Speaking to the Soul

Little Things

2013-05-22T12:48:20Z

Wednesday, May 22, 2013 -- Week of Proper 2, Year One

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/ for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Today's Readings for the Daily Office
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 966)
Psalms 119:1-24 (morning) // 12, 13, 14 (evening
Ruth 2:14-23
1 Timothy 3:1-16
Luke 13:18-30

The kingdom of God "is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches." (Luke 13:19)

The kingdom of God "is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened." (Luke 13:21)

Little things can make a big difference. Small beginnings can produce large results. Both for good and for bad.

The parable of the mustard seed is an encouraging image. It reminds us that though we may seem to be small or weak or insignificant, God uses the "mustard seed" to great effect. Small courtesies, little actions of virtue may be the springs of significant goodness. The Rule of St. Benedict speaks of the importance of "little courtesies" within the community.

The parable of the yeast is a more ambiguous and perplexing message. In the scripture, yeast is almost always a negative metaphor -- a symbol for corruption or sin or evil. Leaven or yeast is old, fermented dough. It only takes a little yeast to leaven the entire measure of flour. Before the Passover the people of Israel were commanded to remove all yeast from the household. Jesus warned of the yeast of Herod and of the Pharisees. Little corruptions, white lies, small indulgences and selfish habits can have great negative impacts.

What are the little habits that corrupt and break down health and relationships?

What are the little courtesies that build up and heal the whole creation?

These little things matter.

Naomi's Bitterness

2013-05-21T12:42:39Z

Tuesday, May 21, 2013 -- Week of Proper 2, Year One
John Eliot, Missionary among the Algonquin, 1690

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/ for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Today's Readings for the Daily Office
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 966)
Psalms 5, 6 (morning) // 10, 11 (evening
Ruth 1:19 - 2:13
1 Timothy 1:18 - 2:8
Luke 13:10-17

The now childless widow Naomi, without prospects for survival, leaves the home in Edom that had shielded her from an earlier famine in her native Bethlehem. She returns now to Bethlehem, grieved and without support, hoping to find some welcome in her former village. The women of the town ask, "Is this Naomi?" She answers:

"Call me no longer Naomi, (the name means 'Pleasant')
call me Mara, ('Bitter')
for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.
I went away full,
but the Lord has brought me back empty;
why call me Naomi
when the Lord has dealt harshly with me,
and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me?" Ruth 1:20-21

This morning we rise with prayer in our hearts for those affected by the terrible tornadoes yesterday and last night. There are many who have cried bitterly at their loss. The death toll rises. Many helplessly cry in God's name.

Our prayers join with them. We remember the first responders and ask God's strength for them. We anticipate and begin to lay the foundation for sending helpers, as we did for our neighbors in Joplin so recently. We give thanks for the Red Cross, the National Guard, and for our governmental disaster and emergency programs. Maybe we make a contribution to Red Cross, and to Episcopal Relief and Development which is already in motion. Maybe we even think with some gladness about whatever we paid in taxes on April 15 for the underwriting of police, firefighters, FEMA and the other structures by which we respond corporately to disaster.

And we take our concerns to God.

One of the themes of the story of Ruth is that God works quietly behind the scenes for our good, and that God joins our hard efforts with divine blessing and support.

Naomi's widowed daughter-in-law, the Moabite Ruth, offers to go into the grain fields to glean among the ears of grain missed by the harvesters. By chance, it seems, she ends up in the field of Boaz, a relative of her late husband. By chance, it seems, Boaz notices her. His servants have noticed her also, how hard she has worked, "on her feet from early this morning until now, without resting even for a moment." Boaz offers her protection and the familial privileges of sharing water, and (we will read tomorrow) the common meal among the harvesters.

From bitter tragedy -- the death of Naomi's husband and her two sons -- God is weaving a new story. Out of this story will come the ancestors of David, a descendant of Boaz and the Moabite widow Ruth.

Today we pray with hope that God is behind the scenes even now, quietly bringing resurrection and restoration to those who have met so bitterly with disaster. We also embrace the hard work that faces those families and communities. And we recognize our kinship with them, embracing our part of the recovery effort. If God is to work effectively to help them rebuild their lives and communities, we as neighbors will have to join and incarnate God's efforts among them.

O merciful Father, who hast taught us in thy holy Word that thou dost not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men: Look with pity upon the sorrows of thy servants for whom our prayers are offered. Remember them, O Lord, in mercy, nourish their souls with patience, comfort them with a sense of thy goodness, lift up thy countenance upon them, and give them peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
For a Person in Trouble or Bereavement
Book of Common Prayer, p. 831

Alcuin and the Collect for Purity

2013-05-20T12:58:53Z

Monday, May 20, 2013 -- Week of Proper 2, Year One
Alcuin, Deacon, and Abbot of Tours, 804

[Go to http://www.missionstclare.com/english/index.html for an online version of the Daily Office including today's scripture readings.]

Today's Readings for the Daily Office
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 966)
Psalms 1, 2, 3 (morning) // 4, 7 (evening
Ruth 1:1-18
1 Timothy 1:1-17
Luke 13:1-9

Today is the feast of Alcuin, one of the luminaries of the great Carolingian Renaissance initiated under the reign of Charlemagne, who invited Alcuin from his home in York to serve the intellectual revival in Europe. Alcuin was called "The most learned man anywhere to be found." He was responsible for the collection and preservation of much ancient knowledge, including poetry, literature, liturgical texts, and mathematical treatises -- both from Christian and from pagan sources. It is thought that he invented a form of cursive writing to speed up the copying of manuscripts. And he is credited with convincing Charlemagne to cease forcing non-Christians to be baptized or face death. "Faith is a free act of the will, not a forced act. We must appeal to the conscience, not compel it by violence. You can force people to be baptised, but you cannot force them to believe," Alcuin is said to have told Charlemagne. In 797 Charlemagne abolished the death penalty for paganism.

Alcuin helped reform the liturgy and worship and the church, collecting many service books and adapting them into a more universal form of worship. Many of the prayers that grace our liturgy and inform our devotion were preserved thanks to Alciuin's scholarship and leadership.

Among the ancient texts passed down to us from Alcuin is the Collect for Purity which our Book of Common Prayer places at the beginning of the Holy Eucharist. In earlier times, it was a prayer used by clergy for their preparation before worship. But it was a prayer too good to be kept in the sacristy, and became part of our common worship in Anglican tradition.

Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord.

The Collect for Purity seems an excellent opening for any time of prayer or worship. It beautifully sets the context for our conscious visitation with God, and invites us into prayer.

First, we acknowledge that we are known. Our hearts and desires and secrets are open and visible to God. We come as we are, without pretense.

Then we ask the Holy Spirit to cleanse and inspire us.

Finally, we turn in love and praise to God.

I know of few better ways to begin an offering of prayer. I like to offer the Collect for Purity in a process of three breaths. The Three Breaths Prayer invites us to lay aside the past, to be present here and now, and to anticipate what will happen in the upcoming period of prayer or work or learning. As a preparation for prayer, combining the Three Breaths Prayer with the Collect for Purity seems very helpful to me.

First Breath -- being known in God's presence, I lay aside everything that has gone before: Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.

Second Breath -- being present, here and now, with God: Cleanse the thoughts of my heart by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

Third Breath -- anticipate what will happen in the upcoming period of prayer: that I may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord.

Today as we begin the long "ordinary time" after Pentecost Sunday, this Collect invites God's Holy Spirit to breathe us into being, to inspire us toward love and praise. It is a good prayer to start a new season, a new week, a new day, a new moment. (With gratitude to Alcuin for his gift passed down to us.)

Pentecost and pair o' cleats

2013-05-19T08:04:35Z

Psalm 118 (Morning)
Psalm 145 (Evening)
Isaiah 11:1-9
1 Corinthians 2:1-13
John 14:21-29

The Koine Greek word used for "advocate" in our reading today is paraclete, literally, "one who is called to someone's side."

Here's an embarrassing childhood confession: The first time I heard the word "paraclete" used in a sermon, I thought the preacher was saying "pair o' cleats." I kept thinking, "Why's Jesus talking about cleats? Baseball and football hadn't been invented yet!"

The word "advocate" for us, in the 21st century, has actually taken on a legal overtone in some ways. Our relationship with our attorney as an advocate implies that the attorney fights for us against someone or something else. Courts appoint advocates to minors to fight for their rights in a complex legal system. Patient advocates act as protectors of patient welfare in a medical system that can suck a person down into a perverse rabbit hole where everyone is only a number and a statistic.

In short, we've come to see the word "advocate" as one that carries with it the potential for an adversarial relationship with our unseen or unknown enemies.

Actually, trying to discern the original meaning of paraclete isn't as easy as it looks. It seems to be, as best as I understand it, a word that was mostly used by Jewish Greek-speakers than it was non-Jewish Greek speakers. It seems to refer to a helper in something of a greater good, and in some instances, a slave called in for help. Some authors believe it was a way of Hellenizing the Hebrew word "Menahem," or "comforter."

Well, as it turns out, my childhood notion of a pair of cleats, perhaps, isn't so crazy in adding to the meaning of the word "advocate" in a fuller sense.

I remember the first time I was old enough to play softball in cleats. Actually, if one has ever coached kids, it's a hoot to watch kids in cleats for the first time. Wearing cleats is a foreign sensation. It requires lifting one's feet a little higher than one is used to doing, or the end result is suddenly finding oneself in a horizontal position on the ground. Kids in cleats for the first time look like a bunch of chickens walking around with exaggerated upward steps.

It doesn't take long, though, for the wearer to intuitively realize that there are advantages to hugging the earth a little more tightly. I remember that suddenly I realized I could put more "zip" on a throw by trusting my back foot to hold more securely. I could leap at fly balls with a little more effort. I could turn and adjust to grounders a little quicker. I could round the bases a little tighter, and yes, even slide toward a fielder's legs and hope she backed off of me or dropped the ball.

Yet the fact is, those cleats don't do a thing in their own right but connect the wearer to the ground. Most of the changes occur in the person wearing the cleats. The wearer learns how to be a better ballplayer through them.

I suspect it's no different with our Paraclete, the Holy Spirit. She connects us to the ground of our being, and when we feel more connected, we become free to move a little more quickly, round the corners of the basepaths of our life a little more tightly, and try to turn a little sharper and jump a little higher than we would have if we only could trust in ourselves, with no help.

When have you sensed, in your life, that the Paraclete truly has been a pair-o-cleats?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Cornerstones

2013-05-18T08:07:03Z

Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. For it stands in scripture:
‘See, I am laying in Zion a stone,
a cornerstone chosen and precious;
and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.’
To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe,
‘The stone that the builders rejected
has become the very head of the corner’,
and
‘A stone that makes them stumble,
and a rock that makes them fall.’
They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do.
But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,* in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.
Once you were not a people,
but now you are God’s people;
once you had not received mercy,
but now you have received mercy. -- 1 Peter 2:4-10

Reading the passage this morning, my brain suddenly began playing a favorite hymn of mine, "Christ Is Made the Sure Foundation." Reading the scripture accompanied by the tune in my head laid some emphasis on both and their interconnectedness.

Christ is made the sure foundation,
Christ the head and cornerstone,
chosen of the Lord, and precious,
binding all the Church in one;
holy Zion's help for ever,
and her confidence alone.*

There are two definition of cornerstone. One is a stone that forms the base of the intersection of two walls of a building. Often it is a decorative as well as functional part of the building, often carrying some mark such as the date the cornerstone was laid or some other commemoration. It is sometimes used to mark the official beginning of construction even though the foundations may have been poured days, weeks or months before. It's a visible sign of hope and progress.

The second definition is a bit more abstract, giving "cornerstone" as a feature or quality upon which something is based, like a thesis statement or creed. This epistle, whether written by Peter, an amanuensis or even someone not so closely related to Peter, used the imagery already established in Psalm 118:22 and also in Acts 4:11. The metaphor of a rejected piece of stone being chosen as the very thing upon which the building stands is a perfect one for Jesus, even though the Psalm wasn’t itself directly or indirectly referencing him. It is through him, however, that the church is built even though he was rejected by many of his fellow Jews and definitely by the Romans during his lifetime. We also know that as Christians, Jesus has to be the cornerstone of our faith and even though the cornerstone is strong is up to us to make the building of our faith match that strength.

Earlier this week we had a reading from Hebrews that referenced the priesthood of Melchizedek, a non-Israelite King who acted as a priest in the story of Abraham. The author of this epistle seemed to also pick up on the priesthood theme in the statement, “chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s chosen people.” Unlike the Levitical priesthood of Judaism, the priesthood of those who follow Christ includes the whole of the people, not just a single tribes set apart or a heretical hierarchy of priests. Again, building on the cornerstone image, the priesthood of the entire church is given through Jesus to all people. Yes, we did develop a sacramental priesthood just as we developed a role for deacons when the need arose. Still, all Christians are priests by virtue of their baptism and that baptism is the laying of the cornerstone of Christ in each Christian’s life.

All that dedicated city,
dearly loved of God on high,
in exultant jubilation
pours perpetual melody;
God the One in Three adoring
in glad hymns eternally.

To this temple, where we call thee,
come, O Lord of Hosts, today;
with thy wonted loving-kindness
hear thy servants as they pray,
and thy fullest benediction
shed within its walls alway.

Here vouchsafe to all thy servants
what they ask of thee to gain;
what they gain from thee, for ever
with the blessèd to retain,
and hereafter in thy glory
evermore with thee to reign.

Somehow, I think that when I sing this hymn again or hear it again, I’ll have a slightly different perspective of what it has to say. It’s an invitation for God to enter the building of faith we construct in our own lives as well as the physical buildings in which we worship. It’s a request for God’s continual presence and blessing both in this life and in the world to come.

The cornerstone. Without it the building would not be a building and the Christian life would be like a tent blowing in the wind. Without Jesus as the focus and , faith would be just as flimsy

You know, I think I like this hymn even better now.

*Hymnal 1982, New York: The Church Hymnal Corporation, (518).

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Do you love me?

2013-05-17T08:07:33Z

John 21:15-19
In this morning’s gospel, Christ’s time on earth is rapidly running out. He has much to do and little time to do it. He knows that he’s leaving very extraordinary things to be done by some very ordinary people. And what are those ordinary people doing? They’re out fishing. It’s what they know best.

Jesus makes a humble, but very powerful entrance. Like any casual passerby, he asks how the fishing is going. And when they tell him they’ve caught nothing, he tells them exactly where to find the fish. They do what he tells them and they are swamped with fish. And at that moment they recognize the helpful stranger with nature at his command. It is the risen Christ.

What better way to get a fisherman’s attention, than to tip him off on how to land a bumper catch? Jesus does and they do. And now that he’s broken the ice, Jesus gets down to business. Job one is to get Peter back on the leadership track. Back when the going got tough, Peter had denied Jesus three times. Now Jesus gives him three chances to make amends. The symmetry of Peter’s denials and subsequent affirmations of faith is striking. It tells us that God knows us and loves us in our frailty. Peter betrayed Jesus at the worst possible moment. And here is Jesus talking love and living love in its purest form…he forgives and forgives and forgives.

The exchange between Jesus and Peter is a masterpiece of economical communication. Jesus succinctly poses the irreducible question that frames the relationship between God and man: Do you love me? Before we can address the question, we must consider: What does loving God mean? Cui bono? Who benefits if and when we love God?

All creation benefits from our love of God. But we benefit the most, directly proportional to our love. Loving God produces what economists would call a Virtuous Circle: a beneficial chain of events that reinforce each other, with each event passing positive benefits on to the next in a closed cycle that continuously strengthens each link of the chain and consequently the chain itself. The Virtuous Circle of love breaks the Vicious Circle of self-absorption, pride and the pathologies of vice that feed on it.
In this dialog, the always passionate Peter responds with heartfelt protestations of love; while Jesus serenely poses both questions and answers. As Jesus has told us, God is the embodiment of love: God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. (John 4:16b) Jesus is not looking for lip-service love. The Good Shepherd tells Peter: Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Dietrich Bonhoeffer expanded on these imperatives, saying: “To abide in love means to have open eyes, to be able to see things that only a few can see, namely the begging outstretched hands (and) to help (them), using everything one has.”

This Easter time Jesus asks us again: Do you love me? He’s not looking for artful expressions of devotion. He wants our love to answer him, not our words. In kindness, in caring, in generosity, in patience, in forgiveness, let’s feed his lambs, tend his sheep and rejoice in the love of the risen Christ. Alleluia!

Committed to a vocation that focuses on encountering God in the midst of everyday life, the Rev. David Sellery serves as an Episcopal priest that seeks to proclaim the good news of God in Christ in worship, pastoral care, education, stewardship, and congregational growth.

Who is my neighbor?

2013-05-16T08:04:08Z

Luke 10:25-37

Our Gospel reading for the day is the story of the Good Samaritan, the most well known of Jesus’ tales. I myself have heard it dozens of times. It’s the response to the question, “Who is the neighbor I am to love as I love myself?”

Over the years I’ve pondered different aspects of the story. Today what has occurred to me is that Jesus and his little band of followers were homeless people. This got me to thinking. I asked myself, what would this story sound like if it were told by one of our street people? Here’s a guess:

A man who had something worth stealing was robbed, beaten and left half dead in a gutter. People walked by pretending not to see him. No surprise there; when you fall down you become invisible until the police come along, right? But some foreigner who didn’t even speak proper English saw him and personally helped him out. This guy got right down on his knees in the gutter, gave the guy first aid, got him to the hospital, stayed with him there, and after that found and paid for a motel room for him until he was all recovered. The foreigner didn’t want anything in return – wasn’t selling Jesus or wanting sex or anything at all. He just did it.

Who is my neighbor? The person who sees me when I’m in trouble. The one who notices me in my distress and puts his heart into helping me out, out of compassion alone.

In line at the grocery store, a woman up ahead wound up with more groceries than she could pay for. Totally ashamed, she started to set aside a few things to put back on the shelf. The man behind her had noticed and said, “I’ll pay for those.” I don’t know what gave her the grace to accept his offer. She thanked him tearfully, and he said, “I may need the same some day.”

A friend of mine noticed a woman who was ahead of her at the ATM machine return to her car empty handed, weeping. My friend walked up, knocked on the window of the car, and gave the woman $20.

Observing that water is an issue for people in other parts of the world, we might think about wastage in our own water use and make personal changes. Noticing that we are a country that uses far more than our fair share of the world’s resources, we might begin personally to use far less. Witnessing that people need certain services in order to lead fulfilling lives, we might lend a hand in providing them. Spotting injustice we might work to change laws or policies in government or agencies.

When we are in trouble we want the person who sees what is there to be seen and then responds whole heartedly. That’s our neighbor. May we each be given the grace to go and do likewise.

Laurie Gudim is a religious iconographer and liturgical artist, a writer and lay preacher living in Fort Collins, CO. See her work online at Everyday Mysteries With others she manages a website for the Diocese of Colorado highlighting congregations' creative ministries: Fresh Expressions Colorado

A different kind of priest

2013-05-15T08:08:24Z

Hebrews 7:1-17

Melchizedek is an unusual character who appears without fanfare. He was not an Israelite yet he worshipped God rather than the many gods of the people of the area. This "king of righteousness" was outside the normal priestly line which was passed from father to son among the Israelites but he still acted as a priest in blessing Abraham and accepting Abraham's tithe of the booty acquired from those who had been overcome in battle. Then Melchizedek just fades from the scene as quietly as he arrived, yet leaving a lasting impact on not just Abraham but on the priesthood and the very concept of priesthood itself.

Today we usually we think of a priest as someone set apart, a person who has been ordained in a particular "line" going back to the apostles which we call the apostolic succession. We think of a priest as a person who conducts worship, accepts gifts offered to God and blesses the people through not just the act of blessing itself but through the sacramental rites which priests perform like baptism and Eucharist. They also have duties such as running a church, teaching, preaching, visiting the sick and a whole list of other duties we consider to be the province of the clergy even though some of that can legitimately be done by the laity. Somehow priests are different, not like ordinary people, even though they do put their pants (and trousers) on one leg at a time, just like everybody else. When priests get in trouble it’s often more upsetting than if the person had been a banker, a doctor, or even a teacher. It’s that chrism of ordination that makes them special, sets them apart and calls them to a higher standard. When that chrism fails, it isn’t just our faith in priests that is shaken; sometimes it is our faith in the church or even in a God who would allow a person dedicated to God’s service to behave in such an unthinkable way.

We sometimes refer to Jesus as our great high priest yet he was not an official priest. He was not ordained, a member of the tribe of Levi, the tribe chosen at the time of Moses to be the religious leaders, or a kohanin, a Levite and a direct descendant of Aaron. Jesus was outside that hereditary priesthood yet he had a priesthood of his own, a ministry of teaching, preaching, healing and blessing. But even though Jesus was the Son of God, he was still very human and, as such, he opened something for us that Luther and other reformers would later call the “Priesthood of All Believers,” the specialness of all of us baptized into the faith and given a charge to follow Jesus.

I’ve been re-reading a book by L. William Countryman called Living on the Border of the Holy: Renewing the Priesthood of All*. I’d read it several years ago and it knocked my socks off. Reading it again tells me it still has the same impact. His thesis is that all baptized Christians are priests according to the order of Melchizedek, not just those who have undergone the training and the ceremony of ordination. We, like Melchizedek, don't have to be part of a priestly clan, don't even have to be ordained in order to act on our priesthood in the world. Each of us has some knowledge that we can pass on to others who don't already have that knowledge, and each of us can be of service to others and allow others to be of service to us. It's not an option, it's actually a fulfillment of our baptismal covenant and it's also part of what a priest does, something we ourselves can do, collar or no collar.

I've never felt a call to the sacramental (ordained) priesthood but neither have I ever really felt that I was, in Countryman's terminology, a “foundational” priest, a believer who has a priesthood bestowed at baptism. . Still, now that I’ve had a chance to take it all in, it's now a job I have to take seriously. I never thought of my job as a mentor in EfM as a form of priesthood, but, as Countryman assures me, the way I share my experience with the intersection of the sacred and the profane, encouraging those I mentor to look for the borders of the holy in their lives and to live into whatever ministry God calls them is not just a ministry but my job as a priest. It's an awesome responsibility, and a joyous one. I wonder if Melchizedek had a similar feeling when he blessed Abraham? What is going to be harder is seeing myself in the role of foundational priest in the world outside EfM, in the world where I do my daily living and interaction with people outside the church.

As a result of the book, I'm more conscious of trying to live where the holy touches everyday life and also my responsibility to those with whom I come in contact. Like Melchizedek, I may stand outside the ordained priesthood, but I stand in a circle of priests that surrounds and supports the ordained. I have a ministry (or perhaps several ministries) and a duty given me at my baptism. Perhaps if I gave more thought to my own priesthood, I might find a deeper sense of personal value and also a sense of purpose as well as an understanding of how I can bless and serve others while offering the best I have to God.

Hmmm. "A priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek." I guess not just clergy can lay claim to those words, can they? It definitely has a ring to it, but it also has a challenge. Now to figure out how to live it out. Living on the border of the holy can be a tricky, but with God's help, I can do it. It will just take some practice. Melchizedek found it, and now it's my turn.

*Countryman, L. William, Living on the Border of the Holy: Renewing the Priesthood of All. (1999) Harrisburg, PA: Morehouse Publishing.

"Nekkid" discipleship

2013-05-14T08:05:08Z

Psalm 97, 99, [100] (Morning)
Psalm 94, [95] (Evening)
Ezekiel 7:10-15,23b-27;
Hebrews 6:13-20
Luke 10:1-17

Luke 10:1-17 NRSV: After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.’ I tell you, on that day it will be more tolerable for Sodom than for that town. “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the deeds of power done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But at the judgment it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? No, you will be brought down to Hades. “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!”

Our little group who meets for Morning Prayer on Wednesday mornings at my home church sometimes chats as long or longer after the service as the service lasted. We got to talking about the classic dreams that everyone has seemed to have one version or another of at some time. The "exam dream" is one of them. Seems like almost everyone has had some version of it--the dreamer never studied all semester and is taking the final, and all sorts of weirdness occurs, like "can't find the room/door's locked," "starts to take the exam and it is in a foreign language," etc. It also seems that everyone has had the "naked" dream sometime, also--where the dreamer is in some public place and suddenly realizes he or she is naked.

I had to admit I've had the "naked exam dream"--where I was taking the final in the course I had not studied all semester, and as I finish, I look up, look around--and realize I'm stark bare-butt naked.

Well, Jesus might as well have told the disciples, "Go naked." (or as we say in these parts, "nekkid.") What, no extra shirt? No backpack? No extra pair of shoes? No bedroll? No little pot for cooking? No money? No mention of anything for self-defense, either. The modern version would probably also include no smartphone, no iPad, and no GPS, to boot.

Whether it's halfway across the globe, or right in our own neighborhoods, being a disciple of Jesus does come with the sensations of feeling underclothed and under-equipped. It requires going out of our comfort zone, whether that comfort is socioeconomic, demographic, or geographic. It can feel a little like being thrown into an immersion-style language class. We learn by trying things out, doing it wrong, observing how things work around us, accepting correction, and trying again. The reality is that this requires some degree of spiritual and emotional nakedness. As we take on new aspects of who we are as disciples...well...being clothed with all our usual stuff just prevents us from feeling the new clothes next to our skin.

Discipleship isn't always hearts and flowers with those closest to us. Jesus makes it clear that it may well have the exact opposite effect.

Jesus' instructions are simple and still applicable 2000 years later: Go where it leads us, stay with who will have us, and when no one seems to desire what we have to offer, move on. That last part may well be the hardest. Our human nature is to be liked, appreciated and welcomed. Rejection hurts. Today's Gospel reading makes an important clarification, though. What's being rejected isn't so much us as it is something bigger than us--the peace of Christ.

What aspect of discipleship feels a little naked to you, or at the very least, a little under-dressed?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Just visiting

2013-05-14T08:03:05Z

John 17:1-11

This morning Jesus prays for you and me, and all of us who ever have and ever will follow him. He prays that we will be loved, protected and made holy. He sees that his time on earth will be brief but wants to live on in us. He is going home to the Father, yet staying with each of us. And as he was sent by the Father into this world, he now sends us out to continue his work.

Perhaps it is because his Passion is so near, that Jesus so clearly and precisely explains two major premises of the Christian covenant. He prays that we will be one, as he and the Father are one - and you can't get any closer than that. We are not to be one only with our immediate or even extended family. We are not to be one only with our nice neighbors or "our kind of people." We are not to be one only with the saintly, the healthy, the smart, the sweet smelling, the un-addicted. We are to be one with all of God's children - the good, the bad and the ugly, the near and the far. And that takes a whole lot more than bumper sticker compassion, as we speed past the wreckage so many are making of their lives.

Where to start? Start with you. Start with me. Each of us must get ourselves right with God every day. Long before there was Twitter, there was prayer. It's faster than Tweets and has no character count limitations. It is express to the top and infinitely more reliable than Wikipedia. Constant contact with Jesus fills the day with endless opportunities to witness his love. In encouragement and assistance, in kindness and courtesy, in giving and sharing, we become one with Jesus. And as we draw closer to Christ, the spiritual gravity of grace draws those in the orbit of our lives along with us to God - the epicenter of all love.

The second concept is a mind bender. Jesus goes on to tell us that we: do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. We are all resident aliens, here on a "green card" to do the work of our Lord. And when the harvest is in or our contract is up, we are going home. We are in the world, but not of the world. It is an article of faith that we should have tattooed on our souls. It is Christ's parting message before he leaves for the cross. By his death and Resurrection we are redeemed and, each in our turn, are welcomed home - to live eternally in the grace of God with all who have gone before and all who will follow. And until the time we are together in glory, we're just visiting here. In Christ's love, let's make the most of it – this day and everyday!

Transformational living and giving

2013-05-13T08:04:19Z

Psalm 89:1-18 (Morning)
Psalm 89:19-52 (Evening)
Ezekiel 4:1-17
Heb. 6:1-12
Luke 9:51-62

Matthew 10.24-42 NRSV: “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household! “So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows. “Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Today's Gospel reading is one of those where it doesn't hurt to read the paragraphs preceding it. Matthew 10 names Jesus' disciples, and traditionally, "discipleship" is the preaching point. As we get to the end of our reading, however, we see that the thing that is most demanded of us is to be lavishly hospitable, trusting that God loves us and cares for us--even in our most tension-filled times.

Following the Gospel means to go against the flow--not just the world's flow, but our own. I was thinking about that recently when I had one of those days that suddenly went sour. You know the kind of days I'm talking about--those days where something happens in a moment that colors the next several days, or in their more extreme moments, weeks to months or years. It may be something as little as an unexpectedly humiliating moment or as large as a major personal or financial loss, an arrest. So many things in our life hinge on a moment--a police siren, a knock at the door, a summons, a single phone call--that turns our world completely upside down and backwards.

Our tendency following those moments is to be inhospitable in some way. Some folks act out and behave badly. Others go deeply inward and hide in their personal darkness. It's a time when we feel profound depression, shame, or guilt, with no room to give of ourselves. Rather, we feel we deserve to take. Our personal "flow" is to circle the wagons, bar the door, or strike out at the first person who gets too close. Yet, I believe, discipleship is the practice of learning to find a way to continue to give of ourselves when we feel a little stuck in the mud, or even when we are wallowing in our tar pit of despair.

That's an interesting set of turns of phrase--"welcoming prophets in the name of a prophet," and "welcoming righteous people in the name of a righteous person." I have to confess I'm not very perceptive when it comes to who's a prophet and who's righteous. My prophetometer is more or less broken, and my righteososcope seems rather obscured. However, our reading from Hebrews today sheds a little guidance there. We are not asked to be good at our discipleship; we're only asked to be diligent with it, "so as to realize the full assurance of hope to the very end." Since we don't know who the prophets and the righteous necessarily are in our lives until some later point in time, perhaps the more diligent tack is to simply be welcoming to all, and live in the hope that it will be revealed--even when things don't feel terribly hopeful in the present moment.

Jesus speaks in our reading today of a God who notices the most nondescript of the nondescript little brown birds, extrapolating that if God notices something that small, we can rest assured that we are noticed and loved. Discipleship, as Jesus describes it, is less about saving the souls of others, and more about a transformational way of living and giving--one that transcends both a broken world and our own broken spirits. It all starts with hospitality.

What broken piece of the world is crying for your generosity and hospitality--even if you're not in the mood?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

A love so generous

2013-05-12T08:07:01Z

Psalm 66, 67 (Morning)
Psalm 19, 46 (Evening)
Ezekiel 3:16-27
Ephesians 2:1-10
Matthew 10:24-33,40-42
Ephesians 2:1-10 NRSV: You were dead through the trespasses and sins in which you once lived, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work among those who are disobedient. All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else.

But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God— not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.

One of the odd discoveries I've had since being licensed as a lay preacher a few years ago is "You never know what people will claim to have heard in a homily." Now and then people will come up to me and tell a story about themselves, of a dark or uncertain time, and then say something like, "But then I remembered something you said when you preached on that, when you said (fill in the blank.)"

Well, that's all great except for one thing.

I don't ever recall saying what they claim I said. At least not the way they describe it anyway. They're being all complimentary, and I'm thinking, "But I didn't say that!" All the same, I keep my mouth more or less shut and thank them.

It's a great reminder that my works are not nearly as responsible for the message people hear on Sunday than I want to think it is. Paul is reminding us in Ephesians that a lot of the things we think cement us in our relationship with God are mostly illusion. God has already claimed ownership of our souls despite what we have or haven't done.

God doesn't love us because we're smart, or good-looking, or generous, or pious. God doesn't fall out of love with us because we're mentally challenged, or homely, or cheap, or irreverent. God's love for us is not tied to fees or dues or down payments, or installment payments, nor does it come with threat of abandonment or repossession. But here's the twist--it's not even as much as our individual selves, as it is ourselves in community. We are alive in Christ together, which means we need each other.

I suspect we've made this whole salvation thing more complicated in the 2000 years since Christ preached the Gospel than God ever intended. As a result, we lose our focus on one of the most fundamental aspects of the God-human relationship--that the Almighty sees us as beloved. I also suspect that we're missing the boat when we think God "tells" us something. We probably get what God "tells" us just as balled up as what people think I said in the pulpit--or even more so. Maybe a more realistic idea is that God reveals things to us and we have to trust that they are revealed in love, and act accordingly--a love so generous that its best reflection is in the power of groups of transformed individuals.

Hmmm. "A love so generous that its best reflection is in the power of groups of transformed individuals." That sounds a little like Pentecost, doesn't it?

As we await Pentecost on our liturgical calendar, where have you seen salvation reflected?

Maria Evans, a surgical pathologist from Kirksville, MO, writes about the obscurities of life, medicine, faith, and the Episcopal Church on her blog, Kirkepiscatoid

Understanding

2013-05-11T08:06:55Z

AM Psalm 87, 90
PM Psalm 136
Ezek. 3:4-17
Heb. 5:7-14
Luke 9:37-50

I don't always see the hookup between the readings but today wasn't one of those days. It's spelled out so clearly that it's impossible to miss the connection.

Ezekiel was to go to Israel, his own people, not to strangers who spoke a different language or even an unfamiliar dialect but people whose language and idioms Ezekiel knew well. Of course, Israel wouldn't pay any attention but God already knew that. The passage speaks several times of "hard": "...all of the house of Israel have a hard forehead"..."I have made your face hard against their faces, and your forehead hard against their foreheads... Like the hardest stone, harder than flint, I have made your forehead..."(3:7c-9b). God was giving the message that Israel wouldn't understand, wouldn't want to understand, the message Ezekiel was to bring them but he was to go and speak anyway. His very name, Ezekiel, was a clue to his mission because in Hebrew it means "God strengthens", a hardening process Ezekiel was going to need because the people he was to go and see definitely didn't understand very much -- and seemed not to want to understand very much.

In the reading from Hebrews, Paul wasn't mincing a whole lot of words in telling his correspondents that they had "become dull in understanding," not really living up to the standard he clearly expected. They needed to go back to the basics, relearn the original lessons, practice discernment. Not bad advice when someone reaches a point where they can't understand what's being presented to them, myself included.

Jesus healed a young boy with seizures and everybody was amazed. The disciples, though, seemed to be flunking Jesus 101 yet again, not really listening or comprehending what Jesus was telling them. Instead of talking about what Jesus had told them, they went off and started quarreling about which of them was better than the rest, acting more like schoolboys on the playground than disciples of a master who had tried to teach them greater things. They didn't understand and didn't really even seem to care that Jesus had called them on that lack of understanding.

Now there's understanding and there's understanding. There are some things a person can understand instinctively, like a fear of falling even in infants who've never even taken their first step. They learn to trust that their parents won't drop them, but that makes use of the other kind of understanding, the kind that comes through education and most of all, experience. A lot of kids sit in math class doodling the name of a boyfriend or drawing pictures of cars, just knowing that they'll never use all that stuff they're supposed to be learning. It's always a surprise when they grow up a bit and have to figure out how to add up the hours they've worked on their time sheets, or figure out how many square feet in the lawn they want to spray with Weed 'n' Feed so they can buy enough to cover it. I have to confess, I'm really math-challenged. If I have to do more than add two and two, I'm in trouble. I figure that's why God made calculators and computers and smart phones to do a lot of that stuff for me, but I still have to understand what question to ask it to answer.

A lot of times when people don't understand they stop listening. The Israelite people had stopped listening to God and they had stopped listening to the people God sent to try to get them back on track. The Hebrews stopped listening because they figured they knew it all when they didn't really even comprehend the basic teachings. The disciples might not have stopped listening totally, but they seemed to only listen on the surface; there was a lot that was being said underneath that they didn't understand because they were just taking the words at face value.

So I have to ask myself, how much do I really understand and how much am I just listening on the surface? How much am I listening for what I want to hear instead of what I need to hear? What am I doing to help others to really understand something and how much am I saying just to make myself feel important or smart or whatever? Who is an example for me of someone who not just understands but makes others want to understand as well?

There are a lot of things this world needs to understand, things like how to get along with others, the value of all human beings and not just members of one gender or one country, even the value of education. I think that's all encompassed by one lesson Jesus continually taught, and one that seems to be almost impossible to understand, much less accomplish. The lesson? "Love your neighbor as yourself." When we all understand that lesson, the world will be a safer, saner, healthier place, a place where God can come again and walk in the garden in the cool of the evening. And we can walk along.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

Transfiguration

2013-05-10T08:03:55Z

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah’—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen. -- Luke 9:28-36 NRSV

What an amazing reading. It's the kind of plot that could be expected in maybe something like science fiction, fantasy or maybe someone's dreams, but here it is laid out, asking us to read, mark and inwardly digest it.

Jesus and his chosen three disciples had gone up on a mountain where Jesus could pray. Even though he could pray anywhere, really, maybe the crowds were too thick for him to have any peace on flatter territory, maybe he just wanted to get a little closer to heaven, who knows? The disciples were tired but managed to stay awake, unlike later in the Garden of Gethsemane. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was mass hallucination, but Jesus began to change to a dazzling being and then there were two others with him. Did they announce themselves as Moses and Elijah? Were they the two most logical beings to appear in such a setting? It's beyond my pay grade to figure that out, but there they were, talking to Jesus while the disciples rubbed their eyes again and again and probably pinched one another to see if the other saw the same thing.

After the conversation ended, Peter the Impulsive suggested they do something physical, namely build some shrines to the three of them but then a voice spoke up and told them to pay attention to Jesus' words instead. God actually spoke to the disciples and it was recorded. This time, unlike at his baptism, there was no question of whether or not others heard God acknowledging Jesus as his son, beloved and chosen.

Something that strikes me is that there were several sets of three in this story. The number three was a common occurrence in the Bible, literally hundreds of threes such as Job's three daughters, Noah's three sons, Jonah in the fish for three days, David praying three times a day, Peter's vision of the sheet repeated three times, three sacred items in the Ark of the Covenant, three young men in a fiery furnace, the three levels of cosmology (Sheol/abyss, earth, heavens), etc. It was a number that signified completion like the three sides of an equilateral triangle. In terms of the transfiguration, I see another three: Moses and Elijah as representing the past leading to Jesus as the fulfillment of the promise of a messiah; Peter, James and John as representatives of the future and continuing story of God's relationship to humanity; and all of them meeting in their present, the period of time that keeps the past and the future from running into each other as someone once put it.

The other thing that strikes me is that after such an experience, nobody said anything to anybody else who wasn't there. If you saw something like that, wouldn't you want to tell someone if not the whole world? Or maybe it would seem just too crazy, too unreal for anyone to accept without thinking of you as a nut case or on some kind of mind-altering substance that was probably illegal. Maybe they needed to digest the experience, "process it," as the current lingo goes. Whatever it was, it was another secret that didn't get told right away, much as the secret of the women at the tomb at the end of Mark. Eventually, though, it did come out and appears in the gospel reading and in the other synoptic gospels although with slight differences. The basics, though, remain the same.

I've seen minor transfigurations, faces of people lighting up when seeing or hearing from a loved one, the face of a newly-ordained person, the face of a new mother seeing her child for the first time. There's a glow about them, even if their clothes don't turn whiter than a properly laundered altar cloth. Still, there's something awe-some about the experience, maybe not as powerful an experience as Peter, James and John had, but maybe enough to be give me a hint of what they felt. It sort of gives me a minute point of entry into the story, even if at the very furthest margins of it as I read and contemplate it.

Maybe I want to have the disciples' experience of the mystery, the continuity of history made visible and the very stamp of God's presence in the whole thing.

But then, I have the Eucharist.

Linda Ryan co-mentors 2 EfM Online groups and keeps the blog Jericho's Daughter

The Ascension

2013-05-09T08:05:41Z

Acts 1:1-11
Luke 24:44-53

Bereft, the disciples stare at the empty sky. The Master has disappeared, this time for good. He turned their worlds upside down, set their hearts afire, opened their minds to new understandings and their imaginations to new dreams. And now he is gone. They crane their necks, trying to catch one final glimpse of him, but the sky is innocent of all miraculous goings on. They are on their own.

Two strangers in white have joined them as they stand there staring. “Why are you looking up toward heaven?” the strangers ask. The implication is that there is somewhere better they ought to be focusing their attention. (They could, for instance, contemplate the strangers themselves. Where did these people come from?)

In a sense this is the time when the disciples truly become followers of the Way of Jesus. Before they were just tagging along for the ride. They were spectators in Jesus’ drama, witnesses instead of participants. Now they bring their gaze down, out of the heavens, to the things right in front of them. They have to decide what to do with the rest of the day, and the rest of their lives.

It is time for them to begin to take in what they have been taught. Alone and together, they will start to make it their own, to process it. They will speak a lot of sentences that begin, “Remember when he . . . .” They will take the full, glorious, immediate presence of God incarnate and make it into a story. Some things will be forgotten. Some will be given a twist Jesus himself never intended. But the story will be alive as only each of them can make it. The story will become their very own.

This is sad, of course. Jesus is gone, and he will never again walk the earth and embody Holiness as he did. His followers will have mourned him deeply, longing not only for his inspiration but for his smile and the particular timbre of his voice.

But on the other hand the story really begins right here. Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies it never grows into a full fledged plant. Unless the Master is no longer around, the wisdom given the followers never takes root, branches out and bears fruit. Each of the disciples has to make what Jesus gave them his or her very own, embody it according to the dictates of his or her particular nature, proclaim the good news in a new way uniquely theirs.

The living faith we have today is the result of this process, a continual re-embodiment transmitted down through the ages from willing soul to willing soul until it touches you and me. Each new incarnation is a sort of resurrection. Jesus lives on and on as his followers find their Christ-like centers and manifest them. The Gospel is a living thing.

At some point it will be time for each of us to take flight from our earthly form, leaving behind those who have loved us and received the wisdom that is uniquely our own. How will the seed that is Christ die once again when we go? How will it grow and blossom in the hearts of those we have influenced and left behind?