Sabbath Rest and COVID Reflection

Those who follow this blog will note that I have not posted a sermon the past two weeks.  This will remain through to mid-September.  Lutheran Bishops and their assistants across Canada have taken turns to provide a sermon for each week.  The intent is to allow clerics to take some much needed rest/vacation time, and allow them to be filled by the Word. I am taking Friday and Saturdays as vacation days - so far a blessing.  For access to hearing the Word from the Bishops visit 

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEaqcptLthDll5SjpDy9HUUl0RQKnGmkO

I am grateful for their gift!

As I enter a sabbath rest, I realize how much I have changed over the past three months.  I am in a schedule that is comfortable in a sense that it marks my days with a structure and purpose. I am enjoying how the church has adapted to the world in which we find ourselves. I have initiated practices (many of them only wishful thinking before COVID) that I hope to keep as life continues to change.

I practice being more efficient and 'less' productive/busy.

I practice quelling the need to do more, prove myself, do things because I feel I have to or should, do things because of perceived expectations.

I practice managing fear - my own and others.

I practice deepening discipleship - my own and with others.

I practice patience with myself and others.

I practice sharing tasks and asking for help.

I practice caution and sacrifice of wants for the common good.

I practice showing my real face, rather than masking feelings and 'being strong.'

I practice rest and calm while 'doing nothing.'

I practice saying 'no.'

I practice letting go.

I practice being comfortable with a lack of control.

I practice accepting an unknown future.

I practice gratitude!

I practice silence and listening to others.....

...until September.

Hugs and Son-shine

Deafening Silence

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, these three, the ever-lasting Trinity. Before all began, in the years of our time, and reaching to infinity.  Amen.      ---James M. Fitzpartrick O.M.I.

21 secs of silence

In an article for the BBC, Tom Stafford wrote: A "deafening silence" is a striking absence of noise, so profound that it seems to have its own quality.  Objectively it is impossible for one silence to be any different from another. But the way we use the phrase hints at a psychological truth.  The secret to a deafening silence is the period of intense noise that comes immediately before it.  When this ends, the lack of sound appears quieter than silence. This sensation, as your mind tries to figure out what your ears are reposting, is what leads us to call a silence deafening.  What is happening here is a result of a process called adaptation. 

I am thinking about silence today for a number of reasons:

This is the last Sunday for a while that you will hear my words spoken for the sermon. For the next 12 weeks Synodical Bishops and Assistants will be providing the Word to be preached; across the country Lutherans will be united as one body as we hear a shared reflection of the Word. My voice –although preaching others’ words- will be silent. 

I am grateful for this gift, as an allowance for a few days off each week to account for vacation time, creative time, and for rejuvenation.  On the other hand, part of who I am is expressed through preaching, working out -aloud- theology and application of God’s word; this is my voice.  I find it difficult to trust that others will offer the words needed on any given Sunday for this context and community.  On Sundays, rather than attentively listening, I much prefer using my voice.

That is, until events of the world happen, as have happened over the past couple of weeks.

On racism, Black lives matter, protests, and government responses, I have lots to say and nothing to say. ... my sense is that the appropriate response -for the moment- is deafening silence.

For over 20 years, LARC, Lutheran Anglican Roman Catholic Interchurch Committee, -- a group of lay and clergy from churches in Southwestern ON—have met to organize events, retreats, and prepare shared resources with ecumenism as the focus; as scripture says: “that all may be one.” They share that one area of convergence is belief in the Trinity, with a common expression through the Creeds of the church across the centuries. The group acknowledges that “words are slippery things, changing meaning over time and space. The questions arise again in our time: What is this Trinity in which we believe? What difference does it make that God is Triune?

Part of celebrating Trinity Sunday is the continued wrestling with the who, where, what, why, and how of God; not that we will ever figure God out or be able to fully articulate our experience or experiences of God.  We catch only glimpses of the Trinity.  We work out our understanding of God based on the relationship between the ‘persons’ of the Trinity.

LARC writes: “We’re in much the same situation as Jesus was when he spoke about the Reign of God.  He told us it’s like a mustard seed; it’s like a pearl of great price; it’s like yeast in flour; it’s like a net catching fish.  Each of these word pictures or parables offers a glimpse.  But none explains or describes it fully.  As each of these word pictures, and others, proved inadequate, Jesus offered another.  And in the end, he showed us.  The Reign of God is experienced.”

Through the past few weeks, our responses, our feelings, our thoughts, our beliefs, our reflections, applications, interpretations, of “Black lives matter,” the right to protest, overt racism, systemic racism, are all rather complicated and confused. This is good! It means that we are wrestling with relationships. For those of us who are faithful Christians, wrestling with relationship also includes wrestling with our relationships in relation to God; and God with us. Where is God in this mess? What is God saying? What is God expecting of us? And are there – like on Pentecost in the giving of the Spirit- varying callings, based on context and relationship?

This week my Bible spoke volumes to me on silence  - the Trinity dancing in and around, through and between, amidst and beyond – human relationships and experiences. In silence, as I read blogs and posts from Lutheran clergy who do not identify as ‘white,’ hearing rather disturbing stories; there was a deafening silence. I was reminded – embarrassed in some ways- to acknowledge that I do not understand what racism feels like. I have no experiences that speak negatively to the colour of my skin. I can say I have felt left out, discriminated against for any number of reasons; but it is not the same.  I can only listen and say thank you for telling me your story. I read other blogs and posts this week that were embarrassing in a different way; people trying to articulate their thoughts to a point and in doing so just added fuel to a fire; breaking relationships, damaging others. And I had this prayer ---that all would just be silent.

This week my Bible spoke volumes – God’s relationship to deafening silence:

I was lead to ...

Hear the deafening silence as the Spirit hovered over the void, the waters, before the beginning.

Hear the deafening silence of the seventh day as God rested after a cacophony of creating.

Hear the deafening silence that followed an earthquake, a fire, wherein God whispers to a scared and hiding prophet Elijah.

Hear the deafening silence of the disciples after hearing God’s voice “This is my beloved Son, whom I have chosen.”

Hear the deafening silence that followed Jesus rebuking the wind; saying to the sea ‘Peace be still.’

Hear the deafening silence of the Saducees that followed Jesus arguing points of the Law and what resurrection is.

Hear the deafening silence that followed Pilate’s questions to Jesus to explain truth, to answer whether or not he is a King.

Hear the deafening silence that followed the mocking convict, “if you are the Son of God, save yourself and us.”

Hear the deafening silence that followed Jesus death.

Hear the deafening silence of a cold stone tomb.

Hear the deafening silence of 50 days, for God alone -waiting in silence; being still and knowing that God is God.

And then the Spirit came in the sound of wind and rush of flame. For the disciples, words from Ecclesiastes chapter 3 happen, A time to keep silent -turned to -adapts to- a time to speak.

In the end, all I have this morning is a pregnant pause. It is a deafening silence that pushes out the noise and rhetoric. The deafening silence holds my heart for a desire for right relationships; longs for racism to be a thing of the past. The deafening silence is seeing the Trinity dancing in Black lives matter, in protests, in the prayers made for world leaders (especially for those I don’t care for so much), in blogs as people tell their truth. This deafening silence is a figuring out what I have heard, and a waiting for my time to keep silent to adapt to a time to speak, to act ---#forthehealingofthewholeworld.  

 Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, these three, the ever-lasting Trinity. Before all began, in the years of our time, and reaching to infinity. Amen.

 

The Fruit of the Spirit Expands

PENTECOST: Acts 2: 1-21; 1 Corinthians 12: 3b -13

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful, and kindle in us the fire of your love.
                                                                                                    (Gospel Acclamation ELBW)

I am a reader and devour books quickly. During COVID-19, I decided to change my reading habits to include books I do not usually gravitate towards. This has meant an increase in various forms of non-fiction; the latest being Michelle Obama’s autobiographical book, “Becoming.”  Her telling of her story, and that of her family, has influenced my reading of the text for Pentecost Sunday.
As the sound of violent wind fills the air and tongues of fire come and rest on those gathered in the house where they were sitting, all of them began to speak in other languages. The Spirit presented a powerful show that day in Jerusalem, first with the experience just described, followed by open-air preaching – wherein the disciples were so empowered, lively, robust, shaken--- people concluded they were inebriated; drunk.

As weeks progress, Jerusalem bears witness to many acts of the Spirit – acts beyond robust proclamation of the good news. As the movement spreads, glimpses of the Spirit’s work are captured in texts like the letter to Corinth, where residents encounter gifts and fruit of the Spirit: gifts of healing, the working of miracles, speaking or interpreting tongues, wisdom, knowledge, and faith.
Applying the movement and works of the Spirit to today, what does the world encounter? The people standing in the marketplace or the large city parks?  Do they hear preaching or tongues, see healing, experience miracles, be given interpretation, acquire wisdom, knowledge, or faith?
I am going to say NO, but YES. The terminology we use, the spiritual virtues we practice, the gifts and fruit needed today are different; so the Spirit in her wisdom has moved with the winds of time and expresses herself in new forms.
Let us return to Michelle Obama’s book. Michelle separates the her life into three sections: becoming, becoming us, becoming more. Her sections remind me of our life with God and the way we understand participating with God through liturgy and ritual.

Becoming -
Becoming begins in the waters of baptism. Through water and the Word the Spirit whelms us with grace to flow through our life as we become. Promises are made of how we will participate in becoming: hearing the Word, receiving the Holy Supper, knowing the Lord’s prayer, the Creed, the Ten Commandments; taking care of God’s creation, and living with a disposition to strive for justice and peace.
Becoming, for Michelle, meant a lot of time rigourously working on her plan. From a young age doing her best at school, learning all she could, moving through to university to her corporate lawyer job. All one needs to do to become is to follow the plan, working hard and doing extra, each step of the way to become all you can be; so as not to be a disappointment, to rise above, to accept and receive every possibility in life. It takes determination and rigour.

Becoming Us -
The scripture from Corinthians says for by the Spirit we are all baptized into the one body (vs. 13).
Baptism -although a nice photo-op- is not about the baptized individual. The liturgy is literally the work of the people, a whole community of baptized who together as one body live Jesus into the world.
Becoming Us , becoming community, is not always easy.
In this section of the book Michelle speaks about growing in relationship with Barak. Barak, had a different set of gifts. He was high spirited, spontaneous, would step aside from the plan because a different path was interesting or worth pursuing. Michelle had to dabble in patience to learn to ‘become us.’
And from visits I have made with grandparents patience is a gift many struggle to employ.
For those of us who like a  ‘correct order’ -baptism, Sunday School, confirmation, getting envelopes, joining church council, bringing up own children in the church, dying as church member – there is a sadness or grief that comes with changing times. Across the church more baptisms are happening for teenagers, combined with Confirmation classes; mothers or fathers are being baptized as their new baby is baptized.  Becoming is being welcomed in – period.  Some like the ordered plan, others diverge up or down  interesting paths—the Spirit is manifest in different ways through different gifts.

Becoming More –
This is the section of the Michelle’s book that has me grapple with the coming of the Spirit and what that means for communities of faith. As a family, the Obamas, were happy and their jobs were contributing to better lives for the people in their community. This was not enough for Barak’s spirit...and although it would drastically change their life, and mean going outside of her regular comfort zone, there was no way that Michelle would hold Barak back from the expenditure of his gifts for the common good. This required the combination of spiritual virtues: rigour and patience.
The drive behind ‘becoming more’ was wound up in Barak’s gift of optimism --- which Barak had (has) a thousand-fold over. The optimism was captivating, dynamic, and contagious.

Gifts and fruit of the Spirit, spiritual virtues – whatever term you want to use-
the letter to the Corinthians suggests that the manifestation of the Spirit is for the common good. Verse 7 says: To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. Prompting me to consider what the manifestation of the Spirit is today? What spiritual gifts or fruit would be for the common good?  What is the common good in need of?

In recent months, ---becoming, becoming us, becoming more--- in the life of the church is changing. How we come to belong, how we ‘become us’ when not in the same room, how we ‘become more’ as we consider opening physical spaces and shaping a world amidst, beyond, COVID. The Spirit shakes us this morning, not through the sound of a rushing wind and tongues of fire, but through remaining pandemic – become, become us, become more.

Michelle wrote: “Becoming takes equal parts patience and rigour. .. Becoming is never giving up on the idea that there’s more growing to be done. ... Optimism is a form of faith, an antidote for fear.” Perhaps these are the 21st century gifts and fruit of the Spirit. Patience, rigour, optimism. These are the virtues, practices, components of faith, for ideal faithful living in the midst and beyond pandemic. If there was ever a time, the time is now, for the Spirit to shake us into new ways of becoming.  As we are shaken, look up, put your hands up to receive the power of the Holy Spirit. On this Pentecost, a birthing of church becoming more, fall on us breathe of God, fill us patience, rigour, optimism, for the common good.


Holy Wisdom, Holy Word,
Through the waters of baptism we are embraced and belong.
Through worship, hearing the Word, and proclaiming the good news, we become us – a community of God’s faithful people.
Through your being a Spirit, of - wisdom and understanding, council and might, knowledge and the fear of the Lord, and the joy in your presence - you shake us to be more.
For the healing of the world, may we become more!
Amen.

Resurrection - Shaken Not Stirred

A person of Christian persuasion walks into a bar, to find God as the bartender. After perusing the martini menu, the person asks God what God recommends.  God replies: a Resurrection – shaken not stirred.

This is the 7th week of Easter, an Easter where we have walked with the disciples in their grief, and lived through a season of grief ourselves. If you were to describe this season – would you say we have been stirred or shaken?

The disciples were certainly shaken, first by Jesus’ death, followed by a strange 40 days:
After being laid in the tomb the women come to anoint the body and it is gone, the tomb is found empty; we hear that Jesus walks with followers along the road to Emmaus (unrecognized), then recognized in the breaking of bread, at which point Jesus vanishes; only to appear behind closed doors and just as quickly disappear.  There is breakfast on the beach with Jesus. And finally Jesus is with them on the Mount of Olives, and then poof, gone into the heavens.
All of this shakes their understanding of death and life and spirit and life-after; of belief, of what is possible. They are shaken with questions never before contemplated and implications of resurrection to faith and life and next steps.

Beyond resurrection Jesus has turned everything upside down:
Their idea of kingdom – shaken
Their hopes and dreams of living as an unoccupied people – shaken
Their idea of power - shaken
Their understanding of God’s relationship with the world – shaken
Their meaning and purpose of life – shaken

Until recently the Canadian church -and the wider community- had settled into a life of being comfortably stirred - with just enough action, social change, and loving our neighbour to feel that we had furthered the kingdom in some way. We were resurrection followers in as much as we retold resurrection stories and talked of Jesus as our friend.
Resurrection for us was a pale representation of experiences and stories passed down through the generations from the Apostles. Power, glory, healing, passion, community living/commonwealth all shadows of the resurrection in the hands of the Apostles.
But now, we have been shaken – everything has been upended. We have been forced to celebrate Easter – experience resurrection- in a season of grief.

Lutheran pastor and author Walter Wangerin wrote a book called, “Mourning into Dancing.” In it he uses story to walk with people through grief. Along the journey he declares that one of the stages of grief is resurrection. The assertion is that resurrection is part of grief – grows in grief. Resurrection is not a leaving behind of what was, where everything is recreated new and shiny, and all is good and normal and happy.
Resurrection is a lingering residue of memories, sorrow, endings, suffering, pain. Resurrection is not a rebound from ashes, mires, laments, tears, and losses, rather; robust resurrection embodies the laments and tears and losses, that produce the change that has been effected in our lives because of grief.
Embodying grief is embracing being shaken not stirred; a resurrection with relevance.

American theologian, William Willimon, in commentary on Acts wrote: “Luke’s ‘history’ is the story of that new reality which has turned the world upside down, relativized all existing relationships, and enabled believers to live as people ‘between the times’ --- between the end of an old age held by the powers of death and evil and a new age where the future is still to be fully realized, still open-ended to the movements of the Spirit.” 

I see the present church in a space, not so unlike that of the accounts of the early church.
A new reality has been thrust upon us – we have been shaken- and come to find out we have been
adaptable, agile, quickly responsive, creatively innovate, and open to new possibilities. As Willimon said we are ‘between times’... “the future is still to be fully realized, still open-ended to the movements of the Spirit.”

We have spent 7 weeks moving in new ways;  my favourite being a dancing offering plate and Tim’s dancing at the end of live-stream worship on Facebook.  Lots of people have sent notes hoping that the dancing continues when we start meeting face-to-face.
In Wangerin’s book that I mentioned earlier, he ends with a story of a woman named Gloria who tells him to end his book with dancing. Grief blossomed resurrection for her, when she remembered  that the one she mourned, danced; in dancing his face lit up, in dancing he laughed, in dancing he drew close to the people he loved and drew in those who were strangers. Dancing changed him from the inside out --- whether moving to laments, the blues, a sad-sad-song, or to jives, two-steps, and waltzes.  When she took to dancing her grief, she no longer felt alone, and her heart was lifted, and she felt joy.
Maybe we have fallen in love with Tim’s dancing because it is a visual expression of the joy we hope for, joy we feel in the moment, a way to feel the grief -- and turn our mourning into dancing. In other words, dancing has been an experience of resurrection --- a moment full of hope, promise, possibility, joy.

This past week I had a number of days where I went for multiple walks or runs. I was unsettled, antsy, bored-but-not-really, had lots of energy and was overtired at the same time. My body had finally embodied the cumulative grief of the past weeks. One friend on Facebook called this embodiment of grief the ‘Coronacoaster,’ the ups and downs, the tears, the smiles, the mix up of not knowing how one feels. The good news is that through the embodiment of grief, the rollercoaster slows down, resurrection blossoms.

You are all in the comfort of your own homes. I am going to ask you to try something. I would like you to stand and put your one arm around the imaginary waist of a dancing partner, and your other hand out to the side to hold your imaginary partner’s hand. You are in a waltzing position. There is music playing in your head and you are leading. Now imagine that your waltzing partner is grief. Now take a minute and go for a waltz around the room you are in.
.....
 Do you feel shaken? Shaken, where grief feels like resurrection is a possibility? Grief that is accompanied with a smile or a giggle or joy? Shaken where mourning has lifted, dissipated to make room for the movement of the Spirit?

Easter is seven weeks of hearing stories of resurrection – experiences that shook the core of the disciples’ beliefs, faith, lives, actions, understandings, purpose, ideals, values, and so on. Easter is being confronted with the unbelievable and the unproveable.  Easter is spending days praying together, grieving, and opening up to be ready for what embodying grief will resurrect.
With each step of each new day resurrection is shaking perceptions and turning mourning into dancing.  

We are a week from Pentecost -the coming of the Holy Spirit- who waltzes in on wind, and foxtrots through flames, and toe-taps a rapture of tongues. The Apostles’ feet will dance out of ‘between times’ and in the glory of resurrection that comes through profound grief – change the world.

This week put on your dancing shoes. Embody grief by dancing how you feel, and come ready next Sunday to have the Holy Spirit as your dancing partner. Be forewarned the bartender is serving only one kind of drink  ........  You will be shaken not stirred.

Mother Stone (Easter 5 and Mother's Day)

Acts 7: 55-60; Psalm 31: 1-5, 15-16; 1 Peter 2: 2-10

MOTHER STONE

Not to throw stones but we have had four weeks of Luke via Acts,
Four weeks of words attributed to Peter, weeks of John;
Mother Wisdom being lost as the men record their version of resurrection... and today,
I’m left stone-cold as we get pelted with stones. Please give me a
Rosetta stone to translate Peter, Luke, and John.
Mother Mary was at the tomb,  a gravel pile of women- denoted as composite stone – Marys,
they; sifted stone just capturing names of Magdalene, Salome, Joanna;
Mother Marys’ resurrection stories rolled behind a stone.
The stone rolled away today to be thrown Stephen’s way.
Chosen, he was charged with the equitable care of the widows, serving tables, feeding the poor; offering stone soup—the social services of the day;
 providing for all in need; those disenfranchised forgotten because you can not get blood from a stone--- Stephen kept his nose to the grindstone
Full of grace, -persuasive passion, he did signs and wonders among the people,
Splitting stones; speaking in ways detractors could not dispute.
Trying, they cast stones, bringing false witnesses, false accusations
But the very stones could talk and false was false; truth would rock the lot.
The Standing Stone was Stephen’s why;
he preached longer than any Jesus’ sermon presented by Luke,
longer than any speech by Paul; and he mined, digging into repeated infidelity,
a cyclical pattern of abuse: by leaders, Temple officials, priests, people who thought they were something; those stone deaf and hard hearted----
 Stephen shook their stone foundations with truth – like those before him -- Abraham,
Joseph, Moses, prophets, Jesus; he called people back to the Cornerstone;
Thunk! relationship with God, Thunk! with community, Thunk! with creation.
Pointing fingers, instigating reform, it was just a stone’s throw to his predicament;
Yes, stoning.  Stoned as a living stone.
Mother Mary, just like she was at the cross, was standing on, Mother Wisdom recoiling – watching;
Once again truth -Resurrection- neutralized! Pulverized!
Pulverized stone -heated, pressed, squeezed- in time, becomes new rock; Mother Stone.
Mother Stone is the voice of the Mothers Mary – a composite of alloys, creatures, minerals,
precious metals; stones of beauty, worth, and strength.
Foundation.  Mother Earth with lava and bedrock and stones, created ... cradles life.
A stone foundation of Mother Wisdom – Truth, embraced by Stephen- the resurrection
Truth mined, smelted, formed into Mother’s Day.
The voice of Mother Marys -resurrection as told by the ‘they’
was a story of reconciliation and peace...and it was about women throwing stones – stones that were to:  THUNK! shatter poverty, THUNK! advocate through reconciliation,
THUNK! break oppression.
Before the Civil War, Mother’s Day Work Club- the resurrection story of Ann Reeves Jarvis, taught women how to properly care for children; living stones.
After the Civil War, Mother’s Friendship Day – the resurrection story by mothers; as a unifying force to mold, heal, reconcile Union and Confederate Soldiers; living stones.
1870, Mother’s Day Proclamation – the resurrection story of Julia Ward Howe, abolitionist and suffragette – mothers unite for world peace – mothers against war;
Yes living stones.
And a little later – the resurrection story as lived by Juliet Calhoun Blakely of the Temperance movement; throwing stones,
 to make family relationships right, wholesome, and good.
In 1900, amidst a chauvinistic calendar of male achievements – the resurrection story as told by Anna Jarvis walking in mother’s footsteps, petitioning for a Mother’s day
to honour the sacrifice mothers make for children.
My how stones rained down!
– and paving stones of what could be; resurrection and new beginnings
 –  activism, because of its pumice stone affect – was crushed;
 Mother’s Day crushed! to become a day of flowers, candy, and cards;
commercialized so the raging of women,
their angst, would be cast into a controllable softer stone;
 a sandstone that continually softens by erosion, not a sharp edge to be found.
Misinterpreted and exploited the purpose of the day -mother’s day- was quieted, hushed;
Killed - two birds with one stone: focus on sentiment. make a profit.
As in a farmer’s field after frost – stone picking in the spring-
Political and feminist causes not wanting sentiment to be what was carved in stone,
cast -not the first- but cast the first stone back at glasses houses where people should know better than to cast stones, in the first place -
Tried again; heated lava erupting;
 – the resurrection story-
Told in ’69  when Coretta Scott King used Mother’s Day to march to support underprivileged woman and children;
-the resurrection story-
 Told in 1970 where women’s groups used Mother’s Day to fight for equal rights and access to childcare.
The resurrection story once again out of the tomb in the voices of the Mother Marys;
and just as quickly pushed back in and another stone rolled across the door.
Enough already! Blasted stones--- I want out of the stone age!
Generation after generation repeat the crushing pattern
People are cemented into the tyranny of regime
Ignoring the voice of Mother Stone – Mother Earth, Mother Wisdom - the philosopher’s stone that turns base metal to gold; turns death to life.
It is time -past time-
To get this moss off the rock; to rather be like a rolling stone.
To stand with Stephen and split rocks, to be pumice stone; to be Mother Stone and say no more!
This time of fake stone – engineered stone- is over, for it is not stone at all.
This message is a get stoned and wake up from the haze different moment.
The Ultimate message in the stoning of Stephen -in the resurrection story told by women through the centuries- is a message of new beginnings!
The Gospel changes everything – once one has tasted that the Lord is good;
once one has received mercy- one balances on solid stone, the Chief Cornerstone ---
this is the why; the source of passion;
the immovable truth that allows one to be stoned and not become stone-hearted;
pelted by stones – and yet Forgive
pelted by stones – and able to  Love recklessly.
Like rolling stones gaining momentum we are a landslide movement against infidelity and violence;
 easy actions - Infidelity and violence; the human way to reject the Cornerstone because the new way -community way- is kidney stone painful.
Birthing change is painful!
The Gospel changes everything – what appears innate; stones
Those silenced, the Mother Marys, the ‘theys,’ the disenfranchised again and again repeat -birth- their resurrection stories, throwing them as stones of action;
Mother Stones --- resurrection, transformation, the possibility of what can be....what must be--- living stones; and for generations yet to come are prepared to be.... yes prepared to be... worn down, eroded, exploded ... to die.
So that the world see the Cornerstone, balance there, and change everything.
Written on stone tablets, the Ultimate message- leave no stone unturned-
Strong, determined, mercy focused-
Serve, forgive, love recklessly ... birth the resurrection story.


Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me.  You are indeed my rock and my fortress; for your names sake lead me and guide me. ... into your hand I commit my spirit... you have redeemed me faithful God. Amen.

Shepherd All --- Easter 4: Good Shepherd Sunday

Easter 4A-2020  ----  Acts 2: 42-47; John 10: 1-10

On Tuesday I was excited. I prepared the Two-bit and Itty-bitty Bible Studies for email and FB. I choose this morning’s reading from Acts 2 as the text. I was preparing to talk about life in coming days, to speak of  hopes and dreams about what could be when we start to leave our homes. I was thinking about what we have learned from slowing down and if there is a will to apply some of our learnings.
Contributions to the Bible Study discussion included mention of a community of farmers who each purchased a piece of farm equipment and then rotated usage, a neighbourhood who shared a lawn mower, mention of cooperative insurance, institution of a living wage, and reflections about sharing all in common, including living in monastic community.  Could we live and be a community as the church was in the early days of the movement? On Tuesday I was excited to explore all this.

On Wednesday I was not so excited. In fact I was not excited about anything. At one point I realized I was simply staring out the window into the backyard; I have no idea for how long.  That day I didn’t have lunch, too much effort to think about what to eat, and too indifferent to get up and put something together. There wasn’t even any reading done--- which is extremely unusual as I can get lost in a book in no time. I shuffled around the house, kept sticking my head out the door, and wandered aimlessly not thinking or doing anything.
I noticed that the same was true for many of my friends and colleagues.  It was as if a big cloud descended on us all at the same time. We made it through Holy Week and Easter, offering various forms of worship and community.  We made it through an additional 2 post-Easter weeks and Sundays. For the most part remaining calm, deepening discipleship, being relational as best we can, and staying positive, hope-filled.
And then Wednesday happened and it was like our brains were shuffled and muffled.  Lots of comments in social media messages stated that we feel like we have nothing more to say; or at least on Wednesday we were muffled enough that our thoughts and hopes were all cloudy.

On Wednesday -as I crawled into bed- out of the cloud and muffle in my head, snippets of text and image appeared that came from the Gospel of John; and from the Good Shepherd craft shared earlier in the day.
The craft instructions had people make the form of a sheep and then cut out round circles to become patches of wool.  On each circle crafters were invited to write the names of the people they care about, people who are in their thoughts, who rest in their hearts, people who have asked for their prayers, and so on.  The names were glued on the sheep form – and will be offered later during our offering time.
In all of my years, I have never put human beings in the roll of the shepherd in the story. The making of the sheep, had me reflect that following the Good Shepherd has a component of being a shepherd oneself.  We do care and love people around us.  At times we do offer correction, protection, and set boundaries; just as shepherds do for their flocks.  We pray for people especially when other action is impossible. We bring those in our care to green pastures – feeding them with physical food, life-giving conversation,  hope-filled encouragement, and to waters of forgiveness and unconditional love.

 In the past few weeks caring, sharing, giving thanks have been watering green pastures of the environments in which we live and work. When I walk through the church’s neighbourhood there are all kinds of signs, and hearts; chalk drawings too– notes to the postie, thanks to essential workers, words of encouragement for the passersby. Facebook even made a new ‘caring’ emoji; a smiley face hugging a heart. Congregation members have sent me notes about practices of making phone calls and having tea by telephone; I’ve seen dinners by Zoom, evenings-in with friends on Skype. These actions are moments when human beings have taken the initiative – leadership- to build, to transform, to create a renewed community.  Could this form of shepherding lead us to live together, holding all things in common, selling our possessions, and distributing resources to those in any need? 
By holding people in our hearts, by caring and sharing, by shepherding the people in our lives ---is that the way to a society full of human beings with Glad and generous hearts; having good will of all people?

What I realized in the making of sheep and in conversation with colleagues is that shepherding is a shared task. Some of the people I wrote on my sheep, my mom wrote on hers, perhaps you have some that I wrote too. The good news of this –if I have a shuffled and muffled day, someone else continues to hold the people I regularly shepherd. And imagine all the good will, gladness, and generosity fostered by the extravagant and abundant care given to any one individual by many who hold them in their hearts and prayers.
Perhaps these past 7 weeks, being gated into smaller sheep pens, has been a time to recognize and grow our capacity to shepherd. We are not to spend so much time thinking we are sheep and incapable of making significant contributions to new possibilities of the communal society when this is all over. In shepherding we follow the Good Shepherd considering and working on our relationships. Perhaps this is what Jesus means when saying, that they may have life abundantly.

If one reads the Good Shepherd narrative closely, one will notice that Jesus is the Good Shepherd AND the gate to the sheepfold AND in the gospel of John the Lamb of God. In this great mixed up story where Jesus plays all the parts, where we depending on our perspective can fill any or all of the roles, there is truth. I read this week, in a book written by Madeleine L’Engle, the writer of “A Wrinkle In Time,” that truth is not a fact. She speaks of story and narrative as a search for truth. She writes that for truth, we can read Jesus. Truth is frightening and demanding. “If we accept that Jesus is truth, we accept an enormous demand: Jesus is wholly God, and Jesus is wholly human. Dare we believe that? If we believe in Jesus, we must.  And immediately that takes truth out of the limited realm of literalism.”
Jesus can be, must be, is --- shepherd, gate, and Lamb ... and so then Jesus’ followers can be, must be, wrapped in all three to seek Truth, to live into Truth and experience life abundant – as a whole, together; sheep come in flocks.

On this fourth Sunday of Easter the text opens to us a broader truth -an expanded version and vision- of resurrection.
Madeleine L’Engle was asked after a reading, “Do you believe in the literal fact of the Resurrection? [She] replied, ‘I stand with Paul: No Resurrection, no Christianity. But you can’t cram the glory of Resurrection into a fact. It’s true! It’s what we live by!”  And she later writes, “my faith is not seriously threatened because it is not literal but remains open to question and revelation. It is not always a comfortable faith; it prods and pushes me. ... Let us trust truth, that truth that was incarnate for us in Jesus.”

You can’t cram the glory of resurrection into a fact --- resurrection was incarnate truth lived out and resurrected in the lives and stories of the faithful who followed as sheep, and who shepherded, and who acted as gatekeepers from one generation to the next.
We have had seven weeks where human beings have witnessed the story of truth- resurrection lived out in caring, sharing, and gratitude. An ancient parable of a Good Shepherd is lived in resurrection truth – an incarnational love one for another, that in our old world was lost and hidden in tombs of busyness, consumption, preoccupation, and production.

I guess I have worked my way back to the resurrection as expressed in the lives and stories of the community described in Acts. I am excited and have hopes and dreams that busyness, consumption, preoccupation, and production will no longer entomb us.
The truth of the story of the Good Shepherd is that the story contains part of the glory of resurrection.
There is an invitation to become part of the story to act as shepherd, sheep, and gatekeeps by living and acting from the truth at the heart of the Good Shepherd, which is incarnational love one for another. And yes, we can shepherd the world to live this way.
Hone your shepherd skills, shepherd those around you. Care, share, and be grateful. May resurrection glory abundantly spring forth in this lambing season.

On the Road Again; Fear and Discipleship Collide (Easter 3)

On the road again. Just can’t wait to get on the road again.
This was the ditty that accompanied the CBC show, On the Road Again, hosted for its running time of 20 years by Wayne Rostad. On Saturday mornings following children’s programming- if memory serves me correctly- one could tune into this quirky collection of interviews and documentary segments; gathered along Canadian roads as Wayne met all sorts of interesting people and listened to their stories. Each episode had Rostad forming unique relationships and inviting Canadians to join him on the adventure. One never knew where he would end, and what outrageous kind of tale he would have to tell.

Five years or so after the show began, I set off on an adventure of my own, travelling down the road 140 kms to Wilfrid Laurier University.  In the early 90s, universities were particularly mindful of their female students and their safety.  First year female students in residence were paired with a brother floor for frosh week, and other activities over the year. The idea was that we would have interacted with a group of guys – in various social settings, with and without alcohol- so that we could determine who was ‘safe’ and ‘unsafe.’ The idea was to make a friend or two who could be called to escort us home from late night studying or outings.  The school also had a foot patrol – for any student who wanted the security of two fellow students to walk them home after night class.  The road home from school after night class was dangerous – rapes, thefts, assaults- we walked home with a whistle in one hand and keys in the other pointing out between our fingers, just in case we needed to defend ourselves.

I wonder if the story of the Good Samaritan, would have been different if there was a foot patrol in the time of Jesus?  You remember that story from earlier in Luke’s gospel tale– where a man was traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho when he was attacked and beaten by robbers, clothes stolen, and left for dead on the side of the road. A Samaritan happened along, who offered first aid, gave him a donkey ride to an inn, paid for his stay, and for his care. Imagine the interview if Wayne Rostad had talked with the Samaritan, the quirky repartee back and forth finding out the motives of the Samaritan’s actions, and the nuances of his personality. On the road that day there was a grievous event and ‘on that road again’ later in the day, there was relationship in action.


This week we were reminded how dangerous roads can be. ... out for a walk, out for a drive.. never to return home.
This week’s Gospel reminds us that it is on roads where relationships form that change us for the good.

Roads are dangerous.  Roads connect us. Roads represent the journey of faith.
It is on the road that fear and discipleship collide.




Anything of consequence happens on the road.  Luke’s gospel has the characters on the move – on the road again: Mary and Joseph are on the road when it is time for Jesus’ birth, the shepherds travel; Jesus goes off-road into the desert; on a certain Sabbath Jesus was walking through a field of ripe grain – which turns into a confrontation with the religious leaders; people came to Jesus on road for healing; Jesus sent out along the roads 70 disciples in pairs to preach and heal – with a warning of course that the way will be hazardous. Today we hear of disciples deep in conversation on the road to Emmaus.

On the road again... they were deep in conversation, going over all the things that happened.

I have a friend with whom I sometimes run. We ran together while my children were teenagers, we ran together while I was writing my doctoral thesis.  It was those runs that helped me reflect and put together all the pieces of life, and all the pieces of data and research and thought to get me to a finished written thesis. On the road – together- deep in conversation led to new ideas, perspectives, growth, and relationship.
I like to picture the disciples walking to Emmaus like my running partner and myself – perhaps starting in questions and angst, getting lost in conversation, creative ideas, playing off one another’s thoughts, posing alternative arguments, and ending at a place of clearer vision and renewed hope.

I struggle with THE ROAD.
It would have been safer for the two people going to Emmaus to have stayed home. I question why it was that they took the risk to talk to a stranger, and to talk to the stranger about a revolutionary that had been put to death?  Did they not fear that they might find themselves on a watch-list, considered followers or sympathizers? I don’t talk to strangers on the road.  I definitely don’t talk about Jesus to random unknown people who cross my path. I don’t stop to offer first-aid, a ride in my car (as I don’t have a donkey), or to pay for someone’s stay at an inn until they recuperate. Admittedly I miss out on relationship – perhaps missing out on deepening discipleship by learning from another, because I am afraid when on the road.

I struggle less with THE ROAD,
when I am with a person I know and trust. I enjoy running with my friend.  I enjoy a road trip and adventures along the way when I am with Tim and mom.  I still hesitate to talk to strangers. I hesitate to offer help – other than perhaps offering directions if someone who looks a little lost. 

I struggle a whole lot less with THE ROAD,
when the road is lined with community.  For instance when I know that all of you are also on the road, asking similar questions, acting in relationship, showing how to set fear aside, being an example of sharing the Easter story; when you challenge me, take new paths, or form relationships.

I read this week: We are all in the same storm, not in the same boat. Meaning that because of our individual experiences, our beliefs, personalities, coping mechanisms, resources, communities to which we belong, and so on; we are all processing COVID and the mass shooting in different ways. We are all on the same map, different roads with different modes of transport. One thing with maps and roads – there are points where roads intersect, where we will pass by each other, collide with each other. 
I invite us to consider that while on the road we – as disciples; followers of Jesus- are each a mixed up mess of fear and anxiety, wanting in our heart of hearts to deepen discipleship and relationships; to live a life that is faithful to the Gospel.

On the road again... Luke’s Gospel continues in the book of Acts.  Once again we are invited to incidents on the road: those who leave Jerusalem after Pentecost to share the story in their own lands; the Ethiopian official who meets Philip on the road – who opens scripture for him such that he asks to be baptized – also along the side of the road; Saul’s experience on the road to Damascus of seeing Jesus and changing from persecuting Jesus’ followers to becoming one himself; story after story has Paul traveling to build relationships and communities of followers – Thessalonica, Corinth, Athens – complete with shipwrecks and imprisonments...
On the road is a place of fear and danger colliding with deepening discipleship and relationship.

The question (well questions) bothering me – and I hope will poke at you – is how will I be on the road? How will we be once we are on the road again?  Will we be fearful and stay home? Will we, despite fear, travel in pairs participating in deep conversation about all that has occurred? Will we, despite fear, talk with strangers on the road, so that our eyes might be opened to parts of God that we as yet do not know? Will we share the good news? Will we embrace relationship with all its demands whether first aid, a car ride, or lodging; scripture sharing, baptism, or healing? How will we be, once we are on the road again?

After having their hearts warmed while on the road talking with the stranger, the couple on the road and the household where they ended up met Jesus -recognized Jesus in the breaking of bread. It was not long before they were up and on their way----- on the road again ---- back to Jerusalem, where they found the eleven disciples and those gathered with them.  The two went over everything that had happened on the road and how they recognized Jesus when Jesus broke bread  in their midst.
This is how we could be --- a focused relational community sharing the good news, opening scripture in deep conversation, and operating in the world through words and deeds--- with fear and a sense of adventure I look forward to being... on the road again.

Easter 2 - A Rolodex for Healing

One of my pastimes is playing in a monthly Scrabble tournament with 30 people whom I have gotten to know over the years. This month’s tournament started just after Easter Sunday. As games have been started, I have wished my competitors, “Happy Easter.” One responded, “Happy belated Easter to you too.” I was taken aback. Belated? It was only three days after Easter Sunday, and fellow competitors know I am a pastor; if anyone knows how long Easter is...right?
Easter is a week of Sundays – that is seven Sundays, to equal 50 days.

For the first time in our lifetimes, our 50 days of Easter is much like that of the disciples and friends who had gathered around Jesus at the time of his death. After the death – and especially after Jesus’ body went missing; while rumours of resurrection sightings were growing – the disciples and friends locked themselves behind closed doors. They took shelter and a time of pause. Someone must have gone out to get groceries, necessities, perhaps Thomas was the household designate to do just that. Everyone else ‘stayed the blazes home,’ for it was deemed unsafe to be out and about.

50 days is a long time to be quarantined with a roommate, or spouse, or a few children, or a parent – imagine 11 disciples and the women who had gone to the tomb all together in one space.
I wonder what the routine looked like?  Did they set aside time to pray together? To share and study scripture? To sing hymns? How much did they spend reflecting privately and discussing robustly the events of Jesus’ life and death, and now rumours of resurrection? Did they contemplate what next?
Traditional Christian practice has been to spend our week of Sundays reflecting on the biblical rumours of resurrection – the stories of resurrection appearances and experiences.  We have the gift of pause, locked behind closed doors, to reflect on Jesus’ life and death, and rumours of resurrection.

At some point, Jesus’ disciples and friends, must have scrolled through the rolodex in their brains to draw on fragments of poems, songs, sayings, scripture, folktales, fables, nursery rhymes; not only to pass the time, but to bring comfort, insight, and hope; as our National Bishop Susan says, words, that “manage anxiety and deepen discipleship.” I wonder if Jesus’ disciples and friends turned to Psalm 16 – a psalm that is suggested may have been a psalm that was a carved inscription – written down- and placed in the Temple where it could be offered over and over again. The repetition of the words was to gain intimacy with the reciter for a time when one might need those very words to live, to cope, and to be healed?
We also have rolodexes – either in the form of magazines that we flip through, or social media feeds that we scroll through. One comes across a funny joke in the Reader’s Digest magazine, or an inspirational quote in ‘O Magazine,’ or we come across memes with a phrase or pic that speaks to us.
When human beings are holed up, there are moments when outside interference, interruption, interjected ideas,  inspiration, interpretation are needed just to cope.

Today, outside influence and illumination come to me through Psalm 16.  When I heard the words they seemed to infiltrate my system.  After hearing them, I felt better than I did before. Come to find out that Peter, Jesus’ disciple, found something in the words as well. Psalm 16 was the basis for his sermon that we heard from Acts – preached in the marketplace in Jerusalem after coming out from behind locked doors. I wonder if this Psalm was recited in their evening prayers.  This Psalm was obviously well known to Peter, memorized in fact, and I assume the other disciples and the people who heard him preach it knew it too.  The words were recognizable, intimate words --- intimate because they were scripture used and recited. Peter appropriates the words from the Psalm and reinterprets them for his time and place.
Acts 2: 28 records Peter saying: You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence.
Peter has changed the words – interpreted them to relate to the circumstance in which the disciples find themselves, preaching the good news, telling others that Christ is risen.
I prefer the words as written in Psalm 16: 11,  You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; In your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

Sitting behind closed doors, I have taken to a morning routine of sitting in my living room, with the faux fireplace on, a candle lit, a cup of coffee in hand --- reading poetry, that of John Donne, or Elizabeth Barrett-Browning; books I received for Christmas. Just reading the poems --- in the cadence I think most appropriate and I plow ahead despite not getting all the meaning; some of the poems I only ‘get’ by a feeling they leave inside me because the text is like reading Greek.

You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; In your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
I find this Psalm phrase intriguing. It feels like it has substance. It seems to be deeper than the words themselves. I can’t explain the words in one go. The words resonate as a sound – a sound of resurrection. There is an intimacy about them a moving forward, along the path of life for the healing of the world.

We have 50 days behind closed doors to reflect on the Mystery of Easter.  We have 50 days wherein we will need outside input and inspiration. Instead of absently flipping through that magazine or scrolling through your social media stream, take a moment and meander through the Psalms.

Take a close look at the Psalms in your Bible. For many of the Psalms translations include a short descriptive, a superscription, of what the Psalm is, for instance: Psalm 23 says a psalm of David, Psalm 81 has instructions for the musicians-to the leader: according to The Gittith, Psalm 120-134  are marked Songs of Ascent – meaning they were sung by pilgrims on the way up to the Temple in Jerusalem.
The superscription for Psalm 16 is: A Miktam of David.  Psalm 56-60 are also ‘miktams’ of David. These six Psalms are the only time the word ‘miktam’ is used in the Bible.

There is a lot of scholarship and disagreement about the meaning of the word, mitkam. Trying to figure it out, one looks at possible root words that are similar. One considers the time the Psalms were written and what influences the people and their language were under; where the word might be borrowed from.
A plausible meaning for ‘mitkam’ is an epigraph, something that is inscribed, written down in order to be made permanent.  It is connected to roots that mean to remember, to recollect.
It is also connected to an ancient word for gold, and for a thing that covers – perhaps a cover of gold, a precious covering.  Put all this together.  Psalm 16 is a song to inscribe on our hearts and in our minds, words -wisdom- to cover us in a time when we need healing; hope; and resurrection.

You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; In your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
There is something in the words. There is wisdom there.  The Psalmist David knew. Peter knew. There is power in the words of the Psalm.  There is Mystery ready to break from the tomb and move forward for the healing of the world.
Be covered with the words of Psalm 16, reflect on the ones that sit most intimately with you, and once we break from our time behind locked doors, may we -like Peter- have the words to preach the Good News; Easter resurrection; Easter joy.

The THREE DAYS: Easter Sunday - I Love You

EASTER SUNDAY – I love you

 I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
The sermons over ‘the Three Days’ explore the sections of this prayer mantra. The characters in the passion story journey through scenes of repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. Journeying though the passion narrative and the liturgies of the Three Days is a reminder of our broken relationships – with God, humans, and creation.
I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you – are phrases that carry the power to honour meaningful relationships and heal broken relationships.  The Three Days take us into the very heart of relationship -the heart of God.

Not so many years ago, Tim and I visited Atlanta, Georgia, to go to a NASCAR race; an item on my bucket list. I was excited not just for the race, but, for a supper excursion I planned for the evening we arrived. On recommendation from a number of friends we went downtown to ‘Aunt Pittypat’s Porch.’ The restaurant was named after Scarlett’s aunt from the movie, Gone With the Wind; a character with great Southern hospitality for family and visitor alike.  At Aunt Pittypat’s Porch, one is welcomed in to sit in large white-painted wooden rocking chairs. Around a bannister look off one is refreshed with various forms of peach-laden drinks.  Escorted from the porch, one descends to the warmth of a homey Southern kitchen, to enjoy deep fried catfish, potato salad made from sweet potatoes and raisins, pickled watermelon rinds, and ooohhh the biscuits and cornbread. After dinner we stood outside in the warm twilight as the porch lights came on.  In the air floated music from speakers on the lamp posts; the song – Louis Armstrong’s, It’s A Wonderful World.  ... Here I broke into tears as Tim wrapped me in a big embrace.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
In that moment I heard these words – I felt them- in the music.
What you need to know is that this piece of music was the father-daughter dance when Tim and I were married. You also need to know that my dad loved car racing; that our trip was planned, and we were encouraged to go, despite... --- you see, dad had died; the day before we were standing outside Aunt Pittypat’s Porch hearing the words... the colours of the rainbow so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces of people going by.  I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do?  They’re really saying, I love you...
And in that moment, death sunk into the depths of my heart while resurrection stirred the air. Death and life were hand-in-hand.

As day was dawning, the Mary’s went to the tomb. Amidst the extraordinary events: an earthquake, an angel – I see the women standing in the damp cool darkness of the tomb, surrounded by the smell of death.  Death settles into their bones, into the depths of their hearts while resurrection stirs the air.
 The body is not there. 
As the sun rises, as light grows, do they hear God’s music in the sound of the waking birds in the garden, in the opening petals of the flowers, in the breeze rustling through olive branches, in the glow of the angel, in the after-trembling of the earth? Do they hear God’s whisper... I love you?
In Armstrong’s music, It’s A Wonderful World, I love you! is in trees of green, red roses too/bright sunny skies, dark sacred nights/in babies cry and how they grow... it’s a wonderful world.  In every day life, in death’s depths resurrection stirs the air.  God whispers, “I love you.”
Scripture says, the women leave the tomb in fear and great joy; a moment where death and life walk hand-in-hand. 
Jesus greets the women as they leave the garden. Matthew has Jesus say, “Do not be afraid – go and tell my disciples.” Jesus is saying to the women’s hearts: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.  The women hear it, they feel it, and they go and tell it.

Although not an intentional Easter sermon, one of the best reflections I have read over the Three Days is that Julio Vincent Gambuto, an American writer and director. He speaks to us while we are standing in the damp cool tomb, surrounded by the smell of death. In this time death settles into our bones, into the depths of our hearts. He writes:
Well, the treadmill you’ve been on for decades just stopped. Bam! And that feeling you have right now is the same as if you’d been thrown off your Peloton bike and onto the ground: What the ... just happened?
 I hope you might consider this: what happened is inexplicably incredible.  It is the greatest gift ever unwrapped.  Not the deaths, not the virus, but the Great Pause. Please don’t recoil from the bright light beaming through the window.  I know it hurts your eyes.  It hurts mine too. But the curtain is wide open.  What the crisis has given us is a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see ourselves and our country in the plainest of views.  At no other time, ever in our lives, have we gotten the opportunity to see what would happen if the world simply stopped.  Here it is.  We’re in it. 

Death ...while resurrection stirs the air.

As the Three Days have ended and we now celebrate Easter resurrection for 7 weeks, we remain in the Great Pause.  We continue to live the reality of death and life being hand-in-hand.
What I hope is that our journey through Holy Week -from death to life- is as life-changing on a global scale as it has been in our own devotion. I would like nothing more than to recapture the moment on the street in Atlanta, where death sunk into the depths of my heart while resurrection stirred the air.  I would love for us to hear God’s music being whispered-  I am sorry. Please forgive me.  Thank you.  I love you.
By the power of the Great Pause, by resurrection to follow, I would love for death to be conquered: death to hunger and poverty, jealousy and war; competition, consumption, and pollution; exploitation and slavery.
At this moment, death and life are hand-in-hand. God is whispering to all of creation.... I love you.
Do not be afraid to walk out of the damp cool darkness of the tomb, leave the stink of death behind.  Walk into the early dawning of light, soaking in the resurrection in the air. Hear God whispering – I love you – and because of this love embrace new life, a new world.
It’s a wonderful world, when inadequacies are seen and there is a striving for all people to have equal access to health care; when the homeless are sheltered in empty hotel rooms; when financial resources are shared with those who have lost their jobs or fallen between the cracks; when people pay attention to their neighbours, their health, their wellbeing, their needs; when the sky is no longer yellow smog but blue as blue can be; when priorities change from consumption of things to fostering relationships; when gratitude is simplified to matters of life and death; when news is not about war, it is about a struggle uniting the wills of people around the world.
 This new life...this new world is possible...

Resurrection stirs in the air --- God is singing.
Do you hear God’s voice – a voice that has the power to move mountains, split trees, create great sea monsters; heal the blind, and raise the dead ---- a voice that has power to stir in us resurrection, new life, a new world.  Be lost in the power of God’s music and may it change your life for real and for always.
God whispers to you:  I’m sorry.  Please forgive.  Thank you. ... I love you!

The THREE DAYS: Part 2 - I'm Sorry. Please Forgive Me

GOOD FRIDAY – I’m sorry (please forgive me).

I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
The sermons over ‘the Three Days’ explore the sections of this prayer mantra. The characters in the passion story journey through scenes of repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. Journeying though the passion narrative and the liturgies of the Three Days is a reminder of our broken relationships – with God, humans, and creation.
I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you – are phrases that carry the power to honour meaningful relationships and heal broken relationships.  The Three Days take us into the very heart of relationship -the heart of God.

Through history there have been peoples who believed that a person’s errors cause illness. Not so many weeks ago we read the story of the man born blind, whom Jesus healed.  There was no rejoicing that one who was blind could now see, no; there was an intense interrogation and debate about sin – the perceived cause of the blindness.
While I do not believe that the man or his parent’s sin caused his blindness, there are times when I believe we do contribute to making ourselves ill.  Whether ulcers, headaches, anxiety, high blood pressure- all can be contributed to by the emotions and actions within our relationships – the brokenness of relationship. For each of the past 13 days I have sent out a Station of the Cross from a project we did a few years ago. Reflecting on the theme for each Station, including: sorrow, betrayal, condemnation, denial, judgement, bearing, helping, blessing, caring – we realize the intricacies of relationship and that as good as our relationships might be, there are parts in shadow, in brokenness, and with some – or with God- or with creation- we have no relation, or a strained relation, or a forgotten relation.
That is why there is beauty and promise to be found in the texts and liturgy for this morning. Jesus -God- addresses broken relationship, by entering the brokenness – in vulnerability, suffering, and pain – Jesus comes to us. Not to wave a magic wand and make everything right, but to sit with us where we are; to embrace our woundedness in order to make us whole.

There is a story of a miracle worker, Dr. Ihaleakala Hew Len, he is attributed with healing all the patients in a criminally insane ward at a Hawaiian hospital.  In his life he practice the mantra, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.” He would recite these words as he read the files of the patients. The practice changed his perceptions and his heart; his heart requested living into right relationship with himself, with the patients.  One could see on the ward an increase in conflict resolution and reconciliation. Legend says that it did not take long for other workers in the facility to change – in their relationship with him, and then in their relationship with others; everyone started to act and react in new ways with each other – people wanted to come to work to share in new found and focused heart relationship. Within a month patients were no longer sequestered in their rooms, those in restraints were set free, drugs were reduced, and eventually everyone went back into society – changed.  ... all because Hew Len addressed broken relationship, by entering the brokenness.  He began with himself, becoming vulnerable in saying – and living: I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.

God addresses broken relationship – God heals blindness- by entering our brokenness; in vulnerability, suffering, pain, God sits with us embracing our woundedness – and whispers...I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.  In turn these words become our words – and we are healed, made whole.

The THREE DAYS: Part 1 - Thank you

I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
The sermons over ‘the Three Days’ explore the sections of this prayer mantra. The characters in the passion story journey through scenes of repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love. Journeying though the passion narrative and the liturgies of the Three Days is a reminder of our broken relationships – with God, humans, and creation.
I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you – are phrases that carry the power to honour meaningful relationships and heal broken relationships.  The Three Days take us into the very heart of relationship -the heart of God.

MAUNDY THURSDAY -Thank you

I have a colleague whom, if I had a nickel for every time he stated, “all that’s needed for a good death is to say, I’m sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you,” I could go and live in a very warm place for a very long time.  Although, I may at times get annoyed by the constant repetition, his pastoral sensibility is correct – I have seen it at work at the bedside of those who are dying – these words are a way to say and share a meaningful goodbye.  The process also allows the family and friends to grieve well.
It is a meaningful goodbye that Jesus shares with his disciples the night of their last meal together.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you. --- Investigating this mantra, one will be directed to ancient practices of the South Pacific – to Indigenous practices of Hawaii, Samoa, Polynesia, Tahiti, New Zealand. The practice called, ho’oponopono, means to “make right-right.” It is an active practice of forgiveness and reconciliation.  It is a practice that is believed to clear the mind and clear away the roots of illness. Various traditions, including Christianity, have mirror phrases and rituals illustrating the spiritual component of the mantra, and subscribe to the actions as ways of living.  None though have become a part of us in the same way as ho’oponopono is integral to South Pacific healing and life.
Make right-right: 
This is the meaningful goodbye that Jesus shares with us as we walk through the rituals of this night.
Make right-right -the rituals are simple.

We begin with an anointing of oil as the sign of lavish healing and abundant life.  This healing and life flow when we free our heart from the shackles of  guilt, shame, unforgiveness, grudges, self-doubt, grief, and those things that come from broken relationships; through confession - I’m sorry. Please forgive me.- the laying on of hands and anointing is a balm, a blessing to heal the broken hearted, to set our hearts at one with God; to make right-right.

We follow anointing with the washing of feet. In our times, it is the washing of hands. Recently we have all been reminded of the importance of taking our shoes off at the door, of washing our hands, removing dirt from the outside as we enter our sacred spaces of home. We are reminded of our relationships with others – that they are broken - in that until a crisis there so many we take for granted, so many we fail to protect because we do not wash our hands. This too is a practice of the heart – the washing of feet is a reminder of our distance from each other and our distance from God; who is God that God should wash my feet? Who are you that you should touch me? Remember, Peter was annoyed that Jesus should wash his feet. Jesus responds: You do not know what I am doing but later you will understand. And later we do. Jesus is offering a thank you to his friends and a way for his disciples to share their thanks in the future – once they experience his death and resurrection - the meaning starts to sink in; as thank you to such lavish healing and abundant life, make right-right by loving neighbour, by washing their feet, their hands – my own hands, and say often: thank you, I love you.

Jesus and the disciples eat together.
United Methodist pastor  Alphonetta Wines writes.
“Israel’s bold movement toward freedom and Jesus anguished journey toward the cross are associated with a meal. These meals bear witness to the paradox that no matter how horrific, tragedy inherently holds the promise of something new.  Both meals commemorate unimaginable pain and suffering. Both signal the beginning of something new.  They are turning points in the lives of all who partake.  For the original participants in these meals, life would never be the same.”
Make right-right, ho’oponopono, share a meal. Share a cup of coffee -even if it means via telephone. In rural communities especially, what happens within 10 mins of a tragedy, whether sickness, death, fire, bad news of any kind? Casseroles and baking start appearing at the door of those in crisis. It is an expression of I love you, thank you for who you are to me, I’m sorry. The food represents the hope of lavish healing and abundant life which are currently clouded by circumstance but still active and present just outside one’s periphery. Neighbours are offering a dedicated assurance that suffering and pain, brokenness, are not the end.

Stripping of the altar, is not a ritual mandated by Jesus, yet, it has become Christian practice for the setting of the stage as we move to the crucifixion and the cross. The removal from this sacred space of symbols of faith, of means through which grace comes to us, being stripped down to an altar – that looks like an empty box – illustrates the stripping down of ourselves, our attachments, to see that our relationships are broken, barren, and even empty.
And this is where the journey leaves us this evening – empty-
To go to bed and return in the morning in hope of forgiveness and reconciliation – in the hope of lavish healing and abundant life.

This Holy Week -living through it under different circumstances – has drawn me into the heart of God, the heart of relationship.  It is not the eloquent crafting of words or elaborate ceremonies that bring meaning to the story of the Three Days; rather,  it is simple words and simple rituals that speak volumes and have us experience repentance, forgiveness, gratitude, and love; these four. In end there is nothing more lavish for healing or abundant life than these.

Holy One, tonight I say thank you.
Thank you for anointing me with the oil of forgiveness and lavish healing.
Thank you for washing my feet - my  heart – for making our relationship right-right.
Thank you for sharing with me spiritual food and abundant grace.
Thank you for stripping me bare, bearing open a heart of brokenness, waiting something new.
Thank you for a continued journey wherein there is promised hope of abundant life. Amen.