Sheltering

One thing about living alone is that I can make decisions for myself, at least, for the most part, decisions like what to have for dinner and when, where I go and when, and who I invite to my trailer and when. It isn’t a bad lifestyle except when faucets need new seals, the grass needs mowing, or someone tells me when and where I have to go, and I have no say in it.

I am usually a hermit. I can stay at home for days and only go out to lunch with friends on occasion, visit the grocery store, or pick up prescriptions. My record is about a full week, with no traces of cabin fever at all. This week, however, I seem to have a mad urge to go to the grocery store for something I forgot or have decided I want, go get a drive-thru burger from my favorite fast food joint, or even take a different (and sometimes longer) route to get to somewhere reasonably close by. It’s unlike me, and the reason is that there is a virus out there that kills, and I, as well as everybody else, is susceptible to it. While I don’t fear death, I’m not exactly going down steep hills on roller skates to get there.

Because of this virus, people are being encouraged, even ordered, to remain at home, work from home if at all possible, and stay put for at least fourteen days. That’s what is making me so itchy; it isn’t my choice to stay home, it’s someone else’s, and I honestly don’t like being told what I can do and when I can leave my own house.

I understand the concept of shelter-in-place as a way of cutting down cross-contamination from the virus. The Lord knows I don’t want to pass something along to someone that would kill them, any more than I would like to catch this thing and expire myself. Ok, I am almost out of a few things that I can live without for a while, but I do want to go and get them, despite the warnings. Since I have several of the designations that make me a person at risk, I know I should just stay home and only go out if truly necessary, but I just can’t always convince my mind that I am sheltering in place for my personal good and the good of others (like my cats).

“Shelter” is a word that represents safety, refuge, comfort, and protection. Quite often, it means  a temporary state, like taking cover from the rain under an umbrella, awning, canopy, or roof. We seek protection from the heat in our air-conditioned cars, homes, offices, and other buildings. We try to take refuge from war, famine, epidemics, and oppression in places that we perceive to be safer than where we are currently. Sometimes that works, quite often it doesn’t.

The Bible is full of references to sheltering. The first one that came to my mind was, “ He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty”(Ps 91:1). Then there is “There will be a shelter to give shade from the heat by day, and refuge and protection from the storm and the rain” (Is 4:6). One that is frequently used in perilous times is “God is our refuge and strength, A very present help in times of trouble” (Ps 46:1). There are many more such verses, all expressing longing for and trust in God as a place for us to feel safe and protected, even from the worst of situations.

I know many have faith in verses such as these, so much so that they are sure that God will not let anything bad happen to them. So what happens if and when it does? What if a hurricane comes and floods the land and people lose their houses, places of work, and even their lives? Where is God’s refuge then?  Or what if a young child contracts a disease or illness that proves fatal, despite the prayers and supplications said on their behalf? Is the faith of the parents and loved ones misplaced then because God let an innocent life be taken?

During this epidemic, it’s easy to question where the refuge is, and whether or not God will actually act to save God’s people. We have doctors, nurses, first responders, firefighters, police, janitors, clerks, laboratory technicians – hundreds of thousands of people doing their utmost to keep as many people safe and healthy as possible, even at the risk of contracting it themselves. Can’t we see God in them, working through and with them to create a refuge under God’s wings? What about grocery clerks and stockers who put themselves in positions of vulnerability so that those looking for food and supplies might find them? It might seem funny to think of God as a janitor or cleaning person, but God loves the meek and lowly, especially those putting themselves in danger so that others might stay well.

So as we shelter in place, seeking refuge from illness and harm, let’s take time to remember those who may not see their jobs as a ministry, especially one sent from God, but nonetheless a ministry of love and hope, one that will help restore the earth and the health of all of God’s creations, human and otherwise.

Also, as we stay willingly quarantined in our homes, may we pray for those who are in danger, who have been inflicted, and who seek to be cured of their illness. Let us find ways to praise God and thank God for the homes in which we shelter, rather than the shelter we might be seeking under a bridge or a homeless shelter. We have much to be grateful for in this time of trial, so let’s spend some time considering those things rather than our shortages or greed.

Stay safe, my friends. Prayers go out for all of you, ill or healthy.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 28, 2020.

The Pharisee, the Tax-Collector, and the Speculators

Luke 18:9-14


What a difference a week makes! Last week I went to the store and got everything on my list. Not everything I needed, but that was because I forgot to write some of them down, like paper towels. This week I went to the store on Monday to pick up the latest batch of "gotta have" items like cheese and paper towels but RATS! I got to the paper goods aisles, and it looked like a skeleton without anything on the bones!  Thank God last week I'd bought toilet paper, but this Monday I faced devastation. No cleaners, no towels, no TP, no sanitizers, no bleach, no Kleenex to be found. I can't remember feeling like this since we lived in the Philippines and went to Subic Bay to go to the commissary and exchange only to find that the fleet had come in and bought just about everything in both places. No bras, almost no baby furniture, no stockings, not much of anything else were available. Those of us who lived there would just have to wait until another shipment came in from the States.

I did notice that on Monday, I didn't see any wailing and gnashing of teeth. In fact, people were exchanging rueful smiles and joking comments about the lack of everything we usually depended on (including Depends). There were some who wandered down the empty aisles as if something would miraculously appear as rewards from God for the person walking by and needing those particular products, but on the whole, I didn't hear a whole lot of grumbling. It seemed that in the week since my last visit, many of us had faced up to the fact that we were going to have shortages because others had bought and hoarded common household products, and that the rest of us were simply out of luck, whether in that store, any other store in town or surrounding towns, or even from our go-to friend, Amazon.

We heard a lot more this week about quarantines, businesses closed or limiting hours, drive-thru windows at restaurants would be the only access to the food the establishment would provide, concerts and sporting events closed as were schools and even churches. We were urged to self-quarantine ourselves in our homes, find new activities to keep us occupied, work from home if possible, and explore new ways of communicating with groups and friends.

Churches began to offer services via the internet. Schools and colleges began to offer classes online to offset the brick-and-mortar classrooms that were closed for the duration.  Parents were invited to homeschool their children and include time outside for play as well as nature walks to be part of their new curriculum. All this in one week!

We have been treated to lists of celebrities and sports figures who have either been tested for the virus or have come down with it. We are told that testing would be available at some point in time for the rest of us to find out if we had been exposed, but enough for all was not yet available, much less a vaccine to prevent or ameliorate the symptoms. Once again, it seemed like the rich and famous were given preferential treatment while the rest were told to not go to work, to stay home, and wash their hands frequently.

I read the story of the Pharisee and the tax-collector and thought immediately of the crisis facing us right now. The Pharisee stood at the front of the synagogue and prayed aloud about his good deeds and righteousness while comparing himself favorably to the humble man who stayed in the shadows and said his prayers quietly. Tax-collectors were considered to be traitors to the Judaism they practiced because they gathered the taxes from the people that were required by the Roman Emperor and also added a bit onto the bills for themselves. The Pharisee reminded God of the sins of those like the man in the corner, but the tax collector prayed quietly, asking God to forgive his own sins.  

I couldn't help but think of the two men in the synagogue and compare them to people today, namely the rich who have everything they need and can always obtain more, and the poor who have to go without necessities. In addition to the rich and famous, I would add the speculators who bought up all the supplies of particular goods so that they could make money by selling them for a much higher price to those who needed them, thus increasing the gold in the pockets of the gamblers at the cost of impoverishing others.

While the tax collector did line his pockets with what we consider ill-gotten gains, to many, it was seen as the cost of doing business. Like stewards in wealthy households, padding the bill a bit gave them currency above their bare wages and made them able to improve their lives and those of the members of their families.

As we sit in our homes this week, perhaps we could think about where we have been speculators and gamblers and where we have been honest, especially in our daily doings. Have we even been truly honest with God? Indeed, God wants honesty from us, but since God already knows our sins and wickednesses, it is for our benefit that we are encouraged to speak of them to God.  It is a way of cleansing our selves and our souls, telling God about all the things we have hidden from everyone else, and knowing that God will forgive us. It is our way of bringing evil into the light and letting it be purged from us.

Lent is a perfect time to practice this purging. It is tough to do, but the reward is a lightness of spirit and trust in the One who forgives all our sins. And it can be done without going out, searching for things that aren't on the shelves yet, and coming home empty-handed but with the possibility of having acquired an illness.

Give it a shot. Also, look to see who is hoarding and speculating, and who is practicing honesty. It's a fascinating study.

God bless.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 21, 2020.

Prayer, the Virus, and Namaste

I pretty much feel like the most horrible person in the world to admit that I am almost grateful to the coronavirus. For a while, anyway, there are more stories, news reports, announcements, and information on the virus than the other news stories that we have encountered in the past few years.  Public rudeness, hatred, misogyny, shootings, wrong-way drivers, finger-pointing, name-calling, tweets, Facebook posts, and what have you seem to have had a monopoly on our discussions. The media also spurs it on until suddenly there’s this new threat.

Don’t get me wrong; I have empathy and sorrow for those who have contracted the virus and/or have lost loved ones to it, no matter where on earth those losses have taken place. I pray for the medical and response teams, caring for the ill and the dead, at the risk of their own lives. I sympathize with those quarantined either in their homes, hospitals, shelters, or wherever.  I regret the loss of the opportunity to go to church, receive the sacraments, and find the comfort that worship can bring. I worry about those whose jobs have been put on hold because it brings them in contact with the general populace.  Children are losing valuable education time, social events have been cancelled, sports have been curtailed. This threat causes fear and apprehension, such as we in our country have seldom seen.

It isn’t just coronavirus that has us looking uneasily over our shoulders and listening for a sneeze, cough, or panting that could indicate that we’ve been exposed. We fear for our safety, our health, and our well-being in light of social, medical, and educational programs that have been cut. We fear the sight of men, women, and sometimes teens carrying firearms in public just as those same people fear to have their arms taken away, leaving them helpless. We are frightened, anxious, and almost apathetic with so much going on that we seem to be individually unable to combat, much less defeat.

Those living in Jesus’ time had many of the same concerns, their lands conquered by the Romans. In other parts of the world, there were similar problems with other conquerors. It didn’t do to get too comfortable anywhere, because things could change radically with the direction of the wind. People tried to cure their own illnesses and injuries, sometimes with success, and sometimes with the help of those familiar with the conditions and the herbs and procedures that could possibly help.

In our own time, we rely so much on technology to inform us, help heal and cure us, and to keep us safe. Technology also raises our fears about what could happen and is happening in this crisis as well as others. It seems that which can give us so much hope and promise has given us uneasy feelings, panic, and high anxiety about what could happen.

Jesus healed and cured so many, Jew and Gentile alike. He cured the incurable, raised the dead, and brought wholeness to the broken. There were undoubtedly others who could do some of the things Jesus could, but they did not do it with the power of God behind it. Even charlatans get lucky once in a while.

When we worry, get anxious, are in fear, are facing trials and tribulations, we often call on God to help us out. We thank God for successful outcomes, and sometimes curse God when things don’t work out, or someone dies despite all the prayers. We sometimes expect an immediate correction of whatever is wrong while not thinking that God may not do it as quickly as expected, if ever. Sometimes we have lessons to learn from situations, and the causes and the resolutions through patience and practice. God has all the time in the world, so who are we to rush God just because we are in a hurry?

We say we trust God to watch over us and will be with us without our having to do anything other than ask. We also don’t always ask until we get ourselves into situations we are helpless to change or get ourselves out of. Prayer is good and accomplishes a lot, but not always everything needed at the time.

It’s good for us to trust God and feel God will be taking care of us, but we shouldn’t feel we have to test our faith to the point where we fail to take precautions or appropriate steps for ourselves and those we love. Jesus, despite his prayers to be delivered, accepted that he had to face torture and crucifixion. God could have killed the Romans around the cross and rescued His son from such pain and degradation. This was Jesus’s moment of his most complete humanity, feeling separated from God, and facing death. At that moment, some of his most mystical teachings became clearer for us, as we walk and pray our way to the joy of Easter Sunday.

It is good to trust that God watches over, protects us, and will be with us no matter what. But we should not feel we have to test that trust by merely praying and not taking proper and universal precautions. Throughout the current coronavirus situation, God expects us to do simple prophylactic things. Actions such as washing our hands for a full twenty seconds can be timed by internally singing the Doxology, saying the Lord’s Prayer, or even reciting the prologue to the Constitution of the US.  Using Kleenexes or even the bend of one’s elbow to cover a sneeze or cough can avoid airborne contamination. Saying “Bless you!” when someone sneezes can be more helpful and kind for both you and the one who sneezed than running away or a gasp of horror. Remember, a sneeze could be from an allergy or a common cold as much as from the virus.

I think I may try greeting others as Charles, Prince of Wales, has done recently. The sign of namaste, with hands folded as if for prayer and a slight bow, represents recognition, honor, courtesy, politeness, respect, and gratitude to the other person. I’ve done it in the grocery store when I’ve run into Hindus and even Sikhs, and I frequently get a return bow with a big smile. Maybe it won’t prevent coronavirus, but it will bring a sense of sharing a blessing with those from another culture. God approves of gifts of the heart.

God bless.  Namaste.


Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café Saturday, March 14, 2020.

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.