Tell Out My Soul
Tell out, my soul, the glories of his word! Firm is his promise, and his mercy sure. Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord to children's children and forevermore. Stanza 4, Hymn 438, Hymnal 1982
Episcopalians often think theology through hymn texts. When I'm working on a certain theme for a sermon or a teaching session, I do think of certain Bible passages right off the bat. More often, hymns come to mind first. I then have to work my way back to Hooker's famous Anglican three-legged stool (scripture, tradition and reason) in order to get back to the scripture from the tradition (hymnody)!
This morning, I have the demise of our newspaper industry much on my heart. Tuesday and Wednesday, the Baltimore Sun cut its newsroom staff by nearly a third. The reduction hit nearly every type of job in the 205-person newsroom--top editors, copy editors, photographers, critics, columnists, sports reporters, page designers and graphic artists. The cuts have affected Memorialites.
I suppose that I'm a dying breed--but I love the local morning newspaper. Breakfast over the sports page (if I can get to it before Bryan). Lingering over the rest of the paper with my cup of strong Irish breakfast tea. It's a firm morning ritual. I am even old enough to remember when there were two local newspapers. For me, that meant reading the Washington Post in the morning and the Evening Star in the late afternoon. Although I have resorted in the past few years to reading the New York Times in addition to the Sun in order to get important national and international news, I can't imagine how I'd learn about the local goings-on in Baltimore except through the newspaper. Now I'm not completely living under a rock. I do check the weather on the internet as well as watch the Daily Show with Jon Stewart (and sometimes the Colbert Report). But I am never quite satisfied with the method of finding and then reading the news on the internet.
As it looks as though the Sun will be less and less news and more and more ads in the days to come- a mere vestige of its former self--I wonder: What will happen to those marvelous obituaries that Fred Rasmussen and Jacques Kelly write? How will folks that have not come into the computer age--the elderly--find out about funerals? What about the local neighborhood events around food and gardens that Rob Kasper so eloquently and enthusiastically covers? Of course, what about the extended coverage of the Orioles (as painful as it is right now) and the Ravens? These articles bring pleasure and hope to my life. Given the size of Baltimore, I often read about folks I know in the Sun. How will I know their stories?
Well, I guess that I will have to be on-line more in the days to come. But, truth be told, I don't think I'll ever sidle up to a laptop with my cup of tea to read the news. I'll have to find another way. Times change. But the loss of a local newspaper would be the end of an era. It's the way that I know that a community tells out its soul.
Do you still read the local paper? How do you get your news?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Better Times
Many are saying, "Oh, that we might see better times!"*Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord. Psalm 4:6
The local news has been rough these days. Not only is our economic news unsettling, our local news in Baltimore and the surrounding region has been downright disturbing. Adding to the urban violence that has become all-too-commonplace, last week the front pages of the Baltimore Sun told the story of two murder-suicides of families by fathers. Today the front page story was about a pastor who murdered a disabled adult for insurance money. You have to wonder what the world is coming to these days. I join with the psalmist and say "Oh, that we might see better times!" I'd also add another psalm verse: "How long, O Lord?"
It is into these times that God's resurrection hope beams once again this spring. Boy, do I need the resurrection this spring! As I look through the lectionary Gospel readings for the next few Sundays in Eastertide, the readings are classic portions of John's Gospel. However, after this Sunday, we move away from the resurrection appearances to the images of Jesus as Good Shepherd, the vine, the exemplar of love. What I need right now are those great scenes of Jesus appearing to the disciples in the flesh. With all the news in our world today, I need to touch and be touched by Jesus.
That's why I give thanks for the Eastertide activity that always takes place at Memorial in the spring. While most clergy and church staff feel as though summer should arrive just after Easter only to find at least 6 weeks of busy program yet to come, the time of blessings, baptisms, garden dedications and musical production at Memorial is just what I need. We need opportunities to come together in joyous thanks and celebration for the life that we have. Last night at Opening Night of the Sound of Music was a perfect example.
Last night the house was full. We saw Maria leave the convent and begin her time as governess of the Von Trapps. Yet, just as the thunderstorm brought all the children to Maria's bed, a cry went up from the audience. "House Lights!" One of the cast members' grandfather was ill. Immediately fron the audience, a doctor, a medical student and an EMT ministered to this man. An ambulance was called. The man was transported to the hosptial in good hands. But what happened in those moments while we waited and then after the medical crew left was a resurrection appearance. What happened was this...as we waited, we prayed. As the crew transported the man to the waiting ambulance, we sang Amazing Grace. Children in the cast (there are at least 30) came out to hug their parents. Then, the show went on. The Goatherd scene with all the children dressed and acting as puppets brought smiles to the crowd. Cheers ensued. All was well. An amazing moment in community.
Here's what I felt in that moment of community....when hard things happen to us and those we love and know when we are in community, it feels different from reading about those events in a newspaper, television or the internet. In Memorial Church last night, the community held the love and fear, the joy and sorrow all together. We could hold hands and pray together as teenagers backstage worried about their friend and her grandfather. We could comfort the wife of the ill man at the door as she waited for the ambulance. We could sing the song we all know about overcoming adversity and hardship and pain. We could say God is there and touch one another in assurance that Christ is among us. We could sing and laugh again even in the midst of the fragility of human life. He is risen. It makes all the difference in the world. Alleluia!
Many are saying, "Oh, that we might see better times!"*Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord. Psalm 4:6
The local news has been rough these days. Not only is our economic news unsettling, our local news in Baltimore and the surrounding region has been downright disturbing. Adding to the urban violence that has become all-too-commonplace, last week the front pages of the Baltimore Sun told the story of two murder-suicides of families by fathers. Today the front page story was about a pastor who murdered a disabled adult for insurance money. You have to wonder what the world is coming to these days. I join with the psalmist and say "Oh, that we might see better times!" I'd also add another psalm verse: "How long, O Lord?"
It is into these times that God's resurrection hope beams once again this spring. Boy, do I need the resurrection this spring! As I look through the lectionary Gospel readings for the next few Sundays in Eastertide, the readings are classic portions of John's Gospel. However, after this Sunday, we move away from the resurrection appearances to the images of Jesus as Good Shepherd, the vine, the exemplar of love. What I need right now are those great scenes of Jesus appearing to the disciples in the flesh. With all the news in our world today, I need to touch and be touched by Jesus.
That's why I give thanks for the Eastertide activity that always takes place at Memorial in the spring. While most clergy and church staff feel as though summer should arrive just after Easter only to find at least 6 weeks of busy program yet to come, the time of blessings, baptisms, garden dedications and musical production at Memorial is just what I need. We need opportunities to come together in joyous thanks and celebration for the life that we have. Last night at Opening Night of the Sound of Music was a perfect example.
Last night the house was full. We saw Maria leave the convent and begin her time as governess of the Von Trapps. Yet, just as the thunderstorm brought all the children to Maria's bed, a cry went up from the audience. "House Lights!" One of the cast members' grandfather was ill. Immediately fron the audience, a doctor, a medical student and an EMT ministered to this man. An ambulance was called. The man was transported to the hosptial in good hands. But what happened in those moments while we waited and then after the medical crew left was a resurrection appearance. What happened was this...as we waited, we prayed. As the crew transported the man to the waiting ambulance, we sang Amazing Grace. Children in the cast (there are at least 30) came out to hug their parents. Then, the show went on. The Goatherd scene with all the children dressed and acting as puppets brought smiles to the crowd. Cheers ensued. All was well. An amazing moment in community.
Here's what I felt in that moment of community....when hard things happen to us and those we love and know when we are in community, it feels different from reading about those events in a newspaper, television or the internet. In Memorial Church last night, the community held the love and fear, the joy and sorrow all together. We could hold hands and pray together as teenagers backstage worried about their friend and her grandfather. We could comfort the wife of the ill man at the door as she waited for the ambulance. We could sing the song we all know about overcoming adversity and hardship and pain. We could say God is there and touch one another in assurance that Christ is among us. We could sing and laugh again even in the midst of the fragility of human life. He is risen. It makes all the difference in the world. Alleluia!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
The St John's Bible
As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne, his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne of fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire. Daniel 7:9
I have to go back! This morning, the Wednesday morning Bible Study class went on a field trip to the Walters Museum. We went to see the St. John's Bible special exhibit. Little did I know that I was about to be completely amazed.
The St. John's Bible is an extraordinary project begun at St. John's College and Abbey in Minnesota. St. John's Abbey is one of the largest Benedictine communities in North America. To honor the millennium, the abbey decided to take on a great project---an illuminated bible for the 21st century. Collaborating with a master calligrapher and artist from Wales, the Abbey has seen to it that the St. John's Bible is on its way to completion by 2010. The purpose of this modern illuminated manuscript is to present the biblical story with an openness that would invite all faiths and people into the conversation.
At the exhibit, the manuscript pages range from the Gospels to the Apocrypha to the Hebrew Scripture of the Old Testament. The image of the Ancient One in Daniel was a figure that called out to the viewer--a figure that was not a figure of judgment but of compassion. Brilliant blues with gold leaf swirled in his robe and hair. Another favorite of our class was the Woman representing Sophia. Her wise, wrinkled face of silver and purple could have been an elderly woman from any part of the world--from a Native American tribe to a woman from the San of Africa. There were images from the Koran, Hebrew Scripture, Hindu text, and the Hubbell telescope woven into the biblical images. To top it off, the St John manuscripts were placed side by side with the Walters world class medieval manuscript collection. The whole exhibit was only three rooms, but I could have stayed all day.
Easter resurrection comes to us through all mediums--through liturgy, community, chance encounters. Today, Jesus came to me through the pens of calligraphers, artists and scribes from the 1200s through today.
The exhibit continues into mid-May at the Walters. It is only $8. By all means, GO...and see if you find God in a new way.
As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne, his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne of fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire. Daniel 7:9
I have to go back! This morning, the Wednesday morning Bible Study class went on a field trip to the Walters Museum. We went to see the St. John's Bible special exhibit. Little did I know that I was about to be completely amazed.
The St. John's Bible is an extraordinary project begun at St. John's College and Abbey in Minnesota. St. John's Abbey is one of the largest Benedictine communities in North America. To honor the millennium, the abbey decided to take on a great project---an illuminated bible for the 21st century. Collaborating with a master calligrapher and artist from Wales, the Abbey has seen to it that the St. John's Bible is on its way to completion by 2010. The purpose of this modern illuminated manuscript is to present the biblical story with an openness that would invite all faiths and people into the conversation.
At the exhibit, the manuscript pages range from the Gospels to the Apocrypha to the Hebrew Scripture of the Old Testament. The image of the Ancient One in Daniel was a figure that called out to the viewer--a figure that was not a figure of judgment but of compassion. Brilliant blues with gold leaf swirled in his robe and hair. Another favorite of our class was the Woman representing Sophia. Her wise, wrinkled face of silver and purple could have been an elderly woman from any part of the world--from a Native American tribe to a woman from the San of Africa. There were images from the Koran, Hebrew Scripture, Hindu text, and the Hubbell telescope woven into the biblical images. To top it off, the St John manuscripts were placed side by side with the Walters world class medieval manuscript collection. The whole exhibit was only three rooms, but I could have stayed all day.
Easter resurrection comes to us through all mediums--through liturgy, community, chance encounters. Today, Jesus came to me through the pens of calligraphers, artists and scribes from the 1200s through today.
The exhibit continues into mid-May at the Walters. It is only $8. By all means, GO...and see if you find God in a new way.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Second Sunday after Easter---April 19, 2009
Garden Dedication
Oh, how good and pleasant it is, * when brethren live together in unity. Psalm 133:1
Today we dedicated our Lafayette Avenue garden. Many years ago, Memorialites Frank and Lottie Shivers were instrumental in making that area a green space and not just a concrete sidewalk. Since then, the garden has had many loving caretakers. Two years ago, Peter Dunn and Louise Toby--both landscape architects--had a vision of what the garden could be. When Jose Lamdin, Denis' mother, died last year, Denis asked if there were a project at the church which could be a memorial to his parents. Peter and Louise's garden became a reality.
It wasn't as easy as we thought. When we began to anticipate the digging, we realized that now would be the time to take care of the drainage problem in the undercroft. The old nursery space had always leaked in that one corner. My guess is that it has leaked from the moment that the dirt basement was dug out for office space decades ago. More funds needed to be raised to dig down and place new drainage pipes. Peter went to work...and mission accomplished. The mass of electrical wires and pipes running through the garden rivaled our spaghetti junction during the renovation. Peter and Louise remained calm and steady.
Before long, the underground mechanics gave way to plantings, a memorial fountain, and a beautiful wooden bench. As we gathered to bless the space today at the end of the service, it is amazing how projects come together in God's time. With our musical stage up and confirmation this afternoon, our community does find a myriad of ways to live together in unity and welcome. And more gardening has taken place. The Rite 13 class along with Dale Balfour and Pam Garrettson have planted a native plant garden in the Rectory garden. We hope to have a summer coffee hour out there soon.
In all of this, I wonder where we each will meet Jesus this Eastertide. You never know where Jesus might turn up--in the garden, on the stage or in the audience of our musical, in a conversation over dinner after confirmation. Jesus is among us. Especially when we find ways to live together in unity.
Here's the blessing that I used at the garden ceremony--I've adapted it from Jennifer Heckart's prayer We See a Gardener in Women's Uncommon Prayers:
Risen Lord, so often encountered, so seldom recognized, you meet us in the garden of our hearts, on the lonely roads of our lives, our empty beaches (or benches!), and greet us. But in our blindness, we mistake you for someone else. Through our tears, we see a gardener; in our weariness and wariness, a stranger. But you call us back to ourselves. Forgive us our heard-heatedness, our lack of understanding. Open our eyes and our ears to you, wherever you are found, and give us grace to love you with abandon, to throw ourselves into your service, as Mary threw herself at your feet, as Peter threw himself into the sea. AMEN.
Look for Jesus this week--he may appear in a place where you least expect him to appear!
Oh, how good and pleasant it is, * when brethren live together in unity. Psalm 133:1
Today we dedicated our Lafayette Avenue garden. Many years ago, Memorialites Frank and Lottie Shivers were instrumental in making that area a green space and not just a concrete sidewalk. Since then, the garden has had many loving caretakers. Two years ago, Peter Dunn and Louise Toby--both landscape architects--had a vision of what the garden could be. When Jose Lamdin, Denis' mother, died last year, Denis asked if there were a project at the church which could be a memorial to his parents. Peter and Louise's garden became a reality.
It wasn't as easy as we thought. When we began to anticipate the digging, we realized that now would be the time to take care of the drainage problem in the undercroft. The old nursery space had always leaked in that one corner. My guess is that it has leaked from the moment that the dirt basement was dug out for office space decades ago. More funds needed to be raised to dig down and place new drainage pipes. Peter went to work...and mission accomplished. The mass of electrical wires and pipes running through the garden rivaled our spaghetti junction during the renovation. Peter and Louise remained calm and steady.
Before long, the underground mechanics gave way to plantings, a memorial fountain, and a beautiful wooden bench. As we gathered to bless the space today at the end of the service, it is amazing how projects come together in God's time. With our musical stage up and confirmation this afternoon, our community does find a myriad of ways to live together in unity and welcome. And more gardening has taken place. The Rite 13 class along with Dale Balfour and Pam Garrettson have planted a native plant garden in the Rectory garden. We hope to have a summer coffee hour out there soon.
In all of this, I wonder where we each will meet Jesus this Eastertide. You never know where Jesus might turn up--in the garden, on the stage or in the audience of our musical, in a conversation over dinner after confirmation. Jesus is among us. Especially when we find ways to live together in unity.
Here's the blessing that I used at the garden ceremony--I've adapted it from Jennifer Heckart's prayer We See a Gardener in Women's Uncommon Prayers:
Risen Lord, so often encountered, so seldom recognized, you meet us in the garden of our hearts, on the lonely roads of our lives, our empty beaches (or benches!), and greet us. But in our blindness, we mistake you for someone else. Through our tears, we see a gardener; in our weariness and wariness, a stranger. But you call us back to ourselves. Forgive us our heard-heatedness, our lack of understanding. Open our eyes and our ears to you, wherever you are found, and give us grace to love you with abandon, to throw ourselves into your service, as Mary threw herself at your feet, as Peter threw himself into the sea. AMEN.
Look for Jesus this week--he may appear in a place where you least expect him to appear!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Thursday April 16, 2009
The Sharing of Goods
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common...There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. Acts 4:32,34-35
The Book of Acts recounts the beginnings of the Christian Church in the years after Jesus' resurrection. Jesus' followers, including the disciples, are doing their best to live in community as Jesus taught them. One of the hallmarks of the early Christian community was the sharing of goods. The notes in my annotated NRSV Bible say that this practice only happened in the Christian communities in Jerusalem and perhaps in the Essene communities outside the city. Presumably, this means that all of the communities that Paul visited--Corinth, Rome, Ephesus, etc--did not practice the common sharing of goods. I wonder how long this practice lasted in the early church. Two scenes come to mind.
First, this passage reminded me of a scene that is fresh in our minds from Holy Week. When Mary anoints Jesus' feet with the pure ointment of nard, there is dissension. Judas is upset for using a possession of the community which could be sold and the money given to the poor. Perhaps other disciples in that room in Bethany that night were upset. Even before Jesus' death, there was consternation about how to have enough for all (remember the feeding of the five thousand?) as well as when to use what for whom.
Playing alongside this scene is a scene from today's headlines---the TEA parties. All over the country yesterday, folks gathered to register their disapproval for our tax system. As I looked over the crowds that gathered, I wondered: were there any people in the crowd that were without shelter or food or health care that day? What about the very least among us as a nation? Part of our role as Christians is to look after the least of these. How do we care for the least of these in our American cities and rural areas? How do we raise the money and distribute to those who are in need?
The idea of pooling resources is often touted as a socialist system. How do human beings care for each other with our limited resources? Not just in our own country, but throughout the world? Jesus' example and the early church's example cause us to take a step back and wonder just how revolutionary Jesus' message is.
How do reconcile the early church's rule of life--the sharing of goods in common--with your life today?
Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common...There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles' feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need. Acts 4:32,34-35
The Book of Acts recounts the beginnings of the Christian Church in the years after Jesus' resurrection. Jesus' followers, including the disciples, are doing their best to live in community as Jesus taught them. One of the hallmarks of the early Christian community was the sharing of goods. The notes in my annotated NRSV Bible say that this practice only happened in the Christian communities in Jerusalem and perhaps in the Essene communities outside the city. Presumably, this means that all of the communities that Paul visited--Corinth, Rome, Ephesus, etc--did not practice the common sharing of goods. I wonder how long this practice lasted in the early church. Two scenes come to mind.
First, this passage reminded me of a scene that is fresh in our minds from Holy Week. When Mary anoints Jesus' feet with the pure ointment of nard, there is dissension. Judas is upset for using a possession of the community which could be sold and the money given to the poor. Perhaps other disciples in that room in Bethany that night were upset. Even before Jesus' death, there was consternation about how to have enough for all (remember the feeding of the five thousand?) as well as when to use what for whom.
Playing alongside this scene is a scene from today's headlines---the TEA parties. All over the country yesterday, folks gathered to register their disapproval for our tax system. As I looked over the crowds that gathered, I wondered: were there any people in the crowd that were without shelter or food or health care that day? What about the very least among us as a nation? Part of our role as Christians is to look after the least of these. How do we care for the least of these in our American cities and rural areas? How do we raise the money and distribute to those who are in need?
The idea of pooling resources is often touted as a socialist system. How do human beings care for each other with our limited resources? Not just in our own country, but throughout the world? Jesus' example and the early church's example cause us to take a step back and wonder just how revolutionary Jesus' message is.
How do reconcile the early church's rule of life--the sharing of goods in common--with your life today?
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Wednesday, April 15th
God and the Emperor
Teacher, we know that you are right in what you say and teach, and you show deference to no one, but teach the way of God in accordance with truth. Is it lawful for us to pay taxes to the emperor, or not? Luke 20:21-22
Jesus answers this question with the famous line: "Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." (Luke 20:25) This scene takes place as Jesus is surrounded by students who seek to learn from him and spies from the Roman authorities who seek to trap him and so arrest him. Like a good teacher (and maybe lawyer), Jesus is unable to be trapped by his words.
Today is April 15th--a day that lives in infamy for many folks each year. In my parish setting, I notice that along with major holidays, Tax Day is a day that brings forth much anxiety for many folks. Of course, Tax Day often coincides nicely with a major holiday or season of the church--Lent and Eastertide. In the doldrums of Lent, folks begin to assemble (and find) their financial records. Piles of papers that have sat quietly minding their own business for months are riffled through on the weekend. Procrastination runs high in January and February. For those having to file financial aid forms for schools and colleges, procrastination doesn't work. Those financial aid offices require copies of the returns in early spring. Questions abound. Will there be a refund? For clergy types and the self-employed, did we pay enough estimated quarterly tax? Money is a major anxiety producer--especially these days. How can Jesus understand? He lived a nomadic, monastic existence.
Ah, but Jesus does understand. Look at all the parables and stories from his ministry involving money. Earning, Coveting, Hoarding, Panicking about money are all ways for us to be pulled away from God. Yet, in our society, money has its place--if we can put it in the proper perspective.. For me, I am blessed to have a husband who organizes the tax papers nicely. He has studied, marked, read and inwardly digested the Clergy Tax Guide. Because of him, I can concentrate on Lent, Holy Week and Easter this time of year. However, I know from my time as a clerk on the Tax Court and from my colleagues who work in tax law (and even for the IRS), that the majority of folks who work in this area do so because they believe in our system of taxation and want to make it work. It is important for the health of our country--especially now--to pay our taxes. It is easy to become cynical and see all the loopholes and earmarks in the Tax Code. However, for the folks I know that work in tax policy and legislation, the common good is the ideal for most.
I always feel good when we send in our returns each year--although it feels even better when a refund comes our way. For me, it has become a responsibility that means that I am part of a larger community. A community that can be a vehicle for doing Kingdom work. Another part of my responsibility as a citizen is to hold that community responsible for the common good. As a follower of Jesus, I continue to work for the Kingdom of God in all the communities to which I belong. I just have to keep it in perspective.
How do filing your taxes make you feel?
Teacher, we know that you are right in what you say and teach, and you show deference to no one, but teach the way of God in accordance with truth. Is it lawful for us to pay taxes to the emperor, or not? Luke 20:21-22
Jesus answers this question with the famous line: "Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's." (Luke 20:25) This scene takes place as Jesus is surrounded by students who seek to learn from him and spies from the Roman authorities who seek to trap him and so arrest him. Like a good teacher (and maybe lawyer), Jesus is unable to be trapped by his words.
Today is April 15th--a day that lives in infamy for many folks each year. In my parish setting, I notice that along with major holidays, Tax Day is a day that brings forth much anxiety for many folks. Of course, Tax Day often coincides nicely with a major holiday or season of the church--Lent and Eastertide. In the doldrums of Lent, folks begin to assemble (and find) their financial records. Piles of papers that have sat quietly minding their own business for months are riffled through on the weekend. Procrastination runs high in January and February. For those having to file financial aid forms for schools and colleges, procrastination doesn't work. Those financial aid offices require copies of the returns in early spring. Questions abound. Will there be a refund? For clergy types and the self-employed, did we pay enough estimated quarterly tax? Money is a major anxiety producer--especially these days. How can Jesus understand? He lived a nomadic, monastic existence.
Ah, but Jesus does understand. Look at all the parables and stories from his ministry involving money. Earning, Coveting, Hoarding, Panicking about money are all ways for us to be pulled away from God. Yet, in our society, money has its place--if we can put it in the proper perspective.. For me, I am blessed to have a husband who organizes the tax papers nicely. He has studied, marked, read and inwardly digested the Clergy Tax Guide. Because of him, I can concentrate on Lent, Holy Week and Easter this time of year. However, I know from my time as a clerk on the Tax Court and from my colleagues who work in tax law (and even for the IRS), that the majority of folks who work in this area do so because they believe in our system of taxation and want to make it work. It is important for the health of our country--especially now--to pay our taxes. It is easy to become cynical and see all the loopholes and earmarks in the Tax Code. However, for the folks I know that work in tax policy and legislation, the common good is the ideal for most.
I always feel good when we send in our returns each year--although it feels even better when a refund comes our way. For me, it has become a responsibility that means that I am part of a larger community. A community that can be a vehicle for doing Kingdom work. Another part of my responsibility as a citizen is to hold that community responsible for the common good. As a follower of Jesus, I continue to work for the Kingdom of God in all the communities to which I belong. I just have to keep it in perspective.
How do filing your taxes make you feel?
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter Monday--April 13, 2009
The Easter Blessing: Telling the whole truth
Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for? "
Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." John 20:13-14
Telling the whole truth. It is the only way to be whole. Holy Week and Easter show us the way.
From the beginning of Maundy Thursday through Easter Day, I was struck by how Jesus tells his truth. Then, in turn, the disciples are asked to tell their truths. This truth telling continues through Eastertide. For Jesus' followers, it all begins with Mary Magdelane at the tomb.
In order to move from grief to joy, it is important that we share our grief aloud. Mary is asked twice--by the angels and then by Jesus himself--WHY she is weeping. Before she can turn to Easter joy and witness to her Lord's resurrection, she must unburden her heart from her worry and grief. Jesus knows this.
In his book God has a Dream, Desmond Tutu notes that human beings need to tell their stories of suffering in order to be whole. Nations need to tell their stories of suffering in order to be whole. What is true for post-apartheid South Africa is true for us. Tutu says that using the phrase "Oh, let's just let bygones be bygones," destines us to learn that bygones never be begones. That suffering will just go underground to continue to live and grow in our psyche and the psyche of a country.
Of course, we so often don't tell the truth in order to spare another pain and hardship. But that often backfires. Folks--especially folks that are children--know when something isn't right. When the truth is not plain, we all try to insert our own assumptions into that space. Again, keeping silent so as to keep the peace or avoid pain often leads to more hardship and suffering.
Each Eastertide presents the opportunity to tell a truth about our lives and our world that needs to be told. What truth is God calling you to tell this Eastertide? What truth will set you free?
Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for? "
Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." John 20:13-14
Telling the whole truth. It is the only way to be whole. Holy Week and Easter show us the way.
From the beginning of Maundy Thursday through Easter Day, I was struck by how Jesus tells his truth. Then, in turn, the disciples are asked to tell their truths. This truth telling continues through Eastertide. For Jesus' followers, it all begins with Mary Magdelane at the tomb.
In order to move from grief to joy, it is important that we share our grief aloud. Mary is asked twice--by the angels and then by Jesus himself--WHY she is weeping. Before she can turn to Easter joy and witness to her Lord's resurrection, she must unburden her heart from her worry and grief. Jesus knows this.
In his book God has a Dream, Desmond Tutu notes that human beings need to tell their stories of suffering in order to be whole. Nations need to tell their stories of suffering in order to be whole. What is true for post-apartheid South Africa is true for us. Tutu says that using the phrase "Oh, let's just let bygones be bygones," destines us to learn that bygones never be begones. That suffering will just go underground to continue to live and grow in our psyche and the psyche of a country.
Of course, we so often don't tell the truth in order to spare another pain and hardship. But that often backfires. Folks--especially folks that are children--know when something isn't right. When the truth is not plain, we all try to insert our own assumptions into that space. Again, keeping silent so as to keep the peace or avoid pain often leads to more hardship and suffering.
Each Eastertide presents the opportunity to tell a truth about our lives and our world that needs to be told. What truth is God calling you to tell this Eastertide? What truth will set you free?
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Wednesday and Thursday of Holy Week--April 8 & 9, 2009
Reclining at table with Jesus
One of the disciples--the one whom Jesus loved--was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, "Lord, who is it?" Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I give this peice of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." John 13:23-26
Yesterday evening, I attended a Passover seder dinner at close friends. We sat at a long table all together. I sat next to the grandfather and grandmother. The grandfather grew up in a conservative and orthodox family in Brooklyn, New York. Our hosts and friends are reform Jews. So, the grandfather gave me a fascinating commentary about how the seder how changed over the years--both in language (inclusive), food (much more kosher offerings), and actions.
When we reached a certain part of the seder haggadah, we spoke about reclining at table. Grandfather D said, "It's time for a footnote." We stopped the seder liturgy and listened. He recounted that when he was growing up, there were always large pillows near the table during the seder. At certain points of the service and dinner, the men would recline at table. The women were working hard in the kitchen. We went on to talk about the Last Supper. Grandmother D asked me: "Some folks believe that there were women at table at the Last Supper. What do you think?" At another part of the Haggadah, we paused as our host asked us to reflect on the bondage of the Hebrews in Egypt. He asked us each to answer this question: How are we bound in slavery in our lives today? It was a fascinating evening. Pausing in the seder liturgy to talk about our lives today.
Overall, I was struck by the intimate, serious yet playful nature of the seder meal. Although we did not lie down on pillows, I felt a part of the gathered family. There was the familiar exodus story interwoven with Grandmother D's famous matzoh ball chicken soup and gelfite fish with horseradish. Both young daughters of the family read from the Haggadah--the youngest asking the four questions. There was bedlam in the house when they searched for the hidden piece of matzoh. There was giggling when we opened the door for Elijah. At one point in the service, Grandfather D reminded me that this is the ONE special holy day of the year that Jews celebrate at home.
All evening, I kept thinking about Jesus with his disciples that night of the Last Supper. Just as we gathered at my friends' home, Jesus had gathered with his disciples. It was intimate, serious yet light-hearted. And in that light-hearted, relaxed moment, when the disciple Jesus loved lay his head on Jesus, his body heavy with a full stomach, Jesus revealed who was to betray him. Jesus left the seder liturgy to reveal an important part of his life right then. Into this loving atmosphere, dread appeared. Given the disciples inability to listen to Jesus on the road, perhaps this is the only place that they could hear what Jesus had to tell them. On a quiet evening. At the Passover meal. In an intimate setting of family, Jesus told them the news that would change their lives.
Where do you tell important news to those you love?
One of the disciples--the one whom Jesus loved--was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, "Lord, who is it?" Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I give this peice of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." John 13:23-26
Yesterday evening, I attended a Passover seder dinner at close friends. We sat at a long table all together. I sat next to the grandfather and grandmother. The grandfather grew up in a conservative and orthodox family in Brooklyn, New York. Our hosts and friends are reform Jews. So, the grandfather gave me a fascinating commentary about how the seder how changed over the years--both in language (inclusive), food (much more kosher offerings), and actions.
When we reached a certain part of the seder haggadah, we spoke about reclining at table. Grandfather D said, "It's time for a footnote." We stopped the seder liturgy and listened. He recounted that when he was growing up, there were always large pillows near the table during the seder. At certain points of the service and dinner, the men would recline at table. The women were working hard in the kitchen. We went on to talk about the Last Supper. Grandmother D asked me: "Some folks believe that there were women at table at the Last Supper. What do you think?" At another part of the Haggadah, we paused as our host asked us to reflect on the bondage of the Hebrews in Egypt. He asked us each to answer this question: How are we bound in slavery in our lives today? It was a fascinating evening. Pausing in the seder liturgy to talk about our lives today.
Overall, I was struck by the intimate, serious yet playful nature of the seder meal. Although we did not lie down on pillows, I felt a part of the gathered family. There was the familiar exodus story interwoven with Grandmother D's famous matzoh ball chicken soup and gelfite fish with horseradish. Both young daughters of the family read from the Haggadah--the youngest asking the four questions. There was bedlam in the house when they searched for the hidden piece of matzoh. There was giggling when we opened the door for Elijah. At one point in the service, Grandfather D reminded me that this is the ONE special holy day of the year that Jews celebrate at home.
All evening, I kept thinking about Jesus with his disciples that night of the Last Supper. Just as we gathered at my friends' home, Jesus had gathered with his disciples. It was intimate, serious yet light-hearted. And in that light-hearted, relaxed moment, when the disciple Jesus loved lay his head on Jesus, his body heavy with a full stomach, Jesus revealed who was to betray him. Jesus left the seder liturgy to reveal an important part of his life right then. Into this loving atmosphere, dread appeared. Given the disciples inability to listen to Jesus on the road, perhaps this is the only place that they could hear what Jesus had to tell them. On a quiet evening. At the Passover meal. In an intimate setting of family, Jesus told them the news that would change their lives.
Where do you tell important news to those you love?
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Tuesday in Holy Week--April 7, 2009
Receiving the wisdom
Jesus said to them, "The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light." After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them. Although he had performed so many signs in their presence, they did not believe in him. John 12: 35-37
These words of Jesus from the Gospel of John appointed for today remind us that wisdom is often ignored. As children and grandchildren, we don't often don't realize the great worth of parental advice until our parents have died and we are parents ourselves. Then we have to remember that our children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, will do the same. Like Jesus, our words fall on empty ears. Some day, the words will be useful.
When I was standing in the locker room of the gym on the morning of September 11, 2001 and the television began to broadcast the horrible events of that day, I immediately thought of my father. What would he have said to me? What words of wisdom from him would help me find hope? A man that had lived through the Great Depression and World War II--it wasn't until he died and I was an adult with children of my own that I wished I had time to ask him questions I wasn't ready to ask when he was alive. I was ready for the wisdom. A new wave of grief came over me that day.
It is a learning that we all must come to as children and adults. I realize that my children may not be ready to listen to what I have to tell them. One day, my wisdom born of experience may be remembered. In the days after Jesus' death, in the years to come, the disciples and the early church yearned to remember the wisdom of the man they called their Lord. After the resurrection, they were ready to hear and receive God's Word. That's how our New Testament came to be. It is a way of remembering the actions and words of Jesus. It is also remembering that the disciples couldn't hear God's wisdom when Jesus was with them in the flesh.
I believe Jesus suffered in his inability to show his disciples what he meant. To get them to understand while he was with them. We all suffer when someone we love is unable to understand what we are trying to tell them when we have lived long enough to have wisdom born of suffering. We hope we can spare those we love--whether our children, a dear friend, a young colleague. Often, it is ignored. Sometimes, it backfires. We go and hide. We realize that we have done all we can. We hope and pray that time redeem it all.
In the end, Jesus knew this. In the end, the disciples learned this. Wisdom takes time.
Where has your wisdom been ignored or challenged? In time, has the wisdom been received?
Jesus said to them, "The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light." After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them. Although he had performed so many signs in their presence, they did not believe in him. John 12: 35-37
These words of Jesus from the Gospel of John appointed for today remind us that wisdom is often ignored. As children and grandchildren, we don't often don't realize the great worth of parental advice until our parents have died and we are parents ourselves. Then we have to remember that our children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, will do the same. Like Jesus, our words fall on empty ears. Some day, the words will be useful.
When I was standing in the locker room of the gym on the morning of September 11, 2001 and the television began to broadcast the horrible events of that day, I immediately thought of my father. What would he have said to me? What words of wisdom from him would help me find hope? A man that had lived through the Great Depression and World War II--it wasn't until he died and I was an adult with children of my own that I wished I had time to ask him questions I wasn't ready to ask when he was alive. I was ready for the wisdom. A new wave of grief came over me that day.
It is a learning that we all must come to as children and adults. I realize that my children may not be ready to listen to what I have to tell them. One day, my wisdom born of experience may be remembered. In the days after Jesus' death, in the years to come, the disciples and the early church yearned to remember the wisdom of the man they called their Lord. After the resurrection, they were ready to hear and receive God's Word. That's how our New Testament came to be. It is a way of remembering the actions and words of Jesus. It is also remembering that the disciples couldn't hear God's wisdom when Jesus was with them in the flesh.
I believe Jesus suffered in his inability to show his disciples what he meant. To get them to understand while he was with them. We all suffer when someone we love is unable to understand what we are trying to tell them when we have lived long enough to have wisdom born of suffering. We hope we can spare those we love--whether our children, a dear friend, a young colleague. Often, it is ignored. Sometimes, it backfires. We go and hide. We realize that we have done all we can. We hope and pray that time redeem it all.
In the end, Jesus knew this. In the end, the disciples learned this. Wisdom takes time.
Where has your wisdom been ignored or challenged? In time, has the wisdom been received?
Monday, April 6, 2009
Monday of Holy Week---April 6, 2009
Extravagant Love
Mary took a costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples(the one who was about to betray him), said, "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?" John 12: 3-5
We have heard the story of Jesus' passion on Palm Sunday. Beginning today, we go back. We remember the events of the Passion scene by scene. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of Holy Week, we remember Jesus' last days before the entrance into Jerusalem. What the gospels tell us in our lectionary readings is the depth of love. Not only Jesus' love for us, but the disciples' love for him. It is an extravagant love. A love that might make us very uncomfortable.
Today our Gospel reading is Mary anointing Jesus' feet with a costly perfume. After anointing his feet, Mary then wipes Jesus' feet with her hair. A tactile, sensual and intimate moment. Instead of washing his feet with water when he arrives for dinner, Mary makes an extravagant action expressing her love for Jesus. He does not stop her. He does not push her away. He accepts her extravagant offering. Not everyone does.
Judas complains to Jesus that she has wasted a costly ointment that could be sold and the money given to the poor. The text tells us Judas does not really care for the poor, but wants the money for himself. Perhaps this is so. However, I would hazard to guess that Mary's loving action made Judas very uncomfortable. There have been many studies wondering why Judas betrayed Jesus as he did. Surely he loved him. Perhaps, as the other disciples discovered, Judas knew that Jesus did not have a favorite. Judas wanted to be a favorite. Perhaps he wanted to show Jesus his deep love for him. But he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid to offer a gift of love.
In Inquirer's class last night, we discussed the liturgies of Holy Week. One of our classmates asked about the footwashing on Maundy Thursday. What was it like? Was it mandatory? The general consensus was that it made most of us uncomfortable yet we couldn't really explain why. Some say it is because our feet are rather a private part of our bodies that are often a bit dirty. We don't like to reveal them to another. This is true. What is also true, I believe, is that we are uncomfortable with someone touching us in love where we are vulnerable. It is hard for us to receive love. It is much easier to be the footwasher than the footwashee. On Maundy Thursday, we are often feeling a bit like Judas as he watched Mary give Jesus a gift of love and Jesus receive that gift willingly.
In practice, the liturgies of Holy Week are full of tactile actions that engage many of our senses. Some of the actions are deeply meaningful; others mean very little; and others make us downright uncomfortable. Everyone responds to these liturgies differently. Each year, I try to embrace those actions I love and open myself a bit more to those that I find uncomfortable. I often learn some interesting things about myself, the cross and love.
Exclusion and embrace. In our lives, in the liturgies of Holy Week, in the Passion story.
What action in Holy Week makes you most uncomfortable? May it be a gift of love offered?
Mary took a costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples(the one who was about to betray him), said, "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?" John 12: 3-5
We have heard the story of Jesus' passion on Palm Sunday. Beginning today, we go back. We remember the events of the Passion scene by scene. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of Holy Week, we remember Jesus' last days before the entrance into Jerusalem. What the gospels tell us in our lectionary readings is the depth of love. Not only Jesus' love for us, but the disciples' love for him. It is an extravagant love. A love that might make us very uncomfortable.
Today our Gospel reading is Mary anointing Jesus' feet with a costly perfume. After anointing his feet, Mary then wipes Jesus' feet with her hair. A tactile, sensual and intimate moment. Instead of washing his feet with water when he arrives for dinner, Mary makes an extravagant action expressing her love for Jesus. He does not stop her. He does not push her away. He accepts her extravagant offering. Not everyone does.
Judas complains to Jesus that she has wasted a costly ointment that could be sold and the money given to the poor. The text tells us Judas does not really care for the poor, but wants the money for himself. Perhaps this is so. However, I would hazard to guess that Mary's loving action made Judas very uncomfortable. There have been many studies wondering why Judas betrayed Jesus as he did. Surely he loved him. Perhaps, as the other disciples discovered, Judas knew that Jesus did not have a favorite. Judas wanted to be a favorite. Perhaps he wanted to show Jesus his deep love for him. But he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid to offer a gift of love.
In Inquirer's class last night, we discussed the liturgies of Holy Week. One of our classmates asked about the footwashing on Maundy Thursday. What was it like? Was it mandatory? The general consensus was that it made most of us uncomfortable yet we couldn't really explain why. Some say it is because our feet are rather a private part of our bodies that are often a bit dirty. We don't like to reveal them to another. This is true. What is also true, I believe, is that we are uncomfortable with someone touching us in love where we are vulnerable. It is hard for us to receive love. It is much easier to be the footwasher than the footwashee. On Maundy Thursday, we are often feeling a bit like Judas as he watched Mary give Jesus a gift of love and Jesus receive that gift willingly.
In practice, the liturgies of Holy Week are full of tactile actions that engage many of our senses. Some of the actions are deeply meaningful; others mean very little; and others make us downright uncomfortable. Everyone responds to these liturgies differently. Each year, I try to embrace those actions I love and open myself a bit more to those that I find uncomfortable. I often learn some interesting things about myself, the cross and love.
Exclusion and embrace. In our lives, in the liturgies of Holy Week, in the Passion story.
What action in Holy Week makes you most uncomfortable? May it be a gift of love offered?
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Saturday after Lent V--April 4, 2009
No house, No home
In life no house, no home my Lord on earth might have; in death no friendly tomb but what a stranger gave. What may I say? Heaven was his home; but mine the tomb wherein he lay.
Stanza 6 from "My song is love unknown", Hymn 458, Hymnal 1982
Tomorrow is Palm Sunday and during the Sunday liturgy, we will sing this hymn. We will sing it directly after the dramatic reading of the Passion Gospel. This hymn is one of my very favorite hymns and captures the essence of the Way of the Cross. All through Holy Week, I find the hymns of the church often say what cannot be said in sermon or spoken liturgy. Such is true of this hymn.
Most of us struggle throughout our life to find or recapture a sense of home. We search for the right house, the right job, the right schools for our children. We think if we can just nail down the perfect spot and situation that we will be comforted and at peace. Jesus' life tells us otherwise. We don't know if Jesus lived at home in Nazareth until the age of thirty and the beginning of his public ministry. However, what we remember down through the ages is his life as an itinerant minister. From Galilee to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem through Samaria to Galilee and back, Jesus did not have a permanent home. He spent a good deal of time with Mary, Martha and Lazarus in Bethany. Perhaps he stayed at his family home on occasion. The ministry we remember is his ministry on the road. As always, Jesus turns the cultural expectation upside down.
My grandmother, Mother Nell, was an itinerant woman for the last 20 years of her life. When she sold the family home in Garrett Park, Maryland, she lived for three months at a time with her three children and their families. As a child, I never knew when she was coming to our home. She just arrived. So too, when it was time to move on, one morning her baby blue Samsonite packed suitcase would appear in front of her bedroom door. Her presence in my life grounded me in a deep way. She was a source of comfort and love just by her very presence. When I saw her perusing the obituraries with her magnifying glass each morning in the library, I chuckled and knew all was well.
Mother Nell died at 96. At the end of her life, she made a series of trips to nursing homes. Her two daughters could no longer care for her. My father tried, but finally had to place her in a local nursing home. He and my aunt visited my grandmother every day. She had no house, no home, in a worldly sense. However, when I accompanied my father to visit her, I had a sense of home as soon as I walked into her room. As we rolled her out to the patio to feed the birds, I found home in her presence--even though she was less and less mentally present. Her picture is in my office. Her presence as a strong, faithful, itinerant woman is with me always.
Does our memory of Jesus work like our memory of those we love that we see no longer? Is it the love that passes beyond worldly space and time that is our true sense of home? I think so. It is a love that allows us to let go of our worldly homes and place our faith in a different sense of home. A home that never closes its door to us. A home that is with us always wherever we may be.
Where do you find your sense of home? Who is your sense of home?
In life no house, no home my Lord on earth might have; in death no friendly tomb but what a stranger gave. What may I say? Heaven was his home; but mine the tomb wherein he lay.
Stanza 6 from "My song is love unknown", Hymn 458, Hymnal 1982
Tomorrow is Palm Sunday and during the Sunday liturgy, we will sing this hymn. We will sing it directly after the dramatic reading of the Passion Gospel. This hymn is one of my very favorite hymns and captures the essence of the Way of the Cross. All through Holy Week, I find the hymns of the church often say what cannot be said in sermon or spoken liturgy. Such is true of this hymn.
Most of us struggle throughout our life to find or recapture a sense of home. We search for the right house, the right job, the right schools for our children. We think if we can just nail down the perfect spot and situation that we will be comforted and at peace. Jesus' life tells us otherwise. We don't know if Jesus lived at home in Nazareth until the age of thirty and the beginning of his public ministry. However, what we remember down through the ages is his life as an itinerant minister. From Galilee to Jerusalem, from Jerusalem through Samaria to Galilee and back, Jesus did not have a permanent home. He spent a good deal of time with Mary, Martha and Lazarus in Bethany. Perhaps he stayed at his family home on occasion. The ministry we remember is his ministry on the road. As always, Jesus turns the cultural expectation upside down.
My grandmother, Mother Nell, was an itinerant woman for the last 20 years of her life. When she sold the family home in Garrett Park, Maryland, she lived for three months at a time with her three children and their families. As a child, I never knew when she was coming to our home. She just arrived. So too, when it was time to move on, one morning her baby blue Samsonite packed suitcase would appear in front of her bedroom door. Her presence in my life grounded me in a deep way. She was a source of comfort and love just by her very presence. When I saw her perusing the obituraries with her magnifying glass each morning in the library, I chuckled and knew all was well.
Mother Nell died at 96. At the end of her life, she made a series of trips to nursing homes. Her two daughters could no longer care for her. My father tried, but finally had to place her in a local nursing home. He and my aunt visited my grandmother every day. She had no house, no home, in a worldly sense. However, when I accompanied my father to visit her, I had a sense of home as soon as I walked into her room. As we rolled her out to the patio to feed the birds, I found home in her presence--even though she was less and less mentally present. Her picture is in my office. Her presence as a strong, faithful, itinerant woman is with me always.
Does our memory of Jesus work like our memory of those we love that we see no longer? Is it the love that passes beyond worldly space and time that is our true sense of home? I think so. It is a love that allows us to let go of our worldly homes and place our faith in a different sense of home. A home that never closes its door to us. A home that is with us always wherever we may be.
Where do you find your sense of home? Who is your sense of home?
Friday, April 3, 2009
Friday after Lent V--April 3, 2009
Exclusion and Embrace
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. Whe Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. From the Good Friday Gospel reading from the Gospel of John 18:1-19:42
A different rhythm takes over as we approach Holy Week. At least for those who are immersed in church community. For those creating and revisiting these very sacred liturgies of Holy Week, there is the excitement of the once-a-year services. There are also the lapses of memory: what did we do on Maundy Thursday to remove the aubry candle from its spot during the stripping of the altar? Was it hot to the touch or not? Pressure mounts as all those involved in the services work together to make the liturgies deeply meaningful. But more than that, the rhythm of Holy Week takes on surreal movements in liturgical time. One moment I am firmly centered in the entrance into Jerusalem in the Liturgy of the Palms on Palm Sunday. The next I may be deeply embracing the suffering of the cross as I work on my sermon for Good Friday. The next afternoon, I am talking through the joyous movements of the Easter Day service with our organist Bill.
Moving backward and forward in the events of Jesus' last days. One of the movements of Holy Week that stands out to me this year is the movement of Jesus' followers in the lectionary readings from Palm Sunday onward. On Palm Sunday, the disciples gleefully follow Jesus into Jerusalem until it all goes very wrong. Then Peter, who vowed he would never deny Jesus, goes into hiding and the disciples scatter. At the end, the women are left at the foot of the cross. For the women, one moment they are close to Jesus, the next they are parted from him, then at the resurrection reunited. But not for long. It is a dance of exclusion and embrace. (Thanks to theologian Miroslav Volf for this term)
The passage at the beginning of this meditation is the passage which I am preaching on at the Three Hour service at Sharp Street Baptist on Good Friday. In that passage. Mary and Jesus perform the dance of saying goodbye to one another. There is the parting, the exclusion from one another. Then there is the embrace with the disciple whom Jesus loved. I am working with that image for the Good Friday and Easter Day sermons.
I am so blessed that I will be able to preach at Sharp Street Baptist this Good Friday. Sharp Street is the mother church of African- American Baptists. When I preach at these West Baltimore ecumenical churches, I know I have to be on my preaching game in a big way. I always have to be able to know the congregation to which I'll be preaching. When I come to the ecumenical services, I am aware of the exclusion of church communities over race in years past. I am honored by the embrace that I receive by being included as a preacher. In my sermon, I want to embrace the community. It is still a tentative dance with vulnerabilities all around.
Exclusion and Embrace. As we approach Palm Sunday, be thinking about where is your deepest suffering this Holy Week. Such suffering is often rooted around a painful exclusion or parting. Bring it to the foot of the cross, to the Passion Gospel. Where is your most joyful embrace? Give thanks for it and bring it to the garden of the resurrection on Easter Day.
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. Whe Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. From the Good Friday Gospel reading from the Gospel of John 18:1-19:42
A different rhythm takes over as we approach Holy Week. At least for those who are immersed in church community. For those creating and revisiting these very sacred liturgies of Holy Week, there is the excitement of the once-a-year services. There are also the lapses of memory: what did we do on Maundy Thursday to remove the aubry candle from its spot during the stripping of the altar? Was it hot to the touch or not? Pressure mounts as all those involved in the services work together to make the liturgies deeply meaningful. But more than that, the rhythm of Holy Week takes on surreal movements in liturgical time. One moment I am firmly centered in the entrance into Jerusalem in the Liturgy of the Palms on Palm Sunday. The next I may be deeply embracing the suffering of the cross as I work on my sermon for Good Friday. The next afternoon, I am talking through the joyous movements of the Easter Day service with our organist Bill.
Moving backward and forward in the events of Jesus' last days. One of the movements of Holy Week that stands out to me this year is the movement of Jesus' followers in the lectionary readings from Palm Sunday onward. On Palm Sunday, the disciples gleefully follow Jesus into Jerusalem until it all goes very wrong. Then Peter, who vowed he would never deny Jesus, goes into hiding and the disciples scatter. At the end, the women are left at the foot of the cross. For the women, one moment they are close to Jesus, the next they are parted from him, then at the resurrection reunited. But not for long. It is a dance of exclusion and embrace. (Thanks to theologian Miroslav Volf for this term)
The passage at the beginning of this meditation is the passage which I am preaching on at the Three Hour service at Sharp Street Baptist on Good Friday. In that passage. Mary and Jesus perform the dance of saying goodbye to one another. There is the parting, the exclusion from one another. Then there is the embrace with the disciple whom Jesus loved. I am working with that image for the Good Friday and Easter Day sermons.
I am so blessed that I will be able to preach at Sharp Street Baptist this Good Friday. Sharp Street is the mother church of African- American Baptists. When I preach at these West Baltimore ecumenical churches, I know I have to be on my preaching game in a big way. I always have to be able to know the congregation to which I'll be preaching. When I come to the ecumenical services, I am aware of the exclusion of church communities over race in years past. I am honored by the embrace that I receive by being included as a preacher. In my sermon, I want to embrace the community. It is still a tentative dance with vulnerabilities all around.
Exclusion and Embrace. As we approach Palm Sunday, be thinking about where is your deepest suffering this Holy Week. Such suffering is often rooted around a painful exclusion or parting. Bring it to the foot of the cross, to the Passion Gospel. Where is your most joyful embrace? Give thanks for it and bring it to the garden of the resurrection on Easter Day.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Wednesday after Lent V--April 1, 2009
The world's children
As Jacob journeyed, he came one night to an open place under the stars...And one of the angels stood beside him and said, "Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go. I will never leave you and will bring you back to this land." (Philip Newell translation of Genesis 28-33)
Today I spent a bit of time with Sally and Keenan. Very soon, Sally and Keenan will board a plane to China, travel across the globe, and in a small rural village, meet their new daughter Lucy for the first time. Then, the three of them, a new family now, will get back on the plane and travel across the globe home. What amazing years will be in store for all three of them! As I spoke to them, I remembered how our family was changed and amazed by the arrival of a little boy named Max.
After several years of trying to have a baby, our friends Mary Lou and Bob decided to adopt. Their son Max arrived from South Korea not long after our own son Jack was born. As it turns out, Jack and Max were born three days apart. From the first day that Max arrived at Washington National Airport until we left for Richmond after seminary, Jack and Max were a twosome. Max would carefully build bridges and buildings with his blocks; Jack would knock them down. I have a picture of the two of them sitting side by side in a chair--each with lime green popsicle juice all over their clothes, hands, and faces. Although we haven't seen Max for a few years now, he will always be a part of our lives and Jack's. In fact, I have often wondered if Jack's passion about Asian culture may have to do in part with spending so many early years with Max.
It's hard to believe that just a generation or two ago, adoption was not something folks spoke about very much. It had a slight dishonor to it. And cross-cultural adoptions? Folks would politely say that they were very "unusual." Today, I hope that any stigma to adoption is gone. It is a blessing to care for a young life---and a special blessing to care for a life that comes to you from another part of the world. For the incarnation works this way--when we are asked to care and love a young life, we realize very quickly that a human being is a human being is a human being. Love doesn't need translators or cultural interpreters. Please send up a prayer for Sally, Keenan and Lucy. And for all the children in the world who need someone to love and care for them.
As Jacob journeyed, he came one night to an open place under the stars...And one of the angels stood beside him and said, "Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go. I will never leave you and will bring you back to this land." (Philip Newell translation of Genesis 28-33)
Today I spent a bit of time with Sally and Keenan. Very soon, Sally and Keenan will board a plane to China, travel across the globe, and in a small rural village, meet their new daughter Lucy for the first time. Then, the three of them, a new family now, will get back on the plane and travel across the globe home. What amazing years will be in store for all three of them! As I spoke to them, I remembered how our family was changed and amazed by the arrival of a little boy named Max.
After several years of trying to have a baby, our friends Mary Lou and Bob decided to adopt. Their son Max arrived from South Korea not long after our own son Jack was born. As it turns out, Jack and Max were born three days apart. From the first day that Max arrived at Washington National Airport until we left for Richmond after seminary, Jack and Max were a twosome. Max would carefully build bridges and buildings with his blocks; Jack would knock them down. I have a picture of the two of them sitting side by side in a chair--each with lime green popsicle juice all over their clothes, hands, and faces. Although we haven't seen Max for a few years now, he will always be a part of our lives and Jack's. In fact, I have often wondered if Jack's passion about Asian culture may have to do in part with spending so many early years with Max.
It's hard to believe that just a generation or two ago, adoption was not something folks spoke about very much. It had a slight dishonor to it. And cross-cultural adoptions? Folks would politely say that they were very "unusual." Today, I hope that any stigma to adoption is gone. It is a blessing to care for a young life---and a special blessing to care for a life that comes to you from another part of the world. For the incarnation works this way--when we are asked to care and love a young life, we realize very quickly that a human being is a human being is a human being. Love doesn't need translators or cultural interpreters. Please send up a prayer for Sally, Keenan and Lucy. And for all the children in the world who need someone to love and care for them.
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