Monday, March 28, 2011
Keep Standing
Is the Lord among us or not? Exodus 17:7 When I was a little girl, my parents taught me many lessons around being aware of the blessings in my life and being thankful for them. As Depression-era children, both my parents were careful to conserve all good gifts----including those very precious gifts such as water, food, electricity and shelter. In particular, I can hear them saying: "Please don't leave the water running!"---no matter if that water were from the garden hose, the bathtub, or the kitchen sink. In Japan, water is a mixed blessing. Water can be the destructive force as well as the very essence of life. When the radiation from the damaged nuclear power plants began to affect Toyko's water supply, it all became more real. What would it be if we did not have easy, indeed bounteous, access to water? How would we live differently? Would our sense of thankfulness change? Would we feel like giving up? Would we work together or grow further apart? The Japanese, for the most part, have banded together. Our past Sunday lectionary illustrated the repeated inability of the Israelites to band together and be positive in their wilderness wanderings. When we feel that God might be absent, we humans often move further apart. Back in Japan, where the Japanese peoples' legendary endurance is in full display, a curious thing happens every night in shelters in northeastern Japan. When everything has quieted down and most are sleeping on their mats, lone figures gather at the space heaters interspersed throughout the shelter. Yukiko Yamaguchi, 73 uears old, lost her home in the tsunami. She is one of those who can't sleep and so search out warmth and surely companionship in the middle of the night. Somehow, through this early hour gathering, she feels she can stand one more day. (See Cover story in the New York Times, Saturday, March 26, 2011) Perhaps this is what drew the Samaritan woman to the well----not in the middle of the night---but in the middle of the day. A thirst for water, but perhaps a longing for something more. A longing to know if there was a God in her life of ruined relationships. Perhaps she woke up that morning--like so many days---wanting to give up. But something inside her made her get out of bed and try once more. And so she comes to the well in the heat of the day, hoping for her thirst to be quenched but also her soul to be soothed. And that day there was a man at the well, a Jewish man, a man called Jesus. He asks her for a drink---she responds. And a whole world of God's healing opens up for her in that moment. Because that day she chose to keep going. In an effort to still stand strong against the storms of life, she gained much, much more. As Jospeph Marshall says in his book "Keep Going: The Art of Perservering," : Standing up to the storm, no matter how many times it blows us down, should teach us that we don't need to be as powerful as the storm to defy it. We only need to be strong enought to stand." Some days we stand and we make it through another day. Some days we stand and we meet Jesus. And the world opens up larger and more joyous than we could ever have imagined. And we know the Lord is among us.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Earthquake, Fire and Flood
From lightning and tempest; from earthquake, fire, and flood; from plague, pestilence, and famine,
Good Lord, deliver us.
From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared,
Good Lord, deliver us.
The Great Litany, The Book of Common Prayer, p. 149
In 467 c.e., when the city of Vienne was terrorized by earthquakes, Marmetus, the bishop, inaugurated processional litanies on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before Ascension Day. Ever since, litanies have been used in the church to pray in times of disaster. The original meaning of "litany" in Greek was "prayer" or "supplication," but a modern litany has generally consisted of short biddings and petitions by a cantor or leader followed by a short response by the people. The Great Litany in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer was first published in English in 1544 as a special supplication when Henry VIII was at war with Scotland and France. (For more information on The Great Litany (and the Prayer Book in general), see Marion Hatchett's Commentary on the American Prayer Book)
In the Episcopal Church, the Great Litany is generally sung or said at the beginning of one or more Sunday services in Lent. This was my first introduction to the Great Litany. However, as I preached on Sunday, since September 11, 2001, the Great Litany is now forever a part of my prayer life when trials seemingly too great to endure present themselves in my daily life. On that horrific morning of September 11, when I had watched on a gym television the second tower hit and then the Pentegon, when I had rushed to pick up my children at school and then come home to watch the twin towers crumble to the ground, all I knew to do was go to church and pray. And the only prayer that seemed to make any sense was The Great Litany.
Now, this year, it seems that the Great Litany is timely once again. Wars for liberation, wars for oil, wars against terrorism rage around the world. Earthquakes have battered now only Haiti but now Christ Church, New Zealand and Northern Japan--a country that has been devastated by not only conitnued earthquakes but a tsunami. As I read about the recovery effort in Japan and the new fear of radiation in the tap water in Tokyo this morning, I wonder who might be in the need of the Great Litany prayers. There are folks still looking for loved ones. Walls have gone up---just like at Ground Zero---at various locations to post notes asking loved ones to get in touch. Hope continues even in the face of people missing for days on end.
In the midst of the overwhelming destruction and death in Japan, in the midst of violent war in Libya and Afghanistan, how does one find hope? When one own's world is rocked by a unexpected death or illness or change, how do we go on?
For me, a simple prayer can reset my spiritual compass for a few hours or for a day. In the spring, the sight of crocuses or daffodils or a flowering tree can do the same. In Northern Japan, I wonder what flowers are blooming (cherry blossoms?)even amidst the destruction that can bring a moment of hope. In Libya, will a cool rain one night give a person that will to rise the next day and face a world at war? Can a kind word to a stranger do the same?
In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of death.....and in the moments of grace and hope.....Good Lord, deliver us.
Good Lord, deliver us.
From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared,
Good Lord, deliver us.
The Great Litany, The Book of Common Prayer, p. 149
In 467 c.e., when the city of Vienne was terrorized by earthquakes, Marmetus, the bishop, inaugurated processional litanies on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before Ascension Day. Ever since, litanies have been used in the church to pray in times of disaster. The original meaning of "litany" in Greek was "prayer" or "supplication," but a modern litany has generally consisted of short biddings and petitions by a cantor or leader followed by a short response by the people. The Great Litany in the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer was first published in English in 1544 as a special supplication when Henry VIII was at war with Scotland and France. (For more information on The Great Litany (and the Prayer Book in general), see Marion Hatchett's Commentary on the American Prayer Book)
In the Episcopal Church, the Great Litany is generally sung or said at the beginning of one or more Sunday services in Lent. This was my first introduction to the Great Litany. However, as I preached on Sunday, since September 11, 2001, the Great Litany is now forever a part of my prayer life when trials seemingly too great to endure present themselves in my daily life. On that horrific morning of September 11, when I had watched on a gym television the second tower hit and then the Pentegon, when I had rushed to pick up my children at school and then come home to watch the twin towers crumble to the ground, all I knew to do was go to church and pray. And the only prayer that seemed to make any sense was The Great Litany.
Now, this year, it seems that the Great Litany is timely once again. Wars for liberation, wars for oil, wars against terrorism rage around the world. Earthquakes have battered now only Haiti but now Christ Church, New Zealand and Northern Japan--a country that has been devastated by not only conitnued earthquakes but a tsunami. As I read about the recovery effort in Japan and the new fear of radiation in the tap water in Tokyo this morning, I wonder who might be in the need of the Great Litany prayers. There are folks still looking for loved ones. Walls have gone up---just like at Ground Zero---at various locations to post notes asking loved ones to get in touch. Hope continues even in the face of people missing for days on end.
In the midst of the overwhelming destruction and death in Japan, in the midst of violent war in Libya and Afghanistan, how does one find hope? When one own's world is rocked by a unexpected death or illness or change, how do we go on?
For me, a simple prayer can reset my spiritual compass for a few hours or for a day. In the spring, the sight of crocuses or daffodils or a flowering tree can do the same. In Northern Japan, I wonder what flowers are blooming (cherry blossoms?)even amidst the destruction that can bring a moment of hope. In Libya, will a cool rain one night give a person that will to rise the next day and face a world at war? Can a kind word to a stranger do the same?
In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of death.....and in the moments of grace and hope.....Good Lord, deliver us.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Jesus and Nicodemus
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night. John 3:1-2
Not wanting to be seen fraternizing with Jesus in the light of day, Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night---in person---to have a discussion about being born again and about having faith. On Sunday morning at the 8 am Eucharist in the Round, we had a discussion about how we talk about our faith. We started at 8 am and had to stop at 9 am. We could have gone on much longer. Speaking on matters of faith necessitates speaking to one another in person. While we can write and ponder on blogs and in books, real faith conversation needs a community and a conversation.
I continue to ruminate on how we have these important discussions of faith when we all lead lives of such speed and busyness that we often only communicate with a text message or a quick e-mail. Voice mails are now becoming obsolete. My college-age children never really listen to my voice mails left on their cell phones. They see I have called and just call me back. They do respond to text messages.
The home phone is even more obsolete. Many folks don't install a landline anymore. We have just moved to a house on the Gilman campus. We did have a landline installed and were able to keep our same number. I have been asking Bryan over and over: "Are you sure the phone works?" No one has called. Not even sales calls. It seems so strange.
In my favorite section of the Sunday New York Times--Sunday Business--yesterday's Corner Office feature interviews Irwin D. Simons, who is CEO of Hain Celestial Group, maker of natural and organic foods and personal care product.s He says: "I'm big into communicating face-to-face, eye-to-eye and not through e-mail. Part of what's happened today is we lose a sense of communication because everything is done electronically." The interviewer then asked Simons this question:"People may say that sounds great, but there's just no time to do it face-to-face." Simons replies: "It comes back to, what are your priorities? Am I doing that for everybody ine very place? No. But I live by this philosophy: I juggle 13 balls, and there are certain balls I never drop."
One of the balls that I never want to drop as a pastor, as a rector, and, most of all, as a person of faith is the ball which places in-person communication as a priority in conversations around faith, around pastoral care and around community. I wonder how Jesus would be communicating these days. Would Nicodemus have sent a late night e-mail or text today? How would that make the conversation different?
Not wanting to be seen fraternizing with Jesus in the light of day, Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night---in person---to have a discussion about being born again and about having faith. On Sunday morning at the 8 am Eucharist in the Round, we had a discussion about how we talk about our faith. We started at 8 am and had to stop at 9 am. We could have gone on much longer. Speaking on matters of faith necessitates speaking to one another in person. While we can write and ponder on blogs and in books, real faith conversation needs a community and a conversation.
I continue to ruminate on how we have these important discussions of faith when we all lead lives of such speed and busyness that we often only communicate with a text message or a quick e-mail. Voice mails are now becoming obsolete. My college-age children never really listen to my voice mails left on their cell phones. They see I have called and just call me back. They do respond to text messages.
The home phone is even more obsolete. Many folks don't install a landline anymore. We have just moved to a house on the Gilman campus. We did have a landline installed and were able to keep our same number. I have been asking Bryan over and over: "Are you sure the phone works?" No one has called. Not even sales calls. It seems so strange.
In my favorite section of the Sunday New York Times--Sunday Business--yesterday's Corner Office feature interviews Irwin D. Simons, who is CEO of Hain Celestial Group, maker of natural and organic foods and personal care product.s He says: "I'm big into communicating face-to-face, eye-to-eye and not through e-mail. Part of what's happened today is we lose a sense of communication because everything is done electronically." The interviewer then asked Simons this question:"People may say that sounds great, but there's just no time to do it face-to-face." Simons replies: "It comes back to, what are your priorities? Am I doing that for everybody ine very place? No. But I live by this philosophy: I juggle 13 balls, and there are certain balls I never drop."
One of the balls that I never want to drop as a pastor, as a rector, and, most of all, as a person of faith is the ball which places in-person communication as a priority in conversations around faith, around pastoral care and around community. I wonder how Jesus would be communicating these days. Would Nicodemus have sent a late night e-mail or text today? How would that make the conversation different?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
A holy Space for God (with text!)
The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!" His disciples remembered that it was written, "Zeal for your house will consume me." John 2:13-17
On Tuesday evening, we gathered in the Memorial chapel to say Evening Prayer before our Lenten supper and program. The topic for the evening was how we worship in our Memorial space. The lectionary apppointed for the daily office was the Gospel passage above---Jesus cleaning the temple. It is amazing how the daily and Sunday lectionary can so clearly speak to our daily lives. It was as if god had handpicked the passage for Tuesday night!
Worship is the heart of who we are as Episcopalians. Our Book of Common Prayers centers our worship in the Eucharist each Sunday and in the daily office during the week. Some of us take in another Eucharist mid-week. The space that we use to worship is critical to our worship experience. Liturgical theologican William Seth Adams in his book Moving The Furniture talks about four characteristics of good worship space: (1) Worship Space as comfort, safety and security. A sense that our worship space brings us home to God. I felt this so vividly on the day of Setpember 11, 2001, when we gathered in the chapel to say the Great Litany at Noonday and for Eucharist that evening. (2) Worship space as the ground of our identity as God's people. We find what it is to follow Jesus as Lord in our worship space. (3) Worship Space as a place for movement of bodies in praise and prayer. The worship space should allow us to stand and sing in praise, to kneel in prayer and to walk to the altar rail to receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, (4) The worship space should give us some tangible sense of the Kingdom of God that is being built right before our very eyes. On Tuesday night, we pondered how the Memorial worship space brought us close to God and one another through these four lenses.
We also talked about what ONE ELEMENT was crucial to our experience of worship at Memorial. The majority of us gathered said the altar. Not the historic stone altar, but the wooden free-standing altar. This was a central focus for most of us. If it was moved out of place, we felt as if our very security and comfort was missing. What does this mean for all the ministries that take place in our worship space that do not involve the altar? What does it mean to move the central focus of worship, even if we put it back for Sunday worship? Our conversation continues. What is the most important element of oru worship space for you?
On Tuesday evening, we gathered in the Memorial chapel to say Evening Prayer before our Lenten supper and program. The topic for the evening was how we worship in our Memorial space. The lectionary apppointed for the daily office was the Gospel passage above---Jesus cleaning the temple. It is amazing how the daily and Sunday lectionary can so clearly speak to our daily lives. It was as if god had handpicked the passage for Tuesday night!
Worship is the heart of who we are as Episcopalians. Our Book of Common Prayers centers our worship in the Eucharist each Sunday and in the daily office during the week. Some of us take in another Eucharist mid-week. The space that we use to worship is critical to our worship experience. Liturgical theologican William Seth Adams in his book Moving The Furniture talks about four characteristics of good worship space: (1) Worship Space as comfort, safety and security. A sense that our worship space brings us home to God. I felt this so vividly on the day of Setpember 11, 2001, when we gathered in the chapel to say the Great Litany at Noonday and for Eucharist that evening. (2) Worship space as the ground of our identity as God's people. We find what it is to follow Jesus as Lord in our worship space. (3) Worship Space as a place for movement of bodies in praise and prayer. The worship space should allow us to stand and sing in praise, to kneel in prayer and to walk to the altar rail to receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, (4) The worship space should give us some tangible sense of the Kingdom of God that is being built right before our very eyes. On Tuesday night, we pondered how the Memorial worship space brought us close to God and one another through these four lenses.
We also talked about what ONE ELEMENT was crucial to our experience of worship at Memorial. The majority of us gathered said the altar. Not the historic stone altar, but the wooden free-standing altar. This was a central focus for most of us. If it was moved out of place, we felt as if our very security and comfort was missing. What does this mean for all the ministries that take place in our worship space that do not involve the altar? What does it mean to move the central focus of worship, even if we put it back for Sunday worship? Our conversation continues. What is the most important element of oru worship space for you?
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Wedding at Cana
When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him. John 3:9-11
Jesus was thirty years old when he began his public ministry. His public ministry began in the temple and at the River Jordan, at the Sea of Galilee and at the wedding at Cana. What was Jesus like before his gifts became public? Was he a carpenter's apprentice to his father Joseph? Many folks come to be serious about their ministries in Christ around age 30. Many of us (me included) spend the first decade of adulthood wandering from thing to thing---some of us following our parents' vocations or anything but. Like a good wine, sometimes it takes a while for our gifts to mature. But sometimes we sit on our real gifts....not ever quite ready for them to see the light of day.
Yesterday morning at our Rite 13 Sunday School, we talked about our gifts and talents, using the parable of the talents as a jumping off point. We talked about how the person who had 10 talents went out and doubled his talents. The person with one talent was afraid to lose his talent and so, rather than go out into the world and risk doubling or losing his one talent, he buried the talent in the ground. Mentor Kris asked our Rite 13ers: How many talents do you all think you have? Everyone said 10! Everyone said: "We have lots of gifts and talents!" And then we proceeded to share all our talents and gifts. As I struggled with what truly were my own gifts and talents, I wondered: What happens to us as human beings as we grow older? Does the world knock us about so that we no longer want to put forward our talents and gifts? Why do we become afraid?
What would it take for us to let our gifts see the public life of day? Lent might be about wondering what prevents us for using our unique, God-given talents and so prevents the Kingdom of God from growing more fully. Is it an old tape of shame? A place where we were brought down to earth in an unkind way? Is it the fear of losing face?
Jesus took a risk changing the rule of serving good wine first as well as changing water to wine. He began his ministry in a public place---and the first to recognize his gift that day were the servants. But perhaps someone else knew his gifts even before the wedding at Cana. Mary, his mother, knew that he could do something about the situation...she knew he was gifted in ways that no one suspected. Perhaps the people that love us best can help us see what gifts we have buried in the field
Friday, March 11, 2011
The Golden Calf
When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from teh mountain, the people gathered around Aaron, and said to him, "Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him. Exodus: 20:1
In our Education for Ministry classes, we have been immersed in the Book of Exodus. Recently, we spent time discussing the story of the Golden Calf. Moses was doing the Lord's work up on the mountain, in conversation with the Lord. He took a little longer than usual to return down the mountain to the Israelites. What do the people do? They get tired of waiting. Tired of not having Moses with them to lead them. Maybe they were bored in the wilderness. Most likely, they were scared. But whatever the reason....when human beings get bored or scared, what do they do? They make mischief for themselves or others. They created golden calves of their own choosing.
We all create golden calves in our lives. When we become disillusioned with our jobs, our relationships, our church communities, we begin to grumble. We wonder: "Is that all there is?" And after we grumble, we look for the golden calf. It could be a new job, a more exciting partner, a new leader or a new community. Just like the Israelites and Moses, we displace the blame for our own fearful behavior onto another person or situation. And when we do this, we turn away from the dignity that is the glory of human nature. We begin to act like the Israelites in the wilderness. The scene plays out like when a parent comes upon reveling teenagers who are doing what they know they shouldn't be doing. Lent is a time to catch ourselves in these behaviors. It's time to turn from false gods of our own creation and choosing and turn back to God with our all hearts. To find our human dignity as God's people once again.
In the story of the Golden Calf, God is infuriated at the Israelites, burning their gold into a calf that they dance around and worship. His anger burns hot. Moses intercedes for the people, imploring God to turn from his fierce wrath, change God's mind and avert disaster. God listens.
And whether we believe that God is a God of anger and wrath or not, I believe that God does listen. God knows our weaknesses (in language of the past..."our wretchedness") Lent is a gift to us to call us home once again...for the hundreth or thousandth time. What might be that golden calf that you dance around?
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent. Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness (weaknesses), may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Collect for Ash Wednesday, Book of Common Prayer, p. 325
In our Education for Ministry classes, we have been immersed in the Book of Exodus. Recently, we spent time discussing the story of the Golden Calf. Moses was doing the Lord's work up on the mountain, in conversation with the Lord. He took a little longer than usual to return down the mountain to the Israelites. What do the people do? They get tired of waiting. Tired of not having Moses with them to lead them. Maybe they were bored in the wilderness. Most likely, they were scared. But whatever the reason....when human beings get bored or scared, what do they do? They make mischief for themselves or others. They created golden calves of their own choosing.
We all create golden calves in our lives. When we become disillusioned with our jobs, our relationships, our church communities, we begin to grumble. We wonder: "Is that all there is?" And after we grumble, we look for the golden calf. It could be a new job, a more exciting partner, a new leader or a new community. Just like the Israelites and Moses, we displace the blame for our own fearful behavior onto another person or situation. And when we do this, we turn away from the dignity that is the glory of human nature. We begin to act like the Israelites in the wilderness. The scene plays out like when a parent comes upon reveling teenagers who are doing what they know they shouldn't be doing. Lent is a time to catch ourselves in these behaviors. It's time to turn from false gods of our own creation and choosing and turn back to God with our all hearts. To find our human dignity as God's people once again.
In the story of the Golden Calf, God is infuriated at the Israelites, burning their gold into a calf that they dance around and worship. His anger burns hot. Moses intercedes for the people, imploring God to turn from his fierce wrath, change God's mind and avert disaster. God listens.
And whether we believe that God is a God of anger and wrath or not, I believe that God does listen. God knows our weaknesses (in language of the past..."our wretchedness") Lent is a gift to us to call us home once again...for the hundreth or thousandth time. What might be that golden calf that you dance around?
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent. Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness (weaknesses), may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Collect for Ash Wednesday, Book of Common Prayer, p. 325
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Ash Wednesday 2011--Finding Dignity in Lent
Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend youor hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. Joel 2: 12-13
I always breathe a sigh of relief when Ash Wednesday comes around once again. In the midst of a long winter, Ash Wednesday signals the start of a turning towards new life and birth. Although the time-honored phrase "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return" is a stark, haunting reminder of our mortality, Ash Wednesday begins the acknowledgement that even in the midst of death, we are called to live.
I have just returned from a conference with Episcopal clergy from around the country. Our main topic for the week was Dignity and Reconciliation. In our discussions of the word "dignity," we realized that the word is often used to define a good death. We want for our loved ones and ourselves to die in dignity. At the time of death and at the funeral, we expect our loved one's body and life to be treated with honor and respect....dignity. That is what the hospice movement is all about. However, it is also important to live with dignity. That is a bit harder to understand how to do.
The Litany of Penitence in the Book of Common Prayer (pp. 267-269) appointed for Ash Wednesday gives us a good idea where to start. The first petition is this:
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
I would add one phrase to the petition. We have not loved our very selves with the love of the Creator.
Dignity starts with loving God and then loving ourselves as a child of God. For if we cannot honor ourselves as worthy of God's love, it is near impossible to truly love and respect the dignity of every other human being in our world.
Today. Ash Wednesday, we remember we are but dust. We also remember that while we live, we are a precious child of God, entitled to dignity and honor.
So to Psalm 51 and 103, let's add a verse from Psalm 139 this Ash Wednesday: While I live, I will thank you for I am marvelously made. Psalm 139: 13
This Ash Wednesay, thanks be to God that today, in the midst of death, we live. Let us live with dignity, honoring our lives and the lives of those around us. Amen.
I always breathe a sigh of relief when Ash Wednesday comes around once again. In the midst of a long winter, Ash Wednesday signals the start of a turning towards new life and birth. Although the time-honored phrase "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return" is a stark, haunting reminder of our mortality, Ash Wednesday begins the acknowledgement that even in the midst of death, we are called to live.
I have just returned from a conference with Episcopal clergy from around the country. Our main topic for the week was Dignity and Reconciliation. In our discussions of the word "dignity," we realized that the word is often used to define a good death. We want for our loved ones and ourselves to die in dignity. At the time of death and at the funeral, we expect our loved one's body and life to be treated with honor and respect....dignity. That is what the hospice movement is all about. However, it is also important to live with dignity. That is a bit harder to understand how to do.
The Litany of Penitence in the Book of Common Prayer (pp. 267-269) appointed for Ash Wednesday gives us a good idea where to start. The first petition is this:
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
I would add one phrase to the petition. We have not loved our very selves with the love of the Creator.
Dignity starts with loving God and then loving ourselves as a child of God. For if we cannot honor ourselves as worthy of God's love, it is near impossible to truly love and respect the dignity of every other human being in our world.
Today. Ash Wednesday, we remember we are but dust. We also remember that while we live, we are a precious child of God, entitled to dignity and honor.
So to Psalm 51 and 103, let's add a verse from Psalm 139 this Ash Wednesday: While I live, I will thank you for I am marvelously made. Psalm 139: 13
This Ash Wednesay, thanks be to God that today, in the midst of death, we live. Let us live with dignity, honoring our lives and the lives of those around us. Amen.
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