Faith and a Comma

Hebrews11:1-7

I am a firm believer in epiphanies, those times when something strikes me that I never really thought of or considered before, but which now seems so clear and so understandable. My favorite place to find epiphanies isn’t necessarily Facebook, but now and then I see my own as well as those that others have experienced.  This one that I read the other day practically stood up and screamed, “EPIPHANY!”:

In the Nicene Creed, I quite by accident, found an [sic]intenentional change in a sentence I have repeated a bazillion times. "We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and Earth, of all that is, seen and unseen..." I found an intentional break, a comma, between ..." of a all that is, seen and unseen..." Now, I've blown through that statement and never realized I was supposed to pause at the end of the statement "...all that IS,..." All that IS. Everything. No Exceptions...then, it continues ..."seen and unseen"...whether you can see or not.*

One of the tenets of Christianity is that God is the maker of all things. The epiphany that Bill had was that a small punctuation mark he had never noticed before added an emphasis he hadn’t considered— a comma between “maker of all things” and “seen and unseen.” Try reading it without that little pause and then reread it with the break. It may not make a tsunami of a change for us, but it does change the perspective just a bit. God, the creator, created all things, whether or not we can see them. We can look at it as something like the wind. We can’t see the wind itself, but we can see what the wind does. Watch the leaves blow on it on the trees, or the clouds move in the sky, or the sway of flowers as the breeze goes by.  We see the action, not the cause. It’s worth spending time contemplating the things that God has created that we can’t see.

Good old Paul. In his letter to the Hebrews, he has come up with something that makes the same point: “Now faith Is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Verse three then tells us that “By faith, we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.”

If we think about something that’s unseen, many times we think about faith. Like the wind, faith is only visible through its action within a person or group. Our belief is demonstrated by the willingness to be baptized. For all of us, baptism is the entrance into a life of faith, whether or not we practice it with any regularity or even institutionally. Action is what shows up when we practice what we believe, what we have faith in. It’s that simple.

Faith is something that can get a person through a situation that is possibly very dangerous, uncomfortable, or even deadly.  It carried the martyrs throughout the ages as they faced their deaths because they had their faith and for them, it was unshakable. It was and is a kind of support, a guidepost, and a staff to lean on even though none of those things are visible. Faith is doing what may not be the most natural thing but is the right thing. It is the letting go of my personal will and putting it in God's hands while still using the intellect and reasoning ability that God gave me at my birth to do what is right and what I should be doing.

Faith isn’t something that will necessarily make me rich; it may not get me up off an ash pit such as Job found himself on because of his faith. I’m wondering if sometimes it isn’t more possible for people who have little to have this kind of faith, just because they have little and don’t expect to be given a Rolls-Royce or a multi-million-dollar mansion. I think of the poor in so many countries who flocked to the church because they believed that with enough faith they could follow God more closely, and trust that things will work out for them if they are faithful to God. I think of pictures of grannies and aunties around the world kneeling in churches, praying rosaries, bringing a flower to a shrine, or spinning a prayer wheel. There many ways to practice faith and prayer is indeed one of them; however, prayer, like faith, needs to be accompanied by actions. Jesus told us what steps we needed to take, but even somewhat repetitious pronouncements of those words don’t always seem to get across to a lot of people. Some call it the social gospel; others call it bleeding hearts. Which one of those terms would you think of when you think of the words of Jesus? Which would Jesus use?

This coming week, with the beginning of Lent, all of us will be asked to take on things instead of merely giving up trivialities like chocolate or movies. Practices such as reading a spiritual book, attending church more often, volunteering to help the homeless, hungry, or the elderly, perhaps even working with children help others whom Jesus told us to help. If we contribute more actively to food banks, animal shelters, and other places where people come with hope and faith that there will be what they need in those places, that is faith in action. Blankets, food, and even the gift of time are very practices. Lent is a perfect time to practice the “seen” part of faith and not just leave it unseen.

A blessed Lent to all of you. God bless.

*Quote from Bill Lambert, found on Facebook, February 21, 2019. Used with permission of the author.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 23, 2019.

Using "I"

I have often mentioned Education for Ministry (EfM) as one of my passions. It’s a four-year study of Old and New Testaments, church history, and theology. It’s designed to be like a seminary for laypeople, although priests and deacons may serve as mentors or even as group members. The basic design is to give participants insights, information, and ways of doing things that will assist in their doing their ministries, both in the church and out in the world.

One of the disciplines or practices on which we’ve been working hard for the last few years is the use of the “I” statements.  “I” statements are used to indicate our personal beliefs, thoughts, opinions, and positions, as opposed to “we” statements which lump us in with others who may or may not share our thoughts and beliefs. It takes away, to an extent, the “us” or “we” and “them.” It’s like the difference between the words of the Apostles’ Creed vs. the Nicene Creed.  Both are statements of faith and belief, but one uses the singular pronoun while the other uses the collective or plural form.  

Using an “I” statement is often seen, at least in contemporary culture, as a sign of ego; “I have done this,” or “I have got that.” Those are statements of accomplishment, like patting oneself on the back by saying it aloud so that others will know just who it is they are dealing with and why the speaker deserves attention or admiration.  The ego demands, no matter how gently it slips into a conversation.  When someone is very forthright in using the word “I,” especially when directing others or expressing their opinions and thoughts as the only truly right ones, is where the problems exist. In essence, the ego is saying “I am important; you are not.”

A better way to use “I” is to use it as a way of communicating through allowing a person to express how words and actions make them feel without casting any aspersions on the person to whom they are speaking. “When you say this, I feel that.” It works very well as a bridge to civil discourse as opposed to finger-pointing and increased anger.

Our late mentor and friend, Ann Fontaine, was quite a proponent of the “I” statement. She was not afraid to remind us that we were to use “I” statements rather than “we” statements because we could not with any assurance speak for the group or members of the group. It was owning our own stuff, and not trying to either force it on someone else or point to someone else as if they were personally a  protagonist. I’ve tried using it with friends, and it’s created much better conversation since the person to whom I’m talking does not feel like I am pointing them out personally.  Ann was never afraid to remind us when we slipped into the “we” speech, as we do on occasion. In our sessions, at some point, someone will mention they feel like Ann’s tapping her foot at our forgetting. We laugh, and we restate our words and phrases to reflect our individual points of view or feelings. It’s almost like having her back with us.

Jesus was particular about what he said. He was not afraid to make “you” statements, especially with his disciples. They asked why they could not cure someone, and Jesus would give them an answer that indicated that something was lacking but without using a lot of judgment calls or name-calling. He wasn’t afraid of using names, as he had been known to call the temple officials “brood of vipers” and other choice epithets. Still, he didn’t use the word “I” except when speaking to others of his beliefs, his knowledge of God, and his presence in the world. “Verily, I say unto you” usually was a turn of phrase that he used when correcting something from Scripture that had been misinterpreted. Still, he wasn’t pointing fingers directly at someone and accusing them. Instead, he was making a statement that called attention to the fact that there was something that needed to be corrected.

“I” statements aren’t necessarily wrong. Some wag once said words to the effect of if you don’t blow your own horn, it won’t get blown. There are times these days when the ego wants to come out, to be stroked, and to let others know what valuable words for commendable actions the speaker has performed but of which the audience would have been unfamiliar. Some war heroes never speak of their acts of bravery and go to their graves without ever having mentioned them. Very possibly, there were those for whom the memories were too painful, but many remained silent because they considered they were doing their job, and their job was protecting others.

I found that using “I” statements in terms of making another person aware of how I feel when they say or do something is much less confrontational than pointing fingers and calling names. It’s like making a confession where the focus is on the sins I have committed and not something that someone else has done to me. Yes, people have done things to me that I have difficulty forgiving, but my confession is how I react to those things, not a condemnation of the actor. It isn’t my job to take someone else’s inventory, as the 12-Step programs emphasize, but to own my own thoughts, beliefs, feelings, emotions, actions, and shortcomings.

If you wonder why so many of my reflections use “I” statements as a basis or foundation, there’s the reason. I work hard to use it. It is how I see and feel and think, even though I may bring in the thoughts and words of others. In conversation,  I have to pause before saying something so that I can speak of how another’s actions and beliefs affect me. I take time to phrase it so that it’s not confrontational but rather merely informative.

 If you haven’t tried it, do give it a shot. And whether or not you ever knew Ann Fontaine, and many of you have heard of her or knew her, remember to say thank you to her.

God bless. 


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 16, 2019.

Restoration

Over the years our language has changed. We’ve added multitudes of new words, and we’ve dropped some old ones. Each year we seem to accumulate a list of newly minted words or phrases as legitimate. Whether or not they stay in the vocabulary, who’s to say? But the one I’ve been thinking about today is binge watching.

Binge watching is to find a program or a series that I like and then find a way, like Netflix or Amazon, to watch as many episodes as possible in order. I also tend to watch documentaries in groups, sometimes forensics, crime, medical, and sometimes history. It seems that lately, I’ve been on a kick where I’ve been watching documentaries on the Holocaust and World War II. I don’t know why, but it finding a documentary I haven’t seen on the Holocaust always triggers my interest, as difficult as many of the scenes in them are to watch.

I found one the other day on reconstruction work going on in Auschwitz-Birkenau. It told the story of the camps and which persons were selected for which camp based on specific criteria. Birkenau was the death camp. People chosen to go there were sent to die immediately. Auschwitz was a work camp where people were stripped of more than just their clothes, their possessions, and often their families, but also of dignity, common decency, and their humanity.

As I said, a lot of the pictures and films are hard to watch, seeing skeleton-like people walking in cold weather wearing no more than a pair of striped pajamas, if that much. Naked people were lying out on the cold ground, either dead or the next thing to it. I wondered why they are rebuilding a place that has so many horrible memories, but the documentaries, especially the one on Auschwitz that I saw the other night explained to me precisely what the objective was.

During the filming, they brought some survivors of Auschwitz to visit the camp as it is being rebuilt slowly but carefully. Looking at pictures of the area as it was in 1945 and its campus now, it is like looking at a whole different world. In 1945 there were no concrete walkways, trees, or even a blade of grass. But to the survivors, it was confronting memories that have haunted them for years, but also gave them a chance to show their children and grandchildren part of their history in a way that would help them to understand where their family members had been and what they had experienced.

One thing that struck me was interviews with people involved in rebuilding and restoring Auschwitz. There were older craftsmen there but there were also a number of younger people, a surprising amount of younger people, each with a specialty that would enable them to help rebuild or restore buildings and items from those who had been rounded up and sent to that place as a final solution to what the Nazis called “the Jewish problem.” It was interesting to see a simple suitcase that came with someone, probably from Poland, 70 years ago in the hope of being sent away from a crowded ghetto to a place where they could live their lives. Of course, we know that didn’t happen. The suitcase was a bit worse for wear, as a surviving relic of seven decades would undoubtedly be. It was restored slowly and carefully but without changing its dents, dings, and scratches.

One young woman especially impressed me. She was involved with restoring some of the barracks in which the prisoners lived in the most abysmal of situations. The young woman of probably mid-20s or little older was asked what she gained from helping to restore this symbol of ultimate oppression and murder. Her response was rather simple but powerful. Her purpose, as she explained it, was to help others to know what happened in Auschwitz through accurate reconstruction and meaningful displays so that it would be a visual expression of what should never be repeated. Her mission was to help restore a part of history, and to do it carefully, honestly, and with the greatest humility, in memory of all those who had been imprisoned there.

The people restoring Auschwitz might not all have felt as that young woman did about the humility, but I think it pointed out that even bringing something back into existence or repairing something that is painful and distressing is something that can be done with care. The careful work of reminding the world that this Holocaust happened, and it could happen again if we are not cautious is vital. It’s a reminder of how much history can repeat itself, like the conflicts between the Croats and the Serbians, the Hutus and the Tutsi, or any other part of the world where one group or one race or one culture seeks to wipe out any other that they feel might threaten or gain power over them. I probably should add the Israelis and the Palestinians to this, as much as it pains my heart to do so. Surely the Israelis have known what it’s like to be persecuted, hunted down, rounded up into ghettos, and killed just because of someone of their faith and their culture.

I think I will be thinking about that young worker and her explanation of what she was doing and why. Where are places in my life that I can help to restore something that needs to be remembered and not just swept under the rug? Where can I participate in Tikkun Olam, the restoration of the earth? Where can I practice the acceptance of others who are different and encourage others to do the same?

There’s a lot to be done out there, and I hope that I’m not the only one who would like to see it done, not because it makes us look good, but because the humility that we expend in this reconstruction is ultimately for the glory of God and not for our own benefit. It’s a big job, but it needs doing.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, February 9, 2019.

Numc Dimittis

Luke 2:22-40

Oscar Wilde once said, “With age comes wisdom… Usually, elders are held to be more filled with wisdom than younger folks, although, Lord knows, older people can make mistakes every bit as well as younger people can. Generally, however, by the time we reach old age, the beginning of which seems to stay ahead of us with every year we live (at least in our minds), we will have acquired some wisdom. Often we wish the young folks follow our guidance, but each generation seems to have to find its own way.

In the Bible, there are a lot of young people with wisdom. For example, Mary was a young woman who showed wisdom when confronted by a stranger in her home who proclaimed a most unexpected and perhaps unwelcome command. Her first instinct was to reject the proposal, yet eventually, she gave in. We realize that she will finally receive the wisdom that she needed to make a tough decision and to use her insight to carry her through what was undoubtedly a very trying time, probably extending to the end of her life.

But then there are elders. One of today’s readings comes from the book of Luke, and it comes as a description of the Holy Family in Jerusalem for the purification of Mary following the birth of Jesus. They had journeyed from Galilee to Jerusalem and had their avian sacrifices ready to be made as part of the ritual. They thought it would be a reasonably straightforward event, but like many things in the Bible, things didn’t exactly go as they had planned.

In the temple there was an old man, Simeon, a fixture in the temple, having served there for a number of years. We don’t know how many, but we know he was righteous and devout and waiting for a Messiah who would unify the two parts of Israel. He was not dressed in rich robes, wasn’t a high-ranking member of the temple staff, but yet had wisdom, and had been promised that he would indeed live to see the fulfillment of his greatest dream.

A small family of mother, father, and infant, walked into the temple and Simeon immediately understood that this was the moment for which he had been waiting. Perhaps the couple was a little unsettled by a strange person approaching and holding out his arms for the infant, but they put the baby in his arms and listened as he spoke:

Master, you are now dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation,

in which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for the revelation to the Gentiles

and for glory to your people Israel.

Mary and Joseph were probably dumbfounded by what they had heard, although why they should have been who knows. Still, it was reinforcement that this was just no ordinary child that they had been given to raise. Simeon had confirmed what Mary and Joseph already knew, that this was a gift from God in every sense of the word.

Also in the temple, there was an old lady, Anna by name, who had been in the temple for decades praying and fasting as a holy woman. She too held wisdom that she needed to pass on to the young family and to others who were listening. Her message was praise to God for teaching her to see the vessel by which redemption would be accomplished. This too was a message for Mary and Joseph but also for all those who read this part of Jesus’s story.

In Rembrandt’s painting, Anna has a wrinkled face although her hands look very strong. Her face is partially shadowed, but it shows a life lived long and perhaps not always comfortably. Simeon is likewise shown as an older person with a balding head and gray or white beard. I find it interesting that the passage identifies Anna by her age, but nothing about Simeon’s. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, but I do find it curious.

As I listen to the wisdom being given forth in the passage, and as a person who is approaching the final days, whether it be tomorrow or 20 years from now, I take heart in Simeon’s words of “Now let your servant depart in peace.”  I do love that phrase, not only because I have seen the salvation that Jesus offered but that I have felt that salvation and know it to be true. With that affirmation, I believe I can accept the end of my days in peace and confidence.

Every time we recite or chant the prayer of Simeon, also known as the Nunc dimittis, let us think of what those words mean to us. Without seeing a golden halo or some other physical sign, Simeon knew who this child was and what his mission would be. Perhaps it is an invitation for us too to look for the invisible signs, the signs of faith, that we have seen through the life and teachings of Jesus. Perhaps it will also be an affirmation for us and a comfort as well. 

I think this week I will be meditating on the Nunc dimittis, and probably chanting it to my not quite receptive cats. Still, I will be listening as well as chanting, and I will see what else God has to show me in this beautiful, submissive prayer that has come to be such a part of our Christian tradition and liturgy. I invite you to join with me in such meditations.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, February 2, 2019.