Take My Hand

My heart hurts.

Too many families are grieving this day as communities of color particularly suffer from the impact of illness and racism.

My heart hurts.

The ideological divide in our country has deepened to the point that the very actions that can keep communities healthy and thriving have been politicized and as a result, people are dying.

My heart hurts.

It feels as if the only news is bad news and I keep asking myself, “Is there any word from God?”

My heart hurts.

Social isolation is affecting mental health and recovery.

My heart hurts.

What is the state of your heart?

John Wesley, in his sermon, “Catholic Spirit”, wrote: "If your heart is as my heart, take my hand." 

We need to take each other’s hands. Connected to one another, through love, causes us to bear our siblings’ burdens. It opens us to the lives of others—their joys and their pain, the places where they hurt and the parts that are tender.

Just as God loves us with a love that will never let us go, when we hold each other’s hands we commit to staying connected even when we would rather turn away from the experiences of another. It causes us to stay in the conversation even when it is hard. It expands our view as we see through another’s eyes a world that may be so unlike our own. When we take each other’s hands, we agree to build a world together where suffering, injustice, pain and poverty are vanquished.

Whose hands do you hold? Whose lives are you willing to fight for?

I know my heart isn’t the only heart to hurt. Take my hand.

May we find comfort in the Psalms that promise us, “Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Together, we can push back on all the forces that denigrate, defile and deny the image of God that each person possesses.

Be well! Stay safe! Wear a mask!

To Become Intimate with Generosity

This week I listened to a TED talk that literally stopped me in my tracks when I heard the presenter say, “Become intimate with generosity.” Become intimate with generosity? That is a whole new way of understanding generosity: generosity is a relationship first, and an action second. It is because of our relationship with generosity that we become generous people.

This is reflected in 2 Corinthians 9: 6-11:

Remember: A stingy planter gets a stingy crop; a lavish planter gets a lavish crop. I want each of you to take plenty of time to think it over, and make up your own mind what you will give. That will protect you against sob stories and arm-twisting. God loves it when the giver delights in the giving.

God can pour on the blessings in astonishing ways so that you’re ready for anything and everything, more than just ready to do what needs to be done. As one psalmist puts it,

God throws caution to the winds, giving to the needy in reckless abandon.
God’s right-living, right-giving ways never run out, never wear out.

This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more than extravagant with you. God gives you something you can then give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God.

How intimate are you with generosity? I believe as we become more intimate, God helps us have lives that are more generous, not only with our material wealth, but in all aspects of our living. We are able to create generous spaces where others feel welcomed. We become generous in our language, helping speak in ways that build bridges between others. We are generous with our time, making time with others—family, friends, those in need—a priority. We are generous with forgiveness, not only for others who have wronged us but also for ourselves when we have fallen short of our self-expectations.

When we are intimate with generosity, our heart is expanded and our living changes. Tomorrow, as you enter your church, bring generosity with you and see how your engagement with others is enriched.

Songs of the Season: In the Bleak Midwinter

As the joy of the season has been replaced with the choked cries of grief since the Newtown shootings, I find I have reached for my hymnbook to find songs of the season that won't gloss over the despair and helplessness I am feeling. Is there room in the manger for me, for us, this Christmas?

In the Bleak Midwinter is perhaps the most melancholy of Christmas carols (if you know another, do let me know). It was written by British poet Christina Rossetti (1830-1894).  Rossetti's father's physical and emotional health deteriorated when she was barely in her teens, resulting in instability and financial hardship for her family. She herself suffered a nervous breakdown at the age of 14 and had to leave school. She battled with depression for the rest of her life. At the age of 42, she was diagnosed with Graves' Disease and later, in 1893, was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died a year later.

Rossetti wrote the hymn around 1872, at the request of a magazine. The depiction of a cold world, snow on snow, snow on snow, reflects my mood today. There is a moan in my body longing for escape, an uncharacteristic bleakness to my spirit as I ponder the unspeakable horrors we humans inflict on each other.

Yet into this harsh and violent world, God comes. An infant. Vulnerable. Needy. And in spite of all heaven heralding the baby's arrival, it is his mother, in all her humanness, who cradled him in his arms and offered him what he most needed: love.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone.
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden's bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

Oh what can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb?
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part?
Yet what can I give Him, give my heart.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty winds may move
Earth stood hard as I am, water like the storm
If I were a Wise Man, would I do my part?
Yet what can I give Him, give my heart. 

 Is there room this year for me in the manger? Can I bring my tears as I face this broken world? Can I bring my weariness? Can I bring the fears I can barely utter aloud?

Yes, God comes: not because all is right with the world, but because in spite of all that is wrong, God desires love to prevail. God comes, not because I am prepared and ready to rejoice, but because God knows my need for healing. God comes.

Into the bleakness of my world, God comes. And while it feels as if I am but an empty vessel, there is nothing I have to do, just open my heart and let the healing warmth of God enter in.

Heart to Heart

I was at the gym Saturday when something scrolled across the CNN channel that nearly caused me to fall off my eliptical machine: "Doctors find nothing wrong with Rush Limbaugh's heart." Huh?

Several days ago, Limbaugh was admitted to the hospital for chest pains. Conservative talk show host Limbaugh has lambasted liberals, reviled revolutionary thinkers, and verbally pummelled progressives by filling the airways with half truths and mistruths.  His brand of social commentary has brought new lows to civil discourse in the public square, demeaning his detractors through name-calling and smear tactics.

So it surprised me that the doctors found nothing wrong with Limbaugh's heart. Because it means that he has one.

While we all have our political/social/theological agendas, we must never further these agendas by demeaning or dehumanizing those who disagree with us. If we are to create healthy communities and cities, if we want a more just nation and a world filled with peace, we must do it by staying connected, even to those who disagree with us.

Libaugh's tirades (even if they are to generate ratings) have done nothing to help us collaborate across lines that divide us. Instead, he has deepened those divisions. 

Rush, if you're heart is okay, use it to mend the world's brokenness instead of adding to it.