Sacred Spaces

Today we celebrate the commemoration of St. Columba, best known for his missionary work in Ireland and Scotland and his establishment of three religious communities, perhaps the most famous of them at Iona, a tiny island off the coast of Scotland. Columba set up Iona to use as a base for the mission work of converting the Picts and the Scots. At Iona, Columba ultimately baptized both the King of the Picts and the King of the Scots. Iona became known as the “Holy Isle,” a title which is still used today.

Iona, as Columba had established it in 563, was destroyed by Viking marauders around 806, around the time of the creation of one of Iona’s most famous works of art, the Book of Kells. Through the centuries since, it has been a place of pilgrimage, a place where even when thinking about it, one wants to take off one's shoes because it's holy ground. Was it because of the martyrdom of the victims of the marauders while upholding their Christian faith? Very possibly, or perhaps it was because of the sanctity of Columba and his influence, which, by the time of the destruction of Iona, had spread across Scotland and northern Britain, converting many and continuing to spread.

I've never been to Iona. I've read a lot about it, and I've known some people who've been there. The consensus is that it is a very holy place of peace, quiet, tranquility, and inspiration, among ancient ruins and large stone Celtic cross carvings. That's what is sacred space is: somewhere were all those ingredients come together to make individuals aware holiness all around them in the ground they walk on, the air they breathe, and the sky that covers them. Iona is a prime example. Pilgrims are still drawn to it.

Sacred spaces are all around us, if we just have the sensitivity and desire to find them. For me, I have several. One is on the hill in my hometown overlooking my river. God and I met there a number of times as I was growing up. God may not have physically been sitting there, but I felt the presence. I also felt it as I walked along the beach of that river and heard the waves as they lapped against the shore. That was a holy place.

Another sacred space of mine is the National Cathedral in Washington DC. I haven't visited it since it was finally completed, but I remember it as a building that was growing even as I watched. It was a slow process, building something like a Gothic cathedral, even with modern equipment. It isn't something that's put up in a week or a month or even a year. Yet, even with black tarps and scaffolding, the whole place felt like a sacred space with God present there in the chapels, the nave of the church, the choir, the wonderful stained-glass windows, and the solidity of the massive stone columns. There's so much sacred about that place that I still mentally take off my shoes when I take myself through it and remember.

I remember visiting a mosque in Washington DC many years ago. It was a place where women had to cover their hair, and all had to wash their hands and take off their shoes. I didn’t think about it so much then, but I understand now that the rows of shoes outside the doors indicate that the people are entering a sacred space, just as Moses did when he met the burning bush. I didn’t recognize the mosque as a sacred space, full of beautiful calligraphies on walls and tiles, and thick, rich carpets. There was a feeling of something special there, but I just didn’t know what precisely it was at that time.

For some, mountains are sacred spaces, where the immensity of rugged crags pointing toward the blue sky, large boulders, and trees meet like a scenic, invisible cathedral. Some find sacred spaces by watery places like mountain streams or the great wide ocean. I think people find a sense of peace and a sense of wonder in nature. For them, it's a sacred space because one feels different when one is there. There is a consciousness of the grandeur of nature, but also of creation and the Creator. Again, it's something that makes God present, far more intimately than is usual in life.

Sacred spaces don't even have to be big. They can be as simple as a single seat in a church or a small corner of the room set aside for meditation and prayer. Sacred space is somewhere where a person can feel blessed and where awe and mystery come together in a moment in time.

Where are your sacred spaces? What draws you to those places? What feelings, emotions, and insights come to you there?

Look for new sacred spaces. They can be found in lots of unexpected places, like a hospital or hospice room, a desert, or a park. Look around. You just might meet God in a sacred space you didn’t know existed.

God Bless.

Originally published on Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café

Three Little Words

Mark 11:27-33

We see it on the news quite frequently. Someone is walking or driving somewhere and is stopped and asked personal questions, like “Who are you?” "What are you doing here?" It is an uncomfortable situation and one that quite often escalates very quickly, sometimes with the horrible finale being the death of an innocent person because that person did not answer quickly enough, or perhaps did not answer to the question in a way the authority thought that they should. It is a tragic consequence, and there have been so many over the past few years.

The Eucharistic gospel reading for today is a little bit of the same story. Jesus was in Jerusalem with his disciples, and as he walked in the temple, authority figures, namely the chief priests, scribes, and elders came up to him, and questioned him: "By whose authority do you do these things? Who gave you this authority to do them?" Jesus had simply been doing what he was supposed to do, but here was a group of people questioning his right to exercise the gifts God had given him.

Jesus was a fast thinker, and he had played this kind of mental chess game before. His advantage was having nothing to hide. Usually, we think of fast thinkers as people who are getting trapped in situations using words and questions, and they don’t always have the right answer. So, instead of answering truthfully or directly, they sometimes to try to prevaricate, which is like trying to do it two things at once: remembering what was just said and remembering what the truth was.

Jesus used the tactic of answering a question with another question, asking if the baptism of John came from heaven, or was it of human origin? And then he demanded an answer. I can just see the powerful group moving back just a little, huddling together to try to come up with the right answer. If they said that the baptism of John came from heaven, they would be asked why they did not believe him. But if they said the baptism was of human origin, they would be forced to acknowledge that John was a prophet, which is what many people believed him to be. Either way they were stuck, and being stuck in a situation like that is never a good thing. So, they answered in the only way they knew, and probably felt shame and anger as they were forced to say, "We don’t know." That one statement sealed their defeat; they lost face with the crowd, just by saying those four little words.

Sometimes those facing authorities don't really understand how to answer questions flung at them. Everybody wants an answer, they want it now, and they want one that they expect. People who are being questioned are afraid to say that they don't know because that could indicate that they could be guilty of doing or saying something for which they are being questioned.

We are ashamed to say we don't have an answer to a question, whether it is at work, facing authorities in a delicate situation, or even trying to answer the question of a four-year-old who wants to know why there are all those stars in the sky. We have answers that we could use. We could use a scientific reply, such as stars are in the sky because they are individual planets, satellites, and galaxies that have moved from the center of a gigantic explosion billions and billions of years ago, or we could say that God liked pretty lights so God sprinkled some in the sky, so we wouldn't be so afraid at night. The one thing you don't want to say to your kid is "I don't know." It is as if by saying those words we will lose credibility, especially with the people we most want to be truthful with, to be trusted by, and to be accepted as someone with knowledge to share.

It is difficult to say, “I don't know.” Somehow it would make it a little easier if we could say “I don't know, but I'll be glad to go and look it up and report back.” In a stressful situation, though, we don’t often think of doing that, especially if we are stopped by authority figures when we are walking down the street or driving in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and we are stopped by somebody wanting to know who we are and what we are doing there. It is very easy to say “I'm sorry. I got lost and could you please give me directions.” Or we could say “I am taking a walk. I live several blocks over and I'm on my way home.” Of course, we could be there for a nefarious reason, sizing up who is at home and who is not, who leaves expensive items lying around outside like a bicycle or a car. We could be an assassin or a burglar, or we could just be a person taking a walk. The authority doesn't know what we are doing, hence the question. In the light of that, they don't take kindly to perceived prevarications and the situation can escalate from there.

Jesus himself, at one point at least, used pretty much that same phrase when questioned about when God would come to restore Israel. This takes place in Matthew, and in that query, Jesus replies by saying no one knows, even the angels in heaven, or the Son, but only God has the answer. If Jesus could admit something that he didn't know, why should we be so embarrassed about saying it? Granted, the circumstances are a lot different, but still, there are times when it would be so much better to just admit to not knowing then to try to come up with some sort of plausible or implausible answer to a question.

None of us likes to look like we are lacking in total possession of information that others might want. Parents and teachers especially get this, because someone is always asking them questions. Sometimes they are not prepared the question, but they feel it creates problems for the for the person asking if they don't get an answer. It is a tough situation, whether it is life-threatening or not. No one wants to feel like they are uneducated or lacking in knowledge, but if an answer is given that isn't correct and the person who originally asked finds out, wouldn't that be the same as losing credibility by saying, “I don't know?” So, what is a person to do?
 

Some people never reach the point where they're comfortable saying that they don't know something. Others, quite often older folks, reach a point where they feel comfortable saying that they don't know. I find it is really a rather freeing thing to be able to admit to another person that I don't know everything. I can offer perhaps an example of what I have found in a similar situation, but many times I just don't have an answer. What I’ve also learned is that I don’t necessarily always have to have an answer. Sometimes just listening attentively to the questions is enough. That’s when wisdom kicks in.

I’m practicing the “I don’t know” response more often these days. Perhaps there are times when that is the most Jesus-like thing I can do.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, June 2, 2018.

A Fire at a Royal Wedding

It's been a whole week since the royal wedding, and interest in the event still seems to be fairly high. All the secrets are now revealed: the bride's dress was exquisite; her veil was perfect with the dress and a nod to her new role as part of the royal family and the British Empire; the children were adorable. The groom was nervous, but the love he had for her glowed in his face and especially his eyes. She, of course, had eyes for almost only him. The rest of the Royals were like regular Royals. They sat, and they watched. Until the moment.

Our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Michael B. Curry, stood up to give a sermon at the royal wedding. It was a nod to the bride’s American heritage, and the Presiding Bishop  Curry as the closest American equivalent of the Archbishop of Canterbury. The bride and groom picked the reading from the Song of Solomon. It’s not something heard  very often, but it was a beautiful and thoughtful passage, and Curry took full advantage.

As he put his iPad on the lectern, you could see eyes begin shifting around. An electronic device? In St. George's Chapel? What kind of heresy is this? Well, this sermon was on it, and what a sermon it was. After all, this was a 21^st century wedding, with nods to simplicity and a few modern touches without losing the royal flavor.

The sermon was all about love, but also about diversity, politics, human rights, the power of change, the power of devotion, and the power of love. Love encompassed everything, including the bride and groom but also a world celebrating their love by watching and listening and joining in, whether inside the chapel or thousands of miles away by video.

Most American Episcopalians have heard the Bishop speak in a variety of venues. His book, Crazy Christians, is a bestseller. He has been videotaped numerous times, his sermons have been broadcast, and he has been featured in numerous events. We Americans have heard him preach and we know how powerful those sermons can be. So, we settled back and got ready to be blown away.

Curry hit some rather sore points, things like civil rights, slavery, and oppression that are seldom featured in wedding sermons. In fact, they are seldom mentioned even in Sunday sermons. But Curry found that the song of Solomon gave him the freedom to speak of these things that are part of our common and separate histories. A lot of people were uncomfortable, many very much so. The cameras were moving around the congregation, catching the faces of the people listening. Some were horrified. This was not the kind of sermon they were expecting. Usually it was a nice brief, traditional sermon, with all the focus being on the love between the bride and groom. What they got was like an electric shock going through the congregation, or maybe it was a jolt from the Holy Spirit, showing up early for Pentecost and deciding to make this wedding day something completely different and unforgettable.

The Bishop wasn't talking just about the love between two humans. He wasn't talking strictly about monogamy, faithfulness, and constancy within a single-family unit. He was talking about universal love, love that encompassed all people no matter what. Curry said "Imagine this tired old world where love is the way. When love is the way - unselfish, sacrificial, redemptive." * It's a broad statement but right in line with the commandment of Jesus to love one another as he has loved us, and to love one another as we love ourselves. Maybe that's part of the problem; we don't know ourselves well enough to love ourselves. But Jesus does, and Curry made that abundantly clear again. To quote Bishop Curry, "When love is the way, we know that God is the source of us all, and we are brothers and sisters, children of God. My brothers and sisters, that's a new heaven, a new earth, a new world, a new human family." Can't get much clearer than that. I hope a lot of people were really listening.

The thing about Curry’s sermon was that he put in it a passion that goes beyond human love. Curry is a Jesus lover, and he takes that love seriously, seriously enough to be so passionate about it he can't contain all the passion that he has for this love of Jesus. Regardless of where you are from or what kind of worship you were used to, that had to be abundantly clear. Curry is madly, passionately in love with Jesus, and he wants the world to feel that and to experience it for themselves. It is a bond with the Savior that is his strong as love and stronger than death. That mission is what I think a lot of people caught unexpectedly caught and didn't know how to respond but they knew something had changed something new had happened and something had come through like a rushing wind and lit the fires that hopefully will never be extinguished.

People go to church on Sundays, listen to the sermon, and probably have forgotten it by the time they walk out the front door. I don't think a lot of people walked out that way last Saturday in Windsor. I watched an interview with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Presiding Bishop after the wedding, and I was totally astounded and delighted to see the passion that seems to have affected the Archbishop. He seemed more alive and more engaged than I think I've ever seen him before. He had caught fire and showed it. I'm not saying he's going to go preach in Curry's style the next time he stands in the pulpit, but for that moment in time, he understood the passion and understood the way of expressing that passion so that others could catch on. It is not often that people remember the Sunday sermon or the Saturday sermon, but this is a sermon that people are still talking about a week later, and not just among themselves but on major television talk shows.

Curry is a very hot commodity right now. They all want to know what it felt like to preach in front of royalty. And I think the presiding Bishop, modestly, commented that he was preaching for the royal couple including everybody else in the sermon but that the sermon in a way road itself because of the song of Solomon, the text that he was given to work with.

It's time we look a little deeper into the wisdom literature of the Bible, parts of it that we almost never hear, and don't really understand. We look at it in a contemporary way, but we don't always acknowledge the parts that seem a little too intimate, a little too passionate, a little too lacking in mention of God and salvation and what have you. it refers it is love poetry between the lover and the beloved. Harry and Megan were the lover and the beloved, just as God, through and with Jesus, is the lover and all of us are the beloved.

There are so many words I could say about Bishop Curry's sermon. I watched the whole thing and I was totally amazed. I felt myself catching fire. Now that's something. It reminded me of a lot of Baptist sermons that I've heard, but blessed be, I heard not a single word about sin, repentance, and judgment. I heard a lot about love, and it touched me to the depths.

I think I'm going to remember the sermon for quite a while. I've printed out so that I can reread it and really meditate on it. If you haven't had a chance to read it, please do. If you haven't had a chance to see and hear it on video, oh, sisters and brothers, you are missing a treat. Prepare for your heart to be set afire.

God bless.

*Quotes from the sermon of the Most Rev. Michael B. Curry on the occasion of the marriage of Prince Henry of Wales and Ms. Megan Markle, St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, on Saturday, May 19, 2018.

Corrected copy of the reflection originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, May 25, 2018. 

The Girl, the Woman and the Sandwich

Matthew 9:18-26

Everybody seems to have one Bible story that they remember more easily than others or like better for some reason. The gospel for the Daily Office today is one of my particular favorites. There is so much going on, and there are so many aspects to be taken apart and examined as if they were under a microscope. To me it is fascinating as well as touching, because a lot of it seems to be incredible and heart-wrenching 

The story is about a synagogue leader whose young daughter, aged probably around 13, had died and the thing he thought of to do, instead of standing by her bed and mourning, was to run to Jesus and ask for help. He expressed a great faith that Jesus could do what would seem to be almost impossible: raising the dead. The first important thing about this lesson is that it shows the power of faith, and the depth of one petitioner’s trust in Jesus.

Suddenly, however, a second story appears, kind of like the middle of a sandwich. We've gotten the bottom crust and now we get to a different story which is about a woman who had a severe hemorrhage for about 13 years, and who had faith but also a great deal of fear. All she wanted was to touch the hem of his garment and she knew she would be healed. She had tried everything else, but nothing had worked, and so for the last almost 13 years she had remained unclean, undefended, isolated, and probably severely depressed. This was her one chance, and so she took it. Jesus felt the power go out of him when she only had touched a single fringe on his cloak. She didn't touch his hand or his feet, or any clothes that were closely attached to him. It was just a fringe that floated in the breeze. But Jesus knew what she had done because he turned around and told her to take heart. She was made well, partly due to her great faith.

Then we get to the top layer of the sandwich, where Jesus goes to the leader's house which was his original destination. He first had to empty the house of all the mourners and musicians who were making a loud noise and creating a lot of confusion. He told them to go away, and that the girl was not dead but asleep. The mourners found that very amusing; this synagogue leader had brought a comedian to a deathbed. After they were all herded out, Jesus went into the little girl's room, picked up her hand and the girl rose up. The sandwich is nearly complete.

This kind of story within a story is familiarly called the sandwich technique of writing. It can be called a framing narrative.  There are other names for the technique, but sandwich seems to be such a good metaphor for how the stories are put together.

Reading it this time made something light up in my head. I think it shows Jesus multitasking. Undoubtedly, he did it all the time.  He would be walking and teaching at the same time or cooking and conversing with the disciples as they mended nets.  Multitasking wasn’t a word then, but today it is a very common word and action. It is something that everyone experiences now and again, even if not with such great consequences. This is like a slice of our lives today. I had never really considered it as Jesus doing something that we think of as relatively new, or perhaps we just noticed we needed a name for it. I guess it really does help me to understand that Jesus was human and capable of doing a lot of things that we think of as modern.

The sandwich isn't just bread and meat and/or cheese; it is a collection of things like mayonnaise, pickles, Dijon mustard, onions, horseradish, or lettuce and tomato. Without the assorted flavors of the additions, the sandwich seems kind of dull. It is the same thing with the stories in this particular sandwich narrative. The details come with the accent on Jesus's robe with fringe, the woman's length of illness compared to the child's age at the time of her death, the fact that both were female. Also there is the fact that both were the recipients of gifts from God through Jesus even though they were two separate individuals who probably never met, and the only thing they had in common was that they both were in dire straits. We know the child was, because the synagogue leader had said that his daughter had died. That’s drastic.

If you look at the woman with the hemorrhage, she was in dire straits too because of all the years of having wasted her money on doctors trying to cure her of her malady, as well as her lack of male accompaniment as she went out on the street. She was considered every bit as unclean as a leper, if anyone happened to know of her situation. It is probably pretty sure that they did, since gossip seems to float around regardless of the size of the area. If I go to bed at night, draw the curtains, pull down the shades, close the window, get under the covers and sneeze, the first thing tomorrow morning someone will ask me how my cold is. Same with the woman with the hemorrhage, they might not say anything, but their eyes would be staring, and speculation would be running rampant. It would be tremendously uncomfortable for the poor woman. There are so many bits of spice and color, spoken or unspoken, that give texture and flavor to her story.

I like the story because of all the details that are put in that make it seem real. Not exactly like a TV thriller or even a lot of the biblical movies that have come out, but rather as a slice of life, one that we can look at and put into perspective in our own lives. We to have interruptions in our lives, or something must be dealt with immediately just as these two incidents were.

One thing I learned from this is that if someone of Jesus's stature could interrupt one urgent mission to take care of another before going back to the first, then I should be able to handle getting a new piece of paper that needs immediate attention when I'm already working on another that demands equal attention. It is choosing, prioritizing, and multitasking. It is putting things into perspective and giving where gifts are sorely needed. I love this in these two stories.

I guess this next week I am going to have to think about where my priorities are and what I am doing at the cost of putting something else aside either for a few minutes for a few hours. Which is more important? How do I decide? Jesus responded to both requests even though one was unspoken while the other was a direct request. Sometimes it only takes a touch on the fringe to draw attention to the fact that someone needs help. Am I going to be sensitive enough to God's will to feel that and work with it?

God bless.

Image: Club Sandwich from Wikimedia Commons, credited to Matt@PEK, Taipei, Taiwan

Linda Ryan is a co-mentor for two Education for Ministry groups, an avid reader, lover of Baroque and Renaissance music, and semi-retired. She keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter. She is also owned by three cats.

The Leper's Tale

Matthew 7:28 – 8:4

The sun is very bright today. The glare off the hard-packed road makes my eyes burn.  It’s hot in the sun, but others have taken up all the spaces under the few trees that grow here.  I learned early that a single person sitting alone has a better chance of getting something in the begging bowl than those in a group. It’s as if one person is safer than several together, even though we are all in rags and must repeat the same phrase whenever someone comes close to us.

It’s not easy being a leper, being considered unclean by one and all, and forced to live in very small tents away from the town, and to be dependent on the generosity of others who toss bits of bread and sometimes leftovers from their own tables to us, just as if we were dogs. That’s much like what they consider us, except that even the dogs get a friendly pat or encouraging word now and again.

One advantage to being alone rather than in a group:  I get to hear things others don’t. It’s as if by being nearly invisible, passersby don’t think we can overhear what they are talking about, whether it’s daily household talk, things going on in the town, or even news of the outside world that is important to them. Most of the time I hear their voices but don’t register their words unless it is something I haven’t heard before. Having learned to filter what I hear has been one of the very few good things about my condition.

I am considered a leper. My skin has not thickened, and I haven’t lost my facial features or my fingers and toes.  My disfigurement is that my skin has bleached white areas while the rest of me is the normal color. Still, those white spots have cost me nearly everything. I have lost my home, my family, my clan, my way of making my livelihood, my ability to worship in synagogue, everything.  Someone saw one of my patches and informed the priest who examined me and declared me a leper. In that one second, my world changed. Yes, I’d known about the whitish spots, but I hoped to avoid detection since I didn’t have any other signs, like sores and flesh that seemed to rot and thickening skin.

Today began much as usual, me taking my place by the side of the road, bent over as if to emphasize my “uncleanness.”  People came and went, chattering as they passed by. But this morning I heard something different.  There was a crowd of people coming by the town, which was something to be marked as unusual, important, and possibly threatening. Crowds sometimes taunt us and throw stones, so the sound made me instantly alert to any threat.

I kept hearing this name. I had heard it before, but then, it wasn’t exactly an uncommon name. The chatter I had heard before, though, was about someone who was a great teacher and a miraculous healer.  I knew, or used to know, several men named “Jesus” in our village, but these people surely couldn’t mean any of them, could they?  Still, I kept my ears open for more information about this “Jesus” who was coming down the road toward us.

The closer they came, I could feel the excitement building and the noise as well. It was hard to pick up individual conversations, but I did hear things like “He healed that blind man,” or “He taught with such authority like we’ve never heard from the priests we’ve had before.”  This intrigued me, and yet it isolated me even more. I could pray for healing, but out here, alone and friendless, would God really pay attention?  Would this Jesus even notice me? 

Finally, the procession came past where I had been squatting.  I had to try something, anything, that had even the most remote chance of healing me.  I stood up and approached the man who was undoubtedly the Jesus that the crowd had been speaking of.  Being unclean, and remembering the rules that governed lepers, I stayed a short distance away, but I looked him in the eyes and spoke to him. “Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean.”  God only knows where I got the courage to make such a statement, but it felt like it was wrenched out of me, my last hope of healing and curing, my one chance at life. Jesus’ eyes were full of compassion, something I wasn’t used to. Even when I had dared to look people in the eyes in my early days of this existence with my disfigurement, all I saw was fear, disgust, scorn, and dismissal.  These eyes of Jesus were so very different.

When I heard him say, “I do choose. Be made clean!” I wasn’t sure I had heard him right. If he had not stretched out a hand and touched me, I would have doubted that I really heard what I thought I had.  I felt a power surge through me, and a tingling in the places where the white skin was.  I looked at one of the discolored spots and saw that it was gone! My skin was all a same color! I could barely wait to go and bathe in the river, to make sure what I felt was real. But this Jesus had an order for me. “See that you say nothing to anyone, but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer the gift that Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.”  The bath could wait. I ran as fast as I could. 

The result was that after I was examined thoroughly by the priest, I followed the prescribed rites and ritual sacrifices [i] and then finally got to bathe, wash my clothes, and shave all my hair. I stayed outside my tent, and seven days later, went again to the priest to complete the sacrifices and cleansing rituals. Then I could take my place back in the town, and begin again to build my life, this time full of gratitude to God for the man Jesus and the miraculous healing. I kept my silence about Jesus, just as he asked. I wanted people to know what had happened, but I thought that there would come a time when I could speak.

What change did this all make in my life?  I felt greater pity for the lepers who were not healed, and I made sure I had good hunks of bread and fresh fruit to give them instead of leftovers. They mistrusted me at first, but then began to see me as a friend rather than someone trying to impress others with their generosity while giving away castoffs. I continue this service this to this very day, in honor of Jesus’s kindness to me.

It was almost harder to see the life of the leper from outside the group than when I was part of it.  So many just ignored them or crossed the road to be as far away from them as possible. Yet Jesus had actually touched me in my leprous state.  If Jesus could risk becoming unclean as he ministered to me, then how could I not reciprocate?  I gathered food for the lepers from the houses in the town and shared it among the poor souls who had not received the blessing I had. It became my passion and my calling.

I say unto you, if you see someone less fortunate than yourself, do not be afraid to do what you can to help them. It is the work of God that you will be doing, and God will bless you as God has blessed me. 

---

[i]  Leviticus 14, NRSVA

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café

Learning

Tom Clancy, the great novelist, once said, “Life is about learning; when you stop learning, you die.”  Our early lives focus around family, church, friends, and school. School equals a child's work hours; they're working to learn, and that learning will build, year by year, making successful adults who can function well in the world today.

Of course, school can be a bummer; ask just about any child. It would be so much more fun to be out playing with one's friends or curled up in a chair with a favorite book instead of having to fight through spelling and grammar and math. But now and then, there's a child who really gets into this idea of learning. Anyone who's ever been a teacher can remember cases where they have had children like these in their classes, and what a joy they are. The child's eyes glow when something new is presented and they realize it's something of value. They get excited and they want to dig deeper. It doesn't happen all the time, but it’s absolutely beautiful when it does.

Learning is an activity that is not necessarily confined to the walls of an educational institution. I learned things from my parents and my sibling, I learned from my neighbors, most of whom were much older than I, and definitely wiser. I learned from teachers and professors, and I learned from books. Most of all, I learned from just being in the world, watching how things changed, how people work together or have broken ties with each other over differences of opinion. I still learn every day.

There are moments of “AHA!” or new insight, moments when something suddenly becomes clear that perhaps I have never considered or a shift in thinking about a certain topic or a certain characteristic or even a plan of life or vocation. These need to be fostered because it's all about learning, and about what those new thoughts and insights mean to the individual.

An insight that I've gotten just in the last day or so is that all of us need training in various things. Granted, if one gets a new job, there's going to be a training session or class where the person must learn new procedures and new skills. It's a learning curve. For new parents, it's learning by doing, usually with a lot of helpful advice from grandmothers and others, on how to raise this new being who didn't come with an owner's manual or directions on how to grow a perfect, healthy, successful child. It's about experiencing through living, making mistakes, enjoying successes, and most of all knowing what to take from both successes and failures to make us better at what we’re trying to do.

One of the places we definitely need training in is being Christian. It's not enough to be able to quote scripture passages off the top of the head as if one were playing Jeopardy. It's not about just a learning that this means that in the Bible or this verse amplifies that verse in this book over here, it's learning what life was like in the Bible times, and how did the environment in which the early people lived affected what they thought, believed, and did. The church has an enormous history stretching back 2000 years and its roots much earlier. We need to learn about that history so that we understand how we got to be where we are and how are beliefs changed throughout the centuries.

We need to learn to think about where God is in all of creation and where are we? What is God doing or not doing, and what we are doing or not doing? What purpose do we serve in God's kingdom? What is our place in the world as Christians? What was the message God has given us in the Bible, but framed with the culture of the Bible at the time, then applied to the modern day? Many times, we don't learn these things in Sunday school, but rather in living in a world that's multicultural, as well as multi-faith.  We need to know these things and not just accept that Church A has a very welcoming reputation whereas Church B is more closed and exclusive. The answers all come down to training, and training is just another word for learning. It's something I've come to believe is very important for all, whether infants, children, adults or even elders. None of us knows it all, but we can sure learn a lot more than very possibly what we've been taught before.

I applaud churches that don't just have Bible studies but have studies of the Bible and its world, a world very different from ours and one which, once we understand the culture that produced the Bible, we understand better what it means. Does the Shepherd lead the sheep, or does he follow the sheep and whack them with a crook? That's only one question, but it's a place to start thinking.

I hope I keep learning as long as I live, because I am insatiably curious about so many things. I'm curious about my life as a Christian, and how I reflect that Christian belief in my everyday activities and contacts. I know a lot more than I did, and I continue to learn, not just facts and dates and people but about the intangibles, the things that form opinions, or things that make me go "Aha!"

Each of us needs to continue to learn not just so that we can repeat verbatim a passage or verse but that we understand what that first meant to the first people who heard it and to those who came after them. We can't isolate from the origins of that sacred book. We can't isolate from the culture in which Jesus grew and taught and was executed. We can’t understand the miracle of the resurrection unless we understand what went before. It all comes down to training and learning. We need to be trained to see beyond the modern-day interpretations that impose 21st century culture and understandings on first-century or earlier writings and stories. We need to be more educated Christians, as well as more dedicated.

 Never stop learning. It's worth the investment.

 God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, May 5, 2018.,

Words: Useful and Dangerous

Words are fascinating things. I remember Mama reading to me when I was little and couldn't read for myself. The stories were great, with the sound of her voice changing the black marks on the page to adventures and heroes. I learned to read in the first grade, or at least started to, but I really wasn't a fan of reading for myself. That changed in third grade when I had a series of illnesses that kept me at home and Mama didn't have time to stop and read every time I wanted to hear something. So, I learned the value of books and words. I became a voracious reader, something that's stuck to me throughout all the intervening decades.

I like to play with words, making them flow together to convey what I want to say in the way I’d like to say it. Sometimes the tone is a little flat, but that's because I have the wrong word. I used to be left to my own devices to come up with the precise word I wanted, but, thanks be to God, the Internet has saved me a lot of trouble on that one.

I have a word game on my cell phone. I’m given six letters, and a design of empty boxes like a crossword puzzle with no numbers. The idea is to connect three or more letters from those given so that they make an actual word and fill in some of the squares. Sometimes there's a bonus word that's a little harder but uses the same letters. I frequently bang my head against the wall, but I love that stupid game. It's a challenge, especially when I can't see the word pop out at me like most of them do. Sometimes that one word just won't come, so I resort to using the guessing game until suddenly, a word shows up that's correct. What's funny is that sometimes my fingers start trying to start tracing a word that I recognized before I get to the end of it. My brain won't find the words but somewhere in my mind it's there waiting for me to give it a clue.

Words often have connections. This afternoon as I was doing a puzzle one of the words that I found was “death.” It reminded me of the transience of life and how none of us can really escape it. It happens when it happens, whether natural, taken at the hands of others, or lost to disease. Birth comes, life continues, and death happens.

Then I ran into a fourth puzzle and this one, took me aback a little because it had two words related to each other — heaven and haven. It stopped me for a minute because I didn't come up with an immediate association like I had with the other words but then, heaven is a difficult concept for many of us, as much as we are assured in Scripture and in church that after we leave this earth in death we will rise again to be with God.

People have all kinds of ideas about what heaven is and what it's like, everything from angels standing around the throne singing praises to God eternally, nonstop, without end. If I were there, I'd hope they would change the tune every now and then, doing something from Bach, and then maybe from Lauritsen, then maybe a Gregorian chant segueing into Monteverdi. I'll even take a chorus or two of “Just as I Am,” so long as it doesn't last too long or happen too often.

For others heaven is a place where everyone they love will be there waiting for them, and they’ll spend a considerable amount of time greeting people that they have not seen for years and enjoying being with them once again. Some believe that if their dog

or cat, bird, or rabbit who preceded them in death are there waiting, they don't want to go. Heaven to them would be heaven unless that beloved for a person wasn't there with them

So, what's heaven like? I haven't a clue. I can think hopeful thoughts, I can read lots of books with various interpretations, I can discuss it with friends, but all in all, I have no clue. I don't know, and I won't know until the moment comes when I die. Maybe I will find the Jewish afterlife. It’s a place of eternal sleep were God watches over them. No harps, no halos or wings, just a place of eternal sleep, but a sleep that is peaceful for the righteous.

I will probably keep playing my word games, simply because I enjoy them, but mostly to help me keep my mind active and challenged. It bothers me when I can't remember a word (aphasia), and I have to grope around in the recesses of my cortex to try and dig out that word that's on the tip of my tongue, but that very same tongue can't access. Still, words are my way of conveying what I think, what I feel, what I learn, what I observe, what I hear, and the difference it makes to me.

Words are important, too important to be used like bludgeons or sharp knives. Words are too important to waste on gossip and ridicule and bullying. What if we had a world where words were used to build up rather than tear down? I wonder — what would that world be like? What words could we use to build the bridge amongst ourselves as individuals, groups, nations, and universally? If birth comes, life continues, and death happens, what word would bring heaven?

I wish I had all the answers. In a way, I envy those who have gone before me because now, very probably, they have all the answers; they can stop wondering, but they can't tell me no matter how much I ask. I guess one word I need to get used to more than anything else is “ambiguity.” I need to learn to completely trust in ambiguity, trust that I don't need to know all the answers, they will come soon enough. I don't need to understand how the Trinity works, what heaven is like, or whether or not the Cubs will win again this year. Wait, maybe I'll find that out sooner rather than later. But still, I will have words to ask questions, to ponder, to wonder, and to try and pass on what I have learned to others, just as those who have gone before me have taught me.

Thank God for words. And thank God for words that let me express love, especially for those who have gone before and whom I devoutly pray will be waiting for me when my turn comes. They have the answers like the back of the textbook used to!

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 28, 2018.

Ann's Gifts

Along with Education for Ministry (EfM), Episcopal Café, and most of the Episcopal Church as a whole, I am mourning the loss of a mentor, co-mentor, editor, friend, and incredible resource and example, namely Ann Fontaine. So many words have been written about her since her passing this past week that anything I say might seem to be just more of the same. Still, in talking to a friend recently, I realized something about Ann and her passing that gave me one of those insights that I want to hold onto and think about for a while. It was sort of the essence of Ann, especially in her last months, that has been a real learning experience for me, as well as a prime example of grace under pressure. It was also an exercise in grace-full living in her own inimitable style that has touched so many over the years.

I co-mentored with Ann for nearly 10 years and was a member of one of her online groups for two years before that. I never met Ann in person, yet I felt I knew her well enough to trust her implicitly, to learn from her, and to see her through the eyes of so many people.

During a phone conversation with a former group member a day or so ago, we were reminiscing about being in class together and things that we had learned from Ann. I remarked that my current groups have been missing Ann since she stepped down from active mentoring not very long ago. I think we all have been mourning as we read her Facebook posts and then the gentle but honest updates from her daughter Kristen, truly her mother’s daughter in word and action. We followed Ann’s journey, a journey she allowed us to share with her. It was a gift that I, for one, have only just begun to really understand and really appreciate. It was like a final gift that she gave to me and, I’m sure, many others.

The journey of her disease was one that she shared with us both in groups, on Facebook, and in real life. She told us of her doctor visits, of decreasing abilities to walk and to do things that she enjoyed doing, and even just to breathe. In our online groups we heard the sound of the oxygen concentrator that was helping her. We had heard that sound for some time and just let it go unmentioned.  it was something we knew Ann depended on, and that was enough for us. One night something was said about it, and several people said, to the effect of, “Oh yeah, we heard that and just ignored it.” I think that surprised her because she hadn’t realized that we could hear it and we felt it was a sort of sharing. Needless to say, we ignored it again and concentrated on what she had to say about whatever topic we were discussing.

Her lungs might have been weakening, but her mind and heart were as strong as ever. A real clue to her decline was when she stopped commenting “Cubs Win!” I hope she’s got eternal seats for all their games now, and I’m glad she got to see them win the World Series. It was a huge moment for her.

I think, for me, the last gift was her ability to learn to live with something that doesn't have a good ending. Granted, her death came in her sleep, something most of us wish for, and some of us will maybe never get to experience ourselves. But with her usual grace and outright forthcoming, we followed her and saw her ability to occasionally look past the disease to things that gave her joy, things like watching the birds, enjoying a short visit from a friend, notes and emails from people all over the church and probably the world that she had met at various points in her life. Having her beloved husband and daughter at her side, and her family in almost continual contact gave her strength and support. What more could any of us ask for the joy, even when facing the ultimate adversary, death.

All of us need to learn to live with something. It may not be life-threatening, but it might be life-changing in some way, or it might just be a speed bump in the road of life. Learning to live with it with grace, which truly was the gift of God that Ann possessed in abundance, is for all of us. We can all count on this grace if we allow it to work through us. Ann certainly showed us that grace. No doubt she had days where she wanted to rage or express anger at the increasing limitations and especially the lost time she would have with her family, especially the grands. But when push came to shove, she straightened her shoulders, held her head up, and moved on.

I thank God for Ann and her journey. It hasn't been easy, not for anyone who knew and loved her. I want to remember her grace in a dark time for her and for us. I want to remember to enjoy the little things, even the mockingbird mother who keeps chasing my outdoor cats off the patio. That’s trivial, and certainly the cats don't enjoy it, but in a way, it reminds me of Ann. She was never one to let someone get in the way of what she felt was right or just, even if the pecks of the beak were a little too close for comfort many times. That was her gift, and I will miss it greatly. One of our favorite lines in our groups now is to mention Ann every time we forget to use the “I” word. She was not shy about calling us on using “we” or “us” when we needed to use “I” to take responsibility for our own beliefs, thoughts, and feelings.

Oh, yes, she wasn’t shy about correcting people who misspelled her name as “Anne.”  She was ANN, and that was that. Those who learned the hard way never made the mistake again.

Rest in peace and rise in glory, Ann. You will be missed, and it wouldn’t surprise me to see you mentioned in commemoration by the whole church in times to come. It will be a mark of something special for anyone who could say "I knew and Fontaine," and it will be a moment of joy for all of us when we see you in glory for ourselves.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 21, 2018, under the title "Continuing to Remember Ann+."

D.I.Y. T.R.

I speak often of a group that I belong to and have the honor of mentoring in, and that is Education for Ministry (EfM). For those unfamiliar with the title, it's an educational formation program for laypeople, but is open to clergy who, it may be used as part of a diaconal process or who are already ordained. Most often studied by those who want to know more about the church, the Bible, and most importantly, themselves. It's not a self-help group to resolve problems. It is a four-year program, one year each for Old Testament, New Testament, church history, and theology. By the end of the four years people have a greater understanding of how all those things work together and how they can use what they've learned not only in their church affiliations and lives, but in their personal and professional lives.

One of the basic things that EFMstresses is a concept called theological reflection. It's a way of using tools to examine a potential problem, something that a person would want to think more deeply about, possibly a different way of looking at a familiar Scripture, or as a way of recognizing a position or an action that a person can have or take on a given topic. TR's, theological reflections, come in a lot of forms, but basically, they start at a point, identifying something the person wants to consider and to examine in an organized manner. The goal is to find either an answer or a direction pointing in a direction, often one or the other being something that hadn’t been considered before. This is my personal description of Do-It-Yourself Theological Reflection (DIY TR).

One way of beginning to think about something, once someone has decided they need to think about this a bit more, is to just write down what it is they want to think about. Sometimes it's clear, and sometimes it requires perhaps a little refining. A way EfM does this is to encourage people to create or use a metaphor to visualize the situation they want to work on, whether with others or just with themselves. It doesn't have to be a fancy metaphor. I have used a picture of a man riding a quad runner over a jump when the back wheels come off. To me, that represents a part of my life that is out of control and that I need to deal with. It can be something funny, like the cute YouTube about cat herding, one of my personal favorites, for times when things are going every which way instead of in a general direction. It often helps to find metaphors to use, for instance, when contemplating a piece of Scripture.

We then go into the four areas that we want to examine in relation to our discussion or conversation. Culture, contemporary culture that is, is a way of examining what the world around me thinks about the subject that I am contemplating. For instance, how does culture perceive the problem of safety in schools for children and young people? How does culture reflect the ethics of life that we see in our contemporary world? How do books and magazines represent our culture and how does that affect us? It can also be expanded to include different types of cultures, such as those bound together by country of origin, religion, or perhaps even socioeconomic, racial, or almost any group where community is a group of people who are joined together, whether loosely or tightly, by common goals, interests, and sense of comradery. It's also possible to examine this one area in terms of what socio-cultural life was like in Biblical times if one were considering a TR  based on a passage or piece of Scripture. It may require some research, but research is learning, and learning is a good thing. That's one reason we use theological reflections.

A second area of interest in and examination is the tradition. Generally, we think of it as the Christian tradition, incorporating the Bible, the church traditions of feasts, seasons, and liturgies, the lives of saints, hymns, and religious reading that we have done. One question I can ask is where in Scripture have I found a similar situation to the one that I'm contemplating. Sometimes I have to Google it, other times it springs to mind. There is also the question of where is God in the situation? That is one of the core questions to be brought out during a theological reflection.

There is a third area of reflection, the position statement, which is an "I" statement of what I believe, I think, I feel, and the like. It's the trench I'm willing to die and, more or less, the line in the sand that I don't want to cross. It's how I perceive the situation in relationship to myself and my world around me. It's usually one of the most important parts of the TR because it requires us to articulate very clearly where we stand on the issue under reflection and why. Did we learn it from our parents? Is it the result of study and experience? Does it come from the culture that surrounded us? it could be any one of several ways.

The fourth area is action: What are we going to do about this? This reveals impact on our ministries both in the church and in the world. People don't always realize that the work outside the church is every bit as important as the work inside and is most often a ministry itself. Stay-at-home mother? Someone who helps with the food banks and the homeless shelters? A cheerful receptionist at a busy office? An orderly in hospital? Dishwasher in a restaurant? All have ministries, even if they don’t think of them that way. Even the people who pick up the garbage can be ministers because they are serving a community in a job most of us wouldn't want but which is necessary and can be done cheerfully and thoroughly. So, when we think about our action, we think less about the salary we make and perhaps more about the pleasure and satisfaction we take in doing our job well. What we do is see is God in the world around us, and we become the hands of God to others, even if we never mention religion. It's vital to find God working there with us.

So, what's a TR and how do you know you’ve got one? You have a TR when you think about things in a somewhat structured manner. It takes areas of your life and places the question in the center and then seeing the impact or the change of direction as one progresses through the four areas of interest. How do you know you've got one? That's easy. You find a way for God to work through you, and you understand what you are meant to do to make the kingdom of God appear here on earth. When you figure out the answer to the question, or even a direction towards the answer, then you have probably done so in some sort of reflective way. Remembering to put God into the picture and adding tradition plus culture, position, and action can bring you to a greater understanding of the Bible, the church, the community, the world, and yourself and how all of it works together for the good of all.  Try it; it’s a very spiritual experience.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 14, 2018.

Community

It seems that our language changes rather rapidly and frequently. There are words we use commonly today that in my childhood 50-60 years ago were never really heard. I'm talking about words like ecology, internet, media, and community. Today, the word community comes more to the forefront of my mind than the others, although there is a relationship between community and media, community and location, community and association, and so on.

I think about our culture. Where I live, we have a plethora of gated communities, where more affluent people live in an atmosphere that seems to be a bit more exclusive and a bit safer, as it were. We have community churches, community hospitals, community banks, or even community parks, kindergartens, community HOAs and clubs.

Culture uses the word community as a great thing, that is, if the insiders get to define what “community” is. I realize that not everyone would agree with me, but I see community as a group of people who are interested in being connected to neighbors, coworkers, fellow church members, people in the neighborhood, and even people we encounter in the neighborhood like shopkeepers, barbers, and service workers. Granted, I am not sure I would consider a garbage collector to be part of my community, but he, or possibly she, really is, as they provide a service that benefits the community I live in. Once I think about it, community is more than just people I know and/or associate with.

There is a negative side of community that we see on almost every newscast, and that is the community of violence, gangs, bullying, drug abuse, and slavery (usually sexual). These communities are exclusive but want to make sure everybody else understands their superiority. It’s a difficult situation, and it isn’t limited to the lower income areas of a city or suburb. It exists on street corners and school grounds, and among both rich and poor, just not in the same groups. Still, it’s a kind of community we need to be conscious of, and remember that these too are children of God, even if they don’t acknowledge it themselves (and often we don’t acknowledge it either!)

Thinking of tradition, I wonder how the Israelites would have seen community. I wonder, would there have been a community each of potters, brick makers, weavers, farmers, or the like? Living in a community of people with similar backgrounds or jobs would be beneficial, and there would be a sense of commonality and camaraderie based on a similar occupation. On the journey from Egypt, would each of these individual communities have stayed with their group as the entire Israelite nation left Egypt for an epic journey to which, for them, was God knows where? The priestly class was more prominent, and so I'm pretty sure they would have stuck together, usually around Moses and Aaron, but as for the common people? Who knows.

In the New Testament, Jesus set up a community of disciples, a community which included people who were not simply students, but were supporters, and people needing help that Jesus could provide. After healing, most went back to their original communities and were restored to full membership in those communities because their disability, their disease, or their afflictions, had been relieved and they could now assume a viable and active presence in community life. There were Gentiles who formed their own communities in the land of Israel, and the Romans certainly held themselves aloof from the conquered people, excepting the highest level of Jewish hierarchy.

When Paul and Peter went out into the lands of the Gentiles to preach and convert, Paul dove in, having an understanding the Greek culture and being able to teach in such a way that Greeks could learn from them about Judaism, Jesus, and the Jesus movement. Peter was still somewhat of an impetuous figure. So long as none of his contemporaries from Jerusalem were around, Peter accepted the Gentiles and interacted with them, particularly at meals; but as soon as someone from Jerusalem showed up, suddenly eating with the Gentiles was forbidden, and disapproval of even the more social of contact came into play. How quickly impressions of community can change.

In the present, we who call ourselves Christians attempt to practice our form of community in various ways. Some churches and denominations are very open, welcoming, and inclusive to those who are in some way different, while others want to maintain their separatism as a way of proving that they are following Christ. It causes a lot of misunderstanding, distrust, dislike, and even verbal bombs such as heretic, spawn of Satan, unchristian, or unbeliever.

Some communities have begun and continue to take action, looking to and studying continuing icons such as Martin Luther King, Gandhi, César Chavez, and many others, all the way back to Jesus himself. For instance, look at the people who, whether Native American or not, joined those who protested the pipeline across Native American land and desecration of Native American holy places. Look at the children who marched just a couple of weeks ago for gun control so that they might have an opportunity to go to school without worrying about whether someone was going to enter their school and take their lives. What about the African-Americans who joined Martin Luther King and others on their marches for equal rights, just like the women who, early in the last century, did their own protest marches to call attention to the fact that they could not vote. Each one of those communities took it upon themselves to bring attention to things that were wrong, things that went against the very idea of community. There are many other illustrations, too many to name here, but if I think about it, I'm sure anyone could come up with a lot more.

Community demands action. Like a marriage, it can't be static. There are always ups and downs, and those ups and downs that must be worked out and compromise arrived at to strengthen the bond and to work communally for better life. In Education for Ministry (EfM), we are reading a book by Verna Dozier in which she puts a perspective on community that would do for most of us to take to heart and really contemplate.

The very essence of God's gift is community — a people called out to witness to the dream of God. The rejection of community is individualism, deified in the American ethos as "rugged individualism.” *

Community, the dream of God, was the reason God created Adam and Eve, the original community that God made to provide help and support. I think the quote is one that I really need to think about even as I continue through Dozier's book and beyond. I wonder, does that quote say anything to one who is seeking to understand community?

  

Something to think about this week.

I also wonder—if Heaven has gates, does that make it a gated community?

God bless.

* Dozier, Verna, A Dream of God. New York: Seabury Press, 2006. Digital.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, April 7, 2018.