Thinking About Speech

 

It's funny how a song or a story will suddenly pop into the mind and sit there for a while. It almost begs, "Think about me. Why am I important? What is going on in your life that brought me to mind?" Sometimes I can ignore it when it happens to me, but it often gets on the hamster wheel of my brain and takes off, not stopping for anything.

This time I was thinking of the story of the Tower of Babel, the construction project conceived by King Nimrod of Babylon that consisted of a tower that would reach to heaven and, therefore, to the gods (Gen. 11:1-9). It was a project to show the importance, power, and greatness of Nimrod and Babylon. We learned in Sunday School that it was the supreme act of hubris, something that the God of the Hebrews abhorred. As the tower grew in height, God made everybody speak in a different language so that none of them could understand anyone else. The result was confusion and the cessation of all work on the tower since nobody could communicate with anyone else. 

I was reading the story of Pentecost, the church's feast we celebrate tomorrow, the great gathering at Jerusalem to celebrate the Feast of Weeks. The disciples were present, as were followers of The Way (as Jesus's followers called it), and the Jews w0rshipping at the Temple. During the gathering, the Holy Spirit descended on the crowd. Suddenly, people were speaking in languages that they hadn't been able to use a second before.

The two stories, the Tower of Babel and Pentecost, both featured people speaking in other languages. In both, God was the initiator, although the reason for each was quite different. In Babylon, it was to prevent more self-glorification and presumption. In Jerusalem, it seemed to be a way of enabling the message of Jesus to be available for those living outside of Jerusalem or even on the trade routes through the country. One story showed how speech separated people. In contrast, the other showed where diversity of language could bring people together. 

It's no different today, and language can divide us or unite us. Even where diversity is acknowledged (if not universally celebrated), some people and groups hear particular languages spoken and immediately react with fear and anger. I'm somewhat ashamed that I live in a primarily Hispanic city, but I speak only a few words of Spanish. Suppose I were in a more evangelical kind of Christianity. In that case, I might feel even worse since I would probably be expected to evangelize, so I would need Spanish. On the other hand, I  could evangelize without speaking a word in any language. All it would take would be to live as Jesus wants me to and love my neighbors, show mercy, and walk humbly with God. 

Pass the word – no matter how you do it. 

Have a blessed Pentecost.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, June 5, 2022.

Realizing What Is Important.

 

What a week it has been! The water was shut off at about 6 pm on Monday and didn’t come back on for 16 hours. Even with an overnight outage, it was hard to do without it. Then, on Thursday, the power went out at about 10 am but fortunately came back about an hour and a half later. It was already 97° outside when it went out, and believe me, living in a tin can sort of house, it heats up fast. Glad this was only a short outage.

It made me stop and think about how easy it is to take things like power and running water for granted. Especially in the desert heat, it is so easy to dehydrate and get thirsty without any way to replenish it unless one has spare jugs of water in the fridge or the pantry. Hopefully, these have been filled to care for needs like hand washing, cat drinking bowls, and cooking. The toilet won’t flush, and that’s probably one of the worst things. 

Lacking a vehicle, I can’t go down to the store to buy more bottled water, so I’m reliant on what I have. Unfortunately, I don’t have a generator, so being without power is something that has to be endured. Luckily, with the power out, the water is on (minor local outage), so my dishwasher works (no, the cats won’t help! ). Instead of vacuuming, I can sweep and dust mop. There are still things I can do, like make the bean salad for the next few days, and load the washer. I have air conditioning now, so things are not just bearable but comfortable. But then I think of homeless people, and I think of them with great sadness and sympathy. I always know that someone will restore power and water, hopefully sooner rather than later. At the same time, the homeless have to search for it independently.  

I remember being in the heat of summer one year when a massive storm knocked out power to the whole area for several days. People walked around, checking damage and offering help. Things were genuinely unbearable in the hottest part of summer and highly humid. If worse came to worse, we could go and stay with relatives or even find some temporary lodging and food supplies. Still, it was inconvenient and frustrating to be unable to rely on things we usually find essential.

I remember days when air conditioning was uncommon, even in hot, humid summers. I would lie on the woven fiber rug in front of the box fan and get cold water from the fridge. We had a gas stove, so if power outages happened in winter, we still could close off the kitchen and be warm, plus have hot meals and drinks. Growing up, I didn’t know any homeless people, as we never saw any in our small town or even in the area. I didn’t get a full taste of it until I moved to Arizona. Even for the first decade or so, I seldom saw homeless folks unless we had to go to downtown Phoenix for something. Now they are everywhere. There’s a beggar on almost every street corner and people sleeping under trees and any other shade they can find. 

I wonder how people in Jesus’s time did it. No power, running water, or air conditioning – and I know they didn’t miss it because they’d never had any of those. Still, they had to cope with it, just as our homeless people have to manage now. Many of our homeless are mentally ill or disabled. Some families lost their homes when they lost their jobs. Their vehicles broke down, and there was no money to repair them, so finding other work was almost impossible. Getting to places where needed resources like food, aid, healthcare, or further assistance is available. Remember, not everywhere has a comprehensive bus system.

So what would Jesus ask us to do? We know the answer to that; we’ve heard it often enough. But knowing it and doing something about it are two different things. Like the misuse of guns to mow down children and other innocent people, something has to be done, and soon. Jesus moved from place to place, sometimes without food, water, or shelter, but he and the disciples made the best of it (even if the boys did gripe about it from time to time). He encountered people who needed feeding and healing and did something about it. He used the disciples to spread the message and the teachings that God had established long ago – love God, love neighbor, and do good everywhere you can. 

This summer, remember the homeless, poor, the sick, imprisoned, dying, hopeless, and confused. Care for the children and the elderly. Love God, be kind, do justice, be humble, and walk with God every single day.  

Originally published at Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, May 28, 2022.

Laying Out the New Kingdom

Isaiah 65:17-25

Something about oncoming holidays seems to spur a need for cleaning, clearing out, and pitching out. Maybe it is the thought that company is coming over for dinner. We want the house to look like the houses we see in commercials and magazine ads:  lots of bare space, counters and floors guests can see their faces in, and the bathroom looks like no one has ever used it. The cat litterbox is totally clean and well hidden, the dog's bed has been vacuumed within an inch of its life, and the carpets and floors have been cleaned until they are spotless and, to quote the old saying, you could eat off them. While cleaning, we run across broken things, catalogs and magazines that are out of date, unused items, replacement pictures, and school art projects. Those things get pitched. Before long, though, the newly claimed space will be the home of something else to occupy the recently emptied place.

I was thinking of how God did house cleaning. In the time of Noah, God caused a flood covering the whole earth except for Noah, his family, and either two or seven of each kind of bird, animal, reptile, and other creatures. Unicorns were not mentioned in scripture, nor were the dinosaurs, which asteroids wiped out, or so we postulate. It has long been thought that natural disasters were punishments from God and opportunities to rebuild things, bigger and better than they were before. The Bible often uses dislocation of whole nations or people to punish them only to have them return centuries later, to reclaim and rebuild as God wanted them to do.

In the Isaiah passage, God is setting out the plans for new heavens and earth, places where there will be none of the sins and imperfections of the old ones. They will be happy places, safe for their inhabitants, and where equality will be unilateral. This is the kingdom of God that Jesus often spoke of, the new earth where the earth would be renewed and respected, people would treat each other as neighbors and siblings, and poverty, sickness, crime, hunger, sadness, and negativity would have no place. This passage, written by 3^rd Isaiah, encouraged people who were in yet another captivity and those left behind. The result would be a place of peace and harmony for all, even nature.

We often talk about this kingdom and say we want to create this heaven on earth, but what are we willing to give up to attain it? What do we need to throw out? Perhaps old prejudices, hatreds, feelings of superiority, and entitlements to do what we want and where. What do we need to change? Maybe old beliefs, thoughts, positions, and practices need to be reconciled with what is good for the whole earth, its people, and its diversity. It could be that we need to be less inclined to preach the gospel of the good news and try to live it, thus setting an example of how to attain this kingdom on earth.

God will take care of the creating; we simply have to take care of making things ready. Spring seems an excellent time to start, and, given the state of the world these days, we won't be starting too soon. People and places desperately need help, and that help is needed now. Pray for peace and healing, but work like he** to bring it about.

 

Worrying about Worrying

When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.  --  Winston Churchill

I've been told many times over the course of my life not to worry. Worrying was a waste of time and with worry came frowning which left indelible tracks in your forehead. All the advice to the contrary, I still found myself a pretty addicted worry-er.  If it were a sunny day I'd worry about rain, even in places where rain was a relatively rare occurrence.  Honest to Pete, if there was even the remotest possibility that there was something that could/would go wrong, no matter how insignificant the thing or remote the possibility, I would work up a good worry about it. Sometimes the worry paid off, which is probably why I continued to do it for so long, but usually whatever it was either didn't become the disaster I'd imagined or was not, as Mama would say, worth the powder to blow it to heck (ok, she said another word, but Mama was often a very plain speaker).

It seems like worries multiply as we grow up. There doesn't seem to be a worry that doesn't seem to resolve itself. Where should we go to college?  What job should we try to find that fits our interests and our desired lifestyle? Where should we buy a house? How are the schools around where we want to live? Prices are going up, what if I get laid off or fired? Do I have enough savings to get me through retirement? Do I have enough insurance? How about Medicare? How much are my medications and possible hospitalizations going to cost? Who will pay my funeral costs? What kind of funeral do I want? Where do I want my final resting place be? The list could go on forever.

Like Churchill recounted, many of our worries will never happen. Our bills get paid every month, the house doesn't need major repairs, the appliances all work, the car is good for a few more years yet, the kids are grown and settled, our health is reasonably good for our age. Still, we will worry that it will rain the day of our outdoor barbecue (or palace garden party), Social Security will be axed (or cut), the party currently in power will pass some lame bill that will trespass on our particular religious, political views, or desires, and the country will go to he** in a handbasket. Sound familiar?

Currently we worry (or maybe not) about abortion rights, rising inflation, increasing shortages of necessary goods, racial or cultural issues and perceptions, where does one religion's rights begin and where does an opposing group's rights end. We worry about our safety whether from neighborhood gangs, radical groups, foreign squabbles that could escalate to wars that involve more than just two opposing sides, and so on. Not watching the news on TV or immersing ourselves in talk radio or media does help keep the worries somewhat at bay, but there are things we really need to know about, so where does that info come from? The church? The neighbors? The local news or TV station? What we overheard in passing at the mall, water cooler, or grocery checkout line?

For me, avoiding the news has helped, restricting myself to a few resources I find online. Another thing is using the Serenity Prayer ("God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...") is key. Remembering what it is I can do something about (like voting, supporting causes I believe in, or being a bit more choosy about what I share with others. I read books (generally nice British cozies, mysteries, or occasionally religious books that challenge my thinking), knit a lot (with prayers woven into the piece I'm making, and trying to anticipate what my fur-babies are going to yell at me about next. I'm careful where I put my feet (remembering breaking an ankle twice by stepping off the doorstep and onto a stray tennis ball), wiping up messes on the floor promptly, and taking my medications on time. I sit in my chair and rock often, which I find soothing and worry-releasing. Even when the wind blows, I can enjoy the sound of my wind chimes. It's all part of de-stressing and unpacking worries from my mind.

I remember Jesus's words about not worrying because if God takes care of the sparrow, God will surely take care of me. Granted, I may still break a hip or something else go wrong, but if I try to live as if I were the only living example of God's presence on earth, I would be believable. I don't worry about whether I will go to heaven (or the other direction), or will pass my final Christianity exam. I just trust that Jesus told the truth about God's watchfulness. 

Life is a lot easier without having to worry about a lot of worries. Trust in God, do your best, and work for freedom, justice, and equality for all. That's what Jesus would do.

Originally published on Episcopal Café as part of Episcopal Journal, Saturday, May 14, 2022.

The Importance of Tabitha

 Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. At that time she became ill and died.  When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, ‘Please come to us without delay.’ So Peter got up and went with them; and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs.  All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed.  He turned to the body and said, ‘Tabitha, get up.’ Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up.  Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord.   – Acts of the Apostles 9:36-42

We are once again in the throes of confusing and unsettling messes that threaten our lives, well-being, and security.  Dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic has been a strain on all of us globally.  Here in the United States, as in other countries, death, disability, grief, and anger have followed in the wake of the pandemic, which has not yet completely left us. 

 One thing that I hope has come out of the COVID-19 pandemic is the importance of community.  Looking at the destruction in Ukraine, not only of property and safety but the bonds of community between people who lived, worked, raised their families, prayed, and laughed together, we see what loss of community can mean.  In times of stress and loss, members of the community usually come together to support and console each other.  

This is how it was in Joppa when an older woman named Dorcas (Greek gazelle), also called Tabitha (Hebrew gazelle), died.  She was a well-known, respected, and loved member of her community, known for her good works and acts of charity.  She had been a female leader in the area, living an exemplary life in ways that reflected her faith and commitment to the teachings of Jesus.  It must have been a blow to the people who looked to her for guidance and assistance, much as we would feel at the death not only of a loved one but a person of high standing. 

Luckily, or more likely providentially, Peter the Disciple was in a town only about a dozen miles away from Joppa at the time.  Two men were sent to him with the news and the request for him to hurry.  They may not have known what Peter could do, but perhaps he could guide them through their time of grief.  When Peter arrived, he went to the upstairs room where Tabitha’s body lay, surrounded by the widows with whom she lived and worked.  Peter cleared the room and knelt to pray.

In words reminiscent of those spoken by Jesus to the daughter of Jarius (Mk. 5:41), Peter said, “Tabitha, get up.” He took her hand and, as she stood up, he showed her to the whole community.  Through this miracle, many new converts to the infant Christian movement came.  No doubt, the community rejoiced and thanked God for her restoration to them.

Tabitha was probably not a preacher, but we know she was influential because of the regard with which her circle of neighbors and fellow believers held her.  They loved and respected her because of the life she led rather than just her words.  This was the kind of life Jesus was getting at when he taught that his followers should love their neighbors, not just their friends, family, and fellow believers.  Tabitha’s example is one of a woman in a man’s world, teaching by doing and helping to bind the community together in peace.

Women in the Bible were generally an overlooked group unless they were mothers or wives.  We don’t even hear Tabitha’s story very often except in sequential Bible readings.  Stories like hers deserve more hearing to inspire both women and men to act as Jesus taught and Tabitha exemplified. 

 Who in our own communities are the Tabithas?  What do they show us?  How do they represent their faith in a clear, unequivocal way to those in need?  How can we foster more Tabithas?  How can we become one ourselves?

These are questions for us to consider.  The strength of our communities and our outreach depends on it. 

Knitting a Blessing

 For it was you who formed my inward parts;

    you knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

    Wonderful are your works;

that I know very well.  – Psalm 139:13-14

 

I taught myself to knit and crochet because I liked working with my hands and making things. I learned by starting to do each by making squares for afghans. Not for me was starting with potholders or dishcloths or the like. With me, it seemed to be to go big or go home. I knitted shawls and baby clothes for my son with my newfound knitting skills while I carried him. I knitted sweaters for him and his father. Then I put the needles away for a few decades.

I don't remember where I heard about prayer shawls, but it seemed great, primarily since my eyes wouldn't support the tiny cross stitches I so loved to do. I found a pattern and got some new needles, and off I went. I loved the colors and the soft boucle yarn, thinking of various people as I worked on each shawl. I didn't really know to who many of them would be given, but it didn't matter. It was the knitting that was important. By the time I left that church, I'd done about twenty-five shawls. I even made myself one out of the remnants of a number of them simply to remind me of them and their purposes.

I started knitting again a couple of years ago, making scarves for friends as gifts. It was good to work with my hands again, and the yarn aisles of the craft stores were like toy aisles for kids. With so many colors and textures, I started collecting the ones I liked and building up a stash so that I would never be short of yarn to knit. 

During the pandemic, a good friend was diagnosed with cancer. It reminded me of the shawls I'd knitted before, so I made her one. This one was an asymmetrical shawl, a kind I'd never tried before. Still, it suggested wrapping her in love and prayers, plus something a bit quirky, much like her bubbly personality. I had fun with it, and it started to set my feet again on the path of prayer shawls.

During this past Lent, I knit one a bright red in a trinity stitch. It went quickly, and I set it aside just in case. The need was there much sooner than I could have thought, and the shawl was ready. The love and prayers I knitted into it seemed to have come through to the person to whom it was given. I couldn't wait to start the next one.

Somehow I wished I had been born an octopus who could run the vacuum cleaner, dust, and knit simultaneously. Ok, that's silly since octopuses don't knit, but I wanted to work on the cloud gray shawl while starting the multicolored one simultaneously, and having more than one set of arms would undoubtedly help!

 I thought about the verse from Psalm 134 that talks about God having knit me together in my mother's womb. Even though the tie between my birth mother and me was severed early in my life, the knitting done inside her has held me together, so I feel like I am who and what I am supposed to be. Now I need to put love and prayer together with colors and patterns to help others feel whole, safe, cared for, and treasured. 

It's time to dig into my stash and my collection of needle sizes. I may know who will receive a shawl, but I will see that I have put time, effort, love, and prayers into it. I've also received peace, contentment, and serenity from the act of making it. It's a gift that keeps giving and reminds me that I am God's child. I want to share that feeling with those who need it, especially in illness, grief, stress, joy, celebration, or any of a thousand emotions. 

What a gift I have been given! Now back to the needles.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, April 30, 2022.

The Mockingbird and the Spirit

 Have you ever thought of what the world would be like without birds? Sure, there'd be fewer poop marks on your windshield (or shoulder), but there'd also probably be more bugs in your garden. There'd also be fewer sounds and songs during the day. There'd be no cheeps, chirps, or clicks as the birds say goodnight to the day and tuck their heads under their wings. We'd miss the flashes of color flitting and soaring from place to place. 

We would miss the coo of the doves and the squawks of blackbirds and ravens. Even the tiny, jewel-like hummingbird has a surprisingly loud chirp, almost sounding like a click. Of course, some birds are natural mimics, like parrots. I read an article the other day about a zoo that had to remove their parrots from public view because the birds had picked up some less than polite language from viewers who thought it funny to hear the birds use "fowl" language. Still, all in all, it would be a much duller, quieter world without birds in it.

It's now spring (in many places, anyway). Birds of all sorts are making nests of grass, twigs, lint from people's dryers, string, stray threads of knitting yarn, spider webs, and odd building materials. Following the nest making, males proclaim how secure, spacious, and splendiferous the nests are that they have built themselves in the hope of attracting females. Successful nest-owners lay eggs, hatch them, and then begin the seemingly neverending job of feeding voracious young who were apparently born with wide mouths and perpetually empty stomachs. It's fun to watch the parents feed their young, and it reminds us of our own experiences with hungry offspring. 

Our neighborhood has a lot of birds of various types – hummers, several varieties of doves, pigeons, a raptor or two on occasion, some songbirds, crows, and some rather pestilential mockingbirds. One, in particular, has chosen my neighbor's lemon tree again this year. It must be at least the third year because it seems to remember my outdoor cats, both relatively placid and showing interest only in a warm/cool place to sleep and a full bowl of kibble every morning. The mockingbird, however, seems to see anything within a fifty-foot radius of the lemon tree as its property, and by God, it is going to protect it from all comers – even human beings! It dive-bombs cats, cars, big trucks, bystanders, and even me when I go out. Never mind that I can't even see the tree in question, much less the nest with the chicks; I am a danger and must be repelled at all costs. Like my cats, I quickly retire to safety and hope the squawk will die down. 

I will say one thing for the neighborhood mockingbird – it is persistent. It has a job to do, and it will do it to the very best of its ability, even if it is dangerous or even foolhardy. 

I have no idea how the thought came into my mind, but I connected the persistence of the mockingbird with the Holy Spirit. It would probably be blasphemous, if not false, to say that the Spirit squawks, but she is definitely persistent. Her job is to guide the willing and the unwilling in the ways they should go, and if it takes a peck or two or even a close call with claws and wings, then that is what happens. 

I have been taught about and experienced the Spirit moving in my life and those of others. Usually, she comes quietly, like the fog that comes on little cat feet, as Carl Sandburg described it. I have known cats to stomp rather loudly occasionally, but I've also been surprised to turn around only to see a cat who wasn't there last time I looked and whom I did not hear when they approached. They never seem to do it just for the heck of it, but I can't always be sure. Most of the time, the cat has a purpose. So does the Spirit – only using different techniques, unlike the mockingbird who has only one. 

Maybe I should try to be as conscious of the Spirit as I am the annoying bird. Whether the Spirit is trying to move me away from something or toward something else, I need to pay attention. It's as simple–and as complicated—as that.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, April 23, 2022.

Holy Saturday and the Harrowing of Hell

 

On this Holy Saturday, the final day of Lent, let our faith be made stronger; let us be more assured that sin and death are conquered; let us know a little more of the light through the sometimes impenetrable shadows. Whether the Harrowing of Hell is literal or figurative, corporeal or spiritual, it has a message for all of us today: the highest response to evil is to free people from it. Let us rejoice that our Redeemer lives.*  – Archbishop Thomas Cranmer

Holy Saturday is a kind of catch-your-breath day between Maundy Thursday-Good Friday and the Easter Vigil. The morning of Holy Saturday is usually devoted to flower and Easter lily arrangements, polishing the pews, candlesticks, and Eucharistic vessels. With those tasks done, the church building is left pretty much alone for the rest of the day – at least until the Vigil service, which can be anywhere from late afternoon to after nightfall. I have also seen it done before Sunrise on Easter morning, with significant effect.

In the Apostle's Creed, we recite, "He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to the dead. On the third day he rose again. He ascended into heaven, and is seated on the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead." In Jewish teaching, burial in a grave was the body's resting place. Sheol, however, was where the soul rested after death, whether the person was good or evil. Different groups of Jews differ in their concept of heaven, hell, hades, Sheol, Gehenna, etc.

As Archbishop Cranmer said, we don't know whether the Harrowing of Hell is real, literal, corporal, spiritual, or figurative. What matters is that where there is evil, it is our job to set people free from it. Jesus did that with his resurrection, and we must try to do it before we pass into whatever God has planned for us.

Still, we have the words of the Creed that tell us that Jesus descended into hell or to the dead. Some believe that Jesus rescued pious and obedient people like the Patriarchs and prophets who had died before the birth of Jesus. That would make sense when pondering the second coming and the judgment to come then. I guess that to know for sure, we will have to wait.

Meanwhile, we prepare for the joy and triumph that is Easter. It's more than an explosion of flowers, new clothes and hats, baskets of candy, and hidden colored eggs. Jesus conquered death and promised the same for us.

Now that's reason to rejoice.

Happy Easter. Christos Anesti!

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, April 16, 2022.

Preparing for Holy Week and Beyond

 It's the Saturday before Holy Week, the most sacred yet busiest time of the church year. Churches are open for services almost every day, if not daily. The week builds up to the Paschal Triduum of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil. However, before all this takes place, there is Palm Sunday (the Sunday of the Passion). 

In the Episcopal Church, preparation for Palm Sunday means more work than just the usual cleaning of the church and setting up the altar and elements. There are palm crosses to be made by the dozen, each one composed of a strip of palm leaf carefully folded, twisted, wrapped, and tucked so that it holds the shape of a cross. New volunteers learn how to make the crosses each year, taught by those who have performed the act for years and sometimes decades. There should be an abundance of palm crosses, one for each person or family, that can be taken home and saved until the following year before Ash Wednesday. 

Palm Sunday is also called Palm/Passion Sunday because the usual gospel reading is frequently done with congregation members reading various lines spoken by the characters present in the various parts of the story. The story begins with Jesus riding into Jerusalem and works its way through the Holy Week stories of the Last Supper, Gethsemane, the arrest and trial of Jesus, his death, and burial featured in the services of the Triduum before the Easter Vigil itself.

The story of the Passion of Jesus is read on Palm Sunday as well as during Holy Week so that those who cannot participate in the weekday services, often held in the evening, can hear the story that precedes Easter Sunday. The Triduum climaxes with the Easter Vigil, a pre-Easter celebration that features passages of scripture that trace what is known as salvation history, beginning in Genesis, the story of the exodus, followed by prophetic messages found in the Hebrew Bible. 

Recently there has been controversy in the church about the reading of the Passion narrative. The translations of the gospels have an anti-semitic message that has become uncomfortable for congregants and clergy alike. The trial of Jesus, from the accusation to the scourging and ridicule he endured, lays blame on "the Jews," as if the entire Jewish nation called for his death. Many people still have not learned that Jesus was Jewish, as were his disciples and followers. Centuries of these translations have led to the belief that the Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus and the hatred of Jews because of this. 

When disaster strikes, a beloved leader is assassinated, a country is overrun, or churches battle each other, people want to have someone or some group to blame. The Jews, considered outsiders by Christian believers, served as the scapegoat for the crucifixion. Granted, some Jewish leaders at the time were very active in trying to silence Jesus for blasphemy. Because the example of his life and teachings went contrary to those of the temple, the powerful felt threatened, and so Jesus had to be removed. 

The memory of the Holocaust is still very much with us. With the drive for racial, cultural, and religious equality, it has become essential to attempt to view history with a more diverse eye. Just as we in America are trying to come to terms with the sins of slavery our ancestors have perpetrated on Africans, we also have to confront the wrongs we have done to our Native Americans, Oriental Americans, and Hispanics. We have to reconcile ourselves that until we live up to the statement in our Declaration of Independence that "...(A)ll men are created equal," then we aren't living up to our baptismal covenant, much less the example of Jesus's teaching and healing among the outcasts of his own culture and faith. 

This Palm Sunday, let us see if we are laying blame in the right places. Just as we are asked to reflect and converse with each other about our differences and how we can live together with respect, peace, and love of neighbors, let us stop and remember that painting with broad brushes when it comes to guilt or accusation is not what Jesus taught or expects us to do. May we view each other with charity, not hatred. 

Today as we prepare for Palm Sunday and Holy Week, may we reflect on what God wants us to do. God created the world with love, and let us work to bring that spirit of love back to it. 

Holy Week leads us to Easter. May we use that week to look past the pain and sorrow to the coming hope and glory that the resurrection builds in us. May we reaffirm our faith in that resurrection and all it means to us as Christians.

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, April 9, 2022.

Beach Flower

 

I've learned a lot in my journey from birth to my current point. I've learned to pay attention to things that catch my eye, what I see in books, and what I hear in lessons and conversations. I'm a lot better at it than I was a few decades ago, although I'll probably never catch everything I could. Still, I have learned to look for those little moments of joy that come with those sights and insights. 

The other day I came across a picture I had taken a couple of years ago on a trip to northwest Oregon. My friend and I had driven down the Columbia River to where it met the Pacific, then drove a few miles down the coast along the ocean. We parked the car and began walking on dunes with large patches of beach grass. In between the patches, the path was clear and generally headed in the direction of the water. Plants were growing in the sand that looked like scrub, and here and there were tiny bits of color. 

As I walked along, I saw a small plant surrounded by sand. It was all by itself, with bright green leaves and two tiny light-blue flowers. In the bright sunlight, it cast a dark shadow that contrasted with the colors of the plant and even the sand around it. Somehow that plant caught my attention for several minutes. I'm glad I had that picture to remind me of it.

I thought about what that plant represented to me. It grew in an empty space, with no competition for what water it could reach. Its aloneness was its safety net and its lifeline. Like a hermit or anchorite, it reminded me that aloneness wasn't always a bad thing. In fact, I've found that it soothes me to have a frequently solitary lifestyle rather than being out in crowds, which makes me anxious and a bit fearful. The little plant bloomed where it was, seeking no one's opinions or admiration. It was what it was, and that was all it needed to be.

The presence of the shadow in such stark contrast reminded me that there are always shadows in life, dark places that happen but which will fade as the sun moves and finally sets. Even darkness in terms of nighttime can be a period of rest, calm, and reflection. The plant's shadow also reminded me of Psalm 23:4, "Yea, though I walk through the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." I know death is inevitable, whether it is a friend, a plant, or even myself. The Psalmist reminds me that I shouldn't be afraid of dying because I trust that God will take care of me. 

The tiny blue flowers may not have a theology, but they seemed to be praising God for their being, the gift of water, shelter from the wind, and sunshine. It reminds me that I should be doing the same thing far more often than currently. It is also a reminder that all of creation is from God and that I should work harder at trying to help fix all the things for which humankind has messed up, broken, or destroyed. I can't do it by myself, but I can help others. Jesus told us to love others and care for others to bring God's kingdom to earth. 

The more I look at the picture of the little plant, the more I remember, like the smell of the salt water, the gentle breeze, the bright blue water reflecting the cloudless blue sky, the crunch of sand under my feet, and the warmth of the sun. I remember the companionship of my friend and our mutual enjoyment of being together as we listened to the waves breaking gently onto the shore. I don't know if she remembers the little plant, but I will remember it for her. It was an essential part of a beautiful day and a true gift of God's love. 

It is also a reminder that I need to be aware of tiny things around me. They, too, could bring me joy and insights. It is a part of my belief system and essential to my soul's health. 

Originally published at Speaking to the Soul on Episcopal Café, Saturday, April 2, 2022.