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

Ash Wednesday - March 5, 2014

"The following devotional is from Richard Rohr. He refers to a "second split" in our reality. The first split is the split between ourselves and others as we discover our identity. The second split is the split of life and death. On this day, as we are marked with the cross of ashes, we hear, 'from dust you have come and to dust you shall return'. Life and death are not split; we experience a unitive consciousness. We are a whole person."

Splitting Life from Death

The second split is life from death. It comes about when you first experience the death of someone you have known. Maybe it’s your dog. Maybe it’s Grandma. And your mental ego starts separating life and death. There are living people, and there are people who have already passed over and they are gone. So you try to manufacture a life for yourself that will not include death (read: failure, sadness, losing, humiliation, etc.). Almost all male initiation rites insisted that the boy had to concretely face head-on this kind of dying. Sometimes the young men actually had to dig their grave and sleep in it for a night in an effort to begin to understand that life and death are not two, but include one another. If you split entirely, you spend your whole life trying to avoid any kind of death (anything negative, uncomfortable, difficult, unfamiliar, dangerous, or demanding). Much of humanity has not gone through its initiation or “baptism.” That’s why Jesus says the rich man has an almost impossible task in understanding what he’s talking about (Luke 16). If you’ve stayed in this split kind of thinking—that your whole life’s purpose is to stay comfortable and happy, frequenting five-star restaurants and hotels, and never suffering any inconvenience—then you are going to put off resolving this split until the last months of life. But at some point, you’re finally going to have to see that this is not a truthful naming of reality. You can’t always avoid the negative. Many of the saints and mystics, like Francis of Assisi, just dive into facing the unfamiliar, the foreign, and the scary ahead of time. Francis called it “poverty,” which might not be the way we use the word today. For him it meant facing the “poor” side of everything and finding your riches there. What an amazing turnaround! Henceforth, failure is almost impossible. Adapted from Franciscan Mysticism: I AM That Which I Am Seeking