Of Fasting and Fish Fries

Fasting
Is out of fashion.
In a culture of
Over consumption
Under consuming is
Suspect.

Living
Within our means.
Streamlining our stuff.
Eating less than
All-we-can-eat.
Acts of subversion?

Friday Fish Fries:
The supposed fast
Which leaves us stuffed.
Chocolate abstinence
Hardly seems
A sacrifice.

1.4 billion people
In the world live
On less than $2.00 a day.
I wonder
What's in their
Happy meals?

My spirit is
Willing.
Yet all this talk of
Fasting
Gives me a
Headache.

Maybe it's time
For me to put my faith
In the Bread of Life
And remember,
I will not live by
Bread alone.

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

I have been thinking about fasting for the past few days.

There's a gentleman in Madison who has been on a hunger strike for 27 days in protest of the governor's budget repair bill. Read about him at: http://hungryguymadison.blogspot.com

The folks at Sojourners are currently involved in a fast to protest Federal Budget Cuts that will adversely affect those on the margins in the U.S.: http://www.sojo.net

One of my Facebook friends is considering participating in an Australian project called "Live Below the Line" -- a way of getting ourselves in touch with the multitude of people in this world who earn less than $2 per day. http://livebelowtheline.com.au

Clearly these people and organizations understand the power of food in our world -- the extravagance of those of us in the "have" category and the powerlessness of those in the "have not" category.

I'm seriously considering Holy Week as an opportunity to offer up a fast, both for my own learning and discipline and to listen for ways in which I can be more attentive to those in Milwaukee who go hungry while I simply go to Panera's.

21st Lent

Now that I'm
Almost midway through
Another Lenten season
I can't help but ask myself,
"What's different?"

After living for thirty years
Without knowing of this holy time,
Lent is still a gift for me
Even if I don't readily see
Change.

I get distracted
By blue skies,
Warmer temperatures
Lengthening days and
My ever-present "Undone List".

Maybe the distractions are necessary fuel.
Maybe I find the fodder for
Reflection in them.
Jesus set his face like flint toward Jerusalem.
Can I wash my face and keep my fast?

I'm still learning the joys of Lent.
Thankfully, God has
All the time in the world and
All the patience of eternity
To help me understand my lessons.

Struggles


"My fellow Americans, I know that at a time of upheaval overseas -- when the news is filled with conflict and change -- it can be tempting to turn away from the world. And as I've said before, our strength abroad is anchored in our strength here at home. That must always be our North Star -- the ability of our people to reach their potential, to make wise choices with our resources, to enlarge the prosperity that serves as a wellspring for our power, and to live the values that we hold so dear." -- President Barak Obama, March 28, 2011


Potential. 
Prosperity. 
Power.
Am I the only one who gets nervous?


I think there was a time when I believed
In the infallibility of my country...
My own personal Age of Innocence.
In 1969, I asked my mom,
"Why are we in Vietnam?"
She told me to stop
Watching Walter Cronkite.


Last Saturday
As I stood in the security line
At an airport in Florida
I heard cheering and clapping.
I turned and
Watched a wife and daughter run
Arms outstretched and
Tears streaming to
Embrace their Man
In a Navy uniform.


Someone in line behind me said,
"Thank God, he's home safe."
I silently agreed.
Momentarily I was relieved.
On this spring day,
Two people had their loved one walk to them!
No doubt, on the same day
Other families in other places watched
As their loved ones were carried to them
In a flag-draped box.


I am under no illusions.
I can question our actions
Because of the sacrifices of those 
Who take the actions.



I can question the Executive Orders
Because others obey them.


Potential.
Prosperity.
Power.
Are these our values?
I struggle mightily as a follower of Jesus.
And yet...
I can only stand in awe of those who
Struggle to follow orders.

 I can struggle philosophically 

Because others struggle physically.

Three Months

Since January I have...

Officiated at four funerals.
Had my soul shredded by
Senseless violence in Tucson.
Had my heart broken by images
Of tragedy and destruction from Japan.
Found myself utterly "caught up"
In Wisconsin political drama.
Been righteously infuriated by
Our national inability to bypass war.

I have also...
Learned anew the extent of
My powerlessness --
Against the Powers;
Against Death.

So what to do now?
Prattle on in sermons?
Or get a milkshake?
Rage against the Powers?
Or go shopping?
Shake my fist at Death?
Or lay down and die?
Pray like Hell?
Or fantasize about Heaven?

Not that simple!
You protest.
So do I.
But the question remains
What to do now?

Crying in Church

I can never tell exactly when it will happen...
When the words of the liturgy will
Wiggle their way past my intellect
And create a crack in my well-defended heart.

Spirit works in wonderfully subversive ways --
Ever-resistant to predictability
She will not be controlled or confined;
She floods my arid cynic with Living Water.

My throat gets lumpy;
My heart expands;
My racing thoughts go still...
And the flood leaks out in tears.

Praying Out Loud

I suspect I'm not the only one
Who can sometimes be cynical
About wordy prayers.
After all, didn't Jesus warn
His followers about
"Vain repetitions"?

Besides, do I really believe
Praying out loud makes
Any sort of difference?
Can my words,
No matter how passionate,
Actually influence a response?

Then, this weekend
I spent several moments
Praying within a particular community.
When the invitation was given
To offer prayers and thanksgivings,
"Silently or aloud"... to my amazement
I heard many prayers and thanksgivings!

Quietly spoken, but spoken nonetheless.
Thanksgivings for weather and
Family and friends and each other.
Petitions for those who were ill or
Suffering with addiction or
Japan or peace in the world.

Praying out loud.
Prayer as a grammar of faithful living.
Praying out loud.
Prayer from the heart of a faithful community.
Praying out loud.
Prayer towards the heart of a faithful God.

Learning in Community

As a person who regularly stands in front of groups of people to "say stuff", I am constantly amazed at the level of engagement I witness in the faces of the people who are sitting in the crowd listening to the stuff I'm saying.

Sometimes I wish
I would have said stuff better.
Or more clearly.
Other times I wish
I would have left stuff unsaid.
Or had said it
With a bit more sensitivity.

The great news about learning within a community is the one who is supposedly the teacher actually becomes a learner. I always learn more in the process of presenting to people than I would have learned otherwise. An engaged group challenges me to be engaged myself. The questions which arise are always more interesting than the answers I think I might have.

This is the gift of Church --
A group of learners,
Following the Master Teacher,
Learn from each other
Under the guidance of the Spirit.

Sent from my iPad

Catching Up

I am in northeast Florida for a brief visit with the rest of my family (parents, sister, niece and all the rest) prior to a weekend's worth of work in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. At dinner last night with my sister and brother-in-law and at breakfast this morning with my parents, the conversation was all about "catching up":

How's work?
How's health?
How are other extended family members (uncles, aunts, cousins)?
What's going on (or not)?
What are plans for next week? Next month? Next year?

Much of the chatting would be characterized as "small talk", but beneath the talk are the bonds of love and affection which have been formed through years of relationship -- times when these relationships have been really close and times when they have been strained.

In the telling of our various vignettes of how our lives are unfolding, I hear and see the ways we relate to each other -- the comfortable familiarity, the ease of laughter, the awareness of certain parts of our history which won't be revisited during such a brief time together.

Reflecting on these few hours, I couldn't help but think about how we have turned concept of "family" into an ideal (or is it idol?) that is "high and lifted up" from the ways in which most of us get to live. The meaningful moments are indeed found in the presence one gives to the mundane moments. Perhaps if we could reclaim a degree of realism with regards to our familial relationships this would lead us "church types" towards a more patient stance with our respective communities of faith.

Families aren't perfect. Neither are local congregations. But in many instances, we're all doing the best we can to connect with other human beings -- to remind ourselves God never intended us for isolation. After all, for Christians, the way we speak of God begins with the understanding of God in Community with God's Self -- Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Maybe the way we begin to catch up with God is to invest the time necessary to catch up with one another.

Sent from my iPad

A Prayer to Share

After the past two posts, I went back to my library looking for something that might turn me toward another subject, but instead, I found myself leafing through a little book, Prayers Plainly Spoken (another gem by Stanley Hauerwas). I rediscovered the following prayer at the back of the book -- a prayer written after the U.S. had sent missles into Iraq because Iraq had allegedly tried to kill former President George H. W. Bush by launching some missles of their own into Kuwait during Bush's visit in late April 1993.  Then President Clinton authorized the U.S. missle strikes to show the Iraqi government he "meant business". I offer this almost eighteen year old prayer entitled, "Save us from our American Power", for our reflection:

Graceful Lord, we find ourselves living in the most powerful country in the world. The pride and self-righteousness such power breeds are beyond compare. No power exists that can humble us. We are tyrants of all we survey. We decide to bomb these people, send rockets against those people, kill those we call terrorists --all because we can. We are the most powerful people in the world. It is hard not to be caught up in such power. It is intoxicating. Save us from it. Sober us with the knowledge that you will judge this nation, you will humble this nation, you will destroy this nation for our pride. Send us a reminder that you are God, that you alone have the right of vengeance, and if it be your will, make those we bomb instruments of your judgment. At the very least, save us from the "nomality of killing." Amen.

I am discomforted by the strength of those words. They are difficult to read on this side of September 11, 2001. But these are words I will be sitting with in the days ahead. As I told someone via e-mail recently, I wrestle with what I believe to be Jesus' call to his followers to live the ways of non-violence, and I wonder how such a stance is possible in such a violent world. This wrestling is why I believe the Church is so necessary  -- to provide a place in which confused souls like me can draw strength and support from a community which spans across space and time.

Pacifist in Training

"Christians today are desperate to show they represent the best humanisms around, 

and I think that's a strategy that's deeply unfaithful. 

Let's start with Christians recovering why they have a problem with war."

(Stanley Hauerwas in an interview with America: The National Catholic Weekly, May 2010)

I continue to wrestle with the issue of what makes me (or any Christian for that matter) any different than my neighbors who are not. Nice people come in all sorts and conditions, and one needn't be a follower of Jesus to be a good human being. In fact, throughout my life, I've met plenty of atheists who are every bit as respectful of others (and in some cases even more so) than those claiming a "relationship" with Jesus.

In spite of some Christians' desire to make it otherwise, the "Christian" life is about more than nice manners, politeness and "accepting Jesus" so that one gets her/his ticket punched through the pearly gates for eternal life. The Church is more than a self-improvement society. The Church, as the Body of Christ, actually stands over and against the structures and powers which attempt to convince us we can make our way through this life under our own power.

And we crave our own power, don't we?
At least I do.
Maybe the craving of power
Is the heritage of being born in a country
That projects its power all over the world.

But for Christians
(at least as I read the New Testament)
The power at work in Christ
Is the power to lay it all down...
To offer it all up...
To trust that God is working
Even in those moments when it seems
God is absent.

To hope.
To love.
To pray.
To die.
To trust that
In dying
New life will arise.

The victory of Easter
Doesn't come through legions of angels
Sword-wielding seraphim or
Bomb-dropping cherubim.
Easter overcomes Death
In the shadows,
From within the dankness of the grave.

This is the message we have
Not of superior numbers or
Advanced technology.
Rather, a beaten, bruised
And very dead
Corpse.

The remains of the
Prince of Peace
Slaughtered
By the whims of Empire.
Easter isn't the
Happy ending to a fairy tale.
Easter is Hope Incarnate
That the human penchant for killing
Will not have the last word.

Maybe if we could trust the
Unsettling Good News of Easter,
We could forego our trust in the
Dehumanizing machinations of war.
And if Christians could
Recover our problem with war,
Who knows?
We might just become interesting again.

Odyssey Dawn

I'll admit it.
This is my place of struggle.
Preaching about the Prince of Peace...
And saying far too little
About our penchant for war.
Afghanistan. Iraq.
And now, Libya.
Where does it end?

Do we even want it to end?
Or is it just simply
A power game?
With the members of our military
Playing roles assigned
By people in power suits?
Some would say,
"Now wait a minute, preacher!
Church is no place for politics!"

But Jesus was up to his eyeballs in politics.
If this statement offends you,
Consider this...
He didn't wind up on
the Cross simply because
He was nice to people.

Preaching the Good News of Love
Unsettles the Powers,
Who work to manipulate and control
For their own benefit and gain.

Feeding.
Healing.
Raising the Dead.
These are political acts,
In the face of Empire which longs to play God
(even while invoking a version of "God").
Empire wills to make the decisions --
Who gets fed;
Who gets well;
Who lives and who dies...
Under the rubric of public policy,
But primarily for
Empire's benefit and glory.
(And re-election too!)

The idolatry of Empire is
A bipartisan religion.
Democrats and Republicans
All bow down and worship, craving
The power Empire drizzles on them.

Go ahead.
Wave the Flag.
Sing "God Bless America";
Fire the missiles.
Drop the bombs.
Claim the high ground and
Crucify Jesus again.

Penitent

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts, and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, on God, for ever and ever. Amen. 

(Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent)

From time to time, I feel a certain impatience with language intended to convey a theological concept, but instead impacts me as overly pious and lacking much connection to people's day to day lives. The appearance of the word penitent in today's collect is such an occasion. When used as an adjective (as in this prayer), penitent means, "feeling or expressing sorrow for sin or wrongdoing and disposed to atonement and amendment; contrite." Even the language used to define the term employs another layer of religious/theological terminology!

Sin.
Atonement.
Amendment.
Contrite.

Used as a noun, penitent means "a person who confesses sin and submits to penance." What's penance? "A punishment undergone in token of sorrow for sin." I can't help but wonder if all of this stained glass language simply serves to further distance us from confronting ourselves honestly and compassionately.

In my own life, I'm all too aware of the ways in which I have failed. Feeling sorrow comes easily. The guilt monster can overwhelm me with a sense of my own ineptitude. I know the helplessness of relationships broken by my own selfishness. And, if I'm not careful, such feelings do not assist me in correcting behaviors, rather they simply paralyze me with shame.

On the one hand, I don't think we can simply ignore the ways in which our tendency toward breaking relationships -- with ourselves, our loved ones, our communities or God -- is a manifestation of our own spiritual brokenness. And yet, I wonder if employing the language of punishment assists us in the amendment of life to which I believe Lent beckons us. I know all too well that the only way I can "hold fast" to the Good News of Jesus is because God, through Jesus, is already holding fast to me.

Perhaps remembering God always acts first and through such loving action empowers us to act as beloved of God is the first step on the way toward a new beginning.

Holy Food and Drink

Irish soda bread;
Corned beef and cabbage;
Shepherd's pie and salmon;
Bread pudding;
Beverages -- fermented and
Carbonated.

Adults gathered 'round tables;
Children romping with abandon;
Friends, strangers and neighbors
Young, old and in between...
Sharing a drink;
Sharing laughs;
Sharing stories;
Sharing music;
Sharing a dance;
Sharing a meal.

The cooks were in the kitchen for hours --
The better part of the day, actually.
The clean-up crew remained long after
Everyone else had departed.
A fifteen hour day for a  few
Culminated in three hours of joy for many.

I don't know what heaven will be,
But I like to think
I saw a glimpse of it tonight.
A room full of people;
Bonded for a moment
Of respite in the midst of
Changes and chances.
Eternal life made present.

Sometimes church looks its best
When it doesn't look like church at all.
Tonight we "broke bread",
And in that breaking were bonded to each other.
Holy food and drink
Offered freely and joyfully.
A taste of a hint
Of the mystery of
New and unending life.

Communion!

Confession and Repentance

"Confession is the first step to repentance." (Local church sign)

Someone asked me yesterday what I thought about that sentence. They said they were confused by it. Because the sentence was on a Roman Catholic Church sign, they thought the sign was encouraging everyone reading it to visit with the priest for the Rite of Reconciliation.

"Isn't saying 'I'm sorry' enough? Why should I have to tell some man what I did/didn't do?" my friend asked.

"Well, actually, saying 'I'm sorry' is the confession part," I said, "Making a decision to change one's behavior so as to not need to say 'I'm sorry' again for the same offense, well, that's repentance."

My friend responded, "This is way too complicated. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

As I've thought about this brief exchange, I wondered about the ways in which we've been unclear in our language in the church. Or we use language with a different meaning than intended. Or we've assumed people know the meaning of the words we're using.

The fact is, repentance (which means to turn around and head in an opposite direction), is always preceded by confession (which means we recognize we've been going in the wrong direction in the first place!). Admitting we're wrong leads (hopefully) to a change in behavior. Without confession, repentance is unlikely. Without repentance, confession means nothing.

All of which has had me thinking today.
What are the things I need to confess?
Where are my opportunities to turn around?

Confession and repentance.
Words that create some tension --
Maybe as a result of misunderstanding.
Perhaps the real challenge about these words is
They remind us that our work of formation is never done.
These words prod us toward self-reflection and
Amendment of life.
They are meant to lighten our burdens through life
Not burden us down with the weight of guilt.

Where are our opportunities for confession?
What are the new directions we would travel
 If we could only admit we were going the wrong way?

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

Two Churches?

Today has been a day for talking church.
Not church with a capital "C"...
As in the Church Mysterious --
The Body of Christ.

Nope. Today has been all about
The church with a little "c"...
As in the church incorporated --
The 501(c)3.

The Body of Christ transcends
Time and Space.
The 501(c)3 inhabits the
Here and Now.

The Body of Christ works in
Water and Bread and Wine.
The 501(c)3 works in
Dollars and Buildings and Personnel.

The Body of Christ proclaims the
Good News of grace and faith.
The 501(c)3 proclaims the
Other news of duty and effort.

The Body of Christ lives
By the leading of the Spirit.
The 501(c)3 lives
By the enactment of rules and regs.

The 501(c)3 constantly contemplates
Its own demise.
The Body of Christ constantly contemplates
The promise of resurrection.

I never weary of reflecting on
The Body of Christ...
But I'm bone-tired by the stark realities of
The 501(c)3.

Pauses

This evening a few folks gathered in the worship space at Trinity Church for a service of Evening Prayer. Setting aside time for prayer at the beginning and ending of the day has been a spiritual practice across all traditions for millennia. Before human beings began to artificially manipulate the world about them by employing such concepts as "hours, minutes and seconds", the constant was the rising and setting of the sun. To acknowledge the mystery of sleeping and waking as well as pausing to reflect on the day just past seem to be built-in responses of the human psyche.

Who among us hasn't felt that primal sense of awe upon witnessing a sunrise or sunset? And how much more miraculous and mysterious must daybreak and nightfall have seemed before humans were able to use other means to keep the darkness at bay?

The structure of Evening Prayer is fairly simple. A few verses of scripture. A couple of hymns. Formal, historic prayers (called "collects"). A set of petitions and responses called "suffrages". To read the service straight through and sing the brief hymns could be accomplished in under fifteen minutes. But our observance of this time of communal praying took about a half hour tonight.

Why?
Simple.
We allowed time for pauses.
Space to breathe.
To sit with our thoughts,
Our circumstances,
Our concerns,
Our thanksgivings,
Our feelings.

We reconnected
With communal solitude.
While the world continued to
Whiz by outside the sacred space,
Inside Trinity Church there were
Moments of stillness.
Time to catch our breath.
Time to order our thoughts.
Time to be.
Time to pray.

Being still isn't so much on people's minds these days -- there's always more to do than time available. But for a few minutes this evening, as the rays of the setting sun faded into night, I reconnected with a sense of the mystery of life that goes beyond frenetic activity. In those pauses, each person present had the opportunity to connect with the changelessness of God -- and in those moments of connection, briefly touch the timelessness of eternity.

Keen Listening

"...keen listening will take us to some surprising places into and beyond the mystery of Christ." 

--The Rev. Deacon Marge Kiss, All Saints' Cathedral, Milwaukee, WI

As a part of Trinity's Lenten Practice, we are reading Morning Prayer every weekday during Lent at 6:30 a.m. To connect what we're doing with the life of the larger Church (and in particular, the Diocese of Milwaukee), we're following along in the Diocesan Lenten Bible Study on the Gospel of Matthew. You can find this study at:


http://biblestudywithbishopmiller.blogspot.com/


Because of our schedule and that of the Diocese, we're a day behind with our readings, so today, we read Matthew's Nativity account (1:18-2:12) and the devotional comments offered by Deacon Kiss. As I listened to the leader read the reflection, the line that caught my attention is the one quoted above. I began to wonder:


How do we sharpen our spiritual listening skills so that they are "keen" -- razor sharp?

What would it be like to inhabit a community in which listening for/to God and each other was more important than getting our own message out?

How do we listen below the cacophony of sounds that assault us day in and day out to hear the whisper of the Spirit?

I don't have any answers to these questions, but given the climate in our culture these days, having our ears open to keenly listen seems like a laudable (and lifelong!) mission. What do you think?

Two Perspectives

I was the celebrant earlier today for a weekday Eucharist at another parish in the area. I was the substitute priest, filling in for a clergy friend who was busy attending to a burial in another state. To say that 5:30 p.m. on a Monday afternoon isn't necessarily a day/time that will draw the multitudes to a worship service, would likely be an understatement. In fact, the total attendance (including me) for the liturgy was six people.  At age 52, I was the youngest person present. The entire liturgy, from start to finish lasted slightly under 30 minutes.

From the standpoint of efficiency, cranking out one liturgy after another for several people at a time is probably not the best use of the gifts/skills of that parish's clergyperson. In reality, the liturgy seemed "tired" and a bit wrung out. And, to be honest, I wondered as we were working our way through worship, if old, tired and gray had become the de facto description of the Episcopal Church.

At the same time, I couldn't help but give thanks for the witness of the five people who made it to the liturgy and participated in the service with as much verve as they could muster. I think I might have seen one of them smile! They are, undoubtedly, witnessing to faithfulness (even when such faithfulness comes disguised as a degree of grumpiness) and what such faithfulness looks like to a culture lacking in any "stick-to-it-ness".

So, was today's liturgy simply a trip down memory lane and "what was"?
Or a trip to look out across the horizons of possibility and identify "what could be"?

Perhaps it was a little of both.

Sermon Snippets

I don't write many sermon manuscripts these days, but given what has been happening in Wisconsin over the past few weeks, I felt it imperative to put my thoughts in writing, both from the standpoint of getting clear myself and to keep me (as much as possible) from saying something I would later regret. Eventually, today's sermon will be available for your hearing (should you want to do that) at:

http://www.trinitywauwatosa.org

The Gospel reading upon which the sermon is based is Matthew's account of the Temptation of Jesus (Matt. 4:1-11). This sermon was my attempt at connecting the lesson assigned by the lectionary with the context of "where I live". Time will tell whether or not I was successful in accomplishing such a thing.In the meantime, I have opted to post a few paragraphs from today's sermon instead of the entire text. Hopefully these snippets will give the reader a general feel for the sermon's overall trajectory without the laborious task of reading it all...

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

We do live in wildernesses, don't we? And not just for 40 days! Some of our wilderness wandering has gone on for years or even decades. We even brought our own personal wildernesses to church with us this morning.

Wildernesses of disease, grief, addiction or anger. Wildernesses of shame, resignation or depression. Wildernesses of greed, inattention or apathy. Wildernesses of distraction, hatred or pride. Wildernesses of guilt, self-righteousness or pain.

We will not walk out of these wildernesses by simply giving up chocolate or reading some devotional literature. We've lived within these wildernesses so long, we think they are our homes. Our sense of ourselves has become skewed. Our priorities have become disordered. Our behaviors constantly miss the mark -- we fall short of what we know to be true -- individually and collectively.

Whatever else may be going on in Madison, at the root of it all is the constant human temptation to believe that we can save ourselves. We can save ourselves if we balance the budget. We can save ourselves if we can maintain our rights. We can save ourselves if we create enough jobs. We can save ourselves if our voices are heard. We can save ourselves through the legislative process. We can save ourselves through bold, decisive leadership. We can save ourselves through a recall effort. We can save ourselves if we "believe in Wisconsin again".

We fall victim to the belief that we can turn the rocks of poverty into the bread of plenty simply by trickle-down economics or through the construction of vast swaths of social safety nets. We put God to the test by asking God's "blessing" on our own opinions and prejudices, promising that, if we get our way, we will "give God the glory". We fall down and worship just about anything -- be it the markets on Wall Street or the unions on Main Street -- if we even vaguely think such worship will give us the power over our own lives (and the lives of others!) we so crave.

The temptation is to think that our hungers are the only ones that need filling. The temptation is to behave recklessly in the name of "having faith". The temptation is to reduce worship to some sort of transaction in which if we say/do the "right thing", all the good stuff and ONLY the good stuff will come our way.

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

Enough said (for now).

Faith-Walking

On Ash Wednesday, the Church began its ancient journey to the Cross. As we work our way through the next few weeks, we will hear the the familiar stories of Jesus as his ministry gathers a following (and a goodly group of critics). We will get weary of the entire season of Lent about two weeks before it's done. Hymns in a minor key will expedite that weariness, no doubt! Marching to the darkness of Golgotha seems counterintuitive as we watch the days grow longer in the light of Spring.

But our own journey of Lent differs significantly from the final days of Jesus' ministry.
We have heard the story before.
We know how it will end (whether we believe the ending to be historical fact or not).
We can become fairly ho-hum about the entire matter.

We say,
"Yes, yes, I understand...
Jesus teaches,
Runs afoul of the religious and civil authorities;
Winds up executed for his trouble.
Then three days later he rises from the dead.
When do the Cadbury eggs go on sale?"

For us, Easter is a done deal.
We know the rest of the story...
So even at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday,
We're not worried.
We know Easter's coming.

All of which makes me wonder.
What did Jesus know and
When did he know it?
I suspect plenty of people have opinions on this matter.
So do I.

I believe Jesus lived faithfully every moment of every day.
I believe he walked the life of faith he taught.
His life was a sermon as much as his words...
And it all finally made perfect sense to him
When he opened his eyes on Easter!

For me, if Jesus knew
Everything would happen the way it would happen,
And he knew his identity and played along with the circumstances...
Then the example of his life is greatly diminished.
Jesus was a human being,
Who came to know, along the way,
His identity as God's Son.
Rather than God Almighty
Who merely pretended to be human.

The God of all Creation in the person of Jesus
Followed the same path offered to the people of Israel:
Live by the Word of God.
Don't put God to the test.
Worship God alone.

In walking life by faith,
Jesus shows us all a faith worth living.

On the Last Day

"O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life; and let your 

Holy Spirit lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days, that, when we shall have served you in our generation, we may be gathered to our ancestors, having the testimony of a good conscience..." (from the Burial of the Dead, BCP, p. 504)

We see things these days -- because of ubiquitous nature of cameras of every sort and the instantaneous nature of communication -- that are beyond our ability to fully absorb. Such was my experience of the images I've seen today from Japan.

Today lives were cut short.
Today other lives were irrevocably changed.
Tomorrow many of us will go on about our business.
As if nothing has happened.
Because what happens on the other side of the world
Has no direct bearing upon us.

We might feel pity.
We might feel anger.
We might feel helpless.
We might feel nothing.

We receive these images, which
Only serve to depersonalize the dead
Objectify the survivors,
And reduce natural disasters to a sort of morbid entertainment.

I pray we will remember to pray for those who lost their lives today.
And for those who lost loved ones;
And for those who lost their health;
Or their faith or their hope.

And my other prayer is that
While we're praying for everyone else...
We won't succumb to the notion
That our tomorrow is guaranteed.

We never know, do we?
Our last day may come upon us at any moment...
Even a heartbeat away.

All the more reason to pray fervently.
All the more reason to live faithfully.
Kyrie eleison.

Wanting

"The devil is but another name for our impatience. We want bread, we want to force God's hand to rescue us, we want peace -- and we want all this now. But Jesus is our bread, he is our salvation, and he is our peace. That he is so requires that we learn to wait with him in a world of hunger, 

idolatry, and war to witness to the kingdom that is God's patience.

The Father will have the kingdom present one small act at a time."

(Stanley Hauerwas in "Commentary on Matthew", p. 55)

Lately I've been very impatient about God's patient (and peaceable) kingdom.

Why won't it come RIGHT NOW ?
(On my timetable!)
How am I to respond when the kingdom for which I pray seems to recede further and further into the future? (Facing my mortality never makes me happy!)
And who has time for small acts? Isn't it time we do something BIG?
(I'm not sure I can trust God to get anything done...so I need to do something myself!)

As the political situation here in Wisconsin continues to spiral towards God-only-knows-where,
I keep wondering, "How is the faithfulness of Jesus calling me to live right now?"
I don't think it's as simple as trumpeting forth in the pulpit.
Or posting blog entries, or reading about "the issues", or (for me) even demonstrating.
I'm too attached to my own vision of an "appropriate outcome" to pray honestly about it.
By Hauerwas', definition, "the devil's got a hold on me"!

"Humans need more than bread to live."
"Don't put God to the test."
"Worship and serve God alone."
Those were Jesus' answers to his temptations.
Jesus' answers always challenge me to ask better questions!
What about you?

Dusted

"All of us go down to the dust..."
(The Commendation, BCP, p. 499)

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return"
(The Imposition of Ashes, BCP, p. 265)

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
(The Committal, BCP, p. 501)

Remembering
Where we came from while
Looking toward
Where we're going
Challenges us to live fully today.

To say the prayers of the Church
In a space where the ashes
Of those who have gone before
Are at our backs...
Grounds us in the present.

The dead will be raised,
Our Faith tells us.
But for now,
They are dead.
And we will die too.

Marked with ashen crosses,
Dusted with the reminder of Death.
We arise from our prayers
Penitent?
Humbled?
Rededicated?
Hopefully.

Paying Respects

Funeral entourages don't happen very often these days. The long, slow stream of cars, headlights beaming following the hearse to the cemetery has nearly become a thing of the past as fewer and fewer people seem to opt for caskets and vaults and graves as final resting places for their mortal remains. During my entire time at Trinity, I think I've only ridden in three or four processions. Previous to today, the funeral director was charged with "traffic control" -- which amounted to hapless attempts at darting in and around the rest of the folks on the roadways without causing an accident, or in any way slowing the pace of everyone not in the procession.

I asked one director a few years ago, "Don't people stop when a procession comes by, out of respect for the dead?" He simply laughed at me. Then he said, "I think people don't want to stop, because they don't want to spend even a minute or two of being reminded that, sooner or later, they're going to die." I also asked about police escorts for processions. He patiently explained the number of municipalities in our county and the costs associated with such extravagances. I simply reminded myself, "You're not in the South anymore, Gary." And let it slide.

Then today happened. Today I was in a funeral procession like none in my years of officiating at funerals. At least a half a dozen (but I think several more!) of our city's police department turned out -- squad cars spit and polished, lights flashing and when necessary, sirens blaring. And bringing up the rear? One of the city's Engine Companies, loaded with firefighters.The official vehicles blazed a trail -- parting traffic like Moses parted the Red Sea.

We ignored stop lights.
We took our time.
We "owned" the road.
People had to wait.

I also noticed something else. Vehicles in the oncoming lanes moved to the edge of the road and stopped until we had passed. I even saw a few people cross themselves. I saw some road maintenance people remove their hats. I saw a couple of spontaneous salutes. Paying their respects. Pausing in the busyness of life to reflect on the brevity of life and reverencing the dead.

I'm sure some people who saw this sight probably thought all of the commotion must have been for some politician or "famous" person. Certainly, Pete had the nickname, "Mayor of Wauwatosa", and he was more-than-famous to his family, his friends and the public servants (police officers and firefighters) he welcomed day in and day out for decades into his bicycle shop. Pete was a guy who served his country (WWII), raised his family, ran his business, enjoyed a good meal and a good brew. He was a good neighbor. He was a person who embodied hospitality and humor.

And the friends he made through his life would not have Pete's final trip be interrupted by the likes of traffic lights and impatient drivers. So they did what Pete would have, undoubtedly, NOT wanted. They made folks wait. They saw to it that respect was paid -- by paying their own respects in a caring, solemn and professional fashion.

Pete was laid to rest with the prayers of the Church. The sounds of "Taps" and the flapping of the Flag as it was folded, wafted through the air. His family and friends huddled in the almost-spring breeze. His officer friends stood at attention in a final salute. Paying respects.

Being in Pete's processional today,
The day before Ash Wednesday, makes me wonder.
If we took more time to respect the dead,
How would we more fully reverence the living,
Since we are all, after all, created in the image of God?
"Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Sit Back, Relax, Enjoy the Flight

I'm by no means a road warrior. I don't have thousands of frequent flyer miles. I have, however, heard the "important safety information" spiel from the flight attendants, enough times I'm fairly certain I could now deliver the information on their behalf. At some point in the pre-takeoff routine, the pilot or co-pilot gives the weather conditions at the destination city (temperature, wind speed, ceiling and precipitation). There's also an estimated flying time ("wheels up to wheels down").

And the doxology at the end of this pre-flight liturgy? "Sit back, relax and enjoy the flight". I suspect it is the airline equivalent to "have a nice day" -- an afterthought that pilots perpetuate from one generation to the next because it sounds hospitable.

These days the phrase rings a bit hollow. How can we sit back when the seats are so close together that to recline the seat at all will immediately place us on the knees of the passenger behind us? How can we relax when we are literally shoulder to shoulder with the person next to us -- a bit phyiscally closer than we're used to being for extended periods of time, with loved ones, let alone complete strangers. Given these questions, "enjoying" the flight seems to be reduced to getting from point A to point B with as little turbulence and as close to "on time" as possible.

This is the time of year we liturgically-minded clergy have our own version of the offending pilots' phrase. We are busy "bidding" folks to "a holy Lent". And even as I have used the phrase over the past few weeks, I've begun to wonder (thanks to my four flights over the weekend), exactly what I mean by saying such a thing.

What is a "holy" Lent? Why is it important to attempt to "have" one? What are the ways someone could actually engage the season in a "holy" fashion? Why bother? What's the point? Who cares? How can this invitation possibly become more than ecclesiastical "filler" with no discernible traction in/impact upon people's lives?

From unreflective stained glass language...
Good Lord, deliver me!

Birthday

Today is the final day of my 52nd year....
Tomorrow, when asked my age,
I can say, "I'm 52."
And the count towards 53 will begin.

To my teenaged son,
I'm almost ancient.
To many of my octogenarian parishioners,
I'm but a baby...
Some have been kind enough to tell me so!

My day will begin with a meeting at 7:30 a.m.
And unfold with one appointment after the other.
Then there will be a funeral in the evening.
At my age, birthday celebrations are optional.

And yet, I find something remarkably poetic
About officiating at a funeral on my birthday --
A wonderful reminder not to take any day as a given.
A cautionary tale to those of us who would pretend
Immortality is a birthright.

The Mystery of Love

> In a couple of hours, I will have the privilege of preaching a wedding homily for one of my dearest friends from seminary. We will have all of the glorious pomp and circumstance attendant to such an event in the Episcopal Church -- classical music, appropriate hymns, the solemnity of the Eucharist. We will see a beautiful bride and a handsome groom. We will pray for them, celebrate with them and wish them well in the ardent and arduous undertaking that is marriage.
>
> Church weddings bring us face to face with our innermost longings to love and be loved. But love does not come to us without exacting something from us. We give something of ourselves away because of love, while simultaneously becoming something more than we could be without love. The mutuality of giving and receiving -- not as a transaction but as a sign of transformation -- is part and parcel of ANY loving relationship, whether between wife and husband, parent and child or two best friends, just to name a few. In short, we are each changed, for better or worse, as a result of the qualities of our relationships, and our part in them over time.
>
> The mystery of love isn't a puzzle to be assembled or a problem to be solved. The mystery of love isn't the romantic fantasy of happily-ever-after. We catch glimpses of this mystery in the moments we least expect it -- a certain tone of voice, the tilt of a face, the sparkle of an eye or the hint of a smile. Sometimes the mystery looks pretty mundane -- taking out the trash, doing the dishes or walking the dog. Other times the mystery takes on a heroic quality -- long hours in a hospital room or the day-in-day-out toil of caregiving for someone no longer capable of caring for themselves. In the end though, maybe the best way to experience the mystery is to take the plunge and the risk of loving and being loved.
>
> Call me naive, but I really do believe the plunge is worth the risk.
>
>
>
>
> Sent from my iPad

The Last Alleluias

This coming Sunday is the last of the season of Epiphany. In a few short days, the words, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return." will be uttered over those who receive the imposition of ashes to mark the beginning of the season of Lent. From Ash Wednesday through the Great Vigil of Easter one word will be noticeably absent from our liturgies -- no "Alleluias" will be chanted, sung or said.

Along with the sparseness of the hymnody and the penitential tone of the words we will use during worship, the absence of any peep of an "Alleluia" will remind us that we are, indeed, in a VERY different season. Lent is meant to be wilderness-like...to grab us by the heart and usher us into a time of contemplation and yes, even repentance.

Contemplation and repentance can seem counterintuitive as the season of spring breaks out all around us. The lenten journey toward Easter is arduous and marathon-like. We do not journey alone, but with the blessed company of all faithful people. The journey begins in less than a week. Get ready. And this coming Sunday? Let those last "ALLELUIAS" ring!

Sent from my iPad

With Apologies (to the Meek)!

"In a time of change, learners inherit the earth, 

while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped 

to deal with a world that no longer exists." 

-- Eric Hoffer

In 1997, I entered the ordination process in the Episcopal Diocese of Florida. Over time, I learned that "The Process" (as it is nearly universally referred to by both those who are in it and those who are products of it) has one goal -- produce priests (hopefully learned ones!) for the Church. Aspirants, Postulants, Seminarians and Candidates are scrutinized, interviewed, stretched and compressed in a myriad of ways throughout "The Process". All of this is in the name of formation.

In this model, seminaries serve the function of providing academic quality control -- insuring that the persons desirous of Holy Orders are duly educated, so that, upon ordination, congregations can be assured of a modicum of learnedness.

And I'm beginning to wonder...to what end is, "learnedness" -- particularly if the foregone conclusion is that such learnedness is preferable to energy, enthusiasm and a high capacity for adaptability, flexibility and change?

The fact is, the Church (Episcopal and otherwise) is being pressed upon from all sides. But you couldn't tell such a thing by the way most of us "do church"! We crank out the liturgies. We generate sermons faster than rabbits do what rabbits do. We grind out discipleship. And we forget that to be a disciple of Jesus one must be a learner! We get so busy telling people what "they" need or ought to do, we forget to discern what we need to be doing in our own vocations of discipleship.

I continue to ask myself if the Church has become irrelevant.
But maybe it's simply become too learned for its own good.
I continue to believe the meek will inherit the earth.
Perhaps the stance of remaining a learner is simply being meek enough to admit one doesn't know it all.

One Week Until Lent!

"Instead of making anything new, the ego simpy repeats patterns."

-- Sonia Choquette

I've been pondering the above quote since happening upon it in a book yesterday during my morning reading. The sentence called me up short and stopped me in my tracks. How many patterns do I continue to repeat, mindlessly moving from one to the next, in some sort of unreflective circle dance?

The more I thought about it, the more I recognized my own recipe for repeating patterns:

A bit of drama here.
A pinch of self-criticism there.
A dash of self-justification.
A splash of selfishness.
Sprinkle liberally with guilt.
Add a bundle of self-righteousness.
Stir with pride (often disguised as "humility").
Bring to a boil with manipulation.
And presto!

Something I've tasted time and time again --
Regret.
Perhaps Lent isn't as much about giving things up
As it is about changing things up.

Still Preaching

"Whenever the Christian community gains worldly power, it nearly always loses its capacity to be the critic of the power and influence it so readily brokers" -- The Rev. Peter Gomes

Peter Gomes, for years the preacher for Harvard University's non-denominational Memorial Church, died earlier today. He was in his late 60's. Gomes was a true "pulpiteer". He cultivated the eloquence and intellectual air that could get him a fair hearing from those not totally convinced about preaching's value on the grounds of a secular university. He also could spin a down-home story with the best of them. I only heard Gomes preach in person once, and from an "entertainment" perspective, he did not disappoint, but the way I most "know" his work is through his writings -- several books and collections of sermons.

Many would no doubt, refer to Gomes as a classic social-justice, progressive Christian thinker. Some employ that description as a compliment to his work. Others would use such a description as a judgment of it. My guess is, Gomes would simply say he was doing his best to live out the call of spreading the Good News to all God's people -- regardless of socio-economic class, race, gender or orientation.

The quote from Gomes at the beginning of this post has been with me for years. It reminds me not to get too comfortable with the trappings of respectability and to pay particular attention to the seduction of power and influence. I'm not sure how Gomes managed to walk that tightrope at Harvard. That's for someone else to say. But for this preacher, keeping another preacher's challenge before me has aided my own perspective about the preaching task. That quote keeps me honest. It reminds me that I must continue to learn how to follow Jesus in the way of the Cross even as I preach to others about the life-giving necessity of doing the same.

Thanks Peter! May you rest in peace and rise in glory.