Holy Saturday, April 19, 2014

AM Psalm 95 [for the Invitatory] 88; PM Psalm 27
Lam. 3:37-58; Heb. 4:1-16[AM]; Rom. 8:1-11[PM]

“We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.”

Hebrews 4:15 (NRSV)

Jesus gets us.  Here on Holy Saturday in that time between his death on the cross on Good Friday and the new life and resurrection to come on Easter morning we hear this reading and remember that it is because of this dark in between place  we find ourselves in that Jesus gets us.  Jesus intimately understands our pain and our weakness because he has been there.  He has suffered injustice and been wrongly convicted.  He has been abandoned and betrayed by his closest friends.  He has been tortured, brutalized, and suffered death on the cross.  He has been placed deep within a tomb and left there for his body to decompose.  He gets our pain and weakness because he has been to the darkest places of our world and so he meets us there whenever we find ourselves engulfed in life’s darkness too. 

My New Testament professor from seminary, Eric Heen, writes at Working Preacher, “God intimately understands our frailty -- from the inside out. Such weakness is not an impediment to God’s ability to bring life out of death. In fact, God’s power is known only when the depth of our weakness is acknowledged.”  Our society doesn’t look very highly upon weakness.  In fact, it is often looked upon as an impediment. However, God turns this upside down.  As Dr. Heen points out, weakness is not an impediment for God.  Instead, it is an opportunity to reveal what God can do with even the most hopeless of situations.  It is an opportunity to show that not even death – the place we are at our weakest and the most final of all finalities we can experience in this world – can eclipse God’s ability to do a new thing and to turn a situation around.  Just when we think the story has ended and the tragic ending is written we find that God has more to say and the story is not over.  Just when all seems lost we find that God is bringing about resurrection in the most surprising of ways to the most surprising of places. 

Dwelling in the darkness of this world and waiting for the light of Easter to break through this is the hope we cling to.  It’s what sustains us on Holy Saturday as we wait hopeless outside the tomb thinking that darkness has won, that all hope is lost, and that the story ends here with Jesus’ death.  Yet, here in the darkness Paul’s letter to the Hebrews reminds us that this isn’t our reality, we aren’t left alone in our pain and weakness, all is not lost, God is still at work, and God’s promise of hope and new life are still to be revealed because Easter is coming!

The Rev. Karen Safstrom

Good Friday, April 18, 2014

“Therefore prepare your minds for action; discipline yourselves, set all your hope on the grace that Jesus Christ will bring you when he is revealed. Like obedient children, do not be conformed to the desires that you formerly had in ignorance. Instead, as he who called you to be holy is holy, be holy yourselves in your conduct.”  1 Peter 1:13-14

Discipline myself? Okay, but only for two more days, right?  Because then Easter will be here and things can go back to normal. The going-without this, and the doing-extra that, can all stop and life can return to its ordinary pre-Lenten ways. Right?

Not exactly. Lent isn’t meant to be a temporary change of behavior; it’s meant to be a permanent change of mind and heart. Lent is a time of repentance; in Greek the word is metanoia which is defined as "a spiritual conversion or awakening; a fundamental change of character". Lent is the time when we are to "prepare our minds for action" as it says in 1st Peter. It's a time to engage in spiritual "practice" in preparation for the big game so we can play like the Easter people we are called to be.

At the start of Lent, we remembered Jesus' forty days in the Judean wilderness; the forty days he spent in fasting and self-denial, and then we attempted to spend the forty days of Lent emulating his sacrifice. But it shouldn't stop there. When Jesus left the desert, he didn't go back to the carpenter's shop or back to his family. One never can leave the wilderness and "go back to normal". Jesus left a changed man; a man with "a mind prepared for action", and we are called to leave Lent the same way.

Robin Carlo 

Maundy Thursday, April 17, 2014

Grace be unto you and peace…

Prayer

“I came to serve, not to be served”.

Jesus the Servant.

Jesus the Suffering Servant.

Giving of himself.  “The first shall be last and the last shall be first”.

Jesus gives without creating a “one-up” power position.  Many times when we give we, when we serve, we may perceive ourselves as above the one we are serving…because we are so good and unselfish in serving another.

The exchange with Peter in tonite’s Gospel is similar to the exchange with John the Baptist in river Jordan. The back and forth is about who is serving whom.

We need to give. We are creatures who find satisfaction in giving. We want to make a difference. The old maxim, “it is better to give than to receive”, resonates with our ego. When we give we are in control.  Give is good because we do make a difference and we do want to feel good about our giving.

But a deeper look at the story of the Last Supper and  Jesus serving his disciples, his washing feet, reveals that the beginning of discipleship is to RECEIVE. 

When we receive, we are vulnerable, not in control.  We are naked and exposed, we are seen, and we are loved.

Yes, of course, we need to grow in our learning the art of giving. But even more so, we need to grow in our learning how to receive. Like an empty vessel, we are filled, and our cup runneth over.

When we open ourselves to receive we risk surprise. We receive what we need and discover we may not have known what we seek.

When serving the Bread of the Eucharist, I place the bread in the open hand..not a fist, but an open hand.

Often a person will open their mouth wide, stick out their tongue, and I will place the Bread on their tongue. A moment of total availability to receive.

Open hand, open mouth, open heart.

When we receive we are then prepared to serve. We have a

“TOWEL AND BASIN MINISTRY”.  Our call is to move through the world serving others, whether washing feet, feeding bread, or praying for the sick and grieving.

We serve because we have first been served; we love because He first loved us and gave himself for us.

Only when we have received, surrendered to the surprise of grace, are we then equipped to serve others without a “one up” power play. When we have received the washing of our own feet, the feeding of our own soul, then we are equipped to wash one another’s feet.

We have a towel and basin ministry. 

The Rev. Randall K. Wilburn

The Dignity to Give and Receive

"Nobody is so poor that he/she has nothing to give, and nobody is so rich that he/she has nothing to receive."  These words by Pope John-Paul II, offer a powerful direction for all who want to work for peace.  No peace is thinkable as long as the world remains divided into two groups:  those who give and those who receive.  Real human dignity is found in giving as well as receiving.  This is true not only for individuals but for nations, cultures, and religious communities as well.

A true vision of peace sees a continuous mutuality between giving and receiving.  Let's never give anything without asking ourselves what we are receiving from those to whom we give, and let's never receive anything without asking what we have to give to those from whom we receive.

April 16, 2014

AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 74; Lam. 2:1-9; 2 Cor. 1:23-2:11; Mark 12:1-11

“¹⁰Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. What I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ.  ¹¹And we do this so that we may not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs.” 2 Corinthians 1:23-2:11

The Epistle reading appointed for today gives us a message of forgiveness, but it is surrounded by readings that focus on punishment and vengeance.  There is a plea for vengeance in the Psalms (“you, O God, will cast them down into the lowest pit; the bloodthirsty and treacherous shall not live out half their days. - Psalm 55:23) and a reaction to vengeance in Lamentations (⁵ “The Lord has become like an enemy; he has destroyed Israel.  He has destroyed all its palaces, laid in ruins its strongholds, and multiplied in daughter Judah mourning and lamentation.”)  God’s vengeance and punishment is directed not only to the enemies of Israel but also to the nation of Israel when it had gone astray.  This same vengeance characterizes the “owner of the vineyard” when the tenants kill his heir in Mark’s Gospel.  He destroys them and gives the vineyard to others – (Mark 12:9).  The vineyard owner is using the “tough love” that Israel experienced back in the Exile and it is time for mourning and lamentation. 

The powerless heir is the most troubling part of this parable for me.  He is simply a silent victim.  The tenants recognize him, seize him, kill him, and throw him out of the vineyard.  So how does the rejected stone become the cornerstone? 

Look now to 2Corinthians, verse 10 – “What I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ.” 

Paul is drawing on his imitation of Christ in order to practice forgiveness.  He didn’t get that example of forgiveness from the vineyard owner or his heir.  And he certainly didn’t get it from Psalm 55 or Lamentations.  When we (and Paul) reflect on the story of the tenants in the vineyard, we see the crucified Christ.  We know that the heir was mostly silent when he was seized and killed, but not altogether silent.  He spoke some of the most moving words of forgiveness that we will ever hear:  “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”  (Luke 23:34).  The heir had lived among the tenants for a while, and he knew the hold that death and fear had on their lives.  He understood them and he had compassion for them.

¹¹”And we do this so that we may not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs.”

How frustrating our own stubbornness is to us.  How exasperating it is when we respond to our fears by lashing out at others.  I’m insecure, so I attack.  Where is Christ’s presence in that?  I’m afraid there is more “Satan” than “Christ” in that design, and I am easily and often outwitted by it.  Jesus knew this.  He lived with it.  He saw the power that fear has over us and how strong that presence is in our world.  And he tells us again and again, “Do not be afraid.” 

~Sue Bastardo 

April 15, 2014

AM Psalm 6, 12; PM Psalm 94 Lam. 1:17-22; 2 Cor. 1:8-22; Mark 11:27-33

Selected Verses from Lamentations of Jeremiah 1.1-22

³ Judah has gone into exile with suffering
   and hard servitude;
⁵ Her foes have become the masters,
   her enemies prosper,
because the Lord has made her suffer
   for the multitude of her transgressions;
her children have gone away,
   captives before the foe.
⁸ Jerusalem sinned grievously,
   so she has become a mockery;
all who honoured her despise her,
   for they have seen her nakedness;
she herself groans,
   and turns her face away.
⁹ Her uncleanness was in her skirts;
   she took no thought of her future;
her downfall was appalling,
   with none to comfort her.
‘O Lord, look at my affliction,
   for the enemy has triumphed!’
Look, O Lord, and see
   how worthless I have become.
 Look and see
if there is any sorrow like my sorrow,
   which was brought upon me,
which the Lord inflicted
   on the day of his fierce anger.

¹³ From on high he sent fire;
   it went deep into my bones;
he spread a net for my feet;
   he turned me back;
he has left me stunned,
   faint all day long.

¹⁴ My transgressions were bound^* into a yoke;
   by his hand they were fastened together;
they weigh on my neck,
   sapping my strength;
the Lord handed me over
   to those whom I cannot withstand.
 Zion stretches out her hands,
   but there is no one to comfort her;
the Lord has commanded against Jacob
   that his neighbours should become his foes;
Jerusalem has become
   a filthy thing among them…
¹⁸ The Lord is in the right,
   for I have rebelled against his word;

In this horrific reading from Lamentations, we find God portrayed as a male abuser, while Jerusalem is portrayed as a woman, and a victim of God’s abuse.  In the verses leading up to today’s reading, Jerusalem has been called “a mockery”, and “filthy thing”.  All have  “seen her nakedness…and her uncleanness was in her skirts”. Jerusalem is abused and beaten by the God she trusted. And even more horribly, she blames herself, and says she deserves this abuse.

Some might say, “It’s not really a women, it’s just a metaphor for Jerusalem.” I would counter with a question: Down through the centuries, how often have these lines been quoted to justify the abuse of women? How can this reading possibly be good news for our time, when statistics of violence against women are so frightening? (For example, a 2014 government health study concluded that 1 out of every 14 women worldwide have been sexually assaulted, and one in four college women have been subjected to sexual violence.)

I would like to turn tables in my meditation and ask, “How does this scripture affect you? What do you think about the images in this reading?”  To help, I invite you to follow the link below to the Episcopal Words Matter Project. http://www.episcopalwomenscaucus.org/wordsmatter.htm

This project seeks to explore the words, images, language, and symbols used in worship and every day life to talk about God, self, and other human beings. It focuses on  “expansive language”, a term used to indicate that respectful language that honors all of God’s people is more than just gender inclusive. This project seeks to find words, phrases and images that neither offend nor reinforce stereotypes that may be harmful to anyone.

The site includes resources for a group study. Would anyone like to join me in a study of this timely topic?

Julie Mankowsky

April 14, 2014

Psalm 36:5-11; Isaiah 42:1-9; Hebrews 9:11-15; John 12:1-11

The common theme in today’s four readings is the Lord’s gift of love for all of us.  First, Psalms 36 includes many similes and metaphors to illustrate the Lord’s love as a gift of natural beauty and imagination.  Second, in Isaiah 42, love appears as a gift of justice and salvation.  In this reading, the Lord’s servant is charged with carrying the spirit that is both gentle and faithful.  Later, in Hebrews 9 we learn how Christ manifests his love through his redeeming power that frees us from sin.  And finally, in John 12 we are assured that God has our back, as the apostle tells a story of how Jesus defends Mary, Lazarus’ sister, from Judas Iscariot’s false accusation.  These four different representations of God’s love reassure us that we are protected, never alone.  In Lent, a time when we prepare ourselves for the commemoration of Christ’s death and resurrection, I find it particularly important to keep in mind the many ways in which God’s love manifests itself. 

In this time of reflection and repentance, we often focus on the cross as a symbol of God’s loving sacrifice.  Through his resurection, Jesus overcomes torture and death in the cross and brings a new light to the world and a new life for all of us.  In his death and resurrection the Lord is with us always.  Today’s readings illustrate how God is in our lives, carrying us, supporting us.  Here are a few examples:

Psalm 36:7 describes God’s steadfast love through metaphor:

How precious is your steadfast love, O God!

All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.

Isaiah 42: 6 affirms God’s promise that he will be always by our side:

I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness,

I have taken you by the hand and kept you [….]

Hebrews 9:15 shows the Lord’s redeeming power in our lives:

For this reason he is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, because a death has occurred that redeems them from the transgressions under the first covenant.

John 12:7 tells how the Lord’s has our back, freeing us to carry our own acts of love:

Jesus said, ‘Leave [Mary] alone.  She bought [this costly perfume] so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.

These four examples of God’s love remind us of Jesus’ triumph over death so that we might find hope in our salvation.  They also suggest that because of Jesus’ ultimate act of love we never walk alone. And in knowing that we are not alone, today’s readings help us to remember our own commitment to love God, our neighbors, ourselves.  

Esteban Loustaunau

Palm Sunday - April 13, 2014

Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his Resurrection.  -Liturgy for Palm Sunday, BCP p. 272

In doctors' waiting rooms, people pass the time by reading ancient magazines, playing with cell phones, or simply fidgeting. Their restlessness always makes me wonder how a person waiting for a doctor can be called a patient.  But the word comes from the Latin root word "pati" that speaks of suffering and enduring. People generally come to a doctor because they are suffering, trying to endure some form of pain or discomfort. The word passion comes from "passus," a verb form of the same root word. So when we say that someone has a passion for something, we may mean that they care enough to suffer for it.

Palm Sunday, the day we reenact Jesus' trial and execution, is often called the Sunday of the Passion. Back when I thought the word dealt only with romantic love, I could not understand using passion to describe Jesus' suffering and death. But on the Sunday of the Passion, we retell the story of Jesus' arrest, torture, and crucifixion. On this day we see how deeply God loves us. Remembering that "passion" comes from the root word for "suffering," we see in detail what God was willing to do to save us. As disciples, we ask in the Palm Sunday liturgy "that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his Resurrection."

Few followers of Christ today will be asked to endure physical torture and death for God. But are we willing to endure other human trials-embarrassment at not fitting in, acknowledgement of weakness, vulnerability, and need of forgiveness-for the love of God? Do we love God with a passion?

Lord God, allow us to love others with the same passion you show for us.

From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

Fifth Sunday in Lent - April 6, 2013

The blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you for ever.   -The Holy Eucharist: Rite One, BCP p. 339

I suspect most Christians struggle intellectually with the concept of the Holy Trinity. We believe in one God, but we invoke "Father, Son, and Holy Spirit" in countless places in our liturgy. The Trinity allows us to see different facets of God and the different ways that God works in human life.

I once preferred to see God exclusively as the Father, a power above us. Though my own human father was not a disciplinarian, some of my earliest adult ideas of God included a father's discipline. Much of our Christian tradition seems to equate the "Father" aspect of the Trinity with the law, giving us the intimidating disciplinarian who keeps us out of trouble.

Later in life, I preferred to think of God as the Son, the very being of God in human flesh. Seeing God incarnate in Jesus allowed me to have a more practical faith, one which translated the power of God into acts of human flesh. God the Son gave me tangible ways of putting God's presence into practice, as Jesus showed me how a perfect human being responds to the challenges of earthly existence.

I struggled most to understand God the Holy Spirit. My struggle came not from the inability to see God changing me and working within me, but from the "bad press" given to the Holy Spirit by friends. Once I realized that my fear of the Holy Spirit came from the flawed ideas I'd been given, I loved the idea that God's presence lives in me and works through me.

Ultimately, I see the Trinity as constant and as important in a maturing and more complete view of God. I have moved from God the Father and disciplinarian, to God the Son and model human being, to God the Holy Spirit and the power of God at work within us.

God above us. God with us, God in us. God, protect us, walk with us, inspire us.

From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

April 3, 2014

Sometimes when I read the Gospel, I try to imagine what it must have been like to be there, with Jesus, at the moment or event being recounted. In today’s Gospel we encounter Jesus and his disciples “on the road” to the villages of Caesarea Philippi.  Jesus asked them to report to him on people’s perception of him, and his disciples’ perception.  To paraphrase, while the public sees him as a prophet, the disciples clearly know him to be the Messiah. Jesus sternly orders them to keep his true identity a secret and “don’t tell anyone about me.”  Clearly he knows trouble lies ahead.

Jesus then breaks the bad news to his loyal followers: that soon he will be rejected by the religious leaders, undergo great suffering and be put to death.  He also informs them that three days later, he will rise again. 

The reading doesn’t go into detail about the disciples’ reaction, but can you imagine this scene?  They must have been “beside themselves” to say the least.  Many of us can certainly remember times where we have been on the receiving end of horrible news, and the helplessness that often accompanies these moments.  Is the part about rising again in three days going to even sink in with them?  I would guess they had all witnessed a death or dealt with losing a loved one - they could probably wrap their heads around that.  But a resurrection? This most likely did little to soften the blow of Jesus’ prediction. Being in that place at that very moment, I wonder if the “3 days” part of Jesus’ announcement even registered, never mind offer any consolation to this devastating news.  How do you come to terms with that?  Did they even believe him? Knowing this, Jesus tells the guys that it’s time to start thinking very differently about this life, and the next one.  He tells the disciples, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.”  Jesus then addresses a crowd and proclaims “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” 

In our faith, we are blessed with the belief in eternal life.  When we lose loved ones or witness tragedy on the nightly news, we turn to this faith as a way to guide and comfort us. The disciples didn’t have that luxury – they had to take Jesus at his word, and what a leap of faith for them.  “The keys to the kingdom are yours,” is a saying that people in my family love to proclaim when eulogizing a family member.  We focus on the “divine things” as a way to comfort us in times of loss.   At that moment, on the way to Caesarea Philippi, little did the disciples know that they would be among the first to witness the transformation of darkness to light; despair to joy.

Lent is a time for us to reflect on how fragile “this life” can be, and on the glory that awaits.   In closing, please allow me to share this Henry Van Dyke piece - another family favorite! And let us all thank God for the divine things… 

“I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white
sails to the morning breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until at length
she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come
to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;
"There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull
and spar as she was when she left my side
and she is just as able to bear her
load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad
shout;
"Here she comes!"

-          Phil King

April 2, 2014

Genesis 50:15-26 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 Mark 8:11-26

During Lent other subscribers and I are receiving emails with a short videotape from the Episcopal monastery in Cambridge Massachusetts, home of the Society of St. John the Evangelist.

Recently one of the videotaped meditations was done by one of the youngest members of the community. I recognized him and his name. A while ago when I was at the monastery for retreat one of the meals was a “talking meal” rather than a silent one. This young monk was sitting next to me. After we had introduced ourselves to one another and had some conversation - what people call “small talk” - he asked me a question. “What's going on in your life right now where you can see something life-giving, something of the Spirit of God?”

    

At first I was startled since we were moving quickly from what's your name kind of questions to this deeper one. Gradually I realized that his question was a gift. It prompted me to take a closer look at my life. I shared with him some of the life-giving aspects of my life at that time.

    

The other day when I saw that same young monk giving a videotaped Lenten reflection, I remembered that conversation and his question.

I thought of him again today when I was looking at the readings for April 2 and read in 1 Corinthians 12:7 - "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good."

   

I asked myself where I had seen the manifestation of the Spirit through the members of St. Francis and of Bethany Lutheran Church in Orange where I supply every Sunday.

  

In whom had I seen the manifestation of the Spirit of God in those communities and in what ways? People and their particular gifts came to mind. I saw not just them and their gifts but also God at work in them.

   

Every Sunday in the creed I profess my faith in the Holy Spirit and in the communion of saints.   

I had seen that Spirit of God in those people, in those gifted saints who came to my mind.   

I knew through my experience the mystery of Incarnation - God taking on human flesh.

- The Rev. Janice Schuyler

April 1, 2014

The Church of Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes in Tabgha is believed to be the site of the miracle of the loaves and fishes.  Not the site of the seven loaves and a few fish we read of today in Mark 8, but the site of the five loaves and two fish we read of a couple of chapters back.  Actually both events were on the northern shores of the Sea of Galilee, so the miracles probably took place pretty close to one another. Even if Tabgha isn’t the exact setting for today’s gospel, it’s certainly close enough.  Use your imagination.

The church was built over a rock (seen beneath the altar) that is believed to be the rock on which Jesus blessed the loaves and the fish (either the five and two or the seven and a few) before the disciples distributed them to the crowd.  Mark doesn’t actually tell us that Jesus placed the food on a rock to bless them, but it’s a good guess.  There weren’t picnic tables around and Jesus would have needed somewhere to set the fish while he blessed the loaves and vice versa. Now, having been there (have I mentioned I’ve been to Israel?), I can tell you that although there are other large rocks in the area, this one appears to be the largest, so if it isn’t the exact rock, it’s certainly close enough.  Use your imagination.

And sometimes that’s what faith is; believing that whatever you have is close enough.  Close enough that, if you do use your imagination, it can become more than enough, an abundance even, with so much left over that the only prayer you can utter is thank you.  Jesus doesn’t ask the disciples, or us, to give more than we have; he just says something like, “Hand over what you’ve got; it’s close enough.  I’ll make something out of it; something beyond your imagination.”

March 31, 2014

"Do this for the remembrance of me." - Eucharistic Prayer A, BCP page 362

My dad had the quickest wit of anyone I've met, and I often recount his jokes and comebacks with others. Telling those stories, I laugh and cry at the same time, delighted over his wit and longing for his presence. In trading stories about my dad, all of us who loved him remember him, finding ourselves in his presence again. Though physically gone, he is spiritually present in a powerful way. Our love for him means that he continues to live on in us - in the joy, words, and tenderness he invokes in us.

Our Eucharistic prayers reflect the same kind of remembering that invokes the presence of a loved one. They hold more power though, than the simple memory. Such remembering restores the body of Christ on earth, and every person who chooses to love becomes part of that body of believers.

In the Eucharistic prayer, we recall Jesus' instruction to "Do this for the remembrance of me." In those words, Jesus asks us to do much more than leaf through the memory album. He asks us to make him present to others by living as he lived.

Each time we love without thought of reward or condition, and each time we forgive others for having hurt us, we bring Christ's body to life again. When we hold the hand of a grieving or fearful friend, we become the hands of Christ, doing God's healing work in the world. When we speak words of forgiveness in response to those who have hurt us, we become the voice of Christ. When we invite others to lean on us, we become the shoulders of Christ, helping to bear the burdens of human existence. When we see the value in every human being, we become the eyes of Christ, looking with tenderness upon his beloved. In all physical gestures of human kindness, compassion, and care, we embody the presence of God on earth, 'remembering' the body of Christ in human flesh.

The words and actions we share at Holy Eucharist hold great power, not only in creating memories, but in reassembling the body of Jesus Christ. Because we love him and because we imitate him in our compassion, forgiveness, and self-sacrifice for others, Jesus lives on. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we don't simply remember him, we re-member him.

Lord Jesus, energize our words and worship with your presence.

Fourth Sunday in Lent - March 30, 2014

Gracious Father, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ came down from heaven to be the true bread which gives life to the world; Evermore give us this bread, that he may live in us, and we in him.  -Collect for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, BCP p. 219

In the Greek pantheon, the god Hermes serves as the god of transitions and boundaries. While we serve the one true God and not on god among many, we find many boundaries crossed in the God of Jesus Christ.

Jesus' incarnation represents the key boundary-crossing in our faith tradition. In the Collect for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, we remember that crossing-over when we pray, "Gracious Father, whose blessed Son Jesus Christ came down from heaven to be the true bread which gives life to the world." We acknowledge that we cannot be sustained by human, earthly bread, and that the nourishment Jesus brings means that "he may live in us, and we in him."

So what does it mean, in the everyday life of a disciple, that God crossed the boundary between heaven and earth, between the human and the divine? Is it simply a display of God's love, or does it also empower our lives as human beings?

When we pray in the collect that 'he may live in us, and we in him,' we seek the courage and power to cross those boundaries ourselves. If our Lenten journey and all of the Christian way transforms us, then we find ways to love others as Jesus loved. We find ways to forgive others, even those who would have us killed, as Jesus forgave. We find ways to hear God's voice above he human din, as Jesus did.

In such moments, however brief, Jesus lives in us and works through us. And with our hearts open to deep transformation, we connect heave to earth and the divine to human. For we worship the Lord Jesus Christ, the ultimate God of transitions and boundary-crossings.

Lord, inspire us to erase boundaries, that we all may be one.


From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

March 28, 2014

“Come let us sing to the Lord; *

let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.

Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving *

and raise a loud shout to him with psalms.”

You know the rest, right?  

The text of Psalm 95 is surely familiar to most Episcopalians as the Venite, which is derived from the Latin for “Oh come.”  The canticle is used as a call to worship, so I hope you’ll forgive the pun if I say that the tune should ‘ring a bell.’  If you need a little help though, click this link: http://www.missionstclare.com/music/service_music/Venite/venite.mid  The file which downloads should be playable in most media players.

What strikes me about Psalm 95 is the frequent use of the word ‘us.’  Let us sing to the Lord.  Let us shout for joy.  Let us worship and bow down.  Psalm 95 clearly emphasizes the plurality, the commonality, the communion of worship.  As Christians we are often taught that our personal relationship with God through Christ is our salvation.  That God knows us personally and receives our silent thoughts and prayers even if we share them with none of our brothers and sisters.  I’m sure this is true, but it doesn’t mean that worship should be a solitary pursuit, or that there is no benefit to praying together.  

This is why we attend Church in the first place.  Not because we believe that it’s the only place where we can find God, but because we recognize that there is value in praying together, learning together, and growing together.  

And so we come.  We come from numerous different towns.  We come from different backgrounds and experiences.  We come from different personalities and skills.  We come from different economic circumstances, different political paradigms, different ages and different life philosophies.  We come to sing the Venite… to sing to the Lord together.

-Brion

March 27, 2014

I’m going to focus on the Gospel and this Gospel is very familiar. When I hear or read Gospels this familiar I try to make myself not focus on what is normally perceived as the main symbol or topic.

In this Gospel what immediately hit me were these verses. “He said to them, ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.”  Then later on in the reading “As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd”

In those couple of sentences we can learn a lot about Jesus’s message through his personal feelings and not his parables.  Jesus’s 1st reaction to the situations presented to him is empathy, concern and compassion.  For me these are simple little nuances of Jesus’s ministry that get overlooked sometimes in the larger context of readings.

I love nothing more than a sermon that walks me through the historical context of a Gospel, how if the word is translated in Greek the significance is this or if in Hebrew it is this.  I have a love for history and little twists to stories that change the understanding of our Gospels and other readings.  It is very interesting stuff and when a Gospel or passage is confounding this information is very useful.

There’s another way to untangle very difficult Gospels and passages also. Look at the readings through the eyes of the speaker, Jesus of Nazareth. I firmly believe all He says and does is steeped in empathy, concern and compassion. 

So what does this have to do with Lent? Lent is always closely associated with self-sacrifice to share in Jesus’s suffering. Yet, in this Gospel I witness Jesus telling His apostles, they need rest, they need to eat. He’s not imploring them to rest later because we have work to do; you can grab some hummus, pita and olives later. No, He knows what they need and it’s some empathy, concern and compassion (rest and eat something guys). When Jesus stepped off that boat, he didn’t see the crowds and say “man this is going to be a long day”, Jesus looked out and felt compassion for people who made hurried long trips just to hear His teachings; he had empathy for their sacrifice and later fed them abundantly. Jesus didn’t send them away, thinking to Himself maybe a little hunger and exhaustion will make My teaching sink in better for them.

I think His life, his manner of walking among us can be telling us it’s not what we deprive ourselves of that will bring us closer to Him and His Kingdom.  It’s what we give others, which is empathy, concern and compassion.  It’s to give of ourselves to strangers, maybe even perceived enemies which is a huge sacrifice because none of those emotion and actions related to them is easy. In order to do it we sacrifice our pride, we put others 1st and these things are the personal and difficult sacrifices that bring us closer to Him. These are the sacrifices that will bring us far greater rewards personally and spiritually as we intentionally walk in His way.

En al paz de Dios

Tom Wilson

March 26, 2014

When reading Psalm 96, one line really stuck out to me. “Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day.” The line says to tell of God’s salvation, not just once, not just at church, but day to day. The Psalm also tells us to declare his “marvelous works among all the peoples.” It made me think of how one should go about telling others about God. The most obvious way is to walk up to people and simply tell them about all the stories in the bible, and then continue doing that day to day.

However, this approach only serves to push your beliefs onto others and simultaneously push them away. Then I looked farther along in the Psalm and saw where it talks about “Honour and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary,” and then it became clear to me. In being called to tell others about God’s “marvellous works”, we are being called to tell them not just through word of mouth, but also by our actions.

We are called to be honorable and majestic, strong and beautiful. When we are honorable, even when others mistreat us and when we are strong even when we feel weak, we as the creations of God are showing his majesty and beauty. In being the best that we can be, we are telling others of God’s greatness every day.

We are called to praise God and allow his everlasting love to shine through us, proclaiming his glory to the world.

-Caroline Galvinhill

March 25, 2014

AM Psalm 78:1-39; PM 78:40-72; Gen. 45:1-15; 1 Cor. 7:32-40; Mark 6:1-13

³⁵ They remembered that God was their rock,
   the Most High God their redeemer. 
³⁶ But they flattered him with their mouths;
   they lied to him with their tongues. 
³⁷ Their heart was not steadfast towards him;
   they were not true to his covenant. 
³⁸ Yet he, being compassionate,
   forgave their iniquity,
   and did not destroy them;
often he restrained his anger,
   and did not stir up all his wrath. 
³⁹ He remembered that they were but flesh,
   a wind that passes and does not come again.

Psalm 78:35-39 (NRSV)

I forget.  A lot.  And I mess up and let people down.  I do that a lot too.  I wish I didn’t, but I do.  I wish I had it all together and got it all right all the time, but I don’t.  I fail myself, others, and God.

 It’s my reality no matter how much I would like my reality to be otherwise.  No matter how much I try to be perfect and get it all right it simply never happens. No matter how much I beat myself up and try as I might to pull off perfection, I fail.  I would love to be perfect, but I realize that I will never be and that is ok.

It is ok because as we read in our psalm for today we aren’t any different from the Israelites, God’s chosen people, in our imperfections.  They messed up too.  A lot.  In spite of what God did for them in taking care of them and providing for them in their journey to the Promised Land they sinned against God.  They doubted God. They failed God.  And yet we read that God didn’t destroy them or give up on them no matter how many times they failed to live up to God’s perfect hope for them.  God forgave them and gave them another chance.  And another.  And another.  We read that God remembered as they messed up and let God down that “they were but flesh.” 

We begin Lent each year remembering that same thing as we mark ashen crosses on our foreheads and hear that we “are but dust and to dust we shall return.”  We are fallible.  We are broken.  We are imperfect.  We let God down.  We aren’t perfect Christians and yet God takes who and what we are and uses it no matter how imperfect it might be.

Before Lent began this year I posted a link on my Facebook page to this blog post (WARNING: There are some swear words in this post).  I shared this post from the blog, Redemption Pictures, because I think too often we believe that as Christians we have to have it all together.  We think we have to present to the world a view of ourselves that is perfect and other than we really are in all our imperfections.  Yet, the author writes, “The truth is, faith is ugly. Sometimes there’s more despair than hope. Sometimes we’re disappointed with God. Sometimes we’re disappointed with ourselves. Sometimes there’s nothing left to say but swear words.”

Our faith journey isn’t easy.  It isn’t perfect.  We aren’t perfect.  And yet when we mess up as we most certainly will over and over again, God picks us up, brushes our dusty selves off, and says to us, “Try again.”  So each day we get up and do just that.   We try again.  In all our imperfections and failings, we try again.  As we stumble along on this journey of faith and we offer up our imperfect selves for God to use, may we echo the blog’s author, Micah Murray, as he sums up his faith journey, “I’m stumbling in the direction of God, I think. I hope.”

Karen Safstrom

March 24, 2014

Romans 4:1-12

St. Paul's illustration is circumcision.  However, his subject is one's relationship with God.  But it could be difficult if one doesn't refer back to one's 10th grade exercises in sentence diagramming. (I once enjoyed that exercise so much it never occurred to me to ask how it might be useful. Then to discover diagramming helps Bible reading -- at least Paul.)  Circumcision originated as a practice in ancient Egypt. It came to symbolize something "sacramental" with Abraham's experience and the heritage that he left - later to be legalized during Moses' time. Eventually St. Paul used it to illustrate the deeply human inclination to confuse law with grace or behavior with attitude or achievement with worth.

My grandfather often found opportunities to say to his grandsons "The mark of a gentleman is he is able to accept a gift or a compliment graciously. What frequently we hear said is: "Oh, you're too good. You shouldn't have."  What it says about our sense of self worth may be motivated by trying to be polite but it also might suggest something more "political" than polite "Oh, you shouldn't have...smacks of being "corrective" rather than appreciative.

But Paul isn't giving us a lesson in courtesy, Miss Manners' good manners. He is going to the deepest core of our relationship with God. God's love is not attached to any conditions. God's love is absolute and unqualified. It is there for us if we can accept it as a gift, not a reward for being good.

Sound easy? Kermit the Frog would probably differ.

Third Sunday in Lent - March 23, 2014

For those who do not believe, and for those who have lost their faith, that they may receive the light of the Gospel, we pray to you, O Lord.  -Prayers of the People, Form V, BCP p. 390

Architecture meets environmentalism in houses that rotate to take full advantage of the sun's rays. Now highly-developed, the technology results in homes that generate up to five times the energy they consume. The approach makes great sense spiritually as well as architecturally. Rather than lamenting a loss of light-an awareness of God-why can't we discipline ourselves to seek that light, to turn continually so that we remain keenly aware of God's presence?

A person who chooses to be a disciple of Christ proclaims a willingness to seek light rather than curse the darkness. We have to realize, though, that every human being faces difficult and dark times when it seems impossible to find the light. Enduring such times does not mean we are unfaithful; it simply means that we are human.

In the Prayers of the People, we pray "for those who do not yet believe, and for those who have lost their faith, that they may receive the light of the Gospel." Such prayers are not just offered for those who cannot muster the strength to seek God; they apply to each one of us. In any given moment, when our weakness, despair, or fear have blocked the light, we might be among those who lack belief or who have lost their faith. We pray for the strength and the faith to help others when their faith weakens, and we hope that others will pray for us and help us when our own faith falters.

As disciples of Christ, we are dwelling places for the most high God. But the corners and recesses of our modest dwelling places cannot receive that holy light without our concerted and faithful efforts to turn, continually, toward it.

Lord, let every person we meet see that our hearts are turned to you.

From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

March 22, 2014

O God, the source of eternal light: Shed forth your unending day upon us who watch for you.  

-Collect for Saturdays, BCP p. 123

I love this time of year, when we approach Daylight Savings Time again.  While we adjust clocks and speak of the event as a "time change," I long for it because of the light change. We human beings to to great lengths to extend the day when possible and to light the darkness when it ends.

In the service of Evening Prayer, we ask God to "Shed forth your unending day upon us who watch for you." Nightime, after all, can bring uncertainty, nameless fear, and anxiety. But in spiritual terms as well as chronological systems, the change we seek fits more into the category of light change than time change.  We do not necessarily want to wish away the hours between dusk and dawn; we simply want to navigate those hours without fear.

The request in our prayers for "unending day" speaks of the eternal.  We need to be reminded that God remains with us always, in darkness and in light. We need to be reminded that the power of God cannot be vanquished or even diminished by forces pressuring us here on earth. So we long not for unending physical light, but a constant awareness that God is here.

God created our souls to experience the eternal, even in the midst of the temporal. When we ask for God's "unending day," we are seeking the strength to weather life's challenges and to help others see light in darkness. We don't want longer days to give us more time; we want them so we can experience more light. If we can practice focusing on the external over the temporal during Lent and all of life's seasons, we live in God's unending day. And we lead those around us to more than a time change --to a light change.

Lord Jesus Christ, be our light in the darkness.

-From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

March 21, 2014

Mark 4:35-41
35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ 36And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ 39He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ 41And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’

The crises of life are often compared to stormy seas. They come upon us whether we like it or not. Terrifying us, knocking us about, threatening to destroy our stability and security. We ask ourselves “How long will this last? Can we survive? That’s how a storm at sea would be for most of us. For Jesus, it was a chance to take a break from the crowd and rest.

In Mark’s story we are told that the disciples were terrified that the storm would break up the boat and everyone would drown. But Jesus was asleep on a cushion, apparently unaware of the pending doom. They wake him up, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" And Jesus quiets the storm with a word, but then he chides the disciples: "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

Jesus has power over the storms of life, experiences them alongside us, loves us, saves us and wants us to trust him more than we do. Storms don’t worry Jesus. He’s right there with us during them, but he’s perfectly calm about them. He isn’t terrified; he isn’t impatient; he isn’t worried. In fact, he’s so calm, he’s asleep. To us, he seems to be asleep at the switch. We wonder why on earth he doesn’t get up and do something. We start to wonder whether he even knows the trouble we’re in. Whether he cares. Whether he even can do anything about it. Whether he’s really all he’s cracked up to be.

Like the disciples, we believe he’s with us. In their case, they could actually see him lying there asleep. We don’t have that luxury. We believe he’s there, but most of the time he seems just as asleep as he was during the storm that day on the Sea of Galilee.

Jesus was just as much in control, and the disciples were just as safe in his hands, while he was asleep as while he was awake. Most of the time, life seems like a relentless voyage from one storm to the next. But we can take heart in knowing that Jesus isn’t scared, and he isn’t depressed. He might be asleep, or he might not be, but either way, like the song says, "He’s got the whole world in his hands." Even if he doesn’t wake up and quiet the storm, we’re safe with him.

March 20, 2014

Eucharistic Readings: Psalm 1, Jeremiah 17: 5-10, Luke 16: 19-31

Today’s Eucharistic readings brought to mind a conversation that I had recently with a fellow mother of elementary school aged children.  We were discussing one of our greatest parenting challenges, letting go of the control that we once had over our children.  Now that our children spend more time in school and extracurricular activities than with us, we can no longer protect them from injury, emotional and physical, or restrict their exposure to ideas and mass media the way we once did.   But, fortunately as my very wise friend reminded me, unlike us, God is always there to watch out for our children.

As I send my children off into the wild worlds of Davis Hill Elementary School and Holden Youth Soccer, I am reassured by the words of Jeremiah 17 which state:

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,

whose trust is the Lord.

They shall be like a tree planted by water,

sending out its roots by the stream.

It shall not fear when heat comes,

and its leaves shall stay green;

In the year of drought it is not anxious

and it does not cease to bear fruit.

I know that if I strive for the faith described in Psalm 1 and Luke 16 in the rewards of trusting God, I can relieve myself of much of the worry of being a parent and allow my children to experience life for themselves.

I will not try act as if trusting the well-being of your children to God is an easy task, for it is not.  When I find myself overwhelmed by the uncertainty and fears of parenting, I turn to one of the many treasures in my personal Book of Common Prayer, the Prayer for Young Persons.  This prayer, which can be found on page 829 in the Book of Common Prayer, asks God for help for children “growing up in an unsteady and confusing world” and strengthens my sense of peace and hope in God’s care for my own children.

Nicole McGurin