Mother Martha's Meditations

Please sir, I want some more.

2012-01-30T06:57:00.001-08:00

Please sir, I want some more. That's the famous line from the musical Oliver! We'll hear it six times over the next two weekends as Memorial Players opens the 2012 Memorial musical. The musical Oliver! speaks to social issues that have beset humankind from the very beginning---poverty, hunger, domestic abuse, exploitation of the poor. When Oliver delivers the famous line asking for just a bit more gruel for his dinner, we see urban orphans exploited by adult greed. We see scarcity of nurture and love as well as a scarcity of food. Jesus' ministry was all about uncovering this underbelly of humanity that we'd rather not see, asking us to feed the hungry and clothe those in need. However, Jesus also saw beyond the very real material needs to another vital need of humanity, the need for a stabile, loving community. This is also what the musical Oliver illustrates---that however broken our families and communities are, we need them. Sometimes we settle for the brokenness of a relationship as opposed to our own health and well-being. The gospel of Jesus challenges us to bring change to the dis-health within ourselves, our relationship, our families and our communities and to commit to health and new life together.

But there is another side to the line Please sir, I want some more. For so many of us who are blessed with so much in our lives, this line digs into the American drivenness to acquiring possessions in the quest to find stabile, loving community. As Jesus tells us again and again, that will not work. In fact, he often asks us to give up our possessions in order to find new life. As we approach the Lenten season again, the Oliver tagline challenges us to remember that there is a fine line between caring for ones self and one's family and community and acquiring for self, family and community at the exclusion and to the detriment of others.

The question for all of us is: Where are we in need--truly in need--and where do we need to stop acquiring and give of self to others? How can we simplify our material possessions and agendas? How can make we space for God, find God in one another and build a stabile, loving community? Maybe spending an evening and afternoon at the theatre may spark some inner epiphanies.

Please make plans to come to Oliver! Performances are Friday and Saturday evenings at 7:30 pm on Feb 3, 4, 10, and 11 and Sunday, February 5 and 12 at 3:00 pm. Please bring canned and dry goods to support the Samaritan Community as part of your free-will offering to the ministry of the Memorial musical.

Nothing is impossible with God

2011-12-19T09:20:00.000-08:00

Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said unto him, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard." Luke 1: 11-13

Yesterday our diocesan intern, Sanford Groff, preached a barnburner of a sermon about answering the call of God's angel. Sanford talked about how terrifying the angel Gabriel must have been to Mary and then proceeded to recount the terrifying calls of Zechariah (see above), Mary and the people of God. I never really thought of how the angel Gabriel might be terrifying to behold. Then yesterday our offertory hymn was Hymn 265 (Hymnal 1982) and I found myself singing these words: "The angel Gabriel from heaven came, his wings as drifted snow, his eyes of flame." Wings as drifted snow sounds like a peaceful and kindly angelic presence. Eyes of flame is a bit more disturbing. But it makes some sense since a call from God in our lives--a seemingly impossible call from God--contains both the calming peace of God AND the stirring flame of God's Holy Spirit. Paradoxically, a call from God is unsettling and deeply serene all at the same time.

Sanford went on to preach about how we turn aside from God's impossible calls in our lives. The impossible calls that come when we are just minding our own business in our everyday, ordinary lives. Since yesterday, I've been thinking about the seemingly impossible calls in my own life---calls that we all answer and calls that are particularly our own. Learning to walk is a call that virtually all of us master as a toddler...but think about it, isn't it a miraculous thing to learn to walk as an infant? Although I can't remember the urge to walk, might it not seem impossible at first? Leaving home for a full day of school is a seemingly impossible call for a 6-year old. Learning to read. Learning to write. Learning to cross a street and to drive a car. The miraculous calls just keep coming as we move into adulthood. Getting married. Having a baby. Buying a house. Doesn't it seem impossible at some early point in every call? As young children and young adults, we see possibility everywhere. When an angelic presence in our hearts and spirit calls to us to a new possibility, we may be a bit afraid, but we often give it a try.

But as we age, we often learn to turn aside from those angelic summonses. We turn aside from the snow-white wings and especially the fiery, penetrating eyes. We start to look for disappointment and failure instead of hope and possibility. Maybe the hard-knocks of life do this. Maybe we grow tired of disappointment. Whatever the reason, we learn to live into fear. We make a habit of avoiding any new idea. Somewhere along the line, we give up on those angels. We give up on believing that God has a plan for each of us. A plan that involves building God's Kingdom with God's everlasting love. We settle for the Kingdom of this world. We just try to hang on another day.

Yesterday Sanford reminded us that we not only do this with our lives, but in the lives of our beloved communities. He challenged Memorial to remain that dramatically and radically prophetic community that Memorial has been for decades. And Sanford challenged us, in these unsettling economic times, not to settle for just staying open, but to live into a vision where Memorial opens its doors in new and dramatic ways. It's a conversation worth continuing into Christmastide and the Epiphany season. It involves enfolding each other in those snowy angel wings of God's love and stirring our souls with those fiery eyes of the Spirit. That can be frightening if we tried to do it alone, but together, new calls are born.

This Christmastide, where might God be calling you to cast off fear and say YES in your life and in your community of faith. Remember NOTHING is impossible with God.

Patience before the Feast

2011-12-13T13:25:00.000-08:00

They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again. Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. Jeremiah 31:12-13

Erv+ preached on Sunday about patience. About this time of year, as the cultural Christmas season is in full swing, we all become a bit weary of all the insistent over-preparation....have we bought our beloved a new luxury car yet?.....and are ready for the Christmas feasting to begin...and then a good nap to be had. Some of us just want the whole crazy celebration to be over, stop the traveling and enjoy those quiet days between Christmas Day and New Year's at home. Perhaps to settle by the fire with a good book for the quieter souls among us; to dance and sing and relax together for those who like a bit more activity without all the Christmas fuss.

There is a story told by Thomas Merton about an elderly monk at the Monastery at Gethsemane, Kentucky where Merton spent many years of his professed life. This elderly monk loved to garden above all else. He liked nothing better than to putter around the garden all day in all kinds of weather---digging a hole there, pulling weeds, organzing his tools in the shed on rainy days. For a long time, the abbot of the monastery decided that this love of gardening needed some pruning in the life of this elderly monk....and he forbade him from gardening---just on monastic (and maybe puritan) principle. Finally the abbot died and the new abbot decided that this elderly monk was not going to do anything EXCEPT GARDEN. So, as Merton tells it, the monk "just gardened from morning to night. He never came to Office, never came to anything, he just dug in his garden. He put his whole life into this." (Advent and Christmas with Thomas Merton, p.29) When I read about this Gardener of Gethsemane, I rejoiced with him in his gardening life at long last, but I also wondered how he had the patience to wait out the old abbot's non-gardening decree and trust that God would see fit to have him garden once more. And I also wondered: did he ever tire of continual gardening in the days to come?

Sometimes we all just want to do what WE want to do. One of my favorite parts of Christmastide is arriving at Christmas Day afternoon when I get in my pajamas, sit on the coach and watch "It's A Wonderful Life." I don't move for hours. After the movie, I read and read and read. Nap. Watch a football game. Eat a bit. Then go to sleep (and no need to change clothes!)It is great! But I have also learned to love to wait for that moment and to delight in all (well, maybe most) of the activities that come before that. I love the Christmas eve services. I love preparing my sermon for the late service and the pastoral visiting of the week leading up to Christmas. I love that moment when I come home from Christmas Eve, prepare the Christmas stockings and watch the Pope celebrate Mass in Rome. And I even enjoy the trip to the MALL for that last minute gift that we always end up needing.

I don't think I would love these few days of Christmas at home if I didn't have the patience to wait for those days and do the work I'm called to do. If I weren't present for the days of Advent, would Christmas be a real celebration or just another tiring-thing-to-do-and-put-behind-us? And I wonder, did the elderly monk one day just get a little tired of gardening and long to be in the kitchen peeling potatoes with a few of his brother monks or in the sacristy preparing for Eucharist?

Like the Gardener of Gethsemane's abbot, I believe we all need some structure to keep us from revving up the celebration engines too high, too soon. We need the season of Advent, just as humans need the practice of Sabbath. In order to enjoy the things we love, we need the patience to wait and watch and prepare. We need to take a break from gardening, in order to love the garden. We need to take a break from the feast in order to love the feast.

So take a break from the cultural Christmas frenzy---and try not to celebrate too much, too soon. Enjoy the quiet days of waiting for the celebration. Then rejoice and sing as you are called---including wearing your pajamas all day if you like!

Join us at Memorial Church as we green the church this coming Sunday after the 10:30 service. A way to slowly begin to see the Feast of the Incarnation take shape.

Holy Anticipation

2011-12-06T13:11:00.000-08:00

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah: "See, I am sending a messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.'" Mark 1:1-3

So begins the Gospel of Mark. No nativity narratives. No prologue about the Word made flesh that comes to dwell among us. The Gospel of Mark, which is our Gospel for most of this lectionary Year B, is short and sweet. Just the facts. In our New Testament class, we are using Mark Allan Powell's textbook on the New Testament. Dr. Powell suggests reading the first chapters of each Gospel as a kind of overture. In a musical, the overture gives you a little bit of each of the main songs and musical themes. So what might be Mark's Gospel trying to tell us in the first chapter? There is no nativity story. The good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, begins with the words of the prophet Isaiah talking about a holy messenger. Then John the Baptizer appears out of the wilderness and baptizes Jesus. Jesus is immediately driven into the wilderness to be temped by Satan and then he is off and running in his Galilean ministry---with almost nary a breath. Healing the sick, driving out demons, calling disciples, praying in a deserted place, then off again to heal and teach. In Mark, Jesus has very little of what we call "down time." What kind of model might that be for us in our ministry? However, the first chapter of Mark does begin with the words of the prophet Isaiah which speak of preparation and beginning.

Advent is the time of the church year that we set aside to prepare for the birth of Christ once more in our lives. It is a time of preparing, of anticipating. An overture does much the same thing. At the theatre, when the lights go down and we settle in our seats, the excitement truly builds with the orchestra's first notes of the overture. As we listen to the orchestra, if we know the show, we start to live into the story all over again---the tragedy, the humor, the redemption. But there is that moment before the music starts---when the theatre is quiet and still. A time of great anticipation.

That is what the season of Advent should bring forth in our souls. Anticipation. A kind of holy anticipation. Waiting for the birth of something new in our lives---in Advent, we may get just a hint of the tune of the new adventure ahead, but if we quiet ourselves, we can begin to see a path being prepared. A path which is straight and true and allows us to fully live into a new life in Christ.

In this year's issue of Weavings, a poem was on the back cover which struck me. The poem describes Holy Anticipation as "that breathtaking space inbetween what has been, what is, and what is to come." In the holy anticipation of Advent, we are called to settle into our seats before the show and listen for the first notes of the new life to come.

What notes of a new tune are you hearing in your life in the overture of Advent? The tune may not be complete---but what is coming into your vision and hearing and heart that makes you think a new life in Christ is being born in you this year?

Our Lives are not Our Own

2011-12-01T08:06:00.000-08:00

As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea--for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. Matthew 4:18-20

Yesterday was the Feast Day of St. Andrew. Andrew was one of the first disciples to be called by Jesus. He is mentioned several times in the Gospels and, in three separate incidents, Andrew brings other people to Christ (John 1:41ff; 6:5ff, 12:20ff) In parts of the Anglican communion, St. Andrewstide is often observed as a special time of intercession for the mission of the Church.
Today, December 1, is World AIDS Day and therefore an apporpriate day of prayer in St Andrewstide!

The combination of Advent, St. Andrew's Day and World AIDS Day leads me to ponder what it means to follow Jesus. At our Tuesday morning Peace and Justice Eucharist this week, I was struck by the phrase in the paragraph we read about Andrew from the Anglican Church in Canada. The phrase that has been working on me is this: When Andrew left his net to follow Jesus, his life was no longer his own. No longer his own? This is decidely so deeply counter-cultural for an American individualist to consider. What does it mean to follow Jesus and accept that our life is no longer our own?

Preparing for Emily Cox's funeral tomorrow has underscored for me what it means to live a life not our own. A good funeral preparation will always do this for in preparing to celebrate the life of one of God's good and faithful servants shows what it means to follow Jesus. Emily's ninety years on this earth are testament to what that phrase means. Emily served her country during World War II and was stationed in Paris and other parts of France during her time overseas. Although she lost her husband of five years in the 1950s and never had children of her own, she considered her neice and godson as her children. She gave her life to then, her country, to the city of Baltimore and to her family and friends. She spent a good deal of time at the Waxter Senior Center playing Scrabble. She hosted large Thanksgiving and holiday dinners. And she loved her church. The fountain in our renovated garden is in memory of her husband and it was such a lovely surprise when she made the contribution that enabled that fountain to become a reality. Now, when anyone walks by our garden--a MICA student, a neighbor walking a dog, a child on the way to the pool in the summer-- and sees and hears the fountain, they are blessed with a moment of peace and hope. That was Emily. Here every Sunday and altar guild at most all Memorial Apartment Eucharists. Faithful and true. She knew that her life was not her own--but belonged to the community to show the glory of God.

In reflecting on Emily's life, it is a good and freeing thing to know that one's life is not one's own. That our lives are an intregal part of building the Kingdom of God. That we matter beyond ourselves. That we matter to God.

Join us for a Celebration of Emily Cox's life at 11 am at Memorial Church tomorrow, Friday, December 2. We also gather Friday evening for dinner together in community at 6 pm with a meal cooked with love by Earl Huch and Lois Eldred in Upper Farnham Hall followed by Advent Lessons and Carols by candlelight in the church at 7 pm.

Thanksgiving Rejoicing

2011-11-23T09:57:00.001-08:00

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for that is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Paul's Letter to the Thessalonians 5

The wind is blowing today in Western Maryland. Most Thanksgiving days that I remember were just a bit chilly with a breeze in the air. As a little girl, I would be settled into the back seat of the station wagon as my parents and I drove from Virginia to Maryland--up the George Washington Parkway and over the Cabin John Bridge to Garrett Park, Maryland. Garrett Park was the small town where my grandmother as well as aunt and uncle lived. When I entered the house, the smell of turkey mixed with sauerkraut (a mid-Atlantic Thanksgiving tradition) bowled me over and I was swept into the Spirit of the Macgill-Rucker family atmosphere. It was an atmosphere of rejoicing, of being together. As an only child, I often hid behind my parents for a moment or two when I first walked in the door but soon joined in with my cousins playing Barbies upstairs or hide and seek in the yard.
Now, I make my way out to Western Maryland and we have a family Thanksgiving here. This year there is special excitement since in addition to the traditional feast, we also will have a feast of football with Anna's boyfriend Michael rooting on the Detroit Lions and all of us rooting on the Ravens in the Haubaugh Bowl. As I make my way inside and out preparing for the feast (including welcoming the cable guy for NFL Network), I catch a burst of the wind. I feel like kicking up my heels and rejoicing. We are healthy and happy and together. There will be much eating, much napping, a fierce game or two of Scrabble, a trip to the bowling alley for more competition and more. Such blessings are always to be given abundant thanks....since we have all had Thanksgivings when someone we love is missing for the first time or one of us is struggling with health or other issues and we have trouble rejoicing much at all. It is good to know that there will be a season of joy again.
Moreover, in my life in Christ, I find that the Thanksgiving wind also ushers in the season of Advent. The season of holy anticipation. That pause between what was and what will be. I look forward to anticipating and pausing with you as I blog and write most days.
So, take a pause this Thanksgiving. Rejoice and give thanks. Pray without ceasing. And watch for that wind of the Spirit, blowing around you, reminding you that new things are afoot!

Hakuta Matata--Do Not Worry

2011-10-04T07:18:00.000-07:00

Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, what you will drink, or about your body, what will you wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them….And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? Matthew 6:25-27

On Sunday, our preacher Sanford Groff let loose with a sermon on our wants. Using the context of the Ten Commandments, he talked about coveting. Wanting something someone else had…and, as they say, wanting it real bad. Sanford talked about his long car trip up the interstate where billboard after billboard advertised the lottery---in particular the megamillion lottery. He saw so many signs mile after mile that he began to believe that he, too, wanted to win the lottery. He figured out his odds. He figured out his income for the year after a big payday. I seem to remember that his annual income would be about 4.5 million if he won the megamillion jackpot. One thing he focused on buying was a new flat-screen television.

For those of us who grew up with depression-era parents or grandparents, we know that in humans there exists the condition called “never having enough.” Some of us become hoarders (hence the reality tv show of the same name) due to the worry, the fear, of not having enough for our needs.

At my continuing education conference last week, we began each day as a House in Prayer. We prayed the daily lectionary (in the back of the Book of Common Prayer) in chapel and after breakfast, before our speaker, we had an hour’s worth of small group bible study on the daily lectionary passage. Last Monday’s lectionary was this selection from the Gospel of Matthew. It’s always a good one for meditation, prayer and study anytime, because it speaks to the most common of human conditions that leads to addiction, sin, distance from faith and trust and relationship with God---worry about tomorrow. Worry that there will never be enough to care for our needs.

As I started out my Monday this week with worries aplenty, I tried hard to focus on creation. Maybe the birds of the air would bring me to a place of trust and peace. I didn’t really see any birds on Monday---it was raining again. So, I came into the office and went through my usual routines. I saw my spiritual director. I had lunch with a colleague. And, in the midst of my day, I realized that worry can take on a life of its own. You don’t even know what you are doing as you go through your daily routine—except worrying or complaining inwardly about the shortcomings of your life. One conversation helped me to snap out of the never-ending treadmill of worry. A friend reminded me of my time in South Africa. And I remembered how I went through my days there with a sense of faith in God and creation. The culture around me had so little in some ways and so much in others. Yet it was not a culture that worried. And that faith in the goodness of God and creation just surrounded me as I walked down to church or drove through the back roads of Walkersville. Of course, that very same God and very same creation surround me here. In I remember to listen carefully, I can hear my South African friends whispering in my ear as they were prone to do to me, the worrisome American: “Do not worry. God is good.” Just remembering that life can be other than worry—and remembering being in a culture that celebrated that value, changed my day.

Today the blue sky and sun are back. Worries seem to have left me for today. They will come to me again, I’m sure. But what can worry do but make you forget about the beauty and blessing everywhere in your life? Hakuta Matata---no worries!

The Grace of Coming Home

2011-09-14T08:25:00.001-07:00

A Meditation for Homecoming Sunday:
The Sacrament of Home

When I think of coming home, I think of our dining room table. Whatever age I was growing up, I came home to supper around the family dining room table. This has been true throughout my life---when I came home from grade school, high school or college or when I married or became a mother. When I think of family, I think of the dining room table.

My dining room table is made of cherry wood. It is a large, round table—probably 6 feet in diameter. Since my mother bought the table, I know it is an antique—a Queen Anne dining room table---but beyond that I know little of its past history.

But it’s recent history—say for the past 53 years, I know well.

Eight people can sit around the table. During most of my life, there have been four people. When I was a little girl, there was my mother, my father, my grandmother and me. The table came to my home as an adult and soon there were four around the table once again---my husband, my son, my daughter and me. During certain periods of my life, we have used the table as a sideboard, its leaves down. That’s where it is now---since there are only two people at our table. Empty nesters both.

But back when the table was opened in all its glory, it was a central feature of our home life. As a family, we generally only ate supper at the table---or perhaps a special meal such as Thanksgiving, a birthday celebration or an Easter lunch. Growing up, breakfast and lunch took place at the kitchen table. As a child, I spent a good deal of time under the dining room table—communing with our dog and reading books. But the very best part of the dining table was this—it was the place where we would catch up with each other. At dinner---when I was a child and as an adult---we would review our days around the table. We would recount the good and not so good, our challenges and victories, what made us sad and what made us happy.

So, for me, when I think of homecoming, I imagine a darkened evening, walking up to the house, seeing a warm light in the window. I come in the door, smelling something good from the kitchen (unless it was sauerkraut and liver night). I see the dinner table set---with a place set just for me. A place of inclusion, sustenance and love.

But it is more than just a place set for me on a certain day. That symbol of Homecoming—my dining room table—has multiple layers of meaning. It is the place that I have been fed and nourished since I was a baby. It is also a place that my soul felt nourished by family support night after night for years. It is the place that I remember family members that I see no longer…and as my own children sit around the table in the place of my parents and grandmother, I realize from a place deep inside that at that table, my whole family, living and past, is gathered in some mysterious way. That even though I no longer can call up my father and say, “Guess what happened today?” or ask my mother “What I should wear?” to a special event, when my day is recounted around the table to my present family, they know too. Somehow they know. All my dearly beloved know my children and in time, perhaps, my grandchildren. Every time I sit down at that table, everyone is there.

We all have symbols that instantly bring us home. The church has a name for these symbols. The church calls them sacraments: outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. And the church’s table brings us home week and week. When we celebrate the Eucharist, we come home to Christ at that holy table, the altar. And, likewise, in that symbol of the Eucharistic table, earthly time falls away and eternity shines. Like our dining table at home, at the Eucharistic table, everyone is there.

Days of Loss and Gratitude

2011-09-05T14:55:00.000-07:00

Mother Martha’s Meditation for the week of September 4, 2011

We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away….Yet, O Lord, you are our Father, we are the clay, and you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64: 6b, 8.

As we approach the tenth anniversary of September 11th, those of us on the East Coast have had some weeks to ponder our insignificance once again. To realize that we can only control so much in our lives. In the space of a week in Baltimore, we had a significant lightening storm followed by an earthquake followed by Hurricane Irene. The aftermath of Hurricane Irene left many of us without power for a few hours, days or even up to a week. In the silence and darkness of a powerless home, many of us were unsettled---as we were in the days after September 11th when flights were grounded and the heavens around us eerily quiet.

It’s often said that “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” That is true on so many levels of life. The security of airports, flights, and national transportation in general. When the earthquake happened in Baltimore (and New York city), many office workers first thought was another terrorist event, not an event from the nature. We’ve lost some of our confidence in our national security to protect us from all disaster. But if we live long enough, we realize that there is only so much humanity (much less a government) can control.

If we live long enough, all of us will lose someone we love to death. Relationships that we value come to an end. Our bodies betray us. So much of our advertising leads us to believe that we can outwit or out-think illness and death. Most of us know that this is the great denial strategy of our time. The day of the earthquake, our 13-year old German Shepherd died. The vet had told us that, at this stage of her life, every day was a gift. But it was easy to think she would defy all odds. In the last few months, she was just a bit slower. A lingering worry began to appear on the edge of my consciousness. That day, as we relaxed on the dock, she stood up and had a stroke. And in a few hours, she was gone, faded away like the wind. A great companion for our family now absent from us. The grief we all felt was intense. Home is awfully quiet now. Someone is missing and life is not the same.

In fact, each day of life is never the same. There are small losses and small gains each day. Some days hold more loss than others. As we approach the anniversary of September 11th, a day of national tragedy will bring forth feelings of shock, dismay, anger and sadness. Such is also true for Americans of a certain age when we come to late November and remember the day of John Kennedy’s assassination or early December and Pearl Harbor. But there is another feeling as we approach the anniversary of a great loss in our lives or in the life of our nation. There is the feeling of gratitude. Gratitude for the resilence to get up another day. Gratitude for family, friends and communities that support us in getting up that next day. Gratitude that somehow, some way, we have made it past the loss.

For many of us, our faith community is the foundational place where we give thanks for the blessing to rise another day and to rise another day enfolded in the love of God. This coming Sunday is Homecoming Sunday at Memorial Church---the Sunday we reconvene to celebrate the beginning of another program year in Christ. As we remember the grief and loss of September 11, 2011, we also remember that on that horrible day, Memorial Church gathered that very night as community---to pray for peace and be sustained by the sacrament of the Eucharist. As we have done Sunday after Sunday for ten years since…..and hopefully for many more. And all through these days and years, we are beig molded through each loss and gain. We are all the work of God’s hands—and each molding, however painful or blessed, transforms us.

Join us in gratitude at 10:30 am on Sunday, September 11 for a Festive Eucharist of word and song, including bagpipe, brass, choir and organ. As we join together, let us give thanks for another day, another day in the Lord together.

Spring abounds and unbinds!

2011-04-11T11:13:00.000-07:00

Jesus cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!: The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let hinm go." John 11:42-44 This weekend at Orkney Springs, the sun finally emerged on Sunday out of the rain, mist and fog of Friday and Saturday. On Sunday morning, I was at Shrine Mont Retreat Center at the end of the Women's Retreat. We gathered at the outdoor stone shrine for Eucharist. The altar area of the shrine is a stone archway that ressembles a stone tomb. As I stood in the "opening" of the tomb and heard this gospel read, I started to feel as though spring had come and, in my soul, some new freedom was awaiting to be born at Easter. The weekend was about telling stories of our mothers, grandmothers and other important women in our lives. My daughter Anna was a presenter and talked about Barbara Swain. She particularly recounted Barbara's image of being Xena, Warrior Princess as she fought her illness of the last year. On the altar that Sunday, there was a picture of Xena, Warrior Princess that someone had cut out of a magazine. Sometimes we all--men and women--need to channel that warrior within to come out of the tomb of our own suffering. But we need not just our inner warrior but also the help of our communities of support to unbind our bands of cloths. It's time to let our wounds heal in the light and air of day. That's what it felt like on Sunday---coming out of the dank, dark tomb and into the fresh air. Ready to be unbound and ready to live again. Holy Week is the time to unbind our wounds through the story of Jesus' passion. To experience through his suffering and death, our own woundedness and vulnerable places in our lives. Time for those parts of ourselves to see the light of day. To be unbound. To come to Easter Day squinting just a bit from the bright light of God's healing love, but ready and willing to be healed. To move on to new life. Thanks be to God for spring. Spring abounds and unbinds!

Fear of Sacrifice

2011-04-01T07:12:00.000-07:00

For I solemnly warned your ancestors when I brought them up out of the land of Egypt, warning them persistently, even to this day, saying, Obey my voice. Yet they did not obey or incline their ear, but everyone walked in the stubbornness of an evil will. Jeremiah 11 In the Daily Lectionary, we are solidly in the early chapters of the prophet Jeremiah. As those who were at Evening Prayer on Tuesday know, Jeremiah is prophesying directly and forcefully to the wayward people of Israel. This Friday and Saturday, I am facilitating a Vestry retreat for another parish in the Diocese of Maryland. We will be talking about goals moving forward. In order to do that work, we need to talk about what we are willing to change in order to allow forward movement to happen. Often the fear of change leads to sin. We fear sacrificing well-known and comfortable ways of living. Our comfortable ways become our weaknesses. And when we rely on our comfortable weaknesses, we often sin against self and others. In his book Keep Going: The Art of Perserverance, Joseph Marshall tells another story from his grandfather Old Hawk. This time on new ways and change: Old Hawk gestured up at the tall, old cottonwood tree towering above them. Its girth was so large that a grown man could not put his arms around it. Old Hawk's father had planted it as a sapling in 1896, the same year he had received an allotment of land from the government. "This tree," he said, "has stood guard over our family all its life. Strength is what I feel each time I look at it. Yet, there have been moments when its great strength was also its weakness." "That is hard to believe," said his grandson. "It's the biggest tree for miles around." Old Hawk pointed at a thicket of chokecherry shrubs in a dry creek not far away. "Look there," he said, "those chokecherry trees are small and weak in comparison to this cottonwood. But when you were a child, they survived a tornado without losing a branch. This old cottonwood, on the other hand, lost several branches. Do you know why?" "No," said his grandson. "Because, in that instance, the cottonwood's great strength became its greatest weakness. It stood up, but it could not bend with the wind the way the chokeberry trees could." "Sometimes we give into our weaknesses." Lent is about recognizing our weakness and choosing to bend with the winds of change that usher in our future life. I know we all have lost some branches in life's storms from refusing to bend just a bit.

Keep Standing

2011-03-28T08:36:00.000-07:00

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.

Earthquake, Fire and Flood

2011-03-24T08:14:00.000-07:00

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.

Jesus and Nicodemus

2011-03-21T06:13:00.000-07:00

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?

A holy Space for God (with text!)

2011-03-17T11:27:00.000-07:00

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?

Holy Space for God

2011-03-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

The Wedding at Cana

2011-03-14T08:56:00.000-07:00

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

The Golden Calf

2011-03-11T05:28:00.000-08:00

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

Ash Wednesday 2011--Finding Dignity in Lent

2011-03-09T05:24:00.000-08:00

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.

Daily Lenten Meditations--A Garland instead of Ashes

2011-02-22T07:07:00.000-08:00

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and the day of vengenance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who mourn in Zion---to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of priase instead of a faint spirit. Isaiah 61: 1-3

The prophet Isaiah brings encouragement to the exiled and the oppressed in this selection from the Book of Isaiah. This passage of Scripture is also recommended to be read at funerals. This was read at Memorialite Barbara Swain's funeral just a week or so ago. It is a hopeful passage for those of us who are separated from God in any way---whether through the death of a beloved, an illness, or a dark night of the soul.

This Lent, I will use the theme "A Garland instead of Ashes" for a daily Lenten mediation. I invite all to send your comments on this theme in to this blog. I look forward to walking the way of the cross with you this Lent....for it is the way of life. Daily Mediations begin on Ash Wednesday, March 9, 2011.

Blessings in Christ, Martha+

Call and Response

2010-08-30T06:41:00.000-07:00

There appeared to Jesus a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for 18 years. She was bent over and quite unable to stand up straight. Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, "Woman, you are set free from your ailment." When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood straight and began praising God. Luke 13:10-13

It is a challenge living into the healing God has for us in life. My favorite uber-psychologist is Carl Jung. He says that: "We walk in shoes too small for us." What might that mean? Are we like the crippled woman who could only see the dirt and dust of the ground right in front of her feet for 18 long years? The woman who couldn't see that there was a larger, brighter world just in front of her and all around?

In his book What Matters Most: Living a Considered Life, James Hollis writes that living "small" is easier than living "large." Hollis tells the story of a man who was 70 years old and retiring from his profession:

What beckoned him ---promising peace, stepping down from the pressures, offering freedom to pursue his interests--has proved to be rather prblematic after all. It seems that in the decades of faithfully serving the expectations of his family, his church, his profession, he has essentially lost contact with his own needs, his own instinctual reality. Like so manhy people, he does not feel an essential permission to be who he is, desire what he wants and pursue what the soul wants. How incredible is this fact that a person can live a productive life, be approved of by family and culture, and have acheived every conscious goal, and still have "no"permission. (p. 63)

I was truly struck by this man's predicament. At different stages of life--not just retirement--we can find ourselves in this situation. We've so lived our lives according to external prompts and expectations that we have forgotten who we are in our deepest soul. We have forgotten the child of God that God created us--and only us--to be. And then, we go back to a place that brings us back to our truest selves. For many of us, that can be our church home. It can be the liturgy of our faith. It can be a summer spot at the ocean or in the mountains. For me, it was going back to my childhood camp this summer.

Going back to a place that I loved allowed me to recover some of the self that I have placed on a shelf somewhere in my soul. A shelf that I will get back to some day. A shelf that had gathered plenty of dust. It's a self that loves to sing and laugh. It's a self that finds God in the outdoors, in the everyday schedule, in friends that know and love you for the long haul. It's so easy to lose that self in the business of our vocational life. This is just as true in the church as it is in the corporation or the school or the business. Somewhere along the way we shelve a critical part of who we are to serve an external authority. Even though that authority might do very good work in the world, if we lose who God created us to be--that very unique part that each of us carries and is given to give back to the world---we are truly lost. Jesus talks about this again and again in so many different parables and teachings.

Yesterday I saw one of the Samartian community clients on the sidewalk. We chatted for a bit. Then he said, "Mother Martha, you look different. The summer agreed with you." Yes, it did. And I wonder: Am I standing up just a bit straighter? Maybe it took dusting off the shelf of my soul by the lake in Tennessee and remembering who I am.

Final Thoughts on Paul's Letter to the Ephesians

2010-03-03T17:21:00.000-08:00

And so we leave Ephesians: It's been a good six weeks together. I've had comments from several of you. Over the past six weeks, I wonder if you've started to think differently about the Pauline letters. As I have grown older and lived more of my life, I am beginning to relate to Paul's words differently. For instance, I do believe that there is spiritual warfare in this world. As Mary Jo commented this week, I also believe that there is a good deal of good in the world. There is also evil---and by that I mean a force in the world that harms the created order and is estranged from God. Evil is something more than individual sin. No human being starts out in a place of evil. We are all created in the image of God. I believe that evil arises from a pattern of sin that often starts out very insignificant and builds on itself. For me, the worship, teaching and community life of the church--the Body of Christ--is what keeps me connected to God and allows me to return to God when I fall away. There is also institutional and collective evil that is powerful in a frightening way. It is part of the Christian call to confront that evil and stand firm for the Kingdom of God. As Mary Jo points out, we often feel that we have the corner on what is good and what is evil. We must always be on guard for our own separation from God. Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith. (1 Peter 4:8-9) There's more on this elsewhere in the New Testament....but that's for another time.

What's Next:
I hope that we can continue to ponder what it is to live in Christ in the world. I would like to continue the blog. I am thinking of commenting on Phyllis Tickle's book The Great Emergence which the Tuesday Morning Study Group is reading. What do you think?

I'll be back with the new topic next week. Until then....Thank you for pondering with me over Paul's Letter to the Ephesians. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. Blessings always, Martha

Ephesians--Chapter 5 &6

2010-02-24T08:03:00.000-08:00

Ephesians 5 &6: Combatting Evil in Life: Take Up the Armour of God!

Comments: Last night at our Tri Church Lenten Series with our local Presbyterian and Roman Catholic churches, we discussed how we confront evil through the rituals of the church. Yesterday evening we focused on baptism. As we continue to ponder how we live as Christians, how we put on Christ in our lives, I want to set the stage for our final week's discussion by drawing your attention to this famous passage in Ephesians 6:

Finally then, find your strength in the Lord, in his mighty powers. Put on all the armour which God provides, so that you may be able to stand firm against the devices of the devil. For our fight is not against human foes, but against the cosmic powers, against the authorities and potentates of this dark world, against the superhuman forces of evil in the heavens. therefore, take up God's armour; then you will be able to stand your ground when things are at their worst, to complete every task and still to stand. Ephesians 6:10-13

How do we face evil? What is the difference between sin and evil in our lives?

Our commenters Mary Jo and Margie this week spoke about how we deal with estrangement in our daily lives:

Mary Jo said in part: "Resentments will not only kill the spirit but will eventually kill the flesh. Resentments can take over your entire life. Your entire demeanor will reflect the anger and bitterness that accompanies resentment. I try not to carry resentments. As soon as I realize that resentment is creeping into my life I will talk with someone about what is going on. Sometimes resentment is based on miscommunication or misinformation. even if the cause of resentment is based on truth, it will kill me if I hang on to it. It is impossible to be joyful, happy and free if resentment controls my life......What is the hardest thing about being a Christian? Being a Christian!....Being a Christian is like being a hero. It's not that a hero isn't afraid. The hero goes forward in spite of the fear."

Margie in South Africa said this: "To live as a Christian everyday means listening to others rather than criticising them. We need to be THERMOSTATS, not thermometers." As a part of her e-mail, Margie sent a piece on being a thermometer which said in part: "Scripture says you overcome evil with good. In your life, when you deal with those who are negative, critical, rude and short-tempered, you don't have to let them infect you. You can infect them. You don't have to be part of the majority; you can live in the minority. You can act as a thermostat, one who changes the temperature and the attitudes of those around you....when you talk defeat, you draw in defeat....You didn't let them pull you down. You pulled them up."

Do you think that being a Christian thermostat can work in the world? Can it work against not just sin but evil?

Homework: Read Chapter 6. Also, read through the text of the hymn "Onward, Christian Soldiers." (Hymnal 1982, #562) There are many who have issues with this hymn. Some love it. How might it relate to the armour of God? Think about evil in the world. How is it different than sin? How do we stand firm in a world with evil?

Ephesians Online--Chapter 4 Comments

2010-02-17T07:14:00.001-08:00

Epheisans Online--Chapter Four Comments and Chapter Five Homework

Hi all! Sorry for the slight delay....we have received historic amounts of snow in Baltimore--about 60 inches in the past three weeks or so. We are all just now plowing out and getting back to our routines and schedules. And now...it's Ash Wednesday and Lent already. As we move into Chapter 4, we are moving from the theme of the first three chapters--"WHY" we follow Christ--to the second three chapters--"HOW" we follow Christ. As a discussion topic, I wondered if some of you had seen the movies Avatar and District 9 to think about how we are as Christians in the world. Two of you had comments that I'll share:

Margie from South Africa said about Avatar: "Lots of Violence! It reminded me of Bush sending his troops into Iraq, destroying the regime. As a Christian, I found it violent but it certainly showed how those with power can become greedy...From the side of the indigenous folk, they were fighting to survive an evil force. We need to be like Jesus in this world and not go with the flow of evil around us."

Mary Jo from Baltimore/Columbia wrote about Avatar: "It seemed to me that the indigenous people were closer to the oneness of their belief system than the invaders. I thought it was wonderful cinematography as well as propaganda. I don't often consciously think of things in a Christian context. To be honest I don't often consciously think of my actions in "Christian" terms. I do look at whether or not something reflects my values and do my actions reflect those same values."

Mary Jo went on to say: "Human nature would make me think that it was as equally difficult to live as Paul suggests at the time he wrote the letter as it is today. The challenge is to understand and/or believe in a "just war" or to beleive in no war. Is God on one side or the other...since it seems that everyone calls to the Creator for help to destroy their enemy? My mother often said that God must weep for what we do in His name."

Mary Jo also recalled a trip that she and Gert took to Jerusalem and the Chruch of the Holy Sepulcher: "The church is divided into different sections because the Roman Catholic and Eastern orthodox both lay claim to the Church. they have come to blows over who has the right to light the Easter vigil candles among other issues. For centuries the secular government has often intervened in their disputes. What an example of Christian love! In ordinary daily life we are confronted by such simple/complex issues as how to resolve differences between friends or who was first in line...and with the recent storm, who has the right to the shoveled parking spaces! For some, the answers to these issues are: to be civil, show respect, and consider others. Is this a modern interpretation of Ephesians 4:32 "be kind to one another, compassionate, forgiving one another as God has forgiven you in Christ?"

All good comments. What do others of you think? E-mail me at mmacgill@memorialepiscopal.org if you can't get the comment piece of the blog to work for you. Lucy in South Africa: what do you think? Alice in Baltimore?

Homework for Chapter 5: What does it mean to be a Christian everyday? Let's continue the discussion we began above. What is the hardest thing to do as a Christian in everyday life? Paul talks about abandoning anger as the sun sets....is this possible in every situation? According to William Barclay, Paul ends Chapter 4 with a list of things which must be banished from life. One of those things is bitterness or pikria. According to Barclay, the Greeks defined this word as long-standing resentment--"the spirit which refuses to be reconciled." (p. 183 Barclay, The Letters to the Galatians and Ephesians) What do we do about long-standing resentments? How do we follow Christ into a place of justice and reconciliation?

Let me know. Looking forward to what you have to say.

Ephesians Online--More comments and Chapter 4

2010-02-08T08:03:00.000-08:00

Ephesians Chapters 2 &3 Comments

Initial comments: I know some of you continue to find it difficult to comment online. I heard from Margie C. in South Africa that she had trouble as well. Please do e-mail me comments at mmacgill@memorialepiscopal.org and I can include your thoughts. We are also having trouble with the blog posted to the Memorial website. So, we will finish out this course using this method, but move to a better program for our next topic. I love that we have folks in Baltimore AND South Africa studying Ephesians together!

Baltimore context: As those of you in the States know, Baltimore got a record-setting snow over the weekend. Howard County--where Mary Jo lives--got almost 40 inches. It looks like a good two feet plus in Baltimore City. While the Memorial Church sidewalks are plowed, many of the Bolton Hill streets are not passable. There were 30 locals at our Morning Prayer service this past Sunday. No Annual Meeting. Another snowstorm approaching Tuesday night! So, we can all feel a bit like Paul in prison---housebound is fun for a while and then cabin fever sets in! We can feel a bit walled off from our communities.

Speaking of Paul in prison: Mary Jo asked some good questions about if things were becoming rough for Christians in this period---including why Paul was in prison. In general terms, the safety of Christians depended on the Roman leadership. If the emperor was lax about Christian practices, there was peace for the Christian. If the emperor was threatened by the Christian practice to NOT pledge loyalty to the emperor, then persecutions began. Paul was preaching in public places and probably stirring up crowds which made the Roman powers nervous and which made him an easy mark. Persecutions became more common in the second century. An interesting note: Some scholars (Marcus Barth and Jerome Murphy-O'Connor have suggested that Ephesians was written by a follower of Paul from the Essene community of Qumran. The Essenes were concerned with principalities and powers as well as persecution from within the Jewish community.

Several themes in Chapter 1 through 3: The book of Ephesians is roughly divided into two sections--Chapters 1-3 and Chapters 4-6. In Chapters 1-3, Paul (or Paul's followers) sets the theme of God's power in Christ in the church. This theme is marked by and told through forms of prayer in Chapters 1-3. Ephesians 3:14-21 is the concluding prayer in this first section of Ephesians. Here are some interesting themes:

(1)"Rooted and Grounded:" Commentators have puzzled over this mixed-metaphor from farm and building. (3:17) Paul has used these images before when he speaks of the church or household of God "built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets" and "is joined together and grows into a holy temple".."for a dwelling place of God." (2:20-22). This is a good argument that Paul or someone who knew Paul well wrote Ephesians. The building/agriculture metaphor is cound in 1 Corinthians 3:6-15 and Colossians 2:6-7. Paul was fond of combining these two images in his uncontested letters.

(2) "Rooted and Grounded" and the "Dividing Wall": In Ephesians, the love of Christ is not only a deeply rooted and cosmic all-powerful force, but this love breaks down walls. In Chapter Two, Paul writes: "But now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For his is our peace; in his flesh he has made noth groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us." (2:13-14) What might this dividing wall be referring to? Some commentators have suggested that this was a reference to "the low barrier around the outer court of the Jerusalem temple on which notices were posted in Greek and Latin warning Gentiles against entry." (Bonnie Thurston, Spiritual Life in the Eearly Church, p. 86) Scholar G.B. Caird finds the term to reflect a metaphor from rabbin and biblical theology. The word phragmos ("fence" or "partition") is used in the Greek text of Isaiah 5:2 and Mark 12:1 for the hedge that God plants around his vineyard, Israel. Caird notes that in Ephesians, the metaphor may refer to God's protective hedge which has now become a hostile, rigid, legal system under Jewish nationalism. God's love is so powerful that even this hedge has been overcome. It is safe for Gentiles to embrace the Jewish heritage. Those in Christ are one.

(3) "Infinitely More than We Can Ask or Imagine": Paul ends the prayer of Ephesians 3:14-21 with these famous final two verses. Verses captured as the closing sentences in the Episcopal tradition of Morning Prayer. God in Christ is so powerful that everything is up for transformation. This passage harkens to the annunciation of Mary--"For nothing will be impossible with God"(Luke 1:37) as well as Romans 8:39: "For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." These are passages that give hope across the ages. Liturgically, this section of Ephesians is chosen as the reading for Ascension Day. In Feasting on the Word, Joyce Hollyday states that "Because Christ is enthroned in heaven, we can expect the earthly thrones to be vacated by the abusive, imperial rulers, just as Mary the mother of Jesus predicted 2000 years ago (see the Magnificat Luke 1). We can trust that all will unfold "according to the working of God's great power." (Ephesians 3:19) This is indeed part of "the hope to which God has called us."

Cultural Ponderings: Over the Christmas holidays, I saw the blockbuster movie, Avatar. Over this snowbound weekend, I watched District Nine. Both movies speak to the earthly powers' (and maybe heavenly powers') destructive tendencies to the"other." Both movies speak to the dividing walls we humans are inclined to erect again and again. Since District Nine was set in South Africa, I was wondering what our South African bloggers think of that movie. In particular, how does the love of God become all-powerful in the face of violent oppression? Is violence for violence the only answer(see Avatar especially)? How might Paul respond to those situations in a letter? Or is that just too strange to consider? How would we as Christians respond to those films?

Homework: Consider the questions above and then read Chapter Four---which begins the second half of Ephesians--the half that considers how we act as Christians in the world.

Ephesians Online--Chapter Two and Three

2010-02-01T17:08:00.000-08:00

Comments on Chapter Two of Ephesians:

Hope that everyone is reading along in Ephesians. We had two comments this week--from Lucy and Mary Jo. Here is my response:

Chapter Two of Ephesians speaks to sin and grace. I have two primary points on this chapter about context. I'll talk more about sin and grace as we move through the letter. Today I want to add to my comments last week about the religious context which Paul speak to in his Letter to the Ephesians. In her book Spiritual Life of the Early Church, Bonnie Thurston explains about the city of Ephesus and its religious character.

The City of Ephesus: According to Greek legend, Ephesus was founded by the Amazons. There were also several permutations of Ephesus. The silt in the harbor led to there being FIVE different locations of Ephesus over the years. In the first century, Ephesus had a quarter of a million inhabitants and was ranked with Antioch in Syria and Alexandria in Egypt as the three great cities of the Eastern Mediterranean. Ephesus was politically important as it was the capital of the Roman province in Asia. It was a major shipping center and was the terminal of important inland trade routes. The city was laid out in a Hellenistic plan with a stadium and theatre. Here is a good description from Thurston's book: "The luxury of the city in Paul's time(57 c.e.?) is attested to by the remnants of marble streets with statues of prominent citizens and canopied colonnades that shielded shoppers from the weather. The city contained public buildings and temples as well as restaurants, a brothel, and patrician homes. The city had six public baths with provision for both hot and cold water. " (p. 68) I like to think of Ephesus like St Peter's Square in Rome---with all those colannades and statues.

The Religions of Ephesus: Second, in addition to being a major city in trade, population and culture, Ephesus was also a great religious center. First and foremost, Ephesus historically had been the center of the cult of Artemis along with the emperor cults, gnosticism and a magical form of Judaism. Artemis was a very popular form of goddess worship in the ancient Greek world. Artemis was the daughter of Leto and Zeus and the sister of Apollo. She is also known as Diana. In most Artemis worship, Artemis is seen as a virgin hunter and moon goddess who is the protector of maidens and women in childbirth. The Ephesian Artemis was different and was more of an Asian fertility goddess and earth mother. In Ephesus, there was the famous Artemision. The Artemision was a temple which served the goddess Artemis. The temple was staffed by eunuch priests, attendants, and thousand of female slaves (who may have been prostitutes). Magic played a large part in the worship of Artemis. Biblical Scholar B.M. Metzger wrote that "of all ancient Greco-Roman cities, Ephesus...was by far the most hospitable to magicians, sorcerers, and chalatans of all sorts." (quoted in Thurston, p. 69) Thurston states that Ephesus "proliferated in magical practice, the aim of which was to gain power over the spiritual world (which, it was believed, exercised influence over all aspects of human life). Followers of Artemis saw her as more powerful than this demonic realm and that the purpose of Ephesians was to address the power of Christianity in relation to these demonic powers. Take a look at Chapter Two once again: How might Paul be speaking to those Christian Ephesians that had been part of the cult of Artemis?

Chapter Three: This chapter has the great prayer in verses 14-21. If you were listening to the Letter being read in a home in Ephesus, what would you hear in this Chapter? What would you want to know about?

Ephesians Online---Chapter Two

2010-01-25T05:52:00.000-08:00

Chapter One--Reply to Comments and More

Initial Kudos! We had three comments to Chapter One. One from our friend Lucy in South Africa and two from Memorialites Mary Jo and Alice B. Well Done! I know that it can be hard to figure out how to comment on line. The best way is to go to my blog OFF the memorial website. Log into mmmeditation on blogger.com. Go down to the comment pencil and click. Other comments will come up and at the end of those comments is a space for you to post your comments. Give it a try! If it is frustrating (which I know it is), just e-mail at mmacgill@memorialepiscopal.com. I'll include your comments in my reply...and if I don't get too frustrated, will try to figure out how to post them. Now, on to Ephesians!

Comments on Chapter One: Our writers noted the long sentences in Ephesians and the great list of blessings. Our commenters also noted trust as being a response to the love of God. Moreover, they wondered about the concept of church in Ephesians. I have three points in reply.
First, the writer of Ephesians (whether Paul or a follower of Paul) was of a Jewish background living in a Hellenistic world. Chapter One follows a very Jewish spirituality. In her book Spiritual Life in the Early Church: The Witness of Acts and Ephesians, Bonnie Thurston notes scholar Urban T. Holmes' view that there are three primary images in Jewish belief and practice at this time: da'ath, shekinah, and berakah. (p. 9) These three images are found in the very first chapter of Ephesians. Da'ath is "knowledge that takes possession of the person known." Shekinah is "the dwelling of God with God's people." Shekinah is present not only in the Temple but in the midst of several people when they gather together to study Torah. Finally, berakah is blessing or thanksgiving. It is "the characteristic response to God and involves blessing God's name and being thankful for all God has done."
Now, give a look to Chapter One of Ephesians. All three images are present--reworked by Paul to include the Christian witness and a Hellenistic audience. Da'ath is found in the sense that God takes possession of us in Christ. Verse 5: "He(God) destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will." Verse 10: "as a plan, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and on earth." Shekinah is manifest in Paul's view that when the people gather in faith God gives them the spirit of wisdom and revelation. That in community "the eyes of your heart" are "enlightened," that "you may know what is the hope to which he has called you." (verse 18). Of course, as many of you have noted, the concept of berakah literally permeates chapter one....blessing upon blessings.
So, first, Paul's writing takes a very Jewish spirituality--and is reworked for the Christian church in a Hellensitic setting.

Second, the concept of church. In response to Chapter Two, I will go into more detail with this in my comments at the end of this week. Two points for now: (1) Paul's concept of "church" in Ephesians is a church that is more than a congregation in one place. The church is more than a temple in Jerusalem. The church is a cosmic church--and church that breaks the bonds of what Jews or Greeks have thought about church. (2) Ephesus was the center of the cult of Artemis as well as a center for magical powers. The writer of the Letter to the Ephesians was grappling with these powerful influences.

Third, in the end, I find Chapter One a stirring spiritual encouragement to those separated from ones that they love. Whether Paul was actually in prison when he wrote this letter, verses 15-19 truly sustained me when I was in South Africa and feeling separated from family and friends back home. The power of knowing that folks were praying for you from across the world was palpable and real. You can feel it! I also learned during my time in South Africa that the very same power was right by my side as I began to pray weekly with my lay ministers (Lucy included) on Monday nights in the church. As we gathered together in St Francis in Walkerville, God's Spirit was with us--the eyes of our hearts were opened again and again. The famous Prayer of St Crystostom in the Book of Common Prayer reflects this: "when two or three are gathered together in my name, you will be in the midst of them." This concept of prayer and blessing is especially important when we are separated from someone we love who is in crisis---whether in the hospital away from home or across the globe. It is also helpful for those of us who want to pray for those we don't know in a hard time---like the people of Haiti. The power of coming together to pray with others in faith and with love for the saints is one of the most powerful tools we have in this world. So pray away!

Assignment for this week: Read Chapter Two as you read Chapter One. What grabs you? What makes you wonder? Is there a time in your life when you felt dead through sin and came alive again?

Ephesians Online---Chapter One

2010-01-18T07:55:00.000-08:00

Welcome to the Ephesians Online Course!
This is the first time I've tried an online course at Memorial....so we are all part of a great experiment. My first blog of the New Year gives you some ideas of why I love the Letter to the Ephesians (see my post immediately before this one). Now comes the time to dig into the text. Here are some initial comments about how I am approaching the course.

Getting started with Paul: This will be a six-week course. There will be THREE segments to each weekly class. FIRST, each Monday, I will post an initial assignment for the week. The assignment will include (1) reading from the Letter to the Ephesians; (2) Some preliminary comments by me; and (3) some questions to mull over. THEN comes the SECOND interactive phase. This phase is important and involves your input and comments. As you read and mull over the assignment, I humbly invite your comments on the readings and questions. What strikes you about the reading? Where do you have immediate (even visceral) positive or negative reactions? What do you wonder about Paul, the community he writes to, and the utility of this piece of scripture to your everyday faith. On FRIDAY, the third phase happens. I will take the comments for the week and write my own response. That response will probably include research on Paul and the community of Ephesus, the historical context of the times, what scholars have said, and just general ruminations from me. At the end of the course, I hope that we can gather in person for coffee or tea (and maybe host a local New Testament scholar) to put a capstone on our time together. If this proves to be a popular idea, we can choose another topic for Lent. So here we go with our first assignment.

Week of 2 Epiphany beginning January 18, 2010:

Assignment: (1)Read Chapter One of Paul's Letter to the Ephesians. The Letter comes after Galatians and before Philippians in the New Testament. I would suggest a form of lectio divina type of reading. First, make sure you have some time of quiet without distractions--early morning or late evening are often best. Read Ephesians through once. Then, read Ephesians OUTLOUD slowly. Keep pen and paper nearby and after you have read the text outloud, make notes about what words and phrases struck you. Now think about the passage in relation to my following comments and questions.

(2) Martha's comments: Chapter One of Ephesians takes on a common Pauline formula: Salutation/Greeting in verses 1:1-2, Thanksgiving of Blessings--to God(verses 3-14) and to the hearers of the Letter (15-22). One of the hallmarks of Paul is his concept of faith as a response made in trust. The greek word he uses for this response is pistis. Pistis is usually translated as "faith" but also "trust". According to Paul, the gospel message must be heard and heeded in trust and faith. According to scholar Leander Keck:

When Paul understands faith as obedience, he does not regard the gospel as command. Rather, it is a message that makes a claim on the hearer, one which calls for a response that has a moral quality to it, not merely an intellectual assent....It energizes the will no less than the mind and feelings; trust is a response of the whole self. When that response is to a word that makes a claim on the hearer, that response can be called obedience....To trust is to commit oneself...The more radical the message, the deeper the response. In fact, who we are is determined by whom and what we trust (or distrust), by what we count on. (Keck, Paul and His Letters, Proclamation Commentaries, Gerhard Krodel, editor, pp. 51-52)

In verses 15ff., Paul commends the people in Ephesus (or the churches in Asia Minor where the letter was circulated) for their faith in the Lord Jesus and their love towards all the saints. They are commended for their response. This is the part of the letter that grabs me again and again.

Questions: (1) What part of Chapter One of the Letter to the Ephesians grabbed you? That made you sit up and notice? If you were in a home church in Ephesus listening to this letter being read, what would you take away? Or had Paul lost you when he started in on adoption and redemption?
(2)Where does trust figure into your faith life? In what do you absolutely trust in this life?

I'll be watching for comments on this blog all through the week. You can also e-mail at mmacgill@memorialepiscopal.org. It works best if we all post our comments on this blog so, like in a face-to-face class, we can benefit from everyone's comments. Grace and peace, Martha+

New Year with Apostle Paul and the Ephesians

2010-01-04T08:48:00.000-08:00

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God. To the saints who are in Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. The Letter of Paul to the Ephesians 1:1-2

And so it begins. Paul, the sometimes cantakerous and always wordy fellow, begins his letter to the Christian church in Ephesus. I've always loved this letter. Our Episcopal lectionary brings the Letter of Ephesians to our Sunday consciousness at Epiphany. It is a letter that brings tidings of hope and celebration.

Scholars are divided as to the authorship of the Letter to the Ephesians. Was it Paul himself who wrote the letter or one of his followers? Ephesians is regarded as a "circular letter" that was not written specifically for the church in Ephesus, but distributed to the churches in Asia Minor. There are significant differences in the writing style and content within the Letter to the Ephesians from works attributed definitively to Paul. Such differences lead scholars to believe that the letter was written by a follower of Paul...someone who had access to Paul's correspondence. If that is the case, so be it. Yet, something in me likes to think that Paul was the author of this letter---at least, the author of the original draft of the letter. For scholars do think, that if Paul did write the letter, he did so at the end of his life while he was in prison.

As one reads the Letter to the Ephesians, the hope and celebration leap off the page---and this is even more palpable when one considers that Paul is writing these words in a jail cell at the end of his life. I find that the Letter to the Ephesians speaks to me when I am particularly feeling in a prison of sorts--often a prison of my own devising. The letter speaks to me when I find myself stuck in some way.

As we begin the New Year 2010 together, I'd like to use the Letter to the Ephesians as a scriptural text for our wondering about hope and celebration in a difficult time. I hope you'll join me in this journey. Add your comments if so moved. Or just come along as you are able. Grace to you and Peace. Martha+

Prepare the Way of the Lord

2009-12-07T08:46:00.001-08:00

Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smother; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God. Luke 3:6

Time to prepare. That's what John the Baptist tells us.
Time to prepare for the season.
In my household as a child, we all knew that the big event of the season was the annual Christmas party at our home.
My parents’ Christmas party really.
I believe that everything from Thanksgiving on was aiming towards that night.
Our Christmas party was a trim-the-tree party.
The Christmas tree appeared sometime the week before the party in our enclosed porch.
Lights were strung.
But no ornaments.
The ornaments would come on the night of the party.
Guests would bring a handmade ornament for the tree.
The next day we would add our own.
As a child, it seemed that the party was little about the tree.
Since, as usual, I was the only child at the party, I got to observe the adult behavior.
There never seemed to be any people around the tree—oohing and aahhing and admiring the twinkling sight and inhaling the pine scent.
There were two places the adults were.
Many were gathered around our dining room table to partake of the goodies.
There were the pigs in a blanket—little hot dogs in crescent rolls.
There was the turkey.
There was the Smithfield ham—ordered by my mother from her hometown and steeped and cooked in a magical concoction of brine for a few days before the party.
I tried to like the salty ham, but preferred to stay with pigs in a blanket.
I often hid under the dining room table with the dog during the party.
While the dog enjoyed the ham and turkey scraps falling from the table, I watched the shiny high heels and black wing-tips glide by.
But the main center of activity was the living room.
That was where the silver punch bowl resided.
And in the punch bowl was the infamous St Cecelia’s punch.
That was my father’s domain.
Like the Smithfield ham and the Christmas tree, St Cecelia’s punch was created over several days.
It consisted of slices of oranges, lemons and limes in a soup of many and varied liquors.
It would steep in the cold garage for a few days before the party.
My father would go out to the garage to observe and stir the punch.
That’s where all the adults congregated during the party.
As the conversation grew louder over the evening in the living room, I stayed by the tree---beholden by its bright lights and beauty.

As we grow older, we take on our own holiday traditions.
Ways of preparing for the season.
As I think back to my childhood, I wonder what would have happened if John the Baptist had appeared at our trim-the tree party.
I imagine him appearing in the middle of the gowned women and tuxedoed men—right by the punch bowl and St Cecelia’s punch.
What would he have said?
Would he have gotten in the front door?

How does John the Baptist enter our holiday preparations?
Does he enter at all?
Do we really want to hear a call to repentance at a time of year that evokes all sorts of tender memories. Tender and painful.
Folks we see no longer. Loneliness.
Parties are ways to combat these feelings. But all too often parties can be occasions to cover up our deepest feelings of the season.
In part, that’s why St Cecelia’s punch is a popular item.

I’m not here to call a halt to holiday parties.
I’m here to wonder today what a spiritual Advent preparation for Christmas might look like.

I hope that you'll join me at the annual Advent Lessons and Carols service at Memorial this coming Friday, December 11. We will gather for a light supper at 6:30 in the Parish Hall and then move to the church for the service at 7:30 pm. Candlelight will fill the church as we hear Advent lessons, sing Advent hymns and enjoy Advent anthems sung be the Memorial choir. Maybe in this time, we can begin to prepare for our spiritual journey in the new year. If you can't be here for this event, check out my blog later in the week. I'll suggest readings to share with a loved one or read by the fire in the days to come.

Waiting--Not So easy

2009-11-30T17:19:00.000-08:00

Monday, November 20, 2009
First Monday of Advent

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, "The Lord needs them." And he will send them immediately.
from Matthew 21:1-11, Daily Office, Year Two reading

In Advent, we begin another year of Daily Office readings. It seems a bit strange to begin with a scene more familiar to another part of the liturgical and calendar year--Palm Sunday and Spring. But as I read this selection from Matthew more closely, I believe that it does have quite a bit to do with the concept of Advent waiting.

One of my books for Advent pondering is The Meaning is in the Waiting by Paula Gooder (Paraclete Press, 2008). Here's a gem about how hard it is for us to wait---especially when there is a problem just waiting to be solved. Here's how Gooder puts it:

Imagine you have a broken washing machine. You call the washing machine repair service and wait, and wait, and wait, but no one comes. In your desperation, you get out the tool kit and attempt to solve the problem yourself. Now you may be a brilliant repairer of washing machines, but I know that I would end up with a pile of parts on the floor, no washing machine, and the need to go out and buy a new one." (Gooder, p. 34)

In our reading from Matthew, how did the disciples follow Jesus' instruction? If I were one of those disciples charged with finding the colt and donkey, I bet that if the donkey and colt didn't present themselves immediately, I would make my own plan to find a donkey and colt. One that I think would be easier, better, more efficient, faster.

One morning in South Africa, the children and I went out to the garage to get in the car to go to school. We piled in the car. I put the key in the ignition and turned the key. Nothing. Yes, you know that feeling. No sound. The battery was dead. My mind went into quick thinking mode. I wanted to get the children to school and then I had errands that I wanted to get done that day. I didn't want ot wait for a mechanic to bring a battery. So, I had a brainy idea. The car was perched in the garage at an elevated level. What if I pushed the car backwards in neutral until it hit the garage ramp---as it picked up speed--going backwards--I could jump it into gear. I'd seen it done going forward. Couldn't it work backwards? I told the children to Stand Back. I got in the car. I kept the driver's side door open a bit with one leg and foot out. I pushed with my outside foot against the concrete. The car started to move. Then it really started to move as it hit the garage ramp. WHAP! A horrible sound of crunching metal. Before I knew it, the car door had been pulled off its hinges. I was unable to close it as the car picked up speed as it passed the sides of the garage door. Luckily, I had gotten my leg inside the car or it might be dangling too. I somehow engaged the emergency brake. I looked around. Jack and Anna were staring at me, the car, the situation --dumbfounded. Finally, one of them said, "Oh-Oh, Mommy!"
Well, I had a lot of explaining to do since this was a church car. I was without a car for a week or two. Rather than wait for someone to come and replace the battery, I had made the situation much worse. Why couldn't I have waited for a morning? It's a good family story now. That morning, it wasn't very funny. My impatience got the best of me.

Waiting....it's hard for humans to do. What's your story of impatient problem solving gone wrong?

Leavetakings and New Beginnings

2009-11-09T05:57:00.001-08:00

The fall seems have flown by and now we are almost at Thanksgiving! As I noted in my Monday meditation today (memorialepiscopal.org), this time of year truly marks the end of the year for me. Not only does the liturgical year--Advent--begin at the end of November, but the season of All Saints and Thanksgiving bring my attention to those I love and see no longer as well as the blessing of these departed loved ones in my life. My parents were born on November 6 and November 8. My son, who is now 21(!), was born on November 7. So, this time of year naturally reminds me of leavetakings and new beginnings.
As I pondered how it could be that it was 21 years ago that I was in the hospital wondering what labor and delivery was all about (and about to find out directly), I was brought back to pregnancy and delivery by our two Memorial couples who will be finding out directly about birth this month. On Sunday morning, I gave the parish cross to Tom and Erin who are expecting a baby this coming weekend. Sunday afternoon, I took communion to Liz and Steph. Liz hopes to have her son (to be named Henry Isaac!) over Thanksgiving (or sooner she says). My visit with Liz and Steph took me back 21 years to sleeping sitting up, eating Ben and Jerry's heath bar crunch ice cream a pint at at time, and raking leaves 9 months pregnant. Such feelings of excitement, anticipation and fear rolled into one.
At EFM class (Education for Ministry) last week, I presented a theological reflection on my son's leavetaking a few years ago to China. I've written about his coming home as part of my South Africa writings. Here is the excerpt.

The Art of Coming Home

It was the longest day of my life so far. Surely there have been many long hours and days. There was the day leading up to thyroid cancer surgery. There was Bryan’s prostate surgery this past February. But Wednesday, May 31, 2006 must have been the longest day of my life. My first born son, Jack, would arrive home from Beijing, China after an academic year away. He was to fly through 12 time zones and over Russia, the Bearing Strait, Alaska and then across the entire United States. I began to feel the dread of his journey on Monday. My stomach just didn’t feel right. That’s where it always begins. In the pit of my stomach. As I sat down to read the newspaper on Tuesday morning the phone rang. It was Jack. He was clearly anxious. He couldn’t get everything in his suitcase. He had to leave his sleeping bag behind. He had said goodbye to all his teachers. Now it was almost time to say goodbye to his Chinese mom and dad—who had loved and cared for him since he arrived last August. Parting was hard. His voice kept getting quieter. He said he didn’t feel well. He couldn’t breathe. Could I call him back? When I called back after an agonizing five minutes, he seemed better, but his voice still was weak. “Breathe, Bub,” I said, “Just breathe.” We started talking about the Orioles—how was the hometown baseball team doing? Not so well. The pitching stank. A laugh. Equilibrium was returning to his voice. After I hung up, I had to breathe---deep, long, slow breaths. My heart went out to my son. It is always hard saying goodbye to those you love. It is particularly hard saying goodbye to friends and family who live far away---even after only a few short months.

My son’s phone call brought me back to the weeks and days leading up to leaving South Africa after almost three years. There were many goodbye parties. There was the usual pathos of leaving a parish you love as a parish priest---some parishioners accepted your move and gave thanks for being together, some parishioners clung tighter, some parishioners distanced themselves from you as far as possible, some were inexplicably angry at you. But the day we left---that was a long day as well. By then, the furniture was again on the container somewhere in the Atlantic on its way to Baltimore. We didn’t pray for the container anymore. We had been burglarized again and so had less luggage than what we arrived with. The parish car was at Peter Day’s house without tires on blocks---so it wouldn’t be stolen before the next parish priest arrived. Passports and tickets in hand, we were just waiting to go. All international overseas flight generally leave Johannesburg in the early to late evening. That meant waiting around all day. I don’t even know what we did. Jack and Anna read the new Harry Potter book which was impossible to get at home, but plentiful on the shelves of Johannesburg bookstores. But the time came to go to the airport. It was time to leave our home of three years. It was time to leave my sister in Christ Estelle. We drove to the airport in two cars this time. The Rogans drove Jack, Anna and Bryan. I rode with Estelle. A great heaviness hung in the car. Estelle had special African music on her tape player. We drove by those same gold dumps and mines that we had passed thre years ago—now as familiar as old friends. The heaviness stayed with us as we checked our luggage and waited with a grand assortment of friends from the parish in the restaurant area. Then it was time to board the plane. It was time to leave Estelle. That meant we were really going. On the way to the entrance to the boarding area, Dorothy Mosepe and Thembe arrived with presents. There were hugs all around. Then I turned to Estelle. It was too much. The floodgates opened. We hugged and she ran off into the crowd. I watched until I could no longer see her bright white hair. It didn’t take long. Once in the duty free area, I headed for the Ladies Room. I sobbed and sobbed in the stall. My heart felt as it were being torn from my body. Why was I leaving? What was I thinking?

How can it be that leaving people you have known only a few short months or a couple of years be so difficult? There is something about leaving friends in Christ in another part of the world. There is something about stepping forth in faith into a dark and unknown place—only trusting that God’s love will be present in those who are your companions on the way while in that place. In our American world of “I’ll scratch your back, if you scratch mine” and “Well, what have you done for me lately?” it is humbling and awesome to place your lives in the hands of strangers and be loved beyond measure—just because you are human and a child of God. There is no sense of binding family duty in the world of global ministry. There is just the overwhelming love of God. People love you because you are you in Christ. Amazing! It took going to the farthest spot in the world for me to realize this. Once you realize this, you never want to let it go.

I know there were some adults who wondered how Bryan and I could possibly let our 17 year old son go to Beijing, China for an academic year. Was it prudent? Was it safe? Could we possibly be good, responsible parents if we let him go? I think it was the gift of South Africa that Jack even considered going to China for his junior year of high school and we as his parents considered letting him go. We know that the kindness of strangers is an incredible gift and blessing—especially the kindness of strangers in Christ. Strangers in Christ? Is that possible? The only way to know for sure is to step into that dark, unknown place and see. And we now know. In God’s love, there are no strangers. Only ministering angels. But we have to step out in faith not knowing to know it finally.

As Jack left China, his Chinese father cried. On the other side of the world, as he walked down a long corridor at Baltimore-Washington Airport, an American mother embraced her son in tears. Both were tears of heartache and joy—for the leaving and for the coming together once again. If we don’t meet in South Africa or America or China again, we will meet in the Kingdom and there we will see one another face to face. I now know that this is true in my heart. The tears tell me it is so.

Back in the saddle!

2009-09-27T18:19:00.000-07:00

Our help is in the Name of the Lord,* the maker of heaven and earth Psalm 124:8

It's fun to be back at the blog--pondering God and life. I can't believe that it is now the end of September and that fall is truly upon us. Fall is my favorite season. Even though it is hard to return to the pace of fuller days, I find that help comes in God's creative touch in the fall weather. I love the crisp days. Perfect days for hiking. Not just hiking in the country but hiking in the city. This Saturday, I had my first fall hike. The front was blowing in from the west and there was a stiff breeze when I started out around 10:30 am. I walked from the Clipper Mill apartments up to the Druid Hill trail that begins at the top of our street up into the north edge of Druid Hill Park. It was quiet. The only sounds were the acorns falling from the oak trees. I walked past the Frisbee Golf course and by the Maryland Zoo. The zoo parking lot was filling up and many families and couples were making their way to the zoo entrance. I continued walking towards the arboretum. There were cars parked everywhere as a Baltimore Tennis Patrons breakfast was in full swing under the tent. There was a plant sale at the arboretum. A little ways further and I found the resevoir full of walkers and joggers. The city was renting bikes at the resevoir as well and there were families, singles and couples riding around and around the water. I felt part of a great whirlwind of urban activity and recreation. I briefly considered conitnuing on across the 29th street bridge but I retraced my steps back through the park. I arrived back home after an hour and a half of brisk walking. I felt alive in the wind, the cooler weather, the urban activity, the green space. I love urban hiking! I'd like to discover other great urban hikes--what's yours?

Summer Vacation

2009-06-30T13:27:00.000-07:00

To my beloved blog friends: It is summertime and time to take it easy! I'll be taking a brief sabbatical from my blog for the summer. I'll be spending time with friends and family, hiking and biking in the Western Maryland mountains, and writing. In particular, I'm working on a book of meditations to be published in the fall for Lent 2010. Have a grand summer and be sure to check back in around September 1 for more meditations on this blog. love and blessings, Mother Martha

Friday, June 5, 2009

2009-06-05T07:18:00.000-07:00

Letter from a Birmingham Jail

I am cognizant of the interrelatedness of all communities and states. I cannot sit idly by in Atlanta and not be concerned about what happens in Birmingham. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. Anyone who lives inside the United States can never be considered an outsider anywhere within its bounds. From Letter from a Birmingham Jail by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. dated April 16, 1963

It's been a while since I've read Dr. King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail. Just recently, someone mentioned to me how much that letter had become a foundational document in his life. When our Wednesday morning Bible Study group arrived at Peter Gomes' chapter on the Bible and Slavery and Gomes mentioned the Letter, I thought it was time to take another look. So, this past Wednesday morning, we read A Letter from a Birmingham Jail.

First, I had forgotten what a long letter King wrote. As we read aloud his words, I imagine King in prison. I imagine that the solitude of prison life allowed King to stop for some time and collect his thoughts. His life was lived in active passion. Now, all his thoughts and feelings start pouring out. He writes to a group of clergymen who have asked him to take the segregation issue a bit more slowly. Perhaps more politely. To wait for the right time. Perhaps to stay in Atlanta and do his rabble rousing there.

Second, I remembered why I spent part of my time in seminary studying and writing about Dr. King. The Gospel is a prophetic document. The church is about being prophetic. When we become afraid to live out the Gospel imperatives in our lives through words and actions, we diminish ourselves. We diminish the church. And sometimes, we begin to think that the Body of Christ is composed of insiders and outsiders. King speak to this issue with strength and grace.

I am so very proud that the Memorial church community is a place that we can speak to our prophetic calling. We can live into that prophetic calling through words. However, Memorial is a place that embraces St Francis of Assisi's suggestion: Preach the Gospel and if necessary, use words! Thanks be to God for the Memorial community.

Question: Have you ever felt like an outsider when you bring up an issue of social change? Maybe just plain old change? Have you felt like an outsider in Christ's Body, the Church? What does Dr. King's message say to you?

Saturday, May 23, 2009

2009-05-23T04:56:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day Tribute

Give rest, O Christ, to your servants with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting. --The Burial of the Dead, Book of Common Prayer

Today I want to remember a particular saint who died yesterday--the Rev. Fa. Paul Wessinger, SSJE. Paul was am Episcopal priest and a professed member of the Anglican order of monks, the Society of St John the Evangelist. He was my spiritual director for over 10 years. He was a spiritual marker and guide for me. He brought me back to my truest self again and again. The self that God had in mind for me to live into when God created me (see Psalm 139).

When someone that we love dies, it takes us time to figure out how to love them when we see them no longer. For Paul and me, we had some practice at this already. For the past few years, Paul has been deaf. He had to give up spiritual direction. When I made retreats at the monastery in Cambridge, we would see one another, but we had trouble communicating. Eventually, Paul moved to a nursing care facility close to the monastery--where he died in the night Friday morning. He was over 90 years old.

In his prime, Paul was Superior of the Order. He brought the Society to a place of deep inclusion--for ordained women, for ordained gay and lesbians, for those for whom the institutional church was less than welcoming. He continued to bring out the best in me--which, in the end, allowed me to be true to my deepest self. He loved the church yet he challenged the church to go further into Gospel living. He was and is a deep inspiration in my ministry for me again and again. On the day Paul died, he was that deep source of comfort and strength yet again.

As it turns out yesterday was also the day that I received some news that caused me--yet again--to wonder why I have been created the way that I am. I heard news--yet again---that being open about supporting social justice causes and living your life in a way that supports actively those causes continues to cause misunderstanding, exclusion and pain. As the Gospel for Sunday points out, following and then living out the Gospel is not such an easy road. In fact, it will lead to suffering again and again. But how can you be true to yourself and not live out the Gospel? As you live your life, there are times when you realize that the choices you have made for the Gospel exclude you from the very living you believe that God is calling you to do. How do you reconcile that?

That's when I bring Paul into my heart. I imagine him sitting across from me in our room of spiritual direction--a candle lit and an icon of Jesus close by. He is in his black cassock. As I recount the latest story of exclusion, he listens. His face radiates gentleness and love. After I finish there is a moment of silence. And then Paul smiles at me. There is a gleam in his eye. Paul replies: "It is so hard. But what else can you do. I believe this is God's work that you are doing. It is important work. It is the way of love." I leave spiritual direction feeling that I am not alone. That I am loved--just as I am and just as I live. There are so many days that I need Paul Wessinger in my life. He is still with me. He will be with me all along.

This Memorial Day weekend....Who is it that loves you as you are? Who is it that confirms your call in God?

Sunday, May 17, 2009

2009-05-17T17:55:00.001-07:00

Moving Forward

Sing to the Lord a new song*for he has done marvelous things. Psalm 98:1

When we are trying to find meaning as we move forward from one day to the next, we often spend a good deal of energy in the past. We think of decisions that we wish we had made differently or with more forethought. I'm sure the disciples had a good deal of these kind of thoughts after Jesus' death and resurrection. There is a great song in Jesus Christ Superstar entitled "Could We Start Again Please?" That song could be a mantra for many of us.

For years, when asked about my college experience, I would start off by saying that I attended Davidson College. If the conversation continued, I would then add that my first choice of college had been Williams College. Then I would launch into a discussion about how I had applied to Williams early decision and had not been accepted. I then added that I hadn't taken the application seriously, that I had written it in longhand in cartridge pen. Yada..Yada..Yada.. On and on I would go about how I had made mistakes in my application. I would wonder what my life would have been like if I'd been a college student in the northeast.

Not long into the conversation, my good husband would interject that I would never have met him if I had gone to another college. For a while, I would try to argue that I would have met him eventually. After a while, I gave up that line of argument. My experience at Davidson was a wonderful experience in many ways. Why did I spend a good ten years of my life unable to recognize this fact? Why focus on the road not taken?

This morning, I started the sermon with a poem by Carl Dennis called "The God Who Loves You." The poem is in his collection called Practical Gods. I won't quote the whole poem here but here are some pertinent lines:

It must be troubling for the god who loves you

To ponder how much happier you'd be today

Had you been able to glimpse your many futures.

It must be painful for him to watch you on Friday evenings

Driving home from the office, content with your week---

Three fine houses sold to deserving families--

Knowing as he does exactly what would have happened

Had you gone to your second choice for college,

Knowing the roommate you'd have been allotted

Whose ardent opinions on painting and music

Would have kindled in you a lifelong passion

A life thirty points above the life you're living

On any scale of satisfaction.......

The difference between what is

And what could have been will remain alive for him

Even after you cease existing, after you catch a chill

Running out in the snow for the morning paper,

Losing eleven years that the god who loves you

Will feel compelled to imagine scene by scene

Unless you come to the rescue by imagining him

No wiser than you are, no god at all, only a friend

No closer than the actual friend you made at college,

The one you haven't written in months. Sit down tonight

And write him about the life you can talk about

With a claim to authority, the life you've witnessed,

Which for all you know is the life you've chosen.

Who is that friend that you actually know that it's time to write? That's a way to move forward into the future.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

2009-05-10T17:33:00.000-07:00

The Love of God

Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 1 John 4:7-8

One of the greatest truths that I know of is that God is love. And the best way to find God's love is to love one another. This weekend was testament to the love of God at Memorial. On Saturday, we celebrated the life of Judith Mosley, who died a week ago Sunday. It has certainly been an amazing journey of Christian love that brought Judith home to Baltimore from New Mexico. In the short time that she has been back among us, her hospital room was full each day of Memorial visitors. While I was out of town last Sunday, Judith was visited by several folks--one brought communion, one prayed, some talked gently to her, and others sang by her bedside. By then, Judith was non-responsive, but I believe she knew that God's love surrounded her as she made her way home.

On Saturday, the celebration of her life was joyous--with more singing and much festive eating and visiting afterwards. All of Judith's communities came together to remember her and how she brought so many people together that she loved. At Memorial, my Wednesday morning Bible Study has regular attendees that Judith brought to the class. She loved her friends and even though she was frightened at times and had difficult moments, she knew we loved her.

After the funeral, I traveled up to Western Maryland to join some of Memorial's Young Adults on retreat. As we spoke about sabbath and a discipline of prayer, the gathered group realized that they spent their Sabbath together. These busy twenty-somethings spend almost every Sunday meeting up at the 10:30 service and then going to brunch together. Often, they spend the afternoon hanging out while two of the group wait to lead the Memorial youth group on Sunday night. Sometimes they all reconnect for dinner as well. When I asked them what was their Sabbath time--they all said to a person "our Sunday Brunch after church." They went on to add that the Sabbath really does begin with worship and informs the rest of their day. What a lucky group! They find God's love in being together one day a week. Sometimes they let me come along to brunch and it's true---they show what the love of community looks like.

All in all, it was an Eastertide kind of weekend--begun and ended in love. The love of friends in Christ for one another. Alleluia!

Question for the week: What does your Sabbath time look like? Does it involve the love of friends?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

2009-05-06T06:29:00.001-07:00

The Spirit of God

The Spirit of Nakanawa is with you always. From far away cities to distant shores. But nobody else can find it for you. You have to find it for yourself.

The above text is from a song from my summer camp. For eight summers, I attended Camp Nakanawa, a camp for girls on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee. This past weekend, I attended a reunion weekend at camp. As part of the reunion, of course, we sang camp songs. I find it amazing that these songs are blazoned on my heart--I remember ALL the words. As part of the weekend, we ate in the dining hall with all the southern delicacies (grits, biscuits, bacon, sausage). We helped the directors get ready for camp in a few weeks. I weeded gardens and woodburned pine medallions for awards. We hiked on the trail around the lake. In between the rain, I canoed on the lake. There were women in attendance from their early twenties to the late eighties. It was a blast.

As part of the weekend, I was asked to helped plan the church service (so I was still working after a fashion on Sunday morning!). We sang from the old Methodist hymnals that remain all year long in the Wigwam (the gathering hall). Those hymnals still had that familiar musty camp smell. We read Psalm 139--the psalm that is read at Rite 13 service to mark teenagers entering into adulthood. We prayed for all our daughters, the young women who would be coming to camp in a few weeks--biological or not. (We also prayed for the men-husbands and sons as well!) The most moving part of the service was the reflection period. Five former campers from the very eldest to one of the youngest spoke about what camp had meant to them and what they carried from camp into their later lives.

What I realized from the reflections (including my own) is that more than any other community, I learned at this camp what God's love looks and feels like in community. Coming from a family that was not good at expressing emotions or giving loving touches, camp was a whole new ballgame for me from the age of 12. This weekend, I remembered that I had to learn what it was to sit close to another person, to link arms, to hug, laugh and cry together. This weekend, I was amazed at how quickly we all fell back into our camp pattern. I noticed that unlike our usual worlds at home, we sat so closely together at meetings that our shoulders touched. We linked arms to sing songs. We held hands to pray. By Sunday, I realized that much of what I do in my vocation as an Episcopal priest flows directly from the community life of my summer camp. My call is to help to make the love of God present in a community day in and day out. I use what I was given and learned at camp to give back that Spirit of God's love to those I meet in my life as a priest. I came to camp a sad and lonely young girl whose mother had died. A young girl that did not know how to express her loss--or even what that loss really was all about. I left a young women who was given the healing and life-giving love of God who could then give and show that love to others. The Spirit of Nakanawa is the Spirit of God for me.

Where do you find the Spirit of God in community? Is it beyond your church community?

Thursday, April 30, 2009

2009-04-30T06:10:00.000-07:00

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?

Saturday, April 25, 2009

2009-04-25T06:03:00.000-07:00

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!

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

2009-04-22T17:32:00.000-07:00

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.

Second Sunday after Easter---April 19, 2009

2009-04-19T17:31:00.000-07:00

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!

Thursday April 16, 2009

2009-04-16T07:27:00.000-07:00

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?

Wednesday, April 15th

2009-04-15T07:16:00.000-07:00

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?

Easter Monday--April 13, 2009

2009-04-13T07:23:00.000-07:00

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?

Wednesday and Thursday of Holy Week--April 8 & 9, 2009

2009-04-09T05:38:00.000-07:00

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?

Tuesday in Holy Week--April 7, 2009

2009-04-07T17:48:00.000-07:00

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?

Monday of Holy Week---April 6, 2009

2009-04-06T05:36:00.000-07:00

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?

Saturday after Lent V--April 4, 2009

2009-04-04T05:59:00.000-07:00

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?

Friday after Lent V--April 3, 2009

2009-04-03T06:50:00.000-07:00

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.

Wednesday after Lent V--April 1, 2009

2009-04-01T18:13:00.000-07:00

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.

Monday after Lent V--March 30, 2009

2009-03-29T19:27:00.000-07:00

Finding God in the Dark

Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day. Psalm 139

At our parent retreat on Saturday afternoon, we talked about what we found frightening about the dark. When we were little, were we afraid of the dark? Most of us were. On Saturday, we named some things that were frightening about the dark. We were afraid of imaginary types of things--hobgoblins and ghosts and zombies were top of the list. We were also afraid of things that were real--rabid foxes (someone grew up in the country)and burglars (for the city folk). For almost everyone who was afraid of the dark as a child, the number one reason was being all alone and separated from our parents. A light in the hall was a help. A voice responding to our cries was even better. A loving hug that all was well was best of all.

At one time or another in our lives as adults, we wake up at night and can't go back to sleep. Our minds are racing with many thoughts and worries. When we can't sleep, some of us get up, turn the light on and work. Some of us turn the light on and read ourselves back to sleep. Some toss and turn the rest of the night. Some stay in the dark and say a memorized psalm or prayer. I often think that if I just get comfortable once again, I'll go back to sleep. So, I often toss and turn for a while. In my better moments, I remember that God is in the dark night with me. I recite Compline to myself to connect with God--and often I am asleep before I get to the psalm portion of Compline. I also remind myself that when I wake in the night, it is usually because I have overdone myself at work. I try gently to remind myself to take it easy. I imagine that when I do these things, God smiles.

I can't say that I do remember that God is in the night with me every time. Sometimes I just toss and turn and think. When I was a little girl, I was afraid of the dark. I needed a light on in the hall. Sometimes I would cry out and be comforted when my mother answered or, better yet, came to sit on the edge of my bed until I went back to sleep. Now, inner fears can surface in the night. God is there. In the dark. Right there next to me on the edge of the bed. God is there all along.

What do you do when you can't sleep? Can you find God in the dark?

Saturday after Lent IV--March 28, 2009

2009-03-28T06:31:00.000-07:00

Crossing Over Part Two

And leaving the crowd behind, the disciples took Jesus with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still!" Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, "Why are you afraid? Have you still not faith?" And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?" Mark 4: 36-41

In my sermon at the Lenten ecumenical series at Union Baptist on Wednesday, my sermon theme was "crossing over." Now we all cross over thresholds in all through our lives. We learn to walk and walk across the room into our parent's waiting arms. We learn to cross the street. As adults, we cross from one neighborhood to another as we go to work and back home again. Sometimes I wonder to myself how many times I've crossed North Avenue off of 1-83 as I make my way to school and home and church. Crossing over is part of the repetition that brings God's love to us in our ordinary routines.

But then there is a crossing over such as the disciples find with Jesus in Mark's gospel. There is that time when we are called to step into the boat, go out into the wind and waves, and cross over into a place that we fear and dread. Sometimes that's the only way for us truly to trust God. To get in the boat when we least want to get in the boat. A surgery. A death. Leaving a relationship. Confronting the other. Embracing the other.

On Wednesday, I told a story about my time in South Africa and a time that I had to get into the boat, ride the wind and the waves, and cross over into a new way of living. Near St Francis Church in Walkerville, there is an elderly group home called Abbeyfield. During my time, eight proper British ladies lived there. At the back of the property was a one-room shack. In that one-room shack lived Delores--Abbeyfield's maid. I would see Delores when I came to celebrate a monthly Eucharist with the ladies. She would often come in for communion from the kitchen. Then, I didn't see her for a good long time. One day, I received a call from one of the ladies. Would I come and visit Delores--she was back and very ill.

The day I arrived to visit Delores, the ladies were waiting for me. They explained that she had gone home to the Orange Free State (about a day's journey) because she was ill. However, she had come back. Her family had asked her to leave. They had disowned her. Delores had AIDS. As I crossed the yard to visit her, I had to ask Jesus to be with me. AIDS was making its way across South Africa from Durban to Johannesberg slowly. This was my first AIDS visit in Africa. What would the visit bring? I entered the shack. It was dark. I couldn't see a thing. Gradually, I saw a figured huddled uner several blankets on a simple cot. As I came closer, it was Delores. Horribly thin, shaking with fever. She asked for communion. As she took the Body and Blood of Jesus, I noticed her face and mouth were covered in sores. I sat with her and held her hand. There wasn't much to say except pray. Pray for Jesus to ride with her through this storm. After I visited Delores, she died a few days later.

I will always think of Delores as the face of AIDS in Africa. In her suffering, there were many crossing overs. The English ladies of Abbeyfield were asked by Jesus to get in the boat and care for a black woman. They crossed over into a new life and became her only family at the end. Delores had to cross over and come to Abbeyfield to find a home where she could die with dignity and peace. That's what mission is all about --crossing over into a new land. Stepping in the boat when we are ful of faith and when we are fearful. Knowing that Jesus is with us with every waves. Where has God asked you to get in the boat this Lent?

Tuesday and Wednesday after Lent IV--March 24 & 25

2009-03-25T05:25:00.000-07:00

Crossing Over

On that day, when evening had come, Jesus said to his disciples, "Let us go across to the other side." Mark 4:35

I've been praying over this passage for a few days now. It is the passage that I am preaching on at the Lenten Ecumenical Service at Union Baptist on Druid Hill Avenue this noonday. The rest of the passage is about Jesus and disciples in the boat when a great storm arises. The wind lashes at the sails and the waves violently rock the boat. Amidst the clamor and fear, Jesus calmly sleeps in the bottom of the boat. All curled up like a cat in the sun, I imagine, while bedlam and choas are all around him. Finally, the disciples wake him up. "Don't you care about us perishing in this storm?" they ask. Jesus essentially says what he often says---don't be afraid, I am with you, have faith. Then Jesus calmly, deliberately, stills the storm. Everyone arrives on the other side of the sea intact.

My theme for the sermon is "Crossing Over." I'll report tonight on how I actually preached this text and theme. When you read this, think of yourself as the preacher. How would you preach this passage? What immediately comes to mind when you imagine yourself in the boat?

Monday after Lent IV--March 23, 2009

2009-03-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

Our Mission in the World

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; and dust shall be the serpent's food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, says the Lord. Isaiah 65:24-25.

Yesterday evening gave me much food for thought. At our Inquirer's Class, we had a spirited discussion about our role in the world. We've been reading Brian McLaren's book on reclaiming the ancient Christian practices. McLaren argues that three practices are essential to Christian life: the contemplative practice( our individual relationship with God through prayer and silence), the communal practice (our worship life in a gathered community), and our missional practice( our ministry in the world). All three practices are essential to a full life in Christ and inform one another--kind of like the Trinity! (but that's a topic for another day) On the topic of mission, we each shared where we find that we share the love of Christ with another in the world. Responses ranged from working with women in recovery to doing odd jobs for friends and relatives. All were clear signs of mission.
After class, I attended the service for Diocesan Peace in the Middle East which Memorial hosted this month. As part of the reflection, Wendy Shuford read a story about the hardships and injustices at the checkpoints in the Gaza strip. She told a moving story of a Palestinian man who had his leg amputated outside of the Palestinian area. He was coming back to bury his amputated leg in the burial area of Palestine. When he died, he wanted to have his leg buried with his body. He was held up for ten hours at the checkpoint while soldiers determined if the leg held explosives, if the proper papers existed, if the leg really was his leg. During what must have been a horrific experience, someone waited with this man. It was a Jewish grandmother. She waited with him to make sure that he got through the checkpoint to his home with his leg. At the checkpoints in Gaza, there is a ministry of presence in these Jewish grandmothers. Every day, they show up and document ill-treatment and abuse and just plain incompetence at these checkpoint. They are working for peace--one day, one individual at a time.
I am inspired by their story. I wonder if I could state my daily mission in the world so clearly. That will be one of my spiritual inquiries for the week. How do I work for peace and justice each day?

Friday after Lent III--March 20, 2009

2009-03-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

In the in-between

It is now Friday and I am just getting used to being out in Western Maryland. My routine is set for the week. Yet it is time to think about coming back to Baltimore. Like any vacation or time away, it is a time to transition. Much of our life is entering into communities and ways of life, moving back to older communities, and moving on to new ones. There is the transition from family home to school, school to college, college to work, work to retirement. There are family members who move on to eternal life to be replaced by the newborn. There are friends left behind in a move and new friends gained in a new place. Our life is full of deaths and new births in many ways.

I've been thinking quite a lot this week about Judith Mosley. Judith Mosley is a longtime Memorialite who moved to New Mexico a couple of years ago. She left behind several strong communities who supported her day in and day out. Before she had time to establish new ties, she was diagnosed with ALS or Lou' Gehrig's disease. ALS is a neuromuscular disease that has no cure. Judith now would like to spend her last days in Baltimore. She has certainly been in the in-between. This week she was to fly back to Baltimore; however, when the medical team arrived to take her to the airport, it became evident that the disease had progressed to the point where she could no longer sit upright in an airplane. Now, the only way to get Judith home is for her to fly on an air ambulance which is $12,500. As friends try to raise the money to get her to Baltimore, we realize that so many are in the in-between these days. Money worries, health issues, relationship uncertainties. Judith's situation makes all of our in-betweens more pronounced and, at the same time, small by comparison. One thing is certain--it is hard to be at the end of one's journey on earth and be in transition with one's daily surroundings. The spiritual journey is transition enough. Please pray for Judith, her caregivers, and all who love her.

Thursday after Lent III--March 19, 2009

2009-03-19T09:18:00.000-07:00

Waiting

I waited patiently upon the Lord; he stooped to me and heard my cry. Psalm 40:1

Waiting has never been easy. It's something that we all have to learn to deal with on a regular basis. With our new "instant" messaging--e-mails, chats, twittering, we hope that everyone will be available when we need them. When we have an urgent e-mail ( and what we define as urgent is always up for examination), we hope that our e-mail recipient is on-line at that moment, ready with an answer. It's as if the world is just waiting for us and our questions. When we are under a good deal of stress due to time pressures (which are almost unrealistic on occasion) or personal issues, it is easy to get frustrated.

I continue to be transfixed by Kathleen Norris' book on Acedia. In it, she talks about waiting. In particular, she shares a time when she was in charge of keeping financial records for companies. Her new software added amazing feats of organization, yet, in order to save her time as a bookkeeper, she had to wait a few seconds for the computer to do its task. One day, she became frustrated at the wait. She decided to time the wait. The wait was 10 seconds! 10 seconds! There have been instances when I've felt the same way. When you sit down, pause and think about it, it seems ridiculous. Yet who of us hasn't felt that way?

Norris writes about how this has always been the case. When the zippy stage coach was invented, some folks bemoaned the loss of days on horseback or foot--when there was time to smell the roadside flowers or speak to a fellow traveler resting under the tree. The stage coach led folks to expect to get to Philadelphia in one day instead of two. Expectations increased. Frustration with slowness abounded.

When I am in Western Maryland and am working, I do check our Sunday bulletins and publications. I come to the library once a day. Sometimes I don't get an answer right away on a question or two. Sometimes I am not available for a question. Is it really that important? Sometimes I get anxious about my inability to be present at all times, yet is that ever really neceaary for any of us? Communication does work at this mountain pace. I think about my usual week--when I am running between meetings, checking bulletins and goldenrods. Is there a calmer way to live and still get the information out? Is waiting such a bad thing? The prophet Isaiah tells us that those who wait on the Lord renew their strength. Good advice.

Wednesday after Lent III--March 18, 2009

2009-03-18T11:19:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful spring day in March! Welcome the spring by taking advantage of this day in some way. Take a walk, breath in the air. If you are caught in the office all day, make an evening walk a reality. Eat dinner on the patio. Make a quick trip out to spy a star or two. Herald the spring! More tomorrow....I'm going outside!

Tuesday after Lent III--March 17, 2009

2009-03-17T12:58:00.000-07:00

St Patrick's E-Mail Jig

Remember the sabbath day and keep it holy.

Happy St Patrick's Day! Today I find myself in Western Maryland and everyone is wearing green. When I am in Western Maryland, there is a feeling of being in a monastic frame of mind. Our house does not have landline phone service, television service or an internet connection. The cellphone service depends on the weather--and how thick the air is---really! Voicemail messages are delayed for a few hours. At the house, it really does have a sense of being away from it all. I have a sense of Sabbath---and this is because I am more separated from modern technology. I can access it, but I have to make an effort.
If I want to check my e-mail, I have to go to the local library where there is free wireless service. I can work on sermons, letters, teaching outlines and more from home off-line but cannot use the internet. That means that I can only really check my e-mail once a day--if that often. If I had been at home or the office in Baltimore today, I would have checked my e-mail at least twice and probably three times by now. If we are always connected, can there ever be a time of Sabbath? So, whenever I am here, I wonder what it would be if I had a discipline of checking my e-mail once a day---even when in Baltimore. When the e-mail or web is available at all times, it is so easy just to check one more time within the space of an hour or so. Before I know it, time that could be used to research and write or complete a project that takes good concentrated work is gone. Is checking e-mail frequently a sign of acedia or sloth? Sometimes I think it is. A way to procrastinate and keep from the important work at hand.
Do you have a discipline with e-mail that allows you to use its benefits and not get caught in the addiction of constant contact?
Ah well, it's time to leave the library and go home. No more checking in for today. Time for some sabbath.

Monday after Lent III--March 16, 2009

2009-03-16T05:57:00.000-07:00

Urban Amish or Ubermotivated?

His disciples remembered that it was written, "Zeal for your house will consume me." John 2:17

Yesterday's lectionary readings for the Third Sunday of Lent were intense. The Ten Commandments, Paul's famous lines about the cross being a stumbling block, and Jesus turning over the tables in the temple. There was law and judgment bristling in the air. In the midst of the readings was Psalm 19. Lovely Psalm 19 that reminds us that "the law is perfect and revives the soul." Say what?

In my sermon, I decided to argue that, yes indeedy, the law does revive the soul. And here's my angle...the law is essential to combat one of the great temptations of human living...the sin of acedia. Say what times two? What was that word? ACEDIA. According to Kathleen Norris in her recent, intriguing book Acedia and Me, acedia was thought to be the eighth deadly sin---until the powers that be came up with seven. In its Greek root, acedia means "the absence of care." A person afflicted with acedia refuses to care, but, more often than not, is incapable of doing so. Acedia was the great temptation of the ancient mothers and fathers of the desert. It is the great enemy of us all.

It seems to me that acedia can flourish not just in the solitude of self in the desert but in the solitude of self in the modern world. In fact, Norris writes that "acedia is not a relic of the fourth century or a hang-up of some wierd monks, but a force we ignore at our peril...Our busyness can't disguise the suspicion that we are being steadily diminished, not so much living as passing time in a desert of our own devising."

In my sermon, I talked about the ubermotivated--how our blackberries and cells, our twittering and blogging (gulp), our FaceBooking and multitasking--can keep us so busy that we have no time to sift fact from fiction, the important from the unimportant, what we should care about from the irrelevant. How do we know where we should place our zeal and passion if we don't have any space to think about such things? That is assuming that we are not so tired from our hectic lifestyle that we have any energy left to summon up an iota of passion or zeal.

Of course, there is the way of the desert...becoming the urban Amish. I just heard about that term--it is someone who eschews electronic mediums for personal, old-fashioned forms of communication---letter writing, meeting in person. However, I don't think this is totally realistic. First off, you'll still have to deal with acedia because the monks of the ancient desert didn't have any of these tools and still battled the "noonday demon." More importantly, our electronic medium are hugely valuable communication tools. It would be folly on many levels to leave them by the wayside and separate oneself from the world. So...here's the tragic gap topic for this week: What's the middle ground between ubermotivated and urban amish? How do we battle the demon of acedia in this modern age? I think the law and tradition have a gift to give us. That's my blogging topic for the third week of Lent. Stay tuned and tell me what you think.

Friday after Lent II--March 13, 2009

2009-03-13T07:21:00.000-07:00

The Treasures of Nature

Ask the creatures, they will tell you. Job 12

Treasures of the heart are certainly those we love. For me, another deep source of treasure is found in nature. For many cultures, animals are markers of the presence of the Holy Spirit. When I was installed as Rector of Memorial, a bat flew from the rafters, down the center aisle and out the front door during the sermon. I got a call from a colleague the next day that this was a sign of the Holy Spirit. I've had folks share with me that after a loved one died, a bird or animal visited them for a few days...perching on the window or appearing in the yard. These persons were sure it was their loved one saying that everything was going to be all right.

During my sabbatical, I spent a good deal of time on the outdoors deck at our home in Western Maryland. I continue to make that my reading, writing and journaling spot. Beginning with the sabbatical and continuing on until this day, I feel blessed by the frequent appearance of one of God's creatures. One day, I heard a strange buzz near my head as I read on the deck. When I looked up, there was nothing to be seen. I wondered if it could be a bumblebee or another type of insect. But the noise wasn't quite right. Later in the morning, I heard the noise again. This time I was daydreaming so I spied the noise-maker. It was a beautiful green and blue hummingbird. Its tiny wings whirring, the hummingbird flitted up close to me---so close I could touch it--and then whirred away into the trees. I felt that it was a sign from God. I'n not sure what sign...but a sign to me that all was well. The hummingbird immediately made me happy. Over the past three years, the hummingbird makes a regular appearance when I appear on the deck to read. I have never had a bird come so close before. We are friends. Somehow that hummingbird is trying to teach me--what could be the teaching?

In what ways has a creature of God taught you?

Thursday after Lent II--March 12, 2009

2009-03-12T06:04:00.000-07:00

Treasures that do not fade

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Matthew 6:19-21

Here is one of my favorite scripture passages. As we prepared to move to Africa, this passage became my touchstone as we let go of many of our material possessions through yard sales and gifts to friends rather than put our possessions in storage. This past year, we did a similar move as we moved from a large Rectory to a two-bedroom apartment. At some point, as we pondered whether to keep this chair or that box of saved pictures, I thought back to this passage--a passage that allowed us to make that big move to South Africa.

What really is our treasure? You can always ask yourself: if my house caught on fire, what would I save? The closest I have come to my own answer to that question was the evening of the last burglary at our home in South Africa. We were about a month from moving back to the States and were home for a night in the middle of traveling around the country with friends. We went to dinner and when we returned home, we noticed that our back door had been broken. The steel bars that protected the wooden door were lried apart and the wooden door gashed almost in two. As we entered the house, we saw that nothing had been taken. In a flash, we realized that we had come upon the burglars just as they had begun their evening's work. They were surely hiding in the bushes close by. Fear immediately set in. We knew that we could easily become the victims of serious physical crimes. In my heart, all I wanted to do was to get our children away from the situation. Bryan told us to take one car and drive to a parishioners. He would quickly close up the house. We all got to our parishioner's home safely.

The next morning we returned home to find everything gone. Since we had sent our large possessions ahead, there was not much furniture to take. However, all our clothes were gone including my stoles and vestments. My cloth bible cover had been ripped from the bible (I still use that bible as my main bible). Towels, sheets, everything was gone. But in that moment I knew that the most important thing--my treasures--were still with me. Bryan, Jack and Anna were all fine--if a little shaken. In the days right after the burglary, I kept repeating, "Everyone is all right. No one was hurt." In South Africa, too often, burglaries and robberies ended in truly horrific violent crime. I felt blessed.

In this tough economic times, what are your treasures? In a moment when you are forced to choose what to take with you, what would you do? What really matters?

Wednesday after Lent II--March 11, 2009

2009-03-11T18:44:00.000-07:00

The Mighty Leviathan

On the fifth day God said, "Let the waters bring forth living creatures." So the wind awakened the waters into life. Great sea-monsters were born. Gleaming fish swarmed the seas. Winged birds of every kind rose out of the waters. Creeping things crawled from the sea. Wild animals ran free. And the cattle roamed the grasslands. God saw that it was good. Earth was alive with its creatures. And there was evening and morning, creation's fifth day. Translation of Genesis 1 by Philip Newell

Have you ever been fascinated by the Loch Ness Monster? When I was a little girl, there were stories of the great dragon-like sea-creature living at the bottom of the Scottish lake. Like the UFO sightings, there is talk from time to time of something large seen arising on the surface of Loch Ness. Such tales have been around for centuries. Celtic legend recounts that St Columba saw a young boy swimming across the loch (lake) when a great sea monster arose and began swimming after the boy. St Columba rebuked the monster. He does not kill the monster. He does not try to tame the monster. He does his best to keep the monster from using its awesome power for ill instead of good.

We are all fascinated by what lies in the deep--in the dark cave---at the bottom of the well. In Lent, it would be helpful to be fascinated at what lies in the depths of our soul. We'd rather stick to the whereabouts of the Loch Ness monster or Big Foot. What lies in the depths of our souls can be a very powerful force. It can be a force used for good or for ill. It is important that we know what lies there. It is important to confront those parts of ourselves that lie deep inside. For if we do not know the power of our deep, we often are controlled by the power of those memories and feelings. How do we get a handle on this? Is it just to big too handle? Isn't it just better to wonder and marvel about mythic creatures than to wonder and marvel at the mythic creature within?

The power of liturgy--especially the power of Lent and Holy Week--can help us to touch that powerful deep within us. As we move closer to the most sacred week of the Christian year, we can prepare through opening our hearts and souls to God in prayer. That's what the Lenten discipline is really all about--getting in touch with our deep. Just a few minutes of silence or prayer time in the morning or evening can be enough. Coming to Sunday worship is even better. Preparing ourselves to attend the drama of the Holy Week services is a sure bet to touch the deep. Learning to be still before God and opening to God's Spirit allows us to relinquish the death grip we have on the deepest part of ourselves--the deepest part that is most holy and most powerful. The deepest part that we most fear but is the way to wholeness and life.

Is there sometime that you feel in touch with the deep within? Have you felt it within a worship service? Have you felt it in the vastness of God's creation and creatures?

Monday after Lent II--March 9, 2009

2009-03-09T07:09:00.000-07:00

Treasures from the Well

Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel will save it. Mark 8:35-36

Sometimes the times that are most difficult in our lives are the most critical to our spiritual growth. The crosses that we each carry in our lives are strange treasures. Margaret Silf, an Ignatian spiritual writer, talks about "going to the well" of our lives. A well is a place where we find the water that gives us life; yet, a well is dark, deep and frightening. For the Celtic Christians, a well was a sacred place. As Silf says, the well "is the source of life that is only reached by descending into the depths of a deep, dark shaft....To risk the journey to the bottom of the well demands courage. For many of us, that journey into darkness only happens when circumstances force us into an encounter with "rock bottom." Must such an encounter be negative?" (Margaret Silf, Sacred Spaces: Stations on a Celtic Way).

Over my life, I have found that the "well experiences" in my life, the crosses that I am called to bear, have been transformative for me. At first, the experiences seemed only negative. After some time, I find that transformative treasures lie within a time of loss or suffering. This past week is always a difficult week of the year. The first week of March contains the anniversaries of the deaths of both my parents. Each year I have to work hard to fight the feelings of loss and grief--even many years out from the actual events. However, if I can stay especially close to God through prayer--even and especially when I am feeling low--grace happens in a tremendous, miraculous way to bring me hope. This year, on March 7th, the anniversary of my mother's death, I was honored to officiate at the funeral of Anne Irvin.

Anne Irvin is the mother of Anne Madison. Anne Madison is the creative genius behind the Anglican rosary beads. Her mother, Anne, came to Memorial to live with Anne and her husband Greg about five years ago. She has suffered from confusion and frailty. After a slow physical and mential decline, she died last Sunday. Her funeral was a celebration of a life well lived. A life that involved being a single mother, a cellist, a teacher, a weaver. Anne loved Cursillo. Her funeral was a celebration of her life. As Monty Howard sang the Cursillo song "Des Colores," I found myself smiling with joy as I walked down the communion rail. As the sun streamed through the church windows, I realized again that God's love and the love of those we see no longer surrounds us always. I realized that every time I celebrate the life of someone who has died as their parish priest, I am made whole in my own grief and loss just a bit more. Some folks would say: how could you be at a funeral on March 7th? I've realized that a funeral full of joy was the very best place for me to be last Saturday. For those "well" experiences in our lives, sometimes the only place to heal again is to go to the well. The place of deep feeling. The place of deep loss. To realize that at "rock bottom," there is God's love.

How do you find a place to heal from loss? What do you do to find hope and the love of God on an anniversary of a loss?

Friday after Lent I--March 6, 2009

2009-03-07T05:21:00.000-08:00

Herald the Spring

In the rising of the sun and its setting,
in the whiteness of the moon and its seasons,
in the infinity of space and its shining stars
you are God and we bless you.
May we know the harmony of heaven in the relationship of the earth
and may we know the expanse of its mystery within us.
from Philip Newell's Celtic Treasures

In the midst of Lent, the heralds of spring are here. On my day off, it was time to be outdoors. The first bike ride of the spring was calling. Out to the NCR trail. It was hard going with snow and ice melting and the bike tires glumping in the mud. But I was outside on the bike! All creation was out as well. Especially the birds. A bright red cardinal flew across my path. The sparrows were building their nests. A hawk flew in the tree above me. The woods were aflush with song and all manner of chirpping. I felt a new energy. Spring is here.

Now I know that there will be more cold weather--even a late March snowstorm. But all God's creatures know that spring is around the corner. Even the community cats at Clipper Mill are out and about. There was great excitement in the apartment when my dog Futhi and cat Mr Kitty spied the black cat in the woods hunting for game. There is hope in the air when the creatures of God stir. Even in Lent.

Being outdoors always brings me back to myself--the person God has created me to be. And that's certainly in keeping with the Lenten journey. On this beautiful March weekend, spend some time outside and see if that is true for you. Here's a Mary Oliver poem to get you going:

Such Singing in the Wild Branches

It was spring
and finally I heard him
among the first leaves--
then I saw him clutching the limb

in an island of shade
with his red-brown feathers
all trim and neat for the new year.
First, I stood still

and thought of nothing.
Then I began to listen.
Then I was filled with gladness-
and that's when it happened.

when I seemed to float,
to be, myself, a wing or a tree--
and I began to understand
what the first was saying,

and the sands in the glass
stopped
for a pure white moment
while gravity sprinkled upward

like rain, rising,
and in fact
it became difficult to tell just what it was that was singing--
it was the thrush for sure, but it seemed

not a single thrush, but himself, and all his brothers,
and also the trees around them,
as well as the gliding, long-tailed clouds
in the perfectly blue sky--all, all of them

were singing.
And, of course, yes, so it seemed,
so was I.
Such soft and solemn and perfect music doesn't last

for more than a few moments.
It's one of those magical places wise people
like to talk about.
One of the things they say about it, that is true,

is that, once you've been there,
you've been there forever.
Listen, everyone has a chance.
Is it spring, is it morning?

Are there trees near you,
and does your own soul need comforting?
Quick, then--open the door and fly on your heavy feet;the song
may already be drifting.---from Owls and Other Fantasies by Mary Oliver

Thursday in the First Week of Lent---March 5, 2009

2009-03-05T16:52:00.001-08:00

A Bathrobe Day of Prayer

And Esther the queen, seized with deathly anxiety, fled to the Lord; she took off her splendid apparel and put on the garments of distress and mourning, and instead of costly perfumes she covered her head with ashes and dung, and she utterly humbled her body, and every part that she loved to adorn she covered with her tangled hair. Esther 14:1

The weekday Eucharistic liturgy gives us a reading from the Book of Esther today for the lesson from Hebrew Scripture. In fact, it is from the Apocrypha because these verses are thought to be a later Greek addition to the Book of Esther. The passage is about the power of prayer. For those familiar with the Jewish feast of Purim, Purim recounts Queen Esther's courageous intervention to save the Jewish people from a pogrom during the time of the Persian King Xerxes. Esther was a powerful women of God!

When I read these verses, I am reminded of what it feels like to have a very bad day. When the children were little, we used to read the book Alexander's Very Bad, Terrible, Awful Day to them. I don't think that's the exact title, but you get the idea. The description of Esther describes the aftermath of an Alexander kind of day...those days that you just don't want to get out of bed....because you have feeling that it is about to be one of those days yet again. Or you've just had one of those days. Or maybe you've had one of those weeks. Your car has a flat tire. You can't get the work done you need to get done because you have to call the computer company and stay on hold to get help with your non-functioning computer. There is a snow day and you have no babysitter. You know the drill.

The result is this: You wake up after the terrible and awful day or week and ....You don't want to get dressed. You don't want to take a shower. You will not answer the phone. You've had it. It's hard to imagine that this is an ancient way of prayer. But maybe it's something to think about....maybe, just maybe, a day when we hole up at home in our bathrobe might be very conducive to prayer. I know it's also conducive to a bowl of ice cream and daytime tv....but it could be conducive to prayer. No answering the phone. No worrying about appearances. Just lying on the sofa---and instead of popcorn and a movie---a time of quiet and prayer. Just you and God. God doesn't mind the bathrobe or the bad hair. God is just glad you have tuned into prayer.

What's your solution to a very bad, terribly, awful day? Try bathrobe and God.

Wednesday after Lent I--February 4, 2009

2009-03-04T05:05:00.000-08:00

Gather the children!

Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee? Then he will answer them, "truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me." Matthew 25:44-45

As I continued to struggle with finding my way to God during my twenties and thirties, I found a home at St Paul's Episcopal Church in Alexandria. The way that St Paul's welcomed me was to baptize my son. In 1988, my son Jack was born after a tumultuous year when we lost my father and Bryan's father within months of one another. After my father's funeral at Christ Church, Alexandria, I knew--just knew--that I needed a new spiritual home. A spiritual home for myself as an adult and parent. I called St Paul's. It wasn't convenient--since I wasn't a member. I didn't know what being a member meant---and I had been an Episcopalian all my life!!! The rector and the staff made it possible for me to have Jack baptized there. That became the beginning of my renewed journey towards God.

More than that, as Jack grew and Anna was born, I found that St Paul's provided a spiritual home for my children as well. Their nursery and Sunday School was always open, vibrant and ready to receive my children with care and open arms. I never for a moment worried that Jack and Anna were not being fed while I was in church or adult education.

I do believe that when Jesus talks about feeding the hungry and welcoming the stranger, he is speaking about all of us at one time of another. On the Vestry, we've spent a good time talking about how to grow the parish to ease our deficit. The best way to grow a parish is to tend to its families with youth and children. I have been doing a good bit of praying and pondering our commitment to children and youth at Memorial Church. We have a great tradition of serving the least of our society through our Samaritan Community outreach. However, I don't think we've been as committed to our children and youth. In fact, I've come to the conclusion that if I were not your rector and my children were younger, I probably would not come to Memorial---because of the Sunday School program. That is really and truly difficult for me to say. Regardless of how much I resonated with the values of the Memorial community, I would probably find myself wanting a larger, more dedicated program for my children. I'd want my children to learn the Bible stories of the church as well as the traditions. I want them to have the opportunity to sing in a junior choir. I'd want a youth program that offered outreach mission trips and pilgrimages. As a young parent, I would probably not have the energy to take on that program and lead it into a new place. However, those are the pieces that I would be looking for in a church for that stage of my life.

As I've been led to remember how I was led back to a spiritual home to come closer to God, I remember how important for the community to be a place that valued my children. I wonder how we can create that place for our families at Memorial? Ideas? Comments?

First Monday after Lent I-- March 2, 2009

2009-03-02T08:09:00.001-08:00

Standing in the Tragic Gap--Looking inside

Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. Mark 1:14

As we enter the first full week of Lent, the movement of spiritual inquiry leads inward to self. As Lent progresses, we begin to look outwards into our community and world. However, we start with ourselves. In yesterday's sermon, I spoke about "standing in the tragic gap." This phrase is the brainchild of Parker Palmer. In his article in the recent Weavings magazine, Parker gives us a definition of what this means:

To live in this world, we must learn how to stand in the tragic gap with faith and hope. By "the tragic gap" I mean the gap between what is and what could and should be, the gap between the reality of a given situation and an alternative reality we know to be possible because we have experienced it." (Parker Palmer, the Borken-Open Heart: Living with Faith and Hope in the Tragic Gap) in Weavings, Volume XXIV, Number 2, March/April 2009)

When we talk about the tragic gap, the first place to start is with ourselves. There is always the self we hope to be and the self that we are. Most days, when we get that uncomfortable feeling that we are not living into the life to which we were called, we do anything and everything to ignore that feeling. We get busy---we watch tv, we read the paper, we do some busywork, we clean house. Some of us reach for a drink or a bowl of ice cream. Some of us look for the answer in another person's body or life. All these movements are for naught for the answer lies within.

This is the step that most of us don't want to take in Lent--the step into the darkness of self. In his classic Let Your Life Speak, Palmer talks about his lifelong struggle and judgment of institutional academia. Of this struggle he says this:

My fear of failing as a scholar contained the energy I needed to catapult myself out of the academy and free myself for another kind of educational mission. But because I could not acknowledge my fear, I had to disguise that energy as the white horse of judgment and self-righteousness. It is an awkward face, but it is true--and once I could acknowledge that truth and understand its role in the dynamics of my life, I found myself no longer embarassed by it. eventually, I was able to get off that white horse and take an unblinking look at myself and my liabilities. This was the step into darkness that I had been trying to avoid--the darkness of seeing myself more honestly that I really wanted to.....Here, I think, is another clue to finding true self and vocation: we must withdraw the negative projections we make on people and situations---projections that serve mainly to mask our fears about ourselves--and acknowledge and embrace our own liabilities and limits." (Parker Palmer, Let Your Life Speak, pp. 28-29, emphasis supplied)

That's the first movement of Lent. To look inside at our own darkness, acknowledge it, and so move forward with a clearer understanding of who we are as a child of God. Beloved, limited as a human being in some way, but glorious in particular gifts. We make this movement continually as we grow in Christ. One of the major times that I made this movement was in my struggle with the law (see earlier blogs!). The best clue to finding that darkness in self is to look where you are most judgmental of other people or situations. Palmer found it in his frustration and anger at the politics of academia. I found it in my attitude towards those on Law Review and big corporate firms. Where do you find you are the most judgmental? Start there and go deeper.

Saturday, February 28--Made of God

2009-02-28T05:55:00.000-08:00

Made of God

So God created hymankind: in the image of God he created them. Genesis 1:27

Yesterday evening, eleven Memorialites and friends traveled to St James', Monkton to hear Philip Newell speak about Celtic Spirituality. Philip Newell was formerly the Warden of the Iona Community in Scotland and currently is a retreat leader and writer who spends time in Edinburgh, Scotland and Casa del Sol at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico. In a far-ranging talk on the Celtic ways, his words were a perfect beginning to a Lenten journey to know and embrace oneself.

Instead of seeing the human condition as "fallen," the Celtic tradition honors the divine that lives at the heart of the human condition. As Julian of Norwich said, we are "made of God, not by God." Newell spoke about how the doctrine of original sin made popular by the work of Augustine has done much damage to humanity and the world throughout human history. For centuries, certain Christian traditions make us feel unworthy in so many unhealthy ways. We feel so unworthy that the very thought of undertaking a Lenten discipline of self- study seems oppressive. Instead of bringing us closer to God, we feel even further away. The Celtic tradition gives us another way of seeing the human relationship to God. Instead of being "saved" by God's grace, Celtic father Pelagius says that "the medicine of grace reconnects us to ourself" and thus to the divine within. This is the way I approach Lent--as a way to reconnect to God, not as a way to beat myself up further for repeated shortcomings.

More on this tomorrow in the Sunday sermon. Pentitence is not about self-loathing, but about turning to what is deepest and first in us as humans--the beauty and love of God. Once we discover that we are made in the image of God, we have the strength to turn away from all those places in our lives that separate us from the love of God.

Text: Genesis 1:27
Pondering: Has Lent been a place of self-loathing for you?

Friday after Ash Wedneday--Becoming Myself

2009-02-27T07:02:00.000-08:00

Becoming Myself

No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. Neither is new wine put into old wineskins; if it is, the skins burst, and the wine is spilled, and the skins are destroyed; but new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved. Matthew 9:16-17

The initial "threshold" movement of Lent is to move inward. Beginning with Ash Wednesday and into the early weeks of Lent, we are invited to go deeper into our own self--the glories and the defeats. The places that we shine with God's light and love and the places where we turn away from God.

In her poem, "Now I Become Myself," May Sarton writes these lines:

Now I become myself.
It's taken time, many years and places.
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people's faces....

The time of Lent always coincides with three important anniversaries in my life: my birthday and the anniversaries of both my parents' death. This time of year, I spend a good deal of time remembering my parents and assessing where I find myself with another year under my life belt. As I look back over the years, I know that I have worn my parents' faces in many parts of my life. One face that has dominated my vocational life is the face and life of my father.

After my mother's death when I was just entering my teenage years, my father and I deepened what was already a strong bond. As a little girl, I thought my father was the greatest thing on earth. As a railroad lawyer, he spent his workweeks in Chicago. I only saw him on the weekends. On the weekends, I was his shadow. I got up early so I could eat breakfast with him--imitating his eating style of "get it done quickly." I followed him around as much as I could in the garden. I would read nearby as he settled into his comfortable chair for an afternoon read and nap. Some evenings, we would dance to the soundtrack of "Around the World in Eighty Days" on the hi-fi. The best treat in the whole world on summer Saturdays was to climb on the tractor with Daddy and ride along as he mowed the seven acres of grass.

When my mother died, he became even more important in my life. Not only was he a great weekend companion, he was my rock and shield. I depended on him in ways I still cannot properly articulate. About that time, I decided that I wanted to become a lawyer--like my father. This dream continued throughout high school and into college. When I came to my senior year of college, it was time to start law school applications. That's when I hit the first snag. I couldn't really answer the question in print or voice: Why do you want to become a lawyer? Nothing there.

When I arrived at law school in the fall of 1980, I did not have the usual glee and excitement that I always had during the first week of school. I was out-of-kilter in more ways than one. Once classes started, I could not warm to the legal way of thinking. I never warmed to the legal way of thinking. Through three years of law school, a job in a law firm, and another year of tax law school, I could not get a handle on the law in a way that satisfied me. I could do it. I did not love it. I had no passion for it. For more than 10 years, I vocationally wore my father's face. My mind could not recognize this fact. My deep self knew all along.

It took my father's death in 1988 to realize that I was living a life not my own. Shortly after his death, I realized that I no longer wanted to practice law. I was at a threshold point in my law career--about to leave my clerkship at the Tax Court and go back to private practice or enter government service. I remember the day the reality of my life came rushing towards me. I was at an interview lunch at a swanky restaurant on K Street in Washington D.C. with the partners in a tax boutique firm. As they asked me questions such as "What would excite you about being with our firm?" I realized that I had nothing to say. I was not excited. It was like that essay question on the law school application about 10 years back: Why do you want to be a lawyer? I had nothing to say both times, because truly that was not my soul's calling. That day on K Street, I was 30 years old and I had no idea what my soul's calling was. On a Lenten journey that lasted a few years, I was to find out that God knew. God knew all along. I just had to turn toward God and with God, go deep within. That was the key to opening my deep self. To becoming my true self that God knew and loved from the time that I was born.

Text: Matthew 9:10-17
Question: What faces have you worn in your life that are not your own? This Lent, is it time to turn closer to God and together see how you can remove a mask and uncover your deepest self?

Choose Life---Thursday after Ash Wednesday

2009-02-26T06:22:00.000-08:00

Choose Life

These are the words the Lord commanded Moses to speak to the people: "I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil. ...I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse; therefore choose life, that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying his voice, and cleaving to him." Deuteronomy 30:15, 20

Sometimes you just know when God is talking to you. It doesn't happen very often in own's life. But sometimes, you just know. This passage for today's meditation is one of those critical verses of scripture for me personally. In fact, I think this passage saved my life.

In the sermon at the Tri-Church service at Corpus Christi last night, I spoke about Parker Palmer's own spiritual crisis in his early thirties. He speaks about the experience in his excellent book Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation. At some point in his early thirties, he read the line from William Stafford's poem "Ask Me." The line that seared his soul was this: Ask me whether what I have done is my life. That line changed his life. Palmer would probably say it saved his life.

This passage from Deauteronomy did the same for me. It saved my life by showing me the way to healing--not only in my body but in my vocation and soul. I heard this passage read on Sunday morning on a hot summer July morning in 1989 at St Paul's Church, Alexandria. It had a been a wonderful and terrible two years. In 1987, my father-in-law died of a sudden heart attack while my father was in the hospital receiving a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. In March 1988, my father died. In November of that year, my son Jack was born. In April of 1989, Jack was baptized and I found myself in the hospital with gallbladder surgery. After the surgery, I could not get well. At first, I thought I was just tired from having a new baby and no sleep. One day, I found I did not have the energy to walk a city block. Something was very wrong. I didn't know what to do. It felt like my whole world was in a shambles. My life didn't feel like my life anymore at all. I should be enjoying my new son. I wondered if I was slowly dying. Would I leave my son motherless? I didn't know what else to do. I went to church.

In 1989, I could count the number of times on one hand that I had been to church in 15 years--and that included my father's funeral and my son's baptism. I had lost my way to church as a teenager. But without my father's strong presence in my life, I didn't know where else to go. So, I showed up on Sunday morning. And Deuteronomy was the first reading right out of the box. I put before you death and life--choose life. Choose life. That is all I wanted to do. Mysteriously, that passage seemed to change me that day. I realized that I wasn't alone in this struggle for health. God was with me. I knew it that day. I've known it ever since.

In the weeks after that Sunday, I was diagnosed with a thyroid condition that was easily remedied. I regained my strength. I didn't go back to church the next Sunday. But that fall, I did. And I signed up for a Bible Study course and...well, I kept right on going. In a year, I had left tax law (where I was miserable) and was in the process for ordination in the Episcopal church. All along, from that point, choose life was my mantra--God speaking in my life.

I can't tell you the number of times that I come back to Choose Life as a mantra. Life continues to throw the choice of life and death in our path. It is a continual process of choosing life. Again and again and again. I am so glad that God as Holy Spirit somehow nudged me that July Sunday to go to church. Just when I was at the lowest point of my life, God was there. And God spoke in the words of Deuteronomy.

Today: What you are doing today--is this your life? The way that gives you life? Begin to wonder with God on that question. How do you choose life for YOU?

Text for today: Deuteronomy 30: 15-20

Ash Wednesday--The Threshold to Lent

2009-02-24T06:29:00.000-08:00

Today is Ash Wednesday and today we stand at the threshold of Lent. Will we cross the threshold and enter into this season fully? How do you enter Lent fully? The word that comes to me this year when I think of Lent is the word "liminal." The word "liminal" comes from the Latin word limin or "threshold." Liminal means "a barely perceptible, barely sensory threshold." Liminal is "an in-between state." Lent has such a way about it.

The Ash Wednesday liturgy is a service that recognizes the liminal. The service begins simply and seems to be as usual--the readings and a homily. Then the threshold moment comes. We are invited to "the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance, by prayer, fasting, and self-denial, and be reading and meditating on God's Holy Word." (Book of Common Prayer, p. 265). We are then invited to receive the sign of the cross in ashes on our forehead as we hear the words: "remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." A humble threshold moment. A moment where in the midst of life, we find death.

As the service moves forward, we repent of our sins in a more considered way in the Litany of Repentence and in the recitation of Psalm 51, and then we turn, even on this somber day, to celebrating the Lord's Supper. In our tri-Church service tonight, instead of Eucharist, our three congregations will come forward once again--to have our hands anointed to go out into the world and serve God. Even in the midst of death, we live. Another threshold crossed.

Psalm 51:7 reads: "for behold, you look for truth deep within me." In truth, we all are moving from death to life and back again over and over again in our lives. Sometimes that fact is imperceptible. Sometimes we do everything we can to ignore this condition. Lent is the time that we stare this fact of "death in life, life in death" squarely in the face. At the base of everything we do as humans, this very basic truth lies deep within. This very basic truth is the cause of so much heartache and suffering. This basic truth is our holy joy.

Where are you on the threshold of life and death this Lent? Take a look--or better yet, experience--the Ash Wednesday liturgy on p. 264 of the Prayer Book as well as Psalm 51. What deeper truth about your life is God nudging you to look squarely in the face this Lent?