Sunday, May 7, 2017
The Need for Duty
If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the Lord your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted towards your needy neighbour. 8You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be. 9Be careful that you do not entertain a mean thought, thinking, ‘The seventh year, the year of remission, is near’, and therefore view your needy neighbour with hostility and give nothing; your neighbour might cry to the Lord against you, and you would incur guilt. 10Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do so, for on this account the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in all that you undertake. 11Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbour in your land.’ - Deuteronomy 15:7-11 (Reading for the commemoration of Frances Perkins, Public Servant and Prophetic Witness)
This week I've been considering the word duty. Duty, for me anyway, usually denotes an action or a commitment that I may not willingly undertake, but feel that it is necessary for me to do so. I have a duty to pray for people that I don't like, and that's a hard one for me overcome. I have a duty to pay my bills on time, to make sure I follow traffic laws, and to try to see God in each person with whom I interact directly or indirectly, whether or not I really want to even try.
This week duty came into even more focus with the retirement of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, who, at almost 96 years of age, has performed his duties with humor, a few gaffes, but a visible support to the Queen and representative of the generation were duty was a far more common word then we use today. For almost 70 years he has stood beside the Queen, supporting her in her own duties as well as carrying out his own. I look at the Duke and I see a very elderly gentleman, with bushy eyebrows, thin hair, a man who looks very different than he did in his prime, but with a very straight ramrod back of someone who had trained in the military to stand tall and do his duty. He's done his duty, and the British Commonwealth, as well as Anglophiles such as myself, salute a man who represents the true meaning of the word duty. I'm sure there were times he was bored to death, having unveiled so many plaques, opened so many different events and charities. I'm sure he couldn't have been totally utterly fascinated with all of them, but he did them anyway, and to the best of his ability. That's duty.
The commemoration for today is for a lady named Frances Perkins. Up until a few years ago, I would venture to say that most Episcopalians had never heard of Frances Perkins or, as it may be, never took any note of her presence. In 2013, she did rise to prominence with her victory in the annual Lent Madness competition to wear the Golden Halo for the year. We learned about Frances Perkins then, and it seems quite proper for us to remember her now, especially in light of current situations.
Frances Perkins was notable for being the first woman appointed to a US cabinet post by Franklin D Roosevelt. She was Secretary of Labor from 1933 to 1945 and did not just what had traditionally been a man's job, but a duty that I believe reflected her passions and more than a sprinkle of Christian values.
Among her accomplishments were her promoting and establishing adoption of programs that helped change the lives of many people:. Social Security; child labor laws; federal minimum wage laws; and unemployment insurance. That's a pretty good list and a lot of causes in which she believed passionately. Having witnessed throughout her life the struggles of the poor, unemployed, underemployed, and especially the plight of women in the workplace, she took her experiences combined with her Christian faith and her perceived duty, and worked tirelessly to change as much as she could for the benefit of those most in need.
Frances Perkins saw duty when she saw people struggling to make an honest living in a world that was very much like the one we live in today, a world of 1% versus 99%. The causes she worked for and believed in have become our causes because they are now under scrutiny and, in some cases, threatened by people who may not even know the name Frances Perkins, but they certainly see those programs so dear to her heart as nuisances and as blocks to their own success and increased wealth. We see social programs being shipped away, actions that will affect the poor and the needy, the sick, and those who have the most negligible safety nets. I wonder if the word "duty" ever comes into the conversation or even the thought of those making decisions today that affect so many millions of people, but benefits so few? I wonder what Frances would think.
Frances was a Christian (Episcopalian since young adulthood), who saw her duty and responsibility in changing the world to make it more of what God's kingdom should be than any earthly kingdom. Jesus laid the duty on all of us to care for the less fortunate, and even the Hebrew Scriptures make a priority of being generous and caring for the widows and orphans, the sick, and even the aliens, the foreigners. It was their duty given them by God, and they took it seriously. Whether with straight backs or bent ones, duty was laid on all and, they did their best.
So, where do we stand at this point in time insofar as our Christian duty as outlined by the very Bible that we proclaim to believe in and follow? Where the duties that God and Jesus appointed for us to do? How are we to conduct ourselves so that we can not only perform our duty, but to let with gladness and with pride, and also with compassion? It's our duty to create this kingdom of God on earth. God said so. So it's about time we got busy and started doing our duty.
This week I think I will try to stand a little straighter, be a little more thorough in doing my duty at whatever task I'm given, and to do it because it helps not just me but other people. I need to accept the word "duty" not as something unpleasant, but something I need to do joyfully and thoroughly, and with gratitude to God for guidance and help in this kingdom-making endeavor. One voice may not be heard by all, but it certainly can call for like-minded folk to join theirs.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, May 6, 2017.
Wednesday, May 3, 2017
Relics
It seems like, listening to the stories of some of the lives of the saints, some of them seem to have been born to be a saint. Take Catherine of Siena. She was one of a large family home it's reported that there were 25 children in all and she was probably number 25). By the time she had barely reached what we would consider school-age, she was having visions of Christ and his saints. It seemed she'd rather meditate than play with dolls or play childish games. By the age of 16, she joined what was known as the third order of St. Dominic, even though her parents still did not like the idea.
By the time of her death in 1380, she had expanded her world considerably. She was considered to be extremely wise and full of insight, and people came to her with questions and searching for answers, answers what she could guide them to finding. She was also quite a diplomat, working to resolve a schism between the two popes that were claiming papal power at the time, one in Avignon, France, and the other in Rome. She did not fully succeed in healing the breach between the two popes, but she was much admired for her tenacity and diplomacy. She was also a prolific writer, leaving us with over 400 letters.
Wise and saintly people have always been admired and revered, and their possessions, sometimes even parts of their bodies, were often kept in places of honor. They became objects of veneration and places where the sick and hopeless went to beg the specific saint for intervention on their behalf. When Catherine died, the Siennese were afraid that Rome was going to keep her and so they quietly snuck in, removed her head and thumb, and took them back to Siena to St. Dominic's Church, while her remaining remains remained in Rome. If you go to the church in Siena you will find in a beautiful case the mummified head of Catherine of Siena, and not too far away from that, you will find a reliquary containing her thumb, also mummified. In addition, we have over 400 letters and her book, the Dialog of St Catherine, also known as the Book of Divine Doctrine. It is a classic mystical work, favorably compared to Dante's Divine Comedy as representative of the attempt to express the Divine in symbols of that era.
"Relic" is a word with several definitions, but for the most part, it is defined as something from an earlier time that has some historical or sentimental value, like Catherine's head or the Shroud of Turin, George Washington's false teeth (although rather less revered as a religious icon) or the Dead Sea Scrolls.
It seems kind of barbaric to have pieces of people placed up in a place of prominence where they can be adored and used as foci for prayers and requests. Some of them are pretty gruesome. Even in our own time we still respect and revere relics, not only of saints but also other things, like memorials to famous people, their clothing or jewels, or homes or articles associated with them. But then, we flock to museums to see the mummies of ancient Egyptians, bog people, or dinosaur bones.
It seems like were learning to make our own relics. The Declaration of Independence is a relic, as are the bowls and baskets unearthed from Native American homesites like the cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde, Arizona. We learn from ancient artifacts, most of them outmoded, but some surprisingly useful even in modern times. We have the flag flown at Fort McHenry which inspired Francis Scott Key to write the lyrics to our national anthem. We have rebuilt slave quarters to remind us of our enslavement of people of color for generations. In our churches we use a sort of outmoded technology to create images and representations in stained glass of everything from images of the early saints and martyrs to the window containing a moon rock at the National Cathedral.
Relics are things which beg to be pondered. They ask us to consider what these objects, images, and artifacts meant to those who created and used them, and then what relevance they have for us today. What do they teach us? Of what do they remind us? What do they call us to do? We're used to thinking of the Bible (itself a relic) in those terms, but there are other things as well. And we can find glimpses of God in many of them, if we but look.
I may never get to Siena, but I have seen pictures of Catherine of Siena's head, and I can see why people would revere it. It brings her close to us today even though she lived hundreds of years ago. She is a reminder of how a simple person, simple in the sense of plain living but great service to others, can make a big difference in the world. Maybe we need a few more relics to remind us of that. Who knows? We might learn some lessons that we should have learned long ago.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 29, 2017.
By the time of her death in 1380, she had expanded her world considerably. She was considered to be extremely wise and full of insight, and people came to her with questions and searching for answers, answers what she could guide them to finding. She was also quite a diplomat, working to resolve a schism between the two popes that were claiming papal power at the time, one in Avignon, France, and the other in Rome. She did not fully succeed in healing the breach between the two popes, but she was much admired for her tenacity and diplomacy. She was also a prolific writer, leaving us with over 400 letters.
Wise and saintly people have always been admired and revered, and their possessions, sometimes even parts of their bodies, were often kept in places of honor. They became objects of veneration and places where the sick and hopeless went to beg the specific saint for intervention on their behalf. When Catherine died, the Siennese were afraid that Rome was going to keep her and so they quietly snuck in, removed her head and thumb, and took them back to Siena to St. Dominic's Church, while her remaining remains remained in Rome. If you go to the church in Siena you will find in a beautiful case the mummified head of Catherine of Siena, and not too far away from that, you will find a reliquary containing her thumb, also mummified. In addition, we have over 400 letters and her book, the Dialog of St Catherine, also known as the Book of Divine Doctrine. It is a classic mystical work, favorably compared to Dante's Divine Comedy as representative of the attempt to express the Divine in symbols of that era.
"Relic" is a word with several definitions, but for the most part, it is defined as something from an earlier time that has some historical or sentimental value, like Catherine's head or the Shroud of Turin, George Washington's false teeth (although rather less revered as a religious icon) or the Dead Sea Scrolls.
It seems kind of barbaric to have pieces of people placed up in a place of prominence where they can be adored and used as foci for prayers and requests. Some of them are pretty gruesome. Even in our own time we still respect and revere relics, not only of saints but also other things, like memorials to famous people, their clothing or jewels, or homes or articles associated with them. But then, we flock to museums to see the mummies of ancient Egyptians, bog people, or dinosaur bones.
It seems like were learning to make our own relics. The Declaration of Independence is a relic, as are the bowls and baskets unearthed from Native American homesites like the cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde, Arizona. We learn from ancient artifacts, most of them outmoded, but some surprisingly useful even in modern times. We have the flag flown at Fort McHenry which inspired Francis Scott Key to write the lyrics to our national anthem. We have rebuilt slave quarters to remind us of our enslavement of people of color for generations. In our churches we use a sort of outmoded technology to create images and representations in stained glass of everything from images of the early saints and martyrs to the window containing a moon rock at the National Cathedral.
Relics are things which beg to be pondered. They ask us to consider what these objects, images, and artifacts meant to those who created and used them, and then what relevance they have for us today. What do they teach us? Of what do they remind us? What do they call us to do? We're used to thinking of the Bible (itself a relic) in those terms, but there are other things as well. And we can find glimpses of God in many of them, if we but look.
I may never get to Siena, but I have seen pictures of Catherine of Siena's head, and I can see why people would revere it. It brings her close to us today even though she lived hundreds of years ago. She is a reminder of how a simple person, simple in the sense of plain living but great service to others, can make a big difference in the world. Maybe we need a few more relics to remind us of that. Who knows? We might learn some lessons that we should have learned long ago.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 29, 2017.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
What happened to "Happy Easter"?
I remember being told when I was younger that as you get older time goes by faster. It used to be the three months of summer vacation from school flew by. It hardly seemed like I had gotten out of school in the middle of June when it was time to go back again after Labor Day. Now the same period of time drags a little, mainly because of the heat here in Arizona, but it still seems to go fairly quickly when I look back on it. It's because I'm getting older I guess, but I wonder what has programmed to me to feel this way? Another mystery I have to investigate.
For instance, here it is, the middle of April, and I'm wondering why it feels like Christmas was just last week. I like Christmas, and it seems like lots of other people like Christmas too because all through December, while my denomination celebrates Advent and tries to avoid saying "Christmas" in terms of greetings, the world, even non-Christians, will often greet one another with "Merry Christmas."
There has been talk for years that there is what they call, "War on Christmas," where allegedly people are discouraged from using the word "Christmas" and especially "Merry Christmas," and encouraged to be a little more diversified, like "Happy Holidays," which, at least, has the intimation of covering all celebrations occurring in the time roughly between Christmas Day and New Year's and a bit beyond. It really isn't a war on Christmas. People say it all the time, in fact they say it usually for the whole month of December up until December 25. After December 25 world cuts out Christmas and goes on to Happy New Year. By Christmas Eve at midnight, the stores are already filling up with Valentine cards and what have you. Christmas Day? It's over, let's move on.
In a church which believes in the 12 days of Christmas ending on Epiphany on January 6, this can be somewhat discouraging. We are just getting started with the celebration of Christmas when everybody else is finished. We don't hear Christmas carols for us; we heard them during Advent, but that's only on the radio, in the stores, and in a lot of churches. We never hear them in our church, not until December 24th. There are other denominations that are the same. Yet still come December 25th, we seldom hear "Merry Christmas" for the full 12 days of the season.
But how about the season that we're in now, the Easter season? During Holy Week, the week preceding Easter, people will accept a greeting of "Happy Easter," and Easter cards, endless candy and chocolate rabbits and even chocolate crosses are presented to be consumed beginning on Easter Sunday, some of it allegedly given by the Easter Bunny. But Easter Sunday, like Christmas Day, cuts off for the rest of the world and we keep going.
Easter for us is a season of 50 days, lasting up until Pentecost which is about the end of May. Like Christmas, though, we don't really use the phrase "Happy Easter" after Easter Sunday. I wonder why that is? We don't say it the week before because we have to go through the progression of Holy Week with the adulation on Palm Sunday, focus on Judas on Tenebrae, foot washing and the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, the crucifixion and entombment of Christ on Good Friday, the waiting of Holy Saturday, and then finally on Saturday night and Sunday morning we celebrate Easter like the biggest birthday party ever. The Sunday after Easter is often called "Low Sunday" for a reason. People often feel that they've gotten their church ticket punched during Holy Week and Easter Sunday and that makes them good until Christmas. But nobody really says "Happy Easter, even this close to the day. We still have, what, six more weeks of Easter season? Why aren't we saying "Happy Easter" more often, and not just saving it for one special occasion?
During Lent and the rest of the church year, Easter is commemorated every Sunday. We celebrate a little Easter, we remember that the resurrection came on a Sunday, and we sort of go through a bit of Holy Week every Sunday morning in our liturgy. There is a procession, not necessarily waving palms, when the ministers enter the church and remind us of the procession into Jerusalem. We move on to the Eucharist which is the celebration of Jesus giving us his body and blood from the Maundy Thursday celebration. And then, like Christ arising from the tomb, we're sent out into the world to take the light and the message to the world itself. You know, though, we still don't say, "Happy Easter."
Maybe it's a picky one thing. I mean, in the greater scheme of things, how important is it that we say "Happy Easter" ? For that matter, how important is it that we say "Merry Christmas"? Or "Happy Hanukkah" (although we do it during the 8 days of Hanukkah, oddly enough). Or even using a specific greeting for Kwanzaa or any of the other religious celebrations that focus around that same time, and believe me, there's a lot more than one or two. So why is important for us to remember to say "Happy Easter"?
I think for me it's the recognition that we are still in a celebratory period. We are Easter people, and this is our season. Granted, Christmas is important, because if Jesus hadn't been born, we would not have Easter in the first place, or at least Easter as we know it. The idea is putting something out into the world with words that people can hear. Granted probably 90 people out of 100 will be thinking a person saying "Happy Easter" at toward the end of May is probably really weird. Never mind that the Orthodox are quite often week behind us on Easter, so we have a legitimate reason for saying it to all our Orthodox brothers and sisters even after we, like the stores, have packed up Easter and started to move on towards whatever comes next.
What if we actually said Happy Easter" to someone? Maybe it would prompt them to ask us why, and, there's our chance for some evangelism because we could tell them precisely why.
This week I think I'm going to try saying it to somebody. I may start off small, like my next-door neighbor, a devout Christian lady, who might be curious as to why I'm saying that. Of course, if she reads this, she'll know why, but still, after I do something once it's a lot easier to do something a second time. I may use it with my Education for Ministry groups this week, just see how they react.
He is risen, the focus message of Easter and all the little Easters that come after it. We celebrate it all year, so why not use the phrase at least during the official liturgical season? It might give us an opportunity to do a little evangelism? Maybe it would be a turnoff for some, who knows? It might just open some conversational doors. This week I'm going to try it. May I invite you to do the same? We can always give it up at Pentecost, and Christmas will be here before you know it.
God bless -- and Happy Easter.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 22, 2017.
For instance, here it is, the middle of April, and I'm wondering why it feels like Christmas was just last week. I like Christmas, and it seems like lots of other people like Christmas too because all through December, while my denomination celebrates Advent and tries to avoid saying "Christmas" in terms of greetings, the world, even non-Christians, will often greet one another with "Merry Christmas."
There has been talk for years that there is what they call, "War on Christmas," where allegedly people are discouraged from using the word "Christmas" and especially "Merry Christmas," and encouraged to be a little more diversified, like "Happy Holidays," which, at least, has the intimation of covering all celebrations occurring in the time roughly between Christmas Day and New Year's and a bit beyond. It really isn't a war on Christmas. People say it all the time, in fact they say it usually for the whole month of December up until December 25. After December 25 world cuts out Christmas and goes on to Happy New Year. By Christmas Eve at midnight, the stores are already filling up with Valentine cards and what have you. Christmas Day? It's over, let's move on.
In a church which believes in the 12 days of Christmas ending on Epiphany on January 6, this can be somewhat discouraging. We are just getting started with the celebration of Christmas when everybody else is finished. We don't hear Christmas carols for us; we heard them during Advent, but that's only on the radio, in the stores, and in a lot of churches. We never hear them in our church, not until December 24th. There are other denominations that are the same. Yet still come December 25th, we seldom hear "Merry Christmas" for the full 12 days of the season.
But how about the season that we're in now, the Easter season? During Holy Week, the week preceding Easter, people will accept a greeting of "Happy Easter," and Easter cards, endless candy and chocolate rabbits and even chocolate crosses are presented to be consumed beginning on Easter Sunday, some of it allegedly given by the Easter Bunny. But Easter Sunday, like Christmas Day, cuts off for the rest of the world and we keep going.
Easter for us is a season of 50 days, lasting up until Pentecost which is about the end of May. Like Christmas, though, we don't really use the phrase "Happy Easter" after Easter Sunday. I wonder why that is? We don't say it the week before because we have to go through the progression of Holy Week with the adulation on Palm Sunday, focus on Judas on Tenebrae, foot washing and the Last Supper on Maundy Thursday, the crucifixion and entombment of Christ on Good Friday, the waiting of Holy Saturday, and then finally on Saturday night and Sunday morning we celebrate Easter like the biggest birthday party ever. The Sunday after Easter is often called "Low Sunday" for a reason. People often feel that they've gotten their church ticket punched during Holy Week and Easter Sunday and that makes them good until Christmas. But nobody really says "Happy Easter, even this close to the day. We still have, what, six more weeks of Easter season? Why aren't we saying "Happy Easter" more often, and not just saving it for one special occasion?
During Lent and the rest of the church year, Easter is commemorated every Sunday. We celebrate a little Easter, we remember that the resurrection came on a Sunday, and we sort of go through a bit of Holy Week every Sunday morning in our liturgy. There is a procession, not necessarily waving palms, when the ministers enter the church and remind us of the procession into Jerusalem. We move on to the Eucharist which is the celebration of Jesus giving us his body and blood from the Maundy Thursday celebration. And then, like Christ arising from the tomb, we're sent out into the world to take the light and the message to the world itself. You know, though, we still don't say, "Happy Easter."
Maybe it's a picky one thing. I mean, in the greater scheme of things, how important is it that we say "Happy Easter" ? For that matter, how important is it that we say "Merry Christmas"? Or "Happy Hanukkah" (although we do it during the 8 days of Hanukkah, oddly enough). Or even using a specific greeting for Kwanzaa or any of the other religious celebrations that focus around that same time, and believe me, there's a lot more than one or two. So why is important for us to remember to say "Happy Easter"?
I think for me it's the recognition that we are still in a celebratory period. We are Easter people, and this is our season. Granted, Christmas is important, because if Jesus hadn't been born, we would not have Easter in the first place, or at least Easter as we know it. The idea is putting something out into the world with words that people can hear. Granted probably 90 people out of 100 will be thinking a person saying "Happy Easter" at toward the end of May is probably really weird. Never mind that the Orthodox are quite often week behind us on Easter, so we have a legitimate reason for saying it to all our Orthodox brothers and sisters even after we, like the stores, have packed up Easter and started to move on towards whatever comes next.
What if we actually said Happy Easter" to someone? Maybe it would prompt them to ask us why, and, there's our chance for some evangelism because we could tell them precisely why.
This week I think I'm going to try saying it to somebody. I may start off small, like my next-door neighbor, a devout Christian lady, who might be curious as to why I'm saying that. Of course, if she reads this, she'll know why, but still, after I do something once it's a lot easier to do something a second time. I may use it with my Education for Ministry groups this week, just see how they react.
He is risen, the focus message of Easter and all the little Easters that come after it. We celebrate it all year, so why not use the phrase at least during the official liturgical season? It might give us an opportunity to do a little evangelism? Maybe it would be a turnoff for some, who knows? It might just open some conversational doors. This week I'm going to try it. May I invite you to do the same? We can always give it up at Pentecost, and Christmas will be here before you know it.
God bless -- and Happy Easter.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 22, 2017.
Thursday, April 20, 2017
To Be a Fool
We are fools for Christ sake but you are wise in Christ! We are weak, but you are strong! You are distinguished, we are dishonored! — 1 Corinthians 4:10 NKJV
April Fools' Day, the day to prank just about anybody you can think of. By prank I don't mean doing something mean or hurtful to somebody, but rather some simple joke like putting a fake spider in their water glass or something similar. It's like a kid limping into the room, nearly in tears, saying, "Mommy, I got hurt!" and then, when mommy goes all sympathetic and tries to help, the child jumps up and says "April Fools!" Sometimes you wonder.
The Bible uses the word "fool" a number of times, 66 in the KJV alone. "Fool" in the Jewish tradition usually meant stupid, vile, or wicked. From the Greek, it added unbelieving, unwise, egotistical, rash, or mindless. Today's definition adds someone acting unwisely or imprudently, a silly person, or any of a number of synonyms, many of which have connotations of someone who with mental challenges, pejoratives that really have no place in a world that we are trying to make into the Kingdom of God on earth.
What I think Paul is talking about is going against the culture of the time, any time. It's in the impracticality, a countercultural move, even something that can be very dangerous, especially in the days when after Jesus's death and resurrection, where persecution of Christians was starting to be a fact of life. They were considered fools because they didn't stick with the traditional Jewish teachings and worship, even though many still went to worship at the synagogues and some even did the offerings at the temple until it was burned in 70 A.D. Little by little much of the Jewish influence was weaned out of Christianity or, as they called it, the Way, and they appeared more foolish than ever. It was foolishness to actually refused to worship Caesar is a God, no matter which religion the person was, and especially with armed soldiers standing right there and your very words and actions were most probably condemning you to death. That was foolishness. Those who felt that they were wise bent the knee to Caesar but then, in the back rooms of their homes and those of their friends and neighbors, they participated in Christian worship. Their foolishness was not trusting in God and living honestly, if apparently foolishly.
Today we look at foolishness as not following the status quo, full. Foolishness is standing with people at Standing Rock in their attempt to protect the water. It could have cost every one of them their lives, but yet they were fools for Christ, or the native peoples, or perhaps for the water itself that was precious to not only our First Nation people but to all of those who depend on that stretch of water to provide them with clean drinking water. Foolishness is standing for an organization that most people connect with abortion, but which in reality does far more for reproductive health, not just for women but also for men who might not be able to afford care or treatment or diagnosis without the help of that organization. It is considered foolishness for African-Americans to follow in the path of Martin Luther King Jr. and to use what he had taught them to protest the killing of innocent people just because of their skin color or the possibility that they might be bent on doing some kind of mischief.
The appearance of being foolish is a stigma nobody really wants to have to wear. Being foolish is really a form of insult, as if a person did not have the wit or the intelligence or the savvy to be like everyone else around them and do things the "normal" way. Being a musician is foolish, because who wants to hear a symphony when you can go down to the nearest street corner and be almost drowned in sound by boom boxes, amplified guitars and overpowering drum sets. It's foolish to fight for school lunch programs for children and Meals on Wheels for elders who are unable to get to the store or perhaps cook for themselves. Children can't learn as well when they're hungry, and elders are often ignored because they are old, they don't have a value in terms of work, or they may be too ill or infirm to make much of a contribution to the general welfare. There are so many ways to be foolish now.
Perhaps it's time for us to reclaim the foolishness and to admit that we are foolish at times. Mostly it's a negative. Jesus encouraged us to be foolish, not by pranking others or being impractical, although he did call the religious hierarchy names that corresponded with foolish or fool because of their stubbornness and spiritual blindness. Where Jesus encouraged us to be foolish is to not care what the neighbors think, but rather to do what is right and what is needed to make this kingdom of God come alive now and not just at some future point in time.
It's time to be as foolish as possible in the name of Christ. It's easy enough for me to look foolish, but what I really need to be as Christlike as possible. Maybe I can't walk from place to place like an itinerant to preacher like Jesus did, but I can work to make others more aware of the value of being foolish, being countercultural, being unlike those around us who only care for the material or what benefits them and the heck with everyone else.
This week, go thou and be foolish for Christ sake. Do what thou canst for others and glorify God for the wisdom of that foolishness. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 1, 2017.
April Fools' Day, the day to prank just about anybody you can think of. By prank I don't mean doing something mean or hurtful to somebody, but rather some simple joke like putting a fake spider in their water glass or something similar. It's like a kid limping into the room, nearly in tears, saying, "Mommy, I got hurt!" and then, when mommy goes all sympathetic and tries to help, the child jumps up and says "April Fools!" Sometimes you wonder.
The Bible uses the word "fool" a number of times, 66 in the KJV alone. "Fool" in the Jewish tradition usually meant stupid, vile, or wicked. From the Greek, it added unbelieving, unwise, egotistical, rash, or mindless. Today's definition adds someone acting unwisely or imprudently, a silly person, or any of a number of synonyms, many of which have connotations of someone who with mental challenges, pejoratives that really have no place in a world that we are trying to make into the Kingdom of God on earth.
What I think Paul is talking about is going against the culture of the time, any time. It's in the impracticality, a countercultural move, even something that can be very dangerous, especially in the days when after Jesus's death and resurrection, where persecution of Christians was starting to be a fact of life. They were considered fools because they didn't stick with the traditional Jewish teachings and worship, even though many still went to worship at the synagogues and some even did the offerings at the temple until it was burned in 70 A.D. Little by little much of the Jewish influence was weaned out of Christianity or, as they called it, the Way, and they appeared more foolish than ever. It was foolishness to actually refused to worship Caesar is a God, no matter which religion the person was, and especially with armed soldiers standing right there and your very words and actions were most probably condemning you to death. That was foolishness. Those who felt that they were wise bent the knee to Caesar but then, in the back rooms of their homes and those of their friends and neighbors, they participated in Christian worship. Their foolishness was not trusting in God and living honestly, if apparently foolishly.
Today we look at foolishness as not following the status quo, full. Foolishness is standing with people at Standing Rock in their attempt to protect the water. It could have cost every one of them their lives, but yet they were fools for Christ, or the native peoples, or perhaps for the water itself that was precious to not only our First Nation people but to all of those who depend on that stretch of water to provide them with clean drinking water. Foolishness is standing for an organization that most people connect with abortion, but which in reality does far more for reproductive health, not just for women but also for men who might not be able to afford care or treatment or diagnosis without the help of that organization. It is considered foolishness for African-Americans to follow in the path of Martin Luther King Jr. and to use what he had taught them to protest the killing of innocent people just because of their skin color or the possibility that they might be bent on doing some kind of mischief.
The appearance of being foolish is a stigma nobody really wants to have to wear. Being foolish is really a form of insult, as if a person did not have the wit or the intelligence or the savvy to be like everyone else around them and do things the "normal" way. Being a musician is foolish, because who wants to hear a symphony when you can go down to the nearest street corner and be almost drowned in sound by boom boxes, amplified guitars and overpowering drum sets. It's foolish to fight for school lunch programs for children and Meals on Wheels for elders who are unable to get to the store or perhaps cook for themselves. Children can't learn as well when they're hungry, and elders are often ignored because they are old, they don't have a value in terms of work, or they may be too ill or infirm to make much of a contribution to the general welfare. There are so many ways to be foolish now.
Perhaps it's time for us to reclaim the foolishness and to admit that we are foolish at times. Mostly it's a negative. Jesus encouraged us to be foolish, not by pranking others or being impractical, although he did call the religious hierarchy names that corresponded with foolish or fool because of their stubbornness and spiritual blindness. Where Jesus encouraged us to be foolish is to not care what the neighbors think, but rather to do what is right and what is needed to make this kingdom of God come alive now and not just at some future point in time.
It's time to be as foolish as possible in the name of Christ. It's easy enough for me to look foolish, but what I really need to be as Christlike as possible. Maybe I can't walk from place to place like an itinerant to preacher like Jesus did, but I can work to make others more aware of the value of being foolish, being countercultural, being unlike those around us who only care for the material or what benefits them and the heck with everyone else.
This week, go thou and be foolish for Christ sake. Do what thou canst for others and glorify God for the wisdom of that foolishness. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 1, 2017.
Being Disconnected
Tomorrow we celebrate Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. Tomorrow commemorates Jesus' ride into Jerusalem accompanied by people waving palms and laying them on the roadway for the colt he was riding to walk on. It was meant to be a celebration similar to a conquering hero arriving in the city, and there were crowds there to observe it, cheering and yelling "Hosanna!" It must have been quite a day.
After thinking about it a bit, I wondered what would it be like today if Jesus came into town, maybe driving a white convertible. Probably people would be so busy taking selfies and videos that wouldn't matter who this person was. There would be a lot of people looking and a lot of people recording the event for their walls and webpages, but I wonder if they were would stop to hear what he had to say, or would they be just so busy looking for a photo op or maybe a selfie with the celebrity himself, it wouldn't matter what he said. The important thing was that they got the image and used it to impress their own followers.
The world has changed a lot, I don't think anybody is denying that. Mobile generation, mobile civilization, we have instant communications so that if war breaks out, we know instantly. We don't have to wait a week for a message to get to our town from some central place where they knew what was going on. Oh no, we are connected. We check the number of friends we have on Facebook, the number of connections we have on LinkedIn, and the number of responses that we get to blog posts and whatever. Oh yes, we're connected. But if we stop and think about it, do we know our next-door neighbor's name? What about people two houses down? Do we know who they are?
No matter how much we are connected on instant media, we are still disconnected from our fellow human beings. Walking through a store or down the street, waiting in line at the post office -- everybody is so busy paying attention to their cell phone and who is texting what that there is none of the free conversation that used to be possible in those situations. Now, if someone says something to someone in line at the grocery store, or in passing, or even sitting on a park bench feeding the ducks, it's very unusual for people to strike up a conversation. We have become disconnected, no matter how much we say we are connected.
Lent is a time that we usually think about connection. We may pray more, go to church more, participate in church activities, take on Lenten duties like helping at a food bank or doing volunteer work for some organization or other as a way of taking up Jesus' cross and maybe making it a little lighter for him. Now that connects us with other people and hopefully it connects us with God a little more. We find ourselves so busy these days that it's really difficult to connect with God as easily as we can our best friend across the country on Twitter, Instant Messenger, Facebook, or texting. And , there's usually a fairly instantaneous reply. With God, though, there may be quite a wait, and an answer may never come in a way we can easily identify. So what we do is say "Okay ," and go on to the next thing, like if we called someone and only got a busy signal.
Of course, that's not the way it's supposed to be. Yes, we may have an increase in pious activities during Lent, but what about when Easter comes? Palm Sunday is the run-up, but Easter is the big event. On Easter Sunday at church, the place is jammed to the rafters and you see a lot of people that you haven't seen since last Christmas for even last Easter. It's a kind of reconnection but it's a temporary reconnection. We were told and taught to go to church on those days, even if our families were particularly religious, and that's the way we do it. Then we off the hook until next Christmas or Easter. We can disconnect again and return to our other "connected" lives.
What of the connection between us and God? And also between us and our neighbors? Of course, we're supposed to be doing this all year, but it doesn't always work that way, not in our busy lives when we barely have time to say hello to the kids, get dinner ready before it's time to go to bed. Maybe we need to do is disconnect from our connections and reconnect with one that really matters.
I've been having Internet problems with connection for the last two months. Connected, disconnected, and then the cycle repeating itself over and over again. It's frustrating, I have things I need to do online, it's important that I get these things done, but how can I do it if I keep getting disconnected? The answer is go on to the next thing to which I can and at some point in time I'll be reconnected and get as much done as I can.
With God it's a little different. With God, this connection is always on our end. God doesn't disconnect from us, we disconnect from God, and many times this God dis-connection is our perception rather than actuality. It's like taking pictures of Jesus in a white car driving over palm fronds, and being in the crowd standing there with cell phones in camera mode and taking it all in and then posting it to prove that I was there. But what was I actually there for? Am I there to actually connect with this man in the white car being treated like the greatest rock star that ever hit the planet? Am I there to hear some words of wisdom, some reassurances, some things that I need to know and encouragement to do things I need to do? When am I going to disconnect and reconnect with my priorities in order?
It's time to connect with God, and connect with my neighbor, not just on a cell phone, or chat, or a tweet, but in face-to-face, hand-to-hand, eye-to-eye ways. Time to reconnect with God, because that's the most important connection of all.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 8, 2017.
After thinking about it a bit, I wondered what would it be like today if Jesus came into town, maybe driving a white convertible. Probably people would be so busy taking selfies and videos that wouldn't matter who this person was. There would be a lot of people looking and a lot of people recording the event for their walls and webpages, but I wonder if they were would stop to hear what he had to say, or would they be just so busy looking for a photo op or maybe a selfie with the celebrity himself, it wouldn't matter what he said. The important thing was that they got the image and used it to impress their own followers.
The world has changed a lot, I don't think anybody is denying that. Mobile generation, mobile civilization, we have instant communications so that if war breaks out, we know instantly. We don't have to wait a week for a message to get to our town from some central place where they knew what was going on. Oh no, we are connected. We check the number of friends we have on Facebook, the number of connections we have on LinkedIn, and the number of responses that we get to blog posts and whatever. Oh yes, we're connected. But if we stop and think about it, do we know our next-door neighbor's name? What about people two houses down? Do we know who they are?
No matter how much we are connected on instant media, we are still disconnected from our fellow human beings. Walking through a store or down the street, waiting in line at the post office -- everybody is so busy paying attention to their cell phone and who is texting what that there is none of the free conversation that used to be possible in those situations. Now, if someone says something to someone in line at the grocery store, or in passing, or even sitting on a park bench feeding the ducks, it's very unusual for people to strike up a conversation. We have become disconnected, no matter how much we say we are connected.
Lent is a time that we usually think about connection. We may pray more, go to church more, participate in church activities, take on Lenten duties like helping at a food bank or doing volunteer work for some organization or other as a way of taking up Jesus' cross and maybe making it a little lighter for him. Now that connects us with other people and hopefully it connects us with God a little more. We find ourselves so busy these days that it's really difficult to connect with God as easily as we can our best friend across the country on Twitter, Instant Messenger, Facebook, or texting. And , there's usually a fairly instantaneous reply. With God, though, there may be quite a wait, and an answer may never come in a way we can easily identify. So what we do is say "Okay ," and go on to the next thing, like if we called someone and only got a busy signal.
Of course, that's not the way it's supposed to be. Yes, we may have an increase in pious activities during Lent, but what about when Easter comes? Palm Sunday is the run-up, but Easter is the big event. On Easter Sunday at church, the place is jammed to the rafters and you see a lot of people that you haven't seen since last Christmas for even last Easter. It's a kind of reconnection but it's a temporary reconnection. We were told and taught to go to church on those days, even if our families were particularly religious, and that's the way we do it. Then we off the hook until next Christmas or Easter. We can disconnect again and return to our other "connected" lives.
What of the connection between us and God? And also between us and our neighbors? Of course, we're supposed to be doing this all year, but it doesn't always work that way, not in our busy lives when we barely have time to say hello to the kids, get dinner ready before it's time to go to bed. Maybe we need to do is disconnect from our connections and reconnect with one that really matters.
I've been having Internet problems with connection for the last two months. Connected, disconnected, and then the cycle repeating itself over and over again. It's frustrating, I have things I need to do online, it's important that I get these things done, but how can I do it if I keep getting disconnected? The answer is go on to the next thing to which I can and at some point in time I'll be reconnected and get as much done as I can.
With God it's a little different. With God, this connection is always on our end. God doesn't disconnect from us, we disconnect from God, and many times this God dis-connection is our perception rather than actuality. It's like taking pictures of Jesus in a white car driving over palm fronds, and being in the crowd standing there with cell phones in camera mode and taking it all in and then posting it to prove that I was there. But what was I actually there for? Am I there to actually connect with this man in the white car being treated like the greatest rock star that ever hit the planet? Am I there to hear some words of wisdom, some reassurances, some things that I need to know and encouragement to do things I need to do? When am I going to disconnect and reconnect with my priorities in order?
It's time to connect with God, and connect with my neighbor, not just on a cell phone, or chat, or a tweet, but in face-to-face, hand-to-hand, eye-to-eye ways. Time to reconnect with God, because that's the most important connection of all.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 8, 2017.
Waiting
Holy Saturday has come again. It's always one of those days when I'm not too sure what to think or how to feel about it. Like most Saturdays, the church is quiet and sitting alone except for the flurry of activity of the Altar Guild preparing the altar and flowers for the following day's services. Other than that, it's another day in the life of the church, a day when there are no meetings being held in any of the various rooms, no worship being held until the Easter vigil in the evening and a sense of waiting.
It's the waiting that I think about this Holy Saturday. Recently a number of people that I know have been undergoing the pain of waiting for various things, some of them for the demise of loved ones. It is a release for the dying but it is gut wrenching for those who are waiting. Waiting like that takes a lot out of a person. For one thing, it means the imminent loss of someone very important in their lives. For another, it's almost being afraid to leave the loved one's bedside, even for a short break, because it might be just at that moment when the loved one steps from life into a larger world. It's hard, and even though we know it's going to happen, we are never really totally ready for it.
I think about Mary, Jesus's mother, and those who loved Jesus, especially Mary Magdalene and the others who gathered under the shadow that cross and watched as their loved one suffered and died knowing that they could do nothing to prevent or relieve it. It was brave of them to be where they were and to share in what was happening at the that time. It was brave because they were women, and it was unusual for them to be standing in a place of execution for criminals. But in their case, convention, rules, tradition, all went out the window. They needed to be where they were, and I do think that Jesus knew they were there. Maybe in one small part of his brain not consumed with pain and loss, he blessed them for staying with him. It must have been hard waiting, with the sun shining down on them, no benches or chairs to sit on, and is certainly the only ones giving them any sympathy at all were the members of their own small group. Still they waited, just as we in the church wait and watch and pray from Good Friday until we rekindle the light at the Vigil.
For them, the end came and released them from the agony of the deathwatch, but it was so close to sundown that they didn't have time to prepare the body for burial as they would normally have done. The body was taken down from the cross and quickly whisked away to the tomb where the stone was rolled across it and they could not go in. They had to wait until after the Sabbath was over before they could return to do what needed to be done. So they waited.
Male disciples waited too, in their own way, up in that room where they had last gathered with Jesus and wondered what was going to become of them. They feared that they were known to be Jesus's followers and, as such, were at risk of arrest and possible crucifixion themselves. So they sat and worried about their own futures and what they should do now that they were leaderless in a hostile environment. The two groups waited, although it was a different kind of wait.
Holy Saturday for most people these days is just a normal day like any other day. We mow the grass, go to the store, go shopping, and watch whatever sport is on TV as a way of rewinding. We are not waiting, we are busy doing things, we go on with life as if nothing important happened or is happening, that is, unless we become one of those who are forced into waiting for something. At that time, we can put ourselves in the same place with the women at the foot of the cross. We're suffering, and we look up and see one who suffers even more. We look on the face of our loved one and we hope to see the look of peace in the time before their last breaths, but we keep waiting until the inevitable happens. Then, and only then, can we take a deep breath and let the tears roll and we can express our own grief, selfish grief because we have lost something someone precious, but also a joyful time knowing that a loved one has found his or her way out of this world and into the next.
So today is a day of waiting. It's a day to spend some time contemplating and praying and most of all watching with those who are suffering, whether physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally. It may be a day where all of us can join those standing at the foot of the cross and then waiting before the sealed tomb, with faith that in the morning our sorrow be lessened and our weeping will turn to joy.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, April 15, 2017.
It's the waiting that I think about this Holy Saturday. Recently a number of people that I know have been undergoing the pain of waiting for various things, some of them for the demise of loved ones. It is a release for the dying but it is gut wrenching for those who are waiting. Waiting like that takes a lot out of a person. For one thing, it means the imminent loss of someone very important in their lives. For another, it's almost being afraid to leave the loved one's bedside, even for a short break, because it might be just at that moment when the loved one steps from life into a larger world. It's hard, and even though we know it's going to happen, we are never really totally ready for it.
I think about Mary, Jesus's mother, and those who loved Jesus, especially Mary Magdalene and the others who gathered under the shadow that cross and watched as their loved one suffered and died knowing that they could do nothing to prevent or relieve it. It was brave of them to be where they were and to share in what was happening at the that time. It was brave because they were women, and it was unusual for them to be standing in a place of execution for criminals. But in their case, convention, rules, tradition, all went out the window. They needed to be where they were, and I do think that Jesus knew they were there. Maybe in one small part of his brain not consumed with pain and loss, he blessed them for staying with him. It must have been hard waiting, with the sun shining down on them, no benches or chairs to sit on, and is certainly the only ones giving them any sympathy at all were the members of their own small group. Still they waited, just as we in the church wait and watch and pray from Good Friday until we rekindle the light at the Vigil.
For them, the end came and released them from the agony of the deathwatch, but it was so close to sundown that they didn't have time to prepare the body for burial as they would normally have done. The body was taken down from the cross and quickly whisked away to the tomb where the stone was rolled across it and they could not go in. They had to wait until after the Sabbath was over before they could return to do what needed to be done. So they waited.
Male disciples waited too, in their own way, up in that room where they had last gathered with Jesus and wondered what was going to become of them. They feared that they were known to be Jesus's followers and, as such, were at risk of arrest and possible crucifixion themselves. So they sat and worried about their own futures and what they should do now that they were leaderless in a hostile environment. The two groups waited, although it was a different kind of wait.
Holy Saturday for most people these days is just a normal day like any other day. We mow the grass, go to the store, go shopping, and watch whatever sport is on TV as a way of rewinding. We are not waiting, we are busy doing things, we go on with life as if nothing important happened or is happening, that is, unless we become one of those who are forced into waiting for something. At that time, we can put ourselves in the same place with the women at the foot of the cross. We're suffering, and we look up and see one who suffers even more. We look on the face of our loved one and we hope to see the look of peace in the time before their last breaths, but we keep waiting until the inevitable happens. Then, and only then, can we take a deep breath and let the tears roll and we can express our own grief, selfish grief because we have lost something someone precious, but also a joyful time knowing that a loved one has found his or her way out of this world and into the next.
So today is a day of waiting. It's a day to spend some time contemplating and praying and most of all watching with those who are suffering, whether physically, mentally, spiritually, or emotionally. It may be a day where all of us can join those standing at the foot of the cross and then waiting before the sealed tomb, with faith that in the morning our sorrow be lessened and our weeping will turn to joy.
God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, April 15, 2017.
Thursday, March 30, 2017
A Scent of Gratitude
Now and then there comes a moment when time seems to stop, even for the merest fraction of a second, and in that fraction of a second something becomes so clear that it's almost heartbreaking. It happened to me the other morning when I went to feed the outside cats. It was just about dawn, and the air was moderately crisp, given the temperatures we've been having during the day lately. In my hurry to get the cats fed I didn't notice anything special, but when I turned to go back to the house all of a sudden there was this most marvelous scent. I looked at my jasmine growing up one of the patio supports. I couldn't see any blooms although there were plenty of buds, but still there was a slight whiff of something sweet coming from it. Then I noticed an even stronger fragrance coming from the orange trees across the road. Between the two it was such a delightful aroma that I wanted it to last forever. Unfortunately, like most things that attract me by scent, the olfactory centers quickly assume that that is normal and move on to something else, so I can't smell it anymore. It's only for a short period of time that it's new enough to the nose that I can actually smell us and enjoy it.
There are other times when I know I noticed a pleasant odor or tang that that has a trigger to it that cascades memories and sometimes new thoughts in my head. Give me a whiff of salt water and I'm back home on my river even though I'm thousands of miles away. The scent of pine, the smell of rain, the aura and warmth of wax candles, like a bayberry one at Christmas or the beeswax ones in church. Speaking of church, there's a remnant of, the scent of incense in church from years of high holy day celebrations. Then there's the perfume mama used to wear, and her hand lotion. There are probably a hundred others ( would recognize that I can't remember right at the moment, but if I caught a bit of their scent then I would react to it.
The world we are more accustomed to smelling is one of diesel fumes or auto exhaust, hot tar, fresh-cut grass, the neighbor's steaks on the grill, the sweaty smell of the gym, some pleasant, some pungent. We lose ignore smells because there are more important sensory work going on. Still, it's hard to walk past a stand of flowers in the grocery store this time of year, because there is a fragrance of hyacinths, and it reminds me of the hyacinths back home in the spring. I can walk by the fruit and for a moment I'll smell the strawberries or oranges or even some of the vegetables, and I remember how amazing they smell compared to the aisle full of air fresheners which, while they smell good, or so I'm told, they don't necessarily do the trick.
As I stood there the other morning enjoying the brief encounter with the orange blossoms and the jasmine, it was easy for me to be thankful for such an enjoyable treat. I'm afraid there many times when I fail to be thankful for little things like sweet scent in the air or the flight of the hummingbird or even a gorgeous sunset. I've been churches were there was an indefinable smell of furniture polish and candles with maybe just a tiny bit of leftover incense last used months ago. It seems to soak into the place and it adds a kind of what used to be called an "odor of sanctity", a smell that reminded me that I was in a holy place, and one where such things help me to relax and to fall into a little bit more meditative mood simply .
When was the last time I stopped to smell something like I did the other morning? I did this morning after I finish mopping the floor and the Pine-Sol made the house smell nice and clean. After that I gave thanks. There are times I give thanks for the smell of clean sheets or the almond oil for the wood furniture. Perhaps the sense of smell is somehow attached to a feeling of love? Well, some of them, anyway. It's hard to love the smell of a diesel bus exhaust.
So where am I going to allow scent to take me this week? There are many pungent smells, many of them unpleasant, that I run across on a daily basis, but how do I create a thankfulness moment with fragrance that gives my heart a little bit of joy? Febreze won't always do it, and now they tell us not to burn candles because of the lead in the wick, and one can only take so much Pine-Sol. So my next search is to look for something somewhere, inside or out, that will help me find a moment of joy and a moment of thankfulness. After all, God made smells as well as sights and sounds and tastes and touches. God put them there for us to use and to enjoy and also spur us on to clean up the unpleasant and rejoice in the pleasant. So this week I need to find something to bring that to mind are more regular basis.
Go thou and find something beautiful and sweet and fresh, then remember to thank God for it. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 25, 2017.
Sunday, March 19, 2017
God in Creation
The wider our contemplation of creation, the grander is our conception of God. - Cyril of Jerusalem
This week I've been thinking about climate, weather, and all that they entail. It could be that the temperature here in the Phoenix area has been around 90°, and this is only the middle of March! Our average is at least 10° below that, so please don't mention that global warming doesn't exist. At least don't mention it to me.
Climate is part of what makes our world work. Climate defines how much rainfall we get, or are supposed to get. It defines a basic temperature range, what kind of precipitation we can expect, or not expect. It defines where we spend our time, if we have the ability. Folks who freeze to death in Minnesota cheerfully drive down to the Phoenix area for the winter because it seldom freezes, and is usually warm enough for them to run around in Bermuda shorts and T-shirts when people like me who live here are bundled up against what we perceive as cold. My friend in Oregon groans when I tell her it's 90° here because she still cold and getting snow and lots of rain. Can't please everybody I guess.
Climate has changed over centuries and millennia. When the world was new and pristine it was like a huge garden, or so we are told. There were deserts I'm sure, just as I'm sure there were mountains where the snow never melted and glaciers that crept along and kept forming along with the ice caps. I'm sure there were things like earthquakes and massive windstorms, and typhoons and hurricanes and volcanic eruptions, all affecting our world and our climate in one way or another.
Thing is, God created the world to run according to certain rules. If the balance of things gets out of kilter, something happens. Take fault lines. when the pressure builds up to a certain point, something's gotta give, and so the earth shakes, rumbles, and acts like an old man trying to get comfortable in a lumpy bed. When a warm air current runs into a cold air current, all kinds of interesting (more or less) happens. God set the rules, then set the world in motion, and it's been following those rules all along - until humans decided to play God and change things. Too bad we're not God-wise enough to see clearly what we're doing.
Since we are unable to control a lot of what goes on in creation, especially when it comes to things like creation itself, we're just out of luck. We have to admire the fact that God put everything together like a clockmaker forming an instrument that would run well, keep accurate time, and also be interesting to look at. The clockmaker might add a set of gears that would show which planets were circling overhead as well as tell the time of day, chimes on the hour and a quarter hour, and even a very comforting tick-tock as the pendulum swings back and forth. Creation is a bit like that. It started out as finely tuned as a watch of the finest craftsmanship. But then we started "improving." We completely left God out of creation and put ourselves in.
I've never been to the Grand Canyon, but I've seen enough pictures from enough different viewpoints that I have no doubt that it is a most spectacular place to see. I've seen great mountains and I've overlooked the Shenandoah Rivers, so old that in places the sides of almost every curve in the river almost touch each other. I seen storms at sea and I've seen the fury of hurricanes and typhoons. I've felt the rumble and shake of a big earthquake, or even a small one for that matter. Every time I run across something like that it reminds me of how immense this world is and how tiny I am, and then I think about God.
God is so much more than the clockmaker who set this one little blue marble in motion. It's part of a small universe in a small galaxy off to one side of a super galaxy billions and trillions of miles from the next galaxy or the next star is. We look through telescopes to see if we can find God, but what we find is that the universe is infinitely more expansive, more complex, and more spectacular than we could possibly have ever dreamt, and we haven't even found the edge of it yet, for all our technology and our looking.
We still haven't found God, but we have found what God created. I have to agree with Cyril, I can't contemplate creation without being totally in awe of the Supreme Being with such immense power and such immense love, a God who is the creator of worlds and universes but who willingly cradles each of us in God's hands, especially when we need a little nurturing.
This week I will contemplate the mystery of God in the enormous diversity of creation itself and my place in it. I look up at Orion, my favorite constellation, and think of all that lies beyond it even as I look at the familiar shape that I have seen many times from my childhood. It's God's work, and all that is in that creation, from the lichens on the rocks in the woods and the moss beside streams, to the vast variety of animals. I think about the different kinds of trees and the adorable innocence of babies and kittens and puppies. We are all made of star stuff because God made the stars from stardust and, as we are told on Ash Wednesday, we are dust and to dust we shall return. Guess who made the dust?
In the creation that is God's playground, go thou and find something awesome in creation that points thee to God. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 18, 2017.
This week I've been thinking about climate, weather, and all that they entail. It could be that the temperature here in the Phoenix area has been around 90°, and this is only the middle of March! Our average is at least 10° below that, so please don't mention that global warming doesn't exist. At least don't mention it to me.
Climate is part of what makes our world work. Climate defines how much rainfall we get, or are supposed to get. It defines a basic temperature range, what kind of precipitation we can expect, or not expect. It defines where we spend our time, if we have the ability. Folks who freeze to death in Minnesota cheerfully drive down to the Phoenix area for the winter because it seldom freezes, and is usually warm enough for them to run around in Bermuda shorts and T-shirts when people like me who live here are bundled up against what we perceive as cold. My friend in Oregon groans when I tell her it's 90° here because she still cold and getting snow and lots of rain. Can't please everybody I guess.
Climate has changed over centuries and millennia. When the world was new and pristine it was like a huge garden, or so we are told. There were deserts I'm sure, just as I'm sure there were mountains where the snow never melted and glaciers that crept along and kept forming along with the ice caps. I'm sure there were things like earthquakes and massive windstorms, and typhoons and hurricanes and volcanic eruptions, all affecting our world and our climate in one way or another.
Thing is, God created the world to run according to certain rules. If the balance of things gets out of kilter, something happens. Take fault lines. when the pressure builds up to a certain point, something's gotta give, and so the earth shakes, rumbles, and acts like an old man trying to get comfortable in a lumpy bed. When a warm air current runs into a cold air current, all kinds of interesting (more or less) happens. God set the rules, then set the world in motion, and it's been following those rules all along - until humans decided to play God and change things. Too bad we're not God-wise enough to see clearly what we're doing.
Since we are unable to control a lot of what goes on in creation, especially when it comes to things like creation itself, we're just out of luck. We have to admire the fact that God put everything together like a clockmaker forming an instrument that would run well, keep accurate time, and also be interesting to look at. The clockmaker might add a set of gears that would show which planets were circling overhead as well as tell the time of day, chimes on the hour and a quarter hour, and even a very comforting tick-tock as the pendulum swings back and forth. Creation is a bit like that. It started out as finely tuned as a watch of the finest craftsmanship. But then we started "improving." We completely left God out of creation and put ourselves in.
I've never been to the Grand Canyon, but I've seen enough pictures from enough different viewpoints that I have no doubt that it is a most spectacular place to see. I've seen great mountains and I've overlooked the Shenandoah Rivers, so old that in places the sides of almost every curve in the river almost touch each other. I seen storms at sea and I've seen the fury of hurricanes and typhoons. I've felt the rumble and shake of a big earthquake, or even a small one for that matter. Every time I run across something like that it reminds me of how immense this world is and how tiny I am, and then I think about God.
God is so much more than the clockmaker who set this one little blue marble in motion. It's part of a small universe in a small galaxy off to one side of a super galaxy billions and trillions of miles from the next galaxy or the next star is. We look through telescopes to see if we can find God, but what we find is that the universe is infinitely more expansive, more complex, and more spectacular than we could possibly have ever dreamt, and we haven't even found the edge of it yet, for all our technology and our looking.
We still haven't found God, but we have found what God created. I have to agree with Cyril, I can't contemplate creation without being totally in awe of the Supreme Being with such immense power and such immense love, a God who is the creator of worlds and universes but who willingly cradles each of us in God's hands, especially when we need a little nurturing.
This week I will contemplate the mystery of God in the enormous diversity of creation itself and my place in it. I look up at Orion, my favorite constellation, and think of all that lies beyond it even as I look at the familiar shape that I have seen many times from my childhood. It's God's work, and all that is in that creation, from the lichens on the rocks in the woods and the moss beside streams, to the vast variety of animals. I think about the different kinds of trees and the adorable innocence of babies and kittens and puppies. We are all made of star stuff because God made the stars from stardust and, as we are told on Ash Wednesday, we are dust and to dust we shall return. Guess who made the dust?
In the creation that is God's playground, go thou and find something awesome in creation that points thee to God. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 18, 2017.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Saints and Sinners -- with a nod to Lent Madness
The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past and every sinner has a future. Oscar Wilde
We're already one full week into Lent. By now we've started to miss the little things that we gave up and maybe chafing a bit at the extra that we've taken on, but that's what Lent is, a time to make changes, look inside and see what needs to be pitched out and what can be dusted off and put back on the shelf.
It's also a time for that monumental event, Lent Madness. It's a celebration of both saints and ordinary people, all of whom have and all of whom have done marvelous, remarkable things. They've started schools, traveled the world preaching the gospel, may have smuggled people from a place of danger to a place of safety at risk of their own lives. They have made music, they have started organizations to take care of the less fortunate, they have risked all to help fellow human beings. Many of them may not be canonized, or officially recognized by the Roman Catholic Church, but Episcopalians can still consider them saints. Look at Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, Julian of Norwich, among many others. Lent Madness makes us aware of some of the lesser-known capital S Saints (canonized) and lower case saints. It teaches us their lives were like and how they came to wear the crowns of saints and martyrs and the like.
I doubt that anyone would consider Oscar Wilde a saint. He was a wordsmith of the highest caliber, had a wicked sense of humor, and was the author of plays, poems, and novels, as well as a wry commenter on just about everything. One thing about Oscar Wilde that many would consider a barrier to his being considered any kind of saint was the fact that he was homosexual in a time when homosexuality was not only frowned upon but isolating and dangerous. That made me think about what the quote that I used this morning about every saint having a past that every sinner having a future. Oscar Wilde definitely gave credence to that statement, whether you considered him a saint for his writing or a sinner for who he was.
We often think of saints as people who were recognized from the very beginning as saintly, even as children. Some of them spent hours in church as small children. Joan of Arc prayed and heard voices and saw visions in as a preteen. St. Bernadette, many of the medieval female saints, began early in their lives to be called to God's service as cloistered nuns -rather than follow the norm of getting married and having lots of children. The thing was that even though many of them were good little girls (and boys too), they also had a little quirks and flaws that might somehow tarnish their image of being as close to perfection as a body could get on earth.
Mary Magdalene , was considered to be a harlot for many centuries, despite her closeness to Jesus and her accolade as the Disciple to the Disciples. In the fifth century an Orthodox priest proclaimed that she was a harlot and poor Mary didn't get her reputation back until the 1960s. Is a long time to go with the tarnished reputation. There are tales in the gospel of Thomas of Jesus being somewhat naughty from time to time but yet we overlook those things if we even know about them because were accustomed to the four Gospels were Jesus never put a foot wrong. It's like we want people to be worse then we are. If they can become saints, what's stopping us?
Every saint had a past of some sort, but if I look at the second half of the quotation, it makes a balance that I haven't really thought about that much before. To go with every saint has a past, Wilde put that every sinner had a future. Just because a person has a "past" does not mean that is the only option for them. They can change. They may feel a call from God that they were not expecting, pr something which involved a complete turnaround in their manner of life and thought.
I myself have a past. A lot of it is stiff that I would not be even remotely proud of; in fact, I'm shamed by a good deal of it. Being brought up with shame as something that was a part of our religious tradition, and being imprinted at such a young age with that particular theology, it was and is kind of hard to get past it. But I have learned that I'm not stuck in that sinful past unless I choose to be. I have the ability and hopefully the desire to make changes, whether in or outside of Lent, to move from abject sinner perhaps not to saint, but at least to someone who is seen the folly of sin and decided to get past that.
So this week, I think I will be trying to be a little more of a saint than a sinner. I will feel a little more saintly once I get the house clean, and the laundry is caught up, and the yard mowed, but that's only stuff that benefits me. I need to find something to do in my life this week that can make a difference in someone else's life, not to put a halo on my head, but to do what Jesus said about loving my neighbor as myself and help other people who need help. It's going to be interesting to see how I can resolve that.
So let's all try this week to look at the bracket of Lent Madness, read the biographies of the saints proposed, and find something that we can have in common with those formerly sinful people, many who don't have the word "saint" in front of their name. It might just be an enlightening adventure.
Go thou, play Lent Madness, and find a link to a future of sainthood. God bless.
PS. Wilde also said, "The Roman Catholic Church is for saints and sinners alone -- for respectable people. the Anglican Church will do." (Disclaimer -- he said it, but I don't think I totally buy it, I think.)
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 11, 2017.
We're already one full week into Lent. By now we've started to miss the little things that we gave up and maybe chafing a bit at the extra that we've taken on, but that's what Lent is, a time to make changes, look inside and see what needs to be pitched out and what can be dusted off and put back on the shelf.
It's also a time for that monumental event, Lent Madness. It's a celebration of both saints and ordinary people, all of whom have and all of whom have done marvelous, remarkable things. They've started schools, traveled the world preaching the gospel, may have smuggled people from a place of danger to a place of safety at risk of their own lives. They have made music, they have started organizations to take care of the less fortunate, they have risked all to help fellow human beings. Many of them may not be canonized, or officially recognized by the Roman Catholic Church, but Episcopalians can still consider them saints. Look at Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, Julian of Norwich, among many others. Lent Madness makes us aware of some of the lesser-known capital S Saints (canonized) and lower case saints. It teaches us their lives were like and how they came to wear the crowns of saints and martyrs and the like.
I doubt that anyone would consider Oscar Wilde a saint. He was a wordsmith of the highest caliber, had a wicked sense of humor, and was the author of plays, poems, and novels, as well as a wry commenter on just about everything. One thing about Oscar Wilde that many would consider a barrier to his being considered any kind of saint was the fact that he was homosexual in a time when homosexuality was not only frowned upon but isolating and dangerous. That made me think about what the quote that I used this morning about every saint having a past that every sinner having a future. Oscar Wilde definitely gave credence to that statement, whether you considered him a saint for his writing or a sinner for who he was.
We often think of saints as people who were recognized from the very beginning as saintly, even as children. Some of them spent hours in church as small children. Joan of Arc prayed and heard voices and saw visions in as a preteen. St. Bernadette, many of the medieval female saints, began early in their lives to be called to God's service as cloistered nuns -rather than follow the norm of getting married and having lots of children. The thing was that even though many of them were good little girls (and boys too), they also had a little quirks and flaws that might somehow tarnish their image of being as close to perfection as a body could get on earth.
Mary Magdalene , was considered to be a harlot for many centuries, despite her closeness to Jesus and her accolade as the Disciple to the Disciples. In the fifth century an Orthodox priest proclaimed that she was a harlot and poor Mary didn't get her reputation back until the 1960s. Is a long time to go with the tarnished reputation. There are tales in the gospel of Thomas of Jesus being somewhat naughty from time to time but yet we overlook those things if we even know about them because were accustomed to the four Gospels were Jesus never put a foot wrong. It's like we want people to be worse then we are. If they can become saints, what's stopping us?
Every saint had a past of some sort, but if I look at the second half of the quotation, it makes a balance that I haven't really thought about that much before. To go with every saint has a past, Wilde put that every sinner had a future. Just because a person has a "past" does not mean that is the only option for them. They can change. They may feel a call from God that they were not expecting, pr something which involved a complete turnaround in their manner of life and thought.
I myself have a past. A lot of it is stiff that I would not be even remotely proud of; in fact, I'm shamed by a good deal of it. Being brought up with shame as something that was a part of our religious tradition, and being imprinted at such a young age with that particular theology, it was and is kind of hard to get past it. But I have learned that I'm not stuck in that sinful past unless I choose to be. I have the ability and hopefully the desire to make changes, whether in or outside of Lent, to move from abject sinner perhaps not to saint, but at least to someone who is seen the folly of sin and decided to get past that.
So this week, I think I will be trying to be a little more of a saint than a sinner. I will feel a little more saintly once I get the house clean, and the laundry is caught up, and the yard mowed, but that's only stuff that benefits me. I need to find something to do in my life this week that can make a difference in someone else's life, not to put a halo on my head, but to do what Jesus said about loving my neighbor as myself and help other people who need help. It's going to be interesting to see how I can resolve that.
So let's all try this week to look at the bracket of Lent Madness, read the biographies of the saints proposed, and find something that we can have in common with those formerly sinful people, many who don't have the word "saint" in front of their name. It might just be an enlightening adventure.
Go thou, play Lent Madness, and find a link to a future of sainthood. God bless.
PS. Wilde also said, "The Roman Catholic Church is for saints and sinners alone -- for respectable people. the Anglican Church will do." (Disclaimer -- he said it, but I don't think I totally buy it, I think.)
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 11, 2017.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
Celebration in Lent
Family doesn't have to be your relatives. Family means that your life is part of someone else's, like sections of hair that need each other to form a braid. — Michelle Bender.
Something I've always known about families is that they don't always have to be related people, related by blood, that is. Family can be people you related to, people you have something in common with, people with whom you are in community, and people who come into your life almost by coincidence and set up a place all their own in your heart. I've got lots of friends and I love them all, but you know, sometimes there are just special people that do have a place no one else could possibly fill, people that, that no matter how long it's been since you've seen each other or talked, when we connect it's like the years have become minutes and we pick up immediately where you left off.
I got an invitation in the mail this past week to a celebration, the 70th wedding anniversary of two people I've known for probably 35 years or so, and who have been like a family to me in every good sense of the word. It will be a celebration, because honoring a commitment of 70 years is something indeed worth celebrating. I saw a quote from Paul Sweeney that struck me when I found it just after receiving the invitation. "A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance, and tenacity. The order varies for any given year." I have a feeling any marriage of any length would find it applicable, and especially those who have lasted for decades.
These friends, a priest and his wife, have been warm, full of hospitality, full of laughs, full of good food, good company, and willing to share. There are both highly intelligent people, and very talented in very different ways. Perhaps that's what has helped make their marriage survive. That plus they have three great kids, they have grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The whole family devoted to each other and I think that has helped make the marriage strong. It's only right to celebrate an event like this for special people like them. Even though its Lent, it's time to celebrate two lives which, while maybe not perfect (at least not 100% of the time, anyway), are nonetheless an example of commitment.
We don't usually consider Lent as a time for celebrations. Lent is supposed to be a time of reflection and repentance and change. One is supposed to give up things, or at least that's used to be the prevailing thought. It was a big deal to give up coffee, or chocolate, or maybe going to the movies for Lent, but that has sort of taken on a new emphasis. It is not so much about giving up of favorite things, although that is still encouraged, but now we are encouraged to take on things, usually charitable works or more religious practice and reading. At any rate, Lent is a time of solemnity and, sometimes, a bit overwhelming when we consider our very own sins for any length of time.
There's a saying by Robert Orben that makes me chuckle but also reflects a deeper truth. "Most people would like to be delivered from temptation but would like it to keep in touch." It's hard to try and change habits and give up our beloved little sins for 40 days. It's hard to be reminded of our sinful natures and our shortcomings, and sometimes that can get to be just a little much. It can become very depressing. Of course, it's good for us to examine our faults and flaws, although it's not as easy as examining other people's. Still, in Lent, we're supposed to think about our own sins and how they need to be fixed, changed, or done away with.
Then, in the midst of all this, there comes a celebration like my friends' wedding anniversary, and you know, why shouldn't we have celebrations during Lent? If I stop and think about it, Lent is 40 days spread over six weeks. That comes out to 6.6666666 days of repentence we round out to 6 days a week. But what about that other day, the day we call Sunday? It's still part of the week, but it's not considered a Lenten day. Oh yes, it the church colors are still the purple of repentance and our readings are generally dealing with sin and salvation from those sins, but Sunday is like a day off, a time to celebrate.
We gather on Sunday in church and lo and behold, even though we have put away a specific word like "Alleluia" which is word of joy, we still have a celebration. We still gather as a family to celebrate the Eucharist, and that's a celebration. It's joyfully gathering together in the presence of God to partake of a family meal instituted by Jesus to join us together in our faith. It's not simply a reenactment, it is a celebration in every sense of the word.
During Lent we celebrate things like birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, births, and promotions, and we look forward to Easter where there will be celebrations of baptisms where new Christians will be brought into the church as we rejoice in the resurrection of our Lord. Then will celebrate the Eucharist on Easter just like we do every Sunday and it will be another celebration for us.
So to all those who celebrate something during Lent, it's cause for joy even in the midst of repentance. So happy anniversary, Jack and Bettie. May you continue to remind us that a braid is made up of individual strands, and each strand strengthens the whole exponentially. May you have more anniversaries, family births, baptisms, confirmations, weddings and just joyful get-togethers.
For all of us, go thou and celebrate. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 4, 2017.
Something I've always known about families is that they don't always have to be related people, related by blood, that is. Family can be people you related to, people you have something in common with, people with whom you are in community, and people who come into your life almost by coincidence and set up a place all their own in your heart. I've got lots of friends and I love them all, but you know, sometimes there are just special people that do have a place no one else could possibly fill, people that, that no matter how long it's been since you've seen each other or talked, when we connect it's like the years have become minutes and we pick up immediately where you left off.
I got an invitation in the mail this past week to a celebration, the 70th wedding anniversary of two people I've known for probably 35 years or so, and who have been like a family to me in every good sense of the word. It will be a celebration, because honoring a commitment of 70 years is something indeed worth celebrating. I saw a quote from Paul Sweeney that struck me when I found it just after receiving the invitation. "A wedding anniversary is the celebration of love, trust, partnership, tolerance, and tenacity. The order varies for any given year." I have a feeling any marriage of any length would find it applicable, and especially those who have lasted for decades.
These friends, a priest and his wife, have been warm, full of hospitality, full of laughs, full of good food, good company, and willing to share. There are both highly intelligent people, and very talented in very different ways. Perhaps that's what has helped make their marriage survive. That plus they have three great kids, they have grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The whole family devoted to each other and I think that has helped make the marriage strong. It's only right to celebrate an event like this for special people like them. Even though its Lent, it's time to celebrate two lives which, while maybe not perfect (at least not 100% of the time, anyway), are nonetheless an example of commitment.
We don't usually consider Lent as a time for celebrations. Lent is supposed to be a time of reflection and repentance and change. One is supposed to give up things, or at least that's used to be the prevailing thought. It was a big deal to give up coffee, or chocolate, or maybe going to the movies for Lent, but that has sort of taken on a new emphasis. It is not so much about giving up of favorite things, although that is still encouraged, but now we are encouraged to take on things, usually charitable works or more religious practice and reading. At any rate, Lent is a time of solemnity and, sometimes, a bit overwhelming when we consider our very own sins for any length of time.
There's a saying by Robert Orben that makes me chuckle but also reflects a deeper truth. "Most people would like to be delivered from temptation but would like it to keep in touch." It's hard to try and change habits and give up our beloved little sins for 40 days. It's hard to be reminded of our sinful natures and our shortcomings, and sometimes that can get to be just a little much. It can become very depressing. Of course, it's good for us to examine our faults and flaws, although it's not as easy as examining other people's. Still, in Lent, we're supposed to think about our own sins and how they need to be fixed, changed, or done away with.
Then, in the midst of all this, there comes a celebration like my friends' wedding anniversary, and you know, why shouldn't we have celebrations during Lent? If I stop and think about it, Lent is 40 days spread over six weeks. That comes out to 6.6666666 days of repentence we round out to 6 days a week. But what about that other day, the day we call Sunday? It's still part of the week, but it's not considered a Lenten day. Oh yes, it the church colors are still the purple of repentance and our readings are generally dealing with sin and salvation from those sins, but Sunday is like a day off, a time to celebrate.
We gather on Sunday in church and lo and behold, even though we have put away a specific word like "Alleluia" which is word of joy, we still have a celebration. We still gather as a family to celebrate the Eucharist, and that's a celebration. It's joyfully gathering together in the presence of God to partake of a family meal instituted by Jesus to join us together in our faith. It's not simply a reenactment, it is a celebration in every sense of the word.
During Lent we celebrate things like birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, births, and promotions, and we look forward to Easter where there will be celebrations of baptisms where new Christians will be brought into the church as we rejoice in the resurrection of our Lord. Then will celebrate the Eucharist on Easter just like we do every Sunday and it will be another celebration for us.
So to all those who celebrate something during Lent, it's cause for joy even in the midst of repentance. So happy anniversary, Jack and Bettie. May you continue to remind us that a braid is made up of individual strands, and each strand strengthens the whole exponentially. May you have more anniversaries, family births, baptisms, confirmations, weddings and just joyful get-togethers.
For all of us, go thou and celebrate. God bless.
Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 4, 2017.
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