Supposing Him to be the Gardener: Pandemic Prayers Part 1

At the beginning of this time of physical separation I started writing thoughts, prayers, meditations, laments, joys, hopes and posting them on Facebook. I have gathered the first group here(they begin at the bottom of this post):

Pandemic Prayers

5.2.20

Weeping may spend the night; but joy comes in the morning

This line from the 30th psalm speaks to me this morning.

There is nothing too dark, too sad, too awful that will overtake us.
Joy will return.
Will it be the same joy as before?
Probably not.
It will be a new joy.
A joy you have never before fathomed.
Will it blot out the sorrow that caused the weeping?
No that sorrow has marked you and lives with you forever.
But we can be both: those who have known great sorrow and those who have known and will know great joy;
for weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning.

For those who weep this day, I pray for your coming joy.

5.1.20

All of those people are worried about not sharing the sacrament of communion, I offer you this. I wear this in communion with you and with God. I don’t wear it for me I wear it for my neighbor

4.30.20

The psalmist says:

Be still and know that I am God.

4.29.20

(With apologies to the prophet Joel and the poet Mary Oliver)

Today is waiting for us.

What will it bring?

What will we bring?
Let us dream dreams, cast our vision
and live as fully as we can into this one precious day.
(Photo taken at Kruger, South Africa, 2019)

4.28.20

Entering into Anxiety

Richard Rohr’s meditations this week are about liminal spaces…especially the liminal space that is suffering, sorrow, grief, and serious illness.

I turned to Rohr this morning as I have this deep foreboding and anxiety about the reopening of things. It is a foreboding about the virus spiking again ( I especially worry about how opening our churches may contribute to that spike) it is also an anxiety, a strong steady drumbeat of anxiety, about resuming a life of incredible stress and constant travel. It is about worrying all the time if I have the right dog care lined up etc. It’s about packing and unpacking, it’s about a life on the road without an anchor back home to keep things running. This anxiety churns up and I find myself just pushing it aside and then powering through whatever task is in front of me.

Here’s the thing about anxiety, depression, grief, worry and fear—pushing it aside gives it more power.

Stepping into it, traveling through it, gives me more power. This is what Rohr’s column today speaks to. I commend it to you, here is an excerpt:

“To heal from our suffering—not merely to ease or palliate it, but to transform it into the source and substance of our growth and wisdom—requires a journey through it. We must listen attentively for whatever message it has for us and, according to [psychotherapist Miriam] Greenspan, find authentic ways to befriend it so that we can surrender to its transmuting power.” (LaVera Crawley, “The Art of Spiritual Companionship,” “Liminal Space,” Oneing, vol. 8, no. 1 (CAC Publishing: 2020), 81, 82–83, 90.)

https://cac.org/category/daily-meditations/2020/

Today I commit to walking into the dark liminality my situation offers me, God before me, God beside me, God behind me….

4.27.20

None

4.26.20

The Road to Emmaus

This account from Luke’s gospel is a favorite.

Recognition and comprehension of the Sacred, the Holy, the True takes time. Recognition may feel instantaneous but that’s just because, like the brothers on that road, recognition percolates deep within us. It takes time for it to bubble to our consciousness, and then once it does reach our conscious self, we begin contextualizing it. This process of comprehension and contextualizing is a life long process, full of fits, starts, detours, idleness, rejection, acceptance. Rinse and repeat.

What the Emmaus story gives me is hope that anywhere along the road, I may encounter something life-giving that will accompany me for the rest of my life.

Alleluia.

4.25.20

The last line of today’s reading from the gospel of John includes the phrase, “take courage.” (John 16:33)

In other translations “take courage” is translated as “take heart.”

I prefer courage.

So often we are told to have courage, to be courageous.

What about taking courage?

Take Courage

You don’t need to have it yourself, nor do you need to hoard it like manna in the wilderness

(or toilet paper in the grocery store).

Take courage when you need it.

The source is never depleted.

Play with that for awhile:

The source of courage is NEVER depleted. Whenever we need it, we just need to take it.

You may take it all day everyday until some day when you realize it has taken up residence in yourself, for that’s how this works, I think.

The Holy One holds what we need until that day when we realize it now lives within us.

Take Courage

4.24.20

None

4.23.20

This morning as I was having my prayer time a robin visited me. I looked up from my chair and there on the tree branch in the front yard was a robin, staring in my direction. I sat looking at the bird and there we were, in communion with one another.

The bird turned around and then turned back. I looked down at my prayer book and then looked back up. The robin tilted her head, I laughed. And then we resumed our first posture of looking at each other.

It was communion.

I was overflowing with peace.

Then the robin flew away and I felt profound loss. As if all that peace in unity of beings, that communion was now gone.

And I thought, this must be how God feels when we turn away.

Good morning, friends.

4.22.20

From Canticle 12, The Song of Creation:

Glorify the Lord,

O beasts of the wild,

and all you flocks and herds.

Happy Earth Day.

Pray for the earth, the beasts of the wild, the flocks, the herds, you, me and our grandchildren.

4.21.20

An anthem about the still small

Voice inside each of us.

Let it Be, Listen for who or what will come to you.

We (I) often have so much noise around and within that we (I) forget to let it be and listen.

Let it be friends. Listen and let it be.

4.20.20

Learn from the Dog

High alert

Deep napping

Romping in the yard

Deep napping

Take person on long walk.

Smell Everything.

Deep napping.

Follow person throughout the house.

(Never let her out of your sight)

Deep napping.

Wake up.

Find person.

Smile. Wag.

Wiggle in joyful recognition.

Rest in the joy, for your person is right here.

Don’t know how to have a relationship

with the Divine?

Learn from your dog.

4.19.20

Seen

You had not imagined

that something so empty

could fill you
to overflowing,

and now you carry

the knowledge

like an awful treasure

or like a child

that roots itself

beneath your heart:

how the emptiness

will bear forth

a new world

that you cannot fathom

but on whose edge

you stand.

So why do you linger?

You have seen,

and so you are

already blessed.

You have been seen,

and so you are

the blessing.

There is no other word

you need.

There is simply

to go

and tell.

There is simply

to begin.

—Jan Richardson

2016 update: “Seen” appears in my new book, Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons.

Easter 2 2020

I’ve never understood why Thomas gets such a bum rap— from us and at least for a moment in today’s gospel, from Jesus. You see, I always hear Jesus’ comment to Thomas———“‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”—as being spoken in an exasperated, annoyed tone of voice. Now, I’m sure by then he was sick and tired of his friends not recognizing him. First Mary, then the clueless brothers on the road to Emmaus, then the disciples all locked up in their fear and trepidation, and then, a week later, Thomas. Even Jesus has some limits, and clearly as we hear in this morning’s gospel account, he’s reached his.

It’s understandable—after all he’s the one who had been tortured, he’s the one who had descended deep into the darkness of death and he’s the one who came out from all that, resurrected…he had done some significant heavy lifting and yet he still needs to prove to folks that it is, indeed, him?

Jesus’ annoyance doesn’t last long, for what is important to Him is that in whatever way possible, his followers, the disciples then and us, now, find our way into the Resurrection. Jesus wants us to stop gawking at the amazement of the empty tomb and begin living a Resurrected Life.

Of course, living into the resurrection is not a one and done event on Easter Day; over time, it find its own shape within each of us.. Because the truth is, Resurrection is so mind-blowing, so amazing, so unimaginable that each of us needs time to groove our own path into this completely new kind of life, including the disciples.

This is where the variety of Resurrection appearances is so helpful. By considering all the different responses to the Risen Lord I think we can each find our own unique paths into this journey we are called to take.

Living into Resurrection takes time.

What Thomas is asking for is no different than what Mary and the other disciples needed before they too could begin their journey out of the empty tomb and into Resurrected Life———Mary needed to hear Jesus say her name, before her journey out of the tomb could begin; the people on the Road to Emmaus needed to break bread with Jesus before their journey out of the tomb could begin; the disciples behind the locked doors needed to hear Jesus’ voice, look at his hands and look at his side before their journey out of the tomb could begin.

Thomas was no different. Neither are we.

Our Easter task is to be open to experiences of the resurrection so that we, too, can live a resurrected life….

what is it that we need to see, what is it that we need to notice, what is it that we need to experience to live fully into resurrection?

We can hear the story and say of course we “believe it,” but until we experience it for ourselves deep in our own souls, I don’t think it truly becomes a part of us.

Being resurrected in our own lives, walking this journey into new life? This is what the disciples in today’s Gospel were called to do and it’s what we are called to do, in all things and for all time— even in these most unusual and stressful days in which we currently live.

The power of Resurrected Life is profound and no pandemic, no stay at home orders, no economic downturn can keep this power at bay.

Resurrection in those early days of the first Easter would not be denied.

Nor will it be denied today.

How it looks—here and now, in these unusual days—may not be what we expected—-I hope it isn’t—for the journey out of our tomb and into the new life offered to us by and through the Risen One is a journey unlike any we have ever taken; it is so much more than an empty tomb or a lifting of a quarantine—it is all together new, it is beautiful and it is surprising.

This Easter season isn’t what we expected, we may not be living into it the way we wanted to or think we should. And you know what? I think that’s fine with Jesus, for what Jesus knows and what we are learning is that what always has been is not what always will be.

Thanks be to God. Christ is Risen. The Lord is Risen Indeed, Alleluia.

4.18.20

Alleluia Alleluia Give Thanks to the Risen Lord, Alleluia Alleluia give Praise to His name.

I woke up this morning with that hymn in my head.

So let’s give thanks, let’s give praise. Let’s live in gratitude and praise for what this day brings to us. I know some of us may need to look hard, but it’s there, things for which we are grateful and things which cause us to sing out our praise. May you find it today.

4.17.20

"When we go back."

We won't go back. Please may we never go back.

The only way out of what we are in is forward.

In Luke's Gospel account of Easter morning we read: "why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen."

We cannot look for what was because what was, was.
And what will be, what is? That is not back there it is here and now and it will continue to be.
Do not look for the living among the dead. Do not look for the now in the "was."
Live in the now for this is where life dwells.

4.16.20

Bright Thursday.

A day to remember where we were a week ago. How our sadness was turned to joy, how our heartbreak was molded into not just joy, but Easter joy.

Easter joy isn’t “oh I’m happy that is over with.” Easter Joy is altogether new.

For the empty tomb signifies the death of all that has bowed us down (if we let it).

The empty tomb makes room.

Can we let go of what was? Can we let go of how we want it to go back to being? Can we let go, loosening our hearts, minds and souls to receive the brightness of this new life?

Let go and receive Easter Joy in whatever way it comes to you this day. Alleluia.

4.15.20

From Luke’s Gospel:

Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.

How do we fail to recognize what this season in our life is offering us? It might be right before our very eyes.

It won’t be what we expect. It rarely is. But it’s there.

Look. See. Notice. And then...act.

4.14.20

Do not hold onto me.

Jesus’ direction to Mary is a direction for us all. Do not simply hold onto your beliefs (whatever they may be) live them so that as people encounter you they encounter the Holy.

This is the only way it works.

We cannot keep our faith— our worship even—- behind human-made walls.

We have been thrust into a new place.
As were Mary and the other apostles.
A new place in which we exercise what we know to be true and what we are learning to be true.

Do not hold on to what you think should be, enter what is.

4.13.20

Risen

For Easter Day

If you are looking

for a blessing,
do not linger
here.

Here

is only

emptiness,

a hollow,

a husk

where a blessing

used to be.

This blessing

was not content

in its confinement.

It could not abide

its isolation,

the unrelenting silence,

the pressing stench

of death.

So if it is

a blessing

you seek,

open your own

mouth.

Fill your lungs

with the air

this new

morning brings

and then

release it

with a cry.

Hear how the blessing

breaks forth

in your own voice,

how your own lips

form every word

you never dreamed

to say.

See how the blessing

circles back again,

wanting you to

repeat it,

but louder,

how it draws you,

pulls you,

sends you

to proclaim

its only word:

Risen.

—Jan Richardson, 2011

My friends, Risen! We have been given a complete and full new life. This is the day the Lord hath-- made. This is the new life the Lord hath made. There is new life among us. New life does nothing unless and until it is lived. Live this new life in whatever way you can. It cannot be held idle, it must be activated, engaged, lived. Live resurrection. Live it.

CD-S

4.12.20

An empty tomb.

A wave of grief.

A recognition--Mary! Rabbouni!

A holding on.

A gentle rebuke--no that is the old way, this is new.
Go and tell.
Go and be.
Go.
For early on the first day of this week, we, in the midst of this time, we have new life.
Given to all, for all, for ever.
It is ours to live, ours to share, ours to tell. It is ours to be. Do not hold on. Let go. Tell. Be. Alleluia.

4.11.20

On this day of absence we learn the depth of God’s presence.

Today, as Jesus lay among the dead, we know in our souls that his descent into death means that our own deaths will not be endings, but rather entries into the fullness of life.

Yet, in spite of this sure and certain promise of our faith,

when we experience the death of a beloved,

when they have entered the fullness and we are still here, in our emptiness, our hearts break and our souls lament.

Today we, just like the first followers of Jesus, are broken-hearted.

It is human nature to rush through the brokenness and into the fullness of what we know comes next.

I urge you not to hurry.

Sit and wait.

Sit and wonder.

Sit and weep.

Sit and pray.

The darkness of grief may seem too much to bear, but I promise you, it will not overtake you; for in this grief, God dwells.

So my friends, my siblings in Christ, on this Holy Saturday of quiet I invite you to linger for awhile, to experience the absence in whatever way it comes to you— do not reject what comes, just be in it.

For it is through this emptiness, this absence, this brokenness that God fills each of us anew.

4.10.20

I would have yelled “crucify him.!”

I’d like to say I wouldn’t have (wouldn’t we all?) but I would have betrayed, denied and hid.

That’s not to say I wouldn’t feel remorse or sadness or pain, I would have, I do.

Yet, the truth is harsh. And the truth is crucify him.

The good news is that in our darkness comes forgiving light.

This is one of those days we can say “they” or we can admit “we.”

4.9.20

Mandate Blessings

He took, he blessed, he broke, he ate.

I take, I bless, I brake, I eat.

Or at least I did.

How my heart broke when I read the section of Holy Scripture outlining Jesus’ institution of the last supper.
I cannot do this*.
I was grieved.
Then I read the gospel appointed for this day of mandate**

“Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”

And then

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.”

We are not mandated to take, eat.

We are mandated to love.

Taking, blessing, breaking and eating are sacred acts of remembering and being fed.

Loving is a command, it is a mandate, it has no space for equivocation.

I am to love. You are to love. We are to love.

And love can be done from anywhere, even isolation. How do you love in this time?

Pray.

Praying is a pure act of love.

Pray for those who are ill, pray for those who have died. Pray for those who expose themselves out of love for the other. Pray for those you miss, pray for those who have no one to miss them. Pray that you will have the wisdom to take what you have and share with those who have less.

Pray.

We are mandated to bless others through and by our love. I miss the Eucharist.

I am fasting from it and in that fast I am discovering something more powerful, more life-giving and frankly, more needed right now.

I am rediscovering the Blessing that is Love.

In these most holy of days I bless by prayer, I bless by watching, I bless by waiting. I bless by love. And by love, through love, and in love, I am blessed.

Be a blessing: Love.

*Episcopal priests cannot celebrate the Eucharist alone. Dogs don’t count.

**On this day we receive a new commandment, a mandate.

4.8.20

The Final Meditation

The Ending: Arrival in Jerusalem

Mark 11:1-11a

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.” ’ They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

‘Hosanna!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!’

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Meditation

There it is.

Jerusalem. The journey is ending here. Someway. Somehow.

It will end.

Or perhaps begin.

The walk into the city center is long, steep and foreboding.

The crowds are confused.

They seek a king, but they want a ruler.

They seek justice, but they want vengeance

They seek peace, but at what cost?

I’m not their king

I’m not their ruler

I’m not their answer.

I know it.

They’ll be so disappointed.

Angry.

Lost.

Some say they don’t know how to love me.

Sometimes, I don’t know how to love them.

https://youtu.be/4kPgo3lPxSQ

Closing Thoughts

We’re on the cusp of the tridduum, the most heartbreaking and sacred three days of the year, where we learn that love is confusing, painful, curious and absolutely necessary.

Welcome to these days, where the humanity of Jesus is laid bare for all to see.

Welcome to these days, where our faith is challenged, our hearts break and we emerge, at the last day, renewed, refreshed and restored.

The journey is picking up steam. Join us.

For now, sit quietly if you wish

Flee quickly if you must.

But carry this with you: God so loved US that God came to live among us, to understand us, to embrace us and ultimately, to be us.

Go in Peace.

*******

In the Farewell Discourse, Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain but your pain will turn into joy.” (Jn 16:20)

What we are on as people in the midst of a pandemic,is a journey of weeping and mourning.

What we are on as a people of faith is a journey of weeping and mourning.

There is a pull to race through the pain and get to the joy, but I say that not entering the pain—- fully, deeply, wholly—- cheats the joy.

Don’t cheat the joy.

I don’t intend to suggest that we must suffer to have joy, what I am saying is that pain, grief and loss are human emotions which, when given the honor to be felt, ready our souls for joy in a way that I find impossible to explain. It is a lived thing leading us to another lived thing.

A joy preceded by sorrow is a joy unlike any other.

It’s Holy Wednesday

Passover begins at sunset

Ramadan begins in about 2 weeks.

The Great Abrahamic Faiths are on a journey of re-membering.

We are on a journey.

Take the journey.

Don’t cheat the joy4.7.20

The sixth of seven Mediations on the Life of Christ, originally written by Pete and me in 2012/13.The lithograph of feeding the multitudes couldn't be edited well enough to include her. This pic is from my trip to the Holy Land in 2011.

The Ministry

John 6:2-14
A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming towards him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’ He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.’ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?’ Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

Meditation

Feed the hungry.

Clothe the naked.

Touch the untouchable

Find the Lost

Free the prisoners

Beat your swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks

Let justice roll like a river, righteousness like a never failing stream.

Is my message that confusing, is my intent that opaque?

Feed.

Clothe.

Love.

And do it all in peace.

John Lennon: Imagine

https://youtu.be/YkgkThdzX-8

********

Holy Tuesday was the day Pete and offered a service of "Healing from the Grief that Binds Us."

I have shared parts of this service before. I may have shared this, I don't recall.

Today I have heard an underlying lament in so many voices.

So here is this, from a liturgy of healing written and designed by The Rev. Deacon Pete Dempesy-Sims and The Rev. Cathy Dempesy-Sims, c. 2013 (yes it was a prophetic service. I never knew how personal this would become just 4 years later. )

"We grieve for many things, that which we have done, that which we have left undone.

We grieve for hopes dashed and plans unfulfilled

For love never fulfilled and for love lost.

For illness. For death. For loneliness and anguish.

And for those things not mentioned, those things lurking in our hearts, those things hidden in our souls.

We lay all of this, gracious and loving God, on your altar of hope, your altar of forgiveness, your altar of solace, your altar of Love. Amen."

Prayer of Gathering and Focus

Your grief, O God, is as eternal as your love. You, yourself, weep for us in our sadness. The sorrow in our lives is felt in your own heart, as you always reach towards us in compassion. Reach for us now, and be our very present help in this time of sadness, loss and grief. Speak to us, God; comfort, heal, and restore us. Amen.

4.6.20

5. Become Fisher of People

Matthew 4:18-22

As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the lake—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’ Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.

Meditation

We need each other. We were built for community.

Once I rose from those muddy waters I experienced a profound and utter loneliness. God, my Divine and Loving Parent, my Abba, was no where to be found. I’m sure, I KNOW God was not gone, I just lost track, got too scared, too closed up, too human, to hear God’s words, to feel the Divine touch. It was there, in the middle of the desert mirages, in the darkness of those long nights that I discovered, that I realized, that I believed, that I KNEW we need each other. And so I began my search.

I began to fish.

For those who would share.

Those who would listen.

Those who would challenge.

Those who would laugh.

Cry.

Shout.

Whisper.

Hope.

Dream.

Despair.

Rejoice.

I searched for those who would Follow Me.

Fishers for People. Each and Everyone.*

*I would note that in this time of physically distancing, being in community is even more poignant. Strive to be in community while maintaining safety. Never assume someone is “ok.”

Music by Iona Community Choir

https://youtu.be/qer1dou6-xg

“What’s with Holy Week ?You know it works out.”

So many times I’ve been asked that.

This is what’s with it:

We walk down, down, down into the deep abyss of what humanity is capable of. We watch and remember as friends turn on one another. We watch and remember as hate appears to triumph over love, as despair seems to overtake hope. We watch a man who is also God take this journey and we attempt to take it with him. For when we take this journey we remember the darkness we often walk in, the darkness we allow to overtake others.
We remember that we turn as quickly from Hosanna! to Crucify Him! as they did.
For we are they, they are we.
We walk deep into what it is to be human, flawed, fearful and yet still (always) capable of—and most importantly given—redemption.
We walk this walk with Jesus because these days are “never forget” moments. We walk this walk because without death there is not life.Because there is no grief without love Because this is the week we, as Christians, are aware of how closely God walks with us, if we will simply, obediently and honestly, walk with God.

4.5.20

As we say goodnight to Palm Sunday 2020, I offer you the “peek a boo donkey” from this morning’s Palm Sunday worship at Trinity Retreat Center’s donkey sanctuary.

Holy Week can be a difficult journey.

You needn’t enter it all at once, ease into the love, the grief, the confusion, the sorrow, and ultimately the emptiness that becomes so incredibly and amazingly full.

Take it as you can.

Learn from the donkey....

go at your own pace...

peeking when you can,

turning your head when you must.

The Poet thinks about the donkey by Mary Oliver: Poetry for Palm Sunday

The Poet thinks about the donkey

On the outskirts of Jerusalem

the donkey waited.
Not especially brave, or filled with understanding,
he stood and waited.
How horses, turned out into the meadow,
leap with delight!
How doves, released from their cages,
clatter away, splashed with sunlight.
But the donkey, tied to a tree as usual, waited.
Then he let himself be led away.
Then he let the stranger mount.
Never had he seen such crowds!
And I wonder if he at all imagined what was to happen.
Still, he was what he had always been: small, dark, obedient.
I hope, finally, he felt brave.
I hope, finally, he loved the man who rode so lightly upon him,
as he lifted one dusty hoof and stepped, as he had to, forward.

Mary Oliver from her book Thirst.

4.4.20

The Baptism of Christ

Mark 1:9-11

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’

Meditation

The water was muddy and warm.

John’s hand on the base of my neck, strong.

John has this way of keeping you under the water long enough for panic to set in. You find yourself longing for breath and light and then, suddenly you’re thrust up from the deep, drenched to the bone, grateful beyond words for air and somehow, some way changed.

And so it was for me.

I barely had time to realize what had just happened when everyone else seemed to fall away and I was there alone, knee deep in the Jordan, with a presence beyond comprehension sending me--laying upon me—grace blessing.

I am God’s Beloved.

I am. I am. I am.

“Wade in the Water”

https://youtu.be/1Edl29urtc0

4.3.20

Just heard that Bill Withers died. https://youtu.be/rdlPVBvkr-s

Lean on each other. We need each other to get through this season of illness and loss. If we learn to lean on each other, if we remember to always think of how are actions effect our neighbor, this world will thrive. Acting only for ourselves darkens the world. We have had enough darkness, haven't we? Let there be light (an ode to my LU pals) and let that light be our of love neighbor. If you ever need a friend, be like Bill Withers, just call on your sister, brother, sibling. Now go wash your hands and stay home.

Lyrics to Bill Wither's Lean On Me. OH MY GOSH! Thank you guys so much for the 2,000+ views! This is my most popular video yet! ❤

YOUTUBE.COM

Lean On Me- Bill Withers (Lyrics)Lyrics to Bill Wither's Lean On Me. OH MY GOSH! Thank you guys so much for the 2,000+ views! This is my most popular video yet! ❤

The Boy Jesus Teaching in the Temple

Luke 2: 39-52

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him.

Now every year his parents went to Jerusalem for the festival of the Passover. And when he was twelve years old, they went up as usual for the festival. When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travellers, they went a day’s journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, ‘Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.’ He said to them, ‘Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?’ But they did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

Meditation

These trips down to Jerusalem for Passover can be fun. Our traveling party is quite large and we get to catch up with family and friends, unencumbered by daily tasks. To be honest, it’s also a break for us young mothers. The kids weave in and out of our caravan, playing with cousins, discovering new friends and taking in the adventure of travel, all the while being watched over by aunts and uncles, older cousins and trusted friends. Now, to your modern ears, losing track of a 12 year old for an entire day may seem horrible, but it’s easier than you may think. The true horror was the realization that he was gone. How would we ever find him?!

It was then that Simeon’s warning really stung. Could it be that, after a short twelve years he was gone?

Yes.

Even though we found him, and he was fine, something within him had changed. And something within me, was awakened with His words: “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” Yes, of course, he was not ours to keep any longer. And my heart was, indeed, pierced.

“Of the Father’s Love Begotten”

https://youtu.be/cOF9JLJkPis

4.2.20

Meditation 2: The Presentation

The current rector of Good Shepherd took pictures of the lithographs for me to add to these posts. Thank you, Mike Hadaway!

Luke 2:25-35

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,

according to your word;

for my eyes have seen your salvation,

which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,

a light for revelation to the Gentiles

and for glory to your people Israel.’

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’

Meditation

A return to a sense of normal, that’s all I’ve been longing for since the angel’s visit over 10 months ago. When Joseph and I took Jesus up to the temple for the rites of purification and thanksgiving, we bought the requisite two doves and then entered the Temple with the hundreds of others there that day. Joseph didn’t seem alarmed when ol’ Simeon came running over, but I held the boy a little closer, a little tighter. As he approached I saw the old priest's eyes--the wise and wonderful, caring and loving, excited and rejoicing eyes of Simeon, the oldest priest around. He was powered by something more, by something different, by something beyond understanding. He truly was a man of Yahweh, a man of God. His message was one of hope and warning. I can’t shake his words: this child is destined to change the fortunes of Israel forever and you, dear mother, your heart will be pierced.

I can’t tell you what that means, but on some level, I know and I am scared.

The Nunc Dimittis

https://youtu.be/XkVoRt73-4U

In Morning Prayer today, I used my interpretation of the Lord’s

prayer (while relishing the sunrise, which I didn’t photograph. This one from South Africa will need to do)

Holy One in heaven, may Your name be always and forever praised,

may Your dream for creation come to all, may Your will be the only thing we follow now and always.
Give us —-all of us—-daily bread.
Forgive us when we forget You and live only for ourselves.
Help us to forgive others as we ourselves are forgiven.
Direct us toward all that is light and love,
helping us to reject darkness and hate in ourselves and all others;
for You are the Almighty,
You are the Ruler,
You are the Power
and
You are the Glory, always and forever. Amen.

4.1.20

I took this picture last year when I was blessed to travel to South Africa. Those who know me well know that zebras are important to me.

Why?

Because they maintain the pace of their slowest member.

They will never leave a slow/weak/young/old herd-mate behind.

They just slow down to match their pace.

As we all find a new way to go through our days, may we never forget those who can't keep up with us. Let's not leave them behind, instead let's slow our pace.

Happy April!

When Pete and I served at the then two communities of faith--Ascension and Good Shepherd---we designed a service for Holy Wednesday called "Meditations on the Life of Christ."

Here's how it worked---Good Shepherd has gorgeous French lithographs depicting the life of Christ. We took seven of these lithographs and would set one in front of the congregation while the corresponding gospel narrative for that scene was read. I then shared a brief reflection on the scene. We then played a musical selection. The music was all from my iPod and it varied from classical, to contemporary.
This was a very meaningful project for Pete and me.
We designed it as a gift to our community.
This year I am sharing one of the stories and reflections each day leading up to Maundy Thursday.
Unfortunately, I do not have reproductions of the lithographs to share.
When possible I will share some image.
At the end of the reflection I will post a link to the music. I offer this in the same fashion we originally offered it--to our (now my) community. Take what you like. Leave the rest.
Peace to all.

1. Nativity

Luke 2:1-7

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

Meditation

It was cold, a damp cut through to the bone type of cold. Everything hurt so that I didn’t even realize the time had come until it was quite urgent. And so we bedded down in the stable section of the inn. Back among the sheep and the goats, we tied our donkey and the Boy was born amidst the hay and the dung and the animals. I guess you could say he came in the normal way but nothing has felt normal about this at all. There’s something special, something different coursing through this most normal of events: birth.

I’m so very tired. He’s been fed. I will rest before we begin our return journey.

https://youtu.be/1rOPmca7-FY

3.31.20

I love Psalm 126. It was one of the psalms for the daily office today. In particular I love the verse:

Those who sowed with tears *

will reap with songs of joy.

I love this because I have lived it, am living it and will live it again.

From Sunday's gospel (the story of Lazarus when Jesus wept) to the fullness of next week when we walk through the journey that Christians call Holy Week (when Jesus weeps and wails in the garden) to what seems to be a horrific two weeks facing us in this age of COVID-19, there are tears.

Tears are cleansing.

Tears are healing.

Tears are necessary.

The songs of joy we sing today (for yes, there is so much joy to be found in these days) and the songs of joy we'll sing tomorrow have all been watered by the tears we shed.

I wonder-- If we refuse to cry, how does our joy get watered?

There is an ebb and flow of life, just as the night moves into the day and the day moves into the night, we ebb and flow, from despair to exultation, from sadness to gladness, from sowing with tears to reaping with joy.

So wherever you find yourself this evening, be it sowing or reaping, know this: tears lead us into joy. Always. We just need to keep crying and keep singing.

For if we hold back the tears, how will our joy get watered?

3.30.20

Dean Melinda Hall, Cathedral of St Paul, Erie, PA

I’ve been pondering yesterday’s reading about Jesus and his friends, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Jesus gets word that Lazarus is ill; he waits and arrives after Lazarus is dead. When he encounters everyone’s sorrow, Jesus is moved to tears. He raises Lazarus from the dead, revealing God’s intent is for life, but I suppose this week I am struck by the tears of Jesus. I don’t think it is with pity or sympathy that Jesus weeps; it is with compassion, with empathy, with solidarity. There is a difference: Jesus unites himself to their suffering, allows it to enter his heart, so it is with true solidarity that Jesus weeps. I imagine Jesus weeping in solidarity with overwhelmed medical personnel and those who have lost loved ones, with those isolated and those who are anxious, with those in harm’s way at home and with those just trying to live in this strange time and feeling ill-equipped. I know this story involves Jesus declaring himself life and resurrection, I’m not there right now. I’m in need of the God who weeps with us, who never leaves us alone, who enters our pain. I am sure God is working for life in the midst of all that is happening, but I am grateful that God doesn’t shy away from the pain or offer easy answers about suffering. I am grateful for a God who weeps with us.

To complement Melinda's meditation from this morning a prayer:

Your grief, O God, is as eternal as your love. You weep for us in our sadness. The sorrow in our lives is felt in your own heart, as you reach out to us in compassion.

Reach for us now and be our very present help in this time of sadness, loss and grief.

Speak to us, God in your eternally soothing voice, may your comfort heal and restore us, in this time and forever. Amen.3.29.20

As dawn breaks I am awake to and aware of the world before, in and beyond COVID-19.

A world where cancer continues to rage, where addiction and mental illness march on, and where unrelenting grief keeps being, well, unrelenting. It is enough to make one weep...just like Every. Single. Day.

One may ask, where's the good news in that?

I'll tell you where. Everywhere. You see, weeping isn't the end, grief isn't the end, bad news isn't the end. Weeping, grief and bad news are part of this thing called life (to quote that great poet of our time, Prince). To live is to experience bad things, sad things, things which make us mad. To live is to love and to love is to share in the heartache of those we love, and they share in ours.

It is holy to grieve and to lament and to be angry and to weep.

Just read the story of Lazarus (John 11:1-45) or (and) read the wonderful story from Ezekiel (37:1-14) and learn that when we cry out "our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely," God hears us, Jesus weeps with us, the whole of creation groans with us. For while many of us may feel alone, we are not.

Mortal, these bones CAN live! Lazarus, come out!

My friends, life is full of twists and turns, it is full of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, life and death.

Today is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice if we can, weep if we must; let us hope as we can and tremble as we must; let us physically distance as we must while connecting as we desire.

For whatever today brings, it is sacred, it is holy, it is, because God Is. Amen

3.28.20

None

3.27.20

A Prayer for Staying Still and Knowing God

Holy One, as my feet stand firmly in this one place, help me to remember that in not moving I aid in the healing of the whole world.

I hold fast in knowing that by being still

I am engaging in outrageous, incredible, and amazing love.
Amen

3.26.20

An anthem for our days.

And the one poor child, he saved this world

And there's probably ten million more who probably could

If we all just stopped and said a prayer for them.

My friends, pray in the way that works for you. Pray to the God of your understanding. Pray that we all remember the world is one big neighborhood and we need to save our neighbors as we ourselves wish to be saved. This is how it works---I save you and you save me. Doing that will get us out of this pandemic and bring us to a place that (I believe) will bring us all closer to the dream the Divine has for us all.

Saving others saves us, that's how it has always worked.

#WashYourHands

#StayHome

#SavingOthersSavesUs

#TheWorldIsOneBigNeighborhood

#BeAGoodNeighbor

Goo-Goo Dolls Better Days

3.25.20

Holy One in heaven, may Your name be always and forever praised,

may Your dream for creation come to all, may Your will be the only thing we follow now and for always.

Give us —-all of us—-daily bread.

Forgive us when we forget You and live only for ourselves.

Help us to forgive others as we ourselves are forgiven.

Direct us toward all that is light and love,

helping us to reject darkness and hate in ourselves and all others;

for You are the Almighty,

You are the Ruler,

You are the Power

and You are the Glory, always and forever. Amen.

3.24.20

I think a lot of us are in the same boat as the disciples—“how can we do it?”

How can we be the church in this new way? Many of us have tried taking the familiar of Sunday morning and move it ( force it?) into the current circumstance.

I pray we will take a lesson from this morning’s gospel reading and learn how to feed the world in new and miraculous ways. May it be so!

Mark 8:1-10 (NRSV)
In those days when there was again a great crowd without anything to eat, Jesus called his disciples and said to them, “I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. If I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way—and some of them have come from a great distance.” His disciples replied, “How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?” He asked them, “How many loaves do you have?” They said, “Seven.” Then he ordered the crowd to sit down on the ground; and he took the seven loaves, and after giving thanks he broke them and gave them to his disciples to distribute; and they distributed them to the crowd. They had also a few small fish; and after blessing them, he ordered that these too should be distributed. They ate and were filled; and they took up the broken pieces left over, seven baskets full. Now there were about four thousand people. And he sent them away. And immediately he got into the boat with his disciples and went to the district of Dalmanutha.

**************************************************************************************************************

3.23.20

The Uses of Sorrow

by Mary Oliver

(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)

Someone I loved once gave me

a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand

that this, too, was a gift.

**************************

This season we are in is a gift.

Learning to be community regardless of obstacles, barriers, fear.

Open the gift.

——————————————————

Gratitude for colleagues who maintain good humor, friends who will FaceTime and dogs who have no idea why I only leave the house to walk them.

Tonight we say thank you

3.22.20

This is the day the Lord hath made.

We will rejoice— in unfamiliar ways— and yet still be glad in it.

Holy One of All:

We rejoice and worship in new ways today. Your name will be praised, our hearts will be gladdened, and we will see the sacred among us, with eyes opened to the all together new.

Today and always, let us follow you in gladness and peace.

Amen.

3.21.20

It is Well With My Soul

As my mother was nearing death, a friend brought her this recording of “It Is Well With My Soul.” As it played her eyes closed, she smiled and sighed. It was a beautiful moment of peace for her and for me. These days I am longing to pick up the phone and speak to Mom because whenever something crazy was happening in the world this woman who lived through the Great Depression, WWII, Assassinations, Recessions, Riots, more wars, 9/11 and so much more, would carry on with a strength and dignity this world may never see again. So even though the atonement theology doesn’t match up with my theology, whenever I listen to Chris Rice’s version of this hymn I smile.

Mom, the world feels like it’s going to hell in a handbasket, but it is well with my soul. Thanks and Amen.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say

It is well, it is well, with my soul

It is well

With my soul

It is well, it is well with my soul

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

Let this blest assurance control,

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

And hath shed His own blood for my soul

It is well (it is well)

With my soul (with my soul)

It is well, it is well with my soul

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought

My sin, not in part but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, o my soul

It is well (it is well)

With my soul (with my soul)

It is well, it is well with my soul

It is well (it is well)

With my soul (with my soul)

It is well, it is well with my soul

Source: LyricFind

Songwriters: Philip Paul Bliss / Christopher C. C. Stafford

3.20.20

As the sun sets, I am scared. Worn out. Worried. Heartsick. I remembered a litany I wrote years ago for a service about grief and loss at Church of the Ascension. I searched, found it, and here it is,

Compassionate God, you know our deepest longings and sorrows. Hear our sorrow and let our cry come to you.

Stand near in the darkness, O God.

We are broken by our loss and afraid of our future, overwhelmed by all we cannot understand.

Stand near in the darkness, O God.

We are heavy with sadness and grief, sick with despair, aching with emptiness;

Stand near in the darkness, O God.

We are confused and enraged at what feels unjust. We are frightened to find ourselves doubting your love;

Stand near in the darkness, O God.

Turn your heart towards us, healing God. We have lost our way and feel alone in our sorrow.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Help us to grieve honestly and bravely, allowing our tears to fall freely.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Teach us to trust you with all that we feel and for all that we need.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Release us from blame towards others or ourselves. Forgive us our failures at love.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Heal us of shame and guilt; save us from regret.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Give us grace to endure, and the courage of love in all that we do.

Turn your heart towards us and let mercy flow.

Save and restore us, Good Lord, by your love. Only you can heal us.

Send your life-giving Spirit to renew our broken hearts.