March 19, 2013

I have a fear of becoming blind:

• how could I do my very technical job, heavy with visual information?
• how could I communicate with friends, when there are so many non-verbal cues?
•  how could I enjoy the wonderful sky on a March morning walk with our dog?

So the gospel miracles restoring sight to the blind, like today’s in John 9.18-41, always, well, catch my eye. 

Even in things I’ve looked at countless times, there’s often something to be seen, to be noticed, for the first time.  Of course, I remember the parents’ response to the authorities:

We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; ²¹but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.

And the man’s own rebuke of the authorities  (gotta’ love John’s gospel, he gives great lines to so many characters):

Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. ³¹We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. ³²Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind.

But what I didn’t see until just now was Jesus’ koan at the end of the story:

Jesus said, ‘I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.’ ⁴⁰Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, ‘Surely we are not blind, are we?’ ⁴¹Jesus said to them, ‘If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, “We see”, your sin remains.

As I wrote at the top: I have a fear of becoming blind.  

- Will Ames

March 18, 2013

Jeremiah 24:1-10, Romans 9:19-33, John 9”1-17

A friend now living in Minnesota, someone I have not seen for many years, sends me a Christmas card every year. We entered the same high school 57 years ago. It seems impossible it was that long ago. When we were freshmen, one of the juniors tagged me with a nickname that stuck. It was benign, so I did not mind. My friend addresses me by that nickname in her cards. A seminary friend I met 27 years ago lives in Massachusetts. Last summer we shared a day trip to Weston Priory in Vermont to join in the prayers of the Benedictine community there and visit their gift shop. My friend had never been there. After worship, as the large community of visitors started leaving, I heard my nickname called out and turning I saw one of my high school teachers, now in her 80’s. The friend with me had never heard me called by that name. She did not know me by that name. I stopped using it in college.

Our names change, some of us more than others. In the Romans passage, the author quotes passages about names (and their being changed) from the book of the prophet Hosea.

Romans 9:19-33 “…(The Lord) says in Hosea, ‘Those who were not my people I will call “my people”, and her who was not beloved I will call “beloved”. ’26 ‘And in the very place where it was said to them, “You are not my people”, there they shall be called children of the living God.’”

In the Hebrew Scriptures a lot of stock seems to be placed in the names given to places and people. In these Hosea passages the name captures the changing condition of the people. God seems to want them to be aware of their condition so uses their name and its changing to help them be aware.

This led me to think that it might be helpful to our self-awareness to ask ourselves what name we might have at this point in our lives if the name reflected our current condition or situation. And, we might think of what name we would give to people we know and care about to make us more aware of and sensitive to them.

A friend in the condo complex where I live might be called by the name “Mother with an adult daughter going through chemotherapy,” but she has other names, too, of course. She is also “Woman who loves to play cribbage and to laugh.” Our lives are complex and multi-faceted, and no one name or one condition can capture our complexity. And, we cannot know all the names that one person has or even recognize all of our own.

Only God knows all our names, even nicknames from years ago.

In 2:17 of The Book of Revelation God speaks, saying “Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches. To everyone who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give a white stone, and on the white stone is written a new name that no one knows except the one who receives it.”

It seems to me that our white stones probably are handed to us in our risen life, otherwise we would not be able to read them. Until then perhaps it is enough to be thoroughly known and understood only by God.

 – Janice Schuyler

March 17, 2013

Thin Places

Since it is St. Patrick’s Day, I’m going to stray from the given readings and talk a bit about the “thin places” of Celtic spirituality that I find so comforting here at St. Francis.

I had never heard of “thin places” until I heard Rich preach about them. In Celtic spirituality, it’s a place where the veil that separates heaven and earth is lifted and one is able to glimpse or touch the edge of heaven. There is a Celtic saying that heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in the thin places that distance is even smaller.

St. Francis has an abundance of thin places. There’s the Memorial Garden, of course, whose clean simple circle invites both contemplation and community. In that place, the mystical feeling of the nearby “saints triumphant” can be felt in equal measure with the very human rustling of people trying to light candles from the cauldron at the circle’s center during a windy Easter Vigil.

And then there are assorted candles of the Wednesday night service. The thin tapers placed in the bowl of sand seem to take on something of human nature, bending and wavering here and there, but becoming even more  wonderful when they are all standing together.

Have you ever been in the parking lot, and been startled as you suddenly caught a glimpse of Jesus in the labyrinth behind St. Clare House? What a great melding of the everyday world and the world beyond!  

It seems to me that St. Francis holds many thin places not unlike those described below by the contemporary poet, Sharlande Sledge:

“Thin places,” the Celts call this space

Both seen and unseen,

Where the door between the world

And the next is cracked open for a moment

And the light is not all on the other side.


God shaped space. Holy.

Finally, on this St. Patrick’s Day I wish Rich Simpson a Happy Birthday. St. Patrick’s prayer fits the occasion:

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
 Christ behind me, Christ before me,
 Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
 Christ to comfort and restore me.

A wonderful full text of the prayer, sung and accompanied by images, may be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pLSfb_RHRw

I wish Rich much joy as his journey continues!

Julie Mankowsky

March 16, 2013

AM Psalm 107:33-43, 108:1-6(7-13); PM Psalm 33;Jer. 23:9-15; Rom. 9:1-18; John 6:60-71

               In the reading from John the disciples say, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” They refer to Jesus saying that they will eat his body and blood. However, their disgust comes from taking the words literally. They get too caught up on the words to understand the meaning behind them.

            I am all too familiar with getting caught up in the little things and forgetting the meaning behind them. With school I get caught up in deadlines for projects and upcoming tests that I need to study for and forget the meaning in them. I forget that while I’m staying up late working on an English project that the meaning behind it is not to stress me out and make me lose sleep, but rather to expand upon my knowledge and prepare me for life.

            The disciples that left failed to see the meaning in Jesus’ teachings, instead taking the words in a literal sense. However, that is not what believing is about. To truly believe we must go past the words of our language and find the divine meaning behind them.

            I do not define my religion in words. I define it in the thoughts that go into those words. I believe that by using symbols Jesus is asking us to not just take his words as facts meant to memorize and store in our brains as mere words, but to analyze them and find the significance and meaning in them.  

             - Caroline Galvinhill

March 15, 2013

Jeremiah 23:1-8, Psalms 95&102, John: 52-59

Young children do not understand figurative language; they comprehend literally. The ability to separate the two comes at different ages. I recall an incident when my children were preschoolers that reinforces how literally children think. It was at the end of a particularly challenging day: I had worked, picked up the kids at preschool, was trying to cook dinner, feed the dog, and attend to the clamor of two children. Out of sheer exasperation, I loudly proclaimed as my husband walked in, “I feel like a *&%$# magician!” My son with a look of sheer delight questioned, “Oh, Mommy, a *&%$# magician, will you show me some tricks?”  OOPS…

Figurative language is a powerful teaching tool, and the Bible uses it copiously. Today’s scriptural passages abound with similes and metaphors, some more easy to accept than others.

Jeremiah invokes the frequently used sheep-shepherd metaphor. God’s people have scattered due to the less than watchful eye of the shepherd. God takes over the shepherd role and promises to his sheep to bring them back to their fold where they will be fruitful and multiply. I have both participated in and observed this metaphorical scattering. When I was a child, everyone, literally, that I knew went to church. Amongst my classmates and friends, most denominations were represented. Now few of my friends, including some from my childhood, attend church. I, too, experienced a few years as a lost sheep. Thankfully the good shepherd rescued me and reinstated me to the fold. There is comfort in believing that the shepherd does not take time off and will welcome those strays when they are ready. Psalm 95 reinforces the metaphor, We are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand.

Psalm 102 teaches with similes. The psalmist is miserable and he appeals to God to listen to his lament reinforcing his misery through several comparisons, my days drift away like smoke…my bones are hot as burning coals…my heart is smitten like grass…I have become like a vulture…like an owl…like a sparrow, lonely. After he finishes his lament, the psalmist concludes with one more simile that teaches in spite of misery though the heavens will wear out like a garment, God is always the same and his years will never end.

The most challenging metaphors appear in John’s gospel reading for today where the Jews are arguing about Jesus’ claim that his flesh is bread and his blood is wine, and that if we both eat and drink of his flesh and blood, we will have eternal life. Imagine trying to explain this figurative language to a child. Eating and drinking are vital to survival, and bread and wine offer basic sustenance. However, the ability to accept the transformation of bread and wine into flesh and blood is a huge step between childish literal understanding and strong adult faith. This leap requires great spiritual strength, which sometimes escapes the wandering sheep. Fortunately, God is both a magician and a shepherd who can magically rescue us when we go astray. He is also our father who explains to his children that which we don’t understand.

- Jan Moran

March 14, 2013

Psalm 69

To the leader: according to Lilies. Of David.
¹ Save me, O God,
   for the waters have come up to my neck.
² I sink in deep mire,
   where there is no foothold;
I have come into deep waters,
   and the flood sweeps over me.
³ I am weary with my crying;
   my throat is parched.
My eyes grow dim
   with waiting for my God.

⁴ More in number than the hairs of my head
   are those who hate me without cause;
many are those who would destroy me,
   my enemies who accuse me falsely.
What I did not steal
   must I now restore?
⁵ O God, you know my folly;
   the wrongs I have done are not hidden from you.

It is sometimes unnerving when Bible verses speak so personally – so intimately – but it reminds me that God knows me better than I know myself. How many times in the last several months have I heard myself say the words, “I can’t seem to get my head above water,” or “I feel like I just grab a breath but a wave pushes me back under,” or “I’m overwhelmed/drowning?” Comments made metaphorically can echo deeply and I find them often reflected back at me through my reading passages of the Bible.

Comments I would probably never utter out loud, “my enemies accuse me falsely,” are laid bare in front of me in Psalm 69. It is true that everyone goes through periods of unfair rumors or false friends, but when you try to rise above their pettiness, swallow it in an attempt to dismiss it, God reminds me that it is still there in my heart because He sees it. He is not fooled and I am not above the hurt.

“I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us…  Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8).

I am grateful that despite my pathetic attempts to rise above the petty struggles of my life, the Lord knows me to the depths of my soul, accepts me and my struggles and loves me anyway.

As I go through the Lenten season, I think about the temptation of Jesus and I know my “tests” pale in comparison. If Jesus can bare the trials and tribulations the devil himself placed before him – and all for saving my soul – I can certainly strive to rise above the storm waters, thank the Lord for loving me despite my failures, and take each new day as an opportunity to earn the sacrifice Jesus suffered for me.

- Kathleen Dixon

March 13, 2013

…see how the fields are ripe for harvesting.

One of the themes of today’s lectionary is evangelism. Evangelism is a scary concept to me; I often do not feel comfortable talking about my faith to strangers or even intimate friends whom I know follow a different way. What right do I have to approach my colleague and share the story of Jesus?  Especially in a culture where faith is politically polarized, mainline churches are closing their doors due to low attendance, and thousands have been ostracized or deeply wounded by the churches of their childhood, what words can I say about the church, the scriptures, or the teachings of Jesus that are not offensive or ring with hypocrisy?  

But three things strike me about today’s lectionary readings. The first is that God’s statutes are life preserving. The second is that the story of Jesus brings joy!  And the third is that the fields are ripe for harvesting; in other words, the people of this earth are ready to hear life-giving, joy-bringing words.

Then the LORD commanded us to observe all these statutes, to fear the LORD our God, for our lasting good, so as to keep us alive…

Last Thursday, I sat across from a dear friend who shared about her home, one that was hemmed in with pain, a lie and deep betrayal. We spoke about commitment, adultery, and what life-giving love looks like. Through our conversation, I saw that the words I offered to her, which were simple words describing God’s law—a description of dutiful and committed love, faithfulness, and self-sacrifice—brought hope to her life. It was a description of a different way, one where healing love thrives.

…the eunuch saw him no more, and went on his way rejoicing.

I remember the day that I heard the Gospel; the day I learned I was a beloved child of the living God. My heart overflowed, I cried tears of joy because the story of a God who would sacrifice his power and glory, be humiliated for me, and who wants me as an adopted child, ran deep into my soul, and transformed my life. I can take risks; I can pursue the good of others because I am not so consumed with need. My God is a naked lamb, exposed before the world, and I can be, too. The Gospel has set me free, and I am able to live life to the fullest because of the hope I have in Jesus Christ. I will continue to go on my way, rejoicing!

My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.

Instead of being afraid to share the good news of Christ, I will do this instead: I will live a life of humility and love, living by God’s law: a law of hope, reconciliation, healing, and sacrifice. I will pray as David prayed, “knit my heart to you that I may fear your Name.” I will join and journey with my friends and colleagues who are also on the Wilderness Road. I will answer to the call of the Holy Spirit as Phillip did, “Then the Spirit said to Philip, ‘Go over to this chariot and join it.’”  And finally, I will live like Jesus who came to this earth to work: to work for the hope of the People, to reconcile the People to God. It is time for me to share the Good News.

- Becky Grinstead