Whenever times are difficult I use the image of a little boat. I have a little boat and it can only carry so much. It can carry me, my little family, my healing or my grieving. It can carry the pain of another. It can’t hold guilt, or excessive responsibility, or stupid stuff. I share this image often, so often that I keep little boats to share with people. Recently a friend said she has the image of all of us in our little boats, sometimes we come alongside each other and encourage each other, sometimes we are alone.

This week I take my little boat to Annual Conference where all of the rest of the little boats, and bigger ones, will gather. This week I will listen to ordinary things like budgets and extraordinary things like giving birth to a new Methodist movement. My boat holds grace, hope, and some grief. Maybe it will get a bit bigger to hold something more. What I know is that my boat, all of our boats, are held on the sea of God’s grace.

Blessings,

Cynthia

Weary, a colleague said, I’m weary.  Her mother is in the hospital, her nephew was murdered in Pennsylvania. And you could see it in her face and in her body, hunched into itself.

Weary is such a rich word, it feels like more than tired like you’re carrying something so heavy like it is in your bones. That is why they hymn Precious Lord is so lovely – Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, help me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn..

We can be weary because of our bodies or our spirits, because of circumstances internal and external. Sometimes we are weary and in those times I believe that Jesus takes our hands, leads us, helps us to stand, or maybe just holds us.

Blessings,

Cynthia

Yesterday, on Whidby Island in Washington State, was the celebration of life for my friend Gina Marie. She wrote a book called Camino Divina about holy walking so at 3:00 on Whidby Island, 6:00 in Arlington, I walked in the rain in memory and gratitude for her life. While I walked close to Spy Pond, a friend walked the deck of her riverboat on the Rhine, another walked in the South of France, another in Oregon. We were all connected in love, memory, and action.

That’s how prayer works. It doesn’t always happen with our feet, sometimes it is just our hearts and minds, but it connects us across time and space to each other and to God.

Yesterday I gave thanks for the life of Gina. As I walked down the block I saw a little bit of sparkle, when I picked it up it was a holy medal of Mary. I think it was a message across time and space from Gina Marie.

Blessings,

Cynthia

I am at the Festival of Homiletics in Minneapolis, a gathering of 1,600 pastors from around the country and the globe, listening to and learning about preaching. The days are full. We meet in two different sanctuaries just a few blocks apart. The weather has been beautiful. It is wonderful to meet colleagues, old and new. I even found an old seminary classmate! It is wonderful to have time to really think about preaching, in this case, prophetic preaching.

I am staying with my college roommate, Diane. I haven’t seen her in 15 years. My need to connect with her felt more urgent as dear friends of mine have died. We have spent time walking with her two large German Shepherds and talking.

This has been a time of grounding, not so much in history but in relationship. This has been a time of learning and looking forward. I have had conversations with our Bishop and with UMs from around the country about our future. I have paid attention to the rustles and wrestles in my heart. It is good to be grounded in the past. It is important to be launched into the future.

Blessings,

Cynthia

For those of you unfamiliar with the game show, contestants compete in two rounds of six categories each. The clues in said categories are worth set amounts of money. The more difficult the clue, the more money the contestant will receive for giving the correct response. Contestants take turns choosing categories and offering answers in the form of a question. There are three clues in the entire game that contain Daily Doubles. If a contestant unveils a Daily Double, they are able to wager some or all of their winnings for a chance to receive more money.

James Holzhauer is described during the introduction to the show as a professional sports gambler. It seems putting in all the chips is a strategy with which he is familiar. While most Jeopardy players take a more reserved stance and tend to slowly build up their winnings throughout the game, Holzhauer sets his sights on doubling his money every chance he gets. He doesn’t seem to be nervous. He doesn’t hold back. He goes all in, all the time. Holzhauer’s winning streak is not mere luck. He has a vast, seemingly infinite, knowledge base when it comes to trivia. He has entered this popular game show fully prepared.

At Calvary, we’ve introduced the important issue of Climate Change to our Sunday School classes. I’m certain most if not all people who attend Calvary recycle, bring reusable mugs to the coffee shop instead of purchasing a paper cup, stay informed of changing weather patterns, etc. I suspect many of us acknowledge the threat of climate change. I believe we mourn for the members of God’s creation that are extinct and worry about those who are endangered. I believe we have great intentions and we’re pacing ourselves with environmentally conscious methods that fit within our schedules. I also believe we are up against a deadline and our opponent is playing aggressively, altering the earth’s climate as we slowly fill our recycling bins.

I’m a fan of post-apocalyptic science fiction, but I don’t want to see my favorite movies and books become reality. Since the Sunday after Easter and continuing through June 2nd, the children in our Sunday School program are connecting our faith to this environmental obstacle we face leading up to a chance for all of us to really challenge ourselves in how we live and how we affect the life of this planet. I hope to see all of you in the fellowship hall on June 9th as we host a Renewal Fair, a chance for all of us to learn ways in which we can take conserving God’s creation to the next level. I hope we continue to recycle, continue to bring reusable mugs to coffee shops, and continue to prepare ourselves with knowledge that rivals James Holzhauer. I also hope we can take the bull by the horns and decide to play a little more aggressively.

There was another shooting, this time at a university. Last week it was a synagogue. We have lost count. We can’t name every place where there has been a shooting of more than one person and we certainly can’t name all the individuals affected by gun violence. Our minds and hearts and spirits are numbed.

There has been more hate speech, on the television, radio, social media. Our minds and hearts and spirits are numbed.

June Jordan wrote a poem, For South African Women, that ends with the lines,

And who will join this standing up
and the ones who stood without sweet company
will sing and sing
back into the mountains and
if necessary
even under the sea:

we are the ones we have been waiting for.

We can’t stay numb. We must do something. We are the ones who need to sing, to stand, to work for peace, to offer love. We are the ones we have been waiting for. If we don’t do the work, even our little bit, it won’t get done. That is what it means to live a resurrection life. May we do it. May we be it.

Blessings,

Cynthia

I’m going to rule out the zombie theory right away because of one simple fact: the Gospels are pretty clear that Jesus craved bread, wine, figs, and fish… not brains.

The idea of one’s soul traveling to Purgatory and then Hell if one has led a mischievous life bothers me because 1) that concept got spread around long after Jesus was teaching peace and love in the Middle East (thanks, Dante!) and 2) whatever doubts or questions I have about God, I remain steadfast in believing God is altruistic, certainly not an angry old white man with a white beard proclaiming damnation because he didn’t get his way in the morality game.

The other side of the life after death coin is Heaven. Do I believe one’s soul travels to paradise after death? I simply don’t know. I would like to think that my dead grandparents, dead uncle, dead aunt, and dead dog exist in a utopian plane of happiness. However, if I spend my life worried about doing enough good deeds to gain entrance into this paradise, my deceased relatives would grieve over a life that wasn’t worth living, an experience that would deny me my humanity.

My view of resurrection is part of a bigger picture. Jesus lived in a society that viewed violence as the best method to keep everyone in line. On Palm Sunday, Jesus enters Jerusalem peacefully on a donkey. Occupying Roman soldiers, well-equipped, disciplined killers, had entered the same city as a marching military unit. Their intention was to be seen as a threat to any dissension. Jesus was executed because some called him the king of the Jews, a loud and clear portrayal of dissent. The teachings of Jesus were also a dissension in that those teachings of peace threatened the authority figures whose method of control was violence.  If violence is the means by which you keep order, death is the ace in your hand. Death is the ultimate threat, the permanent consequence, the threshold from which there is no turning back.

When I hear the story of Jesus’ resurrection, I am reminded that every act of violence, be it from terrorist tactics rooted in bigotry, national leaders who place coin above compassion, or even a vote to exclude people, can be turned around. I am reminded that death does not stop an ideal nor does it silence the voices that cry out for justice. For me, resurrection is a clarion call that echoes through every broken bridge and broken body three words: here, now, forward.

Happy Easter!

Ryan

This week Notre Dame burned and people gathered outside and sang hymns, people around the world watched and shared photos from their visits. It struck me and others, not just because it’s a building but because it is a place where people have gathered, where significant moments have been shared because it was beautiful and symbolic.

That same day the Al Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem burned. The fire was smaller and was contained but it was also in a sacred space where people have gathered to pray from all over the world.

Last week three African American churches in Louisiana were burned, not by accident but by hatred. They were sacred places where the community gathered and was strengthened, sacred places where people prayed and sang.

This week we remember Jesus giving up his body which he referred to as a temple. We remember that he offered up what had been a center of prayer and healing and prophetic teaching. We believe that in that offering he was given new life, he was resurrected.

Money has already been raised to rebuild the churches in Louisiana, money has been pledged to rebuild Notre Dame, the Al Aqsa Mosque has been cleaned up. In the meanwhile, in this holy week, we sit in the ashes. In the meanwhile, we are aware of other places, sacred places that have been destroyed. In the meanwhile, we wait and work for new life, resurrection.

Blessings,

Cynthia

Yesterday, on the streets of Boston these petals were scattered outside a florist shop. I don’t think they were a mistake, I think they were an enticement. They were a little bit of color on a grey day. They were a little bit of beauty on a busy sidewalk. They were a little bit of joy.

Last Sunday afternoon a group of folk from Arlington and beyond gathered on the Magnolia playground to reclaim the park for play and joy from hateful graffiti. As we talked about our hopes for a safe, accepting, and welcoming community kids rode scooters and ran and blew bubbles. It was a scattering of joy.

It doesn’t take much, this scattering of joy, of love, of hope, all it takes is a moment of intentionality, a smile, a nod, a shared moment of connection. Living the best of our faith is scattering things that bring life, that bring wholeness, that offer just a moment of grace in a grey world.

Blessings,

Cynthia

Finding my way isn’t the only thing my phone can do. My pocket sized device also comes with a to do list to remind me of the tasks I need to accomplish before and after allotting time to reconnect with an old friend. My tiny little computer has a calendar that sends me reminders to be here at this time and there at that time and it tends to yell at me in strange electronic noises if I forget. My Facebook app lets me know every time someone shares an important political article or every time someone shares a photo of their dinner so I can adequately provide an opinion based on a thumbs up, heart, laughing face, surprised face, crying face, or angry face. My weather app lets me know the slightest change in barometric pressure. My podcast app informs me of every new episode of every podcast in which I have an interest (including ones that are labeled “podcasts you MIGHT be interested in”). My phone is my most useful organizational tool… and it’s also a set of prison bars preventing me from experiencing the live action, real world around me.

As I’m sitting across a small square table from my aforementioned friend, I hear him talk about his new job, the health of his parents, the birth of his daughter, his partner, their travels, their joys, their concerns, but my focus and intent to reconnect is interrupted by dings, beeps, blips, chimes, tweets, pokes, and, even if my phone is on silent, the persistent thoughts that remind me of the to do list, the appointments, the bills, the unread emails, the unanswered voicemails, and all the little minions that spoil your chance to stand still and take in life: the present moment and people around you.

Lent might be the season in the Church calendar that is the closest to some forms of Eastern ways of thinking. Buddhist teachings warn us of the consequences of attaching ourselves to the things that cause suffering, to things that are impermanent. Daoism teaches us that life is flowing, ever changing, always striving toward a balance. If our eyes and ears and focus are all glued to the technological ramblings of a product designed to convince us that we need this toy in order to succeed in our occupational and social lives, perhaps it’s time we learned about the off button in order to gain a sense of balance. Lent is a season of introspection, wandering, stepping back to gain a broader view, and, most importantly, ensuring our path leads us where we want to be. During Lent, we give up the things we believe we use in excess, and we take on the things that promote holiness, a separation from the mundane and the hurtful and the life draining, in order to reconnect with God. Our journey ends, and really begins, on Easter Sunday when we realize and acknowledge that we are not what our vices and devices dictate us to be. I don’t know if Jesus would tweet his Sermon on the Mount or tag certain people in his parables. I don’t know if he would Instagram all the fish and bread that fed a crowd of thousands. What I do know is that Jesus stopped for the sick, for the confused, for the outcast, and for the curious. He stopped everything he was doing, and he stopped often, for anyone on the fringes, anyone in need, anyone seeking guidance on their own wandering paths. As someone working in Christian Education, what can I teach during Lent? Put your phone down. Allow yourself to wander a little. You might discover a way to connect with another wandering soul.