Cotton Wool & Silk

Christmas Cactus

2011-12-19T09:44:00.000-08:00

And this year it is true to its name!

Sermon: Advent 2

2011-12-04T09:48:00.001-08:00

{preface to reading the scripture}

A preaching professor said,“When the scripture is read very, very well, the sermon is almost finished.”
I believe that. But it’s also come to be my unhappy belief, that the church has sometimes done a poor job of helping people learn how to listen to scripture. Not enough is taught about the bible.People come to slowly believe that what the preacher says is the ‘real’ stuff to listen to for the day. Sometimes preachers themselves believe that. Shame on us if we do.And people read other things, like the bulletin, or the church newsletter while scripture is read. (Or diddle with their electronic devices.) It’s not that you are a bad person if you do those things.But you are cheating yourself. Listen for the word of the Lord.
Isaiah 40:1-11
40:1 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
40:2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins.
40:3 A voice cries out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
40:4 Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.
40:5 Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."
40:6 A voice says, "Cry out!" And I said, "What shall I cry?" All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field.
40:7 The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people are grass.
40:8 The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.
40:9 Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, "Here is your God!"
40:10 See, the Lord GOD comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him.
40:11 He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.
What’s one of the saddest things that you can imagine? For a number of us, myself included, it would be the death of a loved one – particularly a child, or a grandchild. But other things could make me sad too. I try not to think about them. I’ll bet you don’t either.
When we come to the 40^th chapter of Isaiah, we are hearing words addressed to a people who have experienced a lot of sad things. Not only were they, and the most important people in their lives taken out of their homeland and moved to a far off country, so that likely their parents and grandparents had not been buried in the family burial plots,but now their children and grandchildren knew nothing of the things they themselves had once held dear. Yes, I’m sure that made them sad.
sssssssssss
Some of you know that I’m a user of internet social networking. I’m on Facebook, as Facebook users say. I like it a great deal – keeps me connected to lots of folks that otherwise I would not be able to. Yesterday I posted (that means put on my Facebook page) some pictures of our sanctuary – after the great crew that came over yesterday morning had done their work. Now here’s how it works on Facebook: I want you to know if you’re not familiar with it, that after you’ve put some words or pictures on your wall, your profile page other people can see them and make comments. Well after I put up those stunning pictures of our sanctuary, there were so many comments -- from some of you, and from others.
Oh how beautiful – so pretty.
What a lovely sanctuary in which to wait during Advent – or anytime someone wrote.
“I love being able to say, ‘ I go to that beautiful church,” wrote one of our youth.
And that made me think, of the people to whom Isaiah had written.
I’m sure they loved their beautiful church, their temple. Amid the sadness of losing homes, and towns and all things familiar, undoubtedly one of their incomparable sorrows was losing their place of worship.
God’s people, 600 years before Christ’s birth lost their land, and their leaders, their temple, their city Jerusalem and all that it symbolized.
Whew, we might be tempted to say; it really doesn’t seem likely that we’ll be taken into captivity. It doesn’t appear that there are any people around who would like to destroy this place of worship, like the ancient Israelites’ temple was demolished. But there are many ways for houses of worship, faith communities to be obliterated. It usually doesn’t happen over night; it happens over time. It’s one of those sadnesses that is so sad, we might try to not think about it.
sssssssssss
What would it be like for you if this place, this church, disappeared? In the near future, or in, let’s say, 20 years.

A friend of mine named Jill Sanders, with whom I went to seminary years ago, is now a Methodist pastor, serving in the state of Iowa as a district superintendent, which is a lot like what we call a synod executive.
I’m going to read a fairly lengthy piece she just wrote.
Rev. Sanders writes: “I{recently} had the privilege of having a heartfelt conversation with a pastor I greatly respect. This person is a wise, effective, seasoned pastor serving one of our small membership congregations in retirement. For the first time this past year, this pastor has seen worship attendance decline and outreach attempts fail. In the quietness of our conversation, he confessed to me: ‘When I was first appointed fifty or so years ago, we simply did ministry well and people showed up. It’s a different day. To be honest, I’m glad I’m not a young pastor just starting out in ministry today.’”
Jill continues, “I thought about our conversation as I drove home that evening, and I’ve been ruminating on it since. Reflecting on the course of his ministry and how things have changed, this pastor poignantly describes what so many of us know at the core of our being—essentially that the old ways no longer bring the results they used to and the new ways have yet to fully emerge. As I read recently, ‘we look around, stunned and grief-stricken at our own impotence. It is as if all the familiar religious furniture was packed into a great moving van and carried to a far country, but none of it fits in the new house, and the old house has been torn down and we are now foreigners living in a world we do not know. After a while, we sit down, exhausted from all our efforts and think about calling it quits. We keep asking ourselves why nothing works anymore. We lose the desire to try. And the unutterable weariness initiates for some people, both clergy and lay, a disillusioned exodus from the church.’” (Elaine Heath: The Mystical Way of Evangelism)
Maybe all this is not the saddest thing you can imagine,but still sad. Very sad.
Listen, listen again for the word of the Lord.

40:1 “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.
40:2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins.
40:3 A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
40:4 Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.
40:5 Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.’
And then this,
2 Peter 3:8 “~~But~~ do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.”
What could these words, God’s word, which will stand forever, be saying to us, members of the Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack, today? Consider this: The people to whom Isaiah first issued that word of comfort, were indeed comforted, and eventually found peace. But only with a backward look, years later, a millennium, or more, which to God is like a day.
It was through the backward look of their sons and daughters and their grandchildren some generations in the future, who lived to see their temple, their house of worship rebuilt. But a lot of things had to change before that happened. A lot of things, changes, which could not even be imagined, had to occur. Alterations, transformations which some were brought into literally kicking and screaming.
During Advent, Christians have long been encouraged to wait. But it is likely a different kind of waiting. Franciscan brother Richard Rohr, says that there is an urgent need “for an adult Christianity.. . .we {cannot} allow this great feast of Christmas, and its preparation in Advent to be watered down in any way. . .{T}he actual message of Jesus, Jesus identified with what he called the coming of the ‘reign of God’ or the ‘kingdom of God’ whereas we {have} often settled for the sweet coming of a baby who asked little of us . . .”
So this year, as we move closer and closer to Christmas, the celebration of Emmanuel, God with us, remember Isaiah: “See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him. . .He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”
Yes God will lead us, to change and through change. Amen.

Will These Help?

2011-12-03T16:35:00.000-08:00

As usual, I have far more knitting to do that probably can be accomplished; it is December 3 after all. But maybe these needles will help; what do you think?

December 1

2011-12-01T14:25:00.000-08:00

Here it is the first day of the month that welcomes winter. . .and these petunia type flowers do NOT want to go. . .

Adam's Fifth Birthday

2011-11-26T05:42:00.000-08:00

Grandson Adam turned 5 on Thanksgiving Day this year. . . lots for which all of us are thankful! He had a party with all three of his living grandparents, two of their significant others, his two aunts and his sister and mom and dad. . .missing was Uncle Adam, who was in Hawaii -- but we skyped with him.
What a great day!

Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack Bazaar

2011-11-18T14:45:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow's the day. . .here it comes!

Sermon for November 13

2011-11-13T14:01:00.000-08:00

Text: Matthew 25:14-30
Preached: November 13, 2011; 22nd Sunday after Pentecost; YEAR A
Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack, NY

When my kids were school-agers,I remember how fun it would be for them to have friends over,
and to listen to them chatting away, not at all concerned, or even aware, that I was well within earshot.
I remember my daughter Sarah’s good friend Karen.
Karen was third in a line of 6 or 7 siblings; that was part of her charm for Sarah, the youngest of 3.

One day Sarah and Karen’s conversation turned to the subject of church –where their families worshiped, what they did in church, and so on.

I heard Karen say, “We don’t go to church anymore; we used to, but now we don’t because all they do is ask for money.”
Of course this wonderful child was repeating what she’d learned within her household;
I don’t remember where Karen and Sarah’s conversation went after her comment;
it probably flowed seamlessly into another pertinent topic for them. Exactly what a conversation between 12 year old girls does effortlessly.

But I remember that my heart flipped a little sad flip. I was sad that Karen’s family had to feel that way. Maybe the minister and other leaders in her church WERE always asking for money. But it’s just as likely that Karen’s parents, unable to absorb that the asking was not only directed toward them, but to the entire congregation,

felt inadequate, or worried, defensive, chagrined.

Perhaps you’ve wondered as I have over the years: How are we supposed to talk about money in the church? How can we be both encouraging of one another and straight-forwardabout what the needs are to continue to function as a congregation with a full time pastor and with maintained property and with the ability to be faithful

in our care for the world and its people with all their deep needs?
How can the invitation to generously financially support the church
be just that – invitational – not making people feel inadequate or worried,
defensive or chagrined? How can we talk enough about finances without giving the impression that the church is “always asking for money?”

Let me be more personal in this sermon today.

I’ve been in some form of pastoral ministry now for nearly 20 years. I graduated from Western Theological Seminary in 1992 and before that had served on a consistory of a Reformed Church as an elder.

So, as you can imagine, I’ve gone through many, many church budget planning sessions and have watched the unfolding of particular plans throughout a following year. I’ve watched that, been part of that in several congregations.
I’ve watched the faithfulness of God’s people and sometimes along with that their fear and doubt. I’ve never witnessed God’s unfaithfulness. Which is not the same as saying
that I’ve never witnessed a congregation needing to change its spending plan during the course of a fiscal year.

But the instances of that are rare.

ssssssssss

I wonder,what, if anything, today’s gospel lesson says to all of this.

Perhaps you’ve noticed how often the parables that Jesus told have servants or slaves and masters in them. That’s because as a storyteller who wanted to get his hearers listening and imagining, he used life situations with which they were very familiar.

Jesus moved around within an agrarian culture; within his stories there are several references to growing seasons and the harvesting of crops. Along with that, 1^st century Palestine was a place in which the social structure included a hierarchy that firmly delineated servants and slaves from landowners and masters. Probably if Jesus were telling parables today, he would be more inclined to talk sports, both from the stand-point of the athlete and the spectator, or presidential debates, or the astounding uses of the latest version of the iphone.

But the parable we read in Matthew 25 is about a man who gave three of his slaves

part of his property—something tangible—a chunk of money. Two of the slaves, the ones with the most money, take some risks, and end up doubling their investments.
And one slave is just too afraid of losing; he keeps his money safe the only way he knows how – he stashes it away and doesn’t touch it after that. And it seems that he does this with a degree of confidence. He knows his master – he thinks he does at least.

But his master is disappointed and tells him he at least could have invested the money with the bankers. Alathough that seems not to be the master’s first choice as to what the slave should have done, but it was an option.

Too often perhpas we’ve spent time with this story and wondered about the differing amounts of money, or have substituted that word ‘talent’from what it means here – an amount of money, and made it fit with that word’s present day uses – meaning an aptitude or an ability.

Today lets to set aside thoughts about abilities and forget about the varying amounts of money bestowed. Because they could be beside the point. This is a story about risk.

About its appropriateness.
Perhaps even about its necessity.
Which is not to say that I don’t identify with that cautious servant; I really do.
I’ll bet he was a decent guy. More than decent. But I want to learn from his fear.
What was the price for being afraid to step into the unknown? I see that his life is paralyzed by anxiety. He seems to believe that not risking was the faithful thing to do,
forgetting that to be human is to live in the unknown.

We all live in risk—who of us really knows what tomorrow will bring?

Just getting up and going about our day is an act of faith.

Christian faith is a breathtaking risk because we do not have certainty prior to commitment. We do not have proof beyond a doubt. We risk in committing ourselves to a Christ we cannot see. And perhaps we risk even more when we commit ourselves to a Church that we can see.

To be a follower of Jesus Christ means to be willing to lose our lives, let go safety,

relinquish certainty, in order to gain life. No one can tell us what the specifics of that are—there are choices each of us make in dependence upon God.

sssssssss

This is difficult stuff. I know.

Remember the churches and their budgets and spending plans that I mentioned earlier in this sermon? Well as challenging as it is to believe, the consistories and congregations that were less insistent upon creating a spending plan in which things lined up perfectly, were more apt to increase in all that they did and to thrive.

And I don’t believe that their bold budgets were the cause of fiscal health, but rather that their adventurous spirits, their faith in God, enabled all those good things to happen

Friendsw, God is bigger than our religious industry.

Sometimes we are tempted to protect God—to protect God from having to do the hard work, or what seems to us to be the hard work of pulling in profits in areas
we deem as beyond God’s interests. Oh yes, God wants us to be faithful and thoughtful,
reasonable, but also wants us to join in this business of risk taking.

If God didn’t take risks, where would we be? Don’t put God under the mattress. God is out and about, working God’s will in this world.

God's mercy never ends.
God’s mercy never ends.
And that is a way of saying that grace has capital,
love is rich.

In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

The Pelerine

2011-11-08T04:07:00.000-08:00

I knit this pelerine, or cape/poncho type garment for Anna.
It goes with her coloring very well.

. . . and now

2011-11-07T07:09:00.000-08:00

Someone asked what the inside morning glories looked like now -- after most all growing outside things have come to their brown death. The top picture shows that inside, there still is blooming life. The second picture shows that outside, there seems to be absolutely no sign of verdancy. Makes me wonder about things: like what is the actual connection in the vine itself? One would think that if the original source were dead, there could be no more blooming (?) Or maybe the original source is not yet dead, but just looks that way. Maybe the inside vine has its own resources for life to keep on living. The bottom picture was taken today, November 7th, 2011. This petunia just wants to keep living.

Blue Like None Other

2011-10-25T18:09:00.001-07:00

Pine Carpet

2011-10-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

For the last week my driveway has turned from asphalt to lovely, soft, tan carpeting -- made of pine needles. It's really quite lovely to drive onto this and walk on it to get my newpaper.

The Green Stained Porch

2011-10-12T09:05:00.001-07:00

I love my front porch -- even in it's coldmossstained condition.

Socks for Julia

2011-10-08T18:16:00.000-07:00

Lovely socks for a lovely little girl. . .

They Bloomed!

2011-10-04T13:15:00.000-07:00

Back in the middle of the summer, a morning glory vine found a way to wend it's way around the air conditioner and through one of the little spaces between the conditioner and the window and into my home. Maybe it liked it cooler too. And now, as fall is zipping along, the plant has decided to bloom -- indoors!
I love morning glories.

Sunday Rain

2011-10-02T04:37:00.000-07:00

It has rained a lot in the last 6 weeks or so in the part of the world in which I live. Lots of people could have used an ark in these days.

Cats of Catskill

2011-09-23T08:21:00.001-07:00

What if. . .

2011-09-05T05:58:00.000-07:00

Sermon based on Matthew 18: 15-20; Exodus 12:1-14

What could possibly connect the instruction stories we find in the book of Exodus andthe gospel of Matthew this morning? Well, maybe just that both come across as, among other things, words that instruct.

However they were given first to individuals who lived in completely different cultures and times. I mean, they lived not just in different centuries but in different millennia! It’s part of the challenge of scripture reading: how do we take the readings we find in the bible and make them meaningful, inspiring for us?

The book of Exodus is the story of the Israelites flight from Egypt and their time in the wilderness under Moses' leadership. I have to say,that these stories are among my favorites of bible stories. And I think that’s because I heard them over and over when I was a little girl. I don’t remember if I was bored with them back then; I might have been; doesn’t seem to matter today. We're reading a dramatic moment here. The plagues to this point have had little effect on Pharaoh and God has
decided that something drastic must be done. God is giving instructions for how the Israelites should sacrifice and prepare their homes so that they are "passed over" by the final plague, the death of the firstborns.(I also remember wondering when I was a little girl if that meant that I would have been the one spared, if I were an Israelite child – I was the first born in the family–or if it would be my younger brother Andy, who was the first boy born to my parents. I already was learning that at least in Bible Times, girls didn’t seem to count as much to most people)

The Israelites are instructed to mark their doorposts with blood, and in so doing they can be assured that the Lord will pass over their homes and leave their firstborns unharmed. In order to remember all that the Lord has done, observant Jews today re-enact some of the rituals suggested in this passage in their Passover seder. They remember by doing and in doing they are shaped. And their shape affects th way they make daily choices about their life.

Rituals can make a difference – they can be empty and meaningless, or they can move us to deeply intentional living and great love.

And then there’s this little part of Matthew chapter 18 that we read this morning. Scary thing, this passage – at least it is to me.
Doesn't usually work.
I'm wondering if Jesus was thinking of fully self-differentiated, calm, open, listening, non-combative people when he said those things. People so comfortable in their own skin that they took another’s criticism only as that person’s attempt to help them. Because that's the only kind of people for whom this could possibly work. And even then. . . well, I’m just not so sure.

It’s a hard passage.

And I've read enough scholars and recall enough professors who questioned whether Jesus said "most" of these particular words. Was it more Matthew, early in the formation of the Christian community, wanting these words to help heal rifts or answer unanswerable questions? I suspect Jesus mostly publicly said confrontational things. To unsettle people, to engage in a lively give-and-take, to help the other dig deeper into the soul (or to realize they refused to). But did Matthew hope that just the power of following Jesus ways would help others confront each other?
That people in conflict would be "calm, open, listening" people because he invoked Jesus' words?

Of course we don't know.

But these words carve away at our soul because it's what we hope for, isn't it? That we can find a bridge between another person, especially when they've sinned against us. And if the"other" doesn't listen to our "reason," than to hell with them.
But what if instead of thinking of what we should do when it seems another has sinned,we realize that Jesus is talking about us?

What if Jesus was talking about me? What if I'm the other person? What if I'm the one that won't get it? That I’m the one whose ways should change. Too often, I am. What if instead of seeing these words as step by step instructions for us they are words about us? What if we discover in praying over this passage, that it is a call to repentance?

God help us as we attempt to focus our energies on loving and respecting each other while we remember the ways we have been loved and respected. Amen.

Come On In . . .

2011-08-19T07:57:00.001-07:00

A Morning Glory vine, growing outside my house, under a window air conditioner, has worked its way over the air conditioner, and into a tiny space between it and the window holding it in place. This vine has grown rapidly inside my home now, up around the lace curtains. In the first days, I would notice such growth from morning until that same evening that I was tempted to just sit someplace and actually watch it grow. I hope it blooms!

Going To The Dogs

2011-08-14T17:23:00.000-07:00

In communicating with a minister friend this past week
through our mutual blogs,
I read something I’ve often felt:
He wrote,
I always kind of cringe when I read this story
in Matthew chapter 15.
We agreed that it was
challenging to preach about this churlish Jesus.
We know that most people prefer
to keep their images of Jesus
kind and tender – holding lambs and children.
A man clothed usually in white
and gently walking around.

But there are gospel instances
that give us a picture of a fully human Jesus
with all the feelings and foibles that any of us possess.

A Canaanite woman cries out to Jesus to heal her daughter.
By the end of the story, her daughter has been healed –
but between the crying and the healing,
Jesus says some terrible things.

He’s arrogant, racist and just plain mean.
Yes, we believe that Jesus was “truly human,”
but we don’t want him to be too human.
So over the years,
people have tried to clean up this story.
One attempt goes something like this:
Jesus was testing this woman to see if she had enough faith.
When she passed the test, Jesus said, “Woman, great is your faith!
Let it be done for you as you wish.”

But that understanding – which is certainly allowable
has caused plenty of pain – and that makes us want to rethink it.
It’s caused pain because some people have heard Jesus saying,
“If you had more faith your husband or wife,
your mother or father or child would not have died.”
But that really isn’t so;
there’s no need to think the Bible says that.

Matthew doesn’t clean up this story.
And he paints a specific picture of this woman.
She is a Canaanite woman.
She is not one of Jesus’ people.

Jesus has gone into the region of Tyre and Sidon.
This is her home – her neck of the woods.
Matthew’s choice of the word “Canaanite”
seems a bit strange.
By the time of Jesus,
people were no longer called “Canaanites.”
This name was no longer on the map –
it was a bit like calling New York, New Amsterdam!

But it’s likely that Matthew chooses “Canaanite” on purpose:
not only is she the “other,”
but she is part of an enemy people.

She seems to know who Jesus is.
She begs him to heal her daughter
who is tormented by a demon.

She’s desperate and comes out shouting.
Some history scholars claim
that at this time the only women who spoke to men
in public were prostitutes.

Is this what we do to people who are different?
Do we also make them morally suspect?
Maybe Matthew wants us to remember Rahab
the prostitute who is named in Jesus’ genealogy at the beginning of Matthew.
(Matt. 1: 5)
She, too, was a Canaanite who lived in the city of Jericho (Joshua 2).
What’s a Canaanite prostitute doing in Jesus’ family tree?
Bible reading can lead to lots of questions.

The disciples don’t want to think about such questions.
They want nothing to do with this woman:
“Send her away!” they tell Jesus.

That’s what they tried to do not long ago
when faced with more than 5000 hungry people.

“Send the crowds away,” the disciples said.
“You give them something to eat,” said Jesus.

This Canaanite woman isn’t going anywhere.
She may not be Jewish
but she calls out to Jesus in language of the Jewish prayer:
“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David.”
But Jesus isn’t swayed by familiar language.
“I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel,” he tells her.

She won’t give up.
“Lord, help me,” she begs.
This is where Jesus goes to the dogs:
“It is not fair to take the children’s food
and throw it to the dogs.”

But the Canaanite woman persists.
The life of her daughter is at stake.
She picks up Jesus’ words and throws them right back:
“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs
eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”

When Jesus hears this, he says, “Woman, great is your faith!”
But she hasn’t made any confession of faith.
There’s no sign she’s been born again.
She simply spoke the truth:
That’s what Jesus finally heard and came to believe.
“For saying that, you may go – the demon has left your daughter.”

Jesus was converted that day
to a larger vision of the Kingdom of God.
Jesus saw and heard a fuller revelation
of God in the voice and in the face of the Canaanite woman.

The woman’s truth is evident in the way
Matthew tells this story.
At the end of this chapter there is another feeding story.
This time 4000 men are fed -- besides women and children –
and there were seven baskets left over.

Seven is the number of wholeness, completeness,
a number encompassing the nations.

Matthew has placed the story of Jesus and the Canaanite woman
between these two feeding stories.

The Canaanite woman taught Jesus
that she and her daughter deserve more than crumbs.

After this encounter
Jesus went on to feed those who had not yet been fed.

If Jesus could be changed, can we?
Every generation sees some people as “other”
and puts them under the table.

We could make a long list of people we see as different –
different race,
different customs,
different religion
different________
well, just fill in the blank.
Barbara Lundblad tells this story:
Not that long ago,
I watched on the news
a white woman who looked a bit like me
speaking through her tears,
“What happened to my America? I want my America back.”

I guess, says Barbara, she meant an America
where people look like her and me.

Over the past ten years,
many in the United States have come to see Muslims as the other.
They are the Canaanites –
not only in this country but in Europe and Scandinavia.

In protests against a proposed Muslim Cultural Center
in lower Manhattan, people carried signs that read:
“All I need to know about Islam I learned on 9/11.”
Really?

What if someone protested outside our church with a sign saying:
“All I need to know about Christianity
I learned from Rev. Terry Jones.”
Or Jim Jones.
Both men are, or were Christians.

Muslims have become Canaanites
to many in our country.

Are we going to act like
Jesus’ disciples?
“Send the Muslims away for they are ruining our country!”

Or maybe we will be
as willing to learn as Jesus was.

Maybe we will catch a larger vision
of the Kingdom of God. Amen.

*Thanks to B. Lundblad for inspiration and words

Stick in Hand

2011-08-11T09:26:00.001-07:00

This little girl is my granddaughter Anna.
She is such a lovely little innocent playing in Grandma's yard.

"And this is the sun's birthday . . "

2011-08-08T11:15:00.000-07:00

Always liked that line from ee cumings poem about thanking God for a beautiful day.
And the 'sun's birthday' line also played around in my head sometimes by changing to 'son's' birthday and then Christmas images played around some more.

But today, I think of MY son -- my 35 year old son whose birthday it is today.
He is a son to delight in and be very grateful for.

Here he is -- in a nearly two year old picture with his two children.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOE!

Out of the Thicket

2011-06-26T05:20:00.001-07:00

Last week Sunday I was at a worship service
in which the minister introduced
the Scripture reading by saying it was from “the book that we love”.
Now there are many loveable things about the Bible,
but story found in Genesis chapter 22 may not be one of them.

On the other hand, sometimes this is people’s experience:
a well-known passage of scripture
becomes dulled and softened by its familiarity.

I have sometimes secretly envied those
who hear particular passages for the first time in adulthood:
because the impact of the story can be startling – in a good way.
I, to the contrary,
heard the stories of the Pentateuch over and over and over again in childhood.
Including this one.

And what often happens to children,
whether it be stories they hear or
just their lives in general
become amazingly ‘normalized.’
To children, it becomes
just “the way it is.”

So the shocking circumstances of this story,
never seemed shocking to me – especially because,
after all, all’s well that ends well, right?

When I was in seminary over 20 years ago,
I learned some Hebrew.

The Reformed Church in America,
as do many, but not all, denominations
requires the learning of biblical Hebrew and Greek
for those seeking ordination into ministry of Word and sacrament.
In my seminary Hebrew class,
it was this passage from Genesis – the first verses
of chapter 22, that we read in depth,
line by line, word by word.
And it appeared on the final examination.

Hebrew is interesting – so different from Greek and certainly from English.
It’s a visual language – leaning heavily on
word plays – both in how words look and what they mean.
It’s abstract – not concrete.
There is maneuvering room
There are hardly any verbs –
however markings
on some letters found in individual words
give hints or at least choices
for supplying the word that best describes the action going on.
I like Hebrew,
but like I said, it sure is different.

Somehow reading this story in Genesis 22
in its original language
gave me a much broader,
and less horrifying take on it.
While it can sound
like one of those appalling stories in the Bible,
it is also a story that fits rather predictably
into its setting.
I mean this:
the people of Abraham’s time,
those in his world – the ancient people
who worshiped many and various gods,
were not at all shocked by human sacrifice.
It wasn’t fun, but it was how they lived.
It wasn’t rare – especially for children.
So those first hearers of this story – Abraham’s grand children
and great grand children
and their cousins and friends,
would not be as horrified as we are in the hearing.
What WOULD be surprising and certainly noteworthy
would be the end of the story – God’s intervention
and God’s command to NOT harm Isaac.

When I heard a professor say
that he thought the lesson of this narrative
was that Yahweh God, as opposed to other gods,
did NOT require human sacrifice,

I remember thinking, “Wait a minute,
how does that fit with our notions
about atonement and JESUS’ sacrifice?

Well, that’s a pretty significant question,
but one that we’ll have to set aside for another sermon,
although it does seem appropriate to wonder
about how blood-thirsty God is – or not.

So what ARE we going to do with this story today?

As I’ve mentioned before,
one of the things I do in preparation
for proclaiming God’s word each Sunday
is to read the coming Sunday’s lectionary passages
over and over.
I sometimes imagine the passages for the week
to be in conversation with one another.
This can be difficult.
And I’m not really suggesting
that it is primarily an academic endeavor either.
It is just that when I read the scriptures – there are usually 4 of them,
listed in the lectionary,
I wonder what they can be saying to one another
in addition to us.
I wonder how they shed light on one another.

These are challenging readings today.

What does a text
that has Jesus empowering
and moving disciples
to offer a cup of cold water to God's children
as the very representatives of Christ himself
have to say to a text that has a father
almost killing his own son
before a ram is found stuck in a thicket?

Oh, we could think about sacrifices
that we must make in our lives,
how we must be willing to give up
the very thing that means the most to us,
in order to give our whole selves to God.

We could think about how God
will always provide what is needed for us
even in a moment that seems
to be so completely desperate and painful.

We've heard those sermons.
Good sermons.
Good lessons to learn.

It just doesn't deal with the issue of God asking for this sacrifice
or that an innocent child almost died because of it.

So, we wonder, can't we just pretend it doesn't exist at all?
Maybe Abraham just thought
he heard the voice of God.

But there is nothing in the text to support saying that.
It just sure would make it easier for us
to think that a human got it wrong
instead of thinking that a loving God
had asked for such a distressing thing to be done.

Now if you’ve been following along today
and are hoping that I’ll come to some great,
clear, satisfying answers for the questions raised
in this passage,
I'll save you the trouble of continuing to tag along.

I don't completely understand it
(even after having read it in its original language.)
And perhaps that is the point after all.
Often we don't understand.

We think we should take path A
only to find ourselves a few intersections down the way
learning that it really should have been path B.
If God is in conversation with Abraham
from the Matthew text
to the Genesis text,
I can see that he may be reminding all of us
that we won't always know the way.

Sometimes we will even mistake our way
for God’s way.

And, even when that is the case,
God provides what we need,
allows us to represent Christ on this earth.

I am grateful that we have ALL of scripture – even the hard parts.
Maybe what we really need to ask
in relation to these texts is what are the ways
in which we are representing Christ
to a world that feels desperate,
confused, in pain, and willing
to sink into violence in search for answers.

Perhaps it is time to find our way out of the thicket
and offer a drink of water.

The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

Sermon

2011-05-24T06:47:00.000-07:00

Receiving Mercy
Texts: Acts 7:54-60; Ps. 31:1-5,15-16; 1 Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14
Preached: May 22, 2011; 5th Sunday of Easter; YEAR A

I don’t know about you,
but whenever I’ve heard the story of Stephen’s stoning,
I haven’t thought about the actual death that much.
And I suppose that’s the way it often is
with any gruesome biblical story – of which there are many.

Even the crucifixion,
which comes to bear upon our imaginations and hearts
during each Holy Week,
is probably not be something we think of regularly
in its graphic goriness.

And as I was reading this story from Acts
in these last days,
I noticed how numb I’ve mostly been
to the details of Stephen’s death – knowing about it,
without knowing it.

Khaled Hosseini is an Afghan American,
born in Kabul in 1965
and through twists and turns
of the history of Afghanistan
and his family’s circumstances,
is now today, a physician living in California.

But Hosseini is also a writer,
and perhaps some of you have read
his novel, The Kite Runner.

The Kite Runner is a story about a young man
born also in Afghanistan
who witnesses the rise of the Taliban’s power
and the great catastrophic changes
and distress within his homeland.
The novel is a great piece of contemporary historical fiction.

And the reason I thought of this story
while reading Acts 7,
is that there is a description of a death,
actually 2 deaths in this novel,
that made the bible story of Stephen’s striking death,
more real to me.

In The Kite Runner, Amir, the main character
finds himself,
after moving to America, and now an adult,
back in Afghanistan.

He’s on a particular mission,
and while attending a soccer match,
he reminisces, recalling the days he’d been
at this same soccer field with his father in years past.

Amir says,
“I remember how green the playing field grass had been in the 70’s
when Baba used to bring me to soccer games here.
Now. . . . (t)here were holes and craters everywhere, most notably
a pair of deep holes in the ground behind the south end goalposts.”

And at halftime,
3 dusty red pickup trucks come roaring onto the field.
The first’s passenger is a blindfolded woman,
the second’s a blindfolded man,
and the third has no passenger,
just a large pile of something
in its truck bed.

The two blindfolded passengers are lowered into the
holes in the ground,
And Amir now understands those holes’ purpose.
With a cleric speaking into a microphone
the crowd of Afghan soccer fans
hear these words.
“Every sinner must be punished in a manner
befitting his sin!
. . .how shall we punish those who dishonor the sanctity of marriage?
How shall we deal with those who spit in the face of God?
How shall we answer those who throw stones
at the windows of God’s house?
WE SHALL THROW THE STONES BACK!”

The description of what follows,
is far more detailed than what we read in Acts 7.
For me,
reading this novel
with horrific incidents that copy
actual, 20th and 21st century happenings
in our world,
woke me up
to the pain and suffering and blood
of Stephen, who lived and died
hundreds of years ago.
Unlike the characters
in Hosseini’s novel,
we have no reason to believe that Stephen’s
capital punishment was
halftime entertainment,
never the less, it was in the same way
an attempt to instill fear
and to make clear “who was boss.”
Stephen’s crime, however, was not moral in nature;
his crime was rather “talking too much”. . .
and saying things that just made people furious.
It didn’t start out that way;
Stephen had been appointed a deacon in the early church;
the apostles found themselves
too busy to care for people as they needed to be cared for,
so Stephen, a non-Jewish believer we believe,
along with 6 others was appointed to
help with the food distribution.
Stephen took his role seriously.
We read in Acts 6 that he was
“full of grace and power, (and) did
great wonders and signs among the people.”

But then some members of one of the synagogues,
started arguing with him,
rather unsuccessfully we read,
because, as Luke, the writer of Acts says,
they “could not withstand
the wisdom and the Spirit
with which he spoke.”
Well that led to anger/
and false witnesses, we read, made Stephen look bad.
They said that he was always
saying things against the temple and the law.
They said that he said that Jesus
would destroy the temple
and change the customs and laws of Moses.
It was bad press for Stephen;
it stirred things up.
And of course,
it’s not unusual at all,
for valiantly religious people
to let their fear
turn into what they believe is righteous anger.
Stephen is a given a chance to speak, however.
He’s brought before the clerics, the elders, the scribes,
and asked if the accusations are true.
And then Stephen launches into the
longest sermon recorded in scripture.
It takes up the first 53 verses of Acts 7
and tells the story of the nation of Israel,
replete with plenty of condemnation for Israel’s
past and present transgressions,
and a declaration that Jesus’ death
had been the killing of God’s
Righteous One.
It’s not difficult to understand
why those present
ground their teeth and covered their ears.

I’ve wondered, why did Stephen
have to say so much to his hostile accusers.
Why didn't he coat the truth
with a little sugar and save his life?
That is, of course,
what our culture teaches us to do.
We are skillfully schooled
in the art of offending no one
by blurring the truth just enough
to feel honest about telling it
while standing clear of possible repercussions.
For Stephen there was no compromise,
no sidestepping the issues or tap-dancing around reality.
Stephen chose to speak the truth, the unmasked truth, in spite of the obvious threat of consequences.
And he died. . .broken boned and bloodied.

So what, today, is the Good News?
What is the gospel?

When we come to worship,
we come to declare God’s goodness
and to be challenged to be like God.
We come to receive with rejoicing new members through baptism.
We come to be fed and nourished through word and sacrament.

We come, to hear God’s promises.

The difficult-to-hear story of Stephen,
God’s servant’s messy death,
is a story of promise despite its severity.

Stephen was not just some crazed fanatic;
he was a recipient of God’s mercy.
And in being such he was able to be merciful himself.

He knew Jesus so well,
that he could see how Jesus and God were bound together.
He experienced the resurrected Jesus
standing right beside God.

It was a gift of mercy—this vision;
it was deep and abiding assurance for him,
that he was beloved and would never be forsaken.
And so like Jesus and the Psalmist before him,
he knew he could hand his spirit over to God,
in life, and in death, and that he would be held in love.

But that’s not all:
he could also ask for forgiveness
for those killing him.

Imagine that.

We hear the stories of Jesus’ death
and hear those same words from Jesus’ mouth
at his death.
But we let ourselves off the hook so to speak,
from practicing such monstrous magnanimity
by saying, “well, that’s Jesus.”
But here’s Stephen,
a person like you and me,
receiving mercy,
and giving it out, in like measure.
It’s an amazing thing.
It is the coming to pass of what Jesus said in John 14:
the one who believes in me will also do the works I do
and, in fact, will do greater works than these.
The story of Stephen
is a story of stones,
damaging, death wielding stones,
that still do not destroy Stephen’s spirit.
This “stone story” can encourage us to find mercy,
even in our darkest days.

But there are other kinds of “stone stories” in the bible.
“Come to Jesus Christ,” we are urged,
“a living stone, though rejected by mortals
yet chosen and precious in God’s sight.”
And not only is Jesus Christ named a living stone,
the writer
tells his first listeners, and us,
that they, that we,
are also stones,
like building blocks for goodness.
You are holy, you are precious,
you are chosen, you are called,
you are, in the eyes of God, important,
significant, and necessary people.
And it is through the Christ in you that
you have become the building blocks
of the new creation.
Today we mark the end of this year’s Sunday School season.
We not only are grateful for the teachers who have
taught our children – some of them for many years.
We recognize that in so doing
they have been themselves ‘building blocks”
of the new creation,
they have helped our children become the same.
And that too, is the gospel, the Good News today.

Stephen, looking into heaven
received mercy – and gave it.
Jesus promised that that place in heaven
is ours too – he promises us a dwelling place, a room in it.
And we are called precious in God’s sight,
chosen to be loved,
to receive mercy.

Friends,
through the gifts of story and metaphor,
of spirit and vision,
we can see the risen Christ, right next to God.
And that makes us God’s people,
receiving, and giving mercy. Amen.

Gardening

2011-05-19T09:49:00.000-07:00

I just spent I'd say two hours gardening: moving dirt around, pulling weeds -- lots of weeds. Sometimes I was digging them out with my handy dandy digger thing. And I hauled I-lost-count-of-how-many-wheelbarrow-fulls of good, good topsoil to their assigned places. Oh how I wanted to keep working! I wanted to push-through and grab a glass of water and just go at it again. But I also thought I would probably really pay for it the rest of the day and maybe even tomorrow. I'm at the age (probably have been for awhile already, but I'm more aware of it now) at which one needs to measure energy spent and be practical. Sigh. :)

Graduation

2011-05-17T10:06:00.000-07:00

This past weekend our family celebrated one of those many 'markings' that any family experiences often in their life together. Those markings include births, baptisms, birthdays, graduations, weddings, deaths -- and more.

My former husband's and my youngest daughter graduated with a Master of Divinity degree from a seminary in Chicago. She has worked dilgently and with perseverance to attain this and we, our whole family, is proud of her; and we were all there.

All, at this point means the graduate, her spouse, her sister, her brother and his spouse and two children, her father and his significant other and her mother, me.

Lots of families go through re-configurations for all kinds of reasons and ours is no exception. There can be awkwardness and even bitterness that follow some of those changes. And that is why I am exceedingly thankful and proud of my family! We had a joyful, happy time; we experienced each others' presence and enjoyed watching each other interact in life-giving ways.

This past weekend was GRACE filled!

100 Years

2011-05-07T17:59:00.000-07:00

There was a party today near here -- for a woman who turned 100. Her name is Anna.
The room in which the party was held (in the church fellowship hall) was PACKED. And there was loud and 'dancy' music blaring out of it. I peeked in and didn't see Anna, but I know she was there. . .and the music was way too loud for me so I didn't venture further in. Maybe she is pretty deaf and LIKES it loud like that. Maybe she really doesn't care, since to live that long, one must have to be very, very tolerant.

A Prayer for Easter

2011-04-24T04:35:00.000-07:00

Resurrection
by John van de Laar

In the nervous silence of our doubts,
we aware of nothing but your absence, Jesus,
begin to wonder whether the rumors of your death are true;

Then, suddenly, you are among us,
your presence so real we can almost touch you
your life flowing out into the world unconstrained;

And we realize that there is nothing to fear,
that the worst that the world can throw at us
is insufficient to suppress the inexorable rising of resurrection.

We offer our praise, Jesus, and our thanks
for your life that cannot be quenched,
that fills us now,
and that calls us to be resurrection people
in a world that too often believes
the deceptions of death.

Death on the Floor

2011-04-16T06:46:00.000-07:00

So last night I'm sitting quietly knitting in my living room -- no music or television on -- not sure where Athena is, but kind of surprised that she hadn't found my lap or at least the section of the couch by my feet. Usually she scampers to me whenever I sit there.

So like I said, I'm sitting quietly and a tiny, tiny MOUSE skitters under my coffee table.

WHERE is that cat when I need her!! Now I'm worried that something has happened to Athena and she's gone or dead and that now I'm destined to hundreds of mice scuttling into my home. I searched for Athena -- she was 'captured' in the attic -- she must have sneaked up there when I was showing the attic to a friend from Michigan who had stopped by. (who btw told me that my kids would be very irritated with me someday because of all the stuff I have). I was glad to find Athena and not so much for cuddling reasons.

She caught the mouse within 3 minutes. FUN for her. She pounces, injures, and then bats it around the floor. I kept thinking it was now dead, but then it would wiggle or roll again. After awhile I picked it up with 3 tissues and threw it outside. Athena didn't mind. She probably thought, 'there's more where that came from. . ."

SHUDDER

Identity at the Well

2011-03-28T17:15:00.000-07:00

Texts: Ps. 95; John 4:5-42
Preached: March 27, 2011; 3rd Sunday in Lent; YEAR A
Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack, New York
K.L. Davelaar

I’ve sat in on all sorts of conversations over the years.
As I was preparing to preach this sermon,
I remembered a long ago discussion
about the difference between shame and guilt.
I think until that conversation,
I’d pretty much thought of shame and guilt as different words
for the same thing.
And while those words – especially as found in hymns
and some bible translations – are often substituted for each other,
there’s really a pretty striking difference between the two.
Simply put,
guilt, when experienced and recognized personally,
says, “I did a bad thing.”
Shame, on the other hand,
when experienced and recognized personally,
says, “I am bad.”
I don’t believe that God is in any way pleased when we experience
shame, as described in that way.

While I made mistakes
in raising my children,
as all parents do,
one of the things I take comfort in,
is that the words “shame on you” never passed my lips.
Naming our own guilt,
feeling sorry and asking forgiveness for the mistakes we’ve made,
and the brokenness we cause is another matter.
We ask for forgiveness from each other and from God.

But shame?
It is the cause of so much sadness and badness
and perpetuates a cycle of sorrow and evil
that should not be.
Violence, against each other,
against ourselves,
often proceeds from a sense of shame.
Those who act violently
are often lashing out at
whatever or whomever they've projected their own shame onto.

This leads to a spiral of violence,
as those ashamed of being bullied become bullies,
the abused become abusers,
and the cycle continues, or even escalates.
It happens,
generation to generation within families.

It happens
generation to generation between ethnic groups and nations.

This need not continue, though; Jesus showed us a way out of it.
Jesus is traveling through Samaria,
a land populated by Samaritans, those people whom
Jesus’ family and friends, the culture of which he was a part, despised.

It wasn't always that way.
About 600 years earlier, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon
dealt the Israelites a humiliating military victory,
destroying the Temple that Solomon had built
and bringing the leadership of Judea to Babylon in chains.
The sting of that defeat didn't lessen in the years to come.
People were looking for someone to blame long after the Exile ended.
Knowing that Israel's safety lay not in superior arms,
but in God's protection,
the people and leaders of Israel
tried to explain how it was that God allowed this to happen.
People often do that – playing mental and emotional gymnastics
trying to explain God’s seeming action or lack of action.
People like Ezra and Nehemiah, who were leaders
to the Judeans who returned from exile.
blamed those men of Israel who had married foreign women,
and they demanded that all such men immediately divorce their wives,
and thus passing along again
the experiences of humiliation, abandonment, and exile.
Many of the men, especially in the region of Samaria, however, refused,
and so they received this kind of treatment,
reported in the words of Nehemiah:

I contended with them and cursed them
and beat some of them and pulled out their hair;
and I made them take an oath in the name of God ...
Thus I cleansed them from everything foreign ...
- Nehemiah 13:25-30

We must never think that just because something is recorded in the bible,
that it names the way things are supposed to be.

It was however, in this way,
that the enmity
between Judeans and Samaritans began.
It was centuries old by the time Jesus sat by Jacob's well,
and along came a woman of Samaria.

It was noon, in the heat of the day,
and the last time that most women
would have wanted to do the heavy lifting
and make that walk
back to the village involved in getting water from the well.
The other women went early in the morning
or in the cool of the evening,
when the work wouldn't be quite as hard,
and the drudgery of hauling water
would be broken by the fellowship shared
by the women around the well.

A woman who chose instead
to go to the well at noon
must have been seeking specifically to avoid
that company;
she was an outcast even among Samaritans.

She was used to the whispering in the village
wherever she went,
having been used and discarded by so many men of the village,
and in a culture
in which there was little if any privacy,
and gossip spread news quickly.

As oppressive as the noonday sun is,
it doesn't burn like the stares of the others in the village.
So she goes to the well at noon, thinking that she would be alone.
But she isn't.
Jesus is there, and he speaks to her.

Now men spoke to women directly
and in public like that
only if they were related by blood,
or as a proposition,
so it's no wonder that there's an edge
in the woman's replies to Jesus.

But Jesus addresses her in the same terms
as he addressed his mother (John 2:4).
Jesus meets a woman who couldn't be more of an outsider,
and he receives her as an insider,
an intimate who has no cause for shame.
He brings up her past, and her present,
not to shame her,
but to take away their power
in showing how little they affect
how he and the God he proclaims receive her.

In my line of work
I meet a lot of people who could rightly be called
"church-damaged,"
people who have had
some of their most painful experiences
of shame and humiliation in churches,
often in God's name.

And I've met a lot of Christians
whose ability to function as evangelists,
as people who proclaim Good News
so that others can experience it,
is seriously impaired by their concern
to make sure that sinners know
just how shameful their behavior is,
and that they be kept from the center of Christian community.
For me,
the question about how we evangelize isn't a question of
"What would Jesus do?"; it's a question of
"What DID Jesus do?" and “What DOES Jesus do?”
Jesus received the Samaritan woman
with such love and such grace
that she was profoundly transformed.
She had once accepted the village's verdict
that she was so unfit for their company
that she could draw water only at noon.

After meeting Jesus,
she's bold enough to demand (using the imperative!)
living water from him.
By the end of the conversation,
she's left her water jar behind
and is rushing into the very center of the village,
demanding to be heard by those who were once her tormentors.
“Come and see a man who told me everything I’ve ever done. Can this be the Messiah?”

And she IS heard;
many believe in Jesus because of the woman's bold testimony.

What transformed this woman could transform our world.
The woman at the well was despised by her village,
which was despised by Judeans,
whose ancestors had been humiliated by Babylonians.

From generation to generation,
humiliation, resentment,
and violence were passed down
by people keeping the score
so that they could seek to even it.

Jesus sets aside all score-keeping,
and by treating all as if all were forgiven,
he makes forgiveness possible -- even for sometimes self-righteous sinners like us.
The good news is this:
There is a transforming power in God’s love:
it can provide the capacity to receive and live into a new identity.

The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

.

Children

2011-03-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

Every Sunday, except when I'm on vacation, I have the serious (as in not to be taken lightly) opportunity/responsibility of offering a "word with the children" during worship. It's been this way for years and years and years. And when I think of that, I am sobered, because I know that sometimes the church has, albeit mostly unwittingly, hurt children over the centuries by telling them hurtful things about themselves and God and the world. Jesus says if I do that it would be better for me if a weight was hung around my neck and I was drowned (well, you know how Jesus "talked" -- I would probably never tell the kids this -- not at this point in their lives :) )

People often call this time in worship "The Children's Sermon." I refuse to call it that. Too often, the connotation is that a children's sermon is some moral lesson that is told to kids to set them on the straight and narrow, warn them of the danger that lurks at the door if they are disobedient -- how God will judge and punish.

When I look at the picture above, and think of these little ones, I can only think of this, ". . .God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him."

Thank you Jesus, for the way(s) you save us.

Stay for Tea, Nicodemus

2011-03-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

--an oldie (and possibly) a goodie

I remember someone once telling me that a sermon I had recently preached
had prompted all sorts of images and thoughts for him.
He told me a number of things he had been thinking about and then, somewhat sheepishly said that he was so busy thinking about all those things that he had to struggle to
stay with me to hear what was coming next in the sermon.
And I said, would that more people were so engaged enough with their own thoughts and questions and insights concerning the things of God, the things that God’s word
stirs up, that they would miss parts of a sermon.
That’s what a good sermon can do: it can make hearable God’s word, the word that opens up something within us.
That’s how we are born from above, born anew—over and over.
And so I invite you this morning, as I do every Sunday, whether I say this or not,
to hear the words of this sermon, but only so far as they don’t shut down your act
of responding.
Let your thoughts play—
And guide them into your consciousness.
That’s how the Spirit works—it’s like the wind, says Jesus,
blowing where it chooses.
The gospel this morning reminds us of what it was and is like to be a religious person—
or we could say, a person who wants to do the right things, the things that will bring the most meaning and guarantee an entrance to the Kingdom of God.
Such a person seeks direction and asks, what can I do, what must I do,
to reach that sense of completeness and satisfaction
that convinces me that I’m living with a purpose and experiencing the best things that life offers.
Do you know anyone like that?
Are you like that?

Listen to this a story :
Once upon a time, there was a woman who set out to discover the meaning of life.
First she read everything she could get her hands on—history, philosophy, psychology, religion. She became a very smart person, however nothing she read gave her the answer she was looking for. Oh, perhaps she thought something had for awhile, but no answer lasted for very long and she would find herself dissatisfied again and resume her quest.
In her search she found other smart people and asked them about the meaning of life,
but although their discussions were long and lively, no two of them agreed on the same thing
and still she had no answer.

Finally she put all her belongings in storage and set off in search of the meaning of life.
She went to South America. She went to India. She went to Africa and the China.
Everywhere she went, people told her they did not know the meaning of life, but they had heard of a man who did, only they were not sure where he lived. She asked about him in every country on earth until finally, deep in the Himalayas, someone told her how to reach his house—a tiny little hut perched on the side of a mountain just below the tree line.
She climbed and climbed to reach his front door.
When she finally got there, with knuckles so cold they hardly worked, she knocked.
“Yes?” said the kind-looking old man who opened the door.
She thought she would die of happiness.
“I have come halfway around the world to ask you a question,” she said, gasping for breath.
“What is the meaning of life?”
“Please come in and have some tea,” the old man said.
“No,” she said. “I mean, no thank you.
I didn’t come all this way for tea.
I came for an answer.
Won’t you tell me, please, what is the meaning of life?”

“We shall have tea,” the old man said, so she gave up and came inside.
While he was brewing the tea she caught her breath and began
telling him about all the books she had read,
all the people she had met, all the places she had been.
The old man was a good listener, which was a good thing,
since his visitor did not leave much room for him to reply.
And as she talked, he placed a fragile tea cup in her hand.
Then he began to pour tea.
She was so busy talking that she did not notice when the tea cup was full, so the old man just kept pouring until the tea ran over the sides of the cup and spilled to the floor
in a steaming waterfall.
“What are you doing,” she cried out when the tea was burning her hand.
“It’s full, can’t you see that?
Stop!
There’s no more room!”

“That’s right,” the old man said, “and just so you have come here
wanting something from me, but what am I to do?
There is no more room in your cup.
Come back when it is empty and then we will talk.”

Meanwhile, several thousand miles to the west,
a ruler of the Jews named Nicodemus came to Jesus by night.

These two dispensed with a tea ritual, but the outcome was the same.
Nicodemus came looking for answers.
Jesus would not cooperate.
He poured tea all over his visitor’s hand and said, in effect,
that Nicodemus already had gallons of answers available to him.
What was needed was one drop of experience—one moment of new birth—
and he could leave all his answers lying in puddles on the floor.
When Nicodemus protested that he did not know what Jesus was
talking about, Jesus said,
“If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe,
how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things?”

Maybe at least part of the problem was the difference between what Jesus meant
when he said “believe” and what Nicodemus meant by the same word.
Sometimes, to believe someone
means simply to accept what that person says as true, usually on the basis of evidence.
Let’s say that someone shows you a picture of himself climbing the rock face of a mountain,
and tells you that it can be done, and you say, “I believe you.”
You accept the statement.
You give your intellectual assent, but it does not interfere with the way you live your life,
because it is all in your head.
There is, however, another level of belief that is far more visceral.
Instead of showing you pictures, someone invites you to go rock climbing with him.

As he checks the knots on your harness and runs your safety line through the metal ring and then around his own waist, he assures you that everything will be all right.

The proper response at that point is not “I believe you,” but “I believe in you,” because
you are way past anything like intellectual assent.
You have set yourself in a relationship with this person and you are trusting him with your life.
Nicodemus was half way there.
He came by night to interview the new teacher in town.
He knew he was good—he had checked his references—but he wanted more information.
He wanted to see the accident reports, check out the insurance coverage.
He wanted to handle the gear, maybe try it on for size,
before he climbed that mountain.
He wanted the teacher to say something to take away his doubts and make it easy for him to say yes, but the teacher would not cooperate.
Believe in me.
That was Jesus’ dare to Nicodemus.
Turn your cup upside down.
Turn your mind inside out.
Step into the air.
Ride the wind.
Be born anew, and live.

“How can these things be?”
Those are Nicodemus’ last words in this passage, which makes him a sort of patron saint for all of us who get stuck at the foot of the mountain, looking up,
without the faintest idea of how to begin.
Here is how, Jesus says.
Watch me.
Put your hand here.
Now bring up your foot.
Don’t think about it too hard.
Just do as I do.
Believe me.
Believe in me, and when we get to the top, we will have some tea.

The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

Maple Sugaring

2011-03-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

Today was Ryan and Heather's annual Maple Sugaring Party -- a rite of approaching spring. They boil and boil these days. And they and their friends gather -- and there is more maple laced food than you can imagine. Even Maple Sugar beer :)

Open Window

2011-03-11T14:00:00.000-08:00

The weather has changed: there is a true balminess at particular moments, not merely a pretend one. This afternoon, while the sun shone a bit more brightly, as it does each day, I opened a window near my bed and took a nap. The smell was magnificent. I fell asleep smiling.

Athena in a Box

2011-02-27T08:45:00.000-08:00

Yes, I've become one of those people who puts her pet on her blog. Too bad, I guess :) I have purchased toys for my cat Athena, but her favorite things are ususally cardboard boxes.

Holy and Perfect

2011-02-20T08:34:00.001-08:00

Texts: Leviticus 19: 1-2, 9-18
1 Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23
Matthew 5:38-48
I have trouble with an idea
and image that Christians sometimes
put out there as the difference between
the God revealed in the Old Testament
and the one revealed in the New Testament.
You know,
the one that says that the God in the Old Testament
is the angry God – the God of judgment and retribution
and that the God in the New Testament
is the kind, forgiving merciful God.
It’s just not how I see it.
And this Old Testament passage we heard from Leviticus today
is a prime example of why I don’t buy that
false split between the testaments.
From Leviticus of all places.
Talk about an Old Testament book we Christians are likely to
dismiss as just a bunch of esoteric and outdated instructions.
But here it is – in Leviticus chapter 19 –
a clear revelation of the God of mercy and good will
and the desire for us, as God’s children to be merciful and gracious too.

This lesson from the Old Testament
starts out with God naming himself as holy.

God is holy.
And while that word “holy”
has come to mean many things to us,
it’s original meaning,
and certainly its meaning here in Leviticus is this:
To be holy is to be unique – distinctive.

Holy means “set apart” – not every day or common.

I’m holy, says God.
That means I’m different – and I want you,
my people to be holy and different too.
Like this:

When you go out and harvest,
like all people do when it is time to reap the grain,
I don’t want you to go way to the edge of the field.
I want you to leave the grain around the edges of the field.
Same thing when you pick your grapes – leave some.
And here’s why: the poor, the ones not as fortunate as those of you
with land and property
will come and harvest those things you leave.
That’s how you will be holy;
that’s how you will be different from others.
You’ll not only assure the survival of those who are poor,
but you’ll allow them some dignity
in being able to work for that which will sustain them as well.

And then after these harvest instructions,
God continues to tell of other ways to live.
All things that will make God’s people – like God.
Living as they were created – in the image of God.
They’re not to lie, or defraud each other.
They’re to pay fair wages,
they’re not to treat the deaf and the blind
in ways that lead to these being hurt or disregarded.
And they’re to be just in all their dealings
—not slandering, not holding hate in their hearts,
or taking vengeance or bearing a grudge.
In other words,
says God: you shall love your neighbor as you love yourself.

We mostly remember Jesus saying those words—love your neighbor as yourself.
And indeed he said them,
but he said them because he had learned his lessons well as a child—
he knew the scriptures.
He knew that we are supposed to be like God.
And God, is holy,
different, unique, not like the others.

And then there is the Gospel lesson.
This week it’s not too difficult to see
why the preparers of the lectionary
places the Old Testament Lesson and this Gospel Lesson together.
Because here too,
in Matthew 5, we see a call to be holy,
to be different, unique, not like others.

Matthew 5 is a full lesson on how to live—given to us by Jesus.
5 times in this chapter,
he begins a teaching with the words
"You have heard that it was said. . . “
and then goes on to further explain
what something means.

This recurring "you have heard that it was said" phrase
introduces Jesus' commentary on the Law of Moses
and the traditions that had grown up around it.

We too often casually assume that Jesus nullified the law.
Some base their conclusion on theological grounds:
that is, Christ's atoning death
fulfills the righteous requirements of the law.
Others derive a vague impression
from Jesus' responses to the Pharisees.

But Jesus' argument with the Pharisees
is not that the law is less important than they make it;
rather, it is more important than they make it.
For tradition had slowly turned the law
into a mere collection of superficial, legalistic observances.
Jesus always made obedience to God a matter of the heart.
Jesus knew that the law – like the law in Leviticus about
honoring the poor, providing for them,
and loving our neighbors as much as we love and care for ourselves, is a matter of the heart.

The "an eye for an eye" principle,
(which in the Old Testament is found in Exodus 21)
epitomizes for some people
what the Old Testament is:
angry, bloody, and vindictive,
In truth, however, the "eye for an eye" rule
was pretty much the opposite
of that.
It was designed to restrain vengeance;
not institutionalize it.

The harsh reality was and is that revenge is naturally disproportionate.
The desire to "get even" is seldom actually about making things "even."
Rather, revenge is blinded by its own rage,
and so it tries to get more than even.
Revenge double-counts the offense,
calculating in not only the wrong that was done
but also its own hurt and anger.

nd so the intention behind this ridiculed Old Testament Law
was to put a leash on human vengeance,
setting a fair and reasonable limit on punishment:
"an eye for an eye." No more for sure.
And even less, if possible

And for the follower of Christ,
there is an even higher standard to be sought.

In this teaching,
Jesus encourages us not only not to steer clear of revenge,
but also to let go of our quest for what we think is our right.

And that is why,
in this context,
Jesus speaks in this tone of extreme generosity.
Generosity of spirit and magnanimity of love and action:
turning a cheek,
giving a coat as well as a coat.

For some of us,
the challenge of these teachings
is to remove them from the sentiment
that comes from familiarity.

We need to insert personal situations
and specific names into these teachings
in order to see how outrageous they are.

Since I don't have anyone striking me on the cheek,
for example,
I might think instead of that person
whose words were a slap to my ego.

Since I don't have anyone suing me for my coat,
perhaps I should think of that person who is so demanding of my time.

And since no Roman soldier is compelling me to carry his pack,
I should turn to the interruptions
that are part of my day
and the people who seem to have little regard for my schedule.

Once we have translated Christ's teachings
to our daily experience,
then we will see them for what they are: astonishing.

And if we have managed somehow
to make it all the way through this passage with being astonished
then there is a guarantee that we will be shocked
with Jesus’ conclusion.

"Be perfect," he commands, "as your heavenly Father is perfect."

As though telling me to turn my cheek,
give away my cloak,
and love my enemies was not enough,
now Jesus commands me to be perfect.
Perfect like God, no less.
Absurd?
Perhaps.
But it stands right at the heart of scripture.

In the Old Testament,
God unblushingly commands us,
"You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy."

Be perfect, says Jesus,
just like God.

This word perfect need not alarm us.
The Greek word, and sense
is less connected to what our sense of perfection is
than to something else.
We think of flawless or sinless or extreme excellence.
But here’s what the word ‘perfect’ means in this context,
as Jesus tells his followers to be perfect.
This word perfect comes closer to meaning
complete, or realized.
It means living out fully
as God would have us live.
To be holy as God is holy.
To be unique, because our God is unique.
To stand out in such a way
because every action,
every notion and idea
is guided by the spirit of love and regard.

Friends, dare to be like God.
Holy and Perfect. Amen.

Requirements

2011-01-30T08:29:00.000-08:00

One Reader: The New Testament lessons today are from Paul's first letter to the church at Corinth, chapter 1, verses 18--31, and from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 5, verses 1--12. We will read the passages alternatively. Listen for the word of God.

Corinthians: Paul states: For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart."

Matthew: When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him.

Corinthians: Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?

Matthew: Then Jesus began to speak, and taught them, saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."

Corinthians: For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe.

Matthew: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Corinthians: For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.

Matthew: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Corinthians: But to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.

Matthew: Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Corinthians: For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength.

Matthew: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Corinthians: Consider your own call, brothers and sisters; not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.

Matthew: Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

Corinthians: But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.

Matthew: Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Corinthians: God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.

Matthew: Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the children of God.

Corinthians: So that no one might boast in the presence of God.

Matthew: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Corinthians: God is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption.

Matthew: Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.

Corinthians: In order that, as it is written, "Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord."

Matthew: Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What do you think of when you hear the word “fool?”
It’s not a cheerful word is it?

When I hear the words from 1st Corinthians 1
that we listened to this morning interspersed with the beatitudes,
I’m reminded of what Daniel Clendenin wrote.
Dan’s a religious man, a scholar,
a person who “journeys with Jesus” to use his own words.
He remembers years ago,
as a seminarian in a philosophy class
something that one of his professors required the class to do:
to memorize 1 Corinthians 1:18-31.

It was a “clever pastoral reminder,” Dan says.
“Because as we were reading Plato, Aristotle, and Kant,
we were also being reminded that
‘the message of the cross is foolishness
to those who are perishing,
but to us who are being saved it is the power of God…
The foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom,
and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength’”
(1 Cor. 1:18, 25).

Now the professor,
his former student says
would have been the first to affirm the legitimacy,
the pure enjoyment,
and especially the Christian obligation
to study the intellectual riches of the world,
whether in art and architecture,
law and literature,
or astronomy and engineering.
Because he knew of,
and rightly warned his students
of the horrible damage done
when anti-intellectualism
isolated and insulated the church from culture.

That’s true, you know.
It’s a kind of slap in God’s face,
to disregard the gift of intellect
and the love of learning.
After all, they’re all things God loves, created.
And we need look no further than the Apostle Paul
to see that he too believed that
and lived that way.

Paul engaged the cultural elite of his day
in Athens' marketplace of ideas.
Other philosophers of that time sometimes
ridiculed Paul as a "babbler of strange ideas."

Strange ideas, maybe,
but ideas that the Greeks wanted to hear more about
so they invited Paul to come talk with them.

We can read about this in Acts chapter 17.
Paul found meaning in conversing in such a way,
with these life-long learners
who as the bible says,
"spent their time . . .
talking about and listening to the latest ideas.”

Through the course of human history,
humankind has always had the capacity
for awe and wonder,
the ability to enjoy and love
knowledge and beauty:

A Mozart sonata touches the depths of human emotion.

Photos from the Hubble telescope fill us
with astonishment at the power of science
and the scope of the universe.
The fruits of human knowledge are beautiful and true;
there is something good and noble in them.

And there is something else;
something that does not eclipse them,
but shapes them.

It’s a story – a different kind of story.
You see,
what that wise professor of my friend Dan knew,
was that knowledge is a form of power.
And power can be misused.
Despite the greatness of knowledge,
there is a risk in making it
the most important thing.

The early believers in Corinth confessed their faith in a crucified Christ,
a story of divine weakness,
foolishness and poverty.

But they had taken that story,
and turned it into an occasion for boasting about human power,
wisdom, wealth and influence.
Last Sunday we heard the first part of this chapter in 1st Corinthians.
People were saying:
"I follow Paul," "I follow Apollos," "I follow Peter,"
or, in the ultimate attempt at one-up-man-ship,
"I follow Christ."

And so the Corinthian church had fragmented over "boasting"
about various claims of superiority.

“Don’t do that,” says Paul,
sharply rejecting
both religious hierarchies
and valuing individuals by their so-called merit:
their beauty, or knowledge, or ability,
in other words, their power.
The story of a crucified Christ as the "power and wisdom of God,"
was a story that was so repulsive to Jews
and ridiculous to Greeks.
The story of a crucified Christ
pulls down, yanks away every yearning for power.

So how are you doing?
Are you with me?

These New Testament books we call Epistles,
can be challenging to comprehend.
And First Corinthians is no exception.

But here’s where all this talk about foolishness
or weakness
get can become clearer.

We put it all alongside this morning
words that are beloved by many of us,
the words from the Sermon on the Mount – the beatitudes –
and you know what?
Jesus is saying things that are not
all that different from Paul’s message.

It’s common to hear
the Beatitudes today in the 21st Century
as words of beauty and comfort.
And that is good.

But when they were first spoken,
when Jesus said them,
they were not so easy to hear.
“What?” some undoubtedly thought,
or maybe even said to each other.
“What is this guy talking about?”

You see Jesus was creating an alternative world view –
a subversive counter culture
which renounced pride and power.

Jesus says the
poor and the peace makers are the happy ones,
the blessed ones.
Not the rich and the violent.

Jesus’ kingdom resonates with the meek,
the merciful,
and the mournful,
not the mighty.

He welcomes those who hunger for justice,
not those who lust for power.
The way to a "blessed" life,
say Jesus and Paul,
is not that of human wisdom and power,
but of divine weakness and foolishness.

I’m thinking that some of you may know Nancy Smith,
who lives here in Claverack, New York.

Nancy has been receiving some notice in the last months,
some press, because of her civil disobedience.

When I first met Nancy,
we were just two women knitting with a group of women
at the Claverack Library – nearly 2 years ago.

We became friends.
We shared an interest in drinking tea and talking –
Nancy always liked to talk about the meaning of faith,
and all sorts of things.
We became good friends.
At first,
I didn’t quite ‘get it’ – this thing Nancy
did a couple times a year.
She’d make her way to some city
and with a fairly large group of people,
walk to Washington D.C.
They’d stay overnight in churches
or other places, all planned ahead.

“We walk for peace,” she told me,
and while I was impressed, in a way,
as I would be with anyone who walked
10, 15 or even 20miles a day for weeks and weeks.
I still didn’t ‘get it.’

I’m starting to.
Now, because of action that she took
last November at Fort Benning in Georgia,
walking and protesting the School of the Americas,
she is serving a 6 month prison sentence.

Not a surprise; she knew what she was risking
when she walked,
when she crossed the line.

Regardless of what you think of her,
or people like her’s action,
because understandably
there’s a wide range of thought and feeling
among us about that.
Regardless, there’s something about this
most of us probably agree upon:
Nancy is a fool.
How foolish.

The question of course is,
what kind of foolish?

Is she destroying the wisdom of the wise?
Is it God’s foolishness or human?
God’s weakness or human strength?
Oh how confusing it can be.

What does the Lord require of us?
What?

It’s like this,
says God through the prophet Micah:
Do justice,
love kindness,
and walk humbly with your God. Amen.

Sermon

2011-01-23T09:22:00.000-08:00

Texts: Isaiah 9:1-4; Psalm 27:1, 4-9; 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23
Preached: January 23, 2011; 3rd Sunday after the Epiphany; YEAR A
A wise teacher once told a friend of mine,

In each moment,
everything is perfect and complete lacking nothing.

That sounds wishfully true,
or at least very lovely when you hear it,
but as with so many truths in life
it takes practice to make it work for you.
Several years ago, for many summers in a row,
after my children were practically grown,
I would join many of my siblings
and many of my young nieces and nephews
for a week of camping at a beautiful state camp ground
on the shores of Lake Michigan.
People would come and go,
make day trips,
but I stayed the whole week,
overnight – rain or shine.
I looked forward to it especially around this time of year
– anticipating that week in July when I would be
sitting on the beach,
laughing around campfires and eating s’mores,
reading under shady trees,
or knitting in my big outdoors-chair
with a cup of coffee within reach.
And I stayed in a tent –
you know, one of those really nice Coleman tents – a big one.
Awaking in the morning, and falling asleep at night,
I took deep pleasure in the outdoors fragrances
that drifted across my face.

But don’t think for one minute
that I was really getting down to basics.

Far from it,
packing for this week was a major undertaking;
I left little to chance.
There was electricity at the campground,
so I took along many plug in things – like coffee pots
and electric frying pans,
and even a small refrigerator.
And probably 30 batteries accompanied me
to replace those that might wear out
in all sorts of devices– from a little mini-vacuum cleaner
to flashlights in various sizes.
And oh yes, I always brought a fan – in case it would get hot.

I can laugh at myself – and could back then too.
I wasn’t very good at being able to say to myself:
“Everything that I need is here,”
without packing up a quarter of my home.
But I’d like to be able to say that.
Or at least be a bit closer to being able to say that.
I’d like to be able to live knowing,
as that teacher told my friend,
“In each moment,
everything is perfect and complete lacking nothing”

Discovering the truth in statements like this one
takes time
and a degree of faith
that lets such ideas slowly reveal their truth.

It is almost as if one has to bed down with reality for a while
before that inner perfection of the situation is revealed.

I have a sense that at the time Jesus withdrew to the town of Capernaum
after the arrest of John the Baptizer,
it didn’t seem as perfect
and as prophetically inspired
as gospel writer Matthew makes it sound
when he writes about it in this Sunday’s gospel
with his poetic words about seeing great light
after darkness,
and a bright dawn after a shadow of death.
In real time, in Jesus’ world,
Herod was on the war path.
Jesus, his mission and ministry were in peril,
and so he makes a move, he “withdraws”
way from Judea and the people
that he first saw as the ones to influence.
Yet decades later
Matthew can see the perfection
in what seemed at the time to be chaos.

He sees that here, in Capernaum,
Jesus finds the right kind of disciple,
the right kind of audience,
the people who have “been sitting in darkness,”
a darkness caused at least in part
by the Judean exclusivist religion from the South.

Here are people ready to listen, ready to respond.
Ready to repent and change their minds.
It is perfect and complete lacking nothing.
Everything Jesus needs is right here
in the most unexpected place.
Matthew sees
because time has confirmed the providence
that was hidden in the moment of panicky decision
to run away to the North.

Jesus experienced life much the way that we do.

And isn’t this a truth about life?
Crises come.

True, we may not have to experience, as Jesus did,
the arrest and beheading of our cousins
and partners in ministry,
but we know what it is like
to have to act quickly and decisively
when all one has as a guide
is the light of our intellect and the courage of our heart.

There are actually several things I personally like about growing older.
And among those,
I believe my favorite is to be able to look back
on my years and recognize
that what I might have only seen as
survival strategies in times of doubt and worry,
were actually God’s providence and care
all along the way.

It’s how Matthew,
and actually the other gospel writers as well,
are able to shape and share their stories of Jesus.

They know the end of the story
at least part of it,
and that enables them to write about Jesus in the way that they did.

They saw in Jesus,
the one who was able to hand his life back to God,
and live as God’s beloved – a child.
Jesus often called God, “Abba,” which is an Aramaic word
that comes close to the English rendering of
“Daddy,” or “Papa.”

When we have really handed our lives back to God as Jesus did,
then truly everything,
every moment is perfect and complete lacking nothing.

As a great Christian sage Anthony de Mello has put it,
“Enlightenment is complete co-operation
with the inevitable”

When we can look
back at the faithfulness of God
in our messy moments –
we can be just a little less jittery
about the decisions and directions
we must make and take right now.

Jesus who may never have chosen Capernaum
if it weren’t for John’s arrest,
ends up going, as Matthew tell us
throughout Galilee,

teaching in the synagogues
and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom
and curing every disease
and every sickness among the people.

Isn’t that just prophetically perfect?
Could this be true for us too
if we would leave our nets
refuse to let them tangle and twist us,
and simply follow Jesus?

The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all.
Amen.

2011-01-22T18:15:00.000-08:00

. . . it is a beautiful winter. . .

Steel Cut Oats

2011-01-18T09:27:00.001-08:00

A very good friend introduced me to Irish Oatmeal -- steel cut oats cooked very slowly. I am a fan. A big fan.

January

2011-01-14T09:18:00.001-08:00

The longer nights (although the daylight hours ARE growing now), the colder temperatures, the cold wind attempting to reach ones' bones, all make for weight upon the psyche. But with eyes staying open, there are moments of stellar beauty in these winter days.

No Partiality

2011-01-09T09:16:00.000-08:00

I remember being a beginning reader
and having my mother introduce
me to the comics in the newspaper.
We called them “the funnies”
and the astute educator in my mom
recognized that comic strips,
with their short sequence of drawings
provided an excellent context—picture context
for figuring out the few words
in each panel.
And I was thrilled to find
that yes indeed, at a very young age, I could read the newspaper!

But there was a puzzling image
that appeared often in the funnies.

It was a light bulb,
and sometimes,
instead of words,
a light bulb alone appeared
in that little balloon above someone’s head.

I asked about it
and that’s how I learned that cartoonists
liked to use that image to indicate
a “bright idea”
an “aha moment” that’s come upon one of the characters.

We’re in that season
of the church year that designates
its Sundays by the time that has
passed since the “Epiphany.”

In recent years,
you may have heard,
as I have,
people slipping the word “epiphany” into their speech.
Oh, not very often,
but I have heard people mention
that they “had an epiphany.”
And what they mean,
is that they had a kind of “aha” moment.
If they were a cartoon, there would be a light bulb above their head.
They’d gained some sort of insight
that helped with some kind of decision or action.

And so the story from Acts
that we heard today
is a timely passage for this season.

Peter has an epiphany.
If he were a cartoon character,
at some point in his story,
you’d see a light bulb in the balloon above his head.

And today, we also hear about baptism;
the story of Jesus’ baptism is told in every gospel,
and on this first Sunday after the Epiphany,
the lectionary reading gives us one
of those baptism stories – as it does every year.

At first glance,
the text form Acts 10 seems to have little to do
with baptism.
But such is not the case.
Because a baptism has just occurred, as we picked up the reading in verse 34,
a controversial baptism,
the baptism of the Gentile army officer, Cornelius.

As the reading from Acts begins,
Peter is speaking,
having just been called to justify before the early church
why he took it upon himself to baptize this Gentile,
and his family.
Peter was in the hot seat,
and he probably was still having difficulty
explaining to himself,
much less a whole congregation what had happened.
Here he was,
a devout son of Israel,
who had faithfully kept
all the commandments of God ,
particularly the commandments
about keeping kosher – eating the RIGHT food
about not being overly companionable to Gentiles—
to “not our kind.”
And now,
not only had he just come
from the home of a Gentile army officer
with whom he’d shared a meal,
but whom he’d also baptized!
Declared a Christian!

Peter begins his sermon, as we find it here beginning in Acts 34,
by recounting the end of a journey
that he had been on for some time.
He says to his fellow believers,
“I truly understand
that God shows no partiality,
but in every nation anyone who fears God
and does what is right is acceptable.”
No partiality.

That’s where Peter lands,
but he didn’t get there over night.

You see, it is always a journey;
it is a process –
to come to our understandings, our beliefs.
Peter had walked with Jesus,
the true light and peace and hope
that was coming into the world—for everyone.

When I was in seminary,
I remember being very interested in the
different kinds of theologies I read of,
and which professors talked about.
Something called “process theology” particularly intrigued me.
One of the characteristics of process thought
is that everything gets used.
Nothing is wasted.
All of the past is brought forward and
finds a dwelling in any present moment.

To repeat the 29th Psalm, as we did this morning,
is to gather up everyone
who has said it before us
and to give new voice to the visions and beliefs.
By singing or speaking the same words,
we join in something still in process,
still being created.
When we listen to Matthew’s gospel as we did this morning,
Matthew who watched the distance between heaven and earth
bridged by the humility of John and Jesus,
and the boundless love of God
we then bring that potential to our own living.
When we listen to Isaiah consoling
an exiled and fragmented people
with the promise that their suffering
will transform them into
beacons of justice for the entire world,
we come closer to understanding redemption.

And when we listen to Peter,
overcoming his Jewish bias, to reach out to Gentiles,
we can take steps in our faith journeys
and find ourselves compelled to struggle with the ways
in which we do show partiality,
and commit ourselves to
becoming more like God – who does not.
Not one thing that scripture speaks to us is wasted.
Everything we may have once believed,
but do not now, is not wasted.

As we bring these stories,
that is God’s word and the hearing of it forward
into our present moments,
we find ourselves on holy ground,
lost in wonder and gratitude.

The moment is not so much about meanings.
It is about shared hope.
We long for that hope,
in our own lives,
and as members of the world community.
The bright idea of Epiphany
is that even in a seemingly new revelation,
something remains the same.
What remains the same
in every context and every age
is the promise of God who sends a servant
to establish justice without breaking a bruised reed
or quenching a dimly burning wick.
What remains the same
is the voice of the Lord that can do some serious damage
and yet blesses people with peace.

What remains the same is a God
who shows no partiality
even though we often wish it were not so
because we are often
very particular about the company we keep.

And finally the promise
of water and word remains the same
because Jesus is baptized into our flesh
fulfilling all righteousness
so that wherever we might go
and whatever we might forget
there is always a way home to God.

Chrstmas Eve: Dreaming

2010-12-25T08:08:00.000-08:00

He was not sure what he should do.
As tradition and custom would have it,
he had entered into a betrothal,
a time of promise that he, Joseph
and his family had entered into with hers—
this young woman named Mary.
And now she was expecting a baby.
He was not sure what he should do.

He planned to do an honorable, quiet thing
– and call off the promise with no display of anger, disappointment.
No big ordeal.
But then he had a dream.
A dream he heard to be from God.
Fear not, said God, and he took Mary into his life—
they married.

Dreams.
Of what do you dream?

Perhaps you know those vaporous dream images
sometimes recalled in early morning light,
yet quickly disappearing like mist
as you enter full of energy and distraction into your busy day.

Dreams.
For what might we listen?

Mary dreamed too.
She heard remarkable, unimaginable things
about the life within her.
And she decided to take her time,
to say ‘yes’ to waiting.
To let the dream live out its truth.

Dreams.
Unsettling?
Or heralds of serenity?

Olivia Rose had a dream.
She dreamed she was baptized on Christmas Eve.
Olivia heard the stories of God’s love,
heard the mysteries of promised grace,
beyond understanding.
And yet she wisely found
these extraordinary things to be as clear and trouble-free
as lifting one’s face to the water and the light.

Olivia Rose dreamed and hidden in her dream
was the fullness of good news—the gift of Jesus Christ,
that one full of grace and truth.
Immanuel – who came to be God with us.

Olivia and those who love her
all said, “Yes, yes. It is good to see and hear
this sign and seal of water and Spirit,
on this night of all nights.

Dreams.
Of what do you dream?

The stories of Christmas—the stories of Jesus’ nativity
are shot full of dreaming.

• Joseph guided to take Mary – in a dream.
• The Magi,
those wise ones who came from afar,
warned to stay clear of a scheming King Herod – in a dream.
• And Joseph again –
dreaming a dream of escape – to take the child Jesus
and his mother to a place of safety.

Dreams.
Of what will you dream tonight?
Will there be visions of sugar plums dancing in your head?
Or better yet, visions of boxes of food delivered in just days
to those who are hungry?

If Christmas is a time for dreaming,
we do well to consider
the dreams of God.

God who dreams of a time
when wolf and lamb shall lie down together in peace,
and the cow and the bear shall tranquilly graze
while their young ones play.

Oh yes, God dreams of a time when
there shall no longer be walls that divide,
walls built up of differences real or imagined,
and the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of God
as the waters cover the sea.

That’s the dream of Christmas – for you, for me.
That the one who came as a child,
came because God just can’t stand to leave
us wavering on any edge of despair,
cannot stand to leave us helpless
in a world full of sorrow and suspicion.

So come,
one and all,
come to the light and life promised to you and to me,
come as an overwhelming hope pours out itself,
and this one comes as a child and yet a Mighty God.

May our dreams
be heralds of God’s peace. Amen.

2010-12-11T08:34:00.000-08:00

I find a great deal of quiet pleasure in quietly and leisurely decorating my home for the season. I don't rush, things come out slowly and all the while music plays. It is restful and enlivening at the same time.

May your soul be refreshed in any way you can make that happen.

Adam's Day

2010-11-30T14:46:00.000-08:00

Birthdays and cakes and candles.
It is the best!

Anna

2010-11-28T04:01:00.001-08:00

My granddaughter is very charming. And smart. And contented. And loving. And cute. But I'm the grandmother. . .

Taking Time

2010-11-14T09:12:00.001-08:00

This morning at 5:50 I was up and making my last preparations for worship; it's a regular thing, and a time not to dawdle. But the orangey-pink glow coming though my Eastern windows made me stop -- stop to take some time and look out at the new day joyously coming to be.

The Old Dilemma of the New

2010-11-14T09:09:00.000-08:00

Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; Luke 21:5-19

I remember with no small measure of fondness
specific toys from my childhood:
slinkies, crazy ikes,
a funny old toy typewriter with a real ribbon
and a doll with the face much like that of a real infant.
My brothers thought it was ugly; I love it.
But when it came to playing with
my brothers,
and not just next to them,
there was nothing more fun
than a big box of blocks and an empty living room floor.
It was great fun to see that empty space,
just waiting for our next grand fortress to be constructed.
We would begin to build,
using the largest and longest blocks first,
setting up foundations and imagining the towering structure.
After then after awhile,
we would have another masterpiece
for everyone else in the house to admire.
But it never took long of course,
before the thing changed shape – a few blocks at the edges shoved out of place,
and before we knew it,
the whole thing would tumble down.
If the buildings were especially grand,
we would plead with our mother
to let it stay standing in the middle of the room.
Surely, everyone would want to be in awe of it
for the next several days
even the company coming for dinner that night.
But the buildings never stood for long.
Ultimately, not one stone was left upon another.
Some way or another, all would be thrown down.
The same thing happened when
we built sand castles, complete with moats
on the shores of Lake Michigan.
Eventually we’d leave the beach,
knowing that night waves and rains
or even people
would wash them away or crush them.
Not one piece of sand left upon another.

Today we heard Jesus speak of something similar.
Looking at the beautiful temple,
the beautiful house of worship that was
a centerpiece of Jesus’ and his disciples faith
when in Jerusalem,
he said,
“the day is coming when not one stone
will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

And today we also hear great verses from the prophet Isaiah,
God saying, “I am about to create new heavens and a new earth."
The Christian Church likes to talk about things being made new.
We think that by talking about it enough,
maybe we will actually believe it.
We love the psalm that says, "Sing to the Lord a new song!"

These phrases conjure up images of freshness and vitality.
But how we delude ourselves!
I've been around the Church a long time,
and it seems that this is more often the case:
in the Church we generally do not like new things!
When I was in my 30’s,
a parent of 3 young children,
the church in which my then husband and I
were members was a central part of our life.
And in the late 70’s and 80’s,
that church grew so much,
that a whole new sanctuary and other ministry space,
needed to be constructed,
branching off from the old structure.
And the old sanctuary was turned into other very useful
and practical rooms.

Know what I grieved deeply?
The baptismal font.
There was a new one in the new sanctuary,
a beautiful piece, lovely and good
fitting rightly with the new space.

But I felt sorrow
that the font, and the place where our babies had been baptized
was no longer.
That change was difficult – undoubtedly
because of the meaning I’d attached to physical things.

Of course that sadness is completely gone from me now,
and new spaces and fonts with equally rich meaning
have become part of my history and life.

But I like to recall that feeling I had.
I like to remember with empathy
the difficulty with which
we move into new ways of doing things,
believing things,
maybe especially when it comes to our faith.

"All things made new"
is one of the most unsettling
themes in the Christian Church.

A friend of mine once put it well.
He asked,
"Do you know what prevents you
from experiencing God the most?
The biggest obstacle in the way of your experiencing God
is whatever your last experience of God was."

What he meant was that our last experience,
especially if it was wonderful
and refreshing and renewing,
impacts our expectation
that every future experience will have to be much like that.

And not only will it not be,
it could actually invite us to
change our minds about something.

New heavens and a new earth don't seem so great
when we admire the large stones of the huge temples we build around us.
And all of us have some sort of temple
that we admire.
It might be a literal church.
It might be that special place
to which we escape for refuge and respite.
But that temple might also be our own job
or home or family..

Every one of those temples is one day made new, change,
and we usually have very mixed feelings
or downright resistance to those changes.
All of us, no matter how old we are, all of us,
have great buildings around us that will ultimately fall.
We don't like to imagine it.

We certainly don't like to plan for it.
But, ultimately, we know our buildings will fail—
for some reason or another.
Even if we've managed to keep it up in the living room
like my siblings and I did as children,
for several days, we know one day it will be gone.

That's how Jesus reacted
when his disciples were admiring
the grandeur of the great temple in first-century Jerusalem.
But Jesus knew it would one day fall.
We tend to think of that knowledge
as somehow an example of Jesus’
‘knowing everything.’
Perhaps.
But it’s just as likely that Jesus
just knew, as an observant
and spiritually thoughtful person
that this would happen. Eventually.
He could not say for sure when it would be;
but he knew it would be a big event.

It would seem like the end of the world itself.
It would seem like everything his people had ever worked for would be gone.

And Jesus also knew that the temple's destruction
would not mean the end of God's creation;
it would not mean the end of salvation.

So he urged people to bear suffering with hope and patience.
His lesson was that all of us suffer,
and all of us go through destruction and tearing down.
All of us even go through death,

He died himself, but it was not the end.
He was resurrected, and God's creative power began again.

In the Christian church,
we believe that God is actually building a temple
greater than our churches and cathedrals.
God is actually growing the Body of Christ.
And when we ask,
"Where is Jesus Christ today?"
our answer becomes,
"The body of Jesus Christ is actually us!
The Body of Christ is really the church, us,
the community of believers and worshipers and servers!"
When we gather and takes communion,
we touch something greater than the building or structure.
That which is greater is Jesus Christ himself.

It is the same with the other masterpieces of our lives--corporations, families, projects.
The critical elements of those temples
are not the literal stones, but the living stones of relationship.
The people and the relationships are the critical elements.
The Body of Christ.

The fun part of the church
is not first and foremost
sitting around admiring how pretty it looks or how good we feel.
The fun part of church is in building up the body of Christ.
I’m guessing that God enjoys our physical
cathedrals and temples,
churches and projects of whatever sort.
But I believe God loves even more
to build up people and relationships—
the body of Christ.
God loves our learning and our serving,
whether it be raking leaves
or working as an elder or deacon.
God loves our camaraderie and hard work
on something done together
like the 50th Bazaar coming up in less than a week.
God loves the help we offer each other and those in our world and community
whether it be a casserole or a shoulder to lean upon.
All our hugging and crying and laughing.

With all that we do good in life,
God is creating with us;
and God is having fun with us.
God is building us into a living temple,
the Body of Christ.
The literal stones will all be thrown down,
in some way or another,
at some time or another.
The spiritual stones will endure.

Why does the Church exist?
One of the reasons I give
is that the Church is meant to teach us
how to change gracefully.

How to change gracefully.
The classical and nurturing functions of the church
have always been associated
with changes in our human lives—
the inevitable changes that most of us go through.
I mean changes like birth, illness, death.
In direct association with those changes,
the Christian Church provides baptism,
prayers for healing and perhaps the laying on of hands,
a funeral.
The Church pronounces blessing and grace
during those moments of change, painful or joyous.

At our best, then,
the Church will be teaching us
how to change gracefully.
Even the changes in Church itself
can be occasions for our learning grace.

All will be thrown down.
God will be in the change.
God will be providing grace even in that change.
And all things will be made new.
We don't have to wait for the end times.
There can be new life on each day.
The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. AMEN.

Athena

2010-11-06T18:15:00.001-07:00

This is my cat. Her name is Athena. She can't stay away from me and follows me all around the house. We are bonding, bonding, bonding.

Fleeting

2010-11-03T10:32:00.000-07:00

It wasn't even two weeks ago that this yelling yellow tree was just outside my front door. I LOVED it and looked at it whenever I could. Just looked. And now of course, this picture is only a memory. Last night my last hanging baskets of flowers met their maker -- their droopy stems turned olive hued overnight. Time to die.

I'm looking forward to the first snow fall -- fleeting seasons, I love every moment of you!

Adopted into the Body of Christ

2010-10-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

There's a great line in our church's baptism liturgy. In naming things that are the gifts of baptism, this one is promised: "to adopt us into the Body of Christ, the Church."

This past Sunday 7 year old Emma had that promise laid upon her. Recently officially adopted by her two moms, officially gaining an older sister and brother, and now officially a member of Christ's Church. Oh Emma -- no wonder you were bustin' some moves at your adoption/baptism party!

Prayer is the Soul's Sincere Desire

2010-10-24T04:36:00.000-07:00

Luke 18:9-14:
Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
"Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

Martin Luther King, Jr., said
“to be a Christian without prayer
is no more possible than to be alive without breathing.”
That’s one person’s perspective.
And while Jesus never said that,
He, being the Jewish man that he was,
did pray.

And what Jesus did say was
that God knows our prayers
even before we utter them.

That affirmation leads to an obvious question:
if God knows all of that already,
what is the point of prayer?

Well, imagine a couple
that has been married for many years.
In spite of all they have been through together—
or is it because of all they have been through together?—
they love each other still.
But one night, over coffee and dessert,
the husband is obviously disturbed about something.
His wife knows to wait.
It will come out eventually.
And, sure enough, he starts out,
“You know, it occurred to me today
that you never tell me that you love me anymore.”
And his wife responded,
“Oh, you know I love you. Very much.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do I have to say it?”
“Because it makes a difference,” he said.
“I need to hear it
even when I know what you are going to say
before you say it.”

Well, that’s a nice story
about human love, about long term human love,
and I’m not really sure if it applies to human/divine love.
But maybe.

It just could be that even though
God knows our prayers even before we speak them,
we need to offer them anyway.
It makes a difference.
Speaking the words themselves creates tender ties.
Words of love are never unnecessary,
never redundant,
and neither are words of prayer.

And it’s also true that how and what we pray
reveals a significant amount
about our relationship to God and others.
For some, prayer is about bringing our list of needs,
in other words our wants -- to God.

And this is when I’m reminded of something
that the writer C.S. Lewis said,
“prayer is not for the purpose of changing God,
but rather for changing us.”

In other words,
prayer is an action, a practice,
and yes a discipline that brings us closer to God
and one another.
It is instrumental in restoring the image of God in us, men and women.
The image of God in us that is the part
that longs for relationship with the other – in this case God.
And it cannot be nurtured and grown into
something of sustaining power
unless it is attended to regularly.
Not just in times of need.
People wonder why it seems that God does not hear,
does not answer a prayer.

Interesting thing is that those who pray throughout their lives,
and not only as a means to list requests before God,
seldom make that complaint.
Because for them,
prayers are about relationship with God – not primarily
about seeing God taking a particular action.
Prayers are conversations – ones in which
the one praying spends as much time listening as speaking.

In the text we heard today from Luke’s gospel,
the key activity of the two characters,
a Pharisee and a tax collector, is prayer.
The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed:
“God, I thank you that I am not like other people:
thieves, rogues, adulterers,
or even like this tax collector.
I fast twice a week;
I give a tenth of my income.”

Was his prayer answered? Yes.
What did the Pharisee ask of God? Nothing.
Upon whom did the Pharisee
rely for his identity and salvation? Himself.
Who sustained the Pharisee in his life and work? Himself.

So, then, what was his purpose
in going to the Temple
and uttering his reflections to God?

Whatever his purpose,
it does not seem to include an openness
to being formed in God’s image
in relationship to God and neighbor.

And the other one praying that day?

“But the tax collector,
standing far off,
would not even look up to heaven,
but was beating his breast and saying,
‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’”

Was the tax collector’s prayer answered? Yes.
And for what did he pray? Mercy.

The tax collector petitioned God for mercy.
While aware of his brokenness,
the tax collector understood
or at least hoped for understanding
from the vastness of God’s mercy
and came humbly to the Temple to seek God’s grace.

Did he think he could save himself
on his own strength or good works? No.
Instead, he saw the possibility of drawing closer to God.

Note that the Pharisee and the tax collector
pray at a distance from one another,
in part because of the politics of the community,
in part perhaps because of their perception of self.

The Pharisee prays standing by himself
in a section worthy of his role but,
perhaps, also because of his contempt for others.

The tax collector prays standing far off,
again in a space considered deserving of his role,
but also possibly because of contempt for himself.

Whether we distance ourselves from God
and one another because of an over abundance of self,
or whether we are distanced from God
and God’s creation because of lack of self,
we would do well to put ourselves
in positions that delicately develop relationships
with God, others, and God’s creation.

Today it was our joy to witness EmmaRose Sharlene’s baptism.
Today we watched a ‘sermon for the eyes.'
We saw her become Christian
right before our very eyes
and if we were paying attention in thoughtful ways,
this lovely event also reminds us of our own baptisms--for many of us many years ago--reminding us that our lives are a journey.

Like the Pharisee, we can be tempted into self-sufficiency,
forgetting that this is a journey with God and neighbor
in which we are invited to share in the revealing of God’s reign.
Or like the tax collector,
we can separate ourselves
or allow others to separate us from community.
And that’s not good either.

Wherever we are on our journey,
it is God’s love for all creation –
and our response to that love –
that sustains our identity and purpose.

We love, because God first loved us.

May that be our prayer, our whole life long. Amen.

Costumes

2010-10-14T10:48:00.000-07:00

The Halloween costume I made for Adam to wear at age "nearly 2" will fit Anna this year at 19 months. . .go get 'em little Tiger Anna.

Sermon: Why Church? Reason Four: Mentors

2010-10-10T09:27:00.000-07:00

Texts: 2 Timothy 1:1-14; Luke 17: 11-19
Preached: October 10, 2010, 20th Sunday after Pentecost;
YEAR C
The Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack
K.L. Davelaar

Two old church friends crossed paths in a coffee shop one day
and began to catch up on each others’ lives.
Eventually the catching up came
to a subject that each knew was important to the other.

“So How’s Trinity Reformed Church these days?” asked one of the friends.
The other responds, “Oh, we don’t attend there anymore.
We didn’t like the ____.”
And you can fill in the blank.

Perhaps you’ve heard
similar conversations yourself.
That blank can be long enough
to catch a ton of grumblings.
The worship was too contemporary.
The worship was too traditional.
We didn’t connect with our small group.

The youth ministry didn’t do enough events for the kids.
They were always asking for our money.
We just never connected with the new pastor.
Studies and research have shown that the 2 to 3 year time
around a pastoral change in a congregation’s life
is a time of relatively large membership change.
More people leave and more people join than in other times.

And it makes sense.
We analyze our pastors.
I’m reminding myself and you
that more of my life has been spent
as a member of a congregation than a pastor of a congregation
so I’ve certainly been one of the analyzers too.
We love pastors, tolerate them or flat out don’t like them.

The story is old but worth retelling:
There was a man who never seemed willing to wake up for church on Sunday mornings
His wife tried and tried every week,
but he refused to get up. She said,
“Honey, come on. You’re going to be late for church.”

“I don’t care — I don’t want to go,” he mumbled.
“We go through this every Sunday .... Why don’t you want to go?”

“Because I don’t like those people, and I don’t like the pastor.”
She replied, “Honey, get out of bed and get dressed. You are the pastor!”

Frankly, if you don’t like the pastor, get in line.
There are days when many pastors don’t even like themselves.

Joking aside,
the reason there’s such admiration
or dislike for some pastors
is that leadership and mentoring are important to us.

Today’s sermon is the last in a series
of four that have all attempted
to raise up reasons as to why being part of
a worshiping congregation can be good for us.
We’ve talked about community,
and real people, and money matters.
And this sermon today offers a fourth reason why we go to church:
We crave spiritual mentoring.
Well, that’s probably arguable, but let’s say
for the sake of argument that that’s true.

And we’re getting some guidance from the Apostle Paul this morning,
Paul as we find him talking to Timothy in today’s epistle lesson.
Paul was a leader and a shepherd who walked the talk.
In 2 Timothy 1, he’s encouraging Timothy to be a leader.
Paul was deeply connected to Timothy;
he prayed for him,
he remembered the work they’d done together,
he lets Timothy know that Timothy has made
an important impact upon his life.

Paul was Timothy’s pastor,
but Timothy also provided some kind of the same ministry to Paul as well.

If we search the New Testament for pastoral references,
two dominant images emerge:
the shepherd and the servant.
These images stand out more than the teacher
and more than the leader.
And while there are many administrative and organizational tasks
with which any pastor is faced,
a pastor does not shepherd information,
or the budget or her e-mail inbox or even a committee.
The direct object of shepherding and serving
is always the people with whom we’re connected.

Maybe it sounds to you right now,
that this sermon seems to be more directed at me
than you.

I think that’s could be.
In sharing with you today,
some of my hopes and dreams of being a pastor here
at the Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack,
I hope we’ll all be encouraged.

Pastors will always face the challenge
of attending to the urgent over the important.
But spiritual leadership means remembering that people,
not programs, are most important thing on the agenda.

What’s more likely to nurture, produce growth in most people —
information from a pastor or inspiration from that pastor?

That’s what Paul is about here in this passage
from 1st Timothy.
Yes, he is instructing Timothy —
but more than that, he’s calling to his heart.
He’s hoping to reignite his soul.

As you can imagine,
I’ve read countless words written
by both scholarly and insightful individuals
concerning being one
who talks about the things of God,
And today I’m remembering words by
Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, a highly acclaimed teacher.
I heard him say this once on a radio program
to which I was listening:

“Let your listeners remember that there is a meaning beyond absurdity.
Let them be sure that every little deed counts,
that every word has power and that we can do — every one —
our share to redeem the world in spite
of all absurdities and all frustrations and all disappointments.”
“And above all,” he continued,
remember that the meaning of life is to live life
as it if were a work of art.”

I look out at you wonderful people on Sundays
and I interact with you during the week,
I attend meetings with you
and sometimes visit you in your homes or in a hospital room
and while it may surprise you to hear this,
I see you as important and lovely –
like works of art.
Art? You say.
Yes, art.
Everyone has the potential to paint the world beautiful,
and loving and colorful and alive.
Because you see,
the gospel, the good news,
is really about that ALIVENESS.
Jesus’ resurrection
is about the reality that we are all called
to live lives of resurrection,
lives that show and speak the word of compassion
and hope, and goodness,
in spite of the absurdity of it all!

We know that darkness and pain,
disappointment and wrenching sorrow,
sometimes overwhelms us in our own lives,
and just as poignantly in the world we see around us.

When I’m listening to a preacher,
what I want to hear is that word of hope.
That word that inspires me again,
to know that death is not the last word,
and God sent Jesus the Christ
for that very reason.
The very word of God became flesh,
lived among us, was like us a human being,
and that is amazingly good news!
And God sent this man Jesus into the world,
not to condemn the world,
but that the world might be saved through him.

I think that one of the most important
things that we can be doing throughout our Christian lives,
is to keep our hearts and minds open
to the ways that the world is, or can be saved.

You see, this loving word from Jesus,
the one about not condemning the world
that we find in the 3rd chapter of John’s gospel
does not spell out exactly the way that the world is saved.

Christian theologies have been developed
and put forth in the last 2 thousand years
that sometimes sound like
“this (or that) is the only way
to understand God’s great work of salvation.”

But the older I get,
the more I’ve come to believe
that if we are indeed God’s works of art,
God’s beautiful creation,
there is more beauty, more understanding,
more life yet to be born.
And now back to 1st Timothy.
In this chapter, we also hear the words
that are most challenging to those of us
who proclaim God’s good news.
Paul says to Timothy:
“Follow me as I follow Christ.”
Paul isn’t just teaching about the Christian life;
he models it.
Puts flesh on it. Puts his feet and hands where his words have gone.

What a risky thing to say!
Follow me.

And to be honest,
I don’t believe that I’ve yet have earned the right to say it.

Even though I know that people
want to look to their pastors as people to emulate,
as a pastor I am still simply a vulnerable human being,
filled with foibles and failures
just like everyone else.

I can, and likely will, disappoint.
I will fall, and I will fail.

I’ve been an ordained pastor for 18 years now.
And there is in this work,
as in others,
a pretty steady pressure to be excellent,
because the church’ work is vital.
But if there is anything that I’ve continued to learn,
and this is a lesson not just for pastors,
but for all of us Christians,
little Christs, as that word means,
it is that being is fully as,
if not more important that doing in this life.
What does that mean?
It means among other things,
that when we run into an acquaintance at the famers’ market let’s say,
whom we know will want some attention from us,
and yet we’re in a hurry,
we’ll calm down enough to be with that individual,
even if for just 2 minutes.
It means that each small deed, each kind word,
each helping gesture,
allows us to be Christ to each other.

When we look at the gospels,
and consider Jesus’ life,
it’s clear that he did things,
but look how often he just was present with people.
Talking to a man who sought him out in the dark of night.
Talking with a woman at a well in Samaria.
Telling stores.
Taking children in his arms and playing with them,
even when that seemed to others that that might be a bother.

When I get drawn into what can sometimes be
the hubbub of congregational life,
its’ really good for me to pause
and pray again over Jesus’ life.
To remember his great capacity to just be with people.
That’s good for all of us to try to do.

I have things to learn yet about being a pastor,
and being a pastor here – in this lovely place.

And while it is good for congregations to
offer some respect to their pastors
for the sake of the office they hold,
it’s equally true,
that pedestals belong under plants,
not pastors.
Why Church?
Well there are lots of reasons.
May God grant us the encouragement to listen and learn,
for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Singing Siblings

2010-10-04T08:48:00.000-07:00

We sang a song at my mom's funeral; she would have been very pleased. Some of the people in this photo sing rather well; some perhaps not so much -- but we can all carry a tune and we harmonize magnificently. Thanks for teaching us how to sing Mom!

In Memory

2010-09-25T06:18:00.000-07:00

My mother died -- a rather slow death of Alzheimer's Disease. For me, for any of us, it only happens once: our mother dies.

My mom is deep in my soul looking exactly like she does in this picture -- holding one year old me. Smiling at my father, who is taking the picture, loving holding her little girl, slim and attractive without being overly fussy about her appearance. Oh Mom, you loved and raised me well!

Knitting Projects

2010-09-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

A very good friend, who lives far away, and I were *talking* about knitting the other day. I say talking with double asterisks to point out that it wasn't face to face or even ear to ear talking; thank you e-mail!

We both love to knit, and of course, at various times in our lives have more time/energy to devote to this great hand work. My friend is in one of her knitting times and was commenting that she was starting to build up a stash.

For those you who may not know knitlingo, a stash is that sometimes humongous gathering of yarn that knitters accumulate because when they were shopping, or even just thinking about shopping, ALL SORTS of creative ideas came to their heart and mind.

I have a stash; I also almost always have a number of part-way-finished projects. I love living this way.

And so it begins. ..

2010-09-08T07:59:00.000-07:00

I was talking with a friend recently, whose life has contained none of the 'churchiness" that mine has. I commented upon how busier things were getting for me now at work, and it was kind of energizing to have things starting up again.
"Really?" he said, in all seriousness. "I would think that Christmas would be your busy time." I assured him that that too, was an energizing time, as well as Lent and Easter. Even though he's Jewish, he gets it that those times-in-the-church-year are full and meaning in the Church, and therefore busy ones for ministers and priests.

But what certainly is true within American Christianity, at least in this era, is the added business in this season: the season immediately after summer while entering fall. In this way, the church is imitating the academic world -- and starting up after a summer break. (Which in itself is something to ponder.)

This coming Sunday, at our church, we'll experience that beginning business again; Sunday School has its first Sunday of operation; families with children will reappear; and the music program will begin to gear up for worship. This congregation is fortunate to have beautiful and serviceable buildings in which to conduct its life together. The 45 year old heating system in the building on the right has gone kaput. So the congregation has been considering again, over the spring and summer months as to how to fix that -- and fixing is in the works, of course at a cost. And that is always one of the constant stresses and challenges for any congreation -- keeping the property in shape.

But Sunday, when it all begins, we'll be grateful to be here, telling about God's goodness, opening the door, welcoming everyone who comes.

Canning Peaches

2010-09-03T21:58:00.000-07:00

My mother and grandmother canned practically everything when I was young. It was hot, messy work -- food for the winter. When I had children at home, I canned too. My daughters now wanted to learn. So a few weeks ago we canned peaches

Open Seating

2010-08-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

Ps. 81:1, 10-16; Luke 14:1, 7-14

So which situation do you prefer?
Entering a banquet room after picking up
your place card from a table near the entrance,
so that you can assuredly head toward
your assigned table,
OR
Entering a banquet room
filled with countless
options for seating,
with all of them open to you?
Perhaps you’re thinking,
“well it depends upon the situation,”
and I’m sure that it does.

But let’s face it,
there is some comfort
in knowing that “there will be a designated place”
for you when you enter a room.

And if you’re attending
an event with “open seating”
you can feel at least
a slight discomfort
about with whom
you’re going to end up sitting.
We’re social creatures,
and the dynamics of nearness
and space matter.
I don’t know all the reasons why many,
not all, but many of you,
who attend worship here almost
every Sunday,
tend to sit in nearly the same place
from week to week,
but I think it has something
to do with familiarity and the safety that comes with that.
If I were to shut my eyes,
and if you were to name a regular worshiper,
I’ll bet I could point to the direction
that person is sitting
with at least 80% accuracy.

Let’s try it. . .

Now a word
to those of you who may be visiting with us
this morning:
Please know that
despite what I just said,
there is indeed open seating
in this sanctuary;
and the place you’re seated
is exactly where you’re supposed to be!

This morning
the gospel reading
has something to say about seating.
There are two stories in this passage – the one that describes a happening in Jesus’ life,
and the story, the parable that Jesus tells during his experience.

Jesus is being watched,
we hear as the first story begins,
but clearly Jesus is doing
some watching himself.
In fact, in reading the gospel accounts,
we clearly get the impression
that not much happened
around Jesus that he
didn’t notice.
He noticed whatever it was that was happening;
he noticed its significance.

I like Jesus’ parable,
better than the one I’m about to tell,
but here’s another one

It’s a story that some of you will have
an easier time relating to that others.
It’s about a coach.
But it’s a true story.
Coach Shug Jordan at Auburn University
asked his former Linebacker Mike Kollin,
who was then playing for the Miami Dolphins,
if he would help his alma mater do some recruiting

Mike said, "Sure, coach. What kind of player are you looking for?"
The coach said,
"Well Mike, you know there's that guy,
you knock him down, he just stays down?"

Mike said, "We don't want him, do we, coach?"
"No, that's right” responded Shug.
Then there's that guy,
you knock him down and he gets up,
you knock him down again and he stays down."

Mike said, "We don't want him either do we coach?"
Coach said, "No, but Mike, there's a fellow,
you knock him down, he gets up.
Knock him down, he gets up.
Knock him down, he gets up.
Knock him down, he gets up."
Mike said, "That's the guy we want isn't it, coach?"
The coach answered, "No, Mike, we don't want him either.
I want you to find the guy who's knocking everybody down.

That's the guy we want."

Well, that coach, and his former player
were in the process of finding who they wanted with them.

And even if it’s
not a big tough
burly football
player that we want to be seen with,
there are certainly those with whom
we do want to be seen.

And often what they have in common
with that football player,
is that they’re successful,
they’re confident,
they do, whatever they do, well.
We want to invite them to sit with us,
and we want to be invited to sit with them.
Let’s look further,
at Luke 14.
After a worship service,
Jesus attends a dinner at man’s house
who is known throughout the community
as an upstanding leader in his faith community.

As Jesus arrives he is being watched.
He has stirred up controversy before;
might he do something to
raise suspicion here at this dinner?
Not wishing to disappoint
the private eyes,
he posses a question,
“Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?”
No one said a word.

You may recall that in the previous chapter,
which you heard last Sunday,
Jesus has already answered that question.
It is lawful to heal on the Sabbath
because wholeness and shalom and healing are more important than rules.

But, Jesus wants to press the issue once again.
So at this dinner party he singles out a man,
sitting right in front of him,
who is suffering from dropsy
and heals him on the spot.

It is interesting to note that neither this man
nor the bent over woman, from last week’s reading, asked to be healed.

The point here is not primarily the healing;
the point is that wholeness and goodness take precedence over rules.
But just as the guests are mutely wondering what to say to Jesus,
the mood shifts,
dinner is served, and it is time to grab a seat.

You would think Jesus might have left well enough alone,
but he just can’t help it.
Noticing the mad scramble to grab certain seats
he launches into a parable.
This particular parable
doesn’t take too much
work to figure out.

When you are invited to a wedding, Jesus says,
and it comes time for dinner, don’t take the places of honor.
Otherwise someone more important
will arrive late
and you will be asked to move down.
Take a seat at the end of the table
and the host will move you up.
And in that way you will be honored before all.

I like the mythical story historians tell
about the funeral of Charlemagne.
Charlemagne was the greatest
Christian ruler of the early Middle Ages.
After his death
a mighty funeral procession
left his castle for the cathedral at Aix. (Ex)
When the royal casket arrived,
with a lot of pomp and circumstance,
it was met by the local bishop,
who barred the cathedral door.

"Who comes?" the Bishop asked, as was the custom.
"Charlemagne, Lord and King of the Holy Roman Empire,"
proclaimed the Emperor's proud herald.

"Him I know not," the Bishop replied.
"Who comes?"
The herald, a bit shaken, replied,
"Charles the Great, a good and honest man of the earth."

"Him I know not," the Bishop said again.
"Who comes?"
The herald, now opening his heart, soul and mind
responded,
"Charles, a lowly sinner,
who begs the gift of Christ."

To which the Bishop,
Christ's representative, responded,
"Enter! Receive Christ's gift of life!"

Even Charlemagne in all his glory and good works
could not assume a position of honor.

I am convinced that the more honor is due us
the more we should resist it.

Does that mean we
shouldn’t be proud of our accomplishments.
Not at all.

But we should not seek
the accolades that come with success.

They is no substitute for a job well done,
other that the satisfaction of just doing it.

But back to
the passage:
Jesus has advice for the guests;
he also has advice for the man hosting the party.
Don’t throw dinner parties for your friends,
your family,
and rich neighbors
because they will invite you to their table
and you will have your reward;
rather, Jesus says, throw dinner parties
for the poor and lame.
They will not be able to pay you back.
You will be paid back at the time of the resurrection.
What is Jesus’ point?
Is he saying we are not to throw parties for friends?

Again I’d say no.
But the deeper meaning here is this:
Kindness to people who can repay us in kind
is not that notable.
I do for you
and then you owe me
and I’ll collect later
can not be regarded as lavish hospitality.

Pleasing God means helping those
who have absolutely no way of paying us back.
It means an openness to whoever comes,
and even especially inviting those who cannot repay.
Mother Teresa was once asked,
"How do you measure the success of your work?"
She thought about the question
and gave her interviewer a puzzled look, and said,
"I don't remember that the Lord
ever spoke of success.
He spoke only of faithfulness in love.
This is the only success that really counts."

I think Mother Teresa
would point to this story in Luke
to explain her response.

Those who are Christians,
follow Jesus Christ,
which means we sit with Christ,
at a table that became for him
a place where
he gave fully,
expecting nothing in return.

He did not choose a throne but a cross.
What is your choice?
The places of honor at Jesus’ table
are seats open to every poor sinner
willing to humble themselves
next to Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Thank you for that

2010-08-27T07:41:00.000-07:00

My three year old grandson wears hearing aids -- like I do. Since he got his last fall, he's always been very interested in mine and we often compare them. Adam and I also know enough to look directly at each other when we talk. When I was saying good bye to him after a visit a few days ago, I said, "Even though I don't see you every day, I think of you every day, and I say thank you to God that I have such a wonderful grandson." He looked at me with big round eyes and said, "Thank you for that."

Housing Works

2010-08-17T19:11:00.001-07:00

I spent a day and a half in NYC with a good friend who introduced me to Housing Works -- an organization that has found creative and life sustaining ways to provide tools for healthy living for people living with HIV and AIDS. Part of the way funding is provided is through a number of thrift shops throughout the city. What a great way to spend an afternoon -- finding those very well run thrift shops.

Living inside Your Hope

2010-08-15T08:28:00.001-07:00

Sermon: Living Inside Your Hope
Texts: Hebrews 11:29-12:2; Luke 12:49-56
Preached: August 15, 2010, 12th Sunday after Pentecost; YEAR C
The Reformed Dutch Church of Claverack
K.L. Davelaar

The aid workers who were killed in Afghanistan last week
have been much in my mind,
as they have perhaps also been in yours.
I grieve for the sadness of this loss,
for what it will mean for their families, friends
and those they would and could have helped.

Although those working for IAD
have specifically denied being missionaries,
it seems clear that their faith strengthened them for their work.

I’ve been wondering, for myself,
and again, maybe you have been too,
does their sacrifice cause a challenge as well as a grief?
Do their actions cause us to ask ourselves
what risks we’ve taken lately in the name of Christ?

And then, as I opened
the lectionary readings for this week,
I was jolted by the words of both the Epistle
and Jesus’ words in the gospel.
Every time I’m tempted
to think of the bible as an old old book only
dealing with the past,
something like this happens.

And that’s when I’m heartened again at the living word that the bible is,
always intermingling with our lives and the happenings in the world
to help us hear God’s word.

Did you listen to Jesus’ words in the gospel of Luke this morning?
Not easy to hear.
These are pretty stark and conflictual sayings
and they sit rather poorly with our contemporary
images of God.
Our culture seems to prize a God
with an infinite capacity for empathy,
a God who is "nice."
Bumper stickers tell you that "Jesus loves you"
even if everyone else thinks you’re an ogre or worse.

And then here is Luke, challenging this thinking.
What’s that about anyway?
What made Luke remember that Jesus said things like this?
It could well be that things weren’t going so well
in Luke’s world when he was writing these words.
We know that Christians often didn’t have an easy time of
it in those first centuries.
Neither did a lot of other people.

So in reminding us of what Jesus came saying,
Luke gives us a glimpse
of redemption for a world that is anything but nice,
and that needs much more than a nice God to redeem it.
As he journeys toward Jerusalem,
as he is as we come to Luke chapter 12,
Jesus becomes a source of
conflict and opposition
when he lays claim to startling forms of authority and power.
His words are marked with a sense of urgency
and anguished intensity.
The road to Jerusalem,
after all, leads to a violent confrontation with death.
No wonder that Jesus’ experience of life comes to be one
of "consuming fire" (cf. Heb. 12:29).
Giving a broader picture,
if not contradicting the angels’ promise
of peace on earth at his birth,
Jesus emphatically denies that he’s come to bring peace.
Instead, he claims to be the bearer of discord and fragmentation:
"I came to bring fire to the earth."
And "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth?
No, I tell you, but rather division!"
And then he goes on to illustrate this claim
by defying traditional systems of meaning and unity
especially family and intergenerational ties.
And if we think that family ties are strong now,
in Jesus’ culture they absolutely defined life.
How can this be good news?
The answer depends on how we see the world we live in,
with its systems of collective meaning and value.

If our world were nothing but a place of created goodness
and profound beauty,
a space of flourishing for all,
just and life-giving for all in God’s creation,
then Jesus’ challenge would be deeply troubling.
If, on the other hand,
our world is deeply marred and scarred,
death-dealing for many life forms,
with systems of meaning that are exploitative and nonsustainable,
then redemption can come
only when those systems are
shattered and consumed by fire.
Life cannot (re-) emerge without confrontation.
This is the basis of the conflict Jesus envisions.
He comes not to disturb a nice world
but to shatter the disturbing and
death-dealing systems of meaning that stifle life.

A woman named Lisa Fithian
seems to understand Jesus’ call to embody crisis.
Fithian is a grassroots activist
in the global peace-oriented movement for social justice.

She has been arrested 30 times for intentionally creating crises.
In an interview last year, Fithian explained:
"When people ask me, ‘What do you do?,’
I say I create crisis, because crisis is that edge
where change is possible."

I confess that I don’t have anywhere
near the bravery, and I guess I could say conviction
that Lisa Fithian has, but I wonder:
Is this not what Jesus meant
when he spoke of bringing fire to the earth?
Did he not seek to bring crisis
as "that edge where change is possible"?
Was he saying, I have come to bring crisis
because business as usual means injustice and death?

Having said all these things,
it becomes very very important that we go further.
We cannot just leave this passage
with the knowledge that,
well, bad things are going to happen
and conflict will exist; Jesus says so.
Because you see,
the vision embedded in Jesus’ stark words
is not one of conflict for conflict’s sake,
but one of fragmentation for the sake of a wholeness,
brokenness for the sake of redemption.

Someone who came to understand the latter was Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Many of you know the name of Bonhoeffer,
but for those of you who don’t,
he was a German Christian pastor and scholar
who wrote and spoke out against the wrongs
of Nazism in the 1940’s.

He died a martyrs death
but not before he wrote a great many things
that have sustained Christians for over 60 years
and which continue to challenge
to live inside our hope.
As Bonhoeffer struggled to live
through the challenges of his own life faithfully,
he wrote from his prison cell in 1944
that he saw his life "split . . . into fragments,
Like bombs falling on houses."
The violence of an inhumane war
that he witnessed had shattered any sense of wholeness in his life.
Yet out of this painful experience came a profound insight:
He wrote, ‘This very fragmentariness may,
in fact, point toward a fulfillment
beyond the limits of human achievement. . . .
The important thing today,’ he went on,
‘ is that we should be able to discern
from the fragment of our life
how the whole was arranged and planned. . . .
For really, there are some fragments
that are only worth throwing into the dustbin . . .
and others whose importance lasts for centuries,
because their completion
can only be a matter for God,
and so they are fragments that must be fragments.’

And there is the good news, my friends.
Despite the deaths of humanitarian workers,
and the deaths of thousands of innocents around the world,
despite the misuse of creation
and the dignity denied countless hundreds,
despite all that and more,
there will be things that only God can put back together.
We cannot expect to do it all ourselves.
Oh we’d like to,
we’d like to be able to fix the world
and fix ourselves quickly.

But what we can do instead is to live inside our hope.
That means to not give up because
as the book of Hebrews tells us,
we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses.

So many faithful people have gone before us,
live even now,
and will continue to in the future.
This cloud of witnesses are those,
who have shown in ways large and small,
that faithfulness means giving it all, in the end to God.

Friends,
live inside your hope.

The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

It's Starting

2010-08-07T11:39:00.001-07:00

Whereas a week ago no sunlight played on the floor, today it does as it comes in through a southernly exposed window of my home. Nice little 'pre-fall' feel to the room. I like it.

Crowned

2010-08-04T06:58:00.001-07:00

What are human beings that you are mindful of them or mortals that you care for them? You have made them for a little while lower than the angels; you have crowned them with glory and honor. . . Hebrews 2:6b,7

The top of my 3 year old grandson's head is a sight to behold. He crowned with glory and honor all right.

No Words Necessary

2010-08-03T05:14:00.000-07:00

Gifts

2010-07-30T10:57:00.000-07:00

I have recently returned from a trip to the hometown of my adulthood. It is a place I visit with great joy and reconnection to dear, dear people. And even though I am also eager to return to my present home, a place of rest and meaningful work, I always leave looking forward to my next visit.

Several years ago when I left this town, I also left a ministry colleague with whom there was and always will be a deep connection. . .we went through very significant life changes and calling changes together. And the gift that he gave me, upon my leaving, lo these 3years ago, was the following poem -- a gift written about and for me. Rarely have I been so moved. I took it out again this week, and decided to share this personal writing more broadly.

Candle

the temporary river
finds its path,
then slows,
pools,
rests into memory
of its source.

words flicker from her,
warm and dancing,
laughing and winking,
glowing and illuminating;

word made flesh,
dwelling among us
with grace and love –
dwelling with me,
together –
a river flows,
it ends, it remains.

such a river
cannot be told
its shape –
the beauty is in the path
found and changing,
free and flowing,
and then enough,
and the beauty beholding

such a word cannot be spoken –
only lived, received.
the air that feeds the flame
is the spirit that gives me voice:
gratitude, gratitude –
this is the warmth,
the reflection
that abides.

the flame dances –
the river flows –
a word yet to be spoken. . .

Motivation

2010-07-16T08:02:00.000-07:00

I read this today:

Middle-aged women who are overweight may have yet another motivation to take off those excess pounds: The more a postmenopausal woman weighs, the worse her memory, researchers have found.

What's more, the negative impact on memory was more pronounced in "pear-shaped" women who carry excess weight around their hips, and less of a factor in "apple-shaped" women who carry it around their waists, the study authors noted.

Well, THAT should motivate me. . .but if it doesn't, at least I'm more an apple than a pear ;)

Ready to Run

2010-07-13T05:47:00.001-07:00

When these little guys found the presence of seed husks and even a few errant seeds under the bird feeder they were happy little camplers, digging and scratching and munching away. And then they saw me seeing them. They went into all alert stance and soon wobbled their way away.

Free Country

2010-07-09T12:36:00.000-07:00

There's a phrase used by people who are so called "under attack" with which I usually don't have much patience. It's this: "Hey, last I checked, it was a free country!" People use it to defend any number of actions that often are merely selfish undertakings for their own fleeting or long lasting pleasure. Well, MrFamousBasketballPlayer, LeBron James has not used that phrase to the best of my knowledge. But I'd like to use it for him!

I find it humorous more than dismaying that there are cries of "he's hurt (or even ruined) his own legacy" or that this is the "worst conceived marketing stunt." Who writes this stuff? And then there's his own "old coach" who says that James' decision to play for the Miami Heat rather than continue with the Cleveland Cavaliers was an act of "cowardly betrayal."

I think to myself, "how can people really care that much about this!!??" But then I realize that not only are there undoubtedly things that I care about to that degree that someone else would find incredible, but also that decisions and questions and disappointments always have layer upon layer of meaning(s) attached to, embedded, within them.

So, yes, it's a free country. But please, please, don't anyone tell my 3 year old grandson that LeBron James is a bad person, ok? He loves LeBron for all good reasons. He insists on playing the "part" of LeBron when he shoots hoops with anyone who will with him. And he's wise and sensible in all his innocence. Why he'll even "be" LeBron while wearing a Duke headband.

Gingerbread House Chapel

2010-07-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

Well, it's not really made of gingerbread, but that's what I thought when I first saw the Grace Memorial Chapel up in Hague NY on Lake George. My friend Jerry finally got me, this past weekend to agree to come preach on Sunday. And since he promised I didn't have to preach a nationalistic sermon, it seemed like a good weekend to go up, enjoy the day with friends, and the sparkling beauty of Lake George. AND there was good music -- a string quartet to listen to at an equally charming chapel on Sunday evening. Nice. . .

Elena

2010-06-30T07:58:00.001-07:00

What's not to like about Elena Kagan? She seems wise and funny, expressive and honest. If I think it has ever been difficult to "pass the muster" to become the minister in any given congregation, that was nothing compared to what she and others before her have had to go through.

Gift

2010-06-22T04:40:00.000-07:00

I remember the lead pastor at the church at which I was a student minister saying, "Congregations change pastors just as much if not more than pastors change congregations." How true.

Since moving to the eastern part of the country from the state shaped like a mitten, I have been in a lot of transition. One of those transitions has been the movement from churches (not all churches in Michigan are like this, but the ones I served most recently were) that highly value the classical in worship music along with world music (Iona, Taize, South American, African) AND use such music with a high level of skill and accomplishment, to churches that are faithful and gifted in other ways, but not in those. Yes, it's been a transition, and I am happy for it.

But of course, I'm not always happy for it. And then this gift came.

We were visited on Sunday morning by two people from NYC who were visiting their daughter in the area. Their daughter is not a member, but (I'll call them) Patrice and Bob had visited our church before; they love the architecture and oldness of the sanctuary. In the city, Bob is an architect and Patrice is a professional musician -- a vocalist. There, they also are members of a highly admired congregation that again, greatly values the classical in worship style and music. And they love their church with its gifted and famous preacher.

After worship they sought me out. They were effusive in their appreciation for worship that morning. Patrice talked about the purity of the movement and spirit in worship. She was highly complimentary of me -- voice, delivery, honesty, love -- I was grateful and somewhat in awe of her outpouring of words. She said many things, including this: "I thought, 'how gracious of her,' she is such a good reader and yet she lets someone, a young person, read one of the scriptures, and she doesn't coach them, but just lets them read, even in a halting and feeble way."

Patrice and Bob opened my heart and eyes further to what is worship pleasing in God's sight. We can come with all of our 'bulls and rams' and 'perfect praise,' our high festivals, and that can be good. But what matters most is worshiping in spirit and in truth. What a gift.

Strawberry Yogurt Shake

2010-06-18T18:33:00.000-07:00

This was my supper tonight -- a seasonal drink and a handful of peanuts. Yum.

Hydration

2010-06-14T09:56:00.001-07:00

We've had a lot of rain lately. Some of my potted plants have practically drowned. But the fuchsia -- the fuchsia adores the rain and plumps itself into piercing color because of it.

How Much Forgiveness Can You Tolerate?

2010-06-13T09:08:00.000-07:00

1 Kings 21:1-21a
21:1 Later the following events took place: Naboth the Jezreelite had a vineyard in Jezreel, beside the palace of King Ahab of Samaria.

21:2 And Ahab said to Naboth, "Give me your vineyard, so that I may have it for a vegetable garden, because it is near my house; I will give you a better vineyard for it; or, if it seems good to you, I will give you its value in money."

21:3 But Naboth said to Ahab, "The LORD forbid that I should give you my ancestral inheritance."

21:4 Ahab went home resentful and sullen because of what Naboth the Jezreelite had said to him; for he had said, "I will not give you my ancestral inheritance." He lay down on his bed, turned away his face, and would not eat.

21:5 His wife Jezebel came to him and said, "Why are you so depressed that you will not eat?"

21:6 He said to her, "Because I spoke to Naboth the Jezreelite and said to him, 'Give me your vineyard for money; or else, if you prefer, I will give you another vineyard for it'; but he answered, 'I will not give you my vineyard.'"

21:7 His wife Jezebel said to him, "Do you now govern Israel? Get up, eat some food, and be cheerful; I will give you the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite."

21:8 So she wrote letters in Ahab's name and sealed them with his seal; she sent the letters to the elders and the nobles who lived with Naboth in his city.

21:9 She wrote in the letters, "Proclaim a fast, and seat Naboth at the head of the assembly;

21:10 seat two scoundrels opposite him, and have them bring a charge against him, saying, 'You have cursed God and the king.' Then take him out, and stone him to death."

21:11 The men of his city, the elders and the nobles who lived in his city, did as Jezebel had sent word to them. Just as it was written in the letters that she had sent to them,

21:12 they proclaimed a fast and seated Naboth at the head of the assembly.

21:13 The two scoundrels came in and sat opposite him; and the scoundrels brought a charge against Naboth, in the presence of the people, saying, "Naboth cursed God and the king." So they took him outside the city, and stoned him to death.

21:14 Then they sent to Jezebel, saying, "Naboth has been stoned; he is dead."

21:15 As soon as Jezebel heard that Naboth had been stoned and was dead, Jezebel said to Ahab, "Go, take possession of the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite, which he refused to give you for money; for Naboth is not alive, but dead."

21:16 As soon as Ahab heard that Naboth was dead, Ahab set out to go down to the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite, to take possession of it.

21:17 Then the word of the LORD came to Elijah the Tishbite, saying:

21:18 Go down to meet King Ahab of Israel, who rules in Samaria; he is now in the vineyard of Naboth, where he has gone to take possession.

21:19 You shall say to him, "Thus says the LORD: Have you killed, and also taken possession?" You shall say to him, "Thus says the LORD: In the place where dogs licked up the blood of Naboth, dogs will also lick up your blood."

21:20 Ahab said to Elijah, "Have you found me, O my enemy?" He answered, "I have found you. Because you have sold yourself to do what is evil in the sight of the LORD,

21:21 I will bring disaster on you.

Luke 7:36-50
7:36 One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee's house and took his place at the table.

7:37 And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment.

7:38 She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.

7:39 Now when the Pharisee who had invited him saw it, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him--that she is a sinner."

7:40 Jesus spoke up and said to him, "Simon, I have something to say to you." "Teacher," he replied, "Speak."

7:41 "A certain creditor had two debtors; one owed five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.

7:42 When they could not pay, he canceled the debts for both of them. Now which of them will love him more?"

7:43 Simon answered, "I suppose the one for whom he canceled the greater debt." And Jesus said to him, "You have judged rightly."

7:44 Then turning toward the woman, he said to Simon, "Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

7:45 You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet.

7:46 You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment.

7:47 Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."

7:48 Then he said to her, "Your sins are forgiven."

7:49 But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, "Who is this who even forgives sins?"

7:50 And he said to the woman, "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."

Have you ever been given a time-delayed message about yourself? What I mean is, has it ever dawned upon you later, after the fact, what someone’s comment may have meant?
It could happen this way: You’re at a gathering, let’s say, a party, and at some point you make a critical remark to one of your friends about someone else who is at the party. At the moment, you don’t realize that the comment reveals more about yourself than about that other guest, but your friend does. And instead of the response you expected from your friend, your friend says something a little ironic or teasing, and it leaves you wondering if your friend really heard you. You feel a momentary discomfort at not having been understood, but you toss it off, and decide to go to the food table again and enjoy the rest of the evening. Later, though as you’re driving home, your friend’s words return to you with meaning and impact. Suddenly you see yourself through your friend’s eyes; and what you see is painful to look at.

Maybe something like that happened to Simon the Pharisee who had thrown a party and invited Jesus. Maybe something like that happened to Simon in the wee hours of the morning after the departure of his last dinner guest. Maybe then, all of a sudden, Jesus’ story, told to him specifically took on another level of meaning.

That fact that Jesus was among his guests in the first place, reflects Simon’s self-image as a liberal Pharisee an open minded guy who was not afraid to invite guests others might have found unacceptable. Yet the sight of an emotional woman of questionable character washing Jesus’ feet with her unbound hair proves too much for him. “How can this man be honorable” Simon wonders to himself, “let alone a prophet and allow such a woman to interact with him in that way?” So when Jesus addressed his host with a hypothetical question about two debtors, it may not have been immediately obvious that Jesus had been reading Simon’s thoughts.

Jesus’ story is about two debtors. One owed 500 and the other 50 denarii. That may look like a sizeable difference on the surface, but in truth, at least in Jesus’ day, the difference in the amount made little difference. Both were serious debts with the same legal ramifications: the probable enslavement of the debtor and perhaps even members of his family. And so forgiveness of either amount would have meant deliverance from a really bad outcome. Just imagine what it was like for Simon when the message of Jesus’ story sunk in, whenever it did. "What?! – What was Jesus saying? That there is no difference between that woman and me? That can’t be—how can I, I who have tried diligently and largely succeeded in living an upright life be no less in need of forgiveness than a common sinner, like that woman?" But of course that was what Jesus was saying . The message was that there was no difference between Simon and that woman when it came to the need to recognize one’s brokenness. Both were forgiven things small and large—both depended on forgiveness, whether they were aware of it or not.

And that likely names what was an important difference between them: The woman who bathed Jesus’ feet with her tears, was aware of her need. She had apparently felt understood by Jesus’ preaching and forgiveness, and that made her very grateful.
Simon, on the other hand, was probably like a lot of people: pretty sure he really wasn’t a sinner—at least not a big one. And this difference made a difference. Because the woman was aware of being forgiven much, she was able to love much, to love God and those who needed her forgiveness.

How much forgiveness can you tolerate? I don’t mean forgiveness that you dole out or watch others accept, I mean, how much forgiveness can you stand to receive? What does it feel like when you apologize to someone, and instead of hearing, "Oh, that’s alright," you hear, "I forgive you."

In my life as a pastor and preacher, I’ve often been challenged with how to talk about sin and the need for confession and forgiveness. Sometimes those who have been raised in ethical and religious environments, in which right and wrong are clearly defined, come to know well God’s forgiveness and live in its peace. Yet others have been so beaten over the head with the belief in sin and wrong that they never quite are able to believe God’s grace. Yes, it’s a tricky thing of which spiritual leaders speak—sin – the individual’s as well as the sin we engage in together—corporate sin.

Simon’s religion had taught him well, and that was why he related effortlessly at least on the surface to Jesus’ example, in the parable. But like any number of us, this familiarity with sin and forgiveness, as expressed by religious morality blocked an awareness of an even deeper and more pervasive need – for forgiveness.

Children depend on parents to forgive them not only for misbehavior, but also for growing into and becoming individuals who inevitably frustrate cherished expectations – of their parents. And parents depend on children to forgive them, and to eventually grow up and take responsibility for themselves. Spouses depend on each other to forgive them for not always being able to love them the way they need to be loved. But beyond even these, is the forgiveness we depend on, deeply depend on, in order to live fully. For the sins or debts, (to use the image from Jesus’ story) are the ones from which it is the most difficult to free ourselves,
and those the most difficult to see, because they are rooted in our character. Maybe we’re often short tempered or impatient. Or quick to be critical. Perhaps it’s laziness—spiritual or physical,that not only hurts us, but others. Maybe our character is such that we’re arrogant and filled with self-importance, or a view of personal righteousness. It is far easier to see sin as things others do, or don’t do, than to recognize that we need to be made aware of our own thoughts and attitudes in order to confess them.

As we all know, much continues to be written and said about the catastrophic happenings of many days duration now, in the Gulf of Mexico. This past week I was reading something that a man named Steve Thorngate, an editor for the magazine The Christian Century wrote: While BP and the federal government plug away at trying to plug the oil leak, the rest of us feel pretty helpless. What’s a citizen’s response to this sort of disaster? What’s a Christian response? There’s a lot of talk about organizing against BP, and I agree that some strong punitive measure is in order. But ‘The relevant question is not whether you own a copy of Atlas Shrugged; it's whether you own an automobile.’ (Dave Allen) Or fly in airplanes, buy things made of plastic and/or transported from far away, eat factory-farmed food or burn paraffin candles. While business and government must be held accountable for their reckless behavior, we’re all complicit in our culture’s addiction to oil.
On most Sunday mornings, we pray a prayer of confession when we are here at worship. And I believe it’s important often to have room for silence in that prayer. What do you use that time for? I have to admit myself, that sometimes it’s kind of blank spot in my mind. It’s surely acceptable for people to use that time in different ways. But it might be less helpful to use that time as an attempted cataloging of one’s errors of the past week, than to use that time for the silence that it is, and listen for God’s voice. You might be amazed at the ways God shows us our sin, and just as quickly God’s great love and forgiveness. We all, all the time, need to be forgiven – and God stands ready to. There is a big difference between a person who moves through life walking in a shameful cloud of despair, and one who knows he or she is forgiven.

And there’s a big difference between a person who has no idea as to the evil and havoc his or her sin wreaks on others, and one who knows forgiveness. Witness King Ahab. He didn’t have a clue. No self awareness there. In his eyes, it was the prophet Elijah, not him,who was the enemy. Fortunate are those who can tolerate awareness of how much they are forgiven.

How much can you tolerate? It will make a difference in how you live. Amen.

This Boy

2010-06-10T04:44:00.000-07:00

My grandson, the adorable carrot-top, is thrilled beyond measure in this picture because his Aunt Kate brought him a DUKE headband and wrist bands. Such 3-year old pleasure. Would that all of us could be so pleased with little gifts!

Lunch with Ladies

2010-06-03T03:48:00.001-07:00

They brought the food -- way too much of it -- but we had a fine time. Very fine.
And I was gifted with some Haiku from 90 year old Alice. Thank you Alice!

Birch trees growing outside
Remind me of Robert Frost
Lost in the snow

The road less traveled
Has lots of rocks and ruts
I'll take the highway

Five white petals now
Soon you will see in their place
Bright red strawberries

Up in Thatcher Park
Out on the overlook trail
I found a golf ball

Oh pine cones, pine cones
I pick them up clean the lawn
Pine cones fall again

Evening Prayers

2010-05-31T05:35:00.000-07:00

On late spring, turning into early summer evenings, I sit on my back deck. It is pure and clean and wonderful to look out at the woods. I don't have very near neighbors so the sounds are those of birds and small creatures (chipmunks can be very noisy little animals). I read or knit, sip some wine, or just sit. It is a prayerful and blessed time for me. I am very, very grateful.

2010-05-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

It is 8:30 pm on this lovely late May day/night and it is already pretty dark outside. In western Michigan, I might still be able to mow my lawn. But tomorrow morning when the first light plays on my eyelids (before the sun actually rises) I might peak at the clock and see that it is only 4 something!

Pentecost 2010

2010-05-23T11:01:00.000-07:00

Today, with great thanksgiving,we’ve had the joy of hearing the public professions of faith of 4 of our young people. What a wonderful thing. They have been nurtured and loved by their parents and families and Sunday School teachers and church.
They’ve heard God’s stories and of God’s love and grace, particularly given to us through Jesus Christ. And today Jameson, and Kaitlyn, Amara and Abigail
are telling us that these stories are ones they are claiming as not only theirs’
but also that they are intentionally joining their own lives, their own stories
to God’s big story.

Stories are great; they shape and move us. Being able to tell a story well is a wonderful gift. My mother was a great story teller. She told us many kinds of stories, and often the stories my mother told or read to us were Bible stories. One of my brothers’ and sisters’ and my favorites,as told by my mother, was the story of the Tower of Babel—the one we heard from Genesis chapter 11 today.
Because this is how she told it:

"Remember the story of Noah that we just read about? Well Noah’s sons, Shem, Ham, and Japheth all grew up and had families of their own—many sons and daughters, and when those children grew up they married and had children and so on and so on.
Very soon there were many, many people living on the earth again. But a big difference between the people who live today and those people who were descendents of Noah, was that they all spoke the same language.
Everyone understood everyone else. As the number of people continued to grow they traveled until they came to a plain in the land of Shinar.

'This looks like a wonderful place to live,' they said. It’s green and beautiful here—there is water for us and for our animals.” So there the people built their homes. But soon, they wanted more; they wanted to be famous. 'Come,' they said, 'let us make a name for ourselves, let’s build a city with a tower, a tall tower, with its top in the heavens.' They wanted to stay in one place; they wanted to always be able to find their way back, to always stay together, and not be scattered over the whole earth.

And so a great many workers gathered together to work. Happily, and busily they began their work together. They shouted and called to one another.
One worker would call, 'Please bring me some more bricks. I need some for this corner.' And another would shout, 'I’m ready for another bucket of mortar.' With all this hustle and bustle it was a very noisy place. And as they kept on building, the tower became higher and higher. They were very pleased.

Now the LORD came down to see the city. And God saw that the people had begun to build this great tower, and that now they would likely stop at nothing that they might want to do. God did not want them to stay in one city,all huddled together.
God wanted them to spread over the big world that had been created for them.
Now you remember that all these people spoke the same language. But it was not going to stay that way. Without the people knowing it, God changed their speech,
and they soon found out that they could no longer understand each other.

When one worker called out, 'Bring me some bricks,' he was speaking a language
that no one in all the world had ever heard before.'Bring me some bricks, please,'
he said again, but the man he spoke to looked at him in astonishment,
'What did you say?' he asked,because to him, it sounded like the first worker had said. Bonga ah ah deeba slah kaka foosha lappa.

Although they tried again and again, neither of them could understand the other.
Then the first worker called to yet another and said,'Hey, come here, something is the matter with this guy. I have asked him ever so many times to bring me some bricks, and he answers something I cannot understand at all. Will you bring them to me please.' But the next man only stared at him. 'What did you say?' he asked. 'I can’t understand you.' And this man also, without realizing it, was speaking yet another language.

So this is how they sounded to each other. Ach trein de liede schoenk, bitte.And . . . Nnng, tinka boek r pama?

They shouted and called.
Feeta feeta ramda colla!

Boopa loopa simpy da da!

They tried so hard to make each other understand. But it was no use. The louder they called, the less they understood each other. There was only noise and confusion.

And so, they had to stop building the tower and the city. And since they could no longer understand each other, it seemed there was nothing that made them need to stay together either.

So they separated, and they all went to live in different places with their families. They were scattered over the earth, just as God wanted them to be. The name of that tower was Babel.And even today, when we hear a great confusion of noise,
we call it a babel."

That’s how my mother told the story. We laughed in the hearing of it. It was funny to our child-ears to hear those odd sounding words, that she put into the story.
And of course, I’ll never forget the story.

Today is Pentecost Sunday and a passage from Genesis and the Book of Acts are wonderful to set side by side today.God confusing tongue and speech in one passage,
and in the other, enabling people to hear or speak in different languages, and understand. Both stories remind us of the great treasure there is in hearing and und understanding. The builders of the Tower of Babel perhaps were not even aware of that treasure until it was taken away from them. And for those gathered in Jerusalem
on that 50th day after the Passover, there seems to be a treasured astonishment
in a surprising discovery: “how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language?”

Maybe it was something like this. It was as if people would be sitting in our sanctuary who spoke no English. And while our English speaking service was going on,
the sound system would crackle and pop, it would hum and buzz. But instead of that being just annoying noise, it would be God’s Holy Spirit. Not bringing interference.
Not bringing interruption. But bringing instead the message in Spanish and Dutch,
Italian and Mandarin, Hindi and Swahili. So that all who were sitting in this place would hear the message in his or her own language. The great gift of Pentecost is that of hearing. We cannot hear the word of God unless God’s Spirit opens our ears to hear. Sometimes it is not a different language, but stubbornness or indifference of spirit and heart that makes it difficult to hear the Gospel.

Maya Angelou writes this: "In my twenties in San Francisco, I became a sophisticate and an acting agnostic. It wasn’t that I stopped believing in God; it’s just that God didn’t seem to be around the neighborhoods I frequented. One day my voice teacher asked me to read a passage from a book. . . a section which ended with these words:“God loves me.” He said, 'Read it again.' After about the 7th repetition I began to sense that there might be truth in the statement, that there was a possibility that God really did love me. Me. Maya Angelou. I suddenly began to cry at the grandness of it all. I knew that if God loved me, then I could do wonderful things, I could try great things, learn anything, achieve anything.
For what could stand against me and God?" (Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now)

The gift of Pentecost—for Maya Angelou. That God loved her.
By God’s Holy Spirit there are no barriers of language or indifference or hardness of heart which can silence the Gospel.
We hear it, each one of us, in the language which cuts through our deafness.

And it also enables us to hear the cry of the human heart. A man, a man of popular stardom and acclaim tells of visiting a Bihiri refugee camp in Bangladesh.
He says that the first morning there he must have washed his hands a dozen times.
He didn’t want to touch anything, least of all the people. Everyone was covered with sores and scabs. “I was bending down to one little guy,” he says, “mainly for the photographer’s benefit, and trying hard not to have too close a contact.
Just then, someone accidentally stepped on the child’s fingers. He screamed and as a reflex I reached for him, and picked him up,forgetting his dirt and sores. I remember that warm little body clinging to me and the crying instantly stopping.
In that moment I knew I had much to learn about practical Christian loving, but at least I’d started.”

The gift of Pentecost—the gift to hear the cry of the human heart,no matter the language in which it is spoken. It is the Spirit that lets us hear. Hearing that we are not alone. And that we’re not on our own.
We’re not on our own to build towers as indication our own greatness. We’re not on our own.

Praise to you, O Holy Spirit.
Let us pray. . .
Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
With all thy quickening powers;
Come, shed abroad a Savior’s love,
And that shall kindle ours. Amen.

A Sermon for Mother's Day

2010-05-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

Psalm 131
O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.
O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time on and forevermore.

John 14:23-29
Jesus answered him, "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.
Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.
"I have said these things to you while I am still with you.
But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
You heard me say to you, 'I am going away, and I am coming to you.' If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.

Once upon a time there was a mother who was going on a trip. Her suitcase was packed,
her car had been gassed up, and her children were happily playing in the living room; it was now time for her to say goodbye to them.

Just before she heads for the door, she turns to look at them one more time. And one of them looks up at her. He notices she’s about to leave. “Where are you going?” the child asks.

“I’m going to get a place ready for you,” she says, “and if I do that, then I can come back and take you to be with me.”

“Can we go with you now?” the other child asks.
“You can’t come where I’m going.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“In a little while, you’re not going to be able to see me, and then again after some time, you’ll see me again.”

“Who will take care of us?” one of the children wonder.

“Oh I’ve already checked with someone about that, and he’s going to make sure you have someone else, a helper who will protect you, and really be with you forever,” the mother responds.

You’re ahead of this story by now and recognize who the characters are in this metaphorical family. Jesus is the mother, bags packed, ready to take the next stage of the trip through this world and beyond; and the children are the disciples.
In fact, in the story form John 14, Jesus calls them “little children.”

If you can see Jesus as the mother in this scene and the disciples as the children playing on the floor as she leaves, then it is probably not too much to think of the Holy Spirit as the caregiver, the nanny, the loving babysitter who will watch over us while Jesus is away making the preparations he promised. Many Christians, for centuries have been waiting patiently for his return. The thing is the ‘little while’ Jesus promised became a long while. A long while became a lifetime. Ten years turned into a hundred years, then five hundred years, then a thousand, and another.
The question the child asked playing on the floor watching his mother leave,“Who will take care of us,” is also the question that many in the church who’ve looked for the return of Christ have asked through the years, “Who will take care of us?”

When Jesus told his closest followers that he was going away, as we’ve just read about in John’s gospel, it’s not difficult to imagine what was going through the disciples’ hearts and minds: What do you mean you're going away? You just rose from the grave! We just got used to you popping in and out of rooms, sneaking up beside us on the road, cooking breakfast on the beach. Why would you leave us … again?
Where are you going? And why do you say we can't come with you? For them, the taste and touch of resurrection, new sight, new life, new everything pervades the senses.
And now, further loss is at hand? The old familiar state of longing intensifies,in direct proportion to the thrill of resurrection awareness.

This is exactly like the response that people have often felt after a connection with God, or touching the holy. People young and old, experience something very non-everyday on retreat, or at camp, on a mission trip,or at a particularly meaningful
time of worship, or in a light-filled occasion with others or alone. There’s a feeling of heightened well-being. THIS is what it’s like to know God,
to experience God’s love, they’re sure of it. But that knowledge is dislodged after a time. Because when that feeling goes away, as feelings always do, the temptation is to feel abandoned. Abandoned by God. God 'went away', or so it seems.

An acquaintance, she’s more of an acquaintance than a friend, sent me a message this past week. A message on facebook, so she is a friend in some sense. She was having some trouble with God and religion, she said, would it be alright if she talked to me? And since she lives nearly 700 miles away,of course she meant on-line.
Jean, I’ll call her Jean, had been having trouble, she said, since her father died about 2 years ago. And then she talked about losing a job, and believing she had heard God encourage her to go back to school to pursue her dream career and so she did, but no job had come after completing her course work. She felt sad and rejected, even embarrassed she said, but most of all furious with God,because after all, she’d been obedient, she thought, doing what God had told her to do.
She felt abandoned. Unequivocally, absolutely, abandoned by God. God, had 'gone away.' Perhaps you know the feeling; perhaps you know someone who has. It is not unusual to feel left alone; it is not unusual to be afraid and wonder what has gone wrong; it is not unusual to believe that somehow God has left. Those are feelings;and God’s presence does not depend on our feelings.

And Jesus knew that feeling too. He was made like unto us in every way, scriptures says, except he didn’t sin. And so Jesus was attempting to prepare his friends for,
to lessen the feeling of being forsaken. Jesus knew he was soon to leave them so he told them about the one who would come to help them in the form –an “Advocate” he said. The Greek word for advocate is the word, paraclete, it means, to 'call alongside'. I once heard someone say, in trying to explain what a paraclete is that this is the one you call when you are thrown in jail for false charges. The paraclete is the one you call when a school bully is about to beat you up or do you other harm. A paraclete comes to your rescue, your defense, and your comfort.

Jesus was being like the mother who left the house and her children while they played peacefully on the floor.

I wonder if it was difficult for Jesus to leave them like that. I’m not sure. Just when things were beginning to go right, Jesus felt the tug to leave, and it was important that he break the cycle of their dependency that kept them from doing all that Jesus needed them to do in the world. If he stayed, surely they would have continued letting him do the important stuff. But Jesus understood that unless he left,they wouldn’t do what needed to be done. So he left them. And on the way out,
he spoke to them about the advocate, the nanny, the caregiver who would come in his place to watch over them.

Did you hear the Psalmist’s words today? Psalm 131 is a wonderful Mother’s Day psalm.
The psalmist speaks his reality and compares himself to a child, a young child who is simply resting, not squirming, not thinking about anything too complicated at all.

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me.

Yes, resting is this child who is the psalm writer. And where is this child resting?
Listen:

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; my soul is like the weaned child that is with me.

Such a lovely image, an older, resting, calm child.
A weaned child. Because an infant is restless and searching on his or her mother’s lap, hungry and needy. But a weaned child? A weaned child rests and is calm.
And that is what the writer feels like on God’s lap.

Friends, there is a God,who is ours, who invites us to that calmness as well.
Let us hope in the Lord from this time on and forevermore. Amen.

Dancing into Spirit Time

2010-05-15T10:38:00.000-07:00

Today is the loveliest of days! Sunny, no humidity and temperatures in the 60's. I could have this for almost every day. In 8 short days it will be Pentecost -- one of my favorite days on the church year calendar. It's time to dance -- with the wind and the Spirt and thank God for all things good.

Scrubbing Streets

2010-05-08T20:48:00.000-07:00

Here are some good looking street scrubbers -- making the way clean. The tall ones are my children: Kate, Joe, and Sarah. The short ones are my grandchildren Anna and Adam and my daughter in law Allison is holding Anna's hand.

Isle of Marken

2010-05-01T14:08:00.000-07:00

There's a little girl in Holland, Michigan wearing this costume around town these days. There are several different kinds of costumes -- especially for girls/women to be had/made for Tulip Time. This one, hand made my her grandma, is modeled from the old-time wear of people who were from the Isle of Marken.

Sermon

2010-04-25T20:36:00.001-07:00

This morning’s sermon is about children. Oh how we love our children, don’t we? We practically would do anything for them. I remember those days of raising children, and now it’s my turn to watch with pride and joy my children doing the same thing.
For those raised on bible verses, there is one that perhaps pops into mind when considering the raising of children. While newer translations offer different words than these, many people remember Proverbs 13:24 in the old King James version. It goes like this: "Spare the rod and spoil the child." This proverb has been spoken for many centuries to justify hitting or slapping children into submission. I’ve heard people say, "The trouble with kids today is that their parents don't whip them enough. You know what the bible says, `Spare the rod, spoil the child.'" Fortunately, many parents, Christian and others, have been led to understand, that regardless of what the bible seems to say, it is not good to hit children. And yet, for some folks, this bible verse remains a familiar justification for the rights of adults to hit a child with force.

We know that the way of Christ is the way of peace, and yet children been yelled at and hit against the wall with a parent yelling, "I want some peace in this house."

Is the ancient biblical proverb license for beating children? Were the parents of ancient Israel strict disciplinarians who hit their children to teach them to obey? From all we can know from the culture, Israel was ahead of its time in valuing human life, and children were treasured. They were the source of well-being in old age. They were the future generation. They were hope for the tribal people of Israel. The metaphor in the bible of parent-child is a way of talking about the relationship between God and Israel. God, and God’s children.

And yet there’s that verse: “Spare the rod and spoil the child.” When you hear the word from this passage of "rod," what do you think of? But what happens - what happens to our understanding when we learn that the rod in this Proverb is the same kind of rod and staff that comfort in Psalm 23?

"Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Hm
WhoEVER would be comforted with an object by which he or she was beaten? Here’s the truth about shepherd’s tools: The rod and staff that a shepherd used, were indeed for comforting the sheep. They are for caring and protecting, for guiding and nudging, but never for beating . A good shepherd delights in his flock. The shepherd will go to whatever lengths necessary to provide the finest grazing,the rich pastures and clean water. The shepherd will do whatever is necessary to provide shelter from the storms and protection from enemies and diseases.

Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd gives his life for his sheep." This Good Shepherd's rod and staff comfort the sheep. The rod is thrown out on a path to startle the sheep, warning them that they are in danger of wandering into an unsafe place. The shepherd uses the rod to drive off coyotes and wolves. Sheep often get themselves into ridiculous dilemmas. So too, children are in need of shepherding like sheep so that they don't stray off into paths that will hurt them or destroy them. Parents who love their children guide their sons and daughters, giving them a safe place to live and to grow in trust, and that gives them well being because they know that they are cared for .To love a child is to set limits.
Anything-goes parenting is as damaging to our children's spirit as the opposite extreme of anything doesn't-go parenting.

Do you remember watching “Westerns” on television as a kid? I did; here’s what I rmember from them. Often, it seemed cowboys caught a wild horse, and the horse was seen as a creature whose spirit had to be broken before it could be useful as a cow pony. An untamed horse was dangerous, not to be approached by anyone but the traditional bronco buster. The method of breaking a wild horse was to tie him down in the chute of a corral so that a saddle could then be put on him. Then the bronco buster climbed on the pony's back and the chute gate opened. Released from his ropes, the shocked creature could then take off into the corral, bucking furiously. The process was repeated over and over again until finally the horse no longer bucked. When the animal's spirit had been broken, it was ready to take its place among the other cow ponies on the ranch. Is this the only way? Is this the only way to discipline our children and to train them? Many Native American tribes have seen the horse not as a wild beast to be subdued, but as a fellow creature and kindred spirit worthy of respect and consideration Instead of a hard-riding bronco buster, a young man was given the task of making friends with the pony. Every day he would bring food and water and spend time talking to the animal. In time, the pony became accustomed to visits from this two-legged creature and allowed the Indian to touch and stroke its body. Over time, its fear dissipated until one day the young man knew that he could now put an arm around the pony's neck. Later he would put one leg over his back and finally when the man slid his body onto the pony without bit or saddle, the training period was over. There was no bucking ever. Horse and rider moved out of the corral and no one’s spirit was broken.

I wonder if there is anything to learn here, about how we treat our children, as well as how we treat each other? Wisely mature parents recognizes the child as a kindred spirit, worthy of respect and consideration. They care for the child with good food and spend time listening to the child.

Which way is the way of Christ? Which way is the way of Christ, the Prince of Peace? A society that respects children, that celebrates children, that teaches and guides them along the path of peace, this is the one that I want to live in, don't you? I can tell you that our children certainly want to live in that kind of society.

There is a women's singing group, Sweet Honey in the Rock, that has a song called "No Mirrors in My Nana's House." One of the singers explained how this song was created. One of her friends was telling her about growing up in a very poor neighborhood, and she grew up in her grandmother's house and she said, "You know, in my nana's house there were no mirrors."

The song writer asked her, "How did you know what you looked like?" "Well," she said, "my nana told me. Every morning I would get up and get dressed and comb my hair, and then I would go to nana and I would say, `How do I look?' And she would tell me. She would tell me I was beautiful. She said my skin was smooth and golden brown, kissed by the sun, and she said my eyes shone like silver moonbeams. In my nana's house, there were no mirrors, so I saw myself through my nana's eyes who loved me and the beauty of everything was in her eyes."

Would that all the children of the world had adults who mirrored love and beauty to them like that nana. What kind of a world would we live in then? Wouldn't it be one in which God's will had been done on earth as it is in heaven?

The Lord is our shepherd – guiding us, leading us, feeding us, so that we grow strong and know we are loved. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. The grace of Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen.

Quiet

2010-04-21T08:17:00.000-07:00

There are moments of sanctuary quiet that shout.

What's in a Word?

2010-04-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

I was having lunch this past week with a parishioner who got me thinking hard with the question she raised. She had been talking to someone who had talked to someone who had heard that one needed to be 'voted in' to join our church. My lunch companion, who has served as an elder, said that when she heard that, she first adamantly refuted that comment about needing to be 'voted in.' She didn't like the sound of it, she said. "And then," she continued, "I realized that that's what we do when we all say 'aye' to accepting particular new members when we meet with them! I don't like that."

It made me think, like I said, hard. We get used to, over the years, following certain practices and procedures that we've been doing for years, or even decades (how 'bout centuries.) And in this case, it isn't the practice that is questionable perhaps, as much as the word used -- vote.

At lunch, we figured out another way of explaining how one becomes an official member of our church. It goes something like this: In the spirit of welcoming with great joy, the leaders (elected elders) of the congregation meet with you and are given the opportunity to verbally express how glad they are that you've chosen to become part of our congregation." Much better, don't you think?

For me, this awareness is very important. You may never hear the word 'vote' come out of my mouth ever again when speaking of these things. I was, after all the person from whom someone had 'heard' that one needed to be 'voted in.' I'm pretty sure that was not my exact phrase, but obviously it was close enough to that to sound like it.

Here's to 'verbally expressing gladness!'

Dutch Boy

2010-04-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

My grandson's costume is finished -- his curls are too beautiful to cover with a cap, but he'll wear one at Tulip Time.

Tulips Wide Open

2010-04-03T13:31:00.000-07:00

This lovely plant was a gift from some guests -- and when I first received it -- only a week ago -- those blooms were tightly pressed together in that well-known tulip shape. And they are just as lovely today -- petals wide open.

Remains of the Day

2010-03-28T09:04:00.000-07:00

Sermon

If you have ever been to a baby’s first birthday party,you’ve probably seen the gift-wrap phenomenon:the baby plays with the wrapping paper as much, if not more, than the new toy. On Palm Sunday, many of us, myself included, love the palm we receive –we weave it, fold it, hold it –and it’s really easy to think that this is point of the day: to get our palm for the year.

And yet, the palm is really only the wrapping, so to speak, of this Sunday. The real point of this day is that, with palm in hand to honor the Lord as did some children of Jerusalem so long ago, we begin the journey of THIS week with the Lord through his Paschal Mystery it’s called, that is his Passion, death, and resurrection.
When we gathered for worship this morning; as the children came forward to process today remember what we said?

We said:“Christ entered in triumph into his own city, to complete his work as our Messiah to suffer, to die, and to rise again. Let us follow him with lively faith.”
That’s the point of this Sunday, that we follow Christ with lively faith into the mystery of his death and resurrection.

The enthusiasm of our procession with palms led us in a matter of minutes to hear of the “Suffering Servant”in the book of Philippians, who humbled himself to death, death on a cross,and we hear the story of God giving God’s own self for our salvation. Anyone who spends enough time with children of a certain age knows that human beings are deeply inculcated with a sense of how "it's supposed (usually pronounced 'spozed') to be." The way it’s ‘spozed’ to be is that life is fair, and that actions have consequences. We figure out how it's 'spozed to be' and, I think, mostly try to run our lives that way. But more often than we’d like, fairness seems to fly away from our lives, or the lives of those we care for, and we wonder why there seem to be people who don’t have to pay the consequences it seems they should be. This can all be terribly disorienting.

Today we enter Holy Week, which I think could rightly be called the most disorienting time of the year. We start with several sets of strongly held belief as to how things are supposed to be. During that first Holy Week in Jerusalem, centuries ago, crowds of pilgrims were celebrating the Passover – the feast of God's liberating God's people from foreign masters. These crowds are convinced that God is supposed to liberate Israel from the oppressive rule of Rome. Oh yes, Rome would be difficult to overthrow, but God's people have always found their victory in their God's might, not in the might of armies.

And the Roman rulers had their own ideas of how it was supposed to be. By conventional wisdom if they ruled,then their gods must be mightier than the gods of the conquered. Or perhaps the gods of the conquered had actually switched their allegiance to Rome. No doubt part of the emperor's agenda in having a bull sacrificed daily on his behalf at the Temple in Jerusalem to the God of Israel, which history tells us was happening, was to suggest that – that Israel’s God was now on the side of Rome. And once that could be established and who was in charge was clear, how it was supposed to be was that the conquered rendered taxes and tribute and support to the social order – the peace of Rome made sure by the rule of Rome.

Some of Jesus' disciples were developing ideas of how it was supposed to be too. Jesus spoke often enough of God bringing a decisive change, of God's kingdom breaking through the way things were. Jesus' actions said the same thing, perhaps even more insistently – "if by the finger of God that I cast out demons," Jesus said, "then the kingdom of God is among you," we read in Luke 11:20. Jesus' words and behavior must have suggested to his followers that he anticipated a decisive moment in Jerusalem.

Would this be, some may have thought, when Jesus would finally stop speaking in those ambiguous parables,and accepting those invitations to dinner, and talking about cheek-turning and praying for persecutors,and would he finally take charge in the way some expected from a person as powerful as he? Would this be when Jesus stepped up to lead Israel in such a way that the nation would no longer be
the suffering servant described in Isaiah 50, hoping for vindication but subjected to humiliation, and would instead lead a confrontation and humiliate Israel's adversaries? Jesus does act decisively on what we call Palm Sunday, but not in the way expected. Indeed, if anything, Jesus' behavior mocks expectations for a conquering general or lord. What if, Jesus and those around him were actually being more playful than we have imagined this story to indicate? He rides into Jerusalem not on an impressively outfitted white charger, but on a hastily borrowed colt. He wears no gleaming armor -- just traveling robes. He leads no great army, no defeated captives, no chests with spoils of war; he leads only his motley assortment of followers. It's a grand parody of an imperial parade, and despite the warnings of some Pharisees who know that Pontius Pilate is not known for his enjoyment of political humor at his own expense, the crowd joins in. Jesus will be breaking more rules as this decisive week progresses. Luke, as gospel writer, has Jesus, play acting a Roman triumphal procession go directly to the Temple, where he engages in an all-too-serious demonstration against the Temple hierarchy, calling them "robbers." Is it any wonder that Jesus loses a lot of supporters from the crowd after that; most have come to Jerusalem to participate in the very sacrifices that Jesus would prevent by driving the money-changers and the dove-sellers out of the Temple. And is it any wonder, that those in charge found this man Jesus very dangerous. And if we know Jesus at all, we know that he did not come to reassure people for whom the status quo worked perfectly well and that they had nothing to fear as long as they continued to follow the rules.

Jesus' way involves something that religious people on an individual level call 'conversion,' and that rulers looking at their subjects call 'revolution.' Jesus' way calls on women and slaves and sons – people whose will would normally, according to the rules, be subject to that of the family patriarch – to make decisions for themselves. Should I marry, and if so, whom should I marry? No mention is made in any New Testament text that women or men need consider binding -- or consider at all – the arranged betrothals that would have customarily been made by the family elders. Or consider this question, typical of that day: Should I remain to care for my parents and see that they get an honorable burial, or should I leave the village to follow Jesus? Just asking the question would be shocking in the first-century Mediterranean world, and remembering that Jesus called upon people to ask it offers a fairly clear explanation as to why Jesus received the opposition, persecution, and death that he got.

That is especially true because Jesus' way asks even harder things of those in power, the family leaders and the social elite. Jesus’ way asks not only to be willing to laugh at a society's ways of displaying wealth, status, and power, as Jesus did in his skit of a triumphal parade; Jesus’ way asks -- asks us who are among the privileged – to imitate his example as laid out in the early Christian hymn Paul quoted in Philippians 2. It exhorts us to use power not to our own advantage but to empower those who have none.

It is no easy thing to be a follower of Jesus. It takes a lively faith willing to change course, to be converted, from an old way of thinking and acting to a new one. Jesus' overturning expectations as he entered Jerusalem and literally turning the tables on the influential Temple leaders was a foretaste of an even more decisive display of God's power later in the week. Stay alert. What happens this week changes the world, and the most surprising reversal of all is on its way. Amen.

Soup's On

2010-03-23T17:37:00.001-07:00

My knowledge of the ways groups can do fund-raisers has been growing with leaps and bounds since I've moved to the Hudson Valley. The congregation I serve just did a 'soup sampler and sale' and raised a bunch of money. Lots of people made a lot of soup -- stuck it in crock pots and schlepped them over to church. Then the public and congregation were invited to come and sample as many soups as they wanted for 5 bucks and buy a little container of any (or many) for 7. Expensive soup, but hey, it's a fund raiser. UNfortunately it was a beautiful and warm day-before-spring-arrives Saturday -- not conducive to soup eating. Usually March 20 would have brought perfect weather for soup. But some people came. and the next day, after worship, the sales of the remains went very well! Some people probably bought their own soup :)

Oh, and there were cookies for sale too.

Sewing

2010-03-16T11:16:00.001-07:00

There was a time in my life when I did a lot more sewing than I do these days. In recent years it's pretty much been Halloween costumes for cute little red-haired kids that have gotten me to get the machine out.

But right now I'm sewing costumes not of the Halloween sort -- but instead, Dutch Costumes. A very strange thing to be doing in many parts of the world for sure. But 25 plus years ago, I was sewing one of these boys Volendam cosutmes too -- for the dad of the kid I'm sewing one for now. I'm pleased that I'm remembering all the quirks.

3 year old hoopster

2010-03-14T18:16:00.000-07:00

My grandson has been working on his basketball skills since before he could walk; it thrills his little soul. And now I look at him taking shots and again am amazed at the power of genetics: both as it shapes our desires and our skills.

Barely Hanging in There

2010-03-08T04:07:00.001-08:00

Only nine more days until St. Patrick's Day.
Then this sweetheart of a poinsettia needs to go to her final reward.

Happy Birthday Anna!

2010-03-05T19:35:00.000-08:00

Heavy Laden

2010-02-25T15:53:00.001-08:00

I have long liked that phrase, "heavy laden" -- it makes me think of Jesus.

Amazing Soldier Friends

2010-02-19T18:19:00.000-08:00

About every 7 or 8 weeks or so I have a date at a care facility. It's up the road about 4 miles from my home and this regular duty and privilege is teaching me much. I go, as you may have guessed, as the 'minister speaker' for that particular day and I'm getting to know the regulars who attend: Millie and Robert, Edith and Ellen and. . .

No microphone, so I speak loudly, and even then I know it's impossible for some of them to really catch whatever I say. But it surely doesn't matter -- to me or them.

We sing -- from big old pamplet type books that have the words of many hymns printed in large print. I don't play the piano and haven't found anyone to come with me, but I sing well enough to belt out these songs and have them sing along. It is a great joy. I am very, very grateful in those moments that my whole life has been filled with the singing of 'church songs.' And what I'm learning, is that even those songs that somewhere along the line I learned to dismiss as inferior, or decided were filled with questionable theology have their own redemptive power. Who did I think I was anyway?

So yesterday, February 18, was a day of singing, among other things: Amazing Grace, Onward Christian Soldiers and What a Friend We Have in Jesus.

Along with When the Roll is Called up Yonder, and God Will Take Care of You and This Little Light of Mine.

Thank you God.

Color

2010-02-16T08:09:00.000-08:00

A fb friend just noted that her at-home-study had been repainted: from a soft yellow to deep mauve with purple accents. She said she loved the colors and strongly believed that colors help set the mood and energy, and our thoughts, productiveness, etc. in a room. I couldn't agree more. When I was in 6th, 7th or 8th grade (can't remember which, even though back then those three grades seemed FAR apart and hardly confuseable) I did a science project -- remember THOSE! -- on color. Seemed kind of lame then; I'm not even sure what grade I received for my efforts. (Although I do remember it was the year my sister was awarded the school grand prize.) I'm remembering all this because one of the things that brings me great joy in my knitting is the color of yarn.

Pizza Watchers

2010-02-13T06:52:00.001-08:00

Great day, I had yesterday, visiting friends in Brooklyn, New York: lunch, bead buying, museum, sanctuary, and then drinks and dinner in a nice kid friendly bar. These cute girls were VERY interested in watching the pizza people plan, press, produce, and present the pizzas. Perfect.

For Years

2010-02-10T08:31:00.000-08:00

I've lived in the parsonage that is now my home for almost 13 months. A friend who stopped for tea last week said that was amazing because my home looks like I've lived in it for years. I don't know -- maybe that's because I have a lot of stuff and love to have it cluttered around me.