Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Readings:  Psalms 72, 119:73-96, Genesis 42:18-28, 1 Corinthians 5:5-9—6:8, Mark 4:1-20

The “ad” in early February proclaimed: “They’ve Arrived: The Vegetable and Flower Seeds are Here!” Nothing new here; it happens every year! But it set me thinking that Lent shares this proclamation every year and there is something new here. The Seeds of Lent Have Arrived: They’re Here!   All of today’s readings share the seeds of Understanding, Steadfast Love, Mercy, Faithfulness, Sincerity, Truth, Healing, Sowing the seeds on Good Ground.  

Lent offers us each the opportunity to “start with nothing but a seed,” on Ash Wednesday ~ “Remember that you are dust….” And to slowly make our way to “everything” on Easter Day when the seeds that we nurtured through Lent help us, and the whole Church, proclaim to the World, “I am the Resurrection and The Life.” Today’s readings provide the “G.P.S.” as to how to “get there.” Like the arrival of the packaged seeds, Lent’s seeds are accompanied by promise, hope, hard work and faith.  

Paul Rogers, Worcester County’s favorite horticulturist, wrote: “Sowing seeds has its rewards,” but he advises that the soil must be “free of weeds” that keep the seeds from maturing.  Uh, oh!  that starts coming “close to home” with me ~ how about you? Before I can plant the “Seeds of Lent,” as listed above, I’ve got some work to do “cleaning out some weeds” that have been allowed to grow unattended. Lent gives each of us the challenge to replace those weeds by asking God each day to help us identify the weeds and replace them with the Seeds of God’s Love and Forgiveness.  Lent is a journey, much like the journey of the seeds we plant and nurture. And, like each seed, the journey is both personal and part of something larger than ourselves. Its beauty is often proclaimed as it joins with other seeds in a community of faith, or in a beautiful garden of color or lush-looking vegetables.  

In the Gospel of Mark, Chapter 4:1-20, Jesus gives us the parable of “The Sower” ~ a passage familiar to many of us.  Jesus says:  “Listen!” And He goes on to list all the reasons why some seeds never quite make it to full growth.  But, He concludes with: “Other seed fell into the good soil and brought forth grain, growing up and increasing and yielding thirty to sixty and a hundredfold.  Let anyone with ears to hear listen!” May Easter Day find us all in a place where we have “listened” and say with the psalmist in Psalm 72:  “…May there be abundance of grain in the land; may it wave on the tops of the mountains; and may its fruit be like Lebanon; and may people blossom in the cities (and towns) like the grass of the field……Blessed be the Lord; the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things.”  Happy Planting!

(Lorraine Hennigar)

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Hear my cry, O God;

listen to my prayer.

From the end of the earth I call to you,

when my heart is faint. (Psalm 61: 1-2a)

It seems that the psalmist is describing the only time when many people call out to God; from the end of the earth...when my heart is faint...  Now I'm not saying that we should not cry to Him at those times when we feel the most desperate, that is a great time to call.  Lent is the time that Jesus went to the wilderness, so he knows what it is like for us when we get to that point in our lives that we feel like we are in a wilderness, at the end of our rope, or “the end of the earth”.  It is very comforting to know that when we feel that disconnected, or helpless, God can and will hear us. So CRY OUT!  Then get quiet and listen.  If you keep crying out you might miss the answer.
 

We don't need to wait for that oh-so-desperate time though.  We should call out to God at any and all times.  God is just as close and ready to hear us at any time or place in our lives.  I don't think I have ever been at a point that God could not have been able to make it even better.  But most of us don't think about calling on God when things are running smoothly.  Those “normal” days when nothing really goes wrong, or nothing spectacularly good happens.  Those are the days that we should really call out to God.  Those are the days that we could be doing some work for God.  Those are the days that we could fit in the extra kind word or deed to a co-worker, or a complete stranger.  Maybe they are crying out, and you are their answer.  I taught Confirmation for a few years.  One of the things that I always told the young people in my classes was, that God can use each of us at any time.  Every one of us may not feel like we are doing something “as big as” some one else, or as “important” as some one else.  I would explain that their particular job from God could be to smile at some one they walk past.  That person could be having a bad day, and seeing you smile at them might be just that little lift they need to see things are not all that bad, and end up feeling better.
 

So know that God can and will hear you when you cry out from where ever you are.  Then be still and listen, or watch, for the answer.  While you are crying out, or waiting for your answer, see if you might be someone else's answer to their cry.

(Jeff Heath)

Monday, March 5, 2012

Genesis 41: 46-57; Psalm 56

I started out prepping for this meditation the way I've done many times before: read the readings, wait to hear something pop out at me, ponder it, write.  In the past this has been a very smooth process (yes, Rich, that's why I keep signing up to write again and again).  This time it wasn't easy at all.

As I read the readings for 3/5, I was immediately struck by the phrase in Psalm 56 "O Most High, when I am afraid, I put my trust in you…"  Then I read Genesis and heard the familiar story about Joseph and how his visions had helped the Pharaoh and Egyptians prepare for the famine, reading the last line "…because the famine became severe throughout the world".  The themes of fear, faith and trust echoed in my head.

I tried looking at this juxtaposition from every possible angle.  I looked at how fear and faith cannot coexist, and was left staring at the question, "How do we choose faith?"  Then I was further caught up in the mire when I tried to figure out how we might trust when so much of our worldly existence leaves us prey to fear…and when the chasm between fear and faith might sometimes feel too wide to leap across…and so on.  I spent days sitting with the laptop, waiting for inspiration, coming up short.  I got so frustrated at one point, realizing the days are ticking away and fearing I'd miss the boat completely, that I considered bailing before it got too late.

Then something wonderful happened.

I decided to get out and walk my dogs this morning (2/29) for the first time in a while.  As I stepped out the door, I was greeted by beautiful falling snow, and the only sound I heard was the joyful songs of the birds who've returned after winter.  It was a golden moment.  I was immediately reminded of God's presence, the presence I know and trust and where I place my faith, and for that moment I felt no fear.  I continued on my walk and realized what a gift it gives me, to disconnect from all things electronic, to get a break from the engaging ever-presence of my delightful 7 year old, to leave behind the dishes in the sink and the chores of the morning which beckon me…I let my mind be clear, and my eyes and ears and heart completely open.

It's kind of hard not to kick myself for not including such a revitalizing ritual into my daily life.  But then again, we are in the midst of Lent, the time where we live in the wilderness, and without such a frustrating, difficult time we can't see the lessons life has to teach.  This morning, I'm reminded of the universality of human-ness, flaws and all, while being acutely aware of the sweet small moments we encounter inviting us closer to the arms of God, which are as natural as snow and as predictable as birds returning after winter.

(Lori Churchill)

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Readings: Genesis 41:14-45, Psalms 24, 29, 8, 84, Romans 6:3-14, John 5:19-24

 

Today we read about Joseph in the book Genesis: he is a prototype of Jesus. The brothers of Joseph hate his dreams and want to kill him. The religious leaders of Jesus’ people fear his ministry and want Rome to kill him. Joseph moves from being the especially loved son of his father to a despised brother and then to a falsely accused person thrown into the pit by his Egyptian master Potiphar. Jesus, the beloved son of his Father, is thrown into the pit of unjust arrest, brutality by his Roman guards, crucifixion and the dark tomb.

 

Joseph is taken from the pit into which his brothers threw him when one brother, Reuben, intercedes to save his life. Later Joseph is lifted from another pit when God helps him interpret Pharaoh’s dreams. This wins Joseph his freedom and ultimately gains him a place of honor. 

 

In Scripture the pit is a place of darkness, abandonment, and often despair. Psalm 88: 4,5,19 “I am counted among those who go down to the pit; I have become like one who has no strength. My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me, and darkness is my only companion.”

 

We may have found ourselves at difficult times in our lives. Looking back, we may remember who helped us out of its darkness into a place of light and hope. What groups of people or individuals do we know who may be at the bottom of a dark pit? How might we be present to them or even help them move from their distress?

 

(Janice M. Schuyler)

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Readings: Psalms 55, 138,139; Gen 41:1-13; 1 Cor. 41-7; Mark 2:23- 3:6

A Runaway Bunny

¹ O Lord, you have searched me and known me… ⁷ Where can I go from your spirit?...Or where can I flee from your presence? –Psalm 139

A few years ago, returning to Christianity after a thirty-year absence, and new to St. Francis, I sat listening to a sermon on 139^th Psalm. I had never read the Psalms before, and I was finding them difficult to process. But I was totally taken aback when God’s ever-present and all-knowing love in the psalm was compared to the loving mother rabbit in Margaret Wise Brown’s children’s classic The Runaway Bunny.

In my twenty-something years as a primary school teacher, I had read that particular book to my students dozens of times.  But I never once connected it with God.  Of course, we had talked about the cause and effect elements in the text, and enjoyed the gentle fanciful illustrations, but the theology of The Runaway Bunny? I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

I could hardly wait to get into my classroom the next morning and get the book out. And sure enough, there it was. Margaret Wise Brown had translated the 139^th Psalm into “mother and baby bunny”.  Just like us, the bunny experimented and explored the wide world. And, just like God, the ever-present mother rabbit adapted herself to the needs of her bunny, always ready for a joyful homecoming.

I think of that Sunday morning each time I read the The Runaway Bunny to my students, and each time I hear the 139^th Psalm.  Both theological genres make me smile.  So, this Lent, I’ll depart from my usual thoughts on the meaning of Greek words and recent archeological finds related to the Bible.  Instead, I’ll offer a link to a reading of The Runaway Bunny on You Tube.

It’s seems to me that a “theological bunny break” can only be helpful thing! 

Click here to watch 

(Julie Mankowsky)

Friday, March 2, 2012

Mark 2:13-22 contains the well-known story of Jesus sitting down to eat with Levi and various other tax collectors and sinners.  When the Pharisees saw this, they were shocked, and asked the disciples why he would do such a thing.  Jesus overheard them and responded with the following familiar explanation: ‘Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.’

This is one aspect of the reading - Jesus reminding the Holier-Than-Thou crowd that God is not impressed by their smug self-righteousness.  The first step in healing is admitting you have a problem, and so those who consider themselves righteous are in fact distancing themselves from God more-so than those who know they are sinners and ask for forgiveness.

But there’s another thread to this reading that I find interesting, and this time Jesus’ analogies are a bit more obscure (at least to our modern way of thinking).  When asked why his disciples were not fasting while the Pharises were, Jesus tells them that, as it would be inappropriate for wedding guests to fast while the bridegroom is present, so too is it inappropriate for the disciples to fast with Jesus in their midst.  But he goes on, saying  ‘No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak; otherwise, the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.’

I had to look this one up.  The metaphors made sense, and to bring the idea into the modern world you could even come up with a few new ones: You don’t put chrome rims and expensive tires on a 1980 Buick with 180,000 miles on it; You don’t try to load Apple’s iOS on a flip-phone. Sure, I got the metaphors... but I didn’t understand them.  What was Jesus really saying? 

Fortunately, Biblical scholarship was only a few clicks away, and it seems pretty obvious now after a little research.  What Jesus is telling us is that things are changing.  The old rules don’t apply anymore because there is a New Covenant.  Those who pride themselves on being righteous must step to the back of the line. Those who accept Christ into their lives and humbly ask forgiveness for their sins will receive it.  Whoever wishes to be first must be a servant.  The Prodigal Son is welcomed home, and the meek shall inherit the Earth.  Throw out the old rules, for the times they are a changin’!  And to borrow a popular phrase, this is “Change you can believe in.”

 

(Brion K.)

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Psalms 50, 19, 46; Gen. 39:1-23; 1 Cor. 2:14-3:15; Mark 2:1-12

Removing barriers to move from death to resurrection

In today’s readings, we have pairs of opposites: the liar (Potiphar’s wife) and the honest person (Joseph); the unspiritual and the spiritual; the paralyzed and the able-bodied. Black and white. Good and bad. Blessed by the LORD and not.

But can it really be so simple?

There is likely more to the relationship between Potiphar’s wife and Joseph than we get in Genesis. (I suspect there is more to every relationship than meets the eye!) Perhaps Joseph subconsciously gave off a couple “I’d love to lie with you” signals, and his “master’s wife” acted on those hints. Is she, then, wholly to blame?

And, Paul, who has said that circumcision and uncircumcision are as nothing, why label people now? It’s finger pointing, this business of “spiritual” and “unspiritual” people. 

Then there’s the Gospel. Jesus himself seems to suggest that Sin (and the forgiveness of Sin) is what differentiates the able-bodied and the paralyzed. But while I believe that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins, I do not want to believe that the man was physically paralyzed because of sin.

Sin is what separates us from God. Dividing people into categories or sides (Christian vs. Muslim, straight vs. gay, Democrat vs. Republican, blessed by the LORD and not) separates us. We are divided when we don’t see the wholeness of everything – all of creation, including all of what makes each person human.

This Lent, I pray that together, as One Body of Christ, we will work to remove the boundaries between people and between us and the Love of God, which sees all of us wholly as we are – wholly broken. Then we will move from death to resurrection.

____________________________________________

 

And that’s the first half of this meditation—written before I heard the story on NPR about the Boston University hockey player’s rape assault charges. Then I wondered if I had sounded like I was blaming the victim (Joseph) in my reflection on Genesis. I did not intend to do that!

Here’s the thing—I believe the story of Joseph and Potiphar’s wife is complicated, as I believe all relationships are. They both have aspects of power and powerlessness—she’s associated with power as the wife of a powerful man, but she’s an unnamed woman (powerless); he’s a slave and an outsider (powerless), but he’s a man (power), and the sun, moon, and stars all bow down before him in his dreams (that’s power!). 

So there’s sex and sexual politics in this story, plus a host of emotions, including anger, fear, lust, and more—and that makes it complicated. And that’s what I tried to capture above.

My original reflection came to me almost in full one morning while out for a walk, and it only occurred to me much later (listening to NPR) that there were layers of meaning I didn’t consider. Was I taking the easy way out in wanting a tidy storyline for my reflection? A simple lesson on the dangers of labeling this vs. that (the same theme I took up in last year’s Lenten meditation!)?

I pray for simplicity in the midst of complexity—but not so simple that we miss the beautifully nuanced shades of gray that make up a too-simple black-and-white world.

(Cynthia M)