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

March 19, 2014

It is certainly lovely to contemplate the Parable of the Sower – to think about planting seeds and working the soil and having something grow – in these dreary waning days of winter! 

The Parable of the Sower is the first of several parables related by Mark.  Jesus tells of a man sowing seeds, casting them in handfuls as he walked along.  The seeds fell on several different surfaces with varying degrees of success.  Some were strewn along a path and eaten up by birds; some could not grow deep roots because they were in shallow, rocky ground and thus withered away; some got caught up in thorns and any growth was choked before it could bear fruit; but some seed fell on good soil and yielded a good crop “thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.” 

Jesus told this story (from a boat!) to a large crowd that had gathered to hear him speak.  When the crowd dispersed, alone with the disciples and a few other followers, he explained the purpose of his parables, as well as the specific meaning of the Parable of the Sower.  Jesus, of course, is the Sower, and he is sowing the word.  And like the seed sown on different surfaces, the word will be heard by different people with varying degrees of success.  Some will turn a deaf ear; some will be ‘fair weather friends’ who lose faith when things go wrong; some will be too interested in material gain and be distracted; and some will “hear the word and accept it and bear fruit.”

 The Parable of the Sower is also a very fitting reading to consider for Lent, when we take a step back and reflect on our own personal spiritual journey.  There are obvious questions to ask: “What kind of soil am I?” “What about the soil of the people around me?”  “Can I ever change my rocky ground to good soil?”

If you really stop to think about it, you might be surprised by the answers you come up with.  I’d like to think I’m pretty good soil, most of the time; but I certainly recognize myself in the other categories as well.

The good news is that it’s not as cut and dried as in the parable.  If you’re on a bad path, the Sower can show you a better one.  If things are rocky for you right now, the Sower is with you to help remove those rocks, turn over the dirt and try again.  If you are stuck in some thorns, the Sower can cut those thorns back and pull you out.  And if you are blessed enough to be good soil from the start, then the Sower will help you keep it that way, “thirty and sixty and a hundredfold.”

March 18, 2014

Psalm 62:5 “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.”  

Again, I am drawn to words about silence.  The idea of my soul waiting in silence for God makes me think about the busyness in my life and those around me. I signed up for the fall book study that Karen did online. I managed to read one chapter. For the Lenten book study I bought the book and haven’t yet cracked it open. I’m not going to the Lenten Quiet day; too busy. But when I am “too busy” is just when I should go; just what my soul wants and needs.

A long time ago I decided I was not going to give things up for Lent. For me, giving up chocolate doesn’t add meaning to Lent. What does work for me is doing something; daily readings at breakfast usually work best. I’ve been pretty faithful with the readings this year. It’s usual a quick read, a “hmm, that was interesting” and then getting on with my day. As I write this, I think it’s time to add another layer to the readings, to sit for 5 minutes in silence, to let the words sink in, not mull them over and decide what they mean to me or how I can incorporate the “theme” into my life, but just sit in silence and see what happens. In the words of the Collect: “Grant us so to hear, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them”.

- Laura Caswell

March 17, 2014

AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65 
Gen. 41:46-57; 1 Cor. 4:8-20(21); Mark 3:7-19a

The readings appointed for today are a good example of how the Word can comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.  In Genesis, Joseph is recognizing that God has made him ‘fruitful in the land of (his) misfortunes.’  In the Psalms, David is hiding from his enemies, and is comforted by God’s presence.  In Mark, people crowd around Jesus to be healed.  And when there are too many, Jesus multiplies his availability by choosing apostles.  But 1 Corinthians is different. The Corinthians already have all they want, and they are being admonished.

The use of the word “admonish” implies that Paul is warning us, “especially in a gentle, earnest, or solicitous manner.”  He’s not trying to be harsh or critical; he does not want to shame us.  He is appealing to God’s beloved people.  And what is his appeal?  To be wary of arrogance.  (Tough word, isn’t it?  Arrogance.  Now, that would be a good thing to give up for Lent.)  It seems to me that when arrogance takes hold, we don’t feel the need to seek.  We’re not hungry, we’re not sick, we’re not afraid.  We’re good, thanks.  We’ve got this. 

This is when Paul’s warning is for us.  This is when we are in danger of turning away and relying on our own resources.  This is when we become lost.  This is when habits born out of need are set aside.  We begin to feel removed and distant.  We go through the motions without engaging our hearts and minds.  It’s hard to get connected again, and we forget.

Lent is a good time to remember.  “Re-member” and reconnect with God, and with the “saints” who have been placed around you, even if all is well right now.  Remember the peace you felt in God’s presence when you were hungry, sick, or afraid.  Remember that, when the destroying storms came, as they did for David in Psalm 57, you were able to say, “Most High, when I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” 

~Sue Bastardo

Second Sunday in Lent - March 16, 2014

Fountain of life and source of all goodness, you made all things and fill them with your blessing; you created them to rejoice in the splendor of your radiance.  -Eucharistic Prayer D, BCP p. 373

Near my office, I watched the construction of a new bank building. After the preliminary framing, the first part of the building constructed was the bank's vault. It was clear from the very beginning that the vault represented the essence of the building's purpose.

In our spiritual lives, we rarely have the luxury of starting from scratch, of determining the core of what we do so that everything else can be built around it. Our lives grow in many directions, stretched thin by conflicting priorities, demands, and relationships. Rather than beginning with the vault, most of us build and fill countless other aspects of life and then try to place God in the center.

Eucharistic Prayer D offers a statement of the vault of Christian faith, the essence of what we do in our faith lives. In the prayer, we say, "Fountain of life and source of all goodness, you made all things and fill them with your blessing." We go on to say, "You created them to rejoice in the splendor of your radiance."

Those words tell us that God alone should be found in the innermost vault, the heart of the disciple. Remembering God as the "fountain of life and source of all goodness" means that God remains at the center of life. No earthly harm can come to a person whose life flows from the knowledge and love of God in Christ.

Today, and every day of our lives, even the most faithful and disciplined follower of Jesus Christ will navigate a life filled with demands. But we can fully and passionately seek God armed with this key guideline: We have to remember to build the vault first.

God, let all priorities in our lives flow from the fountain of your goodness.


From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

March 15, 2014

In past meditations, I have looked at the Old or New Testament Scriptures to find some new insight into an old story.  This time, the Psalms came through with a message so simple and clear that it speaks for itself.   The Psalm is 139, and the message from God is "I am always with you - in the brightest light, and in your darkest hour."   Peace be with you.

7)  Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
8)  If  ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
9)  If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
10)  even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
11)  If I say, 'Surely the darkness shall cover me, 
and the light around me become night',
12)  even the darkness is not dark to you:
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

- Ruth Webb

March 14, 2014

In today’s day’s Eucharistic Reading from the Gospels, Matthew 5:20 – 26, I see my life “B.C.”   “Before Christ” brought me “back to my Baptism” I often wondered, “How good was good enough?” Not having been well instructed in scripture as a youngster, especially in the aspects of in the efficacy of Christ’s atonement and God’s grace, I struggled because I believed God was someone whom I never could please.  

 

In those days, this passage from Matthew didn’t help. It seemed to echo the fact that I best be right not only with God but with all humanity. In the day to day teenage angst of those times, it seemed that I was always at odds with someone:  parents, siblings, friends, coaches, as well as some of those in the political structure of the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. I could never put everything right with my “brother” (or sister) before I approached a worship service on a Sunday. It seemed inevitable that I would reject this type of faith, a faith that seemed to say, you can “never be good enough”, out of shear frustration.  Yet something held me; enabled me to keep seeking. I hear that same song of grace that encourages me to search, coming from today’s Eucharistic Readings in Psalm 130:

³ If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,
Lord, who could stand?
⁴ But there is forgiveness with you,
so that you may be revered.

Then, in my twenties, the Holy Spirit’s “something” that kept me seeking, allowed me to get a taste of that grace. The Spirit gave me just enough of understanding that my sins were forgiven in the atonement and dispersed the worst of the dense of the fog regarding who God is in my mind. Somehow, I experienced the same expression of God’s grace that held me to Him when I was a four year old and knew, that “Jesus loves me, this I know.  For the Bible tells me so…..” 

Yet, in these readings, I am grateful to be reminded of the infinite reaches of God’s grace and Christ’s sacrifice. I see how extensive and how encompassing the Law really was in its revelation of what constituted sin. It prepares me for a greater celebration, with an attitude of gratitude, as I approach the superlative atonement on Good Friday and the joys of the Resurrection. I see “the forecast” of things to come in Eastertide and beyond as Psalm 130 concludes:

⁷ O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
and with him is great power to redeem.
⁸ It is he who will redeem Israel
from all its iniquities.

March 13, 2014

Genesis 39:1-23

The reading from Genesis for today is part of the story of Joseph. He was that young man that was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, and arrived in Egypt, and eventually saved his family from famine. OK, so that is really over simplified, but we are only dealing with the portion of the story for today. Joseph has made it to Egypt. He is in the “employ” of Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh, the captain of the guard, and has been given responsibility for everything that is his masters. This is because Potiphar noticed that the Lord made prosper everything in Joseph's hands. Whatever Joseph did, he did knowing that the Lord was watching him and watching out for him. No matter what Joseph did, he did it with faith in God, and according to God's law. When Potiphar's wife tried to get Joseph to betray his master, he would not. So she accused him and he was sent to prison.  In prison the same situation happens. The chief jailer recognizes the same thing about Joseph that Potiphar had. The chief jailer paid no heed to anything that was in Joseph’s care, because the Lord was with him; and whatever he did, the Lord made it prosper.  Joseph once again ends up with privileges and responsibilities because of his faith in action. This is all God asks of any of us, live every day as if God was watching and taking notes, because he is.  Live our lives according to God's law and the Lord will be with us too.

March 12, 2014

Psalm 119: 49-72, Psalm 49, [53],  Gen.  37:25-36, 1 Cor. 2:1-13, Mark 1:29-45

1 Hear this, all you peoples; give ear, all inhabitants of the world, 2 both low and high, rich and poor together. 3 My mouth shall speak wisdom;  the meditation of my heart shall be understanding. 4 I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the harp. . .   

¹²Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish.  - Psalm 49

I’ve never been a fan of pomp. But I do like puzzles, proverbs and psalms.  I love the confidence of the Psalmist at the opening of Psalm 49, this proclamation, all commands and future tenses, “Hear this… give ear... My mouth shall speak wisdom…” (I’d like to try and start all my work email correspondence that way!)  But what is the Psalmist declaiming? Actually, declaiming would by definition be pompous. So what is the Psalmist trying to teach us, inviting us to hear? What does it mean to solve one’s riddle to the music of the harp?  And why does the Psalmist circle back to this refrain in the form of a harsh warning: “Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish”?  Can you hear me now?

Signing on to write a meditation for the St. Francis blog is always a blessing and a challenge: I welcome the opportunity to “incline my ear to a proverb”… or psalm or Gospel, but I'm not always sure how to “solve my riddle.”  (Maybe I need a harp?) We read and search for insights, connections, threads.  And sometimes I find myself drawn to a section of a reading but unsure of what to make of all of it.  I guess the main thread I'm following is how to access spiritual wisdom.  Both Psalm 49 and Paul’s letter to the Corinthians speak to the power of meditation and the insufficiency of words.  The Psalmist in Psalm 49 is clearly reminding listeners of their mortality, especially the rich (read selfish and pompous in this context) who mindlessly, greedily hoard their worldly goods and all for naught as they’ll just die like animals anyway. (Yes, I know I said earlier how I like proverbs, riddles and psalms but I have trouble sometimes with the strong retribution vibe, of reckoning or evening the score in the Psalms.  Woe to them, they’ll get theirs and all that.)  So I remain poised, inclining my ear to this song, reflecting on what and where our “treasure” is actually, but put off  by how much time is spent in the Psalm reassuring readers that the rich who are greedy will get theirs.  To me the season of Lent isn’t about judging others and gloating when the “wicked” get punished, but more of a call to turn inward.  I remember Rich writing a few years back about how Lent was the time to reflect, see the log in our own eye and not just the speck in our brother’s (Mathew 7:3).  So I guess I have to cast myself in this Psalm as someone is off course and needs reminding to turn toward God and remember where my treasure is. I have to own it … and let it go, as Randy has said elsewhere.

I have been trying to gear myself up for Lent to reflect and be intentional, for myself, my family and in my community/ies to take the time to reconnect with what matters so that “meditation[s ] of my heart shall be understanding” as the Psalmist promises. I’m (still) searching for spiritual wisdom,  still searching for the words and praying that I, that we all have the spirit from God to become more spiritual, spirit filled,  less preoccupied by consumer culture and the heavy burdens that Randy has described. We hope to be more liberated and focused on what truly matters during Lent.  It always is a leap of faith to imagine oneself able to speak of spiritual things in words taught by the spirit.  That’s another riddle I’m “inclining my ear to” at the close of Paul’s letter, these “words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit.” 

For what human being knows what is truly human except the human spirit that is within? So also no one comprehends what is truly God’s except the Spirit of God.

 ¹²Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God. ¹³And we speak of these things in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual things to those who are spiritual.^*

1 Cor. 2:1-13

 -Kathleen Suchenski

March 11, 2014

 16 As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake—for they were fishermen. ¹⁷And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you fish for people.’ ¹⁸And immediately they left their nets and followed him. ¹⁹As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. ²⁰Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.  Mark 1:16-20

The Jesus Boat

I love archeology, so I was surprised and delighted to learn that several years ago, during a drought on the Sea of Galilee, a boat dubbed The Jesus Boat was unearthed at the bottom of the lake.  Is this the boat that Jesus actually rode in? While there is no evidence to prove that conclusively, we do know that it is dated from the 1^st century, and is the size and kind that was used for fishing during Jesus’ time.

Some might ask, “Does the Jesus Boat really matter?  Isn’t the story a matter of faith, after all?”  

And to me, the answer is “Yes and yes.”

Isn’t it lucky to live in a time where we can not only be surrounded by the important stories of the life of Jesus that have come down to us through the centuries, but also be presented with concrete historical objects that amplify the story?  I think Robin Williams is right when he reminds us that number seven of the Top Ten Reasons To Be Episcopalian is that we don’t have to check our intellects at the door.

I spent time recently at a museum of natural history, where I was very much sensitized and intrigued by seeing and touching extant artifacts of dinosaurs and fossils.  Today, I am exploring a centuries-old fish story and pondering that often asked question, “How quickly would I throw down my nets if asked to?”  I’ll take a look at the Jesus Boat information at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sea_of_Galilee_Boat to explore a wonderful concrete object that exemplifies this story.

March 10, 2014

In the Gospel, we read about Jesus’ baptism by John in the Jordan. When we celebrate baptism (as we did just a couple weeks ago at St. Francis), we say, “Grant, O Lord, that all who are baptized into the death 
of Jesus Christ your Son may live in the power of his
 resurrection and look for him to come again in glory; who 
lives and reigns now and forever. Amen.”

 

I’m wondering, was Jesus baptized into his own death? When he came out of the water, was that his first resurrection? If so, we know there’s another Big One to come (after these forty days of Lent). So, how many little ones might there be in between?

 

How many times can we be reborn into new life? To die to old ways? To lay down our baggage, as Randy says. To take a load off. To let it go.

 

We start this season with ashes and hear, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” We are reminded of our deaths. Perhaps we should also be reminded of the possibility for rebirth.

 

Fire and water:

Fire to create ashes,

Water to baptize.

And if the Spirit drives us into the wilderness and the temptations come (they always do), and we stumble (we always do), we can still choose to live in the hope of the resurrection(s), big and small.

 

Cynthia

First Sunday in Lent - March 9, 2014

Gracious Father, we pray for your holy catholic church....Where it is corrupt, purify it; where it is in error, direct it; where in any thing it is amiss, reform it. Where it is right, strengthen it.  - Prayer for the Church, BCP p. 816

Health-conscious consumers now demand fuller disclosure about calorie counts and other nutrition information on foods.  Restaurants often resist providing this, fearing it could cost them customers.

For us as disciples, Lent offers the perfect time to ask what truly feeds us-physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  Are we being fed by God or by religion? Have our spiritual lives become so familiar and routine that they no long nourish us in healthy, vibrant ways?

The traditional approach of practicing spiritual discipline during Lent can help us identify which habits work and which do not. Giving something up may free time, energy, and focus in a surprising way. It may help us discover how much of ourselves we have invested in small, nonproductive habits.

We also may not realize that our well-intentioned spiritual practices no longer work to draw us nearer to God. Taking on a new or renewed spiritual discipline during Lent may teach us fresh and powerful ways of seeking and seeing God. We may find something previously unrecognized or untried that our souls have craved all along.

In our Prayer for the Church, we ask God to correct the church when it is wrong and strengthen it when it is right.  Lent can help each of us take those same steps. Changing our ways of seeking God-whether by giving something up or taking something on-can bump us out of our comfort zones and bring fresh insight and energy. Such changes, taken on for this brief season, can teach us exactly what feeds us in body, mind, and soul. And Lent may be the ideal time to decide if the cost of our spiritual practices is greater than the nourishment they provide.

Loving God, help us use this season to renew our practices of faith.

From Disciples on the Way by Carol Mead

March 8, 2014

I guess I’m not an expert on what’s “appropriate” for Lenten meditation, BUT I was struck by the grace of our God that seems woven throughout today’s readings.  Just to pick up two threads:

 

From Ezekial 39:

25 Therefore, thus says the Lord God: Now I will restore the fortunes of Jacob, and have mercy on the whole house of Israel; and I will be jealous for my holy name. ²⁶They shall forget^* their shame, and all the treachery they have practised against me, when they live securely in their land with no one to make them afraid, ²⁷… ²⁹and I will never again hide my face from them, when I pour out my spirit upon the house of Israel, says the Lord God.

 

The peace of forgetting my shame… truly a joy that I do not merit.  Forgetting my shame: sounds easy, feels hard.  Feels impossible to earn “forgetfulness”; feels impossible to work myself up to forget, whatever I do it seems just to twist me back to thinking about my shame again.  My sin, I suppose.  How to accept this graceful gift of forgetfulness? 

 

Maybe Paul’s words for today are a nudge for me along this path.

 

From Phillippians 4

…for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. ¹²I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. ¹³I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

 

Just be content with what I have？  Sounds so easy, sounds like one of those Lenten suggestions, you know, Matthew 11 stuff:  “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light”.  Sounds so easy; feels so impossible.  Gotta remember that graceful bit about “through him who strengthens me”. 

 

Grace: I’m know it’s there, woven in the fabric of the Lent season, woven in the fabric of creation.  Wonderful stuff, the grace of God.  Is there an easy way for me to respond?  Like one of our Saint Francis Prayer Shawls, maybe all I need to do is wrap it around my shoulders.

                                                Will Ames

March 7, 2014

"...get yourselves a new heart and a new spirit! Why will you die, O house of Israel?"  Ezekiel 18:31b

Ezekiel makes it sound as if our getting new hearts and new spirits is a matter of life and death. If this prophet is right, then how do we set about changing our hearts and spirits in so vitally an important way?  We don’t.   Richard Rohr, founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico, has said we cannot “convert ourselves; we get converted. We have to settle in the world in such a way that circumstances, reality, can get at us."

Rohr firmly believes that the deepest changes we experience in our hearts and spirits come about not because of resolutions to which we “stick” or practices to which we adhere. New hearts and new spirits are not the fruit of human discipline and determination but of God’s grace. We do not make new hearts and new spirits for ourselves - we are given them.

Mary of Nazareth did not go to a life coach and set as a goal becoming the mother of the Messiah. That life-changing event happened to her, and she went with it. Gradually her heart and spirit were reshaped, and all along the way, she learned the meaning of what was happening to her.

The thing about God’s grace is that we either go with the flow of it or resist it. The gifts of grace God sends us are, well, gifts, that come our way.

Like all gifts we receive, initially we may love or dislike them or prefer we had been given something else. We might wish we had been given a gift certificate or a check so we could have gotten something we would choose. God seems to prefer selecting our gifts - giving us what we most need.

God sends them daily, but Rohr cautions us that we will not notice or receive them if we prefer to keep circumstances, reality, at bay. He says the gifts are actually within our reality. We can exert great effort to keep away from situations or people we prefer to avoid because they are too irritating, challenging, or scary. We can try to keep daily life safe, predictable, comfortable. However, sometimes, in spite of our best efforts, we just cannot keep other people or circumstances under our control. God may seem like an insistent person who puts his foot in the door, preventing our closing it.

The poet Francis Thompson compared God to a persistent hound dog that has our scent and keeps seeking us.  Grace happens when we just cannot manage to fend it off. It forces its way in, in spite of our best-laid plans. Grace is like a visit by a thief, it comes at a time we least expect, when we are unprepared and lulled into a kind of slumber. Grace, though it may seem to bring upset and even loss is not primarily a deprivation but an enrichment - for the world - and us at the deepest level.   One translation of Ezekiel says “...get for yourselves a new heart and a new way of thinking.” This Lent our new hearts and new ways of thinking might best be “gotten” not by our arranging for them but by our receiving who and what God puts in our circumstances.

The Rev. Janice Schuyler

March 6, 2014

Journey with Jesus

Jesus calls us, “Come follow me”. As we take our first step we begin our Journey with Jesus. From Ash Wednesday to Easter the people of St. Francis will be on a journey.  We are headed for Jerusalem, the cross of Jesus, and the Resurrection. As we travel we are invited to unpack all of the stuff we have placed in our backpack. We are weighted down with all the regrets, tantrums, doubts, fears, sins, and hateful thoughts. We need to travel light. On this journey we need to be nimble, steady, standing upright and looking ahead; not bent over from the burden of our own stuff.

Strange how accustomed we become to the load we carry. Our stuff becomes so familiar we believe it defines us. After a while we may not realize how bent-over we are.  Our Journey with Jesus during these forty days of Lent is one which provides us an opportunity to take a load off. Stop, breath, pray, and acknowledge your stuff.  Own it.  Let it go.  Forgive it.

 

Our Lenten Journey with Jesus is one filled with reflection and repentance. It is a journey which will find us meeting our self “coming and going”.  The good news is the Holy Spirit guides us along the path so we can follow the leader. Jesus is ahead of us. We follow, “looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith”, as it says in Hebrews. Come, answer the Call; join the parade of saints who are on the journey. Take one step at a time and you will find your way.

Peace,   

Randy Wilburn