Saturday, December 28, 2019
The Ending of Innocence
The sanctuary—on this fourth day of Christmas--now looks a little worse for wear—while it was all spruced up for Advent and Christmas Eve, the poinsettias are beginning to wilt and the Christmas tree is beginning to let go of its pine needles. Wax from the Christmas Even candlelight service is still on the pews and carpet. The truth is, we feel that way, too. The anticipation of Christmas, the glory of Christmas Eve, and the excitement of Christmas Day has worn us down a bit.
It is interesting to read what happens from one chapter to the next in the Gospel of Matthew. Chapter one ends with a brief telling of Jesus’ birth. And then chapter two begins with the Wise Men from the East following the star to find Jesus, their journey interrupted by Herod who is so threatened by Jesus that he wants to know where he is located so he can have him killed. He enlists the aid of the Wise Men, but they betray him and don’t tell him where Jesus is to be found. Herod, in his rage, orders all boys under the age of two to be murdered, hoping that the act will include the killing of Jesus. But Joseph has been warned of Herod’s plans by an angel, and flees the violence by escaping to Egypt. While Jesus is spared, Matthew reminds us, it was as Jeremiah foretold:
“A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
Each year, I am startled by this violence, coming so close to the celebration of Jesus’ birth. How could we be proclaiming, “Joy to the world” and then read this text? Scholars call this reading the Slaughter of the Innocents. Perhaps, it should also be named the Ending of Innocence.
How tempting is it, to stay at the manger scene. Even though Jesus was born in a lowly stable, there was a host of characters to welcome him and to sing the wonders of his birth. We still sing about the holy night, of how he laid his sweet head in a manger, of how this cattle stall became a throne of glory. It is tempting to stay cooing at this child, to hold on to an innocent and naïve hope that all is right with the world. But just like the slaughter of the innocents, reality creeps in. All is NOT right in the world. There is violence and hatred and division. Some homes resemble battlefields, with broken and wounded lives. Individuals are weighed down by the unholy trinity of oppression, greed and injustice. The angels’ song of peace on earth has been drowned out by the discord found in our world.
Perhaps we need to have our innocence ended, so we can see the world’s brokenness for what it is and, as the Body of Christ, continue to bring love, healing, hope, justice and wholeness in the broken places of our world and lives.
Perhaps we need to see clearly where the hungry still wait for food, where children seek safe refuge, where those in prisons or those who are sick still wait for hope, where the oppressed are yearning for liberation. Until we dare to look honestly and critically at all the corners of our communities, there will continue to be wailing and loud lamentation.
It is time, my friends, to arise from the manger, shake off the dust, and roll up our sleeves. Truly, as Howard Thurman once said, the work of Christmas has begin.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
THE PEOPLE WHO WALKED IN DARKNESS...
Saturday, December 14, 2019
MARY, ENGAGING IN GOD'S REVOLUTIONARY ACTION
This is the Sunday where the pink candle of the Advent wreath is traditionally lit. You might wonder why the third week’s candle is pink when the others are purple (or blue). True confession: for many years I thought that the pink candle stood for Mary (wow, that blue/pink gender theme really does get ingrained, doesn’t it?). In fact, it is pink because the third week of Advent is known as Gaudete Sunday, which means joy and marks that Advent is more than half over.
But I want to come back to Mary.
How is it that God chose Mary, a teenager from a town of no importance, to bear God’s-Love-Made-Visible into the world? What does this say about who Mary was? What does this say about who God is?
My nativity sets (for there are many!) all depict Mary in such serene forms, arms either extended matronly towards the baby Jesus, or folded across her chest as if still trying to take in the miraculous event. But the Magnificat Mary sings in the first chapter of Luke shows another side of Mary. It is the song of one who is not a passive performer in God’s saving work but an active participant. Mary sings boldly of God’s revolutionary actions and her role in it:
For though I’m God’s humble servant, God has noticed me.
Now and forever, I will be considered blessed by all generations.
For the Mighty One has done great things for me; holy is God’s name!
From generation to generation, God’s lovingkindness endures for those who revere God.
The rulers from their high positions of power, God has brought down low.
To Israel, God’s servant, God has given help,
As promised to our ancestors, remembering Abraham and his descendants in mercy forever. (Luke 1: 46-55—The Voice)
Saturday, December 7, 2019
The Warm Up Act
Thursday, November 28, 2019
A Prayer for Thanksgiving
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Inescapable Network of Mutuality
Saturday, November 16, 2019
Museums or Mission Outposts?
Saturday, November 9, 2019
Remembering The Saints
This weekend, the members of the Clergy Academy and I returned from Cuernavaca. It has been a powerful two weeks as we wrestled with a new language and learned from a new culture. I especially found the past two days particularly impactful as we participated in the Day of the Dead (Dia de Los Muertos) celebrations with our new friends.
Altars were created in our homes, around the community, as well as at the school, a tribute to loved ones who had passed. Favorite foods and other memorabilia were placed on the altar next to a loved one’s picture as a way to help them on their spiritual journey. As we shared stories of our deceased loved ones, more than a few tears were shed.
Many of us saw death this year. Many of us had our lives profoundly impacted by the loss of a loved one. Grief clings to us as bitter soot on our souls, because life has been taken from us, wrenched from our grasp. The empty place beside us in bed, or at the dinner table, or in the office, or next door, or at the family gathering, is an ever present reminder that cannot be denied: death has paid a visit and left with one we love.
Even though death has taken some dear ones from us, my faith that tells me that they are in fact here, still amongst us. My faith helps me continue to experience the love we shared that not even death can take away. Faith teaches me that the dead are never very far from the living. I am grateful that you, me, all of us are surrounded by the “communion of saints.”
This weekend is a time when many cultures and religious traditions believe that the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. It is a time to honor those who have passed, those saints of our lives who now rest in the arms of God.
Who are the saints in your life, those who from their labors rest, who today are sitting now at God’s side, watching over and caring for you, continuing to surround you in love that not even death can destroy?
Whose voice do you still hear? Who do you remember? Who showed you a bit of what God is like? Who loved you? Whose love was so big that not even death can put an end to it?
This weekend, we remember the saints. We draw the circle wide to include them in our Celebrations. We draw wisdom from the way they embodied faith. We draw strength from the way they lived their lives. We give thanks to God for their witness that transcends death.
Thomas Lynch, an undertaker-turned-poet, reminds us to be gentle with ourselves and our grief. It is hard work. His advice is this:
“There's no easy way to do this. So do it right: weep, laugh, watch, pray, love, live, give thanks and praise; comfort, mend, honor, and remember.”
In these days of remembering the saints, may we turn to one another in our grief. Offer comfort. Offer affirmation. Offer life. Offer love as we live into and move through our grief, as we surround ourselves with saints.
Generosity and Hospitality
I have been thinking a lot about generosity and hospitality lately. While members of the Clergy Academy and I were in Cuernavaca for our cultural immersion, we were offered incredible hospitality by our hosts at CILAC FREIRE. From the very moment they picked us up until they set us off for our return flights, they did everything they could to make sure we were cared for in mind, body and spirit.
Towards the end of our time there, Denise Bender, Robin and I met with the leaders of the school to review how the immersion went, what worked, and what could be changed, and to begin to make plans for next year. One thing they wanted to know was if our accommodations were okay. This was our third year staying in the apartments. We really like them! They asked if we were having any problems with the water—in the past, hot water had sometimes been in short supply! We mentioned that the hot water was better, but still a little irregular, but no big deal.
As we finished our review of the week and began a more informal visit, we learned more of each other’s lives away from the school. In the course of the conversation, both hosts shared that they don’t have hot water in their homes. And then it hit me:
They gave us more than they have themselves!
That was such a humbling realization. And then, as we listened to the places where others in our group were staying, it became plainly evident that all of us were the recipients of incredible generosity. The school family (because they are not employees but a community that is family for one another) goes the extra mile in caring for school participants. All of them share a deep faith. Those involved in Christian Base Communities live an Acts 2 faith: They share everything in common. By sharing with one another, needs were cared for.
I saw the essence of the Christian faith lived out vibrantly by our Mexican friends. It has challenged me to consider my own actions (and inactions!). Am I willing to give more than I have myself? Does the way I live enhance the lives of others? Do I share as much as I can so that those who have little can have more?
Imagine what would happen in our congregations if we offered everyone who walked through our doors a generous hospitality? What would happen if we pooled our resources, sharing not only our financial resources, but our own goods and equipment? How does that kind of abundant thinking create a community full of vitality, vision, and joy? People beyond the walls of our church would see a community of deep care and love, and be drawn to the possibilities of promise such a community holds.
Jesus told those who follow him:
“Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. 34 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” Luke 12:33-34
May we offer to others the best of what we have, making the love we hold in our hearts tangible to those around us.
Saturday, October 26, 2019
Dying to Live
I write this from Cuernavaca, Mexico. Members of the Clergy Academy and I are here on a cultural immersion, learning Spanish and looking at social movements through the lens of liberation theology. We are studying at CILAC FREIRE and the school’s family of teachers, helpers, and host families have welcomed us with a generous hospitality that is humbling.
Each day one of the clergy lead us in a time of devotions. Each day has been a rich time of sharing. One morning, Rev. Yevette Christy challenged us: “What do you have to allow to die within you so that the new can be born?”
I have been reflecting on that question ever since. Even though our faith begins with the freshness of creation, finds its promise in the birth of a child, and leans into the unfailing hope found in the new life of resurrection, we cling to death as if our lives depend on it.
What do I refuse to let go of, that prevents me from enjoying the fullness of new life? What defenses that once kept me safe have outgrown their usefulness and now stunt my growth? What relationships prevent me from living into my authentic self? Where do I remain at a literal or figurative grave and see only what was, failing to see the seeds of new life seeking to burst all around me?
Likewise, what are we holding on to in the church that needs to die so new life can rise up? What are those habits, traditions, and ways of being and doing that need to die because they belong to a bygone era that no longer serves us well?
Do we have the courage to live into the power of our faith and let die those things that no longer work? Are you willing to trust that on the other side of death is new life?
Saturday, October 19, 2019
The Commitments We Make
Saturday, October 5, 2019
The Oneness of Christ's Table
It was a requirement, when my sisters and I were growing up, that we were in our seats at the kitchen table for dinner. It didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing, my mother was firm that we would be present for supper. However, while my mother expected us to be at the table, it didn’t mean we had to say good-bye to the friends we were playing with. Our friends were always invited to eat over and our table of four often held 6, 8 or even 12. And somehow my mother was able to do a “loaves and fishes” miracle and make our meatloaf or pasta feed everyone present.
I realize this early experience of the table has shaped how I understand coming to Christ’s table: everyone is invited, and there is always room for one more.
Tomorrow, we celebrate World Communion Sunday. Christians around the world will gather before a table and with outstretched hands reach for the bread and cup as they recall Jesus’ words, “Do this in remembrance of me.” And as the grain of the bread mingles with the sweetness of the cup, a holy mystery occurs: we are made one in Christ. Divisions of nation, language, class, sexual orientation, gender identity, ability, and race fall away as we become the Body of Christ, no part unlovely or unneeded, no law or polity able to compete with Jesus’ invitation: “Take, eat, do this in remembrance of me.”
Oh, how we need this reminder in these days of division. Our human tendency to erect walls of who is in and who is out, of distrusting those who aren’t like us, breaks down in the breaking of the bread. We are reminded of this in I Corinthians 10: 16-17
“The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? 17 Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread.”
Don’t hold yourself back from coming to the table tomorrow. There is a place for you! And as you raise the cup to your lips, who else is there with you? Who is receiving this gift from God not only in your own church but in other churches around the world? What does it mean to you, that you are made one with them in this meal? How does it inform your living?
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Nothing Gold Can Stay
This week the seasons turned from Summer to Fall (except in Montana, which went straight to Winter). The temperatures are cooler, the days are shorter, and the leaves are turning. But even this will change. I always find myself drawn to a Robert Frost poem at this time of year:
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Saturday, September 21, 2019
The Power of One
I am up in the Rockies on retreat with the women from Longs Peak UMC (CO) and taking time to pray for the laity and clergy of the Mountain Sky Conference as we prepare for Sunday worship.
I have been meditating all day on this picture I saw this morning.
It is a picture of Greta Thunberg, a Swedish teenager with Asperger’s Syndrome, taken in August 2018. At 15, she became so concerned about climate change and the lack of action on the part of politicians that she took time off from school to demonstrate outside the Swedish Parliament, calling for stronger policies related to the environment. Soon, other students from around the world started to join her and together they formed a school climate strike movement called “Fridays for Future.”
More and more young people have been engaging in Fridays for Future and yesterday, September 20, 2019, young people on every continent (yes, including Antarctica) participated in Climate Strike demonstrations in a show of global solidarity. There were over 2500 events scheduled in over 163 countries. Estimates put the number of participants at over 4 million.
Young people from across our conference participated. Here are pictures of climate strikes in all the five states of the MSC. Look closely and you might recognize some of our young people!
Wyoming |
Denver |
Helena |
Idaho |
Utah |
I am struck by the power of one—one young girl saw something that needed to be addressed, and from her first lone witness, a movement was born. As Margaret Mead once noted, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.”
As people of faith, we know the truth of that statement. Throughout the history of our faith, we see how the power of one can change human history: Moses, David, Deborah, Esther, Mary, Paul, John the Baptist…the list goes on and on! From these lone figures, others were inspired, liberated, made whole.
Jesus—God-With-Us—walked a solitary path but invited others in. From the initial 12, to a whole community, humanity’s path was forever changed. We gather in our churches because of a movement he began, grounded in Love’s power.
So as you look around your community, what is that one thing you are being called to address, challenge, change? How are you stepping up and speaking out? How are you inviting others to do the same?
The movement towards God’s Beloved Community begins with one person taking one step.