Perpetua and Felicitas, Carthaginian Martyrs

Lent seems to be a perfect time for stories about the early Christian martyrs, like Perpetua, Felicitas, and the other martyrs of Carthage, who died in 202 or 203 CE.  It was a rough time for the members of the early church, what with the Caesars still being very anti-Christian, probably a fear left over from Caesar Augustus and his immediate successors.

Perpetua was a well-brought-up woman, a very young widow with a small child, and a catechumen (an unbaptized convert) in the local church. In comparison, Felicitas was a pregnant slave, soon to give birth, who was also probably a catechumen. With them were three men, Saturus, Secundus, and the slave Revocatus. We know much of their story from the writings of an anonymous writer who recorded their last days.  Extracts of this historical episode can be found at Perpetua and Felicity by James Kiefer. It’s quite interesting, yet sad, but also uplifting.

Several things struck me in this recounting. One was that Perpetua’s father came to beg her to renounce her faith for the sake of her father, her family, and her infant son. He implored her to think of what her profession of faith and public execution would do to endanger her family, although he alone would be saddened by her death. He went away sorrowfully because Perpetua chose Jesus over her family and kinfolk.

These days, sometimes young people choose a path that leads to their death, although not for the same reasons. There are many cults and sects which seem to offer unlimited peace, joy, and salvation, but which, in reality, lead their followers into drugs, false beliefs, isolation, and, sometimes, even death. That would possibly be something like the followers of Jesus in the early church, tempted by a messiah who promised heaven and rewards for living righteous lives. I wonder, would it be so easy to choose Jesus if we lived in Perpetua’s time?  What about our own?

Another thing I found interesting in this tale was that Perpetua had visions of heaven, of fighting against a gladiator who represented the devil, whom she defeated. She also had a vision of her young brother, who had died at age eight of cancer. She was reassured to see him well, as he would be in heaven.

The third thing that resonated with me was the sight in my mind of Perpetua and her group standing in the Coliseum, awaiting the deaths that were coming. They had refused the costumes the guards brought them to wear, and Perpetua told the guard that since she was being put to death for not worshiping the Roman gods, she was earning the right to die in her own clothes. That sounded a bit cheeky but was probably one of the bravest things she could have said to her captors.

Saturus was the first to die by being mauled by a leopard. The bear would not leave his cage and the wild boar killed his keeper instead. The two other men were saved, for the moment.

Perpetua and Felicity were both wounded, but Perpetua used her torn clothing to cover herself and then arranged her hair as if she were a fine lady preparing for dinner. Evidently, she felt that if she had to be executed, she would go to her death as a brave and properly clad martyr. The first four were beheaded, dying quietly and without defending themselves. Perpetua’s executioner, however, only got the job half done with his first stroke, so Perpetua guided his hand to her throat to finish the job.

When I read stories like this one, I have to try not to laugh at those who claim martyrdom today when their ideas are not accepted, they feel they are being wronged over small things, or people disagree with them. Our Christian calendar is so full of real martyrs, those who faced death because they followed Jesus and didn’t back down when the time for execution came. To me, it’s complaining of the pain of a splinter versus being shot or hacked with machetes for a much greater cause.  I think of the march to Birmingham, the martyred children of Japan, Oscar Romero, the Ugandan martyrs, and others who are so much better examples of following their faith to the very end. It’s still going on today, and we have been too silent on other massacres and martyrdoms around the world in the past. When will it end? Is the lesson of Perpetua and her companions just a nice story?

Lent seems to be calling for me to think about these things, not to make me feel bad, but to remind me that Jesus himself was martyred because of fear and arrogance among both the Romans and some of the Jews. He was crucified for our transgressions, as we are told, and so what are we willing to do in return? As surely as Jesus saved us, aren’t we called to save others? Aren’t we called to take care of the poor, the sick, children, the elderly, the imprisoned, and those who need our help to save them from persecution, bullying, and false imprisonment?

I think this week I will be thinking more on Perpetua and Felicity. They were strong women in a time when women were perceived as weak. They had the strength and faith to stand up for their beliefs, bravely and faithfully. I bet I can find some of those women around today. I think I’ll look for them this week as well. I can never have too many positive role models.

God bless.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 7, 2020.

Starting, Stopping, and Finishing

I am sitting in my comfortable rocker, thinking of all the things that need to be done, like cleaning the cat box, putting away the clean dishes, working on one or the other of the knitting projects I have going. Both of them I started with such anticipation, but the closer I get to the end, the harder it is for me to finish it. That goes with a lot of things, not just craft projects or household chores. This week I’ve been trying to work on mowing my lawn, and before I could finish, the motor died. Since it several weeks before I can even think about taking it somewhere to have it looked at, I realized that I really wasn’t that anxious to get it fixed. The weeds were nearly knee high, so I got out the weed whacker and started trimming around the trees, the trailer skirting, rocks, and various other things that I run into with the mower. I couldn’t finish the yard with the trimmer; it was just too hard to do.

As I went to go into the house, I noticed that there were grass clippings all over the patio, but I simply didn’t have the energy to finish cleaning up.  Today it took a lot of my energy to talk myself into going out and completing the sweep up, and so now I sit and think about what I need to work on next.

Sometimes I get a real flash of inspiration as I think about what to write about and reflect on for these pieces, these meditations. Today it flashed in my mind that I need to think about starting and finishing, not starting, then quitting in the middle.


It’s easy to leave work unfinished, thinking, “Finish it now” or “It will be there tomorrow.” If I have six more inches of knitting to finish a scarf, that’s an “It will be there tomorrow” thing. Cleaning the cat box, going to get groceries, or paying the bills are “Finish it now” things. It’s a matter of pushing a bit more to complete a task.

We’ve gone through Christmas and Epiphany, and now we are in Lent, the time of penitence, reflection, and taking steps to increase our spirituality as well as grow in Christian maturity. We usually have a plan for Lent, like we will read so much of the Bible every single day, we will pray the daily office, we will give up chocolate or some other little vice for the duration of the season, and we start with great diligence and enthusiasm. It doesn’t always work. Sometime after the first couple weeks or so, we start finding reasons why we can’t read that chapter or that part of the Bible, we can’t find the time to pray the daily office as we should, we try to make time for spiritual practices, but the kids have to be taken to school, there’s a meeting at 10:30 and it’s 9 o’clock now, or any one of 100 excuses (which we also call reasons) for why we can’t do what we said we were going to do. I know I say okay, it’s going to be this way today, but tomorrow I’ll get back into my practices, but tomorrow I’ll probably find another reason (excuse) for not doing it. I began with good intentions, but somehow it doesn’t always translate into staying motivated until I reach the end on Easter Eve.


I wonder, did Jesus ever want to say, “I don’t feel like doing this today, I’ll do it tomorrow?” It doesn’t seem that way, but to be fully human, wouldn’t he have had to be tempted in that way, even though it wasn’t as drastic as being on a high mountain and being shown the kingdoms of the world, or on top of the temple and being told to jump. Jesus had to endure small temptations, else how could he understand us, the human beings with whom he lived?


We have big lures, some of which will land us in jail, while others will simply make us feel inadequate because we didn’t have the strength to do what we should or not do what we shouldn't. Still, as they say in Twelve-Step, “One day at a time.” Sometimes one day is too long;  it has to be more like one hour, or even one minute at a time, that we have to get through in order to reach the goal.


Starting went may be easy, but like a pilgrimage, or even everyday journey, there are rough spots that have to be traversed, there are things that have to be done, whether or not we want to do them. Sometimes we have to struggle like addicts and alcoholics, mothers of straw of small children, and laborers who spend eight hours a day shifting heavy burdens from place to place. We can’t give up halfway through; we have to finish at the end of the day.


Lent is an opportunity for us to learn to pace ourselves, even if we fall every single day. It is a time of falling, picking ourselves up, and taking another step forward rather than going ten steps backward. It’s a time period in which we work to get to the end, and hopefully, when we do reach the end, we feel we have accomplished something, we have grown in some way, we have come to new understandings of things that were cloudy to us before.

We have started Lent, and now we must go through it all so we can learn what the season has to teach us this year. It will be different from what we learned last year, and probably different again from what we will learn next year, but, by going through the forth days, one step at a time, we will learn, even if it’s just a small insight. It’s something we did not have before, but yet now we have something to look at and think about, and practice.


So, have a blessed Lent. I know I will be busy trying to follow the exercises I have set for myself, pushing through what I don’t want to do to finish whatever task it is. Okay, I’m getting out of my chair now. God, help me.



Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 29, 2020.

Lazarus and Resurrection

John 11:1-16



Jesus had been preaching and teaching to a crowd who got angry enough at his words that they were ready to stone him. He tried to explain to them what he was doing, but they only got madder and more prepared to do him harm. Like at least one other time in his career, people who disagreed with him tried to kill him, but somehow Jesus miraculously walked through the crowd, escaping without harm. Since it seemed the better part of safety to get out of Dodge, as we might call it, he and the disciples got in a boat and made for the other side of the Jordan River, landing at the place where John the Baptizer had done his ministry.  There he stayed and began teaching to a new group of listeners.


Then Jesus received a message from Mary and Martha in Bethany, near Jerusalem, asking him to come quickly as their brother and Jesus’ good friend Lazarus was very ill. The disciples were quite puzzled when Jesus remained where he was for two full days before leaving for Bethany.  In response to their questions, Jesus reported that Lazarus was only sleeping. They must have wondered why Jesus got such an urgent message if it were only a case of sleeping.


In the Gospel of John, the writer often made things a bit more abstract or mysterious than the simple straightforwardness of the other three. His use of “sleeping” to the disciples meant that Lazarus was in the sleep of death and that Jesus’ delay in going to his friend was to teach them a lesson about belief. Jesus knew that the time was coming when they would have to remember the experience of Lazarus.


I wonder if Jesus was using Lazarus as a way to prepare his followers for his own upcoming death. In Judaism, there is the belief that the soul will rise when the Messiah comes to rebuild the Temple. Isaiah and Daniel referred to the resurrection of the soul.  In the Jewish prayer book, much like our Daily Office, God’s mercy to those who are fallen, ill, bound, and dead, are part of the morning prayers.

You sustain the living with loving-kindness. You revive the dead with great compassion. You support the fallen & heal the ill. And You release those bound. And You fulfill Your faithfulness to those who sleep in the ground. Who is like You, Master of [all] powers, King, Who causes death & gives life & causes salvation to sprout. & You are trustworthy to revive the dead. Blessed are You L·rd, Who revives the dead.   - Amida of Shah'rit / Morning Prayer of Regular Weekday *

That’s a part of a prayer I could easily make a part of my prayer life. It also makes me think a bit more about resurrection and what it means to Christians of all stripes, as well as the afterlife from other religions and sects.  I know that in some denominations, the resurrection of the dead is only guaranteed to baptized members. Others believe that the resurrection of the body means that only complete corpses (no cremains, no missing parts) will be acceptable. There are times when I have questioned (and been questioned) whether one could lose their salvation and their chance at resurrection and ascension to Heaven to be with God because of misdeeds, unforgiven sins, or some ritual, rite, or promise not done correctly or even not at all.


Still, there is Easter and the resurrection of Jesus. I can’t think that it was a one-time event, given the teachings of Jesus himself and also the raising of Lazarus, an ordinary man. I can’t believe in Hell, as I have been taught that it is the place for unsaved souls, evildoers, and the like would be sent for eternity. That doesn’t square with what I know of a loving God who loves all, even when they cause God pain because of their actions.


The delay in reaching Lazarus was a foreshadowing of the three days of Jesus’ own internment, symbolic in number and as mysterious as a walking corpse who turned out to be alive.

I wonder, did Lazarus think about his first meal, once his mind had realized that he was no longer ill, was walking from the dark tomb into the light, and had his friend Jesus to thank for all of it. It would certainly be a celebratory meal, the best that Mary and Martha could provide on such a day. Instead of a Last Supper, it would be a First Supper, maybe not as sacramental, but just as much a celebratory event.


I don’t think I’m finished ruminating about what John is trying to tell me in this passage. I’ve got the gist, but I think there’s more to be dug out of it. I also believe that with every day that passes, I am one day closer to finding out if I’m right about Heaven, Hell, resurrection, and the infinite mercy of God. One day, I’m confident I will know that mercy in its fullness. In fact, I’m rather looking forward to it. I’ve got a lot of questions I have wanted to ask

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 22, 2020

Dinner in the Desert

Mark 8:1-10

I was just watching a program on the city of Petra, Jordan,* an ancient town in a place where there was no apparent water, except for occasional catastrophic flash floods. Somehow the people who carved it out of the native stone were not only excellent craftsmen but also great engineers. Excavations have revealed watercourses and dams that helped to both fill watercourses and aqueducts but also provide for a way of lessening the effects of flash flooding. Petra became a center for trading and respite for caravans passing through with their goods and purchasing provisions. They were known as a trading center for frankincense and myrrh

Petra was a long way from just about anywhere, hence its importance as a trading site and place of refreshment from the sun and desert heat. Traders had to carefully calculate what provisions and how many of each would be needed to get the caravan to the next oasis or trading center.

I was surprised to learn, many years ago, that not all deserts are vast sand dunes. Around Petra, as well as in Arizona, the Sahara, and other places of little moisture, the desert can also be a place with sparse vegetation, mountains, and hard-packed soil that would require a pickaxe to get through it.  I used to live in the high desert of Oregon (yes, Oregon has a desert) where the desert bordered on the Columbia River.  It might have been this kind of desert in which Jesus performed the miracle we know as the “Feeding of the Four Thousand.”

What would make people follow an itinerant preacher into such a countryside with no café, Starbucks, Fish’n’chips, or Subway anywhere close by?  Towns would often have stalls in the marketplace where prepared food was as well as items that could be carried along for cooking on the road, but evidently, there was no town close to where they all found themselves. If they had brought food with them, it would have been eaten by the third day, and just like an army, a group of followers marched until the food ran out. Evidently, Jesus, in the minds of the people, was someone worth following.

Jesus was aware that the people were hungry, most of them having eaten the last of the supplies they had brought with them.  The disciples were all in favor of sending them home, but Jesus reiterated that they were a long way from home and probably would not make it back without assistance. Then the disciples asked the question I’ve been pondering, “How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?” It certainly would have been impossible for people to bake bread made of sand and salt water, and even stone soup would not have nourished them enough to give them the strength to journey very far. 

So Jesus asked the disciples how much food they had with them. I don’t think they were particularly happy about being asked about stuff they had brought with them for their own meals but answered that they had among them seven loaves of bread and a few fish. Jesus took the food, blessed it, and then began passing it around to the crowd of about 4,000 people.  Everyone ate, and at the end of the meal, the scraps gathered up came out to seven baskets of leftovers. 

Seven is considered a most favored number in Judaism, a symbol for holiness and sanctity. Seven reminds us of the days of Creation, days in a week with the seventh day being the Sabbath, the number of days in many Jewish festivals, and all things in association with God, it isn’t surprising that Jesus would bless seven loaves and that the gathered-up bits and pieces would equal seven baskets.

Did the people expect a miracle? I imagine they were as surprised as anyone could be when confronted with a sudden fulfilling of a need at a time when it would be most unexpected. It would be like suddenly encountering an oasis after a long, tiring trek through sand and caliche. Were they grateful for what they received? It would be hard not to be, given the circumstances. What about the disciples?  Shouldn’t they have expected something like this after having seen Jesus do unexpected things? Still, despite any reluctance to share with others, their bellies were as full as anyone's, and if they were still hungry, bite-sized leftovers were still available.

Not everyone has had an opportunity to walk, hike, ride, or drive through a desert, but no matter how one does it, they must prepare for the trip. I can’t expect to meet a fellow traveler to bail me out of trouble if I forget extra water, bread, a map, or a compass. I could survive for a while on such a trek, but if I become lost, get too hot, dehydrated, and depleted of energy-providing things, it could be my last journey and, very possibly, I will become food for foraging carrion birds. Jesus wasn’t going to let anything like that happen to the people who followed him, and spiritually, he still does that for any of us who seek his help.

Jesus knew what it was like being in the desert with no provisions. Remember, he spent forty days there, by himself, except for the tempter who waits for all of us. I may walk through an emotional or spiritual desert, but Jesus will walk with me, showing me where to go and how to survive. I can count on that. I don’t think I’ll have to rely on sand bread or stone soup with Jesus along.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 15, 2020.

*Edited 2/15/20 to correct location of Petra in Jordan rather than Syria, as originally published.

Paybacks

One of the blessings (and lessons) of Education for Ministry (EfM) is our weekly theological reflection, a way of discussing a topic through the lenses of tradition, culture, personal position, and action. Often one or more group members get insights, thoughts, and ideas that were like little revelations, making them see things differently and, possibly, changing their perceptions of even very familiar situations or words.

One night we were talking, and the subject turned to the treatment of slaves in the southern colonies. One thought that came out was the possibility of restitution or reparation to family members of deceased slaves as a way of trying to make amends. I’ve been thinking about this concept for a while and have been investigating what the actual words we’ve been using mean, as well as how the Bible would tell us to act.

Three words seem somewhat entangled in such a discussion: Retribution, the punishment for a wrong or criminal act; Restitution, restoration of something lost or stolen from an owner or giving payment for injury or loss; and Reparation, making amends or otherwise helping those who have been wronged. Restitution is also a legal process of compensation (usually monetarily) for damages while reparation/s are traditionally payments of time, effort, or money to do the same thing. Each word represents one facet of a process of attempting to right wrongs, whether done yesterday or decades, even centuries ago.

Concerning payment for those whose ancestors were sold into slavery by fellow African tribesmen to European slave traders and then transported to various parts of the world where slave labor was needed, it would seem difficult to me to define precisely who the enslaved ancestor/ancestors were, and how to honestly compensate them for the pain and suffering those ancestors and their descendants faced.

I wonder – is giving monetary restitution enough?  Or do we give the appearance of providing for people who have been wronged without really addressing the problem and trying to fix it?

The Hebrew Scriptures offered many ways and means for wrongdoing to be amended and forgiven, each specific to a particular person, group, or nation. Many times God punished the people for going against God’s will, each time featuring a flood, an expulsion from Eden, a separation from the tribe, loss of land and property, and even exile. When the people finally repented and returned to following God’s rules, God lifted the punishment and forgave the transgressions.

Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek, but not to be a total doormat either.  We are to treat others as our neighbors, whether they are residents or aliens in our land. We are to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the prisoners, care for the ill, children, and elderly, and to follow God’s laws. If we encounter evildoing, we are to do our best to counter it and remove it, returning ourselves and the land to righteousness under God. It sounds like a familiar tune for these days, at least to my way of thinking.

In culture, there seem to be strong feelings on both sides of the restitution/reparation/ retribution discussion. For Native Americans, almost every tribe has made a treaty with the US government, which has been broken time and time again by that government. Lands that were seized have not been returned, even though the areas are sacred to the tribes. There are still many tribes that suffer persistent poverty, lack of jobs, lack of healthcare, lack of education, and loss of lives by those who can’t see things getting any better for them. Veterans also suffer a high rate of suicide due to post-war trauma, lack of trust in the government who promised that veterans would receive care after their enlistments were over, and feelings of disconnect and alienation from family and community because of this lack of trust. Cultural groups have been marginalized and refused assistance when needed because they are “not white” and, therefore, not valuable in the greater community. There are so many examples that it is hard to limit it to just a few examples. All I have to do is look around to see them, and the feelings of frustration are heartbreaking.

Is it just monetary restitution or reparation that is needed, or are they only part of the cure? To whom do we need to make amends – like the Japanese interned in camps during WWII, the Jews who were ignored as they suffered and died in their ghettos and camps during that same war, the Native Americans who were slaughtered and infected with diseases to cull them from lands the whites wanted for themselves?

Perhaps we are all guilty of hubris, and words like restitution and reparation are empty words that sound nice but don’t really mean anything to us. The rich are taxed less and less, and the middle- and lower-classes are taxed more and more, often to having one or more in the family working two or three jobs (when they can get them at all), simply to make ends meet. Families, once touted as the foundation of our society, are fragmenting due to poverty, alcohol, drugs, frustration, and illness. What restitution/reparation will resolve their problems?  What amends will patch the breaches and bring families, communities, and nations together again?

I saw a billboard a few years ago that said, “Don’t make me come down there” and was signed “God.”  Maybe that is what it is going to take to straighten things out. Who knows? The only thing I can think of to do is treat people as I want to be treated, help someone whenever I can do something for them, and encourage others to do the Jesus thing of following the Beatitudes and obeying God. We have many problems to fix and accruing more every day.  However we do it, we need to get started. God demands that of us.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, February 7, 2020.

St. Brigid's Day

Everyone is familiar with the celebration of Saint Patrick on March 17. He is considered the patron saint of Ireland (along with St. Columba), but there is also St. Bridgid, whose commemoration we celebrate today.

Bridgid was born in 451 A.D. to a Christian mother who was a slave to a married chieftain, thus rendering Bridgid herself a slave. When the chieftain found Brigid’s mother was pregnant, he sold her to a Druid. After her birth, the infant and then the child was unable to tolerate anything from the Druid’s kitchen. In the end, it is said, they had to get a white cow with red ears to provide food for her, and this cow’s milk was the only kind of food she could tolerate. At the age of ten, she was returned to her original master, the chieftain, who was also her father.

From all accounts, Bridgid was a very kindhearted child, seeing needs, and trying her best to fulfill as she was able. If she met someone who needed shoes, she gave her own or would help herself to her stepmother’s clothes and shoes when needed to help the poor. If she found hungry people, she gave from her father’s storehouses and gave away staples like bread, butter, and other goods so that the hungry could eat.

Finally, the chieftain had enough and took her to the court of the King of Leister, with the hope that the king would buy her. At the court, somehow, she acquired the king’s jeweled sword, which she gave to a poor man to barter with so that he could feed his family. Oddly enough, the king was a Christian who recognized the spirit of generosity in the young girl, asked her father for her freedom, and stated that her mercy was greater than any others before God. Her kindness seemed to be unending and, although a terrible trial for her family, it was a great help to those for whom she acquired goods.

She returned to her mother and the Druid’s house after she gained her freedom, and it is said that she prayed that her beautiful face would be made ugly so that no man would wish to marry her. She had taken a vow of chastity, and had also heard St. Patrick preach. It is said that the saint heard her final vows in the monastery and that Patrick used the form of final vows and consecration for a male. His monks, aghast at his error, hurried to tell him of the mistake he had made but Patrick responded that she was destined for great things.

Bridgid went on to found two monasteries, one for men and one for women. In addition to the usual monastic works, she also established a school for the arts, including illumination and metalworking.  She remained in contact with Patrick for the remainder of her life, a life that ended in 525 AD.

Where are the St. Bridgid’s among us? I am not sure that many would go to the lengths Brigid did, taking things from her wealthy family and others to supply the needs of the hungry, the naked, or the needy.

Many of us, if not most of us, have much more than we need. I know I have drawers full of things that I may use again one day, but possibly not. I’m wary of throwing stuff out because as soon as I do, I seem to need the same item sometime in the next few weeks and have to go out and repurchase it. There are books that I know I should get rid of, but it is tough to get rid of theology books; they don’t seem to be in high demand like Harry Potter or romance novels or even a bunch of cozies. Still, I have things that I need to get rid of, and I might benefit someone else, so maybe I ought to practice being St. Bridgid in the coming weeks and find homes for things that I won’t use or wear again to make room for some zen to move in.

Generosity is a gift from God; we receive his God’s grace abundantly and without asking. Isn’t it about time that we started practicing passing that grace on in whatever tangible ways we can? If money is tight, perhaps contributing cookies to a bake sale to benefit charity work, helping at a food bank, or maybe making peanut butter sandwiches to pass them to beggars on the street corners who proclaim their hunger. Perhaps they’re just scamming, but at least it’s a token way of trying to meet a small bit of the world’s need. There are lots of ways we could do this if we just would.

Jesus said, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.” Bridgid certainly was compassionate, and beloved for acts of kindness. Maybe we never make ourselves saints, but a few good works certainly wouldn’t hurt in this world where such actions seem to be becoming fewer and further between.

This week I will do some St. Brigid work. It’s the least I can do. Maybe I could knit some scarves for people standing out on the street in the cold. Heaven knows I have a lot of spare yarn to use up.  And do I actually need multiple t-shirts in different shades of blue that have been hanging in the closet for a year or more? 


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café on Saturday, February 1, 2020.

Conversion of St Paul

Acts 9:1-22


The story of the conversion of Saul is a familiar one, placed in the Epiphany season as both an educational tale about the early days of the followers of Jesus Christ outside of the disciples who followed him in the flesh, and also a story about how one of the most hated persecutors of those Christians became a preacher and evangelist who reached people outside the usual group who had previously heard of Jesus.  While the disciples themselves were preachers and teachers, the story of Saul is one of epiphany, trial, and forging new ground in the spread of the news of Jesus Christ outside of Israel.

Saul was a fervent Pharisee, educated in the law and also the practices of Judaism. Pharisees were strict followers of both the written and oral traditions of the faith, strict in interpretation and practice. He was a type of super-Pharisee since part of his job was to find those who were not following the laws and traditions as strictly as they felt it should be, and to crack down on those who practiced heresy, blasphemy, and other crimes against the teachings of Judaism.

Saul was zealous in his searching for law-breakers, and that is how he came to be present at the stoning of a man called Stephen, a deacon in the congregation of the apostles in Jerusalem, and a spokesman for the teachings of Christ to those who would listen and possibly become new proselytes in the faith. Paul stood guard over the cloaks of those who stoned Stephen for his blasphemy, and who approved and encouraged the stoning to its conclusion with Stephen’s death. He had undoubtedly heard Stephen’s masterful recital of the history of salvation in the scriptures but was unswayed by Stephen’s arguments that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God, and the messenger of salvation for the world. 

From the story in Acts, we know that Saul sought permission to go to Damascus to disrupt the growing movement called “The Way” and gained approval from the high priest to do so. As Saul approached Damascus, he was stopped by a blinding light, which caused him to fall off his mount onto the roadway, blind and frightened by a loud voice asking why Saul had persecuted the man Jesus and his followers. This was Saul’s first meeting with Jesus in person. Saul was told to go into Damascus and to follow the directions he would be given. Some men of the town helped him to the house of a man called Judas (how curious that the man named Judas betrayed Jesus but another gave refuge to a persecutor of Jesus). Saul stayed there for three days, not eating or drinking but praying.

On the third day, a man named Ananias (another coincidence, since another Ananias was the high priest who condemned Jesus) came to the house at God’s command, although with some trepidation, knowing Saul’s reputation as a relentless man toward followers of Jesus. He told Saul what God had instructed him to do and touched his eyes, allowing Saul to see once again. Saul may have been blinded under his original name and profession, but was reborn with new sight, a baptism for cleansing, a new job as an evangelist, and a new name, Paul.

Paul went on to evangelize the gentiles around the Mediterranean, and to travel to many ports and cities, establishing new outposts of Christianity. His many letters to various groups of new Christians became the earliest and most influential writings about the new church. Many times students of Paul’s writings wish he had used more punctuation (Koine Greek and Hebrew did not use commas, periods, etc.), and that Paul had included the text or at least the gist of the letters to which he was replying so that we could more accurately establish precisely to what he was talking about in his replies. We wrestle with some of the concepts (slavery, homosexuality, the role of women, etc.) he either stated or condemned, but we have learned in the past couple of centuries that we don’t consider the context of Paul’s words and world when it comes to translation, culture, or words that don’t appear anywhere else in Biblical literature. We have even fought wars over the interpretation of Paul’s utterances. 

It is little doubt that the teachings of Paul have had an impact on Christianity, second only to Jesus Christ himself. For someone who never met Jesus in the flesh, many of his writings have had much more effect on the faith than the words of even Jesus’s disciples themselves. It is because of Paul, the Way moved out of mainstream Judaism and into the inclusion of gentiles, and outcasts. Paul’s travels and expansion of outposts of Christian believers set the stage for global recognition and, in many cases, acceptance of that faith in many lands and cultures. It has not always been easy; in fact, wars on the grounds of religious belief are still part of our global perspective. Nevertheless, we have much for which to thank Paul, not least the lengths he had to go to and the suffering he had to endure to complete his task as God instructed.

We may not have conversions as dramatic as Paul’s, but now and then, when we get knocked off our donkeys, we have to stop and look around for what might be in front of our faces that we wouldn’t have seen otherwise. While we’re at it, we might need to rely on our other senses other than mere sight to tell us when God is trying to get our attention. We might not get a new identity or a lot of renown, but we’ll be a bit closer to doing God’s will and carrying Jesus’s message. Isn’t that our primary job as Christians?

Beware of bright lights and rearing donkeys today. We might be in for a real change in our lives.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, January 25, 2020.

Unfinished Dreams

I dreamed I was me, but not the present me. I was in a culture where I felt comfortable, but more like a native village. I was about thirteen or so. I was chosen with seven others to leave the group and travel to a nearby school, where we were to be taught by craftsmen and mystics in one of eight categories. It was an honor to be one of the chosen to attend. We traveled for several days and finally arrived at a large clearing in the forest surrounded by small cottages where masters and their assigned students lived.

We were taken to a meeting in a building open to the sky but with columns and carved lintels that formed eight bays, grouped two per side. Each bay also labeled with the name of a gift or craft carved on the lintel. Each person’s name was called, and they were directed to one of the bays. I don’t remember what the names of the other bays were, but I was sent to Bay number 6, which bore the name of “Weaver.” The master there gave me a large carry bag, woven in a random pattern of grey, turquoise, and copper-colored bands of yarn. I recognized the master as a person I knew and respected in this life, one I was pleased to know as a friend and a wise woman. I remember thinking how blessed I was to have such a lovely gift, an opportunity to learn from this master, and also the additional blessing of friends to help me on my journey, both physical and spiritual. Then I was suddenly awakened, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get back to that dream.

All of us have dreams from time to time, some remembered, some half-remembered, and some forgotten when we woke from them. Some of the dreams were good, and some were nightmares. When I was young, it seemed most of the ones I remembered were nightmares that frightened me into calling into the darkness for my parents to come and chase them away. My calls were always answered, and the bogies were dispelled for another night.

Dreams seem to be a vehicle for things I need to consider or perhaps episodes I need to work through. I remember that often dreams in the Bible were messages that the dreamer was supposed to get regarding something God wanted them to know. At other times, God used God’s own voice or that of an angel to pass the message along.

Joseph, Jesus’ earthly father, got several messages in dreams, each of which revealed what Joseph needed to do to protect both Mary and the baby Jesus. Peter dreamed about a sheet being lowered from heaven and containing all types of animals along with the message that Peter (and we) should not consider unclean what God had made as clean.

Joseph, son of Jacob, advised the Pharaoh of his time how to prepare for both the feast and famine to come. This event brought the tribe of Jacob to Egypt to escape the famine in their own land. Generations later, the Pharaoh of the time received messages in dreams about plagues to come if Pharaoh did not release the Israelites to return home. That Pharaoh did not listen to Moses’ explanation of the dreams, and so the plagues struck until Pharaoh agreed to let the Israelites go, and the exodus began.  

God still speaks in dreams. I don’t know many who would not continue to be moved by the speech by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., which we know as “I have a dream.  It has been a motivating ideal for countless people not only of the United States but the world who seek to, whether they recognize it or not, want to help bring the Kingdom of God closer to the current world. Even dreams of ordinary people can spark actions that help others to come closer to that kingdom, one that is needed now more than ever.

I have a feeling that the dream I had was unfinished when a cat landed on me and woke me up. I felt it was going somewhere, and I remember it so vividly, even days and weeks later. But try as I will, I can’t go back there. It’s like a cliff-hanger for a movie that won’t have a sequel.

So that leaves me with few options. Probably the most effective would be to accept the gift and learn what I can from it. I receive gifts every day that I don’t recognize, like the gift of a neighbor’s helping me to mow my yard with its crop of tall weeds, or who want me to knit something for them that is both personal and useful (they’re supplying the yarn and needles). The Weaver’s present of the carry bag brought me back to knitting, a craft I hadn’t practiced for years. It has also encouraged me to look for more gifts and messages expressed in dreams.

This time, though, I hope the cat will hold off for just a little while, letting me finish the dream before pouncing on me to announce it’s time for breakfast. Or was that God’s idea – a way to make me ponder what I remember and try to figure out the ending.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, January 17, 2020.

Learning, Wisdom, and Epiphany

To acquire knowledge one must study, but to acquire wisdom, one must observe - Marilyn vos Savant

I love learning. If I'm really interested in a subject, I want to know everything I can about the subject. Unfortunately, not all of my school classes, from kindergarten through college, really fascinated me that much. One summer between elementary school and high school, something got me interested in Astronomy, and I spent the whole summer researching, making star maps, and trying to identify stars and constellations I could see from my back yard but without a telescope. To this day, I can still spot Orion far faster than I can the Big Dipper. Another summer, during college, I spent almost a month camping with a friend in a relatively isolated but not remote area, visiting cemeteries, talking to people whose families had lived there for generations, finding out about why their community was different than the rest of the area. That was great fun, and tremendously satisfying.

Learning is essential for everybody. It's one of the most important things we do in life, both in and out of formal educational institutions and organized tutoring. Sir John Templeton once said, "A day without learning is a day wasted. There is so much to learn and so little time to learn it." Evidence of this is thinking about how many times a day or even a week, we consult resources such as Google, even if for nothing more than as a help to solve a crossword puzzle.

We learn to survive disasters such as floods, earthquakes, etc., by watching documentaries, reading articles, or listening to experts. We want to be nurses, doctors, engineers, teachers, lawyers, managers, experts on a specific topic, or to build on a basic understanding of a subject or job where we already have a rudimentary knowledge, all in the attempt to improve our lives and those of our family members. Online education has become one of the fastest-growing forms of learning in the world. Even if the sum of new things we learn in a day is to fix a faucet or use an ATM at the bank or store, we are wiser than we were just a few minutes before we tried, whether or not we are successful, to do the new thing.  

Wisdom is a slightly different kettle of fish, however. Wisdom can come from learning or knowledge, but it also comes from experience and often an insight, an epiphany perhaps, that adds a new layer or a flash of understanding that was not there even a blink of an eye before. Being wise is often a trait attributed to the elders of a group. There is a recognition that with age comes recognition of the long lives they have lived and the experiences they have had. Until recent generations, most have not had access to advanced educational programs, so their skills have served as their instruction. Many cultures that revere their elders’ wisdom seem to be those who are closer to their roots, the earth, and their traditions.

During Advent, we sang a verse of the hymn that began “O Sapientia” or “O Wisdom.” It pays tribute to the wisdom that comes from the mouth of God, an understanding that comes not from age and experience but from whom we consider the source of all knowledge. God’s wisdom has been present since before the world was made. Did God know everything at that time? It seems from several parts of scripture that God learned from experience or even from the words of God’s own creations, so, in my very humble opinion, I believe God still learns, probably a thousand steps ahead of us. I admit I could be wrong, but it makes sense to me.

We use “Wisdom” as one of the appellations for the Holy Spirit. In Hebrew and Jewish studies, “Shekhinah” is a name frequently used for “Spirit.” The Greeks used the name “Sophia.” Both Sophia and Shekhinah are feminine word forms, although the Spirit is commonly referred to in the masculine.

In this season of Epiphany, we often hear about the sudden flashes of insight or understanding that we call wisdom. Wisdom regarding the true desires of Herod to know the location of the Christ Child showed the Magi what was happening and how they should respond by going home a different way. Prophets in the Bible were given new insights and instructions in dreams or appearances of angels, often changing the opinions and thoughts of the human recipients quite radically. New inventions, new ways of doing things, new understandings frequently come as sudden flashes of thinking and comprehension that help advance learning, the sciences, and even the arts. A person’s mind may have been chewing on an idea or concept for some time when, all of a sudden, somehow, a thought comes that resolves any problem or connects the separate parts into a workable whole. 

Wisdom, learning, intuition, inspiration – all are words that can indicate the change of mind and heart. In our Christian life, it is something for which we hope and pray. We may find that meditation and contemplation help us to still our minds so that God can get a word in edgewise, a concept that is usually something we need to think about, act on, or work through.  Ideally, we should seek new wisdom and new learning through daily prayer and regular attendance at church or study sessions, but sometimes an ordinary everyday experience or the reading of something can provide the spark that we need. It could be something minimal, but could also be or lead to something that could change the world.

This Epiphany season, I am going to try to increase my knowledge (learning) and insight (wisdom). Instead of dulling my mind with reruns and mind-candy, maybe silence and learning to stop the hamster cage of my mind are what I need to bring new epiphanies. I’ve had epiphanies before, and they have been mind-altering and sometimes life-changing. I think I need to work on experiencing more, with help from God, Jesus, and especially Spirit, whether I call her Sapientia, Shekhinah, or Sophia, the aspects of light, wisdom, dwelling, and presence are gifts for which I ask.

Most of all, I must try to learn something new every day.  Otherwise, what good can I do for the world? I might as well push up daisies from the underground parking lot we call the cemetery. I guess I’d best get busy because while daisies are pretty and I’ll be doing that at some point in time, I don’t need to rush it. That’s my epiphany for today.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, January 11, 2020.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

There’s an old saying about time flying when you’re having fun, or better yet, making that into a question of “Are we having fun yet?”  During my working years, it became a kind of joke, one we would ask each other when things were tense, stressed, or frustrated. The answer almost always came with an “Oh, yeah,” said with a trace of sarcasm or resignation. Even now that I’m retired, it is still a buzz phrase a friend, and I use to indicate one or the other of us is definitely not having fun.

Last year, time seemed to fly, for the most part, but most of it actually was not fun.  Oh, there were lots of cute kitten photos and amusing memes, plus cuddly animal stories, rescues, and the like. But there were also lots of depressing stories, the kind that could make a body want to curl up in a corner with a warm blanket and just shut out the whole world. Depression seemed very easy to sink into, and the news from day to day only seemed to make the black hole deeper. The national political scene goes from bad to ludicrous; world situations seem to teeter on the edge of a cliff. The nation’s infrastructure crumbles, but a new wall appears to be pushed ruthlessly along. School shootings, as well as gunfire in churches, malls, bars, concerts, and just about anywhere else people gather. Even homes aren’t safe from stray bullets, drive-by shootings, and home invasions. Children in cages, elders suffering neglect, Native Americans still being pushed off their lands and their holy places desecrated by bureaucrats hell-bent-for-leather for profits above ethics. Have we had enough bad news yet? 

Now that it’s 2020, what are our chances of turning things around and making things better for all of us? What is it going to take to do something positive?  When are we going to really start having fun rather than seeing fun as work, which is tedious, futile, or something we should be enjoying? Even on vacations, which are supposed to be about fun and recreation, are often more tiring and stressful than the typical workday.

I’m sure Jesus had lots of times when he would have said, “Are we having fun yet?” only to mean it in a less-than-enthusiastic way. It must have been hard having no permanent home, not always being sure where and when the next meal was coming from, and repeating the same things over and over to people who didn’t always seem to get what he was trying to teach. Even his disciples appeared as dim as 15-watt light bulbs at times. Indeed, there was no way that the journey to Calvary could be considered fun, but Jesus did everything he was supposed to do without complaint or trying to weasel out of it. He didn’t ask that God make things easier for him, just that he could do God’s will, whatever that might be.

So life isn’t going to be all fun and games. Now, I’m sure God had fun making the world with all its diversity of color, shape, texture, and size, from the amoebae and diatoms to the whales and elephants, mountains and oceans, but I can’t do stuff like that. I can enjoy creating simple things, like making a scarf or writing a blog post. I can vote to support something I believe in, and against things I feel are wrong or against the greater good. I can read and investigate what I read and the sources they cite. I can try to keep an open mind and heart, and try to do whatever I can to follow Jesus’s example of doing what is needed without expecting it to be fun.

But then, who says work can’t be fun? Maybe I just need to re-evaluate what “fun” is, and whether positive results can be enjoyable.  Being Christian doesn’t mean I have to be all gloom and doom and waiting for the Second Coming next Thursday. Being Christian means we get Christmas and Easter. We have the Beatitudes, John 3:16, Micah 6:8, the hope of the kingdom of God on earth, the promise of heaven, and the assurance of the love of God, the salvation Jesus bought for us, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

Who knows?  Working at making the world better might be fun because the benefits will be out of this world! 

God bless.


 Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café  Saturday, January 4, 2020.