To everything there is a season

 This morning, one of the readings in the daily office was one of my favorite passages in the Bible:

There is a time for everything,
     and a season for every activity under the heavens:
  a time to be born and a time to die,
     a time to plant and a time to uproot,
 a time to kill and a time to heal,
     a time to tear down and a time to build,
  a time to weep and a time to laugh,
     a time to mourn and a time to dance,
  a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
     a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
 a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,
 a time to tear and a time to mend,
     a time to be silent and a time to speak,
 a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

When I was in college I had one of these rectangular posters of these verses in calligraphy. It moved with me to three dorm rooms and one apartment, and somewhere after I moved to St. Louis, it disappeared.

In these last few weeks, I have experienced all of these different times, it seems. A friend who just had a long-anticipated baby lost someone close to her just a few days later. The love for her child is taking root here in the midst of spring. I thought about this as I worked in my garden uprooting dead stumps of plants and some strange weed to which I am apparently allergic. I worked at killing this weed as well as the Chinese honeysuckle and this huge crop of cottonwood and pecan tree shoots and milkweed vines that overwhelm my yard with the least relaxation of vigilance.

It is the same way with my heart. Just as with many other people, I carry so many scars and weaknesses from my childhood, from the times I have been hurt, by my tendency to anger, by my impatience, by my arrogance and hubris-- there is so much from which I still need to heal, and so much that I have done that I need to endeavor to heal in penance and regret for losing sight of how I SHOULD think and act. I am particularly prone to being afraid of taking really big risks for fear of being rejected. And yet, I am called to do these. The one who loves me most of all calls me to be the very best me I can be, and when I fail in that, who knows how that affects those who see me stumble?

I need to tear down the walls I erect around my heart, especially those walls I place between myself and God. I need to build up my trust in the goodness of those around me as a reflection of God's love. There are times when I have wept, when instead I could have been laughing-- my mother recently gave me a very sentimental possession which had belonged to my father, who has been gone now for over 6 years, and at first, I wanted to put it as far away from me as possible, since touching it reminded me of the day I lost my dad all over again. Another of my dear friends lost her mother this winter, and she is sorting through the accumulated treasures of a life that lasted nearly 100 years. Imagine the things that had happened during that time!

One of the things her mother had kept was my wedding invitation that I had sent her nearly 24 years ago. It was so well-preserved, and the fact that she actually went to my wedding and stood up for me is still a memory that I will always treasure, especially since my only grandmother-like figure, my step-grandmother, was unable to be supportive of me on that day. But my friend's mother, mother-in-law, and step-grandmother were there for me. What a blessing! What treasured memories of their love do I still have, and if people like that love you, nothing can really be as dreadful as all that. We all move from mourning what we have lost to celebrating what we have at least had. And I have had the love of all these wonderful people in my life.

There is a season for everything. Everything but love, which endures every moment, and is the purest sign of God's amazing, uplifting presence with all of us.

Waiting. Not abiding.

I am not by nature a patient person. I am not very patient even when I try to be. This is something I constantly try to work on, because I am a teacher and a mother and a human being, and in all three of these categories one should treat others with love and forbearance.

I am also an impulsive person. If I want coffee, I don't want it in two weeks. I want it now (I know that sounds like that Violet girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but oh, well). I just read on facebook that Shawn Colvin's new album is out, and bang! there I go to iTunes because it has been oh, so long since Shawn has put out an album of new material (I am listening to it right now as I write this). I first test-drove my current car on Tuesday, and on Thursday, we bought it. Now, we had been planning for the purchase of a car for months and months, but the actual decision to pull the trigger was quick.

I do not wait well. But in my spiritual life, the boundaries of which I am seeking ever to expand further and further into all of the compartments of my life, I am especially working on a very important attitude: abiding. I think of abiding as being present in the moment, still and attentive. It's related to something our Buddhist friends do when they practice mindfulness.

We fill our lives so full with activities, and so many of these activities detract from our quality of life, especially that part that could be spent in contemplation and adoration of the Holy One. If I pay attention to the presence of the Holy Spirit, I will not need to be aware of the fact that I am waiting. Instead, I am abiding with She who brings comfort and wisdom. Alleluia!

Of Babel, Rabble, and Community

"Now the whole earth had one language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, 'Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.' And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, 'Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.' 

"The Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which mortals had built. And the Lord said. 'Look, they are one people, and they all have one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and confuse their language there, so that they will not understand one another's speech.' So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore it was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth; and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth."--- Genesis 11:1-9




"When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.


Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.


Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. 


Amazed and astonished, they asked, 'Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs- in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power."--- Acts 2:1-11

These are some of the readings some of us heard on Pentecost Sunday. Some of us heard something slightly different. I don't think I have ever seen our priest move so fast without a bicycle beneath him. Ha!

The politics of division

This Sunday, Pentecost Sunday, we will hear the story of the Tower of Babel and the gift of the Holy Spirit to the apostles, resulting in them speaking in a myriad of languages.

We are hearing these readings when the Anglican Communion still struggles to remain unified. We are hearing these passages when our country is more divided than ever-- by race, by class, by gender, by sexual orientation, by religion, by politics. Unity is a great dream, but unity is also at the same time a great challenge.

The problem is, we are often not honest with ourselves when we say we want unity. We want people to be unified with us through agreeing with us and validating our position. We want unity to occur when others move to US, rather than being forced to move to THEM. We want unity on our own terms.

Which is why we never get it at all.

We say we want unity, yet we worship individualism. Note, I said "individualism," not "individuality." "Individuality" is the reservoir of various characteristics which make us unique from others. "Individualism" is the idea that the interests of the individual to act independently are of paramount importance. A companion word in the political cant of the times is the word "liberty."

 Those who currently like to imagine that their liberty is being taken away by nebulous forces are fond of quoting our founding fathers, especially Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry. Jefferson famously said, "The tree of liberty must be refreshed with the blood of patriots and tyrants." What people do not understand is that he said this attempting to justify the most horrifying excesses of the French Revolution. When this quote is used today, it lacks this context. For instance, many people also do not remember that this is the saying that was sprawled across the chest of Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber, when he was captured after killing and maiming hundreds, all in the name of his own "liberty" which he claimed the federal government was attacking. Patrick Henry, of the famous "Give me liberty, or give me death!" exclamation, was a slaveowner, as was Jefferson, which certainly was understood by those of our founding generation as being the absolute opposite of liberty. And neither Henry nor Jefferson ever actually served militarily during the Revolution, greatly reducing the chances that the blood to be spilled in defense of liberty would be their own. I am not saying that they were not great patriots, but their words did not always match their deeds, as is so often the case for all of us.

In modern society today, we see the same people bemoaning the alleged crisis in "morality" also trumpeting the right of the individual to trump any consideration for one's fellow human beings or citizens. This hypocrisy is generated by a failure to think about what these terms actually mean.  Questions of morality only arise when one lives in the society of others. Further, these questions almost always arise when one is seen to be violating the community standards of morality by expressing one's individuality in a way that is seen as being detrimental in some way to the functioning of the group. You might even say that those accused of immorality are actually living in truth to their individuality.

The handmaidens of unity are compromise, civility, and kindness toward one another. Vitriol and hatred are poison to society. It is time we remembered this, both in the affairs of our Anglican Communion and in our political discourse.

Of Communion and Covenant

With General Convention coming up, the topic of the Anglican Covenant is on everyone's minds, it seems. Even though the Church of England itself has shot the thing down pretty resoundingly, I think that the advice from our Scottish friends cited in the recent Episcopal Cafe article is wise. Kelvin over at What's in Kelvin's Head? writes:

I was surprised though recently to hear from American friends who were saying that they thought that the US based Episcopal Church was likely to affirm the first three sections of the Covenant but not the fourth section. The fourth section is the one that deals with discipline – the ability to throw a naughty Province off the councils, networks and committees and what have you that make up the Anglican Communion’s ways of working.
I was surprised because it meant that there were no apparent fears about the first section, and it is that which I think is the more dangerous. This may be because theological statements are sometimes read differently by different people.
In Scotland we used to get people saying that we should affirm the first three sections but not the fourth section only up until the time when we really got down to talking about it. At last year’s General Synod it became apparent that some of us were very troubled by section one – particularly because affirming it would mean that once again we would have to affirm the Thirty-Nine Articles.
Now there are all kinds of reasons why affirming the Thirty-Nine Articles isn’t a good idea. I was on my feet a year ago saying that coming as I do from a city troubled by Catholic-Protestant sectarian tensions, the last thing we need to be doing is affirming once again the anti-catholic Thirty-Nine Articles. And that isn’t even to begin to deal with the things that those articles condemn which some of us hold dear in our worship still.
Now, the US-based Episcopal Church has the Thirty-Nine Articles in its Book of Common Prayer and we in Scotland don’t. (We did for a bit but we don’t affirm them any more). The Americans cope with them, I think, by thinking of them as Historical Documents – things that show us where we have come from but don’t necessarily regard them as things which should guide our faith for today.
Not so the Church of England. Or at least, not so all of the Church of England.
The release this week of a long denunciation of same-sex marriage from the Church of England Evangelical Council should give the Americans pause for thought before they affirm any part of the Covenant which promotes the Thirty-Nine Articles. Anyone reading it will be in no doubt that the Thirty Nine Articles are no mere historical document in some parts of the Church of England. For some, they are the Thirty-Nine Weapons of the Church of England in this long and tiresome culture war in which all the bullets are theological concepts ad all the collateral damage seems to be in terms of souls lost to the church and wholesome relationships between gay folk traduced by the loud, the ignorant and the shallow.
The US based church should make no assumptions at all about the nature in which the documents listed in the first section of the proposed Anglican Covenant are read in other parts of the world.
I remain convinced that we need to say No to the Covenant and say an unequivocal Yes to the Anglican Communion. And that No needs to be a clear and deliberate rejection of all the sections of the Covenant. Our American friends put themselves at some risk from those who would do them harm if they don’t understand this.

This is so well-stated, and it brings up a point I think many of us overlooked in our anger over what seemed at least to me to be an attempt to punish the Episcopal Church for disagreements about human sexuality and what that means for how we treat our brothers and sisters in Christ. Kelvin makes a good point that even removal of the most obviously punitive part of the Anglican Covenant still makes it possible to use any instrument derived from the Covenant as it now is into a punitive weapon of division. 

As Grand Moff Tarkin said to Senator Leia Organa in Star Wars, "You're far too trusting."

Reports of our death have been greatly exaggerated

There has been some interesting discussion while I have been away about the demise of Church, especially the flavor known as Episcopal, around the blogosphere. I was challenged, in a good way, by this discussion over at the Episcopal Cafe, in a discussion of a "manifesto by Crusty Old Dean (aka Tom Ferguson, dean of Bexley Hall). Here is a link to the original post.

But one of the points that has been discussed all over the place is restructuring the Episcopal Church. Crusty Old Dean challenges the idea of restructuring in order to preserve the status quo, and challenges us to think outside the box. I am still digesting this.

But for all of the criticism of some Episcopal parishes as being comfy "clubs" (the word "country" just aches to be inserted there, doesn't it?), I also have to notice that those congregations in American Christendom that are showing phenomenal growth have gotten there exactly by functioning as clubs. I am thinking of those loosely- denominational or non-denominational mega- mini malls for Jesus that sport climbing walls for the kiddies and the prosperity gospel behind toothy grins and viciously shellacked hair. It seems those congregations are reeling them in by focusing on the personal relationship with Jesus over engagement in the world at large. All this in a supposedly "post-Christian" era, too.

For me, I am deeply concerned about my place in a society in which the surest path to power is trumpet one's mediocrity as a lure for the votes of everyday folks; in which the politics of jealousy, envy, and division are the easiest ways to rally masses to one's cause; in which self-proclaimed identity is more important than achievement or attitude.

It is obvious that there safe many parts of the Christian message that are out-of-step with the temper of the times. But is that necessarily a bad, or more importantly, permanent, situation?

If I believed that, I would certainly despair.

No, I believe our message is one this world is literally DYING to hear. Is it really so bad to be counter-cultural in times such as these? Yet how can we claim any sort of traction against dwindling membership numbers so that we can get the message of God out into the world that certainly needs it desperately?We just have to find a way to make ourselves heard among the din of the snake-oil salesmen who promise that salvation is to be had through selfishness, that love of self is the path to love of God. We just need to figure out how to do it. But it is obvious that the path to reclaiming the gospel message of love must begin with mission, mission, mission, something with which the Episcopal Church has been historically been quite uncomfortable.

This post is not finished. I put it out there anyway.

I'm baaaaccckk....

For those who have been wondering, I have spent the last month immersed in preparing my students for their advanced placement exam, dealing with some family schtuff with my mom, and being driven insane by other family members. Sorry for the drop-off. Add in that blogging from an iPad, which I have been using most often due to the impending death of my laptop, is not the easiest thing in the world, and it adds up to me being a bad blogger.

I will try to be better now that I can take a breath and the school year is almost over.

Midweek Poem 8: Love and forgetting

Love

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
   I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
   Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
   I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
   Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
   Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
   I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
   Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects. 

--------------------------------------------------Pablo Neruda

Stone of Witness

"So Joshua made a covenant with the people at Shechem, committing them to follow the decrees and regulations of the LORD. Joshua recorded these things in the Book of God's Instructions. As a reminder of their agreement, he took a large stone and rolled it beneath the terebinth tree beside the Tabernacle of the LORD. Joshua said to all the people, "This stone has heard everything the LORD has said to us. It will be a witness to testify against you if you go back on your word to God."--Joshua 24: 25-27

"See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone
a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation;
the one who relies upon it
will never be stricken with panic.
I will make justice the measuring line
and righteousness the plumb line;
hail will sweep away your refuge, the lie,
and water shall overflow your hiding place."-- Isaiah 28: 16-17


"When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome brought spices, so that they might go and annoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, 'Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?' When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed.

"But he said to them, 'Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, this is the place where they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.'"-- Mark 16:1-7

Midweek Poem 7: May she be granted beauty

 For the parents of daughters

A Prayer for My Daughter

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid   

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid   

My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle   

But Gregory's Wood and one bare hill   

Whereby the haystack and roof-levelling wind,   

Bred on the Atlantic, can be stayed;   

And for an hour I have walked and prayed   

Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour,

And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,

And under the arches of the bridge, and scream

In the elms above the flooded stream;

Imagining in excited reverie

That the future years had come   

Dancing to a frenzied drum   

Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.

May she be granted beauty, and yet not   

Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,   

Or hers before a looking-glass; for such,   

Being made beautiful overmuch,   

Consider beauty a sufficient end,   

Lose natural kindness, and maybe   

The heart-revealing intimacy   

That chooses right, and never find a friend.

Helen, being chosen, found life flat and dull,   

And later had much trouble from a fool;   

While that great Queen that rose out of the spray,   

Being fatherless, could have her way,   

Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man.   

It's certain that fine women eat   

A crazy salad with their meat   

Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;   

Hearts are not had as a gift, but hearts are earned   

By those that are not entirely beautiful.   

Yet many, that have played the fool

For beauty's very self, has charm made wise;   

And many a poor man that has roved,   

Loved and thought himself beloved,   

From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree,   

That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,   

And have no business but dispensing round   

Their magnanimities of sound;   

Nor but in merriment begin a chase,   

Nor but in merriment a quarrel.   

Oh, may she live like some green laurel   

Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

My mind, because the minds that I have loved,   

The sort of beauty that I have approved,   

Prosper but little, has dried up of late,   

Yet knows that to be choked with hate   

May well be of all evil chances chief.   

If there's no hatred in a mind   

Assault and battery of the wind   

Can never tear the linnet from the leaf.

An intellectual hatred is the worst,   

So let her think opinions are accursed.   

Have I not seen the loveliest woman born

Out of the mouth of Plenty's horn,   

Because of her opinionated mind   

Barter that horn and every good   

By quiet natures understood   

For an old bellows full of angry wind?

Considering that, all hatred driven hence,   

The soul recovers radical innocence   

And learns at last that it is self-delighting,

Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,   

And that its own sweet will is heaven's will,   

She can, though every face should scowl   

And every windy quarter howl   

Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house   

Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;   

For arrogance and hatred are the wares   

Peddled in the thoroughfares.   

How but in custom and in ceremony   

Are innocence and beauty born?   

Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,   

And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

---------------------------W. B. Yeats, 1919

Resurrection Faith

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The LORD is risen, indeed! Alleluia!


As we now enter the magnificent season of Easter, I seek to contemplate the miracle of the abiding love-- unmerited, amazing love-- that Christ has for me.

 I want to rededicate myself to a Resurrection Faith-- a faith that responds to that grace by seeking to reflect the love of Christ into the world. A faith that drops the mask of cynicism that I often adopt to protect my fragile, broken heart and instead open myself up to the joy of life that rises like dawn from the deepest darkness that I allow to settle over my soul.

For Jesus endured all-- all for the sake of love. How can I at least not attempt to reach out my hands to those I encounter each day? How can I not attempt to live according to my best impulses rather than my worst?


A Resurrection Faith is one that calls us not to just love God out of fear of the terrible punishment we think we deserve for our manifold sins, but calls us to love God through living out the Great Commandment: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and all your strength, and all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." 

A Resurrection Faith calls me to not just rest upon the saving power of the cross but to always seek to bear my own crosses of pride and vanity and self-centeredness. I then pray to leave them at Golgotha, and tear them down as the hateful banes that they are to walking in the true path of Christ.


A Resurrection Faith calls me to the work of building up rather than tearing down. A Resurrection Faith raises us all from the dead, and calls us to be alive in each moment and in each other. A Resurrection Faith calls us to be, not just profess.


As one of my favorite hymns sings in my heart:


I want to walk as a child of the light;
I want to follow Jesus.
God set the stars to give light to the world;
the star of my life is Jesus.

In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

I want to see the brightness of God;
I want to look at Jesus.
Clear Sun of righteousness, shine on my path,
and show me the way to the Father.


In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.
I’m looking for the coming of Christ;
I want to be with Jesus.
When we have run with patience the race,
we shall know the joy of Jesus.


In him there is no darkness at all;
the night and the day are both alike.
The Lamb is the light of the city of God:
Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.


Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

When bad things happen to good people

One of the biggest, omnipresent questions that linger over our lives as Christians is to try to answer the question of why good people suffer. It's human nature to want to believe that faith in some power-- be it detachment, as the Buddhist believes; or Jesus, as the Christian believes; or karma, as the Hindu believes; or guru, as the Sikh believes-- will then magically lead to all of our suffering being eliminated.

We all want to find that magic bullet that protects us from anything unpleasant in our lives. We want to find some power that raises us above the plane of suffering.

We want to be rewarded for having faith, even though that turns the meaning of faith upside down.

It's human. Childish, but human. The fact that good people still have to deal with bad things is also one of the "proofs" that critics of religion use to mock religious belief and to claim that there is no God.

But no one is immune from tragedy, or pain, or illness. Being a good person doesn't get you a free ticket from God, because the world as created by God does not work that way. We all have to deal with illness, with pain, with sadness, with heartbreak.

This week is the start of Holy Week, and we begin with Palm Sunday. Here is the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem to loud shouts of joy from the people of the city! Here at last is the Messiah, who is supposed to kick butts first and ask questions later. Here is the one who is supposed to be a great military and political leader and lift the yoke of oppression once and for all from the neck of the people of Israel.

But...

Our perspective from the 21st century allows us to know that those aspirations the people had for Jesus are not going to be fulfilled. Instead, we know that these shouts of joy will lead to the suffering of Jesus-- the dark events that happen AFTER the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The remembrances of Holy Week emphasize that the triumphal entry into Jerusalem is quickly followed by the betrayal, arrest, and trial of Jesus. He will be handed over for execution after having been judged so dangerous that the only suitable punishment is death.

As Christians, we are reminded of this fact this week as God's own son, Jesus, undergoes betrayal, trials, and suffering. Friends will sell out Jesus for money. He will be charged with blaspheming against God for his criticism of religious authorities. His other friends will abandon him and even deny that they know him. He will be beaten. He will be mocked. He will be tortured to death.

The incarnational aspect of this is that Jesus shares all the joys and sorrows that we do. He loves, and he loses those he loves. He is celebrated, and he is despised. He lives, and he suffers and dies. He has experienced the entire range of human experiences. Even God's son was not spared suffering.

If the story ended there, we would not have much to go on. However, this week begins Holy Week. The story of Jesus does not end at the cross....

Jesus is with us in our pain, sorrow, and suffering. Jesus shares those experiences with us in good times and in bad times, as we are reminded in this Sunday's reading from Philippians 2:5-11:

"Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who although he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness..."

Jesus is not here among us to take away suffering and pain. Jesus is here among us to help us bear suffering and pain, because he has endured it himself.

Midweek Poem 6: Pieta

Pietà

I hunted heaven

for him.

No dice.

Too uppity,

it was. Not enough

music, or dark dirt.

I begged the earth empty

of him. Death

believes in us whether

we believe

or not. For a long while

I watch the sound

of a boy bouncing a ball

down the block

take its time

to reach me. Father,

find me when

you want. I’ll wait.

--Kevin Young, 2011

Of Trayvon Martin and Standing Your Ground

The incredibly sad and outrageous story about the killing of Trayvon Martin continues to reverberate throughout the country-- as well it should.  There is so much about this event and the laws surrounding it that are deeply disturbing.

At a societal level, there is the law that is being used to justify George Zimmermann's actions. In 2005, at the behest of the National Rifle Association, Florida was the first state in the nation to pass this so-called "Stand Your Ground" law, which removes the obligation for someone to retreat from a perceived threat and supposedly authorizes force to be met with force, legally. This same kind of law has been cited as justifying the actions of a young Oklahoma mother who shot a knife-wielding attacker who burst into her home. I think actually these two cases are very different. First of all, in the Oklahoma case, the attacker had possibly attempted to break into her house before, looking for painkillers left over from her late husband's battle against cancer, and he burst into her home where she was alone with her three-month-old baby. The ability to retreat here was obviously not possible. It was her home. She had barricaded the door and called the police as the intruder spent several minutes trying to break in with his accomplice. She was told the police would probably not arrive in time. She could not leave her home with her baby without exposing herself to her attacker and his accomplice outside her home. Second of all, the so-called "castle doctrine" would have applied to this situation, making the need for further legislation unnecessary. It was a completely different situation.

But George Zimmermann was supposedly driving down the street of his gated community when he saw Trayvon Martin walking along, and got out of his car and began to follow the teen, while armed. Both  Martin and Zimmermann have a right to be where they were, and Zimmermann had no overriding protective interest to initiating the confrontation with Martin. Yes, I said, "initiate." Zimmermann called police, and the dispatcher told him that it was unnecessary to continue to follow Martin, and yet Zimmermann, let me repeat, an ARMED Zimmermann, continued to follow Martin. At some point, some sort of confrontation occurred, and Zimmermann shot Martin in the chest and killed him. Today, the news comes out that Zimmermann now claims at this late date that Martin attacked him first and broke his nose.

Now let's turn this around. Trayvon Martin is walking along the street, and a stranger gets out of his car and begins to follow him. The man continues to follow him even when Martin asks his follower what he is doing. Why doesn't anyone consider that Martin had a real right to be afraid of the stranger who was acting belligerently toward him? If Zimmermann has the right to meet force with force, why doesn't Trayvon Martin have that same right? In fact, since Martin was unarmed, he is at a decided disadvantage against an armed man-- although he probably did not know that originally. Let's also remember that the only person who can give an account of this incident is the person who pulled the trigger, who thus has had a month's lag time as well as an absolute incentive to spin this story in a way that exonerates himself. And I really wish the authorities in that Florida town would realize that a law like this cuts both ways in a case such as this one. EVEN IF Martin pushed or punched Zimmermann first, one could definitely argue that Martin had a right to do that under the same law that Zimmermann is now citing as justifying his actions. Where will this end? With the absolute further unraveling of what little civility is left in our culture at this sad moment in American history.

And that very fact leads to my overriding concern with this legislation. There is an ethical, and indeed, a religious aspect that has also been overlooked. This type of law is predicated on the assumption that anyone you meet has hostile intent toward you. It is yet another example of the decay of the fabric of community and the erosion of the principle that individual rights are limited once they begin to interfere with someone else's rights. There's a word for the condition in which someone suspects all of those around him of bad intent. It's called paranoia, and the last time I checked, it was considered a psychological disorder. The way this law is written, anyone could make the claim that they have the right to be judge and executioner if they PERCEIVE that they are being threatened, and the term "perception" is incredibly broad. The problem is, the person on the other end of that gun is obviously also being threatened.

George Zimmerman is a civilian. He is not a peace officer. Therefore, Zimmermann had no right to stop another citizen on the street. This entire altercation begins with Zimmermann feeling the right to make an assumption about another citizen and decide that he has the right to initiate a confrontation-- emboldened by his knowledge that he is armed. Zimmermann and Martin had an equal right to use of a public space. Zimmermann may claim that he lived in the neighborhood and that Martin was just visiting-- but how did he know that Martin did not live there at the time he began this confrontation? He didn't. He made an assumption about Trayvon Martin being out of place based upon his age, his race, his attire, whatever. Furthermore, by refusing the dispatcher's instruction to break off the engagement with Martin, hasn't George Zimmermann undermined any attempt by his defenders (or himself) to describe him as "law-abiding?"

These "Stand Your Ground" laws are horrible laws that ultimately could end in shoot-outs in the streets, particularly in states where concealed carry is common. Meant as a deterrent to crime, they here have promoted the most heinous level of disregard of human life, based on the biased assumptions of a man who was allowed a permit to carry a concealed gun even after being convicted of assault on a police officer and having been under a restraining order by a former girlfriend. And yet at least some authorities in the state of Florida are arguing that this person's judgment is to be trusted-- even over that of a police officer, if you think about it. When a police officer shoots someone with his or her weapon, he or she is placed on leave while the incident is investigated-- and these are people who are trained in the restrained use of force. You have a situation where a police officer is held to a different standard than a citizen who lacks the police officer's training and judgment. And this is absolutely an idea that subverts the very principle of justice, as well as law and order.

I find it interesting that many of the same people who supported this unjust expansion of personal liberty at the expense of the interests of peace, order, and community, also profess to be Christian. And where in scripture does it say "Shoot first, and ask questions later," or, indeed, as laws like this are sometimes alternatively labelled "Make My Day" laws-- as in the famous movie quote, "Go ahead, make my day?" The last time I checked, the fictional movie character who originally mouthed those words, Dirty Harry, was not held up as a paragon of ethical or spiritual virtue. And there's another aspect that no one seems to be contemplating in all the aggressive posturing about one's right to be armed in public.

A final point-- what is the logical conclusion to this case, but the decision by more people to walk about armed and paranoid to protect themselves from the George Zimmermanns of this world? That should be a sobering thought, indeed.

Love and Glory

Sermon on John 12: 20-33

5 Lent, Year B

March 25, 2012

Jeremiah 31: 27-24

Psalm 51: 1-12

Hebrews 5:1-10

John 12: 20-36

(Click here for an audio recording of the sermon)

Several of us here at Holy Communion are taking part in the Bible 365 program. There’s a special Bible used in this program in which each day’s readings are organized into supposedly chronological order. Now, anyone who has ever made a New Year’s resolution knows how hard it is to keep up with something every single day for an entire year. And I will be the first to admit that there have been days I have gotten behind, but mostly, I was doing pretty well -- until we got to the late February and early March.

Those readings were centered predominantly upon the thousands of rules and regulations in the book of Leviticus. I mean to tell you, that was a SLOG, even though I knew it was coming. All the orders to use this specific color of thread and this specific kind of wood and avoid eating any sort of creeping animals. All this discussion regarding the burning of entrails! All these different animals getting sacrificed, and their blood being sprinkled all over the altar, and then at the same time all the specific rules about cleanliness, which if you think about it is somewhat contradictory. It was just so mind- numbingly detailed. The endless lists! It was the part of the Bible that could have been written by an… engineer. An engineer who likes to play Modern Warfare 3, the gory Playstation game. But I’m being redundant.

Nevertheless, there are many reasons why we need to be familiar with these readings in the Old Testament. The early Jewish Christians understood Jesus as the one who had been foretold in the Law and the Prophets, and through them we have that understanding as well. Those readings in the Old Testament that we endured in February explain that the people need a lot of guidance to live in community with each other and in community with God. Our readings today build upon both that tradition and upon a presumption of our familiarity with that background. Without that frame of reference, Jesus could have been just another failed rebel against a corrupt regime who was born, lived and died without much outside notice.

As Brooke discussed last week, the important thing for understanding any story is context. Of the four gospels in the Christian Bible, John’s is the most different, and many biblical scholars say it is the most theological, which is why the author of the gospel of John-- whoever he was-- is often referred to as “the theologian.” In each Lenten lectionary cycle, there is at least one reading from John. In year B, the year we are currently in, four of the Lenten readings are from Mark, and three are from John. This is interesting because these two gospels are very different. Mark is the shortest of the gospels, and it presents one of the bleakest pictures of Jesus’ passion story. It probably originally ended on a note of despair: “They were afraid.” And who could blame those beholding the empty tomb and the missing body of Jesus for being afraid?

But John’s gospel is different. Jesus’ suffering on the cross is downplayed, in favor of the concept of the cross being a means of glorifying God. All through this gospel, Jesus is a heavenly figure who comes to us to reveal to humanity the true way of faith, and hope, and love, and then will ascend -- be lifted up-- bringing glory to God. In this gospel, Jesus is very clear about his divine origins, so he doesn’t engage in a lot of tap-dancing around his status as the Messiah. This view of Jesus is of one who is in charge.

In our reading today, even when Jesus admits that his soul is troubled, yet in the same breath he presses on in order to fulfill his purpose and bring glory to God. Now, if that was the only part of the story we had, we might walk away missing the fact that Jesus was also fully human. We have had five weeks of Lent in particular to contemplate how God is with us in trials and in suffering because Jesus is walking the way of suffering and death on the cross. We will return to that contemplation through Holy Week. But today we are called to remember that Jesus is a figure of amazing power, God incarnate sharing our joys and suffering but also drawing all people to the love of God. Death will be unable to keep down hope, and faith, and love, even death on a cross.

            How do we (and John) understand the paradox that the cross is a symbol of victory and power rather than dishonor and disgrace? A death which is a sign of torture is instead a triumph. This was a scandalous idea at the time it was formulated, as it also is for us. Crucifixion was the means of execution for rebels and for murderers, and it was a terrible, lingering way to die.

But by casting back to the events of the history of Israel, John sees that the saving power of the cross has already been hinted at. Last week we heard the story of the people of Israel being saved by looking upon a symbol raised up on a pole, and looking upon that sign saved them from death. The reading from John’s gospel last week started off making explicit the connection between this sign and the lifting up of Jesus on the cross. For John, it is through the exaltation of the Son of Man on the cross that God, through Jesus, is glorified.

            The gospel reading for today is the hinge upon which the good news of the gospel of John is proclaimed. This is the point at which, as Jesus says, “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.” What caused this hour to finally come at this particular point? The world—in the form of some “Greeks,” which means us—has come to Jesus. And now—NOW--Jesus is going to be exalted—lifted up—on the cross and beyond the cross, held up to bring all of the world to Go. Jesus makes this clear when he says: “I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” In the gospel of John, this is the point where Jesus moves from his ministry toward his exaltation-- when we come to Jesus. Victory can push through to us at the darkest of times. For John, the crucifixion brings victory, because the cross brings the world to God. We don’t usually think of it this way, but the metaphor of the grain of wheat helps us remember this too. Jesus speaks again in paradox. In order to live we must die. Those who die to themselves will finally have a full life.

Today’s readings are a breath of hope in the season of Lent. Our Old Testament reading comes from a section of Jeremiah known as the “Little Book of Comfort,” and it was written at a time when many in Israel felt that Israel was being punished yet again for its lack of faith. Jeremiah promises that God will make a new covenant and wipe away the old system of atonement for sin. God will write the Law upon our hearts by planting the knowledge of God in our hearts. No longer will God’s people have to rely upon a complex set of rules and sacrifices to maintain a correct relationship with each other and with God. Our epistle makes it clear that Jesus is the means for that old system of sacrifice and atonement to pass away. God has given us an everlasting gift that can finally overcome our doubts and pettiness that seem to always be getting us into trouble.

Just a week ago, the trees were bare, and the ground was hard. I was sitting in my backyard working on what I would say today, in the dead remains of a garden I planted last spring. It looked pretty brown back there. The soil is very poor, and the summer had been very hot. I thought I had probably wasted all of that effort, and that none of the plants I had planted would return.

But as I spent hours there each day, and really stilled myself to see, I looked around and things had changed right before my eyes! I noticed the fiddleheads of ferns poking through the dead blanket of needles from the pines. I saw a crocus I had planted years ago and completely forgotten about push through the new sod. That delicate Japanese hosta unfurled its first tentative leaves in the place along our back fence where I was sure the daily deluge of urine from my neighbor’s moronic dog had killed it!

And two days later—boom!! The redbuds waved their millions of tiny blossoms from bare branches, and they were beautiful. They are beautiful, but they are transitory. Those same blossoms must themselves fall to the ground to make way for the heart-shaped leaves that will soon provide a canopy of cool shade. Then, in November those leaves too will subside and drift to the ground themselves.

So, also, the solitary grain of wheat must fall to the ground and be buried before it can bring forth much fruit.  Otherwise, it remains a single grain—the original Greek here actually says, “Remains alone.” Jesus, through his upcoming passion, will also be nailed on a cross, facing death and feeling abandoned and alone. We know this will happen. But we also know that that cross will then awaken the world to the greatest power on earth—the power of love that does not hold our frailties and sins against us, but calls us to a new life in love.  We know that the cross is not the end for Jesus, but just the beginning of victory.

So the image of the grain of wheat says something first of all about Jesus as the Christ, but second of all it says something about us. Christ transforms death through his own death on the cross, and then rises again to bring light and hope into this divided world. We become faithful by dying to our own divisions and fears and embracing love as Jesus spread his arms of love on the cross.

This is what all of the Bible has been trying to get through our thick skulls all along. Our faith doesn’t tell us how to die. It tells us how to live. It doesn’t tell us what to give up. It tells us what we will gain. It doesn’t tell us that the world is broken. It tells us how to make the world better.

            How should we respond to this? It is made clear to us in the gospel, that we who claim to serve Jesus have to be willing to allow our old lives spent living for ourselves, spent surrounded by our individual concerns and cares, to pass away. We are asked to allow the bitter, jealous parts of ourselves to die, and empty our grasping hands and our fearful hearts so that there will be room for something better to be planted and burst into bloom. When our hearts are full of fear, there is no room for love to take root. There is no room to truly love God and glory in the ability of God to love us. We have to be willing to let go of the junk the world tells us to value in order to be able to grasp the gift of God’s incredible love and mercy that never fades and never dies.

We ourselves have to let go of fear, and place our faith in the power of love just as Jesus did as he prepared for his glorification. When we allow ourselves to be reborn to love, as we are called to be as servants of Christ, we will receive back not a life filled with poverty of spirit. We will be given a life of abundance instead.

And yet, our old life dies hard. Our suspicion that we will somehow lose out by realigning our lives with love has to be overcome. How do we do this? We have to prepare the fields of our hearts for the seed to be able to take root and grow.

            Lent is a season of preparation. But for what are we to be preparing? We began Lent being reminded that we are dust, and to dust we will return. Some despair when contemplating this very true statement. Some find this statement to be a frightening reminder of how short our lives are, in the general scheme of things. But we will not have much of a life if we spend it distracted by fear from the things that really matter. We are called to live lives that have meaning, and today’s gospel reminds us that that meaning is found in serving God, which is another way of saying that we must serve the cause of each other as God’s people.

Our lives began in love, and our lives are exalted by love, and must be spent serving the cause of love-- the love that gives itself up for friends, the love that is willing to see beyond the tomb, just as Jesus did, to being fully within the glory of God.

In her book of Lenten spirituality entitled A Practical Christianity, the Very Rev. Jane Shaw, dean of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, writes: “Faith in the God of love draws us back to a path of preparation: it calls us to the expression of love in all that we do, by which we might reflect the love of God and become most fully who we are called to be. This forces us to look outward, to love neighbor and love God. And it prepares us to look inward with confidence, to see ourselves as received and loved—wholly and completely—by the God who created us….”

We are given that love through the love of Christ that manifested itself through his laying down his life for us. We are approaching Jerusalem this week, turning our faces toward home, toward the raising up of the cross-shaped banner of Love. We are approaching the hour when God’s love will be made manifest to us, when, in a few short days, we will pass through the darkness of the passion. It is for this moment that Jesus lived—it is for this moment that we are called to allow the love we receive to transform us into the people of God here on earth.

The signs of God’s love are all around us everywhere, and today we are reminded that Jesus is the beacon that calls us to open our eyes and our hearts. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus,” the Greeks asked Philip and Andrew. But as anyone who has read scripture knows, even physical sight of Jesus was not enough for most people. The kind of sight we need is the recognition that we ourselves are nothing without love, and we see that when we behold just what Jesus is willing to do out of love for us. Last week we were reminded that God so loved the world that God’s only Son was given so that all would have true life. All of us. No exceptions. No dividing lines. No “us” versus “them.”
Jesus is right before us, always. We already have the love of God written in our hearts. In a few short weeks we will be able to proclaim this beautiful hymn, written by e. e. cummings in 1950:

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

How could we doubt unimaginable God and the love that lifts us up? We have the sign of that love right in front of us and indeed all around us. In the gospel today Jesus says, “Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” The way we have twisted our own lives in this world is the way of struggle, the way of strife, the way of tearing apart the fabric of the community in the name of self-glorification. Why fear letting that way of life die and be blown away like so many dead leaves?

Without the love of God transforming our lives, we are the walking dead. We are dead to beauty. We are dead to truth. But by giving up this self-centered life, we do not lose but gain. We become aware of the transcendent power of God to heal our wounded souls, to illumine our lives even at their darkest moments, to make clear the millions of ways every day that God sustains us and loves us.

We begin and we end with Jesus calling all people to himself. This is the sign of the exalted one. This is the sign of perfect love, love that knows no boundaries or admits any defeat, even at the foot of the cross. This is the hour that Jesus is glorified, the hour when we can finally let go and allow ourselves to be drawn to him. The Son of Man lifted up on the cross publishes and proclaims the love of God in the world, a love that is present for us at all times in all places. Let us allow ourselves to let that Love take root within us, now and forever. Amen.

Music for Lenten Meditation

I just discovered, through the magic of iTunes, some beautiful music to meditate by during these last days of Lent. It is called The Prayer Cycle, and it a symphonic and choral piece written in nine movements by composer Jonathan Elias. It includes vocals by Linda Ronstadt, James, Taylor, and Alanis Morrissette, as well as singers from Tibet, England, Israel, and Pakistan, to name just a few. At least in the case of Taylor and Morissette, this is the first time I have heard them sing something of this type. Twelve different languages are employed, and each movement highlights a different spiritual gift such as grace, mercy, innocence, and piety.


It is ethereal, haunting, and challenging. I highly recommend it as we perform our Lenten devotions. It was originally issued in 1999. i don't know how I missed it, but it has become the soundtrack of my prayers.

Beyond tolerance to love

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him."- John 3:17


What if we concentrated on trying to save others as much as we try to save ourselves? What if we and our leaders would try to look at situations from the point of view of the other rather than from our own narrow interests and need for immediate gratification? What if we all tried to reflect back the saving love of God instead of trying to arrogate it to ourselves?


I think too often we are willing to follow Jesus if that still means that we can do whatever we want and justify any behavior, because there is a trend in American Christianity that relies upon God's grace and the saving power of a personal relationship with Jesus to take away any sense of being CHANGED by our relationship with God. As long as God stays within a three hour wide box on Sunday morning, we can claim membership in the cozy yet exclusive Christian club without too much disruption to our normal policy of enslaving ourselves to our own foolish desires while being able to condemn others for the speck in their eyes while we not just ignore but justify the plank in our own.


If Jesus did not come to condemn us, but to love us, then we should try mightily to do the same for our brothers and sisters. Dear Lord, help me with this.

Midweek Poem 5: Evangelical vibrato

Shepherd Road

Eventually, I grab the back-door key

from the cup-holder, slip a folded list

into my pocket. Inside, I dig through closets

to find the lincoln logs, the cardinal statue,

the clock shaped like an elephant, a kettle—

but the whole time I half expect to hear her:

the careful shuffle of her slow, flat feet;

her walker's unpredictable clap; her voice

trembling with evangelical vibrato.

Beside the bed, I find a King James Bible,

her careful marginalia penciled in:

Glory! Glory! Amen! I set it down.

I shouldn't want it just because it's hers.

----------Ashley Anna McHugh, 2010

Midweek Poem 4: the sparrow knoweth

Psalm 84

How lovely is thy dwelling,

Great god, to whom all greatness is belonging!

       To view thy courts far, far from any telling

My soul doth long and pine with longing

                 Unto the God that liveth,

                 The God that all life giveth,

       My heart and body both aspire,

       Above delight, beyond desire.

       Alas, the sparrow knoweth

The house where free and fearless she resideth;

       Directly to the nest the swallow goeth,

Where with her sons she safe abideth.

                Oh, altars thine, most mighty

                 In war, yea, most almighty:

       Thy altars, Lord, ah, why should I

       From altars thine excluded lie?

       Oh, happy who remaineth

Thy household-man and still thy praise unfoldeth!

       Oh, happy who himself on thee sustaineth,

Who to thy house his journey holdeth!

                 Me seems I see them going

                 Where mulberries are growing:

       How wells they dig in thirsty plain,

       And cisterns make for falling rain.

       Me seems I see augmented

Still troop with troop, till all at length discover

       Zion, where to their sight is represented

The Lord of hosts, the Zion lover.

                 O Lord, O God, most mighty

                 In war, yea, most almighty:

       Hear what I beg; hearken, I say,

       O Jacob’s God, to what I pray.

       Thou art the shield us shieldeth:

Then, Lord, behold the face of thine anointed

       One day spent in thy courts more comfort yieldeth

Than thousands otherwise appointed.

                 I count it clearer pleasure

                 To spend my age’s treasure

       Waiting a porter at thy gates

       Than dwell a lord with wicked mates.

       Thou art the sun that shineth;

Thou art the buckler, Lord that us defendeth:

       Glory and grace Jehovah’s hand assigneth

And good without refusal sendeth

                 To him who truly treadeth

                 The path to pureness leadeth.

       O Lord of might, thrice blessed he

       Whose confidence is built on thee.

--------------Mary Sidney Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, 1561-1621