebbles were cheaper than rugs. Floor mosaics told stories. Before long the pebbles gave way to cut stone, enabling greater detail in the design. Over time this art form spread from Greece to Turkey and Egypt. Some of the finest examples of mosaics were unearthed from the ruins of Pompeii, buried under the destruction of the volcano Vesuvius in the year 79. In the fourth century the Christian emperor Constantine lifted mosaics from the floor to the ceiling, with colored glass replacing the stone.

In churches, mosaics became the Bible for everyday human beings. One did not need to know how to read nor did one need to rely on words, instead the story was told in images of colored glass.

Terry Tempest Williams, in her book, Finding Beauty in a Broken World, begins with a reflection on mosaic. She is in Italy learning the art of creating mosaics – of carefully placing stone next to stone until it tells a story in picture. From creating mosaics in Italy Williams takes us to Bryce Canyon Utah, where she is studying prairie dogs, and then she takes us to Rwanda, where she is helping a group of artists work with a small village to rebuild after the genocide of 1994. Williams weaves together these three disparate stories into one compelling reflection on life, violence, and hope.

As an author, Williams is an advocate for justice, for healthy relationships between the environment and humankind. Finding Beauty in a Broken World is written in short paragraphs, like meditations in a journal. She reflects on how the natural world and the human world collide and connect in violence and in beauty. From the violence of broken glass and stone, a mosaic, beauty, is created. She writes with gentle emotion, about the intersection between arrogance and empathy, tumult and peace, constructing a narrative of hope.

She says:

“Mosaic celebrates brokenness and beauty being brought together…..A mosaic is a conversation between what is broken. “

Over the last five weeks we have celebrated the Season of Creation, a liturgical invitation to reflect on the world around us and our role as God’s partners in creation. Now we return to the season after Pentecost, also known as Ordinary Time, and to the scripture readings assigned for Sunday mornings. As we reflected on Genesis and stories of land and water, the readings from the Ordinary Time lectionary moved through the story of Exodus. When we left it, six weeks ago, the Israelites had crossed the Red Sea, finding new life as a people freed from slavery. The story continued, revealing their struggle as they wandered for forty years in the wilderness. There were stories of hunger and complaining, of Moses going up the mountain to receive the ten commandments, and then last week, with the promised land in sight, Moses dies, never stepping foot on the land he worked so hard to get too. Now, in this reading today from Joshua, we hear of the people preparing to enter the promised land. It’s a story, on the one hand, of a people preparing for war – to conquer the Canaanites who live in this land. And on the other hand it’s a story of God’s presence. Leaving us to wonder what this means to us. Where is God in the midst of war, violence, and brokenness?

A group of us in the parish gather every Monday or Tuesday night to watch video recordings of the PBS series, Women, War, and Peace. This five part series tells stories about the violence of war, in particular the violence waged against women. It is often painful to watch. But these are also stories of women taking control of an egregious situation and transforming it into hope. One story portrayed the women who testified at The Hague in 2001, the first time rape was condemned as a war crime, and the perpetrators were convicted of this crime. Another story showed women, both Christian and Muslim, uniting in a stance of peaceful prayer, to end the violence of war in their country. A powerful story of non-violent action, led by mothers, grandmothers, and daughters, insisting that the violence end, using only the power of their presence and the power of prayer. This week we will hear the story of women in Afghanistan.

These true stories are like mosaics, out of brokenness comes hope, and the possibility of healing, transformation, and sometimes, forgiveness. They are powerful, beautiful stories.

Sometimes, in the midst of war, people will claim that God is on their side. Certainly that is the lens through which this story in Joshua is told – God, it seems, stands with the Israelites and supports their battle against the Canaanites. But maybe it’s really a story of how we humans want to believe that God is behind our actions. Early Europeans, arriving in this country used the same argument against those who lived here first – claiming that the they were bringing civilization and a just society and a proper religion to the “natives” – a claim that justified violence to oppress people and force them into submission…not to mention the countless other examples we could site where humans claim God endorses their acts of violence.

A social justice perspective of God offers us another perspective, reminding us that God has given us free will. With the gift of free will we humans are free to decide how we will behave. The gift of free-will reframes for us a common biblical phrase, the one where God says, “I am with you.” Free will, considered from this perspective, tells us that God is with us, but that does not mean that God endorses everything we do. In this perspective, a just God journeys with us, hoping that we will align our lives and all we do with what God desires.

Over the last five weeks the Gospel of Matthew has told stories of Jesus being tested by the Pharisees, who want to catch him in an act of treason so he can be arrested. The Pharisees are challenged by Jesus, to change their selfish ways. Last week, had we been following the regular lectionary readings, we would have heard the Pharisees asking Jesus a crucial question: “Lord, which commandment is the greatest?”

This is trick question. In the Bible there are 613 commandments. Regardless of which commandment Jesus claims as the greatest the Pharisees are prepared to argue against him.
Jesus deftly side steps the trap – he responds: “You shall love the Lord your God. This is the greatest commandment, and the second is like it, You shall love your neighbor as your self. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

In other words, Jesus summarizes the intent and content of all 613 commandments into these two. What God desires is that we, love God, love self, and love others!

Toward the end of the book, Finding Beauty in a Broken World, the author quotes the famous William Sloane Coffin, a Presbyterian minister and peace activist. Perhaps his words are words to live by, he said: “The world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for anything but love.”

Listen, You Just Might Hear

2011-10-25T06:58:00.002-05:00

A reflection the readings for Season Of Creation 5A:

The 1992 film, “A River Runs Through It”, directed by Robert Redford, and starring Tom Skillet, Brad Pitt, and Craig Sheffer, tells the story of two fly-fishermen brothers. They are sons of a Presbyterian minister living in rural Montana. The film opens with this:

My father was a Presbyterian minister...and a fly-fisherman. Though it is true that one day a week was given over wholly to religion...even then he told us about Christ's disciples being fishermen. And we were left to assume, as my younger brother Paul and I did...that all first-class fishermen on the Sea of Galilee were fly-fishermen...and that John, the favorite, was a dry fly-fisherman.

In the afternoon, we would walk with him...while he unwound between services. He almost always chose a path along the Big Blackfoot...which we considered our family river. It was there he felt his soul restored and his imagination stirred.

Long ago rain fell on mud and became rock. Halt a billion years ago. But even before that,
beneath the rocks...are the words of God.

Listen.

And if Paul and I listened very carefully all our lives...we might hear those words.

Listen. The word of God running like a river beneath and through all creation. The word of God, a river of life. The word of God, like water that brings forth life, birthing all creation into being.

The Book of Genesis offers us two stories of creation. In the first story water existed before light. In the second story the garden of Eden rose from a stream of water. In Exodus the Israelites are born anew through the Red Sea waters – reminding us that life often calls us to navigate through challenging waters into new life. Many Bible stories take place at a well including the longest conversation Jesus has in his meeting of the Samaritan Woman at the well – all of these reinforce our sense that from water comes life.

Human life begins in water.

However, not only does life come from water, but water can also take life. Many ancient cultures have stories of a great flood, like this story of Noah in today’s reading from Genesis.

And, water renews life. People travel to bodies of water for rest, renewal, vacation, family and community. Whether lakes, rives, swimming pools, or bubbling fountains in local parks, humans are drawn to the soothing quality of water. When I lived in the desert, the swimming pool in our backyard afford relief – soothing my eye from the stark landscape of sand and prickly cactus, soothing my spirit and body from the 100+ temperatures. And in the movie, A River Runs Through It, water and fly-fishing are the source of inspiration for the spiritual and faith life of this minister and his family.

Water is used to clean our bodies and our environment. In the Eucharist the priest washes her hands before praying over our offering of bread, water, and money – washing as a sacred act, preparing for the coming forth of the Holy Spirit through the words and actions of the Eucharistic prayer.

Christianity uses water in four different sacramental ways: to recall birth, to evoke death, to typify renewal, and to suggest washing.

Baptismal waters are all of these, a sign and symbol of an old life passing away, a new life being birthed, life purified in an encounter with God, an invitation to model our lives on Christ, and an invitation to renewal our commitment to live a life of faith – to love God, love others, love self – to respect the dignity of every human being….

And on this fifth and final week in our celebration of the Season of Creation, we can work for and pray for clean water through out the world. But most importantly today we celebrate the sacrament of baptism - for two little boys: Mason and Maximus.

So, what is a Sacrament? The purpose of a sacrament is to make us aware of a truth that is not readily apparent so that we might benefit from it. Sacraments are ritual acts that reveal to us something about the nature of God.

Sacraments, enable the love of God, that is already present and available, real for us. God’s love becomes real for us in such a way that we are able to fully benefit from it.

Holy Baptism reveals God’s love for us and invites into a particular relationship with God. Baptism makes us aware that God loves each and everyone of us with a love that is merited by virtue of the reality that we are made in God’s image – made good to do good. God’s love is also unconditional and never ending. There is nothing we humans can do or need to do to make that love available to ourselves or anyone else. Baptism is not necessary for a child or adult to receive God’s love. But baptism is the means by which we become aware of a love that we might not otherwise be able to appreciate or benefit from. Baptism gives us our Christian identity, marked with water and sealed with a sign of the cross in holy oil. As Christians we know the love of God as it is made manifest in and through the life of Jesus.

The baptismal rite invites us to celebrate the grace and love God has for our children. It reminds us that our children are in God’s hands and that we are not alone in our love for them. We need to renew our baptismal covenant so that we are reminded that, with God’s help, we are called to reveal God’s love in and through our lives. That we may mirror back to our children, and to all we meet, the nature and character of God’s love.
That we, through baptism, are called to mirror back to the world the love of God, reminds me of a story from “Mary’s Way” by Peggy Tabor Millin. She writes:

I was on a train on a rainy day. The train was slowing down to pull into a station. For some reason I became intent on watching the raindrops on the window. Two separate drops, pushed by the wind, merge into one for a moment and then divide again – each carrying with it a part of the other. Simply by that momentary touching, neither was what it had been before. And as each one went on to touch other raindrops, it shared not only itself, but what it had gleaned from the other….

Let us remember that our lives impact other lives, in ways known and unknown. May we strive, with God’s help, to listen. May we hear the word of God that courses through the river of life, the waters of creation. And, may we live our baptismal covenant in such a way that all that we do and all that are, reveals God’s unending love and compassion.

Mirror of God

2011-10-09T13:00:00.000-05:00

Koko the gorilla is the, now famous,230 pound ape that was taught how to communicate using American Sign Language. With a vocabulary of over 1000 words Koko drew two fingers across her cheek like whiskers, signaling to her teacher that she wanted a cat for her birthday. The teacher had been reading, The Three Little Kittens, to Koko for years. And, now Koko wanted her own kitten. So Koko was given her pick of a kitten from a litter of abandoned kittens. She chose one so small that she could have crushed it, with barely a squeeze of her hand. Instead she cuddled the tailless gray male like a baby and named the kitten, “All Ball.” Koko carried Ball like other gorillas carry their babies, she tended to him, tickled and scratched him, and knowing her own strength handled him gently. When asked by her teacher if she loved All Ball, Koko signed, “Soft, good cat.” Sadly, one day the kitten escaped from the sanctuary and was hit by a car. Koko grieved the loss of her kitten, her sadness was clear – revealed in hand gestures, her silent language of grief, and in her crying calls. When asked if she wanted to talk about her loss Koko gestured, “Cry”.

“What happened to your kitty,” her trainer asked.

“Sleep cat.” Pointing to a photo of a cat that resembled Ball, Koko’s big hands spoke again, “Cry, sad, frown.”

In time Koko soon had the opportunity to bond with a pair of new kittens , once again impressing her human care givers with her gentle affection.
This story, well known to many people, appeared in National Geographic Magazine and then again in the book, “Unlikely Friendships” by Jennifer Holland.

Holland writes in the book:

”Less common than a human-pet connection, and at first glance more surprising, is a bond between members of two different nonhuman species: a dog and a donkey, a cat and a bird, a sheep and an elephant. The phenomenon is most often reported in captive animals, in part because we simply catch them in the act more often. But it’s also because, notes biologist and primate specialist Barbara King of the College of William & Mary, that’s where constraints are relaxed, where animals aren’t fighting for their basic needs – which allows their emotional energy to flow elsewhere. Of course, there are cases of cross species bonds in the wild, as well. “Most important,” says King, “we know animals, under whatever circumstances, have that capacity.” Calling these inter-species relationships might be a stretch, by human standards of friendship. But regardless it is evident that animals are capable of emotions similar to ours, capable of forming companionships that improve the condition of life for each animal. Barbara King says, “I believe people crave examples not just of cuteness, and not just of tolerance – but of true compassion and sharing. These stories help us get in touch with the best in ourselves. “ (from the introduction to Unlikely Friendships, Jennifer S. Holland).

Today, on the third Sunday of our Season of Creation, we celebrate the Feast day of St. Francis of Assisi. Traditionally celebrated on the fourth of October, this feast days is often transferred to another convenient day in order that we can we celebrate and bless our pets. While St. Francis was a lover of animals, he was actually someone who cared deeply for all creation: for animals, the land, and human beings. St. Francis believed that nature was the mirror of God. A man of deep faith, he lived a simple life, giving up his inheritance and family wealth, and devoting his life to tend to those most in need. His work led to the creation of the order of Franciscans, a monastic order committed to caring for the poor. Living in the age of the Crusades, St. Francis encountered humanity during one of our most violent ages of intolerance. Francis of Assisi maintained close relationships with Muslims, and the order of the Franciscans was the only order allowed to remain in the Holy Land after the fall of Crusades – for his day, a clear example of an unlikely friendship between human beings.
For us, this day is a reminder that we are called to follow the example of St. Francis, to care for all of God’s creation in wild and exorbitant ways – out of gratitude, with generosity, gladness, and with hospitality. Expressing these to land, water, and air, to animals of all kinds, and to all human beings regardless of the many ways we may differ one from another. We humans are uniquely able to recognize and address the imbalances in the world, whether human made imbalances or otherwise. To create circumstances in which, as Holland observes, “the constraints are relaxed, and (no one) has to fight to have basic needs met.” In such circumstances our emotional energy can flow elsewhere – and as the animals show us – this means we have a greater capacity for compassion, for bringing out the best in ourselves, and others.

We have the opportunity, in fact we have the God given command, to care for this world as God cares for the world. Because, according to St. Francis, we, like all creation, are a mirror of God – made good to do good – in the most unlikely of ways.

On Being Accountable, a reflection on snakes and laundry detergent, among other things....

2011-10-02T13:00:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for propers for Season of Creation Sunday 2A: Genesis 3:1-13; and Romans 5:12-21

My sophomore year in college I lived in a house with three of my girlfriends. On hot summer days we’d load up in the car and make a drive out into the country for a swim in our favorite small lake. A remnant from ancient glaciers, this lake was tucked into a crevice bounded on all sides by rock cliffs and hills. Given the terrain we had to park the car some distance away and hike back through a patch of woods, a meadow, another stretch of woods, and down a hill to the lake. Along the way we would occasionally encounter a rattle snake sunning itself on a rock. The tell-tale rattle would give it away as it announced its presence long before we saw it. Always cautious, the humans and snakes would keep a healthy and suspicious distance from one another. The snakes preferred to slither away under a rock rather than attack or be aggressive – although no doubt they could be if we came too close.

When we finally arrived at the lake shore the first thing we would do is throw rocks into the water. Our goal in doing this was to scare away the water moccasins, large black, highly poisonous water snakes, who lived in and around the lake. After a couple of minutes of throwing rocks the snakes moved on and we went for our swim.
One day, upon leaving this watering hole, I had my dog with me, a small poodle. It, like most small dogs, thought he was much bigger than he was, and decided to not only thrush out, but bark and pursue a large water moccasin through the grasses and path. At one point the snake coiled up, and I was certain my dog was going to get bit. But he didn’t, I got him to back away, and the snake moved on.

Looking back over these memories I am astonished that no one was hurt; that neither me, nor any of my companions, nor our dogs were ever harmed. Denial is powerful, blinding us to all kinds of poor decisions. Nonetheless, these memories give me a different perspective on today’s reading from Genesis – of a deceptive snake out to lead the humans down the path of deception and sin. Snakes are not really inclined to approach humans, preferring to be left alone, sunning on a warm rock.

This is part of our Christian creation story – how we, and all the earth, came to be – how God created an interactive world intended for beauty and well being, and well, perhaps a little bit of naiveté. A story of how human beings are not only driven by our curiosity but by our desire for knowledge. And, a story about the nature of free-will, of God’s gift to us, a gift of choice – we can choose how we behave. We can choose to follow God’s desire, or we can choose something else. And, it’s a story of how humans are not always willing to take responsibility and be held accountable for our actions.

I didn’t do it” says Adam. “She did.”

“Well, I didn’t do it” says woman, “The snake did.”

And, if the snake could talk it would probably say,”I didn’t do it, the tree did” and the tree would probably blame the apple, and the apple would blame the seed and the seed would blame the soil, and so forth.

But mostly this is a story that reminds us that whether or not we accept responsibility for our actions, there are always consequences, for better or for worse.

Barbara Brown Taylor, a well known Episcopal priest, preacher, and professor, in her book, “Speaking of Sin” says that sin is not so much a set of prescribed actions and behavior, rather sin, at its most basic element, is about broken relationships. What happens to cause us to become broken in our relationship with God, with self, with others, and even with the environment? How are we contributing to the brokenness of the environment through things known and unknown? The season of creation reminds us that we are accountable for the wellbeing of this earth, and our actions matter.

Today the focus is on the land, its beauty, and our responsibility to care for it. This includes becoming aware of and, more responsible for, the pollution and trash that we humans produce.

On the internet science site, “How Stuff Works” I learned that, according to the EPA, Americans generate trash at the rate of 4.6 pounds per day per person, which translates to 251 million tons per year [EPA]. This is almost twice as much trash, per person, as most other major countries. The trash production in the United States has almost tripled since 1960. Trash in this country is dealt with in three primary ways: put in a dump which is an open hole in the ground where trash is buried. Or buried in a landfill, a more carefully designed structure built into or on top of the ground in which trash is isolated from the surrounding environment, with intent of protecting, more or less, the nearby groundwater and air quality. However, trash put in a landfill will stay there for a very long time. Inside a landfill, there is little oxygen and little moisture. Under these conditions, trash does not break down very rapidly. In fact, when old landfills have been excavated or sampled, 40-year-old newspapers have been found with easily readable print. Landfills are not designed to break down trash, merely to bury it. When a landfill closes, the site, especially the groundwater, must be monitored and maintained for up to 30 years! (science.howstuffworks.com)

And, some trash is recycled. Evidence suggests that recycling reduces landfill trash, increases jobs, helps the economy, and reduces production pollution.
We are challenged today, to think about the way we can reduce the trash and pollution we produce in our homes. For me this means using real dishes, cloth napkins, powered laundry detergent, and dish detergents with a low phosphorus count, and recycling plastic, cans, and paper.

Being accountable for our actions means each of us will do what we can to care for the world, tend to the land, and do our best to reduce the trash we produce and increase our use of sustainable products.

Because the world we live in is interconnected in small and amazing ways. I blog with people around the world, from whom I learn a great deal. One friend is a woman who lives in Zimbabwe. I delight in her descriptions of the landscape of her country. Located in the southern hemisphere Zimbabwe has winter when we have summer, spring when we have fall. The telltale signs of the seasons changing include migrating birds from Europe with names I’ve never heard of. And a cycle of beasts, from elephants to lions, that move through her town. This year I shared with her my delight in the beautiful blooming trees in my new home town of Dearborn, especially the cherry trees. It turns out that at the very same time cherry trees were in bloom here, they were also in bloom in Zimbabwe.

Paul’s letter to the Romans reminds us that God’s grace is abundant, for God makes all things well. We are called to participate with God in the protection of and restoration of this world.

We’ve been given a precious gift, this island home called earth, let us care for it as God intends, in much the same way as God cares for us.

A Strand in the Web of Creation

2011-09-25T13:00:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl I lived in a neighborhood on the side of the mountains that rim the southern section of Salt Lake City. Our driveway angled sharply down, providing a great place to skateboard. And from the street I had a fabulous view of the city and valley below. For me it was most spectacular at night, with thousands of bright sparkling lights. I remember that Petula Clark’s song, “Downtown,” was a hit on the radio.

Another of my favorite memories of living there was the apricot tree in the backyard. Now, I know that apricot trees are not very large, but as a little girl it was a big tree for me. I loved to climb up in the branches, high enough that I could see beyond the garages to the city in the valley below. And then I’d settle in on a good branch, remove the book from my pocket and enjoy fresh apricots while reading. These memories are rich in imagery, of the amazing beauty of God’s creation – even now they fill my senses with the sights, sounds, and tastes of those days.

It reminds me of a poem that Mary Oliver, my favorite poet, published in her book, “Thirst”

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

A few years later we moved to a small town in Wisconsin. It was the time when kids ran outdoors on a summer morning to ride bikes, play hop-scotch, or make up games to occupy time. We’d head home hot and hungry for lunch only to return to the outdoors until dinner. In that backyard my dad built a fabulous tree-house in the branches of a giant oak – providing my brothers and I with hours of play. And then, on the edge of our property was a small wood land area, remnants of what might have been a larger forest, or maybe just a random growth of trees. This wooded area afforded the neighborhood kids a natural play ground, building forts and other games of make believe, inviting us into our imaginations daily. My favorite game in these woods was to pretend that I was Sacajawea, an Indian maiden, and I’d try to walk undetected, silently, leaving no broken twigs or crushed grasses. Of course I was completely unable to do this, but I loved to try.

The poet and author Wendell Berry wrote a poem about this idea:

I part the out-thrusting branches
And come in beneath
The blessed and the blessing trees
Though I am silent
There is singing around me
Though I am dark
There is vision around me
Though I am heavy
There is flight around me

We begin, today, our five week series called, Season of Creation. This liturgical season falls in the middle of Ordinary Time, which begins after Pentecost and lasts until Advent. Created by an ecumenical group in Australia, this season offers us an opportunity every fall to spend some time reflecting on the world around us and our role in creation.

Environmental theologians suggest that God’s household is the whole planet: it is composed of human beings living in interdependent relations with all other life-forms and earth processes.

A theology of environmentally focused worship acknowledges that the earth is God’s home, the place where God enters into relationship with all creation. Our scripture supports this concept.

As I said in my presentation last week: A theology of the environment is a sacramental theology. Sacrament means an outward and visible expression of an inward and invisible grace. Holy Communion, which we share every Sunday around this table, is a sacrament – the bread and wine are outward expressions of an invisible grace, of God’s profound love for us and all creation.

The world is sacramental because it is an expression of God’s self. The world is also incarnational. In the prologue of the Gospel of John we hear that the Word of God, which was with God before creation, is expressed into the world in human flesh, in Jesus – this makes the world a sacramental incarnational reality. As our Gospel this morning reminds us, our role in creation to assist God in bringing forth the kingdom of God. Jesus shows us how to do this.

Acknowledging this in our worship for the Season of Creation provides us with an opportunity to embrace what incarnation means; how – being born of the Spirit - we are invited by God to partner with God in caring for God’s home.

Chief Seattle, a member of Suquamish tribe in the Pugent Sound region near Seattle,WA, known for a famous speech he gave in 1854 on the condition of humanity and nature, offers this:

Teach your children
What we have taught our children –
That the earth is our mother.
Whatever befalls the earth
Befalls the sons and daughters of the earth.
If men spit upon the ground,
They spit upon themselves.

This we know
the earth does not belong to us,
we belong to the earth.
This we know
All things are connected
Like the blood which unites one family
All things are connected.

Whatever befalls the earth
Befalls the sons and daughters of the earth.
We did not weave the web of life,
We are merely a strand in it.
Whatever we do to the web,
We do to ourselves.

Turning Whine into Grace

2011-09-18T11:30:00.002-05:00

For a time Dan and I lived in the Sonoran desert south of Tucson, Arizona. It was a beautiful place – wide open space, cacti with brilliantly colored flowers and amazing wild life. Our house was on the foothills of the Santa Rita mountain range, which is home to the Madera Canyon. This canyon, plunging some 9000 feet from the mountain peak, is riveted with ravines known as arroyos. The Santa Rita’s are famous for the birds that live and migrate through, especially the seasonal hummingbirds that come every spring and fall.

This mountain range is also one of many passage ways used by undocumented people who cross the border between Mexico and the US, some 45 miles to the south. Some of these people are truly awful –involved in the drug trade and human sex trafficking. But most of the people coming across are simply trying to find a way to make a living. As I understand it the issue is one of a global economic concern – of how corporations, industry and governments have impacted the world markets in such a way that the farmers and local people have lost their financial base. For example, in Mexico and Central America the small local coffee farmer, unable to compete with large coffee corporations, can no longer earn a living wage. Farms that have been in families for centuries are sold, people move to the cities for factory work only find that no positions are available. Struggling and starving, desperate people make the dangerous journey to come across the border in the hope of earning a viable living wage. Most of what they earn will be sent back to Mexico to support the family that remains behind. Fair Trade coffee and tea are effective responses, aiding the local farmers to earn a living wage, stay on their farms, and eliminate a dangerous border crossing.

The desert sand around my house was filled with foot prints of people who travelled only at night. If the desert is a dangerous place during the day, with high heat and dehydration, night is even more dangerous. Snakes, mountain lion, bobcat, and coyotes, prey on human beings and animals alike. But even more dangerous are human beings who prey on other human beings. Leaders escorting people across the desert illegally, have zero tolerance for anyone who becomes injured or ill.

In 2009 I attended a border crossing memorial service, which is held once a week in Douglas, Arizona. People are organized to process down the main street that leads to the border crossing station. Each participant is asked to carry one or more simple wooden cross. Each cross contains the name of a person who died in the desert near that border crossing. As the procession moves down the street the person in front pauses, reads the name of the person on their cross, their age, and the year of their death - “Maria, 4 years old, 2003.” After the reading the cross is set down. Sometimes the people have no identification and so the marker simply says, “male, about 18 years old, 1999” or “female, about 25, 2003”. Then the next person moves ahead and repeats the ritual. Before long the street is lined with crosses, the line goes on for a mile or more. White crosses, plain wood crosses, one after another, all in remembrance of a real person who perished in the desert.
The remains of over 5000 people have been found in that one small region in the last decade.

When I read this story in Exodus, of the Israelites wandering for forty years, getting hungry and discouraged, I am filled with some real life understanding of how difficult this journey was. It’s no wonder they began to grumble to Moses and his brother Aaron, complaining about the lack of food and water and wondering why they ever left Egypt in the first place.

Even if you have never been in the desert each of us has surely had a time in our lives when we have wondered, “Why me?” or, “God, where are you?” times when life is filled with challenges and struggle and difficulty, fear and grief, worry, frustration, and anger, have become so much a part of everyday life that despair is the “new normal.”

Our readings have two themes this morning – “where is God?” And, “what does God’s justice look like?” The point is, how do we remain faithful when life feels unfair?
The Israelites are blaming Moses for their starvation. Moses appeals to God for help and God assures Moses that food will be provided – bread in the morning and meat at night – enough food that the people will know that God is with them. Enough food to help this band of frightened wandering people learn to trust in the goodness of God, for God will always provide.

In our Philippians reading Paul is in prison, facing the real potential that he will be executed by the Roman soldiers for being a follower of Christ. Still he writes this letter encouraging the Philippians to have hope, to trust in the goodness of God.

A journey of faith is one that includes many dimensions. Being a Christian does not mean that we are exempt from the bad stuff. As a person of faith, informed by prayer and scripture and a community of others who have struggled, a community that prayers with and for us, we come to trust that God is with us on this journey, that God intends to sustain us and help us through, even when we have no idea how God is helping, nor even how we are going to manage. But the truth is when we have travelled through a few of these challenging times we begin to understand that God is indeed with us, and somehow we do make it through, and somehow we do come, eventually, to a place of healing and wholeness. Sometimes all that means is we feel at peace and have a sense of wholeness - even when nothing in our lives has really changed, except how we feel. Sometimes God’s grace, God’s presence is being manifested through a transformation of our inner selves, more than in the change of external circumstances. Sometimes God’s grace is made manifest through others, the community, who surround us in prayer like a shawl around our shoulders.

Our readings this morning serve as a reminder that the key, to moving through the challenges and growing in our faith, is three fold: our willingness to walk the journey, our willingness to walk with others in their journey, and our ability to trust in the goodness of God, even when all the evidence is to the contrary. We cannot skirt our problems, nor push them away, nor ignore them, though we may want too. Our gospel reminds us that God’s justice requires us to be attentive to how, as individuals, our actions impact others, and how one culture can affect the rest of the world – to pay attention too and understand how, what we consume, even our cup of coffee or tea, impacts the global economy and affects the livelihood of our sisters and brothers.

In so doing, we will come to know that not only does God hear our prayers, joins us in the journey, sustains us in our struggles, and loves us just as we are – BUT God expects from us that we will do likewise, that we will be attentive to our neighbors. Thus, instead of being lead by our anxieties and apprehensions, we become disciples, we become the hands and heart of Christ, guided by the love of God.

How Many Times

2011-09-11T21:02:00.001-05:00

The other night Dan and I were sitting in the family room, watching a movie. Suddenly we heard an odd noise in the wall. A noise that had our cat glued to the spot! Some more odd sounds and some scrambling and scratching took place; all the while the cat was motionless, staring at the spot.

Dan and I wondered what was in the wall –
a squirrel?
A chipmunk?
A mouse?

After about 40 minutes there was a loud screech and the cat jumped backward!

Suddenly there was a mouse running for its life around the family room floor.

A mad chase ensued, the cat cornering the mouse, Dan and I overturning furniture
to try and grab it, the dogs barking, and the poor mouse, a blur as it ran from corner to corner.

Finally, after several failed attempts, I scooped the mouse up in an old cloth and ran outside to let it go.

I know the mice are seeking a warm nest for the winter, but they will soon learn
that this house,with these dogs and cats, is not a safe harbor for them.

Playing a game of cat and mouse is what I think of when I read this story in Exodus between Moses, God, and Pharaoh.

Remember our dramatic reading last week, God commands Moses to tell Pharaoh
to release the Israelites from slavery?

Pharaoh refuses, so God sends forth plagues to torment the Egyptians. Frogs, gnats, skin boils, flies, all kinds of pestilence. Ten times Moses asks for release,
ten times Pharaoh refuses, ten times God sends a plague, ten times Pharaoh begs for release and swears to be nice and change his ways, and ten times, the reading says – “God hardened Pharaoh’s heart.”

Like a game of cat and mouse.

And, the game continues right up to our reading today, ending with the death
of many Egyptians, drowned in the very water God separated to rescue the Israelites.

This just doesn’t seem very God-like to me.

So,I went looking for some Midrash, for what the Rabbi’s had to say.

One Midrash said that God had to do this,

God had to do this, play this game, in order to convince the Israelites that God was God and Pharaoh was NOT God.

We even hear that at the end of today’s reading.

It was common in the ancient world for people to believe that Pharaohs and Emperors and Kings were Gods.

So God took away Pharaohs free will, something only the one true God could do,
so the Midrash says.

And, thus Pharaoh had no choice. I think there are some real problems with this Midrash. It makes me think of the book, “Under the Banner of Heaven” by John Krakauer. It’s the story of the murder of a young woman and her infant daughter
by her brother in law. The brother in law used, as a defense, the idea that
God had told him to do this – he was doing God’s will, he had no choice.

Fearing that other criminals would justify violence as doing God’s will, the prosecutors being people of faith, built a brilliant defensive strategy. They had a Mormon psychologist testify about the difference between God speaking to us in prayer, and someone who, for one reason or another is incapable of sound judgment, and thus capable of heinous crimes.

Then another Midrash offers this. The Hebrew word for “harden” as in God hardened Pharaoh’s heart can also be interpreted as “strengthen” – God strengthened Pharaoh’s heart.

Ten times Moses goes and prays, God releases the plague, God strengthen Pharaoh’s heart, And yet, Pharaoh changes his mind.

Pharaoh is on a downward spiral, he is out of control. For some reason he is determined to get his way,to do what he wants. We all know people who continue to make destructive decisions regardless of all the efforts to help them make better life choices.

Rachel Kahntroster writing in the Huffington Post, offers this Midrash from a contemporary rabbi

“The Fast of Tisha B'Av, which (began) this year on the night of Aug. 8, has been a way for the Jewish community to confront and contain trauma through the telling of stories.

First established to commemorate the destruction of the First Temple in B.C.E. 586, it has become the day to relive the trauma of many other national calamities. …

The rabbis tell the story of Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai and Rabbi Joshua visiting the ruins of the Second Temple after it was destroyed by the Romans in 70 C.E.
Rabbi Joshua bursts into tears, anguished that the place where Israel atoned for its sins (through sacrifice and burnt offerings) had been destroyed. Rabbi Yochanan comforts him, declaring that deeds of lovingkindness (chesed) had more power to achieve atonement and heal a broken world than sacrifice ever could.

Chesed is not just something God shows us; it is our obligation to our fellow human beings in light of unimaginable tragedy. Chesed and not hatred or revenge.”

And, then there is this comment on Psalm 114 by Marcia Brown-Ludwig (of the UCC Massachusetts Conference):

“At the time this (Psalm) was written, the God of Jacob supposedly belonged to the Israelite people – but now at least three faiths claim this same God as the One God: Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

As we consider how divided people of faith remain at our time of history – especially on the anniversary of a day when so many felt it was one religion against another (September 11, 2001), may we remember that the Earth is home to all of us, these three faiths and all the rest of the people who live on this planet.

These readings placed in the context of our Gospel reading remind us that forgiveness is the central focus of the day.

Thomas Long, a biblical scholar wrote this about today’s Gospel reading:

"… we are sailing…on a deep sea of grace…. Forgiveness is not to be dispensed
with an eyedropper, but a fire hose" (Thomas Long, Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion).

The Exodus story was written thousands of years ago in a different language –
the context of the story as it was first intended is lost to us.

At the very least we can attempt to understand it through a historical lens
that reminds us that these societies and cultures were built on different principles.
Civil society with laws and rules, with social justice and acts of compassion, were being formed as society shifted from nomadic families caring for their own, to diverse cultures living together in larger and larger cities, encountering the need
to care for strangers.

As Christians we have come to know the formation of a just society through the life of Jesus – as one who models for us how we are to live.

Our Gospel reading points us in that direction, the concept of forgiveness and compassion is present in the story we hear.

“Peter came and said to him, ‘Lord, how often should I forgive?’

Jesus said to him ‘… seventy-seven times –‘”

in other words, over and over.

A Litany of Reconciliation from Coventry Cathedral, written in response to the bombing that destroyed the Cathedral in 1940, ends with this:

Be kind to one another,
tender-hearted,
forgiving one another,
as God
in Christ
forgave you.

What we take away from these readings, what ever we feel about the tragedy of Sept. 11, 2001, one thing holds true –

we will find our safe harbor in every effort we make to forgive others, to love, to show compassion.

Often in the face of Challenge finding the ability to care, forgive, show compassion, seems impossible.

Prayer, as I said in my sermon last week Is path that opens us, Transforms us
from the inside out And enables us to Love, to forgive.

And when we do this will be supported by God, who will strengthen our hearts
and sustain us.

Over.
And Over.
And Over.

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Pray....It May Be the Last Thing.....

2011-09-11T20:34:00.001-05:00

Pray for those
who persecute you.

Have you ever
actually
tried to do this?

I did once.
I was having
a very difficult time
with someone
who had a fair amount
of authority and control
over my life
and was causing me
all kinds of challenges.

Because this person
could influence
the outcome
of some work
I was doing
I had to tread lightly.

I wanted
to dislike this person
and rail against them,
but
that would have been
counter productive.

One day
it occurred to me
that
what I ought to be doing
was praying for this person.

Admittedly
the very thought
of holding this person
in my prayers
almost made me ill.

Prayer was my time
with God,
a time for me
to be vulnerable,
to share my grievances,
a time to be silent
and still,
to find peace.
All of that
would be disrupted
if I brought this person
into my prayers.

And so
for a time
I fought the impulse
to pray for this person.

But eventually
I decided to try praying
for this person.

My anger
was so strong
that all I could muster
was to say the persons name
while in prayer,
and nothing else.

Day after day
for months
I offered this person,
by name,
up in prayer.

Nothing else,
just their name.

And a weird thing happened.

After awhile
my anger subsided
and went away.
Somehow
I had the ability within
to no longer
allow the actions
of this person
to manage
how I felt.

Something inside me
shifted
and I was no longer held
in the grip
of that person.

True
the person continued
to be who they were,
not nice.
But their impact
on me
was diminished,
gone.

Inside
I felt a greater
ease and peace.

Praying for those
who wound us
does not mean
that we accept
abuse
or violence
or bad behavior.

We are to love self –
neither
abusing others
nor accepting
abuse of self
are acts of love.

Praying is an act
that invites transformation
because it is an invitation
for God to act
in and through us.

Joan Chittister
in her book,
Scarred by Struggle
Transformed by Hope says,
“The hard thing
to come to understand
in life
is that it is the
becoming
that counts,
not the achievements…
When despair comes
we have to dispel it
with hope,
we have to make
the effort…
holding on
when holding on
seems pointless,
brings us
to that point of
personal transformation
which is the juncture
of maturity and sagacity…
the struggles of life
may indeed shunt us
from mountain top
to mountain top
but
they will not
destroy us.” (pg 110)

Prayer has enabled me
to have hope
when I had no hope,
to take that next breath,
that next step,
prayer holds onto me
until I can take the next one,
to keep on going.

Because prayer
has enabled hope
to live within me.
And hope enables me
to trust
in the ultimate goodness
of God,
even when
all the evidence
is to the contrary.

Today
I invite us
into a week of prayer
with the hope
of transforming
the tragedy of 9-11
into a mission of unity.

This transformation
is not just my hope.

There is a movement afoot,
from the Presiding Bishop,
Katharine Jefforts Schori,
to various agencies
and houses of worship
in the Detroit metropolitan area,
seeking
this transformation
from tragedy
to hope and unity.

Prayer is an action,
a response,
we can make
to an egregious act
of senseless violence.

Prayer is as much about
transforming our hearts
as it about transforming
the hearts of others,
even those
who persecute us.

Prayer helps me
as I strive
to follow the instruction
of Paul
in his letter
to the Romans:
“for the one
who loves
another has fulfilled
the law.”

I invite you
to participate
in the prayer vigil
held here tomorrow,
beginning with a special
Labor Day Eucharist
at 10am,
followed by a prayer vigil
until 7pm.

I invite you
to also take home
and use this
book of prayers
we created for
individuals and families
for a week of prayer.

And,
I invite you
to pray with me now,
opening
the Book of Common Prayer
to page 833,
let us pray
the prayer attributed to St. Francis:
Lord, make us instruments of your peace...

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Life Lessons

2011-08-28T13:15:00.001-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 17A:Exodus 3:1-15, Romans 12:9-21. Matthew 16:21-28

I remember sitting on the counter in my grandmother’s kitchen, talking to my mother on the telephone. Outside the window it was a glorious sunny day, light bouncing off the rock bluffs, scrub trees and pine which define the beautiful mountains that surround the Salt Lake City Valley. I have no idea what my mom and I were talking about, just the usual topics for a five year old and her mom. Suddenly everything began to tremble. My grandmother had decorative soup ladles and dishes hanging on her kitchen walls and I watched them swing back and forth before they crashed to the floor. Perhaps a minute or two passed as the earth shook and things clattered. As far as I know this earthquake in Salt Lake City didn’t cause any wide spread damage, I’m not even sure it was strong enough to be news worthy, but it left an impression on me.

Years later I am the mother of a teen age daughter whose high school sweet heart has joined the army right after graduation. For the next four year we make several trips to visit this young man and support him through basic training, a couple of years of stateside service and then what we could do to support him during the fourteen months he was deployed to Afghanistan. One of our trips to visit him took us to Fayetteville, North Carolina. During that visit my son Peter and I ventured out on our own, leaving Jessi and her boyfriend to wander the shopping malls and visit with friends. Peter and I drove from Fayetteville to Wilmington where we wandered the beach side landmarks of the Civil War, took a long walk up the beach, and had lunch at a fabulous seashore fish house. I remember the sand on this beach was the whitest sand, soft and fine, with lots of shells to collect. I think of that very beach today, ravaged now by hurricane Irene. And I think of all the people afflicted first by the earthquake that hit the east coast, and now by this massive storm.
Our life experiences, regardless of whether they are good experiences or difficult ones, provide the foundation for our ability to understand the joys and sufferings of others. Having experiences in common deepens our capacity for empathy and compassion.

Some Jewish Midrash, which is the process by which rabbis wrestle with stories from the torah, suggest that Moses had to learn about compassion and empathy before he could become the leader of the Hebrew people.

Last week, as our Old Testament reading moved from Genesis to Exodus, we heard the story of Moses’ birth and his subsequent adoption by the Pharaoh’s daughter. In the chapters between last week and the reading this morning Moses has grown up, privileged in the Pharaoh’s home, and yet he knows that he is a Hebrew, not an Egyptian. As a young adult Moses tries to establish friendships with other Hebrews but his rejected. He witnesses an Egyptian beating a Hebrew man and in the process of defending the Hebrew man Moses kills the Egyptian. And for this he runs away and ends up in the countryside, tending sheep and marrying the daughter of the man who owns the flock. It’s while tending sheep that he encounters the burning bush in our reading from this morning. Over and over Moses will learn about human nature, about humility, about following God, and of developing compassion through the challenges life throws our way.

This same theme is echoed in the reading this morning in Romans and the Gospel – we are to show compassion for all people. Our ability to love as God loves comes from our life experiences, which form in us the capacity for compassion.
True, our life experiences can also form in us the capacity to be angry and bitter, always complaining, and never able to give others the benefit of the doubt. We have choices in how we respond to what life deals us. As we move through the Exodus story we will hear how Moses points the way to compassion and faithful living. Paul in his letter to the Romans reminds the congregation to: 9Let love be genuine…. 10love one another with mutual affection; …extend hospitality to strangers. ….15Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16Live in harmony with one another…. And Jesus helps us understand this further with his call that we pick up our cross and follow him. Jesus doesn’t say to pick up his cross and be Jesus, he says to follow him bearing our own crosses – regardless of what life has dealt us to become people who ground our lives in love and compassion for ourselves and for others.

To this end I invite us into a week of prayer from Sept. 5 through Sept. 11. Our Presiding Bishop has asked that churches leave their doors open so that all may come and pray. Pray with the intent of transforming the events of Sept. 11 into a mission of unity and hope. So we will offer a special Eucharist on Monday, Sept. 5, Labor Day, at 10am, followed by a self-led all day prayer vigil. We invited the Dearborn police department and fire department and Mayors office to feel to free to come and pray any time during the vigil. You may come on that Monday for a short while or a long time. We will have booklets available with a variety of prayers for you to pick and choose from, or to pray through the entire booklet.
We will also have, next Sunday, a booklet to take home, with daily prayers for individuals and families. Prayers for morning, noon, the evening meal, and bedtime, which you are invited to use, particularly, during the week leading up to the tenth anniversary of 9/11.

Sunday of 9/11 there will be a variety of local opportunities available such as a vigil at the Henry Ford Museum at 6:30pm, and opportunities for work with WISDOM and outreach missions of Detroit – the details will be in our newsletter.
Both booklets contain prayers from the Book of Common Prayer as well as prayers from the New Zealand Prayer book and other faith traditions. Prayers that invite us to see the divine working in and through the world, calling us to live lives of peace, of love, of compassion. Here is one such prayer:

May I be free from danger,

May I be free from fear,

May I be healthy,

May I dwell in peace.

May you be free from danger,

May you be free from fear,

May you be healthy,

May you dwell in peace.

May all beings be free from danger,

May all beings be free from fear,

May all beings be healthy,

May all beings dwell in peace.

(Traditional Buddhist Prayer)

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In Which God Prevails, again....

2011-08-21T14:00:00.001-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 16A, Exodus 1:8-2:10

During my vacation I read a number of books. One of them, Caleb's Crossing, was written by a Geraldine Brooks, a favorite author of mine. It tells the story of the first Native American to attend Harvard University in the 1600's. Brooks, a former corespondent for the Wall Street Journal covering the war in Bosnia, Somalia, and the Middle East, is now a Pulitzer prize winning novelist. Her books deal with struggles in society between the dominant culture and those marginalized by society and seen as threatening. My favorite book is called. "People of the Book." in it she tells the story inspired by the Sarajevo Haggadah. An Haggadah is a book used by the Jewish people at their Seder Passover meal to tell the sacred story of Exodus from Egypt.

I've attended several Seders and even a couple of delightful women's Seders created my rabbi friend Lisa and the female cantor at the synagogue in Illinois. A women's Seder tells the Passover and Exodus story through eyes of Miriam and the women, instead of Moses. Through the eyes of the women who cooked the meals and danced and sang. They were delightful!

The story “People of the Book” is a wonderful fictitious portrait of how the Sarajevo Haggadah may have been created and survived the Crusades, the Holocaust, and the war in Bosnia. It’s a story of Jews, Christians, and Muslims, all working together, even in times of war and persecution, to protect one another and this book.

After a summer of reflecting on the Book of Genesis we have now moved from that book to Exodus. Genesis and Exodus, along with Numbers, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy comprise the first five books of the Bible known also as the Pentateuch, or the Torah, or the Books of Moses. At one time it was thought that Moses actually wrote all five of these books, but scholars now know that they were written over hundreds of years by many different people. Nonetheless these five books tell the story of the formation of the Hebrew people, the early followers of Yaweh, the God of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, and Joseph. The Genesis story concluded last week with a Joseph, son of Jacob and Rachel, now grown, living in Egypt and serving as counsel to the Pharaoh. This week the story continues many generations later with this Pharaoh feeling threatened by the Israelites. Once the Israelites were the favored immigrants in Egypt, but now they are seen as a threat.

A tempting political strategy, whether an Egyptian pharaoh or more current examples of genocide such as what has happened in the Sudan, Somalia, Rwanda, or Serbia-Croatia, involve trying to solidify power by singling out another group and calling them the enemy. Fear of others can be a powerful source of unity. In Genesis we hear about the blessings God gives the Israelites by way of land and descendants. But now those same descendants are described by Pharaoh as a threat that may endanger Egypt's security and way of life. Pharaoh's responds by trying three different strategies to suppress the Israelites: Pharaoh enslaves them; he commands midwives to kill Hebrew boys at birth, and then he commands all Egyptians to throw Hebrew boys into the Nile River.

Pharaoh tries to turn the Nile River, Egypt's main source of water and life, into an instrument of death. Yet the women in this story succeed in bringing forth God’s desire for justice, for the well-being of all people.

God intervenes and none of the Pharaoh’s strategies work. And, typical of God, God intervenes in the most unexpected ways – through midwives, through mothers, and sisters, and daughters – including the Pharaoh’s own daughter who rescues Moses after his mother and sister contrive a way to save the baby. Such a wild set of “coincidences” could only be of God…

This ancient text from Exodus still speaks to us today through our own issues of race and politics, religion, gender, power, the war on terror, immigration, the global economy, and all that threaten the well-being of our selves, our neighbors, and the world around us. Reminding us that there are many threats in the world today, but in and through them all we are called first and foremost to be a people of faith. To trust that God is and will work in and through us too. But to do that we need to open ourselves up to God and become the vessel through which God can work, the means by which we become the hands and heart of Christ.

portions of this reflction were informed from this commentary by Stacey M. Floyd-Thomas, The African American Lectionary, 2009

Compassion

2011-08-16T07:17:00.001-05:00

From the Dalai Lama

The compassion we feel normally is biased and mixed with attachment. Genuine compassion flows towards all living beings, particularly your enemies. If I try to develop compassion towards my enemy, it may not benefit him directly, he may not even be aware of it. But it will immediately benefit me by calming my mind. On the other hand, if I dwell on how awful everything is, I immediately lose my peace of mind.

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Monsters Under the Bed...and other things we are afraid of...

2011-08-01T21:44:00.001-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 13A: Genesis 32:22-32

When I was a little girl I had, for a time, this fear that a monster lived under my bed. I was old enough to know that the fear was irrational, so I didn't tell anyone about it, but I was young enough that it still took hold of me every night. The monster only liked the night time, after my bedroom light was turned off for the night. During the day I was perfectly fine in my room. But every night, after I turned out the light I would have to leap into my bed in order to avoid that monster that was suddenly present under the bed.

Now, it wasn't the sort of monster that was going to come out from under the bed. No. This monster laid on its back under the bed and had long arms that would reach out from underneath and grab me! Or at least that was my fear, it never actually got me. Once I had successfully jumped into bed and covered up I had to sleep in the center of the mattress. If I ventured too close to either edge the monster might reach one of its arms up around the side of the bed and grab me. The monster's arms were such that they could even squeeze between the wall and the sideboard and mattress of the bed, and grab me. So, no edges for me, right in the center is where I slept.

I'm amused now, when I think of that childhood fear, and the silly irrationality of it. But fears are often irrational. Fear takes over our logic and grips us in such a way that we are frozen, immobile, and incapable of making sound decisions.

Our recent book discussions on Karen Armstong's book, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, have considered the idea of fear and the way fear can take over and control us. Karen Armstong says, that we need to recognize our fears and have compassion toward ourselves. And, then, recognize that often the very things we dislike in another person are the same qualities we dislike in ourselves.

Armstrong argues that there is a lot of this going on the world today – a lot of fear, and a lot of finger pointing at others, disliking the behavior of others but not taking ownership for ones own behavior. Just watch the news, and you can see how this is true.

Good gracious, the anxiety in the world around us, not to mention Washington DC, is enough to give anyone nightmares, let alone worry about monsters roaming about!

Jacob, in our reading this morning from Genesis, is also anxious. Last week we heard the story of his time working for Laban, a distant relative of Jacob's mother Rebekah. In the process of working for Laban Jacob has acquired two wives, several servants, a lot of children, and a herd of sheep. He has dealt with Laban's unethical work practices, and negotiated a way to leave Laban and return to Canaan, to be reuinted with his brother, Esau.

But Jacob has no idea how Esau will respond to this reuniting. Last Jacob knew, Esau was mad as a hornet and out for revenge. Still, Jacob yearns to return home. Our reading this morning tells the story of Jacob, enroute to Canaan, anxious and worried as he approaches the land of his brother. Out of fear Jacob sends his family off a few miles away, to wait in safety. Jacob then spends the night alone, preparing to meet Esau in the next day. And in the night, Jacob has this dream, this wrestling with a man, an angel, with God, dream, that leaves him with a dislocated hip and a new name. Jacob has been renamed Israel. Jacob's story is the story of the people who follow this God. A people who are sometimes faithful and considerate and a people who are other times, greedy and cruel. A people who are much like the people in the world today.

What we learn from the Genesis stories is that wrestling and wrangling, struggling, with ourselves, with others, and with God, is part of what it means to be human. But, it is often in the wrestling that God comes and something profound happens. All of the great saints have experienced that their most profound moments of conversion, come from a struggle, of coming face to face with God in such a way that they are forever changed.

So the crux of the matter, for the Genesis story, our lives, and our world today is: how do we manage to move beyond our own individual fears, the stuff we wrestle over, and focus on the common good of all, living as God calls us to live? The story of Jacob becomes the story of the people of God, struggling with life and God, to become faithful, to love God, love self, and love others. Our task, as a people of God is the same, to recognize that our individual selves are only as good as our collective selves, and, that how we care for others in this world is as important as how we care for ourselves.

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Sometimes God Works In Us Through The Weeds

2011-07-19T07:18:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 11A/Ordinary 16A/Pentecost +5: Genesis 28:10-19a and Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

Our reading from Matthew today is another parable. Last week I talked about parables and shared a reflection on weeding my garden. That reflection would not have worked for this reading because last week I talked about the pleasure I find in weeding my garden, but in this parable Jesus suggests that we leave the weeds to grow along side the wheat. Any garden knows that this is not really good advice – since the weeds will compromise the health and productivity of the crop. But Jesus is not talking about food, he's talking about human beings. In this parable he's suggesting that human beings learn to live together, that we accept our differences, and strive to live without judging others.

The battle between Esau and Jacob – began in the womb, continues into life – on the one hand it represents the struggle between rival powers in the ancient world – who is in control of this ancient country/land is represented by the battle between these brothers. As we learn later in Genesis, Jacob is renamed Israel by God – so the story represents a battle between ancient Israel and other nations. .

Once Jacob has deceived Esau and received the father's blessing, we learn that Esau is irate. In order to protect her sons from harming one another, Rebekah urges Jacob to leave. Our reading this morning picks up the story with Jacob on a run for his life.

Jacob, upon leaving home, heads east – toward the land of his mother – eventually coming to the home of an uncle. But along the way he stops to rest for the night and uses a stone for a pillow. During the night he has a dream, a revelation of God – God comes face to face with Jacob – and gives Jacob a blessing. Upon waking Jacob calls the place holy. This land of Bethel becomes the family burial site, and a place of importance in the unfolding Genesis family story.

Years ago, with another congregation, I lead an adult forum every Sunday between the 8am and 10am service. For this forum, which is what they wanted to do, we usually read and discussed a book. One year we decided to read the Book of Genesis, and as a companion to that bible study we read Bill Moyers book, Genesis, A living Conversation. Moyers invited a diverse group of people to read and discuss the primary stories of Genesis – so he had Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Buddhists, Screen writers, authors, religious people, and non-religious people – who gathered every so often and discussed a story from Genesis. It was so interesting that Moyers made a PBS series out of it. Here's a bit of that conversation that pertains today's reading:

“Rebekah pays a heavy price for her actions. Her life is miserable from this time forward. She tells her younger, beloved son to run away to her family in far off Mesopotamia and puts on a brave face, saying, it's just for a few days. But she knows in her heart that she will never see Jacob again.

Moyers asks, “Does it occur to you that Rebekah's sacrifice of Jacob is analogous to Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac?

Naomi, “They're both prepared to make sacrifices for a larger cause. What am I or any of us here today ready to do for a....cause we love? How would we respond if our faith was truly tested? This story also shows us that conflicts are inevitable...”

Marianne, “This story...points out that you don't have to get rid of..conflict before God's purposes can be worked out. It is precisely in and through these conflicts that the promise of God is carried out..we can identify with this because it is...in and through the sometimes messy parts of our lives that God's purposes are worked out.”*

Life can be messy sometimes. Weeds crop up. Stuff happens. But our call as a people of God is to stay faithful and trust that when we treat one another with dignity and respect, with kindness and compassion, and when we give each other the benefit of the doubt, instead of judgment, we leave room for God to work in and through us.

*excerpts from Genesis, A Living Conversation, pages 261-262

Interfaith Worship at Christ Episcopal Church, Dearborn, Makes the News

2011-07-12T12:17:00.000-05:00

The following article appeared in the Detroit News on July 12, 2011.

Interfaith worship provides education, understanding
The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski,Gail Katz and Eide Alawan

Imagine the primary Sunday morning service in a Christian church that begins with a 9-year-old Muslim boy offering the Islamic Call to Prayer, followed by a woman lighting candles on a table set with bread, wine and grape juice and offering the Jewish prayers that begin the Sabbath worship, followed by an Episcopal priest offering the "collect of the day."

So began the interfaith service over the weekend at Christ Episcopal Church in Dearborn. Parishioners specifically requested the service after reading about the national "Faith Shared" project, organized by Interfaith Alliance and Human Rights First. The challenge in planning such a service was in knowing who from the other faith traditions to invite to help organize and participate in the service.

It was a serendipitous coincidence, in which the date scheduled nationwide for the service, June 26, happened to also fall at the conclusion of the 10th anniversary of the Worldviews Seminar, so the Rev. Terri Pilarski of Christ Episcopal Church had the chance to make contacts in the interfaith world and successfully organize the service.

Co-created by Christ Church, Episcopal Relief and Development, the University of Michigan-Dearborn and the Islamic Center of America, the seminar provides a weeklong course on world religions.

The service included portions of Muslim, Jewish and Christian worship, honoring each tradition in the process. Beginning with each tradition's call to prayer and worship, the service included readings from and reflections on the sacred texts of the Torah and the Gospels, plus a reading from the Quran, chanted in Arabic and translated into English.

Gail Katz, co-founder of Women's Interfaith Solutions for Dialogue and Outreach in Metro Detroit and member of Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, brought her family's Sabbath candlesticks, and after lighting the Shabbat candles, she blessed them in Hebrew and welcomed everyone.

Yousif Makki, a member of the Islamic Center of America in Dearborn, chanted the Muslim Call to Prayer, and his brother, Younes, explained the meaning of the Arabic prayer in English.

Katz also shared the "Parashah" of the week the Torah portion read that week in synagogues all over the world. Younes followed the sharing of the Torah portion with a reading from the Quran. Prayers over a meal were offered by each tradition, and the bread, wine and juice were shared among the gathered congregation.

Each component of the worship offered the comparable element from each tradition. To us, the only unusual aspect of the service was that the various elements were woven into a typical order for a Sunday morning worship service in the Episcopal Church.

Not every Jewish or Muslim worship experience would include all of these elements in one service, although they are each a component of faithful practice in the life of a Jew or Muslim.

Dearborn is a special community that honors its diversity and enjoys sincere hospitality and compassion among the people of this city. While this worship service was a first for the community, it is just one example of the many ways that Jews, Christians and Muslims work together and learn from each other, for the good of all.

Hearing each other's prayers and learning about our diverse faith traditions are ways to move forward to break down our cultural, ethnic and religious segregation, which is often far too pronounced in greater metropolitan Detroit. The more we learn about the faith-based practices of our neighbors who might dress differently, eat different foods and speak different languages, the more we find our commonality as human beings and underscore our similar missions of unity, peace, community-building and mutual understanding.

The purpose of this service, one of dozens nationwide inspired by the national Faith Shared project organized by the Interfaith Alliance and Human Rights First, both based in Washington, D.C., was not to blend our diverse ways of worshipping God into one common service, nor was it an invitation to create one world religion.

Rather, it was decisively an opportunity to learn from one another and celebrate our differences as we honored our similarities.

The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski is rector of Christ Episcopal Church; Gail Katz is co-founder of WISDOM; and Eide Alawan represents the office of Interfaith Outreach of the Islamic Center of America. Email comments to letters@detnews.com.

Weeding for Life

2011-07-11T07:40:00.001-05:00

A reflection on Matthew 13:18-23 for Proper 10A

I use to hate weeding. It was one of those nasty projects that I tolerated, and rushed to complete because I found it so tedious and boring. Recently I was unable to tend to the weeding in my plot for more than a week, I found that I had a jungle of weeds. It was overwhelming. One day I went out with the intention of weeding the entire thing, but after an hour I had one small section done, was over heated, and out of time. So the next day I went out again for about an hour. Then each day I went out for about an hour and did what I could do. Eventually I eased into a comfortable rhythm of weeding, the hour time frame fit into my schedule, I was slowly making progress with the jungle, and I discovered that weeding had become a calming discipline – weeding slowed me down, and invited me to just appreciate the act of tending to the garden.

I remember other occasions when I have weeded gardens that I did not plant. Then, looking at some mysterious plant or flower I'd wonder, is this a weed or something that is intended to be here?

Unlike my garden, where I planted everything and can tell a weed from the crops, some flower beds require a more discerning approach, and a certain amount of wait and see.

Our reading this morning from Matthew sounds as if it is about gardening. The parable of the sower is found in three Gospels: Matthew, Mark, and Luke, indicating that it is primary to the teachings of Jesus. In Matthew it is the first of many parables about weeds and wheat and mustard seeds, treasures and pearls, and fishing nets.

A parable is a story with many layers of meaning, like an onion, one can peel back each layer to find yet another. Jesus spoke in parable for just that reason, so that people would wrestle with the meaning and move into an ever deeper understanding of their faith and their relationship with God.

For this parable we might wonder: Who is the sower? Who is the seed? Who is the soil? And who or what grows from the seed?

Any thoughts? On the one hand its a parable so there are no “correct” answers. But on the other hand there are some answers that are more likely than others. So, who do you say is the sower....the seed...the soil....the crop that grows....

A typical understanding of the parable is this:

God is the sower, Jesus is the seed – God throws the seed, the word of God, the love of God, known to us as Jesus, - God scatters the word, love, Jesus, broadly across all the world.

We are the soil. Sometimes we are rocky or thorny soil unable to hear the word, receive the love, or welcome Jesus into our lives – in such a manner as to enable that word, that love, Jesus to fully take root and grow inside of us, in such a manner as to become transformative.

But sometimes we are like good soil and God's word, God's love, Jesus can take root inside of us, transforming us into our best possible selves – people who reflect God's love, God's word, the face and hands and heart of Jesus, back into the world – by loving others as God loves. Often, the word of God, the love of God does not look like much, it's like a plain tiny seed. Birds eat seeds that are scattered on the ground, just ask anyone who has planted grass seed....but in the parable, when the birds eat the seed they might represent the distractions and troubles that crop up in life, trying to pull us away from God. But like the birds, who usually redeposit the seed elsewhere, which explains why some plants grow in random places, the Word of God, the Love of God is tenacious and adaptable.

So - regardless of the distractions, or our ability to receive the word or the love – God crops up in our lives over and over, waiting for us to receive God's love into our lives where it can grow – beautiful and hearty, fruitful, and productive – God's grace growing in and through us, creating a community garden of love.

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Family Stories

2011-07-02T19:43:00.001-05:00

A reflection on Genesis 24, Proper 9A

The other night I found myself watching the movie, “Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood,” starring Ellyn Burstyn and Sandra Bullock. Its one of those movies I’ve seen a dozen times but still enjoy.

The plot revolves around a dysfunctional mother-daughter relationship, and a group of the mother’s friends who have known one another all their lives.

The daughter, a playwright in NYC has an interview published in the NY Times magazine, and it comes across as highly critical of the mother.

The mother reads the interview and flies into a dramatic rage. Correspondence flies back and forth, cutting the daughter from the will, sending the mother an invitation to the daughters wedding but the date and place have been cut out of the invitation, phone calls where one hangs up on the other.

Finally in exasperation the mothers friends fly to NYC, and with the fiancés help, kidnap the daughter and bring her back to the New Orleans area.

There they spend a week telling the daughter the story of her mothers's life. Its a tragic story but also funny, and well acted by a cast of great actors.

Dysfunctional family stories fill the book of Genesis from which our first reading this morning is taken.
In Genesis we have two stories of creation, the calling of Abraham and Sarah, of children born in old age, of a father who binds and almost kills his son Isaac – a story we would have heard last week if we had stayed with the lectionary.
Jews, Christians, and Muslims, have all had a field day trying to make sense of this Abraham and Isaac story with responses that vary from – it’s a story of child abuse, it’s a story about dependency on God, it’s a story about faithfulness, it’s a story about the ancient practice of human sacrifice.

Regardless of what the story is about what we hear in the rest of Genesis is that the relationship between Abraham and Sarah and Isaac is broken from this point forward – Sarah dies and Abraham arranges for a wife for Isaac, and the plot shifts to Rebekah, who as wife of Isaac, gives birth to Jacob and Esau.
The story of Jacob and Esau leads to other levels of conflict and anguish as Jacob, the second born, maneuvers to steal the birth right of Esau, the first born – and has his mother’s support to do it.
Jacob who wrestles with an angel and ends up with a new name - Israel, Jacob, whose own son, Joseph carries on the family saga, made popular in a musical starring Donnie Osmond.
Genesis is a very old text that has it's origins in stories told around camp fires as tribes travelled across the Middle East, Egypt, and areas of ancient Mesopotamia.
Genesis blends a number of stories that had have taken place over the course of hundreds of years, influenced by a number of emerging cultures.
Which is why we have two creation stories at the beginning of Genesis, as well as other conflicting elements.
But it's a rich text filled with timeless stories about the human condition.
Readings from Genesis will be our first reading through summer, accompanying stories of Jesus that we will hear in the Gospel.
The Gospel of Matthew begins with a genealogy that connects Jesus to David, a descendent of Abraham, Isaac, and Joseph.
As I said last week, Matthew is interested in showing how Jesus is the fulfillment of the law of Moses, the fulfillment of what is meant by - love God, love self, and love others.
And in that way Matthew connects Jesus to the family story we hear in Genesis, and ultimately we come to know these stories as our story, the family of God.
Stories that remind us that God has blessed our lives, that we might be a blessing to others.

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Pentecost

2011-06-13T15:55:00.000-05:00

A reflection on baptism and the readings for Pentecost, particularly 1 Corinthians 12

12:4 Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit;

12:5 and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord;

12:6 and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone
12:12 For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.

12:13 For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body--Jews or Greeks, slaves or free--and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.

Although she was only nine years old she knew that she wanted to be baptized. She went to church, week in and week out, walking herself down the street to the local congregation. Her parents were much more relaxed about church. So she asked them if they would arrange for her to be baptized. At first her parents thought she should wait until she was older. But eventually, as her asking became persistent, they relented, and a baptism was arranged.

The day of the baptism she arrived at the building that held the font. There she changed into the flowing white gowns of baptism and proceeded toward the font. A number of people were being baptized that day, and she had to stand in line. Finally her time came and she climbed the stairs to font. Her baptism would be by full immersion. The pool was a semi-circle, almost as large as an olympic pool, with a mural of Jesus being baptized. As she waited on the ledge, while the person in front of her was baptized, she suddenly realized just how deep the water was. It would easily be up to her shoulders. And she couldn't swim.

She became terrified. What if she drowned in the water? What if her uncle, who would baptize her, by tipping her over backward and under the water, what if he dropped her? And being backward and disoriented she inhaled water and drowned?

For a moment she thought about leaving, but there were people behind her, also waiting their turn. She was had no choice but to walk down the steps and into the pool. The water was warm, and deep. Easily up to her shoulders. Walking to the center of the pool where her uncle stood waiting for her, was slow and challenging in that deep water. Her fear rose higher. Her uncle greeted her, covered her nose with her hand and his, and with the other hand he tipped her backward into the water.

I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Up out of the water she came, alive, and relieved.

Fearing death through baptism might strike us a bit odd, but death and new life are metaphors for the baptismal event. The ancient church taught new members of the church that they were leaving behind, dying to, an old way of life, dying into the death of Christ, and rising again into a new life as a Christian, into the life and body of Christ. The girl was on to something mystical and ancient in this ritual we call baptism.

The ancient church also celebrated the gifts given to the apostles in baptism and again on the day of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit infused the community of people gathered, and called them into a new order, the church, the Body of Christ.

The gifts given were that each would live as God has called us, in Christ, to live: to love God, love others, and love ourselves. Each of us has a special calling from God, infused with gifts of the Holy Spirit. Some of us live out our gifts as musicians, or artists, or executives, or gardeners, or teachers, lawyers, doctors, or parents, or as someone who is ordained a priest, deacon, or Bishop.

On Thursday we celebrated the many ministries of this parish, and renewed our commitment to those ministries. Today we celebrate the a new member being welcomed into our community, our Christian family. We have been praying for Peyton Edward Kirkland for a month, preparing him and us, for this day. We have prayed for him by his first name and two middle names, because today his last name will become the same as ours – Christian. Today he will receive his gifts of the Holy Spirit, being born anew into a life in Christ. Our job, our ministry, is to support Peyton and his family, in their faith journey, just as it is our ministry to support each other with prayer and acts of kindness, with honesty and companionship, with love.

Praying Like Our Life Depends On It

2011-06-05T15:47:00.001-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Easter 7A, John 17:1-11

I was two years old when I had to have my tonsils out. Back in those days they kept kids over night. The evening before the surgery my parents delivered me to the hospital, got me ready for bed, and then when visiting hours were over, they had to leave. Parents were not allowed to stay overnight. I remember standing in the crib, in my pajamas, and saying over and over “Let me out of this crib, I am not a baby!” And, when the nurses refused to let me out I started shaking the crib. In my memory, which might be faulty, I shook that crib across the room. And, at some point I managed to climb out of it. I refused the magic fairy juice, which I'm sure was intended to make me go to sleep. I have no idea how long I tormented that hospital staff, but it was daylight when I arrived, and it was long dark when I finally fell asleep. But, what I remember most clearly about that night is my uncle. My mother's only brother, and an “Elder” in the church, came to pray for me. I have a distinct memory of him laying hands on my head and praying. In my memory, I went to sleep right after. Like his prayer calmed me and soothed me to sleep.

My next memory of prayer takes place when I was in grammar school. From about first grade through sixth or seventh grade, I prayed every night before bed. I prayed for my family, and I prayed for every single person in my classroom. I went down the rows, from the first desk to the last, and prayed for each person by name. And, if I happened to know of some concern, I prayed for that too. I prayed for my teachers, too.

I'm fairly certain that I didn't pray much at all in high school, at least not consciously and intentionally. I was a contemplative kid, though. I wrote poetry, and listened to music, and pondered the world around me. Some would consider these to be prayer like activities, and perhaps they were, even though they were not intentionally prayerful.

In 1976, while a sophomore in college, I learned to meditate. Transcendental Meditation was all the rage. A center was established in my college town and I decided to learn. I've been a practitioner of meditation ever since. I even remember my “mantra” although I hardly every use it anymore. I quite enjoyed my mediation practice, and grew to appreciate it even more when I began to practice yoga. Yoga taught me other forms of mediation.

Eventually I found my way to the Episcopal Church and the Book of Common Prayer. True, my first six months or so of worship in the church were very un-worship like, as I struggled to understand the order of the prayer book, and why we flipped back and forth from one section to another. But over time I grew to love the book, and found some beautiful prayers in it. I can't tell you how many times I have prayed this prayer, found in the evening prayer:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or
weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who
sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless
the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the
joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.

And, so I learned to pray with words and became dependent on the prayerbook for the words I prayed. It wasn't until many years later that I learned about Centering Prayer, a Christian form of silent prayer, usually done in a group. And then, ordained a priest, I learned to pray with others, using words, but not always frm the prayer book. Extemporaneous prayer, making up the prayer in the moment, took some practice, but is a lovely way to pray. I think this poem from Mary Oliver helped me become comfortable with extemporaneous prayer:

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

The Gospel reading continues the story of Jesus with the disciples, on Maundy Thursday, at that final meal. Jesus is praying with and for his friends. The world, then and now, is full of challenges. And so, "it is critical that the church remind itself that it is the recipient of Jesus' prayer…that God will be present in the life and mission of the faith community," (Gail R. O'Day John, New Interpreter's Bible).
We can understand the prayer more fully if we understand what Jesus means by “glorify.”

In the Gospel of John, the incarnation is about the glory of God: "And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). The glorification process begins in chapter 12, with Mary anointing Jesus' feet and he says: "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified" (John 12:23). Glory (doxa) and glorify (doxazo) appear forty-two times in John, most of them in chapters 13-21. More than one-third of all NT occurrences of the verb "glorify" occur in this gospel.
The rest of the gospel unpacks this notion of glory and, more surprisingly, our own participation in it. So, here's the point: glory is about God's presence, about an intimate relationship between God and humanity, that God created this world,with the intent that all creation should be in unity with God and one another. Jesus, in the incarnation, life, death, and resurrection, reveals this as God's sole intention, the unity of God to all creation. The glorification of Jesus, is the uniting of Jesus to God, and therefore the uniting of us, and all creation, with God.

Jesus' prayer reminds us that the purpose of prayer is to help unite us, very intentionally to God. To build our relationship with God. To let God know our concerns, and to be quiet enough that God can speak to us. As Episcopalians, we are united with God and one another through our common worship. As individuals we hold many different values and understandings of life and politics, country, God, and faith, but gathered in worship we set aside our individual selves and become one in a community of prayer. The glorification of Jesus was for this purpose, that we all may become one body knit together in love.

Love That Binds

2011-05-29T15:37:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Easter 6A, John 14:15-21

A recent article on MSNBC Today internet news tells this story: “Michelle Feldstein was prepared to provide special accommodations for the blind horse she recently added to the flightless ducks, clawless cats and homeless llamas inhabiting her animal shelter in Montana.

But nothing could prepare her for (what actually happened)....

“Sissy came with five goats and five sheep – and they take care of her,” said Feldstein, the force behind Deer Haven Ranch, a private rescue facility she runs with her husband, Al, on 300 acres north of Yellowstone.

The seeing-eye sheep and guard goats are never far from the white mare, and they never lead her astray. They shepherd Sissy to food and water, and angle the horse into her stall amid blowing snow or driving rains.

“They round her up at feeding time and then move aside to make sure she gets to eat” Feldstein said. “They show her where the water is and stand between her and the fence to let her know the fence is there.”

Feldstein rescued the horse and her companions from another rescue facility in western Montana where they were slated to be put down. She says, “There's a magic involved in sheep, goats, and a horse becoming friends...and you have to wonder, why can't people do that?”

Jesus says, “If you love me you will keep my commandments.” Jesus also says, “The greatest commandment is this, that you shall love God, love others, and love yourself.” The Gospel of John, the Easter season Gospel, is all about love. Not the mushy, warm and fuzzy love, but mostly the hard kind of love, extending compassion and care to the least of God's creation, and the human beings that challenge us the most.

In the Gospel of John it is night, the end of one long Easter day, and Jesus is about to leave the disciples and ascend to heaven. Today's reading is known as his “farewell” address, and is filled with his efforts to assure his disciples and calm their fears. The disciples have had one heck of a weekend, right? If this reading comes at the end of Easter Day, then the last few days in the lives of the disciples were the last supper, the crucifixion, the startling resurrection, and the appearances of Jesus. And, now the final preparation for him leaving them again.

Last Sunday I spoke about the nature of God - as the One who creates life and recreates new life out of chaos, often using human hands and hearts to manifest God's love in the world. As some prepared for the end of the world based on some mathematical equation derived from Noah and the flood, others in this country were dealing with real life struggles and tragedies. This has been the most destructive tornado season on record. Sunday night the massive tornado destroyed portions of Joplin, MO. Tuesday night found me following Facebook and Twitter updates as many of my friends in Texas and Oklahoma sought shelter from several waves of tornadoes. Those same storms blew through Ohio and Michigan dumping buckets of water on us.

One Facebook friend to wrote, “For some, the world ends every day...”

For some the world ends every day.

The disciples knew this feeling. But they also learned what comes after, what comes with love. I don't know if we could call the actions of the sheep and goats tending to Sissy, acts of love. But it could be. I certainly think that animals are capable of emotion. Perhaps on some level they understand that their lives are fragile, that they were facing a sure and certain end, perhaps some aspect of that reality brought them together and formed them into this caring mis-matched troup of sheep and goats and a blind horse. I also imagine that in some regard, in some way, there is a presence of love between them. And, in that regard, Feldstein has it right, they model for us, how we too are called to love.

In un-predictable ways, in mis-matched ways, with people we least expect. Called to love like this because that is how Jesus loved- with outcasts and sinners, with women and fishermen, with tax collectors, and children, the lost, the broken, the sick, with everyone and anyone.

And now the news is filled with stories of rescue, of people helping other people. My little Facebook and twitter group, are holding in prayer, a string of people across this country from Oklahoma City, to Dallas, Texas, to Joplin, Missouri, to Memphis, Tennessee, to Little Rock Arkansas, to Huntsville, Alabama, to Dayton Ohio – people known “in real life” and those known only through social networks, but all who know the other as “friend.”

I have had the opportunity these last couple of weeks to visit with some of our home-bound parishioners. People, who, in their younger years, were vibrant members of this parish. I bring them communion, I anoint them and pray with them. I take the time to listen to their stories and try to see this church through their eyes, their love. I hope to give them a space to remember, and place to be remembered. I hold their sorrow and sadness as they describe what it is like to be the last of their generation, to have all of their friends gone. I try to bring to them a sense of being cared for, of the love that resides in this congregation, among all of you. And I strive to honor the reality that we are here because they were here, just like those who come after us will be able to do so because we are here now.

Through out time, what binds us together, from Jesus to the disciples, from the founding members of the Christian church to the founding members of this church, and through every generation that has worshiped here, is the love of God. The love of God made known to us through Jesus, through prayer and song, through bread and wine, through hands extended out to share the gifts, where strangers become friends and friends become family, guiding one another through joys and travails of life. A mis-matched bunch, perhaps, but one united, nonetheless, in the love of God.

I think its awesome that Feldstein and her husband are caring for animals who would otherwise have no home. But I think it is sad that she does not know human beings who show the same kind of love and compassion for other humans as she sees in the guidance of the sheep and goats for the blind horse. All around us are human beings doing this, reaching into chaos and, acting as agents of God's love, working to bring forth wholeness, through love and compassion for others. From Japan to Chile, from the Australia to the Gulf Coast, across this country and around the world, people stepping into the chaos and helping, restoring order, a sign of hope, hearts of love. I hear this, too, in the stories of this church through the decades, and I witness it every day as I come to know you.

If you love me, you will keep my commandment, to love God, love others, and love self.

Out of Chaos

2011-05-22T19:41:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Easter 5A: Acts 7:55-60, John 14:1-14

All week long my colleagues and I joked on Facebook about the pending “end of the world” - which since we are still here, did not happen yesterday. Apparently some mathematical configuration found in the Bible defined May 21, 2011 as the day of the rapture – the return of Christ – potentially leaving the world in upheaval and chaos as “some are taken up to God” and some are left behind.

Charles Hardy, in his book, The Empty Raincoat, has some thoughts on the idea of chaos. He writes:

“Management and control are breaking down everywhere. The new world order looks very likely to end in disorder. We can't make things happen the way we want them to at home, at work, or in government, certainly not in the world as a whole. There are, it is now clear, limits to management....

Scientist call this sort of time the edge of chaos, the time of turbulence and creativity out of which a new order may jell. The first living cell emerged some four million years ago, from a primordial soup of simple molecules and amino acids. Nobody knows why or how. Ever since then the universe has had an inexorable tendency to run down, to degenerate into disorder and decay. Yet it has also managed to produce from that disorder an incredible array of living creatures. Plants, and bacteria, as well as stars and planets. New life is forever springing from the decay and disorder of the old.

At the Santa Fe Institute, where a group of scientists are studying these phenomena, they call it 'complexity theory.' They believe that their ideas have as much relevance to oil prices, race relations, and the stock market as they do to particle physics...(that) the edge of chaos (is) the one place where a complex system can be spontaneous, adaptive and alive....” (end quote, The Empty Raincoat, Arrow Books, 1995, pg. 16).

In a way, this describes our Christian understanding of life: that from chaos came life. We hear it in Genesis, and it's the resurrection story too.

Granted, today's reading from Acts gives us a particular snapshot of the chaos, of the struggles of the Christian life. Stephen, who is known as the first Deacon of the church, has run into trouble. Some people have rejected his leadership and the punishment is death. Stephen, as he faces the end of his life, offers us a mystical glimpse of his faith, and his confidence in the love of God. He asks for forgiveness for those who judge him and expresses trust in the life to come. His confidence in the love of God is intended to remind us to invest our selves in this life, this world, acting as agents of God's presence, God's compassion, even when we face challenges, struggles, fears, and chaos. Stephan’s faith believes that out of chaos comes new life.

The stories we hear from Acts of the Apostles are of the challenges of the early church being birthed into life from the tragedy of two events: the crucifixion of Jesus, and the chaos of the Roman-Jewish war that destroyed the temple in the year 72. Those who formed the early church were Jews who worshiped, as they always had, in their home synagogues, creating two branches of Judaism that co-existed for some forty years. That is, until the temple was destroyed and the Jewish people were scattered. The temple was the heart of Jewish faith – the temple was where God lived, where people came to be in the presence of God. The tension of that chaotic time - the death of Jesus and the destruction of the temple - separated the followers of Jesus from those who followed the teachers of Moses. Judaism took on a new life, formed in smaller groups around a single teacher, and the rabbinic tradition was born. The story we hear in Acts reflects the movement of those who rejected the rabbinic movement and followed the teachings of Jesus, giving birth to Christianity. Out of chaos comes new life.

Our Psalm this morning points us in this same direction. It's a beautiful Psalm. One that Jesus clearly knew from his Jewish upbringing. In the Gospel of Luke, the final words of Jesus on the cross are from this Psalm: “Into your hand I commit my Spirit.”

The Psalmist reminds us that in the midst of chaos and confusion and tragedy, God is ever present. God walks with us, God carries us, God abides with us, God never leaves us. But more than that, the resurrection reminds us that God always scoops into the chaos and brings forth new life. But God doesn't do this alone.

In the Gospel reading Jesus expresses a profound mystical understanding of the presence of God, a presence found in this life and in the life to come. Without spelling this out in concrete detail of date and time and place, Jesus speaks with assurance of the comprehensive love of God, now and in the future. As Christians we understand this abiding love of God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. For us, Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. The opening passages of John's Gospel remind us that Jesus is a particular expression of God's-self. The Word, as an expression of God manifests as Jesus. The prologue to the Gospel of John suggest that the Word is more than a person made flesh, the Word has been part of God's expression into the world since before creation. The Word spoke into the chaos and brought forth order, new life, land and water, sun, moon and stars, and every living creature. The Word expresses God's self into all creation, into the life of Jesus, and continues to express God's love into the world through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Some believe that the Word expresses God's self into other faith traditions, into Judaism and Islam, and maybe others, as well. Who knows? The Word of God, God's self expression, is mystical and beyond our ability to know fully. As Christians we know God in the Trinity; specifically in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Understanding God and the purpose of our lives through Jesus, through baptism, and through the gifts of the Holy Spirit, shapes and forms who we Christians are as human beings. However, this reading from the Gospel of John is less about our faith and more about how we make meaning of our faith. This reading calls us to not only model our lives on Jesus, but to do even greater things – love even more abundantly, give even more generously, live even more expansively, than Jesus. That is a high calling!

Thankfully the reading reminds us that the power, the ability to do even greater things than Jesus did during his life, does not come from our own ability. Rather, this ability comes from our relationship with God, and is always a God-infused gift of opportunity and ability. Out of the chaos God brings forth new life. Through the incarnation, when the Word became flesh, we learn that God sometimes chooses to do God's work through human life. In the resurrection we learn that God sometimes chooses to renew creation through human life. And, so, likewise God sometimes chooses to use us, to enable us to be partners in co-creating the well-being of the world. We are called to be the hands and heart of Christ, called to respond to the broken places of this world with love and compassion, to heal and to help, generously.

Out of chaos,

comes new life.

What's In A Name....

2011-05-16T16:13:00.000-05:00

A reflection on readings for Easter 4A: Acts 2:42-47, John 10:1-10

When I was a young girl my mother was fond of telling me the story of how she named me. The top five names for girls in 1957 were: Mary, Susan, Debra, Karen, and Linda. My mother wanted a different name for me, unique and unusual, at least in her mind. She had a photo of me that was printed in the Salt Lake City newspaper on my first birthday, along with all the other kids celebrating first birthday's. The photographs made her point, three of the girls were named Debra and then there was me, Terri Lynnette: Terri spelled with two “r's” and an “i.” Simple as my name is I have had to spell it for people my entire life. And, in my entire childhood the only other Terry's I knew were boys. Sometimes I wished for a typical girl's name. Now, I know other women with the name Terri, although there are a number of different spellings.

My mother's given name was Joan, but in her 40's, with her children grown, and following a divorce from her second husband, she claimed a new identity through her Irish heritage. As a natural red-head with green eyes, she legally changed her name to Shannon.

Regardless of how intentional we are in selecting names, compared to the ancient world, the modern practice of naming is arbitrary. In the world of Jesus and those who came before him, Abraham and Sarah, names designated something particular about the person. Through God's blessing Abram, Sarai, and Saul under-go a change of name – Abram becomes Abraham, Sarai becomes Sarah, and Saul becomes Paul – the great St. Paul. The name change for these people in the Bible signifies a change in who they are, their identity has changed. The names of people in the Bible give us insight into who the person is.

In the Bible the name of God is a central theme. Knowing the divine name gives privilege to some, and invoking that divine name, according to Biblical stories, brings gifts of grace. Can you think of some the names of God that you know of from the Bible? In the Hebrew Bible God is named “El” which is also translated as “God.” Also - “El Elyon” - God most high; “El Olam” - everlasting God; “El Shaddai” - Almighty God. God revealed God's name to Moses as “I AM” which over time became known as YHWH – and is sometimes pronounced as Yahweh – although traditionally it is not said out loud. Christians have traditionally used Lord – a male noun describing authority; Adonai – which also means Lord; and Kyrios which for the ancient Greeks distinguished God from the Roman emperor.

The ancient Christian Church soon adopted Lord as the title for Jesus. But there are many other names for Jesus found in the Bible. Can you think of some? Here are a few names for Jesus that we find in the New Testament: Word, Lamb of God, Son of God, Rabbi, Messiah, son of Joseph, King of Israel, Son of Man, Emmanuel, bread, vine, a mother hen, and, from our reading in John this morning, the good shepherd.

Many of the passages in scripture, including the Acts of the Apostles, which we hear every year in the season of Easter, remind us that the Christian life and faith proceeds from and , in, the name of Jesus.

In a few weeks, on the feast of Pentecost, we will baptize a new member into our community of faith and into the Christian Church. From now until that day we will pray for this young baby, by his first name Peyton, and his two middle names – Edward and Kirkland. But we won't use his last name, his surname because in baptism we all the same last name – Christian. So in a few minutes, when we pray for Peyton Edward Kirkland remember in the back of your mind that he will soon add another name – Christian. He will join us in the family of faith.

Being named Christian, and claiming our mutual identity as members of the family of Jesus, calls us to a particular identity. It's this forming and claiming of identity that brings us here each Sunday. Here to be reminded, through scripture, and prayer, and hymns, what we are to be about as the family of Christ. In other words, Christian is not only a noun, but it's also a verb. Christian is a call to action, to follow the shepherd, to live abundantly.

What do you think of when you consider what it means to live abundantly? I imagine most of us have had a change of heart about that term over the ten years or so. For most of us living abundantly no longer means having more things, bigger and better stuff. As Christians living abundantly has a particular context that models the life and ministry of Jesus. It means something along the lines of having abundant generosity and compassion for ourselves and for others.

One of my favorite television programs is “The Good Wife.” Tuesday night's episode was particularly gripping as Alicia wrestles with the betrayal of her husband's brief affair with her best friend and co-worker, Calinda. In one scene, Calinda, the tight-lipped, unemotional, private investigator for the firm, distraught over her broken friendship with Alicia, begins to fall apart. All alone in an elevator she dissolves into tears. In another scene, her boss, Will, a partner of the firm, notices that Calinda is not her self. Reaching out with care and compassion he suggests to her that one day she will need to confide in someone. But Calinda, stoic and resolute, responds, “There is one thing I have learned, I NEVER have to confide in anyone.”

As human beings we are born with a complex range of emotions and feeling. We need each other in order to become fully who we are intended to be. Our Christian identity is formative in that regard. Our call to live in community is intended to be supportive, each of us for the other. Day in and day out living our life of faith, worshiping together, praying together, breaking bread together – either in the Eucharist or over a meal – spending time learning about our faith and one another, being present for each other through our struggles and our joys – are all part of our Christian identity. Living a life of faith transforms us. Embraced in the love of Christ, in the security of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, we learn that we are not alone. Living the life of faith teaches us the depth of God's love for us, we come to know that love as an inherent component of our identity. And in being loved, and named as God's beloved, we are called to do like wise, to go and love others as Christ loves us.

- Portions of this reflection were informed by: Gail Ramshaw, “Treasures Old and New” Images in the Lectionary, from the chapter, “Name of God”

Easter 3A: How Shall We Respond?

2011-05-07T19:30:00.000-05:00

A reflection the reading from Luke for Easter 3A

Recently I attended a worship service, as a member of the congregation, at the church where a friend of mine is the rector. When it was time for the peace my friend greeted me and my husband Dan and moved on. It was clear to me that my friend did not recognize me.

Now, I wasn't surprised by this, my friend hasn't seen me in person for 13 years. We do “talk” on Facebook but otherwise we have lived in different states. Actually I have grown accustomed to people not recognizing me. If I change the way I wear my hair people won't recognize me. If I pull it back, wear down, let it go curly or blow it dry and straighten it, or change the color, or the length, some people will look right past me.

So I was neither surprised nor concerned about this. Later, when the service was over we joined the group of people leaving the church, and then I had the opportunity to tell my friend who I was. Then of course, she recognized me immediately.

I imagine we all have had similar experiences when we either failed to recognize someone or have not been recognized ourselves.

And so perhaps this universal experience is one reason that our reading today is so well known. Every year on the third Sunday after Easter we hear the story of the couple on the road to Emmaus who encounter Jesus but fail to recognize him in his resurrected state.

This is just one of a series of stories about people who fail to recognize the resurrected Jesus. Scripture tells us that his body still showed clear signs of the trauma he'd been through. Our reading last week had Thomas asking to see those wounds as proof that the man speaking to him really was Jesus. The woman at the tomb thought he was the gardener. Even though he carried the wounds, his appearance changed just enough, that people didn't recognize him. Well, that and of course, no one expected to see him. In the reading it is still the first day of Easter. Only a short time had passed from that tragic Good Friday to these resurrection appearances, and a lot had transpired in that time.

A lot has been going on our world too. Take for example what has happened just since March 9, which was Ash Wednesday. My husband and I drove to Dearborn that morning for our final round of meetings with the search committee, vestry, and Bishop. And, we had a great time meeting people we knew from phone interviews or the site visit, or by name only. Two days later, the meeting and greeting completed, we prepared to return to Chicago. Do you remember that morning of March 11? We woke to the news of the earthquake and Tsunami that hit Japan and was moving toward Hawaii.

A few weeks later, having accepted the call to come here, my husband and I drove back. The car was loaded with a few belongings, our three dogs, and our two cats. The moving truck brought everything else. It was Holy Week, just before the arrival of the Rev. Terry Jones. As Dan and I unpacked we watched the local news, intrigued by the trial. Shortly thereafter the rash of deadly tornado's hit the south, impacting people I know in Little Rock, Arkansas and Huntsville, Alabama. Then Terry Jones returned to Dearborn, there was a royal wedding, and then, last Sunday, bin Laden.

It's only been 8 weeks since our visit for Ash Wednesday – but even in that short time much in the world has changed....some parts are now unrecognizable, not likely to ever be quite the same again.

Monday I began my first week here. Part of my work in these early days is to learn as much as I can about this church, who each of you are, and the work that has gone on before me. Sometime on Monday I opened the Rector's email and found a long email thread from the Dearborn Interfaith Community, their responses to the death of Bin Laden.

Here's a bit of what was said in that email thread:

I just ask Everyone to Pray, Be Safe, and Remain Cautious as You Pray!!

And Remember The Military and others who are still out there in The Middle East.

Obviously the death of Bin Laden is not necessarily the total death for Al-qida nor terrorism.

We all need to work together to promote the message of peace and justice and returning to the true teachings of the Lord, brought to us through Abraham, Moses, Jesus and Mohammad (peace be upon them)....

Terrorism and extremism should have no room in any religion, of course neither injustice and oppression.

Yes, Let's Continue to Pray. And Let Our Actions Be Peaceful and Positive.

Speaking again With "One Voice"

Now is a time to build in unity. "

I don't know any of the people who wrote these emails. I am included in the thread by virtue of being the rector here. I was able to gather that they represent a range of clergy from both Christian Churches and the Muslim Community. I have no idea if any of those who commented are Jewish.

I am struck by the level of compassion and care everyone expressed for everyone else, a gracious response. No call for celebration, but a call for prayer and unity. In fact a couple of days later the Ayatollah invited all the clergy to attend a thank you dinner at the Islamic Institute of Wisdom. An invitation to gather as a group, break bread, and share our common faith in a gracious and loving God.

The recent events in our world, and this snippet of an email thread, point us to the message in today's Gospel reading. Life is unpredictable. Stuff happens. Tragedies happen. Blessings happen. Moments of feeling clear and certain are fleeting. Inspiration comes and goes. Health is temporary. “But, God is in each detail, filling it with holiness and then moving on the next and inviting us to follow. Faithfulness is in the remembering but also in movements that create new memories and new possibilities. As the Emmaus story notes, hospitality is the open door to creative transformation and an expanded vision of possibilities.” (Bruce Epperly, Faith and Process blog).

In truth, what happens is often less important than how we respond to what happens.

This couple, walking down the road, did not recognize the man who joined them on the journey. They are grieving from so great a tragedy. But their sorrow did not prevent them from being gracious. Sad as they were they reached out to this stranger and invited him to share a meal with them. Their response to loss and sorrow and tragedy, was grief, indeed, but it was also gratitude and gracious hospitality.

Here at Christ Church we have a lot to be thankful for and much to celebrate. It is a great joy for me to be here with you. I look forward to coming to know each of you by name and by face. Over the next few weeks we will have occasion to celebrate and rejoice the hard work of the search committee and vestry and the coming together of this new relationship between me, the next rector, and you, the congregation. Let us rejoice and be glad as we begin this journey together. And may it be for us and those we touch in the world around us, a journey filled with graciousness and hospitality to friend and stranger, alike.

Be Salt

2011-02-07T13:15:00.000-06:00

A reflection on proper for Epiphany 5A – Isaiah 58:1-12, Matthew 5:13-20, St. Lawrence, Libertyville, IL

I woke up the other morning thinking of the word Iconic, so I decided to “Google” it, just to see what came up. Referring to iconic as something that has “cultural significance” I chuckled when I read on Wikipedia that The Christian Examiner nominated it to its list of overused words, finding over 18,000 "iconic" references in news stories alone. The third item on that Google page was a story published in the Seattle Times, titled, An Iconic Storm. The story described the experience of one woman stranded for eight hours in her car on Lake Shore Drive during the recent snow storm.

I spent 23 hours of that storm in a house without electricity or heat as temperatures plunged to subzero. I was grateful my family made it home and no one I knew was stuck outside in their car. In the snow storm of 1979 I was one of those trying to get home on public transportation – a forty minute trip took me over five hours as the train line shut down and everyone was forced onto crowded buses. Call it what you will, iconic or not, storms like these have cultural significance!

In ancient Israel salt was significant. It was the primary preservative for food as well as being used to enhance flavor. People had a special relationship with salt, more than merely useful, it was potent; salt impacted their lives. Most significantly to the Hebrew people, salt represented, in its iconic nature, something akin to God.

Jesus says, “WE ARE salt.” Jesus doesn’t say we “ought to be” or “we should be” salt. Jesus says WE ARE salt. As salt our purpose is to bring out, enhance, the fullness of God - in and through - our lives. But, “salt doesn’t work alone. It preserves, adds flavor, and zests up food and drink. It changes the soil, the water, and the function of the human body. For salt to work, it must be used with something. To be a disciple, Jesus is saying, is to be salt, mixed right into the middle of life, adding some zest, working together, human beings, God, and creation, making a difference in the quality of life.”

Last week in her sermon and address for your annual meeting, Patti wondered what we would say if Jesus, sitting in the front row, asked us what we were going to do to further the mission of God in 2011. What would we say to Jesus?

Our reading from Isaiah points us in the direction Jesus might intend. Isaiah, whom Jesus quotes often in the Gospels, reminds us that we are to “loose the bonds of injustice...and, in so doing, light shall break forth like the dawn.” We have a responsibility to be aware of the injustices in the world around us, to become informed and then to care, to have compassion, and to try and make a difference; to enhance God’s love in the world, to be the hands and heart of Christ, to be salty turning suffering into light.

As people of faith we pray for a peaceful outcome to the turmoil in Egypt. In this Diocese we are building schools and churches in Renk, Sudan, we help support their Bishop, Daniel Deng Bul, and we pray for peace there too. Recent news stories have highlighted the injustice that thrives in our own country – teen bullying, domestic violence, and human trafficking and slave labor particularly that of tricking young Latino and Asian girls into thinking they were being hired for one kind of work, only to become abused and held against their will – are just a few examples of the issues in our own backyard. There are all kinds of storms in life.

We Are the salt.

I don’t know about you, but I find it daunting to be told by Jesus that I am salt and light, called to enhance the love of God in this world, to become aware of the world around me, and to bring forth justice through acts of compassion.

I know there are all sorts of things the congregation of St. Lawrence is doing to expand the kingdom of God’s love in this community and the world around you. Your contributions to the food pantry, support of the homeless, the day care center that shares your space, the local soup kitchen, and contributions to Episcopal Relief and Development, Episcopal Charities, and United Thank Offering – you are being “salty” - busy caring for friends and strangers alike! Likewise, I heard that you had an energetic annual meeting, filled with ideas for how you will be salt and light in 2011.

I have spent the last year working with the National Council of Churches and the Episcopal Church Center in New York developing, what we think will be a significant project. It’s called the WordsMatter Expansive Language Project and is a tool designed to help congregations and small groups have important conversations about who they are as a people of God. Centered in personal story sharing, the conversations are intended to increase our self-awareness and our sensitivity to others particularly around the language we use in worship and everyday life. And, by language we mean, the words, images, and symbols we use to talk about God, ourselves, and other human beings. The hope is this guide will help us expand our understanding and compassion within the context of an increasingly diverse world.

Some of the people I have taught to use the WordsMatter conversation guide have told me that it has come just in the nick of time. Just as they were thinking of leaving church, fatigued and worn thin from rhetoric that limits one’s view of God, self, and others, some people have found new hope. This is one way I am working to be salt and light in the world.

Jesus reminds us: “You are the light of the world. ..let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

In this day and age it’s a curious experience to be snowed in, stranded in a house without electricity or heat. 23 hours without power we were unable to watch the news, use our computer, recharge our cell phones, or create enough light to read. In a way we were isolated and disconnected to the world around us. I missed Ground Hog day all together – but I heard that the ground hog has declared that spring is coming early this year? Few words can describe the relief and joy that accompanied the moment the power went back on – just like that – and we had light again.

We do not live as isolated human beings – we live in a vast global network of creation – and all around there is pain and suffering and people struggling. It doesn’t require a major storm to remind us that we need each other. But always, even in the midst of the worst storm life throws our way, comes a light, an act of love, simple compassion, and we remember, God loves us, God is with us. So go, Be Salt!

Hope for Our Souls

2011-01-09T22:03:00.001-06:00

I didn't preach today but I did go to church. I went wondering what words of comfort or wisdom I would hear to help me understand the violence, anger, and insanity, that fed the shootings in Tucson on Saturday. I know this shooting feels particularly personal to me because I lived there for a time and I have been to several events with Congresswoman Giffords. I hold her in high regard. When I heard the news yesterday I was stunned and profoundly saddened.

Having lived there, I know first-hand the propensity toward anger, prejudice, and violence that exists. Alarmingly, these have been increasing over the last few years,particularly in that region of Southern Arizona. It was disturbingly high and chronic in the small community I lived in south of Tucson. While it's true that members of the congregation carried concealed weapons which were always a concern, there were more pronounced issues to contend with. These included chronic, unresolved anger,a pronounced sense of entitlement, a high tolerance for inappropriate acting-out without consequences, and a higher than average level of depression and substance abuse. All of these were further fueled by systemic prejudice and fear.

On this Sunday morning when we gathered to celebrate the feast day of the baptism of Jesus, what sense could we make of the violence yesterday? Eighteen shot, six dead including a Judge and a nine year old girl, and a loved Congresswoman in critical condition, shot point blank in the head.

We didn't baptize anyone in the church I went to today, nor did we renew our baptismal vows, nor did the preacher talk about the meaning of baptism. It was a fine sermon., for another time. It just was not what I needed to hear on this day, the day after that tragedy.

Perhaps, if we had taken some time reflect on the Baptismal Rite, I may have found a bit of what I was hoping for, some understanding, some hope, some accountability?

Yes, accountability.

I know a young man shot these people...but we will fail to learn from this if we minimize this to him and his apparent “mental instability.”

We are a people who have gone astray. We are a people who have forgotten how to live in kindness. We are a people who have forgotten what it means to sin.

Then the Celebrant asks the following questions of the candidates who
can speak for themselves, and of the parents and godparents who speak
on behalf of the infants and younger children.

Question Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?
Answer I renounce them.

Question Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?
Answer I renounce them.

Question Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?
Answer I renounce them.

Question Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?
Answer I do.

Question Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?
Answer I do.

Question Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
Answer I do.

Do we really understand what we are saying here? What sin is? What evil is? Do we even really believe that there are such things as sin and evil? Or do we think the Church made them up just to make us feel ashamed and submissive?

As a society we tend to relegate sin to a set of cultural bound moral behaviors. This complicates and minimizes sin because these cultural bound moral behavior(s) deemed "sinful" change over time. Take divorce and remarriage, for example. The Church has enforced the idea that marriage is forever, regardless of how unhealthy a marriage is. The Church has said that divorce is a sin and remarriage is also a sin. In some churches today divorced and remarried people cannot receive Holy Communion.

Sometimes a marriage needs to end because the marriage is causing brokenness and harm. Sometimes marriages need to be worked on, for each party to examine the brokenness and work for reparation and reconciliation and forgiveness. Sometimes we just have to live our marriage vows, to love faithfully through good times and tough times, to work toward wholeness of self and other, instead behaving in ways that cause further brokenness.

The thing is, sin is about behavior - any behavior that causes harm to another and produces broken relationships with God, self, and other human beings. Looked at this way, as broken relationship, we can redirect our efforts from reducing sin to something it is not and toward what sin is.

I tend to define sin as any behavior that causes brokenness between God, self, and others. By this I mean anything that causes me to become broken with God, or broken with myself, or broken with others. Evil is the root that causes that brokenness. Evil is the force that tempts us. Evil is the power that draws us and pulls at us, distorting how we think and see, fooling us into self-deception, encouraging us to act upon self-deprecation, or grandiosity, arrogance, entitlement, and or violence. Evil is real and so is sin. Just look at how broken our world is. How lost we have become. How even basic civility has been pushed aside, how we have lost the ability to assume the best in others.

As a Christian I believe that we humans have souls. It's even possible that there is a “communal soul,” of sorts, that forms in congregations, in communities, in countries. The soul, individually and corporately, responds to how we nourish it and care for it, or neglect it. If we feed the soul with care and compassion we will show care and compassion to others. If we feed the soul with anger and mean-spirited words, we will become angry and mean spirited people.

Perhaps that is why the baptismal rite has the entire community listen to those taking these vows and then asks the community to respond with their support:

Celebrant Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their life in Christ?
People We will.

We are all responsible. We all need to renounce evil and embrace compassion, renounce sin, and embrace love, renounce fear and embrace trust, renounce anger and embrace hope. We need the redemption that can only come from turning away from behaviors that cause brokenness in the world, with God/self/others, and turning toward reconciliation. We cannot fool ourselves into thinking this is something we can do on our own - but we can do it with God's help.

In the Episcopal Church the baptismal covenant reminds us of this:

Celebrant Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?
People I will, with God’s help.

Celebrant Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
People I will, with God’s help.

Celebrant Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
People I will, with God’s help.

Celebrant Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
People I will, with God’s help.

Celebrant Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
People I will, with God’s help.

So, here is what I wanted to hear: we are all accountable for the sins and evils of the world we live, including the violence yesterday. We are accountable by things we have done and things we have not done. We are accountable by participating, in any way, in acts that have caused brokeness instead of acts that seek wholeness. We all need to turn and return to God, to seek absolution and reconciliation, and to move forward - with God's help - to live as God would have us live.

And, perhaps, with that, turning to God and with God's help living as God would have us, we will find hope for our souls.

Stories of Faith

2010-10-30T16:58:00.003-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 26C: Luke 19:1-10; St. John's, Chicago, IL.

It was a cold morning, a Saturday. I think it was 1995. A small group of us gathered here, in this space, for a Quiet Day, led by Bishop Wiedrich, then Bishop Suffragan of the Diocese of Chicago. Victor Von Schlagel was our priest. Bishop Wiedrich, known for his gift of story telling, opened up two stories from scripture, as I recall, taking a skeleton of a character in the life of Jesus and adding muscle and flesh, enabling the character to come to life. One character was Zacchaeus, from our Gospel reading this morning, and the other was Simon of Cyrene.

I no longer remember all the details of the stories Bp Wiedrich told, the specifics of what he said. But what I do remember is the gift of learning power of scripture to inform and form our faith stories, how they mirror our lives and offer us opportunities to understand how we, as individuals and communities, gain muscle and flesh and walk with Jesus through life’s deepest challenges, through pain and suffering and struggle, into hope, joy, and new life.

In 1989, six years before that Quiet Day with the Bishop, on a Saturday in October, I made a phone call to the office of this church. My husband D and I had decided to return to church. Our daughter was 15 months old at the time. Except for the day we were married, I hadn’t gone to church in 16 years. D had grown up in the Roman Catholic Church. The minister who married us four years earlier suggested that we consider the Episcopal Church, even though she, at the time, was a UCC pastor. So, finally ready to give church a try, I called the office to let the priest know that we were coming. I left a voicemail for the priest, B, who called me back a little later and assured me he’d look for us. Sure enough that Sunday morning we were welcomed by B and Masey and Elaine, Jaunita and Angela, and Julie and Scott who were married at the time, the Bolton’s, Mark and Lourdes, Cheryl, Mary, and KJ, Hugh –and others who soon became our church family. From that day on we came most every Sunday for ten years, and if we missed a Sunday or two Masey would call us, just to make sure we were ok.

D and I came back to church looking for community. We came looking for a place where we could grow in our faith as a family, and have people to grow with. We came looking for a place that would help us flesh out what it means to be Christians in the world today.

Our first annual meeting was an eye-opening experience. We worshipped and then had breakfast downstairs. KJ was the senior warden and she led the meeting – which as I recall was filled with quite a bit of anger and tears – people who felt neglected, who were not being tended too in pastoral concerns. Dan and I were a bit stunned. But as I’ve learned over time faith communities often have strong feelings and while it was my first, it is by no means, my only experience with conflict and strong feelings being expressed in the church. It didn’t scare us away, but taught us about the underbelly of love in a parish family.

In those early days of our time here, as we learned about the Episcopal Church through the Inquirer’s class, were confirmed and received in the fall of 1990 by Bp Griswald, I had no idea just how formational this congregation and this church would be for me and my family. I didn’t know then that I’d have great friendships with Angie and Nancy, and that our kids would spend so much time together. I didn’t know we’d have fall picnics with a jumping room and fire trucks, haunted houses and Halloween parties, Christmas pageants and pizza parties. I didn’t know that I would be formed by rummage sales and doing the dishes with other folks after an Ash Wednesday Fish Fry or the Thanksgiving dinner, or learning how to set the altar under the gentle training of Angela. And I had no idea that through this sharing of lives that my faith story would include discerning a call to the priesthood. A call which led to my ordaination on these steps on Dec. 28, 1999. But all of the things we did and the relationships we had with one another shaped and formed into the priest I am. I carry these stories with me and share them as examples of the power of faith communities.

In the years since my family and I have been gone, you have continued to grow in faith. From time to time I’d hear pieces of your story. Of how you have journeyed from that sad annual meeting, through the days of Bill, Victor, Tom, from a parish that had a tough time considering calling a woman as rector to a church that has subsequently sponsored three women in to the priesthood, me, Mary, and KJ, and now is finding new life and energy with Kara. I love to tell the story of your growth from a parish that wondered if it could ever grow again to one that is thriving and bursting with creative energy.

The story of St. John’s is a story of Zacchaeus, of responding with joy to the radical grace of God. It’s a story about the transformation that comes when people embrace the grace of God in their lives, and their faith community, in such a way that it to transforms lives – mine, yours, and enables us to walk with Christ into new life. I am grateful for this church, for all of you, grateful to call this my home church. I suspect you are too.

Grace, Connected

2010-10-23T15:58:00.002-05:00

A reflection on Luke 18:9-14 for Proper 15C, St. Mary's Crystal Lake, IL

A couple of years ago, while living in Arizona, the bishop organized our annual clergy conference to take place in a small town on the US/Mexico border. For the next 36 hours we immersed ourselves in learning about immigration and came away with a deeper understanding of the complexity of the situation. Recently the House of Bishops had this experience; Bishop Lee has posted a video of that experience on the Diocesan website.
As Christians we can’t, in good faith, dismiss this as a simple legal issue, one in which we have no accountability except to arrest those crossing over without documentation. At the very least we are involved because of the interwoven global economy not to mention the coffee industry. And who knows how the drug industry and slave trade actually impact our lives without our knowing, but I suspect they do. We have a responsibility to become informed.

Our time across the border was profound and left me with much to ponder. We spent the day visiting a shelter that housed those who had recently been deported back into Mexico and learned of the blistered feet and starving bodies, of robbery, rape, and abandonment. We toured a coffee co-op where families in Mexico had joined together to change their lives by growing, roasting, and shipping fair trade coffee with the support of a Presbyterian church in Mexico and an Episcopal church across the border in Douglas. And we toured a drug and alcohol rehab center of the outskirts of Agua Prieta. It was here that I learned something about life changing compassion in the midst of extreme poverty.

The rehab center had a habit of taking in anyone who showed up at the gate. They had a housing center for women and their children, another for men and even a place for the mentally ill. These were just buildings with concrete or dirt floors, and lots of bunk beds. They had a community hall for AA meetings, a shower room, and a kitchen for co-op cooking. People could come and stay as long as they needed. Everyone participated in cleaning and cooking and running the place. It was important to the director that people leave only when they had a job and could prove that they could keep that job, and when they had found a place to live outside the facility. They offered job training and job placement, often in the local hospital, where decent jobs could be found. The director shared his own story of recovery and how he had found that place years before, had gotten sober, and stayed on working until he became the director. But the most profound story he told was about a man he found wandering in the desert.

It was the custom of this director to pick up homeless psychotic people and bring them to the center where they were housed in a special locked area. Although locked, the area for the mentally ill was in the center of facility, and everyone could engage with the mentally ill. When I was there I saw a man who walked in circles, around and around. The director told us that one time he got a call about a man wandering in the desert. The director went out and picked him up. The man could not speak, he had no sense of who he was or where he was from. He was brought to the center and treated with medication, with love, shelter, food, and clothing. Every day for four years the man was cared for.

And then one day he woke up from his stupor and remembered who he was. He gave the director his name, where he was from in California, and the phone number of his parents. The director called his parents who were astonished that their son was found, and safe. They had lost contact with him years before and had no way of locating him, not knowing where he was at all. A few days later the family came and picked up their son. It was a joyful reunion. To this day that man is well, and the family continues to send gifts of gratitude to support the cause of rehabilitation at this center.

The border experience, and especially this humble rehab center, built on dirt and concrete floors, in the desert of Mexico, is an example of the grace we hear in our Gospel reading this morning. It has helped me see the ways in which we too are both the Pharisee and the tax collector, the ways we are whole and well, and good and faithful, and the ways we can become arrogant and presume that we are better than these broken, poor addicts, in a disgustingly filthy rehab center in Mexico. That is until we learn of the profound compassion that lives in that place, and then we realize just what it means to truly be faithful to the Gospel. What it means to love others, those known and unknown, with the compelling and comprehensive compassion of Christ.

Because the good news that we learn as a people of faith is that we are not completely separate independent people – we are instead interdependent with God and one another. Our lives are interwoven with God, with Jesus, with the Holy Spirit, with you, with me, with our neighbor and the stranger. We live in a web of connectedness.

When I work to enable my life to become better, and do so in a faithful manner, I am also impacting the lives of others, enabling their lives to become better. This is especially true when we are intentional in thinking about others, even as we think about ourselves. That intentionality can be as simple as the coffee we drink or the chocolate we eat. Drinking fair trade coffee supports farmers in Mexico and reduces their reliance on income from illegal drugs or illegal immigration. Eating fair trade chocolate reduces the opportunity for companies to exploit children, children who are often forced into slave labor for the production of our candy bars. There are simple ways we can become aware of the world around us. We are called to understand how we contribute, in ways we least expect to the problems.

We are good people, gathered here today, of that I have no doubt. But let us not get too full of our own goodness. Let us instead remember, that all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. For it is only by the grace of God that our lives are blessed and it is for the grace of God that we strive to judge not, but rather, be a blessing to others.

Pray All the Time, Use Words When Necessary

2010-10-16T21:10:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 24C:Jeremiah 31:27-34; 2 Timothy 3:14-4:5; Luke 18:1-8; St. James, West Dundee, IL

Occasionally I have a craving for LIFE cereal. The other day I opened a fresh box of Life cereal and poured it in a bowl for breakfast. But the cereal, instead of being those little squares in a basket weave, were crushed and came out shredded. The box was perfectly unmarked, no indication that the cereal inside was crushed. I wonder what happened? Did I just get the last dregs from the factory that day, all tumbled into one box? Who knows?

Likewise, we don’t know the exact circumstances that led the widow to the judge in our reading from Luke this morning. What we know of ancient societal customs tells us that widows were often social outcasts, poor, desperate, and struggling. We have no idea who her opponent is. But none of that is point of the story, the point is, like the judge, God hears our desperate pleas for justice, and grants them. God brings justice to the world. Of course, like all of Jesus’ parables, that’s the basic point, deeper meanings are uncovered as we delve into the story.

For example, I often wonder, especially in this day and age, what does God’s justice look like? How do we know it? These days an awful lot of people seem to have opinions on who God is and what God does. Opinions are flung around like the sand that blew thickly through my backyard when I lived in southern Arizona. Sand that would land in my pool leaving a thick residue of mud. That’s the image I have of the energy in our world today, whether we’re talking religion or politics...a lot of mud everywhere. I think this hostility and anger is a reflection of how broken and helpless we all feel.

Our readings have one thing in common – they speak of God’s call to us and our response. And that means they are speaking to us about prayer. Prayer is how we talk to God or rail at God or plead with God. And prayer is how God speaks to us. In the silent moments of prayer God speaks. I know, that sounds odd. How do we know God is speaking if God is silent?

Our reading from Jeremiah has something to say about that. This prophet Jeremiah is speaking about pain and suffering. He’s addressing the injustices of the world he lives in. There is a disproportionate amount of wealth held by leaders while the ordinary people go hungry and struggle. Jeremiah proclaims that God is with the people, God does not abandon the people, and will work to ease their life suffering. God promises that a new generations will be born in hope, with God implanted in their very beings: We hear God saying, “I took them by the hand, I married them” (Wil Gafney, Workingpreacher)

Essentially, Gos is promising that God's love will be internalized within all people. The love of God is internalized in us, it is part of who we are. God’s love is not dependent upon giving and receiving, it’s organic and innate to who we are. The words of Jeremiah feed our starving sprits. God has put God’s spirit, God’s love in us, where it lives and moves. How do we know this, you might wonder?

For me, I know God is at work in and within me when I feel a sense of peace regardless of the circumstances I’m facing. And it’s not just me who feels this peace. The mystics speak of it. The desert mothers and fathers speak of it. It’s a reality. Life can be rough. Life can throw us harsh curve balls. And yet, an inner sense of peace is possible. This I think God’s justice, is God’s love living within us and it manifests as a deep internalized sense of peace.

It reminds me of a poem by Wendall Berry:

When I rise up
let me rise up joyful
like a bird.

When I fall
let me fall without regret
like a leaf.

The ability to rise joyful and fall without regret, to live gently in this way, is perhaps a sign of God’s peace residing within.

But, how do we tap into God’s peace and enable it to resonate within us? For surely we can all say that there are times when feeling peaceful is impossible. And that’s true. There are times when being peaceful is impossible. There are times in life when it’s impossible to even imagine a sense of inner peace. We feel fraught and fractured and rail at God. We are, in essence the widow with her relentless petitions.

This parable tells us that the judge, who cared for no one, not God nor others nor this widow, is made weary of the barrage of petitions from the widow, relents and gives her justice. But God, unlike this judge does care – God cares for me, for you, for the widow, for the judge, for everyone. And because God cares God’s justice is deep, pervasive, and expansive.

But how is it that we open ourselves up to the potential of God’s justice, the possibility of God’s peace to reside in and through us? Elsewhere in scripture Jesus assures us that one way God’s justice manifests is through prayer. Think of the Lord’s Prayer, and of all the references to Jesus going off to pray. The last thing Jesus does on the cross is pray. Prayer is how we connect to God and how God’s justice is served in us and through us. Prayer is God’s love enlivened, and God's love enlivened is God's justice.

Now, if you are like me, you may think, but I’m no good at praying. I don’t know what words to use....and, again, I think of a poem. This one by Mary Oliver:

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak. (Mary Oliver)

Prayer can be as simple as sitting in silence – or as theologically complicated as the Eucharistic prayer we will pray in a few minutes. But either way we are making room for God to speak in and through our lives. God invites us into a relationship and when we take time to nurture that relationship and develop it God’s love grows within us and God's justice reigns.

One way we participate in nurturing our relationship with God is through prayer. Max Lucado, in his book, When God Whispers Your Name says this: “Pray all the time, use words when necessary.”

Prayer opens us up to God, prayer sustains our faith, and enables God’s peace to resonate inside of us. Living with an inner sense of peace puts a new perspective on our problems and the problems of the world around us. It’s like realizing that even if the cereal is crushed it still tastes the same, it’s still nutritious and good for me.

This new perspective
formed in prayer,
centered in peace
and expressed as love,
is God’s justice
made manifest.

What Feeds Your Soul?

2010-10-10T15:57:00.003-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 23C: 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c and Luke 17:11-19, St. Giles, Northbrook, IL

A few years ago, in Christian Century magazine, I read an article about a group of women who had started a blog ring. Each of the women, some ordained and some not, belong to different Christian denominations. Each had a personal blog as well as participating in the ecumenical blog ring. The article inspired me to start my own blog. That blog ring led me to meet a woman in California who was discerning a call to ordination. One day on her blog she posted a reflection she called “This I Believe.” A woman’s group in her church was doing an exercise to get to know one another and build trust. They decided one way to do this would be to participate in this exercise about belief. The facilitator of the group based the exercise on the essay writing series from National Public Radio’s “This I Believe.”

This I Believe is a national media project that invites Americans from all walks of life to share brief essays describing the core values that guide their lives. The project is based on a popular 1950s radio series of the same name hosted by Edward R. Murrow. The goal of This I Believe is not to persuade Americans to agree on the same beliefs; the goal is to encourage Americans to begin the much more difficult task of developing respect for and reaching a deeper understanding of beliefs different from their own.

Now, since that day I have heard a few of those essays. Sometimes they focus on a core value that has to do with why they love baseball and sometimes they focus on something more profound, like a moment that transformed their life.

Our readings today from 2 Kings and Luke offer us stories about faith which transforms the main character giving them a new awareness of God, self, and others. These stories reflect some core values that are expanded by the main characters’ newly transformed awareness. The stories we hear today move us through what it means to believe, to see, and then to do.

In 2 Kings Naaman is a powerful soldier who has become ill. His servants come to Naaman with a way to be healed and convince him to go to Elisha. Although Naaman goes to see Elisha he is a bit put off by what Elisha suggests. It’s not grand, it’s incredibly simple, the process that will heal him. So simple he can’t do it. Because he thinks it’s supposed to be some kind of powerful cure – for this powerful warrior.

In 2 Kings we hear: “if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, 'Wash, and be clean'?"

Well, it is a grand cure; it’s just a simple process that leads to it. God works in simple ways. Sometimes so simple we miss it if we aren’t looking.

Which leads us to seeing.

My husband and I have two dogs, one is twelve years old and the other is 8. For most of their lives they have had excellent hearing and eyesight. But as they age those traits are diminishing. Having active dogs, most days our primary goal is to exercise them enough to wear them out. Often we take them to a dog park where they can run off-lead. We make several rounds of walking the trails at the park. Then, before we leave, he and I separate as far apart as we can while still within eyesight of each other. My husband calls the dogs to come, and they run to him. Then I call the dogs to come and they run to me. Recently though, one of our dogs had a difficult time seeing us as we played this game. She would hear us call her and would take off in the general direction of our call but even though we were in plain sight, she couldn’t see us. Part of the problem is that there were a lot of other people between us and she couldn’t distinguish us from all the others.

Likewise sometimes our vision is over-stimulated and we are unable to see God active in our lives and the world. Or like Naaman our vision is masked by our expectations of how God ought to act.

In a moment of despair I can rarely say, “Oh, here is God active in my life and the world.” But in hindsight I can often say, “There is how and where God was acting.”

Likewise, once healed Naaman can see the action of God and returns to Elisha and says, "Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant."

Healed of his illness, Naaman sees the power of God in the world around him and it inspires him to do something. Likewise the healed leper in our Gospel reading is also inspired to do something. These lepers had a belief in the power of God which led them to come to Jesus asking to be healed. Seeing Jesus they cry out saying, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!"

In ancient Israel a person who was ill had to live on the fringes of the community in order to not infect everyone. A person who was cured of their illness had to be declared healed by the temple priests in order to be allowed back into the everyday life of the community. This is why Jesus sends them to the priest. The healing occurs on their way to the see the priests, from their belief in God and from the power of God active in Jesus and the Holy Spirit.

The readings today offer us examples of people who faced profound obstacles in life. From these obstacles they encountered choices. In a similar way each of us have faced difficulties and suffered in life. No one escapes this; it’s a part of life. Like Naaman and the leper, when faced with hardship and suffering we too have choices with how we respond. While we cannot often change the circumstances we can choose how we respond to what happens. In the face of challenges and adversity do we see danger or opportunity? Do we live with anger or do we find compassion? Do we become bitter or do we become better? What do we believe? What do we see? And what do we do?

It reminds me of an old story:

A Kid asks his Grandfather:

“Why do some people hurt others and are mean and why are some people kind and help others?”
The Grandfather says, “Because each of us have two wolves inside us. One wolf is angry, mean, bitter, and filled with fear. And, one wolf is kind, compassionate, and filled with love.”

The kid asks, “How do you know which wolf is angry and mean and which one is kind and compassionate?”

The Grandfather says “It depends on which wolf you feed!”

What are the core values of your life? What do you believe in and how do you act on your values and your belief? We all have options, what choices are you making? When faced with challenges and adversity what feeds your soul?

Faith of Grandmothers

2010-10-03T15:54:00.001-05:00

Proper 22C: Lamentations 1:1-6, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, and Luke 17:5-10, St. Lawrence , Libertyville, IL

It’s early in the month of May, in the year 1848. A young woman boards a ship with two small children in tow, a four year old boy and a two year old girl. The woman is three months pregnant and with her two other children is about to embark on a five month journey from Manchester, England to NYC and then across the United States to Utah. She leaves behind her husband, who will continue to work, earning money to support his family as they make the long journey. The father will follow in a year or so.

The woman and her children cross the Atlantic Ocean; it takes more than six weeks on the ship. A tragic outbreak of small pox claims the life of her two year old daughter. Landing in New York the mother and son take a boat and train from the coast, along the St. Lawrence Seaway, across Illinois to St. Louis. There they meet up with other members who are gathering for the wagon train journey. Soon they will travel northwest through Missouri into Iowa, across Nebraska and Wyoming, arriving some 13 weeks later in Utah. The wagons carry their possessions, the people walk. The woman, now five months pregnant walks too, and by the time she arrives at her new home she is 8 months pregnant. A month after her arrival at her new home she gives birth to a healthy baby.

This woman, my great grandmother, five generations back, made this journey for her faith. For me she stands as a powerful witness of faith in the face of adversity, suffering, and struggles.

For several weeks now the lectionary has offered us readings from Jeremiah. But, today’s reading takes us away from the prophet Jeremiah and offers us instead a reading from Lamentations. Although the author is unknown Lamentations is often considered to have been written by Jeremiah. It’s a collection of laments, in poetic form that echo poems that were common in ancient Mesopotamian cities. In this reading the narrator is actually a city, crying out from deep suffering, blaming God for the pain of the residents of that city. God, the narrator believes, has punished the people for failing to remain faithful to God, and now this voice cries out in sorrow and shame. Losing faith, losing sight of God comes with heavy consequences, or so this passage seems to tell us.

But Paul in his Letter to Timothy takes this idea a little further. Suffering, Paul claims, is less the act of a punishing God, and more the reality of what people feel when, for some reason, they become disconnected from God. Suffering is not so much the consequence of punishment inflicted by an angry God but more the consequence of our actions and what it feels like when we are separated from the God who loves us. More than that, I surmise that suffering is an aspect of life, it just is. No matter what, the one thing we humans all have in common is suffering. We all experience times in life when we struggle and suffer, sometimes as a result of our own actions or the actions of others, sometimes the cause of our suffering is random, a storm or an illness. Regardless these times of suffering challenge our faith. We cry out to God, feeling abandoned in the desert, suddenly residing in the deep night of the soul.

John Newton, known to us as the author of the hymn "Amazing Grace," also authored a profound book on the spiritual life and the struggles of faith. He was a ship owner and slave trader before becoming a priest in the Church of England. He went through a mighty conversion and from this change of heart worked to end the slave trade and wrote Amazing Grace. He spent his last years as a parish priest in London. In the Works of John Newton from the section titled "Grace in the Ear" Newton lays out a cyclical three step process of the faith journey.

The first step is "Desire." A person has a sudden experience of God and a desire to grow in faith. The person has a profound sense of awe, and a new found awareness of God's grace and love. This first phase is like the Hebrews freed from Egypt, it brings with it a sense of elation. Eventually this “awe-filled” sense of God’s love and grace shifts and the second phase begins.

The second phase is "Conflict." This is the "deep night of the soul" phase where one wrestles with God, with faith, and often faces challenges that were not experienced in the first phase of Desire. If Desire is marked by elation like that of the Hebrews freed from slavery, this phase is marked by a sense of being lost; it’s the Hebrews wandering in the desert for 40 years. Ultimately this is a time of growing more dependent on God and deepening our trust in God as we travel through one challenge or another. This second phase is the longest phase in the spiritual journey.

The third phase, which Newton calls contemplation, is marked by an internal shift, a sense of peace prevails despite the obstacles.Filled with a sense of peace, one becomes less emotionally engaged in the challenges and more able to view them with some distance, having finally learned to put one's trust in God. Newton is careful to spell out that one is not necessarily a better believer or person in one phase or the other, rather one's sense of dependence on God increases through each phase.

This reminds me of a Mary Oliver poem:

The Uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

(Mary Oliver)

Paul reminds Timothy that he inherited from his mother and grandmother gifts of faith which will sustain him through the trials and tribulations of his life, even those that threaten his faith. Paul says: I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you. For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you....

In the midst of deep suffering it can be difficult to imagine rekindling the gift of God that is within us. The odd thing is, we don’t actually rekindle it. God does. Somehow in the midst of despair, if we remain diligent in our prayer and practice of faith, even through those times when it feels futile, there rises within us a new sensibility, of hope, of peace, that can only be of God. I don’t know how this works. I only know that it is true. God has hold on me, on you. Somehow, being held in God’s embrace, infuses this peace, this hope, into our beings.

I wish I could say that once in Utah, and especially when her husband joined her a year later, that all was well for my great, great, grandmother . I wish I could say that she lived a life content in her faith and grateful she had made this journey. But I’m not sure that’s the case. Historical records indicate that this great great great great grandfather followed the tradition of that church at that time, the 1800’s and took additional wives. He even spent time in jail for polygamy. Some in that church consider him a saint. My great great great great grandmother divorced him and spent the last of her days dependent on her children, poor and struggling. Somehow though she retained her faith, despite the many heartbreaks she suffered.

A life of faith does not mean that our lives will be like a Cinderella story, and all will work out in the end. But then again, in a way it does. Because even if the circumstances of our lives continue to be challenging, we know that we are held in the hand of God. Our faith, though it be small like a mustard seed, is enough. Timothy reminds us that God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but a spirit of power. God has a hold on us and God isn’t letting go.

It Matters, How?

2010-09-26T14:40:00.001-05:00

A reflection the readings for Proper 20C: Jeremiah 8:18-9:1, Psalm 79:1-9, 1 Timothy 2:1-7, Luke 16:1-13: St. Edward and Christ, Joliet, IL

There are a few television shows I love to watch. Among them are Gray’s Anatomy, The Mentalist and Brothers and Sisters. Each of these had season finales last May that I found particularly dramatic, violent and unsettling. I remember because some of them played in reruns this week as the networks prepare for the season openers. Gray’s Anatomy left us in a cliff hanger with one surgeon, a resident, about to operate on her best-friends husband, the chief of staff, who had been shot by the irate husband of a woman who had died in a previous episode.

The story begins as if it were just another ordinary day. The staff arrives for work. Meredith finds out she is pregnant and is excited to tell her husband, mr. Mcdreamy, the chief of staff. But then chaos happens as the shooting spree takes hold. Each scene is filled with some characters falling prey to the shooter while others hide and try to survive.

Although I’m not sure who survives, it seems a number of cast members were “shot” off the series in this episode that left me closing my eyes and turning away. And don’t even get me started on CSI. I can’t watch that show anymore with the close up visuals of bullets penetrating flesh, or blood clots racing through arteries, and one violent act after another.
Then again, there are days when I can’t watch the local news either. Headline after headline of disaster: famine, war, violence, shootings, robberies, disease, earthquakes, tornados, hurricanes....the list is endless. I just want to shut the television off and pretend I live in a quiet world where not much happens.

Turning our heads and pretending we don’t hear or see is what we sometimes do with our scripture readings. We have readings like this morning, which like every Sunday morning are read well from beginning to end, and yet we sit here in our seats and...what? Do we really listen? Or are these readings just one more way we shut down and close off, unable to be fully present to the confusion that lies within?

Me? If I weren’t preaching on these readings, would gladly look the other way. I mean really, what in the world is Jesus suggesting? That we support people who embezzle other people? That we feel proud of and honor thieves and deceit? Does this sound like the Jesus we know and love?

In our reading from Luke we have a shrewd and dishonest manager who is called to account for his work by the owner, who had become aware of the deceitful activity of the manager. In response the manager goes to each of the employees and settles their debts in a way that gives the owner something, saves face for the manager, and helps out the employees at the same time. It’s not exactly honest, but it’s shrewd and it works.
Now imagine you have just experienced some horrible tragedy – like the flooding in Pakistan or the earthquake in Haiti, you and your children are suffering profoundly. In fact if you don’t get some clean water and food you all will die. Soon.

Do you care, in that moment of desperation, who gives you the food? Do you care what is in their heart? If they are good and honest people or just people who happen to be doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons, like to save their own skin? I think we’d want someone to save us and our children no matter what. Thank you for that food and water, we’d say. Thank you.

Now we know that your priests Kathryn and Richard are in Haiti this week tending to the needs of some children up in the mountains. I imagine that the people in Haiti are much like I was suggesting earlier – so stunned by their fractured lives that they don’t feel much anymore. There is only so much pain and suffering we humans can take before we shut down and tune out. You all are not there to see the work that Kathryn and Richard are doing. But you have supported them in this endeavor. And you’ll hear their stories when they return. Stories of love and care. You all have acted from your hearts. In your support people from Haiti will come to see the face of Christ in Kathryn, and know the hands of Christ in Richard. There will be healing and new life. And maybe you’ll go on to do more of this. Maybe this will become just as transformational for you as it surely will be those children in Haiti and for Kathryn and Richard.

Even though you weren’t there literally, you will be impacted by this work because you’ve supported those who have gone to do the work. Children in Haiti will live because you have helped. Children you have never met. Children whose faces you won’t know. Children whose hands you will not hold. And yet your help for them will be profound.

Jesus tells us in this reading that what matters most is that we do something. It matters that we do what we can, more than we can, actually. It matters that we not only feel in our hearts but DO with our hands and feet and brains, too. Through us and the power of the Holy Spirit Jesus will be right there with the suffering child and the parents of that child. Jesus tells us story about a master who goes along with acts of justice because it profits the master too – but regardless of the masters profit – justice is served and people are helped. To the people helped it matters not what is in our hearts.

However, what’s in our hearts does matter to God. And there is every likelihood that when people experience the process of helping others, even if they initially did it for personal gain, once they experience the benefit of helping others their hearts are changed. Perhaps they even begin to help from a place of love in their heart. They not only love but they act on that love.

I’m hoping that the season opener of Gray’s Anatomy has Christina saving Dr. Shepherd from the bullet wound. I hope her hands do not succumb to the fear that is surely in her heart as she operates. I hope that we hear in our texts this morning a call toward hope, a reminder that what is most important is that we do something about the injustices in our world. And I give thanks that your priests are in Haiti helping those children. May the life and love they extend to those kids be yours as well.

Valuable in God's Eyes

2010-08-29T13:07:00.000-05:00

A reflection Proper 17C: Psalm 81:1, 10-16, Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16, Luke 14:1, 7-14, St. James the Less, Northfield

Some 27 years ago, when I was working in dance and theater, I had my first experience with sushi. During that time I worked for a small non-profit dance theater company in Chicago. I had colleagues from New York City who came to the theater several times a year for performances. Of course it was also common for us to go out after the show for a meal. On one of those trips we went to a local Sushi restaurant on Clark Street called, Happi Sushi. Now, I had never had sushi before, it was after all the early 1980’s and sushi was relatively new for this area, but I was willing to try it. I let my colleagues order the fish and then, with great enthusiasm, dove in.

As you know the required side dishes for proper sushi eating include: soy sauce for dipping the sushi, marinated ginger root for cleansing the palate between pieces of sushi, and this green garnish that looked to me like mashed avocado. Assuming it was avocado I enthusiastically dipped my piece of sushi into the soy sauce and then into the ground avocado, and popped it into my mouth. Imagine my surprise when I realized that the green stuff was not avocado but horseradish. Japanese horseradish, and very strong. There I sat with a mouth full of fish and horseradish strong enough to make my eyes water, a heat slowly seeping up my face, thoroughly clearing my sinuses and probably cooking the fish in the process.

Among other ideas, there are two virtues our scripture readings point us to consider this morning. One is hospitality, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.” offers the Letter to the Hebrews. And the other is humility, Jesus reminds us, “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.". Of these, humility is perhaps the most challenging because we think that humility is about being uncomfortable and passive. Like me stifling my reaction to the wasabi because I didn’t want my NY friends to know that I had mistaken it for avocado.

At the root of humility is the Greek word humus. Earth. This earth, which God made and called good is our humus, the origin of our humility. Jan Richardson who writes on the “Painted Prayerbook blog” says, “ Humility is our fundamental recognition that we each draw our life and breath from the same source,” from the God who made us and all creation, and loves us.

Roberta Bondi points out in her book To Love as God Loves: Conversations with the Early Church that “humility did not mean for them [the early church folk] a continuous cringing, cultivating a low self-image, and taking a perverse pleasure in being always forgotten, unnoticed, or taken for granted. Instead, humility meant to them a way of seeing other people as being as valuable in God’s eyes as ourselves. It was for them a relational term having to do precisely with learning to value others, whoever they were. It had to do with developing the kind of empathy with the weaknesses of others that made it impossible to judge others out of our own self-righteousness.” (also from Jan Richardson’s blog).

So hospitality is about caring for the stranger, caring for those who challenge us and humility is about seeing others a God sees them, as part of God’s beloved creation. Hospitality and humility are intertwined.

Which reminds me of the underlying pretext for a recent conference that I helped plan and staff. It took place in Chicago in early August and was sponsored by the National Council of Churches. The NCC has several working groups tackling issues that are prominent in the lives of worshiping communities across the spectrum of Christianity in this day and time. The group I work with is intentionally considering language, the words, images and symbols we use to talk about ourselves, other human beings, and God. The conversation we had included people from many different Christian denominations, and different ethnicities and cultures. We began our time together with each of sharing a s short three minute story about a time when language, words, images, symbols, impacted us, our understanding of others, our understanding of God and how that shaped our faith lives and or the faith lives of our worship community.

My reflection was on bread. In part because as a member of the planning team I helped organize our worship for this event, which was no easy feat given that we all came from different ways of worship. Being an Episcopalian I am naturally drawn to the Eucharist as a way to bring us all together into one Body sharing the bread and the wine. But we were unable to share a Eucharistic meal, given our differences, so instead of communion we planned a love feast. This is a very silly sounding name for what became a wonderful expression of hospitality and humility as we gave thanks for our time together, for the deep listening that took place, and for the bread that brought us to a common table.

Here is part of what I said, I've been thinking about bread lately in part because I had to decide if I was going to make bread or buy ready-made bread for our final worship service. It would have been much easier to just buy four or five loaves of bread. But somehow store bought bread just didn't seem right. Making bread for this worship represents, for me, the coming together of many separate and distinct ingredients and creating a whole. Considering what we are hoping to create in and from this gathering making the bread just seemed right...

The bread I made is intended to represent diversity too. I made a gluten free loaf that is white and crumbly, a white/whole wheat blend that is caramel colored and slightly sweet, a whole wheat that is a warm brown, and a rye/bulgur blend that is dark and earthy. Our final worship will have breads of different flavors, colors, and textures. The bread will not be consecrated with the words that, in some traditions, my own included, make it holy, make it the Body of Christ. But the bread holds the prayers I prayed while making it, prayers for a grace filled conversation....”

A friend of mine recently wrote about an experience at the altar at a monastery where she had gone for a few days of reflection. She was told that at the time of communion, not being of that denomination, she was welcome to come forward for a blessing but she could not receive the bread and the wine. She said that she while she did that, she has no memory of the blessing because of the pain she felt from being excluded.

Humility and hospitality are bedrock to our Christian understanding of who we are and what we are to be about as we live and practice our faith. Learning about, becoming sensitive to, and having conversations about the ways in which our “normal” practices may in fact be a source of exclusion and pain for another is part of our calling to entertain strangers as if they were angels.

I have been with you for three weeks and have found you to be a warm, generous, people with a genuine sense of hospitality. Now you are about to embark on a year or so of transition ministry, a time when you will be invited to have conversations about who you are, how you express your hospitality and humility, how you entertain angels and care for one another, friend and stranger alike. I suspect you will continue to deepen your awareness of who you are and who God is calling you to be. Listen to one another with open hearts, listening for God speaking in and through each other. And in so doing, as our Psalm today reminds us, God will “feed you with the finest of the wheat, and with honey from the rock (God) would satisfy you.” May your journey this next year be blessed, fruitful, and filled with a hospitality that will humble you in all the best of ways.

In the Grip of God

2010-08-22T13:00:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 16C: Hebrews 12:18-29 and Luke 13:10-17 St. James the Less, Northfield, IL

Perhaps you heard the story on the news this week about Jane Lang, who with her Seeing Eye dog Clipper leading the way, walked to the Morris Plains, NJ train station Tuesday to travel to the Bronx for a Yankees game. Although she’s taken this route before, Tuesday was different, because members of the Yankees baseball team joined her.

Manager Joe Girardi, pitchers Joba Chamberlain, David Robertson, Chad Gaudin and former Yankee Tino Martinez met the 67-year-old Lang at her home as part of the team's HOPE Week. HOPE Week (Helping Others Persevere & Excel) is a unique week-long community program aimed at bringing to light five remarkable stories intended to inspire individuals into action in their own communities. Initiated in 2009, HOPE Week is rooted in the fundamental belief that acts of goodwill provide hope and encouragement to more than just the recipient of the gesture. (YesNetwork.com)

Lang has been blind since she was 22, but that hasn’t prevented her from going to games where she listens to radio broadcasts in the stands so she can react to the action. The Yankees have an Americans with Disablities Act director who knew of Lang and nominated her for the honor. "She's obviously a person who's very humble," Girardi said while waiting for the train. "She was saying she didn't think Hope Week was for someone like her." Gaudin, too, was impressed by Lang's approach to life. "She's excited about being alive ... That's the inspiration she gives everybody. "Lang said she did not let blindness negatively impact her life." You have to live in the world the way it is, not the way you wish it was," said Lang, who began regularly attending Yankees games, after learning the route via subway. She said she goes to about 30 games a year. (From the DailyRecord.com).
Each of us here could probably share a story of someone we know who is struggling and has become a source of inspiration. Each of us here probably is or has at one time struggled as well with some sorrow or tragedy or unexpected misfortune. Life is unpredictable, things happen, we are all scarred in some way.

I’ve been thinking lately about a book I read many years ago by Joan Chittister called, Scarred by Struggle, Transformed by Hope: the Nine Gifts of Suffering. It’s not a book that everyone will like because she walks through this dark place of suffering with a keen eye to how our pain can also become a place of transformation and hope. Frankly, I think most of us would gladly give up the process of transformation in order to avoid the pain and suffering. But life is not like that. Suffering happens. Chittister says suffering usually comes when we least expect it and startles us out of a place of comfort and security. An illness, a death, a job loss, a car accident, some tragedy befalls us in such a way that we know that life will never be the same again.

Our Gospel reading this morning describes a woman with a spirit that has crippled her. She spent eighteen years in a place of deep pain, so much pain that she is literally bent over. Somehow she has found her way to Jesus and seeing her Jesus heals her. But that’s not the end of the story. Because .Jesus has healed this woman on the Sabbath and that upsets some people. Not because he healed but because he healed on the Sabbath. Jesus and these people each hold a different view of what should be done on the Sabbath. A different view of what can and cannot be done.

Likewise when it comes to our perceptions of who is able-bodied and who is disabled, of what can and what cannot be done, and what attributes constitute health and wellbeing we are confronted with different understandings. I recently spent some time with a woman who is blind. And I admit I was somewhat startled when this person said that being blind was her “most precious gift.”

Suddenly I realized that a person that I would call disabled because she or he is blind or sits in a wheel chair might be just as inclined to call me disabled because I don’t see or move the way they do. Suddenly I realized that Joan Chittiseter’s book is describing this very thing, that that which we assume is our deepest place of suffering may also be our most precious gift. Again I know many people who would say, forget the gift I’d rather not have the suffering. But, as we all know, suffering is a part of life.

So, if what my friend says is true, that being blind is her most precious gift, and if what Jane Lang says is true, that we must learn to live life as it is and not as we would wish, and if what Chittister says is true that our deepest suffering becomes the source of profound hope and transformation, then what I call blind is really just another way of seeing the world. Being hunched over is just another way of living in and moving in the world. Seeing as I do and moving as I do is just another way of being in the world.

The woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years was bent over. We might think that her vision was limited, looking as she must have at the ground, at feet and knees and hemlines of clothing. But her vision led her to Jesus and he healed her of that spirit, and for that she gave thanks and praise to God.

Not long ago I had a conversation with another friend of mine, one who is suffering from a deep loss, which has changed her life forever. Though her pain is still deep and the loss still profound she feels something stirring inside, something else is coming to life, in addition to pain and suffering. She said something like, “God has a hold on me and won’t let go.” I get that, I’ve my own share of burdens and suffering. I think God has a hold on me too. I’m willing to bet God has hold on you as well. In the words we hear from Hebrews, “we will not be shaken;” because no matter what happens God has a hold on us.

So, on the one hand we live in bondage from the limitations of our perceptions. Those perceptions may be the result of some kind of pain or suffering. They may be how we think someone else ought to feel, given what we think is their life circumstance.

On the other hand we live in the grip of a God who won’t let go of us. One limits our view of God’s love, healing, and grace, and the other opens us up to experience God’s love, healing, and grace in ever deepening ways. One is a human construct and one is a construct of God.

How we see and know God in our lives and in the lives of others is always limited by our own suffering, our own perception and vision and movement. But regardless of these limitations each of us is held in a grip of hope - the grip of God. A grip of hope that leads us to the feet of Jesus, where it becomes a grip of love that heals from the inside out and sets us free...
...and so it becomes our most precious gift.

Faith Is....

2010-08-15T12:58:00.000-05:00

Proper 15C: Hebrews 11:29-12:2 and Luke 12:49-56 – St. James the Less, Northfield, IL

This has been a curious summer for me. Maybe it has been for you too? First of all there’s the intense heat. But as someone who has recently lived in Arizona, I’ve become a bit conditioned to heavy heat, dry or not, hot is hot. Mostly it’s been an unusual summer because I have been a supply priest in a different church every Sunday. Well, almost. I have been to some of the churches more than once. But never enough to really know the congregation and so it’s been curious, to reflect on our scriptures this summer with congregations that I know only slightly. You all are in a time of transition between rector’s a time to reflect on who you are and where you are going as you prepare, some months or a year from now, to call your next rector. So, each of us is in a time of flux, wondering where God is calling us at this time.

This summer of supply work has reminded me that preaching is a personal thing, personal between priest and congregation. So a supply priest always wonders about what is being offered and how it fits into the life of the congregation. What did the preacher say last week? Have they already heard this? In this context of supply preaching there is a distinct lack of continuity, or the potential there of, in what is said from week to week. For me, the preacher though, there has been an ongoing dialogue between me and the text, a conversation that has examined what the readings are saying about faith, about God, about Jesus and about discipleship, about us.

This summer I have found a number of, perhaps “unusual” connecting points between the readings and ordinary life. These have led me to think about things like making bread and baking pie. Now, you may wonder what bread making and pie baking have to do with faith and God, Jesus and discipleship? I suggest that at the very least we can consider the idea that God expresses God’s self in and through the ordinary events of daily life. We who have faith in God and follow Jesus, particularly as Episcopalians, understand this as “Incarnational.” Kathleen Norris describes it as Quotidian, God and Jesus in the ordinary events and lives of human beings.

So, I’ve been thinking about God, Jesus, faith, and discipleship in bread making and pie baking. Take for example the other night when I decided to make a blueberry pie. I made the crust from scratch using Crisco and flour, and poured into the crust a mixture of fresh blueberries, sugar, and cornstarch, covering it all with another crust. The pie baked in the oven for some 50 minutes at 425 degrees. I watched it carefully but even still the juices bubbled over and spilled onto the oven floor.

Do you have any idea how smoky a house can get when a hot oven tries to burn off sugary fruit juices? How quickly that liquid turns to goo and then to an intensely thick solid substance, which only further adds to the smoke it exudes? Before long my house was so filled with smoke that it was visible. The oven turned off, windows and doors opened, the hot pie cooling on a rack, the sticky stuff burned crisp on the oven floor. The odor of burnt sugar lingered for days.

There’s something heated about our readings today, an unexpected fire in the words and tone that Jesus uses.

“Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided: father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother-inlaw."

This is not the Jesus we usually hear; it’s startling like the stench of burning fruit juices, stinging our eyes, demanding a closer look. Jesus is speaking about our inability to recognize the condition of our lives in the midst of scorching heat. Perhaps like me there are days when you are so overwhelmed that you shut down in an effort to blow away the smoke pouring out from the intensity of daily life?

In these heated, smokey, firery days, days of economic collapse, oil spills, of disease, of war and famine across the globe, of intense heat or drowning rain and floods, there is often little we have to anchor ourselves. Little that is, unless we listen to the words of our scripture and anchor ourselves in faith.

Rick Marshall of Brea UCC Church in Brea, Ca says this, “ Faith is exemplified in particular people and worked out in individuals and supported by real faithful communities. Faith is not an abstract ideal....Faith is a life orientation. It is a commitment to live in the world in a particular way. Jesus is seen as the example of faith. As the Hebrews text says, “...we look to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith..”

Our scripture and our faith remind us that God is active and present in the world, in all that is happening. I tend to believe that God’s action is NOT like a puppeteer managing puppets, in other words God is not manipulating every detail of every life and event in the world. Given the nature and reality of freewill – that we have choices in life - God is more likely to be invested in putting out our fires than in causing fires to burn us. So, if God is invested in our lives in ways that call us to healing and wholeness, if God strives to put out fires and restore peace, and if faith is the how we anchor ourselves in the healing action of God, how do we ground ourselves in this reading from Luke? A reading that has Jesus pulling everything apart. Pulling everything apart unless we hear this reading as calling us to understand how radical it is to really live a life of faith and embody the love of God in all that we say and do. What Jesus is pointing us to understand is that when we love as God loves what happens is we begin to pull apart and divide the fabric of society, a fabric of greed and self-centeredness, pulled apart and divided into pieces that form and reform into communities of care.

Frederick Buechner, a well known Christian author often writes about the mystery of God made known in and through the events of life. He says, “we understand, if we are to understand it at all, that the madness and lostness we see all around us and within us are not the last truth about the world but only the next to the last truth….Faith is the eye of the heart, and by faith we see deep down beneath the face of things--by faith we struggle against all odds to be able to see--that the world is God's creation even so. It is (God) who made us and not we ourselves, made us out of (God’s) peace to live in peace, out of (God’s) light to dwell in light, out of (God’s) love to be above all things loved and loving. That is the last truth about the world." (Kate Huey, ucc blog)

Faith is the eye of the heart that enables us to see God in the ordinariness of life. Faith is the eye of the heart that restores, heals, renews us from the fires that would otherwise consume us. Faith is the eye of the heart that seeks to establish God’s justice in the world, a justice that calls us to live in God’s peace, God’s light, God’s love. Each and every day.

Where Our Treasure Is...

2010-08-08T12:55:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 14C: Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, St. John the Divine, Burlington, WI

Many of you have probably heard this old joke:

A scientist figured out how to clone humans out of cells and began to tell people that now there was no need for God. One day God spoke to the scientist and convinced the scientist to enter a contest with God. The idea was that each of them would create a human being from the dirt of the earth, just like we read about in scripture. Ah said the scientist no problem. The scientist then reached down to the ground and picked up a pile of dirt. Just then God intervened and said, But first you have to make your own dirt.”

Our reading today from Hebrews reminds us that faith is intangible,” faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”.. Faith is not something solid that we can put our hands on. Our faith in God, in Jesus, in the Holy Spirit, is founded on prayer and trust, on scripture and the teachings of the church, these are the bricks and mortar of our faith, the foundation that sustains it. Nonetheless our confidence that God is active and present in our lives and our world, is rarely based on concrete evidence. We believe that God is active but God, who is the focus and purpose of our faith, tends to work in mysterious ways that we cannot see. Some of us think that because we cannot see God at work that God must not be working. Again Hebrews suggests that expecting to see the fullness of God at work will never be a reality. Mystics and saints give witness to the presence of God, and remind us that our inability to see God is less because of who God and more because of who we are. We humans are limited in our ability to see, hear, and sense, the presence of God.

When I was a little girl I loved to watch falling stars. One summer I lived in Idaho, out in the country. Back then there was little extraneous light from cities, so the night sky was very dark. But the dark sky was littered with thousands of stars – it was breathtaking. My brothers and I spent most of August lying in our front yard on a blanket, heads up to the sky, counting the falling stars. Now we know that what we saw were actually meteor showers not stars. In that dark night sky we saw countless streaks of light suddenly appear, zoom across a span of space, and then dissolve. Staring at this vast expansive of sky and space made me wonder about what is out there. I once tried to imagine something that went on forever and never ended, which some folks think is the case in the space beyond our solar system – that dark space goes on forever. But I really couldn’t imagine it. Some things are just beyond our ability to see or hear, even when we think they are true. I mean, if there is an end to space, then what? Is our world, or solar system, just a small particle in some other larger life, like a cell in a body? And if so, what is that life like? Does it have shape and form? It’s hard to think about.

Rick Marshall is the Pastor of Brea UCC church in Brea California and he says this: “Scientists talk about dark matter. It’s there, but they have no way of detecting it. In fact, it might make up the majority of “stuff” in the universe. In a similar way, our conscious awareness cannot detect the expansive created order that is beyond our ability to sense. It’s not that God creates out of nothing, but that the word of God creates what is seen from things that are not visible. God’s creativity is part of the natural world. If our conscious mind is but the tip of the iceberg of mostly unconscious experience, then why would we deny the existence of the majority of that which is submerged just because we can’t see it? We see its affects all the time in our life experience. In fact, much of the natural order might make up the majority of the “stuff” of life which we have no way of detecting.” (Process and Faith blog for Aug. 8, 2010). As the letter to the Hebrews reminds us, “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen....”

So just as there are vast amounts of space that are unknown to us, and yet space exists. And just as there are new things being discovered in science, things that have always existed and yet were unknown to us, and just as technological advances are made every year, so too, God is active in the world and in our lives, even though we may not be fully cognizant of what God is doing and how God is present.

Of course in a world filled with tragedy, sorrow, suffering, war, famine, natural disasters, oil spills, economic failure, disease, and countless other challenges it is maybe easier to think that God is doing nothing or worse that God does not care. The challenges of these times are so intense that at times it seems as if we are really lost and will not recover. Mother Teresa, is credited with saying, I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish He didn't trust me so much. I don’t know if God actually decides to hand out suffering and pain and struggles in order for us to learn some lesson or accomplish some goal. I tend to not think of God as some master puppeteer orchestrating every detail of my life. And yet I do believe that God is invested in my life and yours and in this world.

Frederick Buechner, a well known Christian author often writes about the mystery of God made known in and through the events of life. He says, “we understand, if we are to understand it at all, that the madness and lostness we see all around us and within us are not the last truth about the world but only the next to the last truth….Faith is the eye of the heart, and by faith we see deep down beneath the face of things--by faith we struggle against all odds to be able to see--that the world is God's creation even so. It is he who made us and not we ourselves, made us out of his peace to live in peace, out of his light to dwell in light, out of his love to be above all things loved and loving. That is the last truth about the world." (Kate Huey, ucc blog)

If that is true, that the last and ultimate truth about life and faith is not suffering and struggle by about learning how to live in peace, live in God’s light, and live out of God’s love, regardless of the rest of what is happening in life, then clearly faith is the only way for this to be possible.

In the Gospel of Luke we are reminded that God desires us to participate in the world God has created – Luke says, “do not be afraid, for it is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

Again Buechner informs us on this: "Faith is different from theology because theology is reasoned, systematic, and orderly, whereas faith is disorderly, intermittent, and full of surprises.... Faith is homesickness. Faith is a lump in the throat. Faith is less a position on than a movement toward, less a sure thing than a hunch. Faith is waiting."

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Faith in God is our treasure, our heart, our life, and all that we yearn for.

A Call to Wholeness Shaped and Formed in Love

2010-08-01T12:48:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 13C, Colossians: 3:1-113:10 and Luke 12:13-21 12:16, St. John’s Burlington, WI,

A few weeks ago in a sermon I preached at another church I used an illustration about making pie crust from scratch, which I love to do. Today I find myself thinking about bread. There’s something about the Gospel of Luke that is causing me to find connections between the ordinary things I do and love in life and the readings. So, I’ve been thinking about making bread and more specifically about making bread for communion. For one thing, at this church, you make your communion bread and have for a long time. It’s an art to make bread and a ministry of love to make communion bread.

A few days ago, on a really hot and humid day, (ok that could be any day this summer), I made bread. There I was early in the morning, mixing yeast into a warm water and honey. Before long the mixture was foamy, evidence of life bubbling within. I added a little butter and salt and then enough flour to thicken the mixture into a sticky ball - the beginning of bread dough. Next comes kneading. Bread gets its texture and consistency from kneading. By pushing and turning, pushing and turning, one kneads more flour into the mixture while at the same time working the texture of the dough until it becomes elastic and holds its shape. After about 7 minutes of kneading I formed it into a ball, rubbed some oil onto the surface and placed it into a bowl to rise, covered with a cloth. An hour later, maybe less, the bread ball doubled in size. When I placed the dough in the bowl it was a small dense oily ball at the bottom. But now it filled the bowl like a deep breath waiting to exhale. This brings me to one of my favorite parts, plunging my fist into the center of the bread/ball.

The final steps in bread making are easy. If you are making bread for Eucharist, as I was, you simply take the exhaled ball of dough, divide it into appropriate size portions and shape it. I made focaccia shaped loaves, about 10 inches in diameter and two inches thick. I let the loaf sit for about 10 minutes and then baked it in the oven for 15 minutes.

I've been thinking about bread lately in part because I had to decide if I was going to make bread for an upcoming worship service or buy it. Actually, it isn't going to be used in a Eucharist, but it will be used in a worship service that we are calling a "Love Feast." This Love Feast will come at the end of a conference for which I am on the planning committee; it will be our final worship experience. And because a number of the people coming are not "In Communion" with each other, or rather our Christian denominations are not in communion with each other, a Eucharist is not appropriate. So, really, any kind of bread would do.

It would have been much easier to just buy four different kinds of bread than it was to make four different bread recipes.

But somehow store bought bread just didn't seem right. Making bread for Eucharist or a Love Feast is an act of love and prayer, it's a ministry. It represents the coming together of many separate and distinct ingredients and creating a whole. Considering what we are hoping to create in and from this gathering making the bread just seemed right. In this conference we are going to considering the words, images, and symbols that speak to us about Christ, about God, about faith, about community. For me bread speaks to those elements we are considering. Bread, real bread, is for me a rich image of the gathered body of faithful sharing in a meal, being fed from the bounty of God’s love poured out in Christ. Bread is fragrant; it has substance and texture, color and taste. The bread I made, and I made four different recipes, were intended to reflect the diversity of those gathering at this conference– a crumbly gluten free bread from rice flour, a caramel colored, slightly sweet, white/whole wheat blend, a third loaf of 100% whole wheat bread, and the fourth loaf an earthy rye and bulgur – these loaves for a gathering of Lutherans, Episcopalians, Methodist, Baptists, UCC, and other denominations – of Asians, Native Americans, Caucasians, and African Americans – all coming together to talk about the images, symbols, and words we use to talk about God and faith in our lives and in our worship. Talk and share, listen and learn, and wonder how it is that we are all Christians, are all the Body of Christ, for there is no longer Jew or Greek, Paul tells us in his Letter to the Colossians, just one Body, Christ in all, Christ is all.

I don’t know how this conference will play out with so many people from so many different understandings of Christianity.

I hope we do not disintegrate into some kind of righteous indignation, like the man in the parable in today’s reading in Luke, who comes across as selfish. I hope we are not self-centered on our own agendas but can instead be centered on God, or as Luke says, I hope we can be rich toward God. Rich toward God can be as simple as turning our hearts and minds to God and striving to do God’s work in the world.

The members of this conference are gathering to consider the various ways we love God and the ways we experience God’s love in return. As a result, to some extent, we also reflect on the ways in which one community knows Gods love might actually exclude others from that love. For example, there’s the conversation around who is invited to the altar for a Eucharist and who is not; or a conversation about the appropriateness of women clergy; or a conversation about whether the bread and wine, when consecrated remains just bread and wine, a symbol of Christ – OR is it changed, does it really become the body of Christ? So many levels to where the conversation might go, so many ways the body of Christ is divided instead of united. In bread language we might think of this in terms of gluten bread or gluten-free bread. If a community only serves gluten bread then those who are intolerant of gluten are left out of the love feast, the meal, the Eucharist, the body, the sharing of love in this way.

Certainly the call we hear in our readings today is a call to wholeness, to unity, to community, to be as one Body in our love of God. But also it’s a reminder that God loves for us, in our diversity, our parts, in our ordinariness as well as in our fullness, the whole of creation. This kind of love is hard work. We fool ourselves if we think this love that God calls us to is simple, even as that same God-love is commonly found in the ordinariness of life. It’s a lot like making breading, of mixing and kneading, of rising and exhaling, of shaping and forming. Of bringing together you and me and all our various life experiences and expectations and putting them all together at this altar as one body shaped and formed in love.

Prayer Is?

2010-07-25T17:04:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 12C Luke 11:1-13, St. James West Dundee,IL on the Feast Day of St. James.

A couple of weeks ago I participated in leading Vacation Bible School for a local parish. The lay leaders
who organized the VBS were excited to have 34 kids registered. Of these 34 kids 18 of them were Japanese, and 30 of the kids were under the age of 4, with most of them being around 2 years old.

My assignment was to lead the daily opening and closing worship which was comprised of a prayer, some songs, and a brief discussion about the theme of the day.

I knew, even before we began, that this would be a challenge with such a young and diverse group of kids....
did I mention that the Japanese kids and their moms don’t speak English?

The first day, as we gathered, was the epitome of holy chaos – crying babies, running toddlers, significant language barriers, and a trial and error process of figuring out how to contain this group.

Clearly my work had to be basic.

So I taught them that the sanctuary, the space around the altar, was not a place to run and play. This area I said is a place to pray.

Then I said, when we pray we hold our hands this way.

Holding our hands in prayer became the symbol for becoming quiet and preparing to pray. Even the smallest of children could grasp the idea of holding hands and becoming quiet. We then prayed a simple prayer of thanksgiving.

The prayer was followed by some songs to familiar tunes including the old standby,“Jesus Loves Me.” Afterward the kids were off for their other activities.

We ended each day in a similar pattern of prayer and song.

Prayer anchored our time together at the beginning and end of each day.

Our Gospel reading this morning helps us understand the significance of prayer in our faith lives. In the reading Jesus has gone off to pray and realizing this one of his disciples asks Jesus to teach them how to pray.

Prayer, and in particular the Lords’ Prayer, is bedrock to our Christian faith.

Today’s story in Luke follows two other significant Sunday morning readings from this Gospel, each pointing us to understand, more deeply, a life of faith and discipleship.

Two weeks ago we had the Good Samaritan story and last week we had the story of Martha complaining about Mary. Combined with the reading today these three teach us something about discipleship and underscores Jesus’ primary teaching:

love God,

love self,

and love others.

Each of these, loving God, loving self, and loving others, weave in and through each other, creating the foundation of a life of faith – and the heart of discipleship.

We all know about the twelve disciples, the original followers of Jesus. One of them, James, is also your namesake. Today, July 25, we celebrate St. James and as such this is your “Feast of Title” day.

There were actually two disciples named James, one is known as James the Greater, and one is known as James the Lesser. This church is named after James the Greater. This James was the son of the Galilean fisherman Zebedee and his wife Salome, one of the women who followed Jesus to the cross.

Scripture tells us that James and his younger brother John were called to be followers of Jesus early in his ministry. Peter, James, and John were with Jesus during some important events, including the Transfiguration, the raising of Jairus’ daughter, and in the Garden of Gethsemane. It is believed that James did his primary mission work in Spain and therefore is the patron saint of Spain. He was martyred in the year 44, in Judea by Herod Agrippa I for being a follower of Jesus.

Like the other disciples James as not a perfect human being. He had a temper and is known to once ask Jesus who would be the greatest, who would sit at his right hand and his left, as if Jesus would one day be a wealthy king.

Initially James misunderstood the concept of kingdom as God and Jesus intend it.

Through the incarnation of God’s love poured out in Jesus we come to understand that God intends for human beings to participate in the unfolding of God’s kingdom, through acts of love and compassion, bringing into one, the diversity of human life.

As Episcopalians, grounded in The Book of Common Prayer,our prayer-filled worship is the place where we join our diverse body of people into one. To that end we believe that “praying shapes believing.” This is the title of a book written by a well-known liturgist and former professor at Seabury-Western, Lee Mitchell, and unpacks the significance of the Book of Common Prayer to shape our worship and our lives.

As Episcopalians our worship is grounded in prayer as a place that unites us, a vastly diverse group of individuals from a wide range of politics, ethnicities, cultural upbringings, and understandings of God and faith,into one worshiping body of Christ.

Each week for the 50 or 60 minutes when we gatherto worship God in song, and word, and prayer we are being formed as one body.

As we pray the Eucharistic prayer and share the body of Christ, the bread and the wine, we are being formed as the living hands and heart of Christ.

The most important element of this formation from prayer is to realize that the prayer is calling usinto a relationship.

We pray give "us" this day “Our”daily bread, not “my” daily bread.

It’s a relationship

with God,

with self,

and with others.

Sometimes we get hung up on the idea that prayer and church and worship and God is just about me, an individual.

But if we really listen to the words Jesus is teaching us we come to understand that it is about “Us” – you and me and everyone else.

The other important element of prayer, in addition to shaping how we understand who we are as the Body of Christ, is to build our relationship

with God.

And on that level prayer is personal.

As Christians we believe in a God of relationship, a God who is with us

through thick or thin, sorrow and joy. And the way we build that personal relationship with God is two-fold. The relationship builds through the support of a worshiping community like this one and through our own individual prayer life.

God wants us to pray in order to be in relationship with God.

God listens to us and invites us to listen to God in return.

I’ll be the first to say that at times this kind of prayer, the individual one, feels sort of futile. I often wonder, because I don’t get the things I want, if God is listening or cares.

Again, the saints of the Church,those faithful believers who have gone before us, like St. James, help us with this.

From them we learn that getting what we want is not the way God affirms to us that God is listening.
Prayer is not like a vending machine in which God dispenses “correct change.”

Maybe the question we need to consider is not, “How” prayer works but

“who” prayer is?

Prayer is God.

Prayer is a relationship with God, becoming the Body of Christ.

Through the Holy Spirit prayer enlivens God’s love within us.

Prayer is the community that forms when a group of Japanese speaking moms and their toddlers gather, along with a couple of English speaking middle aged white women, in a small Midwestern suburban church and give thanks to God for the gift of life.

(Portions of this sermon from notes on the text by Kate Huey UCC and David Lose at WorkingPreacher )

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

2010-07-20T15:21:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 11C, Luke 10:38-42, by The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski at St. Lawrence, Libertyville, IL

I happen to love making pies from scratch, crust and all.

I don’t remember how I learned to make pie crust. I think my mother taught me once, but back then I found the process tedious. Years later when I wanted to make a pie I had to use my “Joy of Cooking” to teach myself again. In those days, some 25 years ago, I always used lard for the crust, which makes it very flavorful and flaky, but is incredibly unhealthy.

Around the fourth of July I was watching Martha Stewart make pies crusts on her show – berry pies – and that got me thinking about a fresh blueberry pie. Mindful of Martha Stewarts’ instructions, as I began to make my pie crust, I chilled the shortening, the flour, the water, and the bowl and the utensils for mixing the dough.

Once everything was well chilled I began the slow and arduous process of cutting the shortening into the flour, the really old fashioned way, using two table knives. A friend of mine was over and she asked why I didn’t just mix the flour and shortening with my fingers? Oh, I said, the heat from the fingers would make everything too warm and it wouldn’t mix correctly, the pie crust would be mushy. So I continued cutting the shortening and flour until the combined ingredients were about the size of peas. Add water, mix and form a ball, and then put it back in the refrigerator until chilled again.

The next step is to roll out the pie crust. And here is where I encountered a bit of a problem. I didn’t have a rolling pin. I mean I DO have one, but at the moment its packed away and in storage....a minor detail I’d forgotten when I started to make this pie crust.

How to roll out a pie crust without a rolling pin? I suppose I could have put the crust back in the fridge and run out to buy another rolling pin. But I didn’t want to take the time, the berries were mixed with sugar and cornstarch, the oven was lit. So I had to improvise with what I had on hand.

After considering a couple of options I remembered that I had a Rubbermaid one quart container that was tall and cylinder shaped – a bit like a rolling a pin. I thought that would work. And, while it was a tad light and lacked the density of a rolling pin, it did manage to roll the crust out well enough. In the end I had to do a little smushing of the crust to even it out in the pie tin. As I filled the crust with blueberries and baked it I worried that it would be a disaster. But I have to say it was actually one of the better pie crusts I’ve ever made. Emeril Lagasse would call it a “Love thing” the labor of love that goes into making fresh food from scratch.

Making a pie crust, or any labor of love food from scratch, is definitely a Martha-like activity. In our Gospel this morning we hear the familiar story in Luke of Martha entertaining Jesus and his companions, working herself into a tizzy. She becomes frustrated with her sister Mary who instead of helping Martha, prefers to sit and listen to Jesus teaching. It’s unclear why Martha doesn’t just call Mary aside and say something to her; the story tells us that Martha complains to Jesus about her sister. In response Jesus tells Martha to leave Mary alone, let her listen. As we hear it today it almost sounds as if Jesus is chiding Martha, but that’s not exactly the case. Remember, Jesus talks and teaches in parables, which always have layers of meaning beyond the details of the story. One way we know that Jesus is not chiding Martha but pointing us to see a deeper meaning in the story is when we put this one in the context of the stories that come before and after it in the Gospel of Luke.

Just before this story we have our reading from last Sunday about the Good Samaritan, the man who was beaten and left on the side of the road to die, but was helped by a stranger passing by. And next week we have the story of Jesus teaching his disciples how to pray and talking about the ministry that comes out of prayer. Combined with today’s readings we realize that we are in the midst of some serious teaching. Jesus is teaching us how to be disciples, how to listen to Jesus, how to follow Jesus’ teachings, and how to be like Jesus, how to be his hands and heart in the world.

The story of Martha complaining about Mary is meant to help us see that being in a relationship with God and becoming a disciple of Jesus is a both/and process – we need to be able to both listen and do. At first this may not be apparent, for it seems as if Jesus is saying that what Mary is doing it better than what Martha is doing. But we know from many other sources in scripture, including the story of the Good Samaritan that we heard last week, that Jesus places a high value on hospitality, on care for others, and that is what Martha is doing. We now know that Jesus also places a high value on listening and learning and growing into discipleship and that this process includes both men and women. This reading clearly indicates that Jesus supports the women who become his followers. They in fact become quite diligent disciples, think of the women who follow him to the cross and then go to the tomb to care for his broken and crucified body, the women are the first disciples to see the resurrected Jesus.

Ok, so let’s go back, for just a minute, to Martha’s complaining. Even as we know that Jesus places a high value on hospitality, what are we to make of Martha’s complaint in this reading? I think the point Jesus makes is that we are to care for others and offer gracious hospitality but not get anxious about it. We are not to work ourselves into such a frenzy doing and caring that we lose sight of Jesus, of God, of the people around us, and of what it means to love as God does. In other words we need to care for others as Martha does but with the spirit of Mary – a mindful, listening, caring, action oriented spirit. In a world of overwhelming problems: oil spills, weather disasters, economic failure, two wars overseas, civil wars and famine devastating countries around the globe, it’s hard to not become overwhelmed and worked into a tizzy.

Being both - mindful and action oriented - as we care for others - will be affirmed in our reading next week when we hear about Jesus going off to pray, taking time out from doing in order to regroup, listen, and move out in a mindful way. The teachings last week, this week, and next affirm that discipleship is a process that includes both listening and doing. Discipleship is about living into the charge to love God, love self, and love others. You might say, as we are practicing the art of discipleship, of balancing listening with doing, that it’s too difficult. But really, it’s as “simple” as pie, because it’s a love-thing.

A Helping Hand

2010-07-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski, Richfield Presbyterian Church, July 11, 2010, Proper 10C: Luke 10:25-37

The phone rang, it was a colleague of mine, she had something she wanted to discuss with me and wondered if we could talk over lunch. A few days later while we ate our salads, she told me about Dorothy, a single mom with a young daughter, living on disability and public aide. My colleague assured me that she had visited Dorothy; that her situation was legitimate and that what she needed was some assistance until her daughter was out of high school. Up to this point my colleague was providing that assistance but now she was leaving her church and moving out of state. She wondered, since the woman lived near my church, if we could help? I thought perhaps my church might want to help. I took Dorothy’s situation to our leadership team and we talked about it. In the end we agreed to help with monthly groceries and PACE bus passes. We held food drives and had people bring in chicken and hamburger, cereal and cheese, vegetables and fruit. Sometimes, when church members were really busy we collected a fund and I had PeaPod deliver her groceries. I ordered PACE bus passes and they were mailed to her house. We collected food for her Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter dinners. We gave her daughter clothing and school supplies. I even bought her daughter’s senior year high school year book. We probably helped Dorothy and her daughter for five years, maybe more. I liked Dorothy and her daughter and I was grateful we could help fill in the gaps between what she received on disability and what she needed to live on.

It wasn’t all great though. At times it was tiring work. There were days when Dorothy had needs beyond what we could give her. On those occasions she’d call me repeatedly at all hours wondering if I could help with one more thing. I had to lay down very clear limits with her. And whenever I sent a parishioner to her house I warned them: she will ask you for more. She will want a ride someplace or she will want money or she will want something. Her needs were endless. They were real needs, but they never ended. I told parishioners to just give her whatever it was they were delivering and tell her that this was all we could do right now. Over and over we had to place limits on what we could give her and when and how we would give it to her. That part was sad and difficult, but it was what we had to do in order to help her at all and not burn out.

Helping is a curious thing. It makes us feel good to have helped another. Helping can change lives and make the world just a little bit better. But helping can also burn us out, wear us down, and make us cynical. Sometimes the help is appreciated. Often the need for help in this world seems endless. And now today, more than ever, with the Gulf Coast oil spill, the economy that has crumbled, two wars overseas, famine and civil war in many countries around the world, children orphaned to AIDS and other disease. I could go on and on. In a world of so much disaster and tragedy it’s easy to understand why the Levite and the priest might walk on by. Maybe they had already helped too many people. Maybe they had overwhelming concerns of their own. Maybe they were cynical and burned out and tired. Maybe they were just in a hurry or didn’t want to touch someone who was beaten and dirty? Maybe they felt it wasn’t their problem.

Some people help though, not out of a desire to assist the other, but out of a need to boost their own ego. “Oh, see, aren’t I a good person, look what I’m doing for YOU. I have so much and you have so little, and I’m so great because of what I am doing.” Of course the thinking behind this can be much more subtle while at the same time being more about boosting the ego of the person helping than it is about actually caring for the other. And sometimes helping takes on a kind of condescending attitude, an attitude of “oh you poor thing, here let me help you.”

Such is the premise of the book, “How Can I Help” by Ram Dass. Some of you might remember Ram Dass from the 1971 best seller, “Remember Be Here Now”? Well in “How Can I Help” he takes a deeply spiritual and rather profound look at the nature of helping. Through telling story after story of people helping others he points to the real depth and intent of helping - that the person doing the “ helping “ is almost always the one who ends up actually being helped, changed, transformed, in ways they least expect. But even more important is the reality that helping is a mutual act – each person participates in the helping and the being helped. In other words sometimes we have to allow someone else to help us. So, in reality, helping is about building relationships of mutual care and compassion.

This is part of what Jesus is pointing us to recognize in this story from Luke about the Samaritan and the man from Jerusalem who was beaten and left for dead. If we were to have heard this story in Jesus’ day from Jesus himself we would understand that the beaten man is one of us, you or me, beaten and left on the side of the road to die. Prestigious people in our community walk by but do not stop to help. Like the priest and the Levite, these prestigious people are too important to be bothered with a simple person and their suffering. We would anticipate, though, that one of our neighbors, one of our friends would come and help. But none come and no one stops to help. No one comes, that is until this stranger walks by, this Samaritan. For us, like the man in the story, the Samaritan would be the person we most despise and are most afraid of. And Jesus’ point is -just as the beaten man needs the compassion of the Samaritan- we too need those we despise or are afraid of to have compassion on us. Likewise we are to show compassion in return. Strong words. This is not a nice little story. It’s a tough teaching.

Our global community needs not only individuals to have and show compassion but groups of people, entire communities and nations, to have compassion for one another. The core of this reading underscores that such compassion begins when one person’s heart is moved to love the other, and from that whole groups of people follow. Jesus tells us that having compassion on the stranger is how we inherit the kingdom of God.

But what is the kingdom of God? Is it some reward that we are trying to earn in the future, in the life we hope to live after this one, if we are found worthy? Again, I think Jesus points us to see the kingdom of God in a richer context, as a place that is both here now and yet still to come in the future. The kingdom of God can be manifested right now –whenever the peace of Christ and the love of God – abide in and through us. It is also a kingdom that will never be fully realized in our lives, in this world, but will reach its fulfillment in the age to come. It is a both/and kingdom.

So, it’s a both/and kingdom; and we are invited, by the grace of God, and the love of Christ, and the ongoing action of the Holy Spirit, to be a part of the kingdom coming into fruition right here and now through acts of love and compassion.

The way we help others need not be grand. It need not be something that wears us out. And, while helping some one may make us feel good about ourselves and be a motivating side perk, feeling good about ourselves can’t be the primary reason we help, not if we want to help with the compassion of Christ. We don’t help with the intent and purpose of boosting our own egos nor to find our meaning in life. We help because that is what it means to be the hands and heart of Christ in the world. In a curious way we often find that in the end we, who were supposedly doing the helping, are in fact the one helped.

Helping, showing compassion and love for others, is what we are called by God to do. We do this because it’s how we build community, it’s how we create the Body of Christ, it’s how we bring forth God’s kingdom now and in the future. It’s a profound question we are to ask ourselves, “How can I help?” And the answer is simple, look carefully around you; you’re bound to see someone in the ditch of life. And when you do, offer them a kind word, a strong hand, a loving heart. Then again, don’t be too surprised if you are the one in the ditch.

Ordinary God

2010-07-05T20:47:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 9C: 2 Kings 5:1-14; Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, St. John's, Burlington, WI

A few months ago I drove from Tucson Arizona north through southern Utah and then east to Chicago, over 2000 miles of driving. Along the way I visited family and places where I have an ancestral connection. My family, on both sides, were pioneers who travelled west in the late 1840’s to settle Salt Lake City and northern Utah. One of these, my great, great, great, great, great, grandfather was named George Washington Hill. He was born in Ohio, moved to Missouri where he met Cynthia Utley Stewart, and after some time asked her to marry him. She refused telling him that she was a Mormon and reportedly said, “You don’t want to marry a Mormon.” He persisted and finally she relented and married him. He later converted and then led his new family on the journey west in 1847. Cynthia and George had nine kids – so somewhere out there I have a lot of cousins. A few of them have written biographies of George, which can easily be found and read on the internet if you Google him. (He’s not the George Washington Hill that shows up in Wikipedia who earned a fortune in the tobacco industry)....

The drive through Arizona and southern Utah takes one through some desolate land, of sand and rock and not much else, land that is now, sadly, Indian reservation. George fought against moving the Indians to reservations, or so the story goes. He loved them, worked closely with the Shoshone and Nez Perce tribes. Knew their language, and according to one family journal I’ve read, he created the only translation guide for English speaking people to learn the native language. Family lore has him baptizing thousands of Native Americans. His pale skin and red hair, a family trait inherited by my mother and my brother, earned him a special name, Inka-pompy, which means “red-beard” in Nez Perce.

I don’t know if it’s accurate but many of the stories from the mid-1800’s, when the Mormons and the Native Americans lived together in northern Utah, describe a shared life. According to these stories theirs was not the life of cowboys and Indians fighting over control of the land. Instead, it seems they worked together to build community. One of the primary ways my great grandparents participated in building community was through prayer, in particular healing prayer. Building community through the power of prayer is one of the fundamental ways we human beings manifest the peace of Christ in our lives and the world around us. Prayer is also fundamental in the transformation of those who come to know deeply the love of God. Our scripture readings this morning from 2 Kings and Luke focus on these themes: the healing love of God and the power of the peace of Christ to transform lives.

In 2 Kings Namaan is a powerful general and like many people of his stature he is a bit full of himself. Even when he is ill with a horrible skin disease he remains prideful and arrogant. It’s a bit surprising then that Naaman listens to the voice of an unnamed young slave girl as she directs him to Elisha, toward a source of healing. Less surprising is Naamans response to Elisha’s cure – bathing in a muddy river – who in their right mind would want to do that? But, eventually Naaman is persuaded to bathe and he is healed. This story reminds us that God’s healing and the peace of Christ come to us in unexpectedly ordinary ways – like a young girl and every day mud and water.

This story points us to look at how God speaks to us in ordinary ways – so ordinary that they are unexpected and perhaps overlooked if we aren’t being careful. The readings ask us to consider how God is reaching out to us through others, in ways we least expect, and how these people reveal the peace of Christ to us. The readings also ask us to ponder how we might be that love of God and peace of Christ to others.

The heart of the Gospel reading this morning conveys to us a similar idea – of transformation through the love of God and the peace of Christ in the ordinary. Jesus speaks of sending his disciples out - and today those disciples are you and me – sent out to share the Good News, in ordinary every day ways. Sent out too love generously, to help, to share, to grow in relationship with one another; and if what we offer is rejected our task is not to judge, but to let it be, shake the dust off our feet, and simply continue to share God’s love and the peace of Christ as generously as we can.

Our Gospel reminds us that the kingdom of God is an unfolding process – one that begins here in the life we live on this earth – and then continues into the life that is to come. The kingdom is a both/and kingdom which calls us to be attentive to the now while keeping an eye on the future. It’s a kingdom that requires us to not become stuck in safety, comfort, pride, or arrogance.

Soon the youth of this parish will travel to South Dakota to spend time working on an Indian reservation. The work there will be hard but the kids will learn a great deal. There will be a sharing of gifts – what the kids bring in terms of labor and hope to the people on this reservation – and what the Native Americans share with the kids in terms of their powerfully organic understanding of life and how everything is connected – earth, sun, life, God. It will be a time of mutual sharing of gifts – what the kids bring and the Native Americans offer – each learning and growing from the offering of the other. The love of God will prevail and all will be filled with a new sense of the peace of Christ. And, all of that gifting and growing and transforming from just being together and doing simple ordinary everyday things together.

Like the youth of this parish and their mission trip to South Dakota, the kingdom of God asks all of us to stretch ourselves in love and for the love of God...and in so doing prepare the way for the peace of Christ to come into the world anew this day, every day, in simple, ordinary ways.

Transformation of God's Love

2010-06-20T20:41:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 7C Luke 8:25-39, St. John’s Mt. Prospect

Ok. So, I have these dogs. Some of you know this because you’ve met them. On any one day I will have two, three, or four dogs, depending on whether I have just my two and or the dogs that belong to our son or daughter.

One of the dogs, the oldest of them, is prone to dreaming in her sleep. All of them will do this on occasion, but my oldest dog does it often. There she will be, day or night, sound asleep, when all of a sudden her legs will start twitching and her feet will move frenetically, like she’s running. Her voice will whimper and whine and you can tell that something is going on. Of course she can’t tell me her dream but I imagine it’s something to do with chasing rabbits or squirrels through a wide open field, something delightful.

I think restlessness, even more than the commercials we see for “restless leg syndrome,” is a real symptom of the world we live in. There’s a pervasive restlessness in people young and old. As young people we are restless to grow up. I remember the summer of 1974 when my mother and I went to visit the University I would attend in the fall. These were the days before computers and internet and online registrations. We had to take care of registration and look at housing and do what-ever else had to be done in person. One afternoon during that visit I was on my own, I can’t remember why or what my mother was doing. Anyway, I remember walking the campus and day dreaming about what my life would soon be like. Free of parents, free of home, starting a life of adventure. During that walk I bumped into a young guy who talked to me about campus life and how much he enjoyed the area. He offered to show me around and I got in his car for a tour.

Looking back now I gasp at that thought. I got into the car of a total stranger for a tour of an area I didn’t know at all. At the time, for a brief moment when we were out in the middle of the National Park that bordered this campus area I remember thinking that maybe I had made an unwise decision. But the guy my age, young and friendly, returned me safely to campus with no cause for alarm. Still. When I read about the tragedies that can happen I understand the restless excitement that would propel a young woman into dangerous decisions, even if they seem perfectly innocent at the time. Restlessness can motivate us forward but it can also have tragic consequences. More often though restlessness is subtle and covert, masked as something other than what it really is.

Our Gospel reading this morning describes some of the tragic consequences of a restless spirit manifested in the man possessed by a demon. He can’t keep his clothes on. He is driven to wander and cannot be restrained even by chains. This restless spirit is destructive to him and to those around him. He can’t focus and get his life on course. I think we can all relate to feeling this way at one time or another – unable to focus and find a direction for our lives. The man in our reading today is an extreme, but this restlessness can be more subtle, and yet still destructive.

As human beings we feel restless to get our career going, restless to buy a house, restless to marry, restless to have kids, restless to go on vacation, restless to retire and then restless to know what to do with ourselves in retirement. Lately many of us are restless with anxiety over health, oil spills, bad weather and a struggling economy. We are restless with worry over our lives and or the lives of those who know and love. There is something in the air that seems almost demonic about the times we live in.

Jesus helps us understand a bit about demonic times. There are several stories in our scripture readings about Jesus casting out demons and freeing people who have come under their control. Demons come in many forms, we all have our own demon, so to speak.

Maybe your demon is a propensity to slothfulness, you just like to go slow and do very little. Maybe your demon is self criticism and poor self esteem. Maybe your demon is working too hard and not knowing how to relax. Maybe your demon is anger or bitterness over something that has happened. Maybe your demon is greed or selfishness. Who knows? Whatever the case, we all have demons that make us restless and keep us from being who God fully desires us to be.

The demon in our reading this morning consumes the man and defocuses him from anything and everything he tries to do. The man possessed with this demon wanders constantly distracted first by one thing and then another and as a result his life is a shambles.

Carl Jung, a depth psychologist who was a student of Freud before he moved in a different direction and formed his own branch of psychology, says that each of us is born with an innate desire for God. He says It’s as if we each have within us this empty hole that yearns to be filled over the course of our lives. We don’t know this, at least not consciously, but the “hole” desires to be filled with God. Often though we humans, conscious of an emptiness but not sure what to do with it, try to fill that hole with other things – food, alcohol, work...This hole, this empty place inside manifests as cravings and yearning and, well, like a demon can pull us away from God and toward the temptations of this world. Ultimately that empty place will not be satisfied no matter how much we fill it with stuff until we learn to fill it with God.

The man possessed with demons shows us this. He is endlessly unsatisfied. That is until he meets Jesus.

When Jesus becomes the focus of our lives, when Jesus lives within us, in a truly deep way, the emptiness that Jung speaks about is filled and there is less room for our demons to take hold or keep hold of our lives. I don’t know exactly how this works. It’s something like we hear in scripture reading this morning; Jesus sees our torment and acts to relieve us of it. It’s an act of compassion, of love, of grace. It’s offered to us but it also requires us to accept it when offered. And it’s not just a gift of compassion, it’s an invitation into a relationship. This relationship, like any other asks both parties to participate in growing the relationship. We have a responsibility to nurture our relationship with Jesus.

So, accepting this gift of love and compassion, offered by Christ, and entering into a relationship with Christ, can change our lives even when it doesn’t change the circumstances of our lives. Even in this Gospel reading, everything in the man’s life was the same: he still lived in the same town, knew the same people, everything was the same except his inner sense of self. When he focused on Jesus and nurtured that relationship he was changed on the inside, filled with a new sense of peace and renewed sense of self.

That may not seem like a lot, that one changes inside. At first glance it may seem like my dog dreaming of chasing rabbits, just an illusion. But actually, it’s everything. Changing on the inside affects how we see ourselves and the world around us. Changing on the inside can mean the difference between being focused on hope or the death of hope, lost to our demons, lost to our illusions. Focused on Christ, the gaping hole inside is filled, and we find our direction and the purpose of life itself.

Proper 5C

2010-06-06T20:38:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proper 5C Pentecost 2: 1 Kings 17:8-24, St. John’s Burlington WI

In the early evening, as the temperatures were cooling from a hot June day, the family arrived. Clamoring out of the van was the mother, young and very tall with a beautiful face. Following her were five children, four boys and a girl, ranging in age from 17 to 4, and the grandmother, an elderly Islamic woman. This elderly woman was the mother of one of the three different men who had fathered the five children. They made an odd, rag tag group of international travelers if there ever was one. But more than what comprised them as a family, what I remember most is the look in their eyes.

These fourteen pair of eyes were tired, worn weary by too much despair, loss, and probably violence.. The eyes told me of a pain so deep that to survive these people had shut down all feeling. They were simply going through the motions of unloading the few pieces of luggage; all that remained of their material lives. And most likely the suitcases, and what was in them, had been given to them by the refugee resettlement agency, whatever they once owned was long lost or stolen. All they really had was each other.

Originally from Rwanda, over the last 48 hours or so the family had travelled from a refugee camp in Cameroon, to the Sudan where they flew to Paris and then to Chicago. The house they were to live in on the south side of Chicago was not yet ready and so they ended up, at the last minute, at my church. Because it was summer all of our Sunday School classes had ended, we had an entire upper level of our church building available for them. From these we created bedrooms and a living room, a television, bathrooms with showers, and downstairs, a full kitchen stocked with food. But before our tour of the space was over most of the family had crawled into bed and gone to sleep. Only the eldest daughter and mother walked the tour as the translator explained how to use the stove and oven – my biggest fear being that they’d blow themselves up in the process of trying to make dinner. After all they’d been through that was the last thing I wanted.

It appears the family slept straight through until late the next day when I heard the kids out playing on the playground and parking lot. I remembered the translator telling them to not go in the street, that cars move fast and will kill them and also to not eat the bunnies or birds that live on the property. Obviously they were not in Africa anymore and an understanding of cultural norms could not be assumed.

A little while later I got a phone call from the refugee agency. The 11 year old boy had an injury, an infected finger, could I take them to the local urgent care center? Of course, and so I gathered the mom and the boy and my husband, and off we went.

The urgent care center, despite the fact that the family had not been here long enough to get their medical papers, took them in immediately. The boys’ finger was badly infected and the doctor had to lance it. The doctor was fabulous, talking the boy, who understood a little English, through the process. Nonetheless the boy screamed out in pain as the doctor lanced and cleaned the wound. I held his other hand and comforted him.

The mother sat motionless on the other side of the room, her eyes turned away, listless. I didn’t know what to make of it. Was it a cultural norm for her that her son was supposed to be strong, to suck it up and deal with this on his own?

Or, was she so overwhelmed by despair and pain and suffering that she had nothing left, not even a word of comfort or a caring hand for her son? I don’t know the answer – we didn’t speak the samelanguage; I do know that I have never seen anything as empty as the look in her eyes.

I imagine Elijah encountered this same empty look in the eyes of the widow of Sidon and her son. Worn down by endless challenges with no prospect for relief, the widow was preparing to die. Really, what difference would it make if she shared the last little bit of flour and oil with this stranger, there wasn’t enough food to go around anyway. This last meal wasn’t going to provide substance or sustenance for anyone anyway. It hardly mattered, feed one, feed three, who cares, they were all going to die anyway. And even dying no longer mattered. So what. The bottom of the barrel, the bottom of the ditch, the end of the rope, the end of the line. This was it. There was nothing. Nothing more.

We used to think, those of us in this country who were born after the depression, that this level of despair belonged to other people in other countries. But that’s not so true anymore. For some of us, it’s never been true. Farmers facing the loss of crop and land. Factory workers facing loss of job. Oil riggs that sink. Oil spills that ruin fishing waters. Teachers being laid off. All around us foreclosures, empty retirement funds, bankruptcy. You and me, and all around us, people with that look in their eyes, a look that says I can’t take anymore. I’ve shut down. I’m deplete of even the ability to feel despair. I’m empty.

But maybe that’s the point our reading from 1 Kings is leading us toward. Desolation, despair, emptiness – these times, these feelings, are part of human life. None of us is exempt from feeling these feelings. So pervasive and profound are these feelings that Christian mystics have written countless books calling times such as these “the desert” – a lonely empty time when even God seems to have abandoned us.

The refugee mother, by the end of the procedure on her sons’ finger, was a little better. She came around, a bit, as we tried to explain the need to clean and apply antibiotic cream, and rebandage the wound. As if she finally had a purpose and something she could do. Like the widow making bread, a purpose, something to do.

Slowly, over the next week as this refugee family lived in our church and spent time with us the mom came to life. She began to smile, she became engaged with her kids, she relaxed. Maybe, I thought, she finally found a sense of hope.

Somehow, no matter how desperate, how desolate, how much despair, there rises within us something else. Hope. Where does it come from? Who knows? Grace, probably. Grace from the God who loves us constantly. Grace from a God was broken too, broken on the cross, broken open, despair becoming love, flowing out in blood and water. Grace from a God who abides with us through our darkest moment and knows that our deepest fear is the loss of all hope.

For the widow, Elijah becomes her hope. Elijah says simply, do not be afraid. One way God makes God’s self present in the world is to come to us through another person – someone who shows us hope. Someone who, for whatever reason and in whatever way, shows us how to put one foot in front of the other. Perhaps this person is for us just a hope for hope. But in that hope for hope, God is present. In that hope for hope, comes the God who is broken with us, the God within whose very being is the will to sustain us.

And so, sometimes it’s just the hope for hope that keeps a person going. A hope that somehow there will appear a way through this. A way, like endless flour and oil, to make bread, or a wound to clean and bandage, a way to keep going, to be sustained, until hope really is hope. And life is made new again, and wholeness comes.

Trinity Sunday

2010-05-29T20:33:00.000-05:00

A reflection on Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31, Romans 5:1-5 , John 16:12-15, preached at St. John's, Mt. Prospect, IL

In the last 8 months I have made four trips between Arizona and Chicago. I’ve logged some 10,000 miles in driving. My most recent trip was in late April when I returned to pick up one of our cars that we had to leave behind when we moved. It’s a long story why, which I’ll spare you. Anyway, in late April I flew to Tucson to get the car and drive it back. Usually I drive the “southern” route: heading east through southern Arizona, north through New Mexico, cutting across Oklahoma and Missouri and then up across Illinois from St. Louis to Chicago. 1849 miles, one way, give or take.

But for this trip I decided to drive north through Arizona and southern Utah, then up to Salt Lake City where I have family, and then head east across Wyoming, Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois. It would be a longer trip by several hundred miles, but I could drive at a leisurely pace stopping to see family along the way.

For various reasons I got a late start the day I left Tucson. It was about 4:00 in the afternoon when I finally began the drive north to Phoenix and picked up my son, his belongings, and his dog. Because it was late we got to watch the moon, a full moon rise as we descended over the mountains and down toward the Prescott area. It was a beautiful full moon, huge, like the harvest moons we have in this area, only seemingly closer, bigger, and brighter. Under that full moon we drove through the desolate Indian reservation land of North Arizona, just east of the Grand Canyon. The wind that night was fierce and I had to drive through several blinding dust storms. It was eerie and frightening, but we made it to Page, Arizona, about midnight, and without incident.

The next day we travelled to Escalante, Utah, along a highway lined with gorgeous red rock bluffs of Bryce and the Grand Staircase canyons. There my dad has a home where we stayed for a couple of nights before heading up to Salt Lake City. Leaving Escalante, we decided to take the back way up to Salt Lake, traveling the scenic route of highway 12, which essentially makes a horse shoe loop from Highway 89, through the Grand Staircase area, and then back to Highway 89 several hundred miles north. It is a breathtaking drive literally across the top of the Rocky Mountains, climbing nearly 10,000 feet in altitude. At one point we were driving on a narrow two lanes of highway with no guard rails and a straight drop down the side of the canyon. I was sure that a good strong gust of wind would blow us right over! It was terrifying. It was beautiful. It was awesome! An endless view of the spectacular beauty of God’s creation and the amazing skill of human beings who managed to build this highway which allowed us to see and appreciate that beauty.

Our reading from Proverbs speaks of this very idea. It speaks of the creative energy of God, known at various times as Wisdom or the Holy Spirit. This energy of God was present at the beginning of creation, emanates from God, and as we hear in the Nicene Creed and the prologue to the Gospel of John, from Christ. The Holy Spirit, God’s wisdom, participates in the act of creation, from the beginning and up to this day. From Proverbs we hear: “Does not wisdom call.... To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live...God created me at the beginning.... then I was beside God like a master worker..”

This Holy Spirit, this Wisdom, God’s worker lives and breathes in us. We celebrate this gift of the Holy Spirit on the feast of Pentecost, as we did last Sunday, and on the occasion of our baptism. The Holy Spirit, in bestowing on us our spiritual gifts, calls us into a creative process with God. Wisdom is calling! Everywhere and within every thing! This same Wisdom that participates with God in creation calls us to embody that artistry in our lives. We are called to embody the artistry in all manner of creative effort, becoming through the power of the Holy Spirit, co-creators with God. Co-creating not just in building highways and construction that makes human life easier, and not just in art, like a painting or pottery, and not only through gardening BUT also in caring for others. For this Wisdom, this Holy Spirit is equally creative in comfort making and beauty-making as it is in justice-making.

In Paul’s letter to the Romans he unpacks for us a deeper sense of how God’s justice-making Wisdom is embodied in and through Christ. Paul writes: ...”We have peace with God through Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand” – The grace of God that comes to us through Christ is an active grace determined to change the world through love and compassion. It calls us out of our passivity to the injustices of this world. It’s a grace that leads us through the sandstorms of life, through the grit, through the times when we can’t see the road ahead, through our own fears. It is a grace that leads us through fear into love because we have been loved first. Being loved first, by this God, who is within God’s very self a being of relationship – God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit – three persons, one person, a relationship with self and others..

This is reinforced in the Gospel reading this morning from John: “When the Spirit of truth comes, the Spirit will guide you into all the truth.” We know from the life of Jesus that the truth John speaks of is love. Jesus tells us that the purpose of our lives is to love God, love self, and love others.

Baptized into the life of Christ, gifted with the Holy Spirit, we are therefore grounded in God’s hope, grace and love. We are then called by the Holy Spirit, by God’s Wisdom to share this same love with others. Wisdom, the Holy Spirit, calls out to us to be the hands and heart of Christ, to mend the brokenness of this world. Hope, grace, and love are a gift to us, but they are also our responsibility. A powerful Celtic hymn, known as St. Patrick’s breastplate, sung often on Trinity Sunday or at ordinations reminds us of this: I bind unto myself today the strong name of the Trinity. As Christians we are bound in Name, in our baptisms, and through our various gifts, to live the love of God poured out in Christ and enlivened by the Holy Spirit. Listen! Wisdom is calling!

For Love, and Oil

2010-03-22T12:40:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the propers for Lent 5C: Isaiah 43:16-21 • Psalm 126 • Philippians 3:4b-14 • John 12:1-8 by The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski, offered at St. John’s, Mt. Prospect, IL. March 21, 2010

Right out of college, in the late 1970’s, I had a small career working in dance and theater. By 1991 I was a stay at home mom with a two year old, yearning for a little something I could to do to earn money but also make my own schedule. My college roommate had carved a career for herself as a massage therapist and it seemed to me that dance and massage therapy would go well together. So, in the fall of that year I enrolled in a 14 month program that would earn me a certificate in therapeutic massage. We had classes on physiology, anatomy, and kinesiology which included memorizing all the muscles and bones in the body and how they moved. We learned various techniques for relieving muscle strain and lactic acid build up, and we had classes on oils.

Now a course on oil is not as silly as it might sound. As it turns out there is good reason to be mindful of what kind of oil one uses. I was surprised to learn that a massage could be given using regular household olive oil. But olive oil is not recommended for this purpose. First of all olive oil is heavy, even the extra light virgin olive oil is too heavy for regular use as a massage oil, besides, who wants to smell like pasta?

A good massage oil is extremely light for two reasons. First of all its light so that it goes on easily and doesn’t leave a heavy residue on the skin when the massage is over. Secondly its light so that the massage therapists hands can glide easily across the skin and feel the muscles below. A heavy oil causes friction which wears on both the therapists hands and the clients skin. And, a heavy oil like olive oil leaves a residue behind staining both clothes and the massage table sheets.

A good massage oil is made from grape seed oil which is very light, gentle, and affords a good glide with little resistance. It is quickly absorbed by the skin and leaves little residue behind. Plus, unlike olive oil, grape seed oil has no fragrance. This makes it perfect for either scenting with a healing fragrance like lavender oil or leaving it unscented for those who have allergies. My work as a massage therapist was healing work, very spiritual, and ultimately led me to discern a call to the priesthood.

The Bible cites many examples of oils used for anointing. A quick reference check through an online word search in Scripture provides 458 times the word oil is used and 171 times anoint is used – making it clear that anointing with oil is a significant holy action. Whether it’s God speaking to Moses about the anointing and creation of the people “Israel” or Samuel regarding King David or the Psalmist describing the anointed ones, or the women preparing to anoint the body of Jesus, or the Holy Spirit anointing new members in the Church in the Acts of the Apostles, or a salve to anoint one’s eyes to see, in the Book of Revelation, this word search through the Bible makes it clear that what we hear Mary doing this morning in the Gospel of John, anointing Jesus’ feet with nard, is holy, and of God.

Nard appears to have been made by boiling the roots of a plant and mixing that with an oil, probably olive oil. Nard was a popular treatment for anxiety and fear and was thought to produce a restful sleep and good dreams. (Camille Hegg, Feminist Theology Blog). I imagine its fragrance to be something far more potent than the gentle qualities of lavender, for the text says that it filled the room. Then again, she did use an entire pound of it – enough for 50 pairs of feet or more, under other circumstances. A rich, abundant, lavish, outpouring of fragrance and oil – so much so that Judas cannot contain himself and has to protest. Of course his protest is a sham, he claims to care about the poor, but we know that he is really thinking about himself and the money he could make from the profit of selling this oil. And we know that in a few days time he will make a profit on the money he gets from selling Jesus to the Romans. He’s not thinking about others, only himself. It’s sad, really.

Thankfully Jesus silences Judas’ protest and raises up Mary’s actions, showing them for what they are – Holy Spirit filled actions of love and compassion – even though they are also outrageous and lavish. Jesus reminds us that this same kind of outrageous lavish action is what God offers us too in the gift of life, and especially in the gift of new life, the resurrection.

But more than an action of love, every example in scripture when oil and anointing are used it is also a time when God is doing something new. From Genesis to Exodus, God is creating a new people. From Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles, God is bringing forth leaders of the people to show them a new way. In our reading from Isaiah we hear God transforming the community of Israel, long in exile in Babylon – transforming them once again into the people of God. Not like they were before, but in a new way.

Isaiah says, “Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”

In the Psalms we hear of God’s love given anew to the suffering people. Today’s Psalmist exclaims,

“When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."”

And in the Gospels we hear of God doing a new thing in and through Jesus – God’s love poured out like lavish oil through the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. God’s love doing a new thing in the world – choosing to be made manifest in human lives, through human hands, human hearts, human beings. That is what Mary does, she brings to Jesus, and to us, a sign of God’s mercy and compassion doing a new thing with love. The fragrance of the oil fills the house as a sign that the love of God will fill our lives. When our lives are filled with God’s love we feel an impulse deep inside, like the impulse that propelled Mary to enter the room and anoint Jesus feet, a need to let God’s love pour out through us. Mary points the way through this gentle, humble act of love. We too are called to offer acts of love seeking to heal, as Christ’s hands and heart, the brokenness of the world.

Evening Prayer

2010-03-18T19:45:00.000-05:00

A reflection for Evening Prayer, Tuesday in 4 Lent, on 1 Corinthians 11:17-34
But in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. For, in the first place, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you. And I believe it in part, for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized. When you come together, it is not the Lord's supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk. What! Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I commend you in this? No, I will not.

For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves truly, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.

So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for one another— if anyone is hungry, let him eat at home—so that when you come together it will not be for judgment. About the other things I will give directions when I come.

Our reading tonight from Paul’s Second Letter to the Corinthians points us to consider what it means to be the body of Christ. Paul is speaking to a group of people who call themselves a church, the Body of Christ. But it appears that this body has some divisiveness: Paul writes, “I hear that there are divisions among you…”. Instead of working for the good of the whole they are emphasizing the parts, their individual needs are taking precedent over what is best for all. Paul calls them to consider how their individual parts might actually be used to make the whole stronger.

This reminds me of something my family and I have experienced recently. Last September our daughter drove to Arizona for a visit. She brought with her one year old 75 pound Weimaraner puppy…and then left him with us for six weeks while she returned home to attend to some issues she had to address. Mind you, we have two dogs, a 60 pound lab-mix and 50 pound Viszla. We figured though, that this would all work out – I mean Jessi, our daughter, was a participant in the raising and training of our two dogs, and she is currently a trainer, a professional equestrian, training horses to be ridden and people to ride horses. We thought that like us when she wanted her dog to stop she’d say stop. And when she wanted her dog to stay, she’d say stay. But instead she used the same words for her dog as for her horses…stay is wait, and stop is whoa. For about a week Dan and I stumbled through a series of words with these three dogs: stop no! wait no! stay no! whoa!

Curiously, though, the dogs figured it all out rather quickly. When one stopped, they all stopped. When one waited, they all waited. It really didn’t matter what words we used. Soon enough we all just adapted to the situation and learned how to blend our parts in a working whole.

Paul writes:” When you come together, it is not the Lord's supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal…” If each of our dogs had insisted on their own words and commands we would have chaos. But because they adapted and blended their own needs for the whole, we end up having pleasant walks.

As the body of Christ, we come to our faith community as individuals – or to continue the metaphor in Paul’s Letter to Corinth, “We come with our own meals.” We have our own life experiences and education, our own homes and families, and ideas. We have our own experiences of God and our own hopes and desires for what community life will be like. This is particularly true during this time of transition as we gather to discern a potential new relationship between priest and congregation – each of us coming with our own ideas, hopes, and dreams for the future.

The relationship of a priest and congregation is like any other relationship. The two come together, each with their own language and ideas and experiences and slowly learn how to adapt and blend these into a whole. The priest does not define the congregation and the congregation does not define the priest. Instead each refines the other into a richer deeper whole.

So, the consequence of adapting and blending the parts into the whole is both richer and deeper parts AND richer and deeper whole body. But the purpose of the body, the reason for the body is not just to nourish ourselves. Ultimately the purpose of the parts, of you and me, becoming the whole, the body of Christ, the community of St. Potential New Church, is for us to be able to nourish others in the world around us, and for them to nourish us. It’s a mutuality of relationship – you, me, us, them, God, Christ – blending and adapting our individualness into a whole, the cup, the bread, a meal. Thus we become a new covenant of thanksgiving for the love of God poured out in Christ, given to us, and shared with all.

Epiphany 3C

2010-01-24T21:29:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the propers for Epiphany 3C: Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a, Luke 4:14-21

Geraldine Brooks was a correspondent for the Wall Street Journal where she covered the wars in Bosnia, Somalia, and the Middle East. She is also a Pulitzer Prize winning author for the book, “March.” Her latest novel, “People of the Book” tells a story of intrigue and mystery similar to the DaVinci code. The subject of the novel is an ancient haggadah. A haggadah is a book that tells the story of the Exodus of the Hebrew people from Egypt, led by Moses, Aaron and Miriam, through the Red Sea. It is the Passover story told each year on the eve of Passover at the Jewish seder meal. Brooks crafted this story of fiction on the few details that are known about the famous Sarajevo Haggadah, a beautifully illustrated 500 year old manuscript that somehow travelled from Spain to Vienna and eventually to Sarajevo. It survived the book burnings of the Inquisition, two world wars and the book burnings of the Nazi’s, and the war between Bosnia and Croatia. It’s a story of how three religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, all born from the same roots – from Abraham and Moses – participated in the creation and survival of this haggadah. And, while the story is fiction, it is based on some evidence about the real Sarajevo Haggadah, of three faith traditions working together, in its creation, its history, and its survival.

It appears that the real haggadah was first created during a time in history called the Conviviencia, when Jews, Christians, and Muslims coexisted in Spain in relative peace, and exchanged ideas and culture freely. The Conviviencia period lasted for about 500 years, from 1000 to 1499. The Sarajevo Haggadah is significant not only for its history but for its beautiful illustrations.

The story Brooks crafts around this Haggadah travels back and forth in time, from the 21st century ancient manuscript conservationist, a woman named Hanna from Australia, through the various significant periods in the books history, with enough suspense and intrigue to warrant the comparison to the DaVinci code.

I offer this book review this morning because I think the premise of this book points us in the same direction as our scripture readings this morning – to ponder the ways in which God expresses God’s self in the world and what it means, in the broadest of terms to be the body of Christ, which I suspect is greater than Christianity and includes our sisters and brothers in Judaism and Islam. Now I doubt that a Jewish or Muslim person would appreciate being considered a part of the Body of Christ, but if we remember that Christ is God incarnate then I think we can say that these three religions are expressions of the body of God.

Many years ago I read another book called The Good Heart. It was based on a presentation given by the Dalai Lama to a group of Christian meditators in England who invited him to come to their conference as their guest speaker. The idea was that each morning the Dalai Lama would be given a text from the Christian Gospels. He would then go off and meditate on the reading for a few hours. He would have no advance notice on what the text would be and he would not utilize any books to unpack the meaning of the text. He was just given the text and left to meditate on it. After a few hours the group would gather and the Dalai Lama would offer a reflection on what the text means. The group was consistently amazed at how Christian the Dalai Lamas’ understanding was of the Gospel readings. In other words, he got it. When asked if he thought all people should convert to Buddhism, since it seemed to this crowd to be a source of great wisdom, the Dalai Lama said no. He believes that there are a variety of religions in this world for a reason, and we should each practice the religion that speaks most deeply into our beings and helps us grow as people of faith. He said there was probably some merit in helping people who have no faith to find a religion that speaks to them so that they can be more fulfilled in life, but there was no real purpose in converting people from one faith to another. We may or may not agree with that premise, but it does point to a deep appreciation for the Body of God. It also reminds me of the Rule of Benedict, for those who practice Benedictine spirituality – the Rule of Benedict helps us understand how every activity and encounter is holy and reflective of divine inspiration – that God is all around us, in and through us, and all we meet and do. This is what some call the “Stillspeaking God.” The God who speaks to us in stillness, the God who is still speaking to us even to this day.

It also points us to ponder what Parker Palmer, that great Quaker author, educator, and activist, describes as “deep obedience” - about how we listen to God and let God speak through us, or what he calls, “sound- through.” Paul Tillich, a 20th century theologian, once described three approaches to authority and law: heteronomy, the rule of an outside force or imposed law; autonomy, individualistic self-rule; and theonomy, alignment with God’s vision for our lives and the law of our being. Theonomy is not imposed from without but reflects our deepest nature and what is truly good for us as persons. From this perspective, the law of God – or as our scripture this morning says, the law of Moses – inspires us to that deep-obedience, the ability to let God “sound through” our lives as the foundation for the well-being of person and society. (Process and Faith Blog).

Nehemiah describes this same idea with the words we heard this morning about Ezra reading the scroll and the people listening, all who could hear with meaning. In other words, not just listening to the words but really understanding the meaning of the law of God, which Jesus summarizes for us as “Love God, Love neighbor, love self.” The Dalai Lama exhibits this kind of sounding-through love of the Stillspeaking God. And I suspect that people living in Spain during the Conviviencia, Muslims, Jews, and Christians, had a deep understanding of this too. When we allow or provide room for that idea of love, God’s love, to listen through us, we begin to understand what deep obedience really means. How broad and deep God intends for us to live and love in our lives. Jesus points to this as well in our Gospel reading when he states that the scripture has been fulfilled in their hearing….that listening to the word of God, deeply in our being, meditating on it until it lives and breathes through us, is an act of fulfilling the scripture, living into the law, becoming the Body of Christ.

And when we do this we are no longer compelled to point fingers or judge others. Instead we hold out our hands and say, let us walk together, for we are the same body, the hands, the foot, the mind, the heart, the body of God.

A Vision of Love

2009-12-25T10:21:00.000-06:00

A reflection for Christmas Eve

The scene opens with Jack, a high powered wealthy business man, preparing to buy out another company, on Christmas Eve. He insists that all of his employees stay and work late, and then come in and work again on Christmas Day. Family time for the holiday does not matter. Jack is fully in control, and gives the impression of a man who thinks his life is perfect.

The next scene: a few hours later Jack is in a convenience store when he encounters what looks like a potential armed robbery. He intervenes by offering the thief $200 dollars to leave the store, and after some haggling the two of them walk out together. As they wander down the street Jack continues to offer help to the thief, ideas and suggestions for changing his life. The thief is amused that Jack is trying to help him. At one point the thief says, “Wow, ok, you want to save ME, that’s incredible. Alright then, just remember, you brought this on yourself.” That’s when we, the audience watching this movie, get our first clue that this thief is not who he appears.

The next morning, Christmas morning, Jack, wakes up in a room, in a bed, he does not know, with a woman he knew 13 years earlier, a woman who is now, apparently, his wife. And instead of a high rise apartment in New York he is in a house in New Jersey, a married man with two kids and a dog, and a beat up minivan instead of a Ferrari. Understandably Jack is stunned, confused, speechless. And despite the fact that it is Christmas morning and family is arriving to open gifts, Jack bolts out of the house and drives into Manhattan, in a futile effort to find his life again. After a series of events that tell Jack that the life he knew is gone, or never happened, he then encounters the thief again, this time driving Jack’s Ferrari. It turns out the man, played by the actor Don Cheadle, is not a thief, but an angel. And Jack, played by Nicholas Cage, is about to learn that his perfect life was not so perfect.

Over the next scenes Jack begins to realize what is really missing from the life he led as a powerful business man. At first it is a struggle, he misses the fine restaurants and clothes, the luxury of his “former” life. But he also comes to realize the deep emptiness within him, from a life without love. Eventually the movie returns Jack to his old life, back to Christmas Day and the corporate buy out he was completing. Only now he has a vision of what his life could be like. He no longer wants to live for wealth alone, he wants to live for love. His vision of life has been transformed, and now he yearns for nothing more than to find that love and live the life of his vision.

This time of year is filled with movies like this one, The Family Man, or It’s a Wonderful Life; movies and stories about the transformational power of love. Each story contains a pivotal moment when we see the main character transformed.

On this night we celebrate the pivotal moment in our salvation history, the Incarnation. The birth of God into human flesh is for us the most important act of love that God offers humanity. The incarnation is the pivotal moment in the Christian story of salvation – God’s love in human form – defines for us who we are and what we are to do.

It is the birth of God in human form that shows us a vision of the life God desires for us. It is the birth that leads to the death that culminates in the ultimate sign of love, the new life, the resurrection. The birth is the event that brings God’s love to us in tangible human relationship.

In the Gospel of Matthew there is a crucial argument that takes place between Jesus and Pharisees. Well, most of Matthew is an argument between the Pharisees and Jesus – but this one question changes everything. The Pharisees ask Jesus which commandment is the greatest. Now, it is helpful if we remember that in scripture there are not just the 10 well known commandments, but 613 commandments that God gives to Israel. 613 rules for living in right relationship with God. The Pharisees ask this question of Jesus, but it is a trick question, because what ever one commandment Jesus chooses they will argue for another – well, what about this one, or that one?

Jesus, showing his brilliant understanding of God and what God is doing in the world, offers the one answer the Pharisees cannot argue against. He says, “The greatest commandment is this, You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, your mind, your soul, and your strength, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On this hang all the law and the prophets.”

Love God, love self, love neighbor. From the incarnation and the life that Jesus lives, we have a vision of the depth of God’s love for creation, for us. Not just a vision, but a real experience of love, of being loved and of offering love in return. Tonight we celebrate a simple humble love born in a human baby to a human family -not to grandeur, power, and wealth, but under the most modest of circumstances.

Simple, and yet, it’s the only love that can comfort us in our deepest sorrow. It’s a compassionate love that fills us with peace even during our darkest moment. It’s a merciful love that sees into every kind of difference between us and shows us what we have in common. It’s a grace-filled love that laughs with us and celebrates our joys. It’s the love of a friend, a parent, a companion, a colleague, a stranger. It’s the kind of love that transforms every face into the face of Christ, every hand into the hand of Christ, every heart into his heart – mine, yours, theirs, ours. It’s the kind of love that mends brokenness, heals wounds, restores wholeness, even when the possibility of such a love is just a glimmer of light, a star in the dark night sky.

That’s the vision that God offers us in the incarnation. The potential of what could be if we let the vision take hold of us and guide our lives. That’s the vision that comes to us anew this night. That’s the hope God offers us for our lives and our world, simple, humble, yet all encompassing love.

Bearing Worthy Fruit

2009-12-14T11:42:00.000-06:00

A reflection on the propers for Advent 3C: Luke 3:7-18

A few days ago I decided to make chocolate chip cookies, a double batch. And while the butter softened in the afternoon sun that streamed in the kitchen window, I took my dogs for a walk. It was a clear, crisp, sunny day, following that winter storm that packed near hurricane strength winds. Debris still littered the streets, branches and shriveled cacti, and streams of mud. I plugged in my iPod, popped in the earphones, leashed up the dogs and walked out the front door. There I encountered the roar of an engine. Even through the music and the headphones, I could hear it, a border patrol helicopter. Looking to my left I saw it, almost close enough to see the pilot. The helicopter was making a small circle around an area about block from where I stood.

With a deep sigh I headed off on my walk, the hum of the helicopter vibrating through my headphones. By the time I returned home however the copter was gone. So, too, probably whoever they were looking for. Although this is common around here it still gives me pause to think and wonder, sadly, about whomever it is they are looking for.

Now I have no idea where you all stand on the border issue. I know some folks who easily say, “They’re illegal, and breaking the law, so just shoot ‘em.” I find that a little extreme. I know other people who leave water jugs in the desert along known pathways, and people who cross over the border to help bandage the feet of those returned. I know the border patrol is doing what it is supposed to do and some of that includes tracking down violent drug cartels and the illegal smuggling of human beings. But sometimes it just a desperate person doing a foolish thing in an effort to try and make a living. And it is that person my heart aches for.

It’s a person like this who became the catalyst for the creation of Just Coffee, which we were selling here last Sunday. Ten years ago Eduardo left his home in Chiapas after Hurricane Mitch which followed on the heels of the dramatic fall in coffee and corn prices, all of which undermined the financial structure of his community.

Eduardo migrated 2000 miles north, from Guatemala to Agua Pietra where he found a job in a factory and joined the Lily of the Valley Presbyterian Church. Not long afterward Eduardo was offered a better paying job at a golf course in Phoenix and on Oct. 4, 1999 he migrated, illegally over the border. The journey was arduous, Eduardo fell, injured his knee and was caught by the Border Patrol. He was sent back to Mexico where the members of his church cared for him as he healed. A broken man in many ways, he helped his Pastor understand the pain that the coffee growers experience when they are unable to make a living wage and have to leave their land. The pastor, collaborating with an Episcopal priest in Douglas, AZ, along with their parishioners, began the process to establish Just Coffee, a co-op based in Chiapas and Agua Pietra.

Generally speaking the grocery store coffee is manufactured by companies who pay the coffee growers a substandard wage. As a result many coffee growers around the world have taken to selling their land or finding other ways to supplement their income, usually illegal means. Just Coffee offers an alternative – the families who join the co-op work together to grow, transport, roast, package, and ship the coffee. The proceeds go back to the families in the co-op providing a living wage profit. Think about it – for the price of a bag of coffee you are helping families stay together, support a community of people to earn a living wage, and reduce illegal border crossing. That’s the gift of Just Coffee, but it is also the gift of buying any Fair Trade merchandise, be it coffee or jewelry or pottery. In this season of gift buying Fair Trade offers us a way to give in more ways than one. And it’s possible that if we all bought Fair Trade more often we could shift the global economy and reduce poverty around the world. Now that is a radical thought.

Being radical is exactly what John the Baptist is calling us to do – think and act in radical ways – ways that will change the world. John is harsh, wild, critical - he calls his own followers a brood a vipers - and proclaims the end of the world with the coming of the Messiah.

But ultimately the Gospel of Luke seems interested in something else – not so much the destruction of the world but rather the transformation of the world. In pointing us toward Jesus Luke is pointing us in the direction God would have us go – a direction that is focused more on transformation of ourselves and our world than on condemnation of our selves, of others, and of our world. Luke wants us to see that in the coming of Christ God is calling us all to a new way of life – a life that asks us to love in very profound ways, life changing ways. It seems that John in the Gospel of Luke is pointing the way to a new social pattern, one that will change the entire world – entire communities built upon the premise that God is calling us to love more deeply than we can possibly imagine – to “bear fruits worthy of repentance”…

We might wonder what it means to bear fruits worthy of repentance. Certainly the people listing to John did and asked him, “What shall we do?” John’s response was direct and specific: if you earn a living don’t earn more than you deserve, if you own things don’t own more than you really need, share with others, and lastly, while John calls it extortion, we might think of it as allowing ignorance to protect us from recognizing the consequences of our actions. For example, what are we buying and who is benefiting from those purchases? The latest collapse of our economy is indicative of what happens when ignorance and greed prevail over compassion. Perhaps ignorance, greed, and lack of compassion are the chaff in our society that needs to be burned in an unquenchable fire.

I recognize that I am blessed. I have a house and the resources which enable me to make chocolate chip cookies and own an iPod. It might be easy for me to live in my own little world and ignore what is happening in my own backyard. But John won't let me. He names our chaff, calls us out of ignorance propels us to self awareness and from awareness into action.

In our confession each Sunday we ask to be forgiven for things known and unknown. I know that there are things I do that unintentionally cause harm. It’s startling to think that it can be as simple as the brand of coffee I drink. Transforming the world into what God desires includes becoming self aware, choosing not to live in ignorance, and repentance.

So, burning the chaff by asking for forgiveness of things known and unknown, is one step in the process of transforming this world into that which God desires. Repentance, changing our behavior is the next step. Bearing the fruit of repentance is the third step and it requires us to take action to change not just ourselves but the world around us. For me, one simple action is coffee. Perhaps for you it is something else. But if we all take steps to become aware, repent, and take action together we can follow the cry of John the Baptist, bear fruit worthy of repentance, and rejoice!

Go and Do Likewise

2009-10-24T16:02:00.000-05:00

A reflection on the readings for Proper 25B: Job 42:1-6, 10-17 and Mark 10:46-52
by The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski

My family and I live in Green Valley, having moved there from Chicago about 2 years ago. It’s a big change for us, living in a small town in the middle of the desert instead of the hustle and bustle of a major Midwest city. There are some things we really like about where we live. For example, we live on the foothills of the Santa Rita mountains, just a few miles from Madera Canyon. The view out our backyard is spectacular and the birds at our feeders are plentiful and beautiful.

But there are many things we miss about Chicago. The restaurants, or more specifically a good Italian beef, is one thing. We also miss the variety of options on cable television. Where we are we do have cable, but it’s limited. The same movie will play over and over, days on end. Old movies. For example, about every three months one of the movie channels will play Clear and Present Danger, the movie version of the Tom Clancey novel that stars Harrison Ford. I’ve seen it so many times now I’d know it by heart, that is if I were really paying attention instead of knitting.

Ford plays the acting director of the C.I.A. who is caught and nearly murdered in a secret war between the President of the United States and the Columbian drug cartel. Living this close to Mexico we know a thing or two about drug cartels and the violence they bring. The conflict in the movie lies between those who see morality in shades of gray and Ford who thinks a person can know the difference between right and wrong, and that you must respond accordingly.

As the movie runs its course there is a scene where Ford, in the jungles of Columbia, realizes that he has been set up. He and a friend go deep into the jungle trying to rescue survivors of an American commando team. That this team exists, that they betrayed him, and that they now face destruction, have all been hidden from him for much of the movie. But now, knowing of their existence and need to be saved, Ford feels moral bound to save whomever he can find. As it turns out there is only one survivor left. Upon learning this the commando screams, “Who did this? Who is responsible?” Ford’s character steps forward and says, “I am.” It’s a powerful scene. He clearly is not responsible, he is a victim like the rest. But he is now risking his own life to try and fix what others have done.

Responsible is a word that has two meanings. One meaning is blamed ridden – “Who is responsible for this mess?” the other meaning connotes maturity “She is a responsible woman.” Perhaps this joke will help illustrate what I mean: A mother heard the family cat yowl in pain. She knew where to look: she looked for her son Tommy, and said, "Tommy, stop pulling his tail."

Replied Tommy, "I'm not pulling his tail. I'm just standing on it. He's doing the pulling."

Drawing its meaning from “able to respond” - a responsible person takes action to do the right thing. Ford’s character is able to respond to the situation, he is response-able.

Our readings this morning, particularly Job and the Gospel, focus on responding. Job responds to God and Bartimaeus responds to Jesus, each becomes respone-able for their lives in relationship with God.

By the end of the story of Job we come to understand, as he does, that what matters is not where his suffering “came from” but where it can “go”. Richard Rohr in his book, Job and the Mystery of Suffering suggests that one of the words in the final Job chapter is perhaps misinterpreted. God reminds Job that God is the creator of all and that Job is part of God’s creation. As a result God is always in and with Job, through thick or thin, sorrow or joy, God is present. We then hear that Job repented IN sack cloth and ashes, but Rohr suggests that maybe Job repented FROM sack cloth and ashes. In repenting Job takes responsibility for his own life and he moves from a place of woe and self pity to a place of action and ultimately transformation.

The story of Bartimauus is a similar story of responding, and what can come from it. In the Gospel we have several examples of responding: first we have Bartimaeus who hears that Jesus is coming, his salvation is at hand. “Have mercy on me” Bartimaeus shouts. But the crowd responds by trying to stifle Bartimaeus’ shout.

• An entire sermon could be preached on the response of the crowd trying to keep Bartimaeus from Jesus and Jesus from Bartimaeus, how they try to contain God’s mercy…the question we could ask ourselves is how might we, consciously or not, try to keep God contained? But that’s for another day.

The crowd fails and Jesus not only hears Bartimaeus but Jesus responds with a question. Like Job responding to God, Jesus’ question to Bartimaeus pushes him into action. Responding to God, taking action, moving beyond the walls we construct for our own lives and into what God desires for us transforms us.

God meets us in the midst of the chaos of our lives and calls us to respond. The response God desires is always the same: what ever the situation, what ever has happened, we are called to respond in a way that loves God, loves self, and loves others.

Doing this responding with love bringing forth a new sense of order, and transforms us into a deeper faithful people in the process. From the beginning of creation we hear about God taking the chaos of this world and pulling from it that which can contribute toward a greater good, a new life, a new order. God does it with love and then calls us to do likewise.