Dancing to God

A Must See!

2012-01-13T08:30:00.000-06:00

Lectionary Passage: John 1: 43-46 (47-51)
The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.”Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter.Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.”Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”

At the risk of overusing movie metaphors, I saw an advertisement for a movie that touted that the critics had dubbed it "a must see." We all know what that means. It means that someone is telling us that we need to try to find time to go see this movie, that perhaps our lives will be more enriched by the very act of taking the time to watch a movie. It doesn't mean that it's inviting us to rewrite it or recast it or, for that matter, even critique it. It doesn't mean that there's going to be a quiz at the end of it to make sure that we understood it in the way that the writer intended. And it's not even maintaining that we have to commit every line and every scene to permanent memory. It's inviting us to simply come, to put down what we're doing and quit worrying about what we're not doing, if only for a couple of hours, and come experience it. It's inviting us to come and see. And the claim is that in some small way, our lives might be enriched by the act.

The Scripture that is used here is only part of our lectionary Gospel passage for this week. But in this short segment, we meet Nathanael. Most of us don't know much about him. After all, he was never part of the "Big 12" as far as we can tell. But that usually didn't matter much to the Gospel writer that we know as John. In this version of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the notion of "disciple" is broader than Jesus' inner crowd. You see, Nathanael is a whole lot like us. He wanted to understand who this Christ was and, yet, it didn't make sense to him. Shouldn't there be something more? Shouldn't this be obvious? How can anything this incredible come out of this little nothing town? After all, in the first century, Nazareth wasn't much. There was no Roman settlement there which means, more than likely, that there was little work. In fact, you wonder how a carpenter family even eeked out a living there. It was probably just a couple of houses, a blip on a map. It was nothing anyone would ever really want to see. Yes, Nathanael was trying to make sense of this, to put it into a perspecive that made sense to him. He was trying to take this Presence of God that was beyond anything that he could imagine fit into his notion of who God was. But Philip's response was simply, "Nathanael, just come and see." In other words, put down all of your preconceived ideas of who you think God should be and what you think God should look like and from where you think God should come, and just come and experience the Presence of God.

I don't think that Philip was promising that Nathanael would see something tangible that would prove the existence of God. After all, "seeing" is not limited to what we do with our eyes. Philip is instead offering Nathanael the experience of God. But in order to experience God, to "come and see", one has to put everything else aside. We cannot see God by listening to something else; we cannot see God when our hands are holding too tightly to what we think we need; and we cannot see God when our minds are so full of who we think God should be. We're not being called to figure God out or know everything there is about God. You know what? We're not even called to be perfect renditions of what God envisions we should be. I think God's a lot more filled with grace than we give God credit for being. And I don't think we're called to be "godly" people. I hate that word. Being "like God" is really God's area! Shhhhh! Just come and see.

Last week's lectionary passages included the first few lines of Genesis. We read of God's spirit "sweeping over the face of the waters." In other words, God's Presence was not just standing beside or standing over Creation. God's Presence washed over Creation, consumed it, made it part of the Divine. We are no different. Seeing God is about letting God's Spirit sweep over you. It is about experiencing God in every fabric of your being. Joseph Wood Krutch said that "the rare moment is not the moment when there is something worth looking at, but the moment when we are capable of seeing." So, for all of us who are waiting for that one incredible moment when we finally see God, stop. Just come and see. It's a "must see"!

What is right now so important, to what are you holding so tightly, and what are you doing now that means you cannot come and see?

The Days That Come After

2012-01-09T06:00:00.001-06:00

In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. (Genesis 1: 1-5)

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased. (Mark 1: 9-11)

I saw a movie trailer for a new movie called "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close," which is apparently a story of a young boy's life after his father is killed in the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The trailer ends with these words written on the screen: "This is not a story about 9/11; it is a story about the days that come after." I thought that was a very profound statement. After all, do we sometimes focus so much on specific times and specific days that we lose what it means to live the rest of them? In some way, living a life of faith means getting beyond endings. Maybe it even means getting beyond beginnings. It means doing something with all of them as part of the totality of life.

Yesterday we remembered the Baptism of Jesus and through that also remembered our own. And our lectionary readings for the day included the first five verses of Genesis. We all know that it is the beginning of the story of Creation, the beginning of life, the beginning of our own beginnings. But, truth be told, it wasn't the beginning of EVERYTHING. After all, it says that before it all, the earth did exist. It's just that it was a formless, shapeless void. Perhaps it was a chaotic mass of swirling, meaningless matter. And then God Said. Those are the most powerful words imaginable. With one simple statement, God creates order, shape, life. As God's Spirit sweeps over the waters, meaningless matter becomes earth. It is not perfect; it is not the way it will be; it is the way it should be. It is good.

But we know it doesn't stop there. The days go one and God creates sky, and land, and seas. Then, rather than directly creating (we sometimes gloss over this), God appoints the earth to start creating, to bring forth vegetation. God calls Creation to create. Then God creates suns, and moons, and animals, and us. And then, as the pinnacle of Creation, God creates Sabbath rest, completion, a taste of eternity. You see, it doesn't stop at "in the beginning". The days that come after are what makes Creation the way it was intended to be.

And in those days that Creation continued, once again God's Spirit moved over the waters. And this time, the heavens were torn apart (not opened, but violently ripped apart in a way that they could never go back together in the same way), and God's Spirit decended. And once again, God spoke: "You are my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Once again, God Said. It is good.

The days that come after are the days. Beginnings and endings are only markers, turning points, crosswalks. We are told to "remember our baptism and be thankful." Truth be told, I don't remember mine. I was just a baby. But remembering is not about the beginning; it is about the days afterward. So, as people of faith, what will we do with those days afterward? Faith is not about baptism; it is about the days that come after.

What will you do with your days that come after?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

P.S. As a programming note, I'm going to try to post a blog entry twice a week or so during this Season of Epiphany and then return to daily posts during our Lenten journey. Thanks for staying with me! Shelli

Beginning the Journey

2012-01-06T21:32:00.001-06:00

Whew! It's over--this season of running and shopping and baking and wrapping and giving and getting and dressing and partying and, oh yeah, worshipping the Christ who has come! Now we can go back to normal. Whew! It's over! But what is the deal with all this light around? Really? So what was the point? Truth be told, as Christmas is the celebration of God's coming, Epiphany is the manifestation of our going. Epiphany is the beginning of the journey. So, in other words, don't get too comfortable! There is work to do!

This season of Epiphany probably gets sort of glossed over. I don't know, maybe we're tired. Maybe we've eaten too much or run too much or just too much-ed. Or maybe we just don't understand what it's about. Epiphany is about making Jesus real, making the Christ child part of your life. It is about doing beginning to travel down a road that you've never traveled before.

We know the story of the Wisemen, those learned ones who came to pay homage to the new king. I suppose it was just a politically correct fulfillment of accepted etiquette. There was a new king in town and they would greet him and give him the proper gifts and perhaps he would remember them in the future. (And in the meantime, perhaps the press would treat them kindly in this politically volatile season!) It was, after all, the proper and the smart thing to do. But instead, something happened. Perhaps it was the star; perhaps it was the king; perhaps it was some sort of divine inspiration. But, whatever it was, these wandering souls got it. They saw a pathway that was different than the one that they were on, they saw where God was calling them to go. And so they went home by another way.

Many of you have heard the Henry Van Dyke story of “The Other Wise Man”. It is the story of a magi named Artaban, who waited impatiently for the star to shine so that he could travel with the other magi to see the new king. In fact, he had sold all of his possessions and bought three jewels—a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl—to give to the new baby king. And, then, he finally saw what he had been waiting for as the dark eastern sky was filled with light. He hurried to join his friends so that he could meet the king. But on the way, he came upon the form of a man lying on the side of the road, motionless and dying. He knew that if he stayed to help the dying stranger, he would miss meeting the Messiah. So, with a heavy heart, he stayed and cared for the man until his strength returned. And in return, the man, a Jew, blessed his travel to Bethlehem, where he told him the king had actually been born. So, left behind by the others, Artaban was forced to sell the sapphire, buy a train of camels, and provisions for the journey.

But he arrived there three days after the others had departed. He entered a cottage and found a young mother singing her baby to sleep. And quietly, the woman told him that the new king and his family had fled secretly in the night. Suddenly there was a noise outside as Herod’s soldiers came for the child. Artaban went to the doorway and met the soldiers, telling them that he was alone in the house. When the soldier did not believe him, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his ruby and gave it to him. The soldiers went away. The woman blessed him.

Artaban spent his life searching for the king. In all this world of anguish, he found many to help, but no one to worship. He fed the hungry, clothed the naked, healed the sick, and comforted those in despair. Thirty-three years later, he came for the last time to Jerusalem and was met with a flurry of activity as the city prepared to crucify Jesus of Nazareth. On hearing this, Artaban knew that this was what he was called to do. The pearl, the last of his riches, could be offered as ransom for the king’s life. It was then that a young slave girl was dragged through the streets and threw herself at Artaban’s feet. Save me, she begged, they are going to kill me. He sadly took the pearl from his pocket. It gleamed with radiance as he handed it to the girl so that she could buy her life. The earth began to shake around him; the sky darkened; and it was then that a heavy tile hit Artaban on the head. As he lay there, the slave girl bent over him to try to hear what he was saying. It was then that she heard a faint voice from above—“verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.” A calm radiance came over Artaban’s face and he breathed one last breath. His journey had ended. His treasures were accepted. He had met the King many, many times.

Well, obviously, this is fiction. There's no basis to it. It's not Scriptural. But the point is that we are the other wisemen. We are the ones called to the work. We are the ones that will meet the King. Maybe we will see it to fruition; more than likely, we will not. The point is that it's not about the end-result. It's about the journey. It's about making the Christ-child real in your lives. It's about meeting the King. But more than that, it's about getting it! It's about making it real. It's about letting the Light illumine your life.

God came and the Light shined into our midst.

We are called to follow, to walk in the way illumined by the Light.
Let us follow the Light as it guides us on our journey.
Let us follow the Light as it leads us to Life.
So, in this season of Epiphany, make the newborn Christ real in your life! There is work to be done!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The First Day: And Heaven and Nature Sing!

2011-12-25T06:19:00.001-06:00

Joy to the World , the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven and nature sing,
And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the World, the Savior reigns!
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders, of His love.

(Isaac Watts, 1719)

The day has dawned! Sometime in the night, God tiptoed into the world and made a home. And the world will never be the same again. Most of us barely noticed. Most of the world wakes this morning and goes on with their lives. That's OK. If God had wanted fanfare, then I supposed God would have come with a bit more flourish and drama. But instead, God enters as one of us, quietly slipping the Divine into our midst with as little noise as possible. (Although I suppose it's hard to enter quietly with a multitude of angels in tow!)

When Isaac Watts first wrote the familiar Christmas carol "Joy to the World", he didn't mean for it to be a carol at all. The words were originally written to celebrate the triumphant second coming of Christ rather than the birth that we celebrate this morning. I think that's the reason it works, though. God's coming into the world is not merely something that happened more than 2,000 years ago. Today is not the celebration of the anniversary of Jesus' birth as if it is some sort of historic relic that we hold; rather, today--THIS day--IS the coming of God into our midst, the realization that even now, Heaven is spilling into our lives, making a home, and Heaven and Nature are singing together.

God comes quietly, tiptoeing into our lives each and every day of our existence. A new Light has dawned and every day is Christmas! So when the Holy and Sacred dawn in our life, are we called to join in loud acclaim, or are we called to silently open our our lives and let the Divine spill in? With all respect to Mr. Watts, I'm not a big watcher of the "Second Coming" of Christ. I don't know what that looks like and the Scriptures are not that specific about it. I think the point of Christmas is that the Lord is come! God came quietly into our world as the Christ child more than 2,000 years ago. It was the First Day of the new dawn. And the Light has been rising each every day since. And for every heart that quietly opens and makes room for God to tiptoe in and make a home, the Light becomes brighter. Rather than waiting for God's coming, let us see that God is here. Let us see that every day is Christmas. (And, along the same lines, perhaps every day is the triumphant coming for which we are looking until God's Kingdom and the recreation of all is complete!) Joy to the World! The Lord is come!

The Lord is come! Let us now go and see this thing that has taken place!

On this First Day of Christmas, open the gift of the Holy and the Sacred, the gift of the Christchild and then open your heart that you might prepare room for God to come each and every day!

Merry Christmas!

Shelli

Maybe This Night Will Be The Night

2011-12-24T07:36:00.001-06:00

"The Nativity"
Lorenzo Lotto, 1523
National Gallery of Art
Washington D.C., USA

Luke 2: 1-14 (KJV)
And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Mary and Joseph have arrived. The crowds are almost too much to take, pushing and crushing as the couple makes their way through them. Mary doesn't feel well. She really needs to just lie down and rest. And when you don't feel well, the last place you want to be is somewhere that is not home, somewhere foreign, somewhere so crowded, so unwelcoming.  They need to hurry. There is not too much time left.

They stop at a small inn up on the hill overlooking the shepherds' pastures down below. Joseph leaves Mary for a moment and goes to make arrangements for a place to stay. But when he returns, his face looks frustrated, almost in tears. He tells Mary that the inn is full. In fact, the whole town is full. There is no place to stay. There is no room. But he tells Mary that the innkeeper has given them permission to at least go into the stableroom to keep warm. He's freshening the hay now. Well, it will have to do.

You know, I think the innkeeper gets a bad wrap. I mean, was he supposed to kick someone else out? And consider this:  This was not the Hilton. It probably wouldn't even qualify as a roadside motel. It was probably just a couple of small beds in the innkeeper's home. And first century houses were often just a room or maybe two of actual living quarters anyway. The second or third room was attached to the house and used to house the animals that were so much a part of their life. No one in this small town would have owned a large "ranch" estate. The stable probably wasn't "out back" the way we think. It was part of the home.  So the innkeeper was possibly, on some level, bringing Mary and Joseph, bringing strangers, into his home. What that means is that the Divine came into the world because someone acted human. Isn't that amazing?

So Mary and Joseph entered the stableroom and, surrounded by animals, tried to get some rest.   They could still hear the crowded city outside. They could hear the Roman guards yelling as they tried to control the crowds. It made the place feel every more foreign, even more foreboding. But directly overhead, was the brightest star they had ever seen. It was as if the tiny little stable was being bathed in light. So Mary laid down and closed her eyes. She knew that the time was almost here. She knew that the baby was coming into the world.

And on this night of nights, into a cold, dirty stable in a small town filled with yelling and pushing crowds, into a place occupied by soldiers, into a place that did not feel like home, into a world that had no room, God comes. The door to the Divine swings open and God and all of heaven burst into our little world, flooding it with Light and Life. And yet, the child in the manger bathed in light, the very Incarnation of the Divine, Emmanuel, God With Us, the Messiah, is, still, one of us. God takes the form of one of us--just an ordinary human--a human like you and me--to show us what it means to be one of us, to be human, to be made in the image of God.

God comes into a world that is unprepared for God, that has no room for God. God comes into places that are unclean, unworthy, unacceptable for us, much less for the Divine. God comes into places that most of us would not go, out of fear of the other, out of fear of the unknown, out of fear of the darkness. And there God makes a home. The Divine begins to pour into the world and with it a vision of the world pouring into the Divine. This night, though, is not the pinnacle of our lives but, rather, the beginning. God comes, bathed in Light, in the humblest of disguises immagineable, into the lowliest of places we know, into the darkest night of the soul, that we might finally know that all of the world is of God, all of the world is bathed in the Divine. God comes so that we might finally see life as we are called to see it and live life as we are called to live it, filled with mercy and compassion and awareness of our connectedness to all the world. God comes so that we might finally be human, so that we might finally make room.

Perhaps the world will never be completely ready for God. If God waited for us to be completely prepared, God would never come at all. But this God doesn't need our preparation. This God doesn't need to come into a place that is cleaned up and sanitized for God. Instead, God comes when and where God comes. God comes into godforsakenness, into a world that is occupied by foreignness, where the need for God is the greatest, into a world that cries out for justice and peace, and there God makes a home. God comes into the darkness and bathes it in light.

The time is almost here. In just a few hours the door to the Divine will swing open and God and all of heaven will burst into the world. If you stop and listen, just for a moment, you can hear the harps eternal in the distance as they approach our lives. Can't you feel it? Doors opening, light flooding in, the earth filled with a new vision of hope and peace. Maybe, just maybe, tonight will be different. Maybe this is the night that the world chooses peace and justice and love. Maybe this is the night that the world takes joy. Maybe this is the night when the world realizes that it is already filled with the Divine. Maybe this is the night when we become human. Maybe this is the night that we make room.

O holy Child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray;

Cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today.

We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell;

O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel!

(Phillips Brooks)

On this night of nights, give yourself the gift of making room for God. Give yourself the gift of being human. Give yourself the gift of making this night the beginning of God's coming into the world.

Merry Christmas!

Shelli

And Hear the Angels Sing!

2011-12-23T04:00:00.085-06:00

"But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though youa are small
among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one
who will be ruler over Israel, whose origins are from of old,
from ancient times." (Micah 5:2)

The day is almost upon us. We've got presents wrapped and under the tree and your kitchen probably smells like the cookies that just came out of the oven (or perhaps a tastefully-chosen cinnamon and eggnog candle that mimics the same effect.) Here at St. Paul's, we're approaching the end of the week of frenzy that has included a mad scramble to make sure we have all the information for the 9,846 different bulletins that are needed over the next few weeks. (Well, maybe that's a gross exageration, but you get the idea!) Plans are in place. I think we're ready...

Really? We do this every year. We walk through Christmas sort of like we're preparing for a very familiar play. The sets are in place; the costumes are ironed; the lines are memorized. In those days a decree went out... Mary and Joseph get to Bethlehem at the appropriate time and the innkeeper, following the lines, tells them that there's no room. The baby shows up on cue and we light our candles and sing Silent Night and then hang around with the shepherds while we wait a week for The Wisemen to make their appearance. And then we go back to our lives. Really? So, how's that mystery thing working for you?

God doesn't usually show up on cue or in the way we've planned for God to show up. Perhaps God shows up when we've gone back to our lives. God tends to show up not where the beckoning is loudest but where the need is greatest. God comes when our questions are so overwhelming that we begin to doubt and gives the Divine a face and a name. God comes when the world is not prepared, when the world, mired in oppression and poverty and greed, has not yet gotten around to cleaning itself up and making itself presentable, when the world has made no room and so God makes a home in a place that we assumed was downright godforsaken and bathes it in light. God comes into our darkness and illumines our way. God comes in mystery not to confuse us or make it harder to believe but to give us a taste of the transcendent mystery and amazing miracle that is part of us all. God will come when and where and in the way that God will come. And more than likely it will be outside of the box we've built for God. When you realize that you do not know, it is there that you will finally see Emmanuel, the God who has been with us the whole time. Rainer Maria Rilke said to "have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. The point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps, then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

Mary and Joseph are close to Bethlehem. The roads are getting busier and the dust is making it harder to see. It's like traveling in darkness. They are tired. It would be nice to have a soft bed. And they do not know what is up ahead. They do not know what the future holds. Let it be according to your Word!

And ye, beneath life's crushing load, Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing:
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.

(Edmund H. Sears, 1849)

On this day before Christmas Eve, give yourself the gift of mystery. Let go of your preconceptions (and even your regrets!) about what Christmas holds and what you've planned Christmas to be and hear the angels sing!

Recollection

2011-12-22T10:40:00.000-06:00

Last night was the longest night of the year, when the earth's axis tips the farthest away from the sustaining light of the sun. In our part of the world, we experienced nearly fourteen hours of darkness. Known as the Winter Solstice, it also means that winter has officially begun. Last night was our Service of the Longest Night, which we have every year. It is a service of acknowledging sorrow in the midst of celebration, grief in the midst of happiness, and light in the midst of darkness. It is a service that reminds us that God is in all of life.

Recollection, in the context of one's spiritual walk, means attention to the presence of God in one's life. Living a recollected life has little to do with happiness or calm. It's not about things always going our way. It's certainly not about God answering all our prayers in the way we think they need to be answered. Living a recollected life means living a life that is balanced and enduring. It means being alive. It means knowing in the deepest part of our souls that God is with us and that there is always something more than what we see.

As I sat in last night's service, I couldn't help but look back over the last year. Some of those who came up to the altar to light a candle were those with whom I had walked through the most profound loss and grief imagineable. But I have also held brand new life in my arms and celebrated the hope and promise that comes with that. In the last months, I have been with those who are staring death in the face and those who in that very moment were crossing the line between earthly life and the next journey. (And we sang!) You would assume that that range of experiences comes with being a pastor. It does, but I think that, more importantly, it comes with being human, being fully human. Being fully means being totally immersed in the full range of humanity--sorrow and happiness, grief and celebration, life and death. And in it all is joy--not happiness, which is momentary and fleeting--but true, profound, abiding joy.

This morning I watched an interview with another pastor from Houston (who shall remain nameless but whose initiatls are J.O.) who depicted the Spirit of Christmas as happiness. Well, I will say that I respectfully disagree. The Spirit of Christmas, the Spirit of Christ's coming, is not to bring us happiness and health. Those are temporary, fleeting. God was born into this world as human, as fully human, set to experience the full range of humanity. God brought the Divine Presence into all those things. And, there, was joy--abiding, eternal, neverending joy! (And we sang!)

Being fully human means being recollected, seeing the Presence of God in all things and all things in the Presence of God. Only three more days to go! The air is so thick with the Presence of God you can almost touch it. I suppose that's the whole point. For what are you waiting? Recollect yourself. Become fully human. There's a baby coming! And take joy!

The day is almost here! Gift yourself the gift of recollection. Take all that you are and that you have, the full range of who you are, and begin traveling to Bethlehem. Give yourself the gift of joy, no matter how happy your life is at the moment!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

For the Sake of the World

2011-12-21T04:00:00.001-06:00

Mary and Joseph have been traveling for a couple of days. It's so hard. The days are sweltering; the nights are cold. The wind hasn't stopped. It's just that time of year. Why are we doing this? Why are we trying so hard to do the right thing?

The truth is, "God With Us? " is just sometimes a little uncomfortable. How can we comfortably live our lives with Emmanuel hanging around? I mean, really, what are we supposed to do? I saw a bumper sticker several years ago that said, "God is coming; Look busy!" You laugh (because, granted, it's funny!), but isn't that what many of us think deep down? No matter what we say intellectually (that God is with us, that God is everywhere, that God is everything), the truth is that we STILL sort of think of God as some sort of far-away supervisor that is "up there" keeping score of our lives.

Maybe that's the point! Maybe Emmanuel, God With Us, means that we ARE to get busy, that we ARE supposed to do something. Maybe God just got tired of being relegated to scorekeeper and wanted to show us how to play the game! The miracle of God's coming is not about a manger, or a star, or a baby. It's not about whether or not Mary was a literal virgin or not! (Really, does it matter that much?) And it's DEFINITELY not about making sure that we buy each person the same number of presents! The miracle of God's coming is that the Divine, conceived as removed and secure from the muck of the world, poured into our midst. God came that the world might change and that we might change along with it.

So do I know Jesus Christ as my personal savior? (OK, I'll probably get in trouble here!) God didn't come in the form of Jesus to be my brother, or my friend, or even my personal savior. God came for the sake of the world. God came bursting into the struggles of this world so that people like me would wake up, recollect myself, and go forward to do what God calls me to do. God came that we might be for the other. In all truth, the meaning of Emmanuel, God With Us, is that God's coming means that it is time for us to go to others, to the world, to wherever God is calling us to go. God's coming is our call to going. We hear it over and over in the Scriptures that will come after this story as the child grows and enters ministry--"rise, take up your bed and go home," "you give them something to eat," "love your enemies," "let your light shine," "love one another," "take, eat," "they know not what they do." These are as much a part of the Christmas story as "in those days, a decree went out...", or "laid in a manger," or "no room in the inn." In fact, this is the way that Emmanuel comes over and over and over again. God came to us as "fully human" and yet still remains as "fully divine." Both are made in the image of God, the image of the God's unfailing and unfathomable grace in the world.

So, is Jesus my personal savior? For the sake of the world, I pray so. It's not about being on my best behavior; it's about birthing the Savior of the world into the world for the world.

Lift up your heads, ye mighty gate; behold the King of glory waits;
the King of kings is drawing near; the Savior of the world is here.

Fling wide the portals of your heart; make it a temple, set apart
from earthly use for heaven's employ, adorned with prayer and love and joy.

Redeemer, come, with us abide; our hearts to thee we open wide;
let us thy inner presence feel; thy grace and love in us reveal.

Thy Holy Spirit lead us on until our glorious goal is won;
eternal praise, eternal fame be offered, Savior, to thy name.

(Georg Weissel, 1642, trans. by Catherine Winkworth,, 1855)

God is coming! Give yourself the gift of being God With Us, of being God in the world! Give yourself the gift of making Jesus your personal Savior by being Christ for the sake of the world.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

So What, Exactly, Were You Expecting?

2011-12-20T04:00:00.003-06:00

What were we expecting? Well, of course, we were expecting someone obvious, someone who would make himself known in the world, someone who is a little bit better than you or I. We were expecting power and might and grandiose presentation. But instead God walked into our very human existence. God traversed time and space and the perceived separation between the sacred and the ordinary and entered our everyday world. On some level, that bothers many of us. After all, we are trying to do BETTER than this; we are aspiring to be more than human. What in the world is God doing messing around in the muck of this world?

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said that "by virtue of the creation and, still more, of the Incarnation, nothing here below is profane for those who know how to see." So, perhaps God came into this very ordinary world to show us the holiness that has been created, the sacredness that in our worldliness, we were somehow missing. Perhaps God steps into our lives to show us the depth that we haven't dared to dig into our lives. Perhaps God came and walked with us not to show us how to be but to show us how to see. But when it's all said and done, this practice we have of "looking for God" has been proven bizarre. After all, it was never God that was lost! We were never separated from the sacred; we just missed seeing it because it wasn't what we were expecting. So, again, what were we expecting? Maybe the the whole lesson is that God will come when and where and in the way that God will come. But if there's a "pattern" to be figured out about this God who cannot be figured out, it's that God comes into the unexpected, into the unplanned, and into the unprepared places in our lives and lays down in a feed trough and patiently waits for the world to wake up and notice.

Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to sety thy people free, from our fears and sins release us, let us find our rest in thee. Israel's strength and consolation, hope of all the earth thou art, dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.

Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a King, born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring.
By thine own eternal spirit rule in all our hearts alone; by thine own sufficient merit, raise us to thy glorious throne.

(Charles Wesley, 1744)

In these final days of Advent, we are all busy preparing for the day of God's coming. But whether or not we get it done, whether or not the house is clean or the goodies are baked or the presents are wrapped, God will come and the world will never be the same. Expectation is about moving into what will be rather than preparing to bring it into what is.

What are you expecting? That's probably not it! Give yourself the gift of being open to the way that God comes without expecting it to happen in a certain way!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

2011-12-19T07:24:00.000-06:00

"Journey to Bethlehem"
Joseph Brickey, ca. 1973

So, what does it mean to say "God With us"? The name, Immanuel, that the child is to be given is a symbolic name, a short Hebrew sentence. We like the idea of God being here to pull us out of our next quandry in life in which we will find ourselves. But isn't it more than that? God has finally, after an entire history of generations of humanity, sought us out. In essence, God put aside, if only for a little while, all God-liness, to come and join our little world. God breaks into humanity not with a triumphant shout but into one of the lowliest, one of the most god-forsaken, one of the most human places of all. Our image of this patriarchal God sitting on a golden throne somewhere up in the clouds looking down upon this struggling world just doesn't work anymore. The God who we could not see, the God who we could not name, the God into whose face we could not look or surely we would die has just become one of us. So what do we do now?

When I was little, I used to lay in bed (when I was supposed to be asleep) and think about the notion of God being "everywhere". Well that was something that I just couldn't get my head around. I mean, there had to be limits. There had to be a place where God could not see me. So I would pull the covers over my head and try to figure out if God could see me there. We all do that, if only figuratively. Oh, we SAY that God is with us, we SAY that God walks with us, but then we try to find a temporary hiding place from this God who is "up there" or "out there" or wharever "there" we think God is. After all, it's kind of like living with your boss, isn't it? I saw a bumper sticker a couple of years ago that read "God is coming. Look busy!" Oh, we laugh, because it's way too close to the way we think! I mean, we're all so wrapped up in our lives. There's just so little time. There's just too much going on! And the world is changing so rapidly. It's not like it used to be. But we'll keep working to get to God. Well, SURPRISE! God came to us. Not only that, God came WITH us, entering into the bottom of our house of cards that is our world. So, it seems now, "getting to God" is really no longer necessary. Maybe we just have to open our eyes, and hold out our hand, and, oh yeah, it helps if you don't have the covers pulled over your head!

Modern-Day Israel just outside of the Region of Galilee

Mary and Joseph are journeying toward Bethlehem, silently walking through the dust and sands. This trip was not convenient but they had no choice. It normally takes four days or so but it is difficult for Mary to travel. The world is crazy right now, busy and spinning out of control. Everything is changing. There is talk of some unrest and some skirmishes up ahead. This is not the time to be traveling. This trip is dangerous. But they have to keep going. There's a baby coming!

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel,
that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O Come, thou Wisdom, from on high, and order all things far and nigh;
to us the path of knowledge show and cause us in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, O come, great Lord of might, who to thy tribes on Sinai's height
in ancient times once gave the law in cloud and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, thou Root of Jesse's tree, an ensign of thy people be;
before thee rulers silent fall; all people on thy mercy call.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home.
The captives from their prison free, and conquer death's deep misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, thou Dayspring, come an dcheer our spirity by they justice here;
disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

O come, Desire of nations bind all people in one heart and mind.
From dust thought brought us forth to life; deliver us from earthly strife.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

(9th century Latin, with translations by Laurence Hull Stookey; vs. 2 by Henry Sloane Coffin, 1916)

The time is almost here! In this final week of Advent, give yourself the gift of pulling away everything that clouds your view that you might see the God who Comes.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Right Side Up

2011-12-18T18:55:00.000-06:00

As we light the fourth candle on the Advent wreath today, we began to be aware that things are changing. Christmas is only a week away. The world leans toward the light just a bit, if only a bit, trying to get a glimpse, trying to see what is coming. And as the world leans toward the coming of Christ, we are aware that something is not quite right. We are aware that perhaps this is not the way the world is supposed to be after all.

When I was little, I used to love to hang upside down. Things looked different. I saw things that I had not seen before. And then I would turn myself right side up, a little dizzy, perhaps even a little nauseous, but better for the view. God came into this world to show us a different way, to show us that we have somehow, perhaps without really noticing, without really intending it to happen at all, tipped the world upside down. We have elevated wealth; we have allowed hunger; we have awarded the powerful with more power and have not always paid attention to the compassionate and just part of us. We have allowed the world to tip over and then we have set up house on an upside-down world. So, God comes. God comes to right the world. Our inclination is to hold on, to grasp and claw our way back to what we think is the way up. But instead God invites us to just go with it, to turn ourselves right just as the world is turning. Sometimes it is painful. Sometimes we get dizzy and maybe even a little nauseous. After all, change is hard. We might have to give up something that we think is precious to us. And so we hold on. We hold on for dear life. And all the while God is calling us to open our hands that we might receive what God is giving us.

As this final week of Advent begins, we are called to learn to let go. If all was right with the world, then God would have come wealthy and gold-laden with the power of the world in tow. But that's not the way it happened at all. God instead slipped in when most of us weren't looking, when most of us were busy making our lives, slippsed into the bowels of the world. God chose to come into poverty and helplessness to show us it means for everything to be right with the world. And God, in God's infinite wisdom, knows how to show us how to stand and walk and even hang upside down once in awhile on this up-turned world and finally, finally, see the way to go.

Shhhh! You can almost hear them--a faint sound of bells in the distance. And the world seems to be leaning toward them, tipping just a bit. Do not hold on; do not stay behind. Just dance with the music and move toward the Light that is just about to dawn.

I cannot create the light. The best I can do is put myself in the path of its beam. (Annie Dillard)

In this final week of Advent, give yourself the gift of letting go--letting go of all your preconceptions, letting go of all those things that you think your life would not be complete without--and letting God right you with the world.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 4B: The Holiest of Words

2011-12-17T08:33:00.000-06:00

Lectionary Gospel Text: Luke 1: (26-27) 28-38
And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.”Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Of course, this was not in the plan. She was supposed to get married, have children, and live our her life in quiet anonymity with the quiet and little-known Joseph. She knew what her life was going to hold. So, when God's Presence suddenly is revealed, breaking into her quietly-orchestrated little world, of course she was afraid. After all, things were never going to be the same. There would be no going back and the way forward was murky at best. And so, Mary hesitates, if only for a moment. The angel, God, all of Creation, the existence of all who would come after her, hangs, suspended, not moving. The world stops, straining to hear the Word. Things would never be the same again. History was at this moment shifting and swaying, not sure of what it would become. So, she takes a breath--one last breath as the quiet girl Mary. And with a voice that shakes all of eternity, she responds, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." "YES." Nothing would ever be the same again.

On some level, the word "Yes" is perhaps the holiest word of all. It is what changes things; it is what moves us forward; it is our response on this journey that we call faith; it is our way to God. God calls us, asking us to go a different way, to change our lives and shift our plans, and for one step, or one lifetime, or one eternity, to follow a sacred road that we did not see before. For this child Mary, when the mystery of God broke into her consciousness, into her plans, she probably did hesitate. Good grief, who wouldn't? Don't you think God expects that to be our initial response? I mean, you'd have to be completely naive or so incredibly self-absorbed and arrogant to not know what was happening to you. But Mary was anything but naive and nothing near arrogant. She DID know. Oh, not the details. She didn't know how this would alter not only her world, not only her community, but all worlds and communities that ever were and ever would be. She didn't know how difficult and frustrating her life would be. She didn't know that a little more than three decades later, she would be standing at the foot of two cross-boards helplessly watching this life that she was bringing into the world slip away. She didn't know how incredibly blessed she would be. She didn't know what she would become--the lovely subject of artists and sculptors, the namesake of great cathedrals and small house churches, the mother of the world. She didn't know. She just knew that it was the way that was hers. So, yes. "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

Christmas Eve is only a week away, when the wildly spinning world will stop, if only for a moment and once again welcome hope and peace into the world. But that moment is not the holiest one. The holiest moment of all is the one that comes next, the one that after the initial hesitation, after the initial, "How can this be?", when we put down our carefully-packed baggage filled with plans and preconceptions, when we open our closed minds and and our cynical hearts, and become virgin enough to birth the Christ into our little world. It is the moment when we say "Yes", knowing that it will change us forever. "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me
Shine until tomorrow, let it be
I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be
There will be an answer, let it be
Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

("Let it Be", Words by John Lennon and Paul McCartney, 1970)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0X_Gd1y2MFo&feature=related

"Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word."

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being virgin enough to move forward, of being open to birthing the Christ into your life, of forming the holy and the sacred on your lips and then speaking the "Yes" that God and the whole world is waiting for you to speak.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Frenzied

2011-12-16T04:00:00.001-06:00

Well, it's about that time! TEN MORE D AYS!!! 20% OFF ONE DAY ONLY!!! FREE SHIPPING TODAY ONLY! FIRST 100 CUSTOMERS RECEIVE A FREE ______________ [I don't know, just fill in the blank!] The truth is, we are frenzied! We live at a frenzied pace with which, truth be known, none of us can keep up. I think about my last couple of days. I made cheesecakes on Monday night for a staff party. Tuesday night, the fully Type A in me made a list of what I needed to do in the next ten days. Really? A list? Last night I talked to a friend on the phone for way too long, which means the list is already thrown way off. And today? Well, first of all, I found out late in the day that google had somehow "mediated" my post from today, which means I had to TELL it that it was not spam. (OK, really, would I "spam" myself?) I think it's just a conspiracy to keep us from dancing! (Anyway, sorry about that!)

But, think about it--we're probably not the first people on the planet to live frenzied. Think back--"Joseph, you'll need to spend the next few days and take off from your carpenter's job and pop over to Bethlehem to pay this new tax that we've concocted. We hope that works for you. Oh? Your wife is about to go into labor? And, really, she is birthing the salvation of the world, the Son of the God, the Messiah? Well, that's great, but you still need to pay your taxes on time or we can garnish your wages or take your house or throw you into once of those new Roman prisons." And so they went--Mary and Joseph, supposedly on a donkey or a mule or something of the like. They arrived in Bethlehem. But apparently everyone had gotten the same notice. Do you believe all this traffic? Why didn't we make a reservation? (Oh, really, Joseph? What were you thinking?) Where is that first century Groupon when you need it? Mary, I know this is hard. I PROMISE that I will find a place for us to spend the night. You're WHAT? NOW? Are you kidding me?

We all know the story. There would be no room. There would be frenzy. And so we made do. We took what we could get--a sort of back room filled with hay and cast-off blankets. It was filled with animals cowering from the cold. And there Jesus was born into the frenzy of the world. Truth be known--there was never calm but there was always peace. But the point is that God still came--came into the frenzy of the world. God does not wait until everything is calm and together. God does not come because you have all the decorations up (I think most of mine will again stay packed away in storage); God does not come because you finally have all the gifts wrapped; and God does not come because the world is ready, because the world is at peace. God just comes, frenzy and all. And all we have to do is put on our dancing shoes!

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of not having to have everything perfect, of not bowing to frenzy. Give yourself the gift of peace!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 4B: 'Bout Time We Start Dancin'!

2011-12-15T13:54:00.000-06:00

Lectionary Text: Romans 16: 25-27
Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through the prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith—to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.

In this Fourth week of Advent, we read this doxology along with the imminence of Jesus’ birth. Read alongside the story of Mary as God-bearer, we have the sense that the full Gospel is starting to unfold. This is in no way a “replacement” for the Law of Moses; it is that Law seen to its fulfillment in the new humanity, the new Adam, in Jesus Christ. Gentiles have been “grafted” into a story that was already taking place, already in full swing. This is nothing new. It is, rather, the doxology. For Paul, HIS gospel was the “unveiling” of something that had been around from the very beginning.

Scholars think that it is quite possible that Paul did not write these verses but that they were attached to the end of the letter perhaps AS a doxology, a statement of praise and proclamation. But regardless of who wrote it, this is a statement of response. It is, to use Paul’s words, an “obedience of faith.” The Incarnation of God in Jesus Christ invokes our response; otherwise it is virtually meaningless. In Feasting on the Word, Cathy F. Young quotes Helmut Thielicke when he says, “Faith can be described only as a movement of flight, flight away from myself and toward the great possibilities of God.” The whole gospel in its fullness is about our response. It is our faith that moves it and opens up the possibilities that God envisioned.

Advent is about letting ourselves envision what God envisions and then moving toward it. Because into this world that often seems random and meaningless, full of pain and despair; into this society that is often callous and lacking of compassion, directionless and confused; into our lives that many times are wrought with grief and a sense that it is all for naught; into all of it is born a baby that holds the hope of the world for the taking. We just have to be open and willing to take it. The great illustrator and writer, Tasha Tudor said, “the gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy!” This is what this doxology says: All of this that has been laid out for you, all of this that has been created; all of this that has for so long been moving toward your life, take it. Take joy! Tomorrow will be your dancing day!

I love Christmas Eve at St. Paul's. I actually don't know how to explain it. It's magnificent; it's magical; it's mystery. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before. It moves you into someplace that you have not been before. It takes you out of yourself and gives you a glimpse, albeit a tiny, tiny glimpse, of what it's all about, of why we're here, of that to which we journey. This will be my eighth year to participate in the processional that winds through the nave, encompassing everyone who is there in music and candlelight and incredible joy. I say processional because, even though it comes toward the end of the service, it leads us to something more. It leads us to our response. It brings me to tears. (I will say that in these last seven years, I have been brought to tears each year--six because it has moved me beyond myself and the seventh because, I have to tell you, Gail caught Emily's hair on fire with her candle and had to hastily put it out with her bulletin. Thankfully, Emily had very little hair product on her hair that night! We were laughing so hard we couldn't even see where we were going! (See, you just don't know what will happen when you let us loose!)

But the point is that this is our way of taking joy, of connecting to the mystery of the God who came and comes. Often, our choir will sing an Old English carol that I have grown to love (in fact, let it be known, that I want it sung at my funeral!) because it is a song of joy, a song of deep abiding love. It is the song that we should all be singing. It is our invitation to joy. The song itself is more than a carol. It has additional verses (although some are extremely anti-semitic). It tells the story of Jesus' life, the Gospel, the Good News--the birth, the life, the death, the life. It is the Song of Joy and our invitation to join in!

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day; I would my true love did so chance

To see the legend of my play, to call my true love to my dance;

Sing, oh! My love, oh! My love, my love, my love, this have I done for my true love.

Then was I born of a virgin pure, of her I took fleshly substance

Thus was I knit to man’s nature, to call my true love to my dance.

(Refrain)

In a manger laid, and wrapped I was, so very poor, this was my chance
Betwixt and ox and a silly poor ass, to call my true love to my dance.

(Refrain)

Traditional English Carol

OK, the time is not here yet, but don't you think it's 'bout time we start dancin'? Somehow our world has taught us to hold back, to not "count our chickens before they're hatched", to be reserved. But God? God just wants us to start dancing so that everyone else will join!

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of taking joy, of realizing what God holds for you, of dancing the dance to which you've been invited! Let tomorrow be your dancing day!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Putting On Shoes

2011-12-14T04:00:00.114-06:00

God became human. Well, sure, God can do that if God chooses, but why? Why would the Divine CHOOSE to become human, CHOOSE to live a life that includes suffering and fear, CHOOSE to live in this imperfect world? It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I suppose it's part of that mystery thing. And the truth is, we struggle with it. We try to justify it. You've heard it all before: "God was the perfect human," "God was only posing as a human," or "It was part of God's plan." Really? God PLANNED to be born into poverty, PLANNED to be born into an oppressive society, PLANNED to struggle, PLANNED to be disliked, and PLANNED to die? I don't really know if that was all part of God's plan or not. Is it so hard for us to accept that God just CHOSE to be one of us? After all, part of being human is being subjected to a certain randomness of order, to a life that, as hard as it is for us to imagine, is beyond our control, and to not only the free will of ourself, but also the free will, the choice to do right or do wrong, that others around us have. Being human means that not all of life is a predictable pattern, not all of life is planned. But, nevertheless, God became human. After eons and eons of trying to get our attention, God put on shoes and walked with us.

"Incarnate" literally means "taking on flesh." It means becoming tangible, real, touchable, accessible. It means becoming human. It means putting on shoes. In the book Everything Belongs, Richard Rohr calls it God's "most dangerous disguise." After all, taking on flesh, becoming tangible, becoming real, touchable, accessible also makes one vulnerable and that is incredibly dangerous. God put on shoes to show us how to be vulnerable, to show us how to give up a piece of ourself and open ourself to the Divine.

The Shoe Heap, Auschwitz, Poland

More than a decade ago, I had the opportunity to visit Auschwitz, Poland. I expected to be appalled; I expected to be moved; I expected to be saddened at what I would fine. I did not expect to become so personally or spiritually involved.  As you walk through the concentration camp, you encounter those things that belonged to the prisoners and victims that were unearthed when the camp was captured--suitcases, eye glasses, books, clothes, artifical limbs, and shoes--lots and lots and lots and lots of shoes--mountains of humanity, all piled up in randomness and namelessness and despair. This is humanity at its worst. This is humanity making unthinkable decisions about one another based on the need to be in control, based on the need to be proved right or worthy or acceptable at the expense of others' lives, based on the assumption that one human is better or more deserving than another.

And yet, God CHOSE to be human. God CHOSE to put on shoes, temporarily separating the Godself from the Holy Ground that is always a part of us, and entering our vulnerability. God willingly CHOSE to become vulnerable and subject to humanity at its worst. But God did this because beneath us all is Holy Ground. God came to this earth and put on shoes and walked this earth that we might learn to take our shoes off and feel the Holy Ground beneath our feet. God CHOSE to be human not so we would learn to be Divine (after all, that is God's department) but so that we would learn what it means to take off our shoes and feel the earth, feel the sand, feel the rock, feel the Divine Creation that is always with us and know that part of being human is knowing the Divine. Part of being human is being able to feel the earth move under your feet, to be vulnerable, to be tangible, to be real, to take on flesh, to be incarnate. Part of being human is making God come alive.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being human, being vulnerable, and knowing the God who is Divine. Take off your shoes and feel the earth move under your feet. God is coming! The earth is beginning to move!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 4B: The House of God

2011-12-13T04:00:00.011-06:00

Model of the Temple
Museum in Jerusalem, Israel

Lectionary Text: 2 Samuel 7: (1-5a), 5b-7, (8-9) 10-11, (16)
Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”...And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may live in their own place, and be disturbed no more; and evedildoers shall afflict them no more, as formerly, from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel; and I will give you rest from all your enemies. Moreover the Lord declares to you that the Lord will make you a house.

This text wraps up the promise that God made to Abram in Genesis 12. The people have a land that they can claim as their own and they can live in peace. And David's reign as king has been pretty much legitimized. Things seem to be going well. And so David envisions now a more permanent structure to house the ark of the Lord. In other words, David now desires to build a temple in Jerusalem.

But that night the Lord intervenes by way of Nathan with a promise not necessarily of a permanent “house” but, rather a permanent dynasty, an everlasting house of the line of David. David has risen from shepherd boy to king and has apparently felt God’s presence through it all. He now sits in his comfortable palace and compares his “house” to the tent that “houses God” in his mind. So he decides that God needs a grand house too. God, through the prophet Nathan responds by asking, in a sense, "Hey! Did you hear me complaining about living in a tent? No, I prefer being mobile, flexible, responsive, free to move about, not fixed in one place." God then turns the tables on David and says, "You think you're going to build me a house? No, no, no, no. I'M going to build YOU a house. A house that will last much longer and be much greater than anything you could build yourself with wood and stone. A house that will shelter the hopes and dreams of your people long after 'you lie down with your ancestors.'" God promises to establish David and his line "forever," and this is a "no matter what" promise, even if the descendants of David sin, even if "evildoers" threaten.
The truth is, we all desire permanence; we want something on which we can stand, that we can touch, that we can “sink our teeth into”, so to speak. We want to know the plan so that we can plan around it. Well, if this was going to make it easier to understand God, go ahead. The truth is, this is a wandering God of wandering people. This is not a God who desires or can be shut up in a temple or a church or a closed mind. This is not a God who desires to be "figured out." This God is palatial; this God is unlimited; this God will show up in places that we did not build. (and sometimes in places that we really wouldn’t go!) This God does not live in a house; this God dwells with us—wherever we are. This God comes as a traveler, a journeyer, a moveable feast. And this God shows up where we least expect God to be—in a god-forsaken place on the outskirts of acceptable society to a couple of people that had other plans for their lives. This God will be where God will be. And it IS a permanent home.

In this Advent season, we know that God comes. That is what we celebrate; that is what we remember; that is what we expect. After all, this God we worship is the one that is with us, Emmanuel. But have we planned too much? Have we somehow convinced ourselves that God can be directed or choreographed or planned into being? Have we forgotten what it means to simply build a house in which God can live? Are you the one to build me a house to live in? Go ahead, build it. It will be magnificent!

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of building a house of God. There is no blueprint; there are no plans. It has no walls, no ceiling, no floor. It is open to the God who comes. And know that God will come.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Story of God

2011-12-12T04:00:00.097-06:00

"Birth of Christ", Robert Campin
ca. 1425-30

There is not one of us that does not love The Christmas Story. It's got it all--heartache, darkness, intrigue, danger, animals, innocence, an oppressive government, and a baby to boot. It's got all those things that make great tales. No wonder it's a bestseller! No wonder there are so many songs written about it (that we at this moment cannot WAIT to sing!) But for all the romantic notions of a baby born into a cold desert night in a small town on the other side of the world to poor, struggling parents, this story is not about a birth. It's not a story about Jesus. This is the Story of God.

It began long before this. It began in the beginning. It began when God breathed a part of the Godself into being and created this little world. And as the story unfolded, as God's Creation grew into being, God remained with them, a mysterious, often unknown Presence, that yearned to be in relationship with what God had breathed into being. And once in a while, God's children would stop what they were doing long enough to know and acknowledge the incarnations of God. Once in awhile, they would encounter a burning bush or a parting sea or an unfathomable cloud on the top of a mountain. Once in awhile they would stop, take off their shoes, and feel the holiness beneath their feet. But more often than not, they struggled in darkness, they struggled in war, they struggled in oppression and injustice because they didn't see the Light that was with them. God called them and God sent them and some were prophets and some were wise and some were yearning themselves to be with God. Some wrote hymns and poetry telling of their yearning and others just bowed and hoped that God would notice.

This wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for the people and it wasn't enough for God. God yearned to be with what God had created. God desperately wanted humanity to be what they were made to be, to come home to the Divine. And so God came once again, God Incarnate, into this little world. But this time, God came as what God had created.  And so God was born into a cold, dark night. But the earth was almost too full. There was little room for God. But, on that night, in a dark grotto on the outskirts of holiness, God was born. The Divine somehow made room in a quiet, little corner of the world. God came to show Creation what had been there all along.  And, yet, there was Newness; there was Light; there was finally Meaning; there was God Made Known.

The Incarnation (the "big I" one!) is God's unveiling. It is God coming out of the darkness and out of the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  God became one of us to show us how to be like God in the world. So, in this season, we again hear the story. We hear the story of God. But unless we realize that it is our story, it still won't be enough. God came as God Incarnate into this little world to tell the story that goes back to the beginning. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1: 1-5) And the story continues...

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being a part of the story, of being Light, of being Life, of being who you were created to be in the beginning. Give yourself the gift of making room for God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Letting Go of Darkness

2011-12-11T18:31:00.000-06:00

St. Paul's United Methodist Church
Houston, TX
December 11, 2011

On this third Sunday in the Advent season, we continue to talk about light, about the Light of God as it comes into the world. We talk about a light that illumines, a light that shows the way. We talk about light-bending and light-bearing. And we are reminded that this is the Light that pushes away the darkness. And, yet, we still live in darkness. We still live with injustice. We still live with fear. And we still live in a world that yearns for God and searches for Life.

So what is the problem? If God created Light and then came into this world as Light Incarnate, the living Light, then why is there still so much darkness? Perhaps it is we that are holding too tightly to the darkness. Perhaps it is we who just don't want to let go of that to which we are accustomed, of that which makes us comfortable. Perhaps it is we who rather than adjusting our eyes to the Light, instead choose to shield our eyes and close our hearts until the Light is easier to handle. Perhaps it is we that cannot let go of the darkness, of injustices that we allow to exist, of exclusions that we do not protest and hungers that we do not feed, and of those places where education, or medical resources, or the very basics of sustenance and life are not supplied because it is just too difficult. And, so, there is still darkness. Oh, we know that it's there. But what can we do?

Don't you think that if it were completely up to God, the Light would already be encompassing our world and the Kingdom of God would already be living into its fullest being? I mean, really, what purpose does it serve God to hold back on us? Why WOULDN'T God want Creation to be what it was created to be? Why WOULDN'T God desire a world of justice and righteousness and sustenance for all. Why WOULDN'T God want a world that offers life to all of God's children? If God is truly omnipotent, if God is all-powerful, why is our world the way it is? It is because this omnipotent God chose long ago to give up a piece of the Godself. It's called free will. God gave the greatest gift to humanity imagineable--a piece of the Divine, the ability to make a choice to let go of darkness and be the Light. And then God came, Emmanuel, God-With-Us, to show us how to be that Light, to show us what it means to be a child of that Light. God has never intended to remove us from the darkness of our lives but rather to show us how to transform it into Light, how to transform it into Life. God is not holding back on us; God is waiting for us to let go of the darkness; God is waiting for us to be light.

Light looked down and beheld Darkness.
‘Thither will I go’, said Light.
Peace looked down and beheld War.
‘Thither will I go’, said Peace.
Love looked down and beheld Hatred.
‘Thither will I go’, said Love.
So came Light and shone.
So came Peace and gave rest.
So came Love and brought Life.

("And the Word Was Made Flesh", by Laurence Housman)

This morning we lit our third candle. The Light has almost encircled the wreath. It gives us the image of the Light encircling the world. And when it is complete, when darkness is transformed, then the Light of Christ will be born to all. We are the light-bearers. We are the ones called to be children of the Light, bringing the Light to all. So, let go of the darkness that it might be transformed into Life. Be Light. Be Peace. Be Love. Be the Image of God.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of letting go of darkness; give yourself the gift of becoming the light that you were called to be, the light that points to the Light of God and brings life to a hurting world.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 3B: Bending Light

2011-12-10T11:19:00.000-06:00

Lectionary Text: John 1: 6-8, (19-28)
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

Once again, we encounter John, who we now call John the Baptist. But he’s really John the Witness. Here, we are told that John is but a witness to something bigger. He is there to point to the light of Christ that is coming. But what makes John’s message uncomfortable is that he is always pointing to that which the light illumines. For the writer of the Gospel According to John, the Logos was the true light bursting forth into humanity. Rather than an angel announcing the birth of a baby, the writer is using John as a witness to point to that light as well as the purpose of that light. We love the image of light but sometimes we are uncomfortable with full illumination. I mean, here’s John, running around like a wild man in the wilderness preaching repentance, calling for us to change, and just being really loud. Our reaction in this season is to respond with: “John…shhhh! You’ll wake the baby.”

After all, this is the Season when we celebrate the birth of Christ. This is the Season when we want to give gifts to each other and spend time with our families enjoying a veritable plethora of high-sugar baked goods. This is the Season when we want to decorate our houses with festive reminders of the joyous season and get dressed up and go to parties to celebrate the same. This is the Season when we want everything to be joyous and beautiful and perfect. But this John character just gets in the way, doesn't he? Doesn't this come later in the Scriptures? Doesn't this come at the beginning of Jesus' ministry? Why do we have to think about this now in the middle of the birth stories?

The reason that we read about John is because it's not about John. He knew that. Scary as he sometimes is, you can't help but admire him. He did not stand on convention and he really didn't care at all what people thought. He had one purpose. He was to point to the Light. In fact, when you think about it, he seemed to TRY to deflect attention away from himself. Maybe that's the point. He was not the Light; he was the deflector. It was his purpose to turn the attention aside and recast it toward the One who WAS the Light. God created the Light for us so that we can see the Way, so that we can feel God's Presence in our lives. God created the Light that it might shine into our lives. But God also created us in the image of the Godself that we might be able to also shine the Light away from ourselves, to deflect the Light back to God. If we do nothing but bask in this incredible Light, we are surrounded in shadows. But if we become a deflector of that Light, then the Light illumines even the darkness.

In this Advent season, we, too, are called to be witnesses of the Light. It is not about us. We, too, are called to turn God's Light back toward God. We are called to be Light-benders. And you know what? The baby's already awake. We just need to turn the Light toward the Christ that we might realize that.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of turning the Light away from yourself that you might finally see the Glory of God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

(And if you're interested in the full notes from the week's lectionary passages, check out http://journeytopenuel.blogspot.com/ )

On the Other Side of the Manger

2011-12-09T04:00:00.065-06:00

This past Wednesday night, I had the opportunity to lead an Advent discussion with members of St. Paul's Hispanic Congregation. No, my Spanish has not had a sudden improvement. We slowly went through the discussion and the questions and answers by translating back and forth between English and Spanish. (Boy, I need to brush up on my Spanish! The closest I could get is that I would sort of understand the "gist" of the question before Nataly or Mireya translated it for me!) But I must admit that I also had to brush up on the subject matter. I must have drawn the short straw or something because my subject matter was Joseph of Bethlehem, husband of Mary, earthly father-figure (for want of a better word) for Jesus. Joseph? What is there to say about Joseph? I mean, Mary has a big moment with the top angel Gabriel, followed by the entire world that waits for her answer. She even has a song! And she remains a top character in the plot all the way to the bitter end. But Joseph? I think if I were Joseph, I would attempt to renegotiate my contract or something. I mean, he doesn't even have a speaking role! He has no voice! So, really, what is there to say about Joseph?

We don't really know that much about him. His family was probably of Bethlehem, even though he perhaps lived in Nazareth. One might surmise that he was there for work and, yet, Nazareth wasn't exactly a thriving metropolis with numerous opportunities for a struggling carpenter. (That probably meant that Joseph was a builder, the Greek techton, perhaps a stonemason. After all, how much wood is there really in Israel?) His and Mary's was probably an arranged marriage. Some think that he might have been older. OK, there's no real support for that, but whatever...But we know that he was righteous, probably a faithful "rule follower" of the Jewish law. And he had plans. He and Mary would marry and have children of their own. He would have a son. He would have the privilege of naming him. But that was not to happen. Instead, the lovely Mary goes and gets herself knocked up. Think of what Joseph felt--betrayal, embarrassment, hurt, regret, confusion. This was not the plan.

And then the dream. Oh, that's dangerous. Biblical dreams never seem to help one's plan. Seldom does an instrument of God show up in one's dream to tell us how great we're directing our lives! So, whether Joseph dreamed of an angel, or God, or his own conviction, he realized that in spite of all the rules that had been broken, in spite of the way that life had literally spit on his plan, he loved Mary. He realized that he was called to be a part of this. He realized that regardless of what the world told him to do--divorce her silently or accuse her publicly--he could not. And so, there's Joseph on the other side of the manger. The picture is in every Nativity image we have--the Blessed Mary, the mother of Christ looking adoringly at the infant in the manger. And standing across from her in silent commitment is Joseph of Bethlehem.

This silent figure does not, I think, get his due. After all, his entire life changed as much as Mary's. His plans had to be shelved. His rules were broken. He was called to offer love and support and to raise this child, this child that, regardless of whether or not Joseph had a hand in the conception, would never really be his own. The other side of the manger has no voice. Instead, he was called to a silent commitment. He was called to hold the child's hand, lead him from the manger, and then let him go. And then Joseph drops out of sight. He was there twelve years later at the temple when Jesus left his parents but chances are that Joseph was used to Jesus going down roads without him by that time.

Not all of us are meant to be the stars of the play. Some of us have no speaking roles. In fact, some of us never even make it to the stage. But the story is never complete without each and every one of us. And those that stand with no voice in silent commitment and humble devotion are the hardest workers of all. The years of Jesus' life that were spent with Joseph are not documented in known Scripture. They are not a part of our canon. But Jesus had to have someone that took him by the hand and led him to the beginning. The Gospel story did not just shoot out of thin air--someone was silently leading the way. Someone early on had to make the conscious decision to silence the world and listen to God. Someone had to stand on the other side of the manger.

I wish that the other night my Spanish had been not quite as rusty. We were able to tell the story. We were able to talk about what Joseph felt. We were able to place the story in the proper context. But there was an almost overwhelming silence. When you're standing on the other side of the manger, it is only God that you hear. When there's nothing to say, when you have no voice, God still calls you to something bigger than you can possibly imagine.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of silence that you might hear the song of God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 3B: Hallowed Be

2011-12-08T04:00:00.070-06:00

Lectionary Passage: 1 Thessalonians 5: 16-19 (20-24)
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit.

How do you pray without ceasing? I mean, OK, now, let's pray. We pray and we pray. Things are going OK. We're praying along. Wait, who's phone is that? Hold on, it's mine. Stop praying. Answer the phone. OK, now, I need to pick up the house a bit. And I need to write the blog for tomorrow. And tomorrow is trash day. And Maynard needs his dinner. And, to be honest, I think I do too. Pray without ceasing? Really?  How do you fit that in? And, sadly, the Spirit is quenched.

Paul was not laying down a rule for prayer. Paul never envisioned us living body-bent and knee-bowed 24/7. After all, there is WAY too much work to do. We've got some Kingdom-building to accomplish, don't we? No, Paul was not calling us to a life spent in prayer; He was calling us to a prayerful life, a life that is sacred, hallowed, a life lived in the unquenchable Spirit of God. It's not about logging prayer hours. Rather, it's about perspective, about seeing everything that is your life as hallowed and holy, as of God, as prayer.  Olga Savin says that “[the Scriptures] tell us that ceaseless prayer in pursuit of God and communion with [God] is not simply life’s meaning or goal, the one thing worth living for, but it is life itself.” And a life lived the way it is called to be lived is the very will of God. It is prayer.

And so, pray without ceasing. When you answer the phone, cherish the family member or the friend or the co-worker who has called you. In fact, give thanks for the person on the other end who inadvertantly dialed the wrong number. After all, they, too, are your brother or sister. God has called us to love one another. And as you clean and straighten, look around you. Your dwelling is more than shelter. It is an expression of you. Give thanks for the you that God has made. And then do what God has called you to do. Use your talents. Give thanks for them. They were given to you by God to use in the building of God's Kingdom. And that big black lab that wants his dinner? Personally, I thank God everyday for bringing us together. How did I find a companion like this on the internet? He needed me; I needed him. Isn't that why Creation exists? Then sit back and taste dinner. Taste that which has been lovingly grown by the Divine. And give thanks. Every household task, everything thing you do, do as a prayer. And all of those never-ending interruptions? Think of them as holy. (After all, think about it--when did God show up as planned?) Make everything you do an offering to the Divine. Let everything you have and everything you are be a preparation for God's coming. Embrace it. Rejoice in it. Give thanks.

In this season of waiting for the coming of God, pray without ceasing. In other words, live your life to the fullest and the best. Offer it to God. And rejoice in what you have--companionship, beauty, work, love.  G.K. Chesterton exhorted us to “let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” I love that.  You know, God is coming. It will happen. But don’t forget that God is here. Rejoice! And live your life waiting and rejoicing, rejoicing and waiting. And, most of all, love. That is how you pray without ceasing.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of seeing your life as prayer, of living in a love affair with God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Open Season

2011-12-07T04:00:00.089-06:00

"...who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary..."

We say those words every Sunday. We stand and we look at the cross and we say with all our heart that we believe these words to be true. Now, the "conceived" part we get--conceived, thought up, breathed into--Jesus was God's way after eons of breathing Creation into being of finally breathing the very Godself into the world. The Divine has come to walk with us. But this Virgin Mary thing? What is that? Jesus, born, born as a human, born as a baby. As unromantic and "un-Nativity-like" as it may be, Jesus was fussy and colicy. The Son of God, in all likelihood, messed up his first-century diaper. (I've never been accused of being overly-reverent!) Mary and Joseph were probably sleep-deprived. And as time went on, Jesus, like all of us, had to learn to walk and talk and be.   He had to grow into who he was. But when's the last time you held a newborn baby? When's the last time you held a baby that was only hours old? It's just like holding the entire hope of the world in your arms. There are no preconceptions; there are no agendas; there is no one to impress or keep from disappointing.  There is only a pure and undefiled openness to what comes next, to what God holds. There is only hope. You can smell it. Maybe it's the smell of birth. But maybe it's the smell of the Divine.

So does it really matter? We get so wrapped up in whether or not Mary's virginity was literally intact when Jesus was born. Again, does it really matter? Does it really matter when you are holding the hope of the world? Does it really matter when you are holding the world's salvation in your arms? Think about it. Jesus was born, Son of God and Son of Humanity. Jesus was born to Mary, the mother of the Salvation of the World. Perhaps the translators of the writing by the writer known as Matthew had it right and Mary was a virgin in every sense of the word--pure, undefiled, and open to receive. But, more importantly, Mary was a virgin in the spiritual sense of the word--pure, undefiled, and open to receive what comes next, open to receive whatever God held for her life. Mary opened her heart and her life that she might birth God into this world.

In this season of Advent, we are called to do the same.  14th century theologian, Meister Eckhart said that "we are all meant to be mothers of God, for God is always needing to be born." We are all called to be virgin--pure, undefiled, and open to receive. We are all called to birth God into this world. How open are you to what comes next? How open are you to what God holds for your life? This is the open season. This is the season when we shed all the preconceptions of what we think God is. This is the season when we let go of our need to explain God's coming into the world and be open to what comes next. So does it really matter? You bet it does. It is the Hope of the World that depends on it.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being open to whatever it is God holds for you and birthing God into your life. Be virgin. Be a womb for the hope of the world.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 3B: They

2011-12-06T04:00:00.003-06:00

Lectionary Passage: Isaiah 61: 1-4, (8-11)
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn;to provide for those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory. They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations.

Something has to change. We have to try something different. We cannot live like this anymore. How many times have you heard that in the last few months? And how many presidential candidates will rise to grace and fall to failure before we actually even elect the change agent we want for the next four years? Truthfully, I think I'm getting a case of political whiplash. And I'm trying hard to keep up. But it's a little like trying to read a playbill in a dark theater for a REALLY slow-moving play. How many scenes were there in this act? How close are we to intermission? Look, all we want is for someone to fix things. Is that so hard?

Really, we're not that different from these former exiles who were trying desperately to reshape their community. But it's gone on awhile. It's time for something to happen. Someone needs to fix things. So standing in the midst of the ruins of what was once a thriving Jerusalem, the prophetic witness depicts the perfect reign of God, the time when all of Creation will be renewed and fulfilled. This is the hope for the future. The prophet here affirms a specific and individual call from God, a call to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to witness, and to comfort. But then, in verse 3, the pronoun changes. No longer is the prophet affirming an individual's call. The calling is now to the plural "they". It's not just the "me" that is the prophet; it is the "they" that is everyone. The prophet is not called to "fix" things; the prophet is called to proclaim that all are called to this work.

All of us are part of what the Lord has planted and nourished and grown to bloom. All of us are "they". We are the ones that are called to become the new shoots sprouting to life. We are the ones that are called to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to bring justice, to witness, and to comfort. This Scripture may sound vaguely familiar to us for another reason. In the fourth chapter of the Gospel According to the writer known as Luke, Jesus stands in the synagogue in his home temple in the midst of a world smarting with Roman occupation and cites these same words. He acknowledges his own calling, he is commissioned to this work. And he sets forth an agenda using the words of this prophet. So, here we are reminded once again. We are reminded what we as the people of Christ are called to do--to bring good news, to bind up, to proclaim liberty, to bring justice, to witness, to comfort, and to build the Kingdom of God.

In this Season of Advent, we look for the coming of God into this world. We look toward the fullness of God's Kingdom. But when we start beginning to look for someone to fix what is wrong in the meantime, we are reminded that we are they. We are the ones for which we've been waiting. We are the ones that while waiting with hopeful anticipation, we spend our time bringing good news, binding up, proclaiming liberty, bringing justice, witnessing, comforting, and building the Kingdom of God. So put down the playbill and get busy.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of realizing that you are the one for which you've been waiting.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

A Call to Revolution

2011-12-05T04:00:00.001-06:00

Scripture Text: Luke 1:45-55
And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord,and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

It's called The Magnificat or the Song of Mary. It is a young girl's realization that life will never be the same again, her affirmation that God has called her to be a part of something that will turn the world upside down. Our Christian tradition has probably overly-domesticated the image of Mary a bit, giving her characteristics of one who is young and meek and downtrodden, a scared young girl that became the mother of Christ. But these words are not meek; in fact, they are downright radical for the first century and for us today. It is a call to take those who are on top--the rich, the haughty, the successful, the powerful and bring them down. It is a call to elevate those who are poor, hungry, the very bottom of our society. Who are we kidding? In our burgeoning political climate, this is NOT the way to get elected. This is NOT the way to gain support. This is anything but politically correct. In fact, this is a call to revolution. I'm betting these words will not show up in any of the 584 presidential debates (doesn't it seem like there are about that many?) between now and next November.

E. Stanley Jones calls The Magnificat, "the most revolutionary document in the world". It is said that this document terrorized the Russian Czars. In fact, for a time during the 1980's, the government of Guatemala banned its public recitation. After all, if someone actually paid attention to this stuff, who knows what could happen? Why, this might be downright dangerous to our acceptable of way life!You know, I think that's the point. We are called to DO something. We are called to pay attention. We are called to no longer accept society's "acceptable" way of life. The Christian movement did not begin as a comfortable and affirming religious tradition of the majority. Just like we have domesticated and calmed our image of Mary, we have done the same with our tradition. You see, Christianity began as a revolution, a revolution against the way the world rewards money and status and power, against the way the world leaves behind those that do not have the resources to care for themselves, and against the way the world sets up standards and rules for the way things should be. It is a revolution against a world that has lost its sense of grace and compassion and justice. It is a revolution that followed the Way of Christ. After all, if someone actually paid attention to this stuff, who knows what could happen?

In this Season of Advent, we are becoming more and more aware of the mystery of God's Presence and God's Love that is even now breaking into our way of being. God With Us, Emmanuel, was not born into our little world to tell us what a stupendous job we are doing! God came, born as one of us, to show us the Way to something different, to call us into revolution. Where are you now? How full do you feel today? How can you be ready to birth God into your life when you are so full of this world?

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of answering the call to revolution, of being hungry enough to be filled with God.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT: A Child of the Light

2011-12-04T18:59:00.000-06:00

On this second Sunday in Advent, we sing the late 20th century hymn by Kathleen Thomerson entitled "I Want to Walk as a Child of the Light". Most of us like this song. We like the thought of a warm and illuminating light pervading our very lives. We want to follow Christ. We want to be a child of the Light. But think about it. Do we really know what we're signing up to be?

The image of light is prevalent throughout the Scriptures and throughout our understanding of God. It starts in the beginning with the Creator God pushing back the darkness with the light, filling what was essentially an empty formless void with Illuminating Light. The Light is in essence the very Presence of God. This is not to be taken as merely day filling night. In fact, part of the Creation story is the setting into place that eternal cycle of day and night, work and rest. They are both essential; they are both of God; they are both part of the Created order. They are one.

No, this Light of God is different. It is God's Presence. It is Illumination replacing emptiness, void, nothingness, absence. To say that we want to walk in that Light, to be a part of that Light, is to say that we want to be with God, that we want to be part of God's continuing Creation that illuminates all there is. We are saying that we want to live within that Kingdom of God. But do not think that this means that we all of a sudden start basking in this warm, yellow-gold light. (That's the sun, not God.) The Light of God is more pervasive than we can even fathom. It is white-hot, burning with a tender fire, as it brings everyone and everything into its flame. The writer of the book we know as Malachi compares it to a refiner's fire that is so hot that it can change the form of anything it touches. There is no shelter from this light because the shelter IS the light. No longer can we cower in the shadows of political or social correctness while pain and injustices continue to exist around us. No longer can we move freely from one social class to the next like we move from streetlight to streetlight on a dark winter night and nonchalantly leave others behind. No longer can we exist in a world where only a portion of us stand bathed in artificial light and are accepted or promoted or fed or insured. We are children of the light. We are children of a different Way. We are the ones that are called to expose the shadows of this world and bring the radiance and fullness of God's Kingdom into being. In this Season of Advent we are the ones that are called to birth God, the Hope and Joy and Light of all Creation, into the world.

I want to walk as a child of the Light
I want to follow Jesus
God set the stars to give light to the world
The Star of my life is Jesus.

Refrain:In Him there is no darkness at all
The night and the day are both alike
The lamb is the Light of the city of God
Shine in my heart Lord Jesus.

I want to see the Brightness of God
I want to look at Jesus
Clear Son of righteousness shine on my path
And show me the way to the Father. (Refrain)

I'm looking for the coming of Christ
I want to be with Jesus
When we have run, with patience, the race
We shall know the joy of Jesus. (Refrain)

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of walking as a child of the light! You will never be able to be the same again.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 2B: The Beginning of the Story

2011-12-03T22:23:00.000-06:00

ADVENT 2B Lectionary: Mark 1: 1-8:

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’” John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals.I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Admit it...John the Baptist scares us a little bit--a wilderness man, a wild evangelist, wearing a suit of camel's hair and making a meal of locusts and honey. Really? Why couldn't the messenger have been someone a little more traditional, someone a little more easier to be around? But, then again, have you ever known God to stay within the boundaries that we've drawn? Maybe that's the whole point. I mean, here is a messenger, paving the path, preparing the way for the coming of the Lord. No Mary and Joseph, no baby, no stable, no shepherds, no magi, no angels…just…boom…the One is coming that will baptize you with the Spirit of God…the One is coming who will change your life and change your ways and change the world from what we know it to be…the One is coming who will bring us all into the Reign of God. Hold on…get ready!

The writer of Mark’s Gospel leaves us suspended in time, waiting, rather than living through the whole story together. Many spiritual writers call that a state of liminality, a point of being betwixt and between, the moment between what is and what will be, a place in which the old world is left behind but we’re not sure what the new one looks like just yet. It is a point between two times that intersect and become one. So, are you ready? Well, if you’re not, you need to get that way. Because in this Gospel, the good news has already begun, whether we’re prepared or not.

Throughout this version of the Gospel, there is a sense of urgency, a sort of abruptness, that somehow compels us to get on board with it, to not tarry with things that do not matter and do not prepare us for the coming. The writer of Mark cuts to the chase: humanity has waited and prepared itself for this for centuries. We are reminded of that as the passage pulls in the words of Isaiah, the foretelling of that time when God would come and be among us, when God would come and save us. Now is the time. The Christmas celebration for all its splendor and all its beauty and all its twinkling lights is first and foremost the fulfillment of God’s promise of salvation. This IS the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. This IS the beginning of our story.

But there is another implication here. In this Advent season, as we wait with expectant hope, we are also reminded that our expectations are limited by our own lives. God has so much more in store that what we could ever fathom. Maybe that’s why the writer of Mark quickly takes us to the wilderness and wilds of our lives (and to the bizarre wilderness man!). You see, God will not be plunked down in the middle of the bustling city of Jerusalem. God will not come in the way that we plan or imagine how God will come. Rather, God will emerge in the wilderness of our lives and we will realize that God has been there all along. We do not have to go to Jerusalem or prepare a grand entry to encounter God. God comes to us. We just have to be open to whatever God’s coming is. And we have to be willing to enter a new beginning. What we are living is not the prelude; it’s the beginning of the story.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of the wilderness--those wild and untamed places in your lives where you might just experience the coming of God anew. In other words, all this planning and preparation...forget about it! Just open yourself to the coming of Christ!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

How Can This Be?

2011-12-02T07:29:00.000-06:00

We are told over and over in the Scriptures "do not be afraid" or "be not afraid" or "do not fear". Well, in my humble experience of the Bible, it strike me that when God or an angel or some other instrument uses these words, one should be extremely concerned! After all, God is preparing you for something really big. The world as you know it will start shaking and quaking and the foundation that you've so carefully built for yourself will become mere quicksand. Nothing will ever be the same again.

But of all the "be not afraids" in the Bible, surely the one to a young Galilean girl at the beginning of what we now call the "first century" takes the cake!  "Excuse Me, Mary, I have something for you to do.  I'd like you to give birth to a son even though you haven't married Joseph yet and even though none of your family or your friends or your community will understand it and even though the world will struggle with this birth so much that it will initially not end well, and, oh yeah, there's one other small little detail...you will be essentially birthing the salvation of the world! But, do not be afraid! So, let me know what you think!" I think Mary's initial response (as its translated in our Scriptures) is one of the most profound phrases ever: "How can this be?" It is the question of faith. Because, you see, it CAN'T be--not without God and, interestingly enough, not EVEN without Mary.

But in Mary's defense, she had other preconceptions working against her. (Oh...so we're not the only ones with that problem!)   There is a folktale that is told in the Book of Tobit (you'll find it in the Apocrypha) that tells of a jealous angel who would appear on a bride's wedding night each time she married and killed her bridegroom.  This story, of course, was probably part of the culture in which Mary lived. So, don't be afraid? Good grief...she was terrified! But she listens to the reassurance that she is given and take it "under advisement".

And then God waits...(boy, God's good at waiting--maybe THAT'S part of the lesson!)...God waits patiently for Mary to respond. The world hangs suspended if only for a time, its very salvation teetering on the brink of its demise. Oh, sure, if Mary said no, God could have gone to someone else. God could have found SOMEONE to birth the salvation of the world. But it wouldn't have been the same. After all, the Divine did not just plunk a far-removed piece of the Godself into a womb.  Our understanding is that, yes, the Christ was fully Divine; but Jesus was "born of a woman", fully human and, as a human, Jesus carried Mary's unique and specific DNA with him. Mary was not just a container through which God came into this little world. Mary's DNA, Mary's response, Mary's "how can this be?", Mary's "yes" is all through the salvation of the world.

So, how can this be? I do believe in the omnipotence of God. But I also believe that God, in God's infinite wisdom, chose to give up part of that power. It's called free will. God gave a piece of the Godself to each of us that we might choose to respond in faith. How can this be? Certainly not without God and not even without us.  Our faith journey is a partnership with God, a dance between the human and the Divine. And so God waits...How can this be?...Only if you respond.  Remember, Mary said "yes" and the Divine began to spill in to the womb of the world. Salvation began.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of responding to the God that calls you to birth part of the earth's salvation. How can this be? I don't know...it's your calling! What is your response?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 2B: As If

2011-12-01T04:00:00.001-06:00

The Burning Bush, Nicholas Froment, ca. 1476

ADVENT 2B: Lectionary: 2 Peter 3: (8-10) 11-15a
Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness,waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire? But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace, without spot or blemish;and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.

God will come when God will come. We've heard that over and over. But, granted, this life of faith is difficult. How do you keep holding on to a hope when you often see no progress at all? How can we continue to be forced to wait for whatever it is for which we're waiting? Because, as the passage says, we are promised a new heaven and a new earth. We are promised that all of Creation will be recreated. We are promised that, once and for all, righteousness will have a home. Righteousness, then, will be the norm. Righteousness will be an everyday thing.

And in this Season of Advent, we learn to wait. Good things cannot be rushed. The plan for God's Kingdom was not made hastily and it cannot be just thrown together because we are getting a bit impatient with the whole ordeal. So, what do we do in the meantime? We live as if it's here. We live righteousness. We give it a home. The Holy and the Sacred is not unattainable. In fact, if we just open our eyes, it is spilling into our lives even as we speak. God does not sit back and watch us squirm and strain until all is said and done. Rather, God gives us glimpse after glimpse and incarnation after incarnation and waits with infinite patience for us to respond. Look around...there are more burning bushes and parted seas than we can ever possibly imagine. As the writer of the Epistle passage that we read this week maintains, it is that Holy Patience, that Waiting God in which we find our salvation. And so if we live as if the Holy and the Sacred has completely filled our lives, righteousness will indeed have a home and we will no longer be waiting for salvation.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of living as if righteousness and peace and the fullness of God is all you know.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Announcing the Beginning

2011-11-30T04:00:00.002-06:00

The Anunciation
Icon at St. Catherine's Monastery

Christmas is coming! We live this Season of Advent as if its purpose is to point to the beginning (or the "re-beginning"). We prepare for the coming of God! But think about it. Something happened nine months before. This human Jesus, like all of us, had to be grown and nurtured in the womb before the miracles started. March 25^th—The Feast of the Annunciation—is for some traditions the turning point of human history. It is in this moment that God steps through the fog into humanity and, just like every human that came before, must wait to be fully birthed into this world.

We Protestants sort of skip over the Anunciation. And then we start with Christmas and count back nine months. After all, it's just a bunch of waiting, right? OK, that works. Nine months before Christmas...But March 25th is traditionally regarded as the first day of Creation. (Now, really, I don't even BEGIN to say that THAT is a real date! But, it's as good as any, right?) So, let's go with it. March 25th is the beginning. The Anunciation...the announcement of the coming of Christ, the coming of God, into our little world...IS the first day of Creation. (You know, "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was...") So, begin at the beginning and count forward...to the birth of God into the world. Like Creation, the coming of Christ was the Light pushing the darkness away.

But the world, like any expectant parent, had to wait. Advent teaches us to wait. Advent teaches us that birth does not appear in a flash. Rather, birth, like all things that matter, is a process. And, it is definitely worth the wait.

God will come when God will come. But we don't want to miss the process of the birth.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of being a part of the process of birthing the world into being. But part of it means that you have to wait until it's ready to be.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

ADVENT 2B: Something Incredible is About to Happen

2011-11-29T04:00:00.003-06:00

ADVENT 2B: Lectionary: Isaiah 40: 1-5 (6-11)
Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. 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. A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 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. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

First of all, with all due respect to Mr. Handel's presentation, this passage was probably not originally written with us or our tradition in mind! This really is talking about the people of Israel. It really is talking about bringing comfort to a people who have wandered in the Judean wilderness. Probably written toward the end of the Babylonian exile, this writing offers a vision where a highway (a REAL highway) through the wilderness will be made level and straight. If, as most assume, this part of the book that we know as Isaiah was written after the exile, it would have been soon after 539 BCE when Cyrus of Persia conquered the Babylonians and, not really caring whether or not the Israelites stayed, allowed them to return to Jerusalem. So imagine a highway that, typical of the ancient world, would have originally been built to accommodate royal processions. And so God is depicting a highway made for a grand procession led by the Almighty.

The just-released exiles are returning. But to what? Their city and their way of life lay in ruins. They can't just go back and pick up where they left off. They have to feel that God has deserted them. They are looking for comfort. They are looking for solace. They are looking for God to put things back the way they were before. But God has something different in mind. Rather than repair, God promises recreation; rather than vindication, God promises redemption; and rather than solace, God promises transformation. God is making something new--lifting valleys, lowering mountains, and ultimately, when all is said and done, revealing a glory that we've never seen before.

In this Advent season, we are given the same vision. We are not promised solace. We are not promised that Emmanuel, God With Us, is coming to put our lives back together. In fact, can you feel it? The world has begun to shake. The valleys are rising; the mountains are leveling. Something incredible is about to happen. The light is just beginning to dawn. Life as we know it will never be the same again. Soon the fog will lift and we will see that the road does not lead back. It instead leads us home. But we're going to have to be willing to leave what we know.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of not going back so that God can show you the Glory that is about to be revealed.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Following Mystery

2011-11-28T04:00:00.005-06:00

16th century English poet and priest, John Donne said that "to love God is to follow the mystery, to be led by its showing and withdrawing." So, what does that mean...to follow the mystery? We live in a world where truth is defined as a collection of knowledge, as the accumulation of things known, of things proven. We do not do well with mystery. We attempt to conquer it, rather than follow it. We pray that God will somehow swoop in and finally clear all of this chaos up for us once and for all. We pray that God will give us understanding and easy roads. We pray for enlightenment. We pursue certainty. We try to figure it all out. And then Advent comes...

Behold! Hear this! Keep awake! Be not afraid! You see, things are about to change. The world as you know it is about to be shaken to its core or, at least, to its senses. All of those things that you have placed around you in at attempt to control your life will mean nothing. All of those expectations that you have wrapped around yourself in an effort to prepare for the future are probably keeping your hands from doing what they are meant to do. And as hard as it is for this "Type A" personality to admit, it is not our job to conquer the chaos of the world by organizing it into something that makes sense to us; rather, we are called to follow the Divine Mystery as it illuminates everything around us. We are called to open our eyes to see what God is showing us.

Don't get me wrong. I love preparing for Christmas. I love buying and wrapping gifts. I love Christmas trees and lights. I love baking and giving what I've baked away. And all of those things are on my "to do" list. But Advent is about mystery. It is about being open to the revealing of the One whom we cannot define or control. It is about being open to the possibility that God will enter this seemingly God-forsaken world not with loud, thrashing pronouncements so that we are certain that's who it is, but more like a whisper in the quiet of the night in a small town and an unkempt grotto in the midst of the chaotic reality of this world. Advent is about letting go of certainty and following the mystery.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of not needing to be certain, of not needing to have everything planned. Give yourself the gift of being open to the mystery that enters your life.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Awakening

2011-11-27T19:14:00.001-06:00

ADVENT 1B: Isaiah 13: (24-31) 32-37
³²“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.³³Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.³⁴It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch.³⁵Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn,³⁶or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

The first day of Advent...the first day of the Christian year...and (I know), the first day that I've written a blog posting in a really long time. We begin this Year B of our Lectionary year with a reading from The Gospel According to Mark, whose writer really just sort of skips over the whole Advent / Christmas thing and cuts right to the chase. Most over-personalized readings of this Scripture leave us with a fear of what comes next. (Oh my, am I ready? What's going to happen to me?) We quickly go to visions of those who are unprepared being uncomfortably ripped from what they know or, as a series of cult fiction writings would depict it, being flat out left behind! But keep reading...this is not meant to scare us; it is meant to wake us up. Sure, it is meant to remind us that there is something coming! We do not want to miss it. But, more than that, we do not want to miss the present spiritual awakening that we are all having in this very moment.

We have skewed our understanding of Advent a bit. I think all of us know that. But, really, can you blame us? The world is so bent on being prepared for what comes next that it tends to live one season ahead at all times--the Halloween decorations go up the end of August, the Thankgiving decorations go up the end of September, and the Christmas decorations go up the end of October. The twelve days of Christmas tide, will of course, be filled with merchandise sales, a couple of unreplaced burned out Christmas lights, and and a flowering of little red hearts filled with candy to make sure we're ready for the next thing. Somewhere in there, Advent is lost. Oh, we Christians, do alright with it. We faithfully light one candle at a time while we begrudingingly ward off the singing of any Christmas carols. But Advent is not merely a season of preparation for Christmas. It is much, much more. It is from the Latin "Adventus", which means arrival or coming. It is not really meant to be only a time of shopping and checking off our "to do" list for the December 25th festival. Rather, Advent is our awakening to the realization that the Divine is even now spilling into our lives, even now a new humanity is being birthed, and even now all of Creation is being reformed and recreated.

We cannot live one season ahead. God will come when God will come. The full revealing of what God has in store is yet to be. But this season of Advent, this season of waiting, awakens us that we might see that it has already started to be. The feast has yet to be set but the dancing has begun. All we have to do is learn to stay awake.

In this season of Advent, give yourself the gift of your own awakening to God's Sacred Presence that is all around you.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

And They Took Joseph to Egypt

2011-08-07T22:14:00.001-05:00

Lectionary Text: Genesis 37: (1-4, 12-22) 23-28:
So when Joseph came to his brothers, they stripped him of his robe, the long robe with sleeves that he wore;and they took him and threw him into a pit. The pit was empty; there was no water in it.Then they sat down to eat; and looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites coming from Gilead, with their camels carrying gum, balm, and resin, on their way to carry it down to Egypt.Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood?Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and not lay our hands on him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers agreed.When some Midianite traders passed by, they drew Joseph up, lifting him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. And they took Joseph to Egypt.

And they took Joseph to Egypt...so matter-of-fact, so simple, so explanatory. But far from being merely historical data, this six word sentence represents a turning point in the story. With these words the Genesis story turns the corner, moving from a story of a somewhat dysfunctional family as their lives are intricately woven with the breath of God to the story of a people growing into God's people. We begin to prepare for the Exodus story. Nothing will ever be the same again. We know what is to come--slavery, plagues, wilderness, and, finally, deliverance, redemption. This is the stuff of transformation.

When this Scripture (sorry, I cut off the first part!) was read this morning, I was struck by these words. I know that I've passed them over time and time again. After all, this is an important story and there's a lot to grasp--favorite sons, dreams, beautiful coats, family squabbles, murder, intrigue, conspiracy, enemies, slavery, lies. (And just for the record, I would like it to be noted that no matter what I did to my brother Donnie growing up, I NEVER sold him into slavery!) And then you take a breath and, oh yeah, "and they took Joseph to Egypt." What struck me is how similar those words are to some others:

Text: Matthew 17: 1-9
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

Today is the Feast of the Transfiguration. When I realized that earlier this week, I thought it was just odd. I mean, really, don't we celebrate that right before Lent begins? But the abrupt ending to today's Old Testament Scripture made me think a little bit more about it. In this Matthean account of the Transfiguration, the writer has Jesus and the disciples headed down the mountain. They were talking. Jesus warned them to be quiet about what they had just seen. And in the same breath, he gave them a foretaste of what would come. So, we have Jesus walking down the mountain. Where is he going? He's going to Jerusalem. And we know what happens there. This is the turning point. There is no going back. A new way of being has begun.

And they took Joseph to Egypt...And they took Jesus to Jerusalem.

We all have Egypts. We all have Jerusalems. They are those watershed moments in our lives that are bumpy and rough and uncomfortable. They are that way because it means that we have changed. We have been through a transition; we have been transformed; we have been transfigured into something else.

We don't know what Monday morning will hold for our economy. There are those who will say that our "best years" are behind us, those who yearn for the 40's and the 50's when the United States was "on top of the mountain." Really? I'm pretty clear that our African-American brothers and sisters will disagree with you. Are our "best years" the ones in which only some of us are on top? That's sad. I don't think so. Perhaps we're being sold to Egypt. I don't know. Maybe we've got a long wilderness ahead. Maybe we are walking down that mountain headed for who knows what. Maybe we will find ourselves in Egypt. Maybe we will find ourselves in Jerusalem. Maybe we will find ourselves enslaved by something we never saw coming or crucified by those who want to maintain things the way they are. Maybe there is a rough road ahead. Maybe not. Maybe our stocks will pop back up tomorrow and everything will be hunky dory. Maybe not. Whatever happens, we are in the midst of change. The road to change is not always an easy one. But somewhere on that road, we will find transformation. We will find deliverance. We will find redemption. But right now we've got to come down from the mountain...After all, I think it's WAY too cloudy to see what's going on up here. (Hmmm! Maybe that's our whole problem.)

And they took Joseph to Egypt...and you know what? No one was ever the same again. We've been to the mountaintop...now is the time to move on.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

One Who Is Mighty and Brave

2011-08-03T22:02:00.002-05:00

Lectionary Text: Matthew 14: 22-33
Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.²³And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone,²⁴but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them.²⁵And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea.²⁶But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear.²⁷But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”²⁸Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.”²⁹He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus.³⁰But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!”³¹Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”³²When they got into the boat, the wind ceased.³³And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”

One year ago today, I adopted a rescued Labrador retriever. He had been picked up in some place downtown where people throw food for homeless dogs. He landed at B.A.R.C. (For those non-Houstonians, that's the Bureau of Animal Regulation and Control. I think they used to call it the "city pound".) and was there, unbelievably, for three months. On the night before he was to be put down, someone at B.A.R.C. called Scout’s Honor Rescue and told them to come get this “wonderful little black lab” before they put him down. He was put into foster care and, unbelievably, I found him on the Internet with his own page asking to be adopted. (Isn’t technology amazing?) Somewhere along the way, someone had named him Vader, which I just thought was odd. So, I changed his name to Maynard. (Which, admittedly, YOU may think is odd!) It means “one who is mighty and brave”. It just seemed to fit for a rescue dog. He had been hungry and homeless and out in the elements. He had been caged and deserted and begging. But when he came home with me, it took a little while. He was enamored with the dog toys. He was amazed that there was dinner every night. He thought the yard and the walks were wonderful. But when I left him, there was a look in his eyes. I think he always wondered if I was really coming back. A year later, that look is not there. He has been swept into my unpredictable life. He has often been the last one picked up from his weekly daycare outing and a couple of weeks ago, he had to be “emergency boarded” because his owner got tied up at a hospital with a pastoral care visit. And yet, he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I will come and take him home. That is what it means to be one who is mighty and brave—not that fear no longer exists, but that it is no longer the controlling force in one’s life.

Recasting fear is not easy. Sometimes life is just scary. Sometimes life changes in an instant. And sometimes that unknown ending of life as we know it looms larger than we ever thought it would. Yeah, sometimes the winds and the waves pound so loudly that we can’t even hear ourselves think. Sometimes life is just scary. God never calls us to leave our fears behind. They are part of who we are. But faith empowers us to recast them, to reshape and remold them into something different. Think about the "recasting" of a thrown pot. You do not discard the clay; you simply remold it into something that works a little better.

Faith gives us the ability to recast fear into trust. God created all that is from chaos. Imagine what God could do with the chaos in our lives today. God is good at dealing with chaos. God has done this before. Our only job is to get out of the boat and trust that, when it’s all said and done, God will take the chaos of our fears and recreate them into trust in what God can do. “Do not be afraid”, for God has recast your fears into life. It is knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that God will always bring you home.

You see, faith is not a shield that we create that protects us from harm. It is not something that we accomplish or wear like a badge of honor. I don’t even think it’s something that is measurable. It’s not something that we check off of our “to do” list. Rather, faith makes us realize that we’re not in this alone. Maybe God will pull us out of the storm in the nick of time. Maybe not. I think it’s much more profound to believe in a God who will get in the storm with me, who will hold me, allow me to wrestle, allow me to fight against the waves. I believe in a God who doesn’t demean me or dismiss me for being afraid. Sure, I’m afraid! After all, there’s a big wave coming my way right now! What kind of semi-emotionally-adjusted human WOULDN’T have fears?

You know, Peter had fears. He admitted he had fears—ghosts, storms, death. Jesus never said to him that those were unfounded or baseless or stupid. Jesus just held out his hand and cheered him on. “Peter, you almost have it, hold on, hold on.” It is no different for us. In his 1833 Journals, Ralph Waldo Emerson said that “the wise man in the storm prays to God, not for safety from danger, but for deliverance from fear.” We need to trust our fears. They are part of our very being. They are part of the way God made us to be. But they don’t need to control what we do or who we are. There is a way to recast those fears into something that is life-giving.

Of what are you afraid? No, I mean REALLY afraid--that terrifying, nail-biting, knuckle-whitening feeling that washes over you like waves. Take it. It is your fear. It is real. And then trust, trust that God can create even from this chaos that consumes your life. I think God has done that before. In fact, I think God is REALLY good at it, sort of has it down to an art (or at least a promise we can trust.) And when God asks you to get out of the boat, go ahead. What's the worst that can happen? Maybe you'll sink to the depths of your soul, but God will sink right along with you. (Hmmm! God has done that before too!) And maybe, just maybe, if only for a moment, you'll walk on water. And maybe you won't. Does it really matter? Faith is not about always coming out on top. I don't even think it's about relying on God always pulling us out at the last minute. Maybe that's not what's going to happen! I think faith has more to do with knowing that God is there on the mountaintop and there in the depths of our existence. And THAT will make us one who is mighty and brave!

Happy "Adoption" Day Maynard!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Taking Care of Busyness (but not all!)

2011-06-29T21:37:00.001-05:00

I just returned back to work today after a couple of days off. It was wonderful! It was what I guess they're calling a "stay-cation". I just stayed at home and sort of "piddled". I got some (but not all) of the planting done, some (but not all) of the organizing done, some (but not all) of that "to do" list done, In my "but not all" times, I wandered through shops that I kept saying I wanted to visit, sat on the porch, and walked the dog. I bought an old concrete yard ornament that is a weather-beaten rabbit who has two (but not all!) of his ears. The antique dealer sold him to me for $18.00 and he's in my front flower bed in front of the porch. His name is now Chester and he has a home (which is the reason that the dealer agreed to sell him so cheaply!). And I went and bought fresh (I mean REALLY fresh) fruits and vegetables from a neighborhood market and then made up things that I could do with them. And, to top it off, I lost weight! Maybe "but not all" is a good thing on several levels!

We are a busy people! To tell the truth, even my "stay-cation" was wrought with emails and calls that were "work related". But they were important--so important, in fact, that I need to check emails and messages while I'm doing my self-prescribed "piddling"! So I was able set up some meetings and agreed to do another mentoring gig. Really? Am I THAT important? No, not at all. I think on some level I just don't want to lag behind the world. I'm letting the world and it's busyness lead my life. So what do you do?

I think you change the way you do things.  You alter the route of your life. I was watching something on TV during my time off. (Truthfully, I don't know what because I just had it on in the midst of the "piddling". Again, I watched some (but not all)!) Anyway, their was a test question asked as to whether one can improve his or her memory more by memorizing something or by changing one's route to work or some other place. Interestingly enough, the answer was by changing one's route. I think it's because it makes us look at things differently. It doesn't mean that we don't arrive at the place that we would have anyway; it just means that we got there a different way and probably paid more attention to what was along our path. Now don't get me wrong. I am a BIG ritual person. That is not what gets us in trouble. It's not the ritual of it. It's the rote of it. Look up "rote". One of the definitions is "from memory, without thought or meaning." "Without thought or meaning"? That's pretty scary.

You know, we've seen this theme before. Think about it.  The Scriptures are big on wildernesses.  There are lots of accounts of people just wandering around until they found where they were supposed to be. Maybe the point is not that they were lost but that they had found a different route! I think ritual connects and points us to God. But being open to changing the way that we walk may allow us to see the God who walks with us along the way.

So, here's what I think. I don't think iPhones are bad. I don't think ritual is bad. I don't think work and staying busy is bad. I don't even think that one's inability to say "no" once in awhile (but not all) is really all that bad. It's the WAY we do it.  Each of our lives is a work of art-in-process. Each step is a brushstroke filling the canvas with color and texture.  And eventually, that bright white light that you see is the blending of all of those colors. White is the most brilliant color of all. Without color, without contrast, the world is dark.

So, how do we take care of busyness?  Maybe it's only a matter of loosening it up enough to follow a different route. Maybe some (but not all) busyness isn't all that bad.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

...Robert Frost

Have a wonderfully busy week...just drive around a different block once in awhile!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Just An Ordinary Day

2011-06-26T15:35:00.002-05:00

Today we begin Ordinary Time. We made it through Lent and Eastertide and the spirit-filled days of Pentecost and Trinity Sunday. And now we begin that long stretch of time until Advent. It holds few "high holy" days, with the exception of All Saints Day and, for our church, the Blessing of the Animals. (Maynard is laying right below me on the floor, so I had to say that!) It's just ordinary, everyday time. And this beginning Sunday is just an ordinary day. Thanks be to God!

I love Ordinary Time. It's a chance to breathe in all that Spirit that has been swirling around us the last few weeks. It's a chance to soak in what has happened, a chance to sort of "catch up" with ourselves. There is a story of a nineteenth century explorer who journeyed to Africa and hired some of the villagers to help him navigate the continent. For the first three days, they walked at an incredible pace and took few breaks. He was pleased with how quickly they were moving. On the fourth day, though, they wouldn't move at all. He was angry, to say the least. After all, he was paying them to do this! When he asked them what in the world they thought they were doing, they told him that it was time to stop, to rest. It was time to let their souls catch up with their bodies.

I love that story. I think I need to hear it about every fourth day (or at least every seventh!). That's why we need Ordinary Time.  All this ascending and Spirit pouring into us can wear a person out. So, rather than filling us until our head explodes, God gives us the gift of time to breathe it all in and change our lives to fit our new way of being.

Today we read what is possibly one of the most difficult passages in the Bible. The story of the Sacrifice of Isaac (Genesis 22:1-14), taken at face value, is disconcerting, disenchanting, and downright shocking.  Read in this way, neither Abraham nor God really comes out looking that good. After all, what kind of parent would kill his own son? (Hmmm...I'll leave that one for later!) And what kind of God would expect someone to pass some sort of test as proof of faith. I used to hate this story.

But...breathe...let it sit...let it become a part of you. First of all, we need to realize that our English translation is limited by the English language. There are two meanings for the word "test". One denotes testing to discern whether or not standards are being met, to separate right from wrong. (You went there, didn't you?) The other is a sort of experiment. Think of a chemical test in which an entity is pushed beyond itself, a test in which something actually becomes something else.  If God was "testing" Abraham, perhaps it was so that Abraham would emerge changed, a new being. The point was not whether or not Abraham passed but whether or not Abraham transformed.

Rabbi Arthur Waskow claims that the best contemporary midrash to the Aqedah comes from Esther Ticktin. She says that the “strongest imperatives of Torah are to rear children and to break idols. What happens when we turn our children into idols? We must break our idolization of them—kill the image of of them we have erected…This is what God asked of Abraham: Lift him up to me: But Abraham had so totally made Isaac into his idol that he couldn’t fathom how to do it without killing him. The lifted knife was the breaking of the idol.” That was all God wanted—for Abraham to break the cast of any idols that he might have set between himself and God. God wanted Abraham to realize once and for all his own faith to trust in what God was doing in his life.

Maybe the point of the story is not whether Abraham got it right or wrong. I mean, when it was all said and done, who really cares anyway? God shows us over and over again that there is always another chance to see things in a different way. Ordinary Time is the time that we are given to break idols, to shift our perspective, to finally get it.  This story does not include such drama as burning bushes or parting seas or even stones rolled away. There is no dramatic wind or fire pouring down from the heavens.  What finally comes to Abraham is "wait"..."listen"..."think about what you're doing". Maybe Abraham finally questions all that he knew about God and saw God in a way that he'd never seen God before.

God never spoke to Abraham again. Abraham lived the rest of his days in Ordinary Time, just breathing in all that God had provided.

Have a wonderfully ordinary day!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

EASTER 2A: In the Shadow of a Doubt

2011-04-29T08:47:00.001-05:00

Lectionary Text: John 20: 19-31
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

This Scripture probably scares all of us a bit. Are we just supposed to believe unconditionally, take on a sort of blind faith without questioning, without trying to figure it all out? I don't really believe that (but maybe I have my doubts!). No, really, the Scriptues tell us to believe but nowhere does it say that we're not supposed to explore that belief. The truth is, we fault Thomas here and, yet, the others HAD seen. Of course they believed. Thomas, though, alone, had the courage and, I would say, the faith, to question it all. And Jesus gave him the gift of himself, the gift not of answers but of illumination. Thomas probably still couldn't explain to you how or why or even if it happened. He just believed that it did.

Swiss-born theologian and writer Hans Kung said that "doubt is the shadow cast by faith. One does not always notice it, but it is always there, though concealed. At any moment it may come into action. There is no mystery of the faith which is immune to doubt." Isn’t that a wonderful thought? Doubt is the shadow cast by faith. Faith in the resurrection does not exclude doubt, but takes doubt into itself. Faith is a matter of worshipping and doubting, doubting and worshipping. It is a matter of being part of this wonderful community of disciples not because God told us to but because our doubts bring us together. Examining our faith involves doubts, it requires us to learn the questions to ask. And it is in the face of doubt that our faith is born. God does not call us to a blind, unexamined faith, accepting all that we see and all that we hear as unquestionable truth; God instead calls us to an illumined doubt, through which we search and journey toward a greater understanding of God.

At the risk of disappointing some of you, going to seminary did not give me all the answers to the faith. It taught me how to ask the questions. I think that's what faith is about--not having the right answers all the time but having the courage and indeed the desire to continue asking those questions that lead us to a more illumined faith. Who is God? What is God to you? Who is Christ? What does it mean to be Christ in this world? What does it truly mean to show your brothers and sisters in this world what the Risen Christ means to you? The list is endless, far into the shadows up ahead. Faith is not about memorizing doctrines or dismissing questions in light of what some choose to call "orthodox" belief. And I don't think we're called to have the answers but rather to live a faith that becomes alive and illumined by our questions and our exploration and our continued search for what it all means in our life. That is the way we connect with God. That is the way we journey toward God. That is the way to living a life of faith that is propelled by our doubts rather than pulled down by them. Maybe our doubts are not supposed to live in the shadows of our lives but way out in front, pulling us into a greater understanding of this God that we so desire. Maybe a life of faith IS lived in the shadow of a doubt. Hey, remember what creates shadows? Light... Isn't that illuminating?

So in this season in which you see the Risen Christ, go ahead and doubt and then let it lead to faith, to the belief that it is so.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

EASTER 2A: Epilogue

2011-04-27T04:00:00.003-05:00

Lectionary Text: 1 Peter 1: 3-9
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who are being protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, even if now for a little while you have had to suffer various trials, so that the genuineness of your faith—being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

There's lots of "Easter" language in this text--new birth, living hope, resurrection. It speaks of all those things for which we hope, for which we look. But, truth be told, none of it can really be proven, now can it? The writer of this letter obviously has a strong faith, a faith that looks toward what will come, toward what we have been promised. And yet when you're hurting in the deepest part of you, what good does that really do? Perhaps this doesn't speak well for my level of faith, but it drives me positively crazy when someone responds to grief or deep despair by saying, "just put your trust in God and God will take care of it", or "God never gives us more than we can handle.", or (even worse!) "it's God's will". But you and I both know that most of the time you get up the next morning and it's just as bad or worse. And these sorts of comments are not only unhelpful; I think they're just downright mean and often harmful. The truth is, it IS my faith that gets me through times like this--not faith that God will fix it or make it go back to the way it was but faith in a God that is there with me every step of the way, faith in a God that will see me through the end and on to the next beginning.

This letter was first written to people who were going through some really tough times, possibly people who were suffering because they WERE who they were. They are not being promised a quick fix. In fact, there's a possibility that this is just not going to get any better at all. Faith is not believing that God will fix it; faith is believing that there is always something more, something beyond what we know, something beyond even this.

Come to think of it, there are lots of great stories that don't really end the way that you would have rather seen them end. I remember reading "Little Women" as a child. In fact, it may have been the first time that I really dealt with heartache and death. I liked the first part of the story much better when all four girls were there. After Beth died, no one and nothing was the same. I finished it and to this day, I love the story, but I just remember feeling so sad. It's not the only story like that--"Titanic", "Anne Frank", "Gone With the Wind"...the list goes on. The point is that sometimes (I would say possibly most of the time) life just doesn't go the way that you would have written it given the chance. Prince Charming almost never shows up with a glass slipper and whisks you away to material riches and a life without care. Suffering is part of life. We will all suffer, we will all grieve, we will all have something that doesn't go as planned. If we didn't, we wouldn't be real, we wouldn't be human. (I guess we'd be characters in one of those Harlequin Romances or something!)

Faith is not about the story going well; it's about knowing that there's an epilogue--the "word after the word". No, epilogues are generally not part of the actual story. Their purpose is to resolve the plot, bring it together, make it once and for all make sense. I think that's what faith is. It's not believing that God will fix the story but rather believing that God has already written the epilogue. In the meantime, go ahead and finish the story. I think this one's going to get better in the end!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

EASTER 2A: But...

2011-04-26T04:00:00.081-05:00

This Week's Lectionary Text: Acts 2:14a, 22-32
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. “You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law. But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. For David says concerning him, ‘I saw the Lord always before me, for he is at my right hand so that I will not be shaken; therefore my heart was glad, and my tongue rejoiced; moreover my flesh will live in hope. For you will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One experience corruption. You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence.’ “Fellow Israelites, I may say to you confidently of our ancestor David that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Since he was a prophet, he knew that God had sworn with an oath to him that he would put one of his descendants on his throne. Foreseeing this, David spoke of the resurrection of the Messiah, saying, ‘He was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his flesh experience corruption.’ This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses.

According to the writings of Acts, it seems that those who had been with Jesus did get on task pretty quickly and suddenly turned into witnesses rather than limiting themselves to being followers. This passage is part of Peter's "Pentecost Proclamation". You can hear the excitement in the voice of the writer. There really is a desire to get everyone on board, to let everyone see what the witnesses have seen, what the witnesses now know. The problem is that with most of us humans, there's always a "but", an excuse, a really, really, really good reason why we can't fully commit to what God is calling us to do.

At first reading, it seems that there exists a strong belief here in the notion of Jesus' death being "pre-ordained" by God. I'm not so sure about that though. If God did "pre-ordain" Jesus' crucifixion, does that also mean that God "pre-ordained" the Crusades, the Holocaust, and the terrorist act of September 11, 2001? I mean, where does it stop? Whatever happened to free will? Are we just pawns in some great divine chess game waiting for God to move us to the next place? I have to tell you, that's not my image of God.

As the Scripture says, I think God actually DID intend to hand this God Incarnate over to us, to give up a piece of Divine control, to invite us to respond to this incredible act of God literally walking in our midst. Think about it...you know how you take that favorite jacket to the dry cleaners? Life is not designed such that you can stand there and watch them check it in, go through the dry cleaning process, and hang it back in its environmentally-unfriendly plastic bag (yes, that was a little bit of a dig!), all the while making sure that it is properly tagged and identified and gets to where it needs to go. No, the truth is, you hand it over to the cleaner. Now, at the risk of comparing the Son of God to a really cute jacket, God handed over the human part of God to us. God relinquished control. It was up to us. But...but we messed up. No excuses this time! We royally messed up. We didn't like change; we didn't like being told that the way that we had figured out how to live was not the right way; and we didn't like the idea that we could no longer control our own destiny. So, we killed God. We lost the Divine in our midst, if only for a moment.

BUT..."God raised him up". BUT God stepped in and found what was lost, redeemed what was gone, and made alive what was once dead. THAT is what we are called to witness--not that something awful that God had supposedly "pre-ordained" happened, but that God had "pre-ordained" handing the very Godself over to us. And when we didn't respond the way we should have, God stepped in yet again--not to punish, not to "undo", but to take the worst of humanity and recreate it into the best of God. Now, my friends, THAT is a good story. THAT is something to which we can witness!

This is the season when God shows us how to be more than followers, how to be witnesses and doers, how to BE Christ in the world...no "buts"...we really are supposed to do it!

Christ is Risen! The Lord is Risen indeed!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

2011-04-25T04:00:00.002-05:00

The Region of Galilee
Taken February, 2010

Scripture Text: Matthew 28: 16-20
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Now what? What do we do next? What do we do now that the holy and the sacred, the very Divine, has spilled into our world? What do we do now that death has been vanquished and life has been recreated into something we couldn't have even imagined before? It seemed easier before, when we were being called to follow, being called to look to Jesus for our teachings, for our way of becoming what we should be. But now, we are not being told to follow. We are being told to "Go". Go? Go where? If Lent is our formative season, Eastertide is our becoming. It is the season when we become what we're meant to be--disciples--all of us. The disciplines we've learned and the teachings we've heard are now ours to embody. It is our turn, our turn to become the Word incarnate, to become the Spirit of Christ here on this earth. (And you thought Lent was hard!)

Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!

Following our exalted head, Alleluia!

Made like him, like him we rise, Alleluia!

Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!

(from "Christ the Lord is Risen Today", hymn by Charles Wesley, 1739)

So, go forth into the world, into your life. Go forth and become the Living Christ, the embodiment of the One who has Risen. But, remember, you are never alone. The very Divine has spilled into our world.

Christ the Lord is Risen! The Lord has risen indeed!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

So, really, what IS next? Well, I'm going to try my best to keep this blog going, maybe "semi"-daily. This has been a wonderful discipline for me and it really has given me life. So, maybe they'll be a little shorter, maybe a little more sporadic. And maybe in a few weeks, I'll try a book study through it or something. We'll just see where it goes. In the meantime, for those of you who are having this emailed to you, if you want to continue getting them, just do nothing and they will show up just like always. If you'd rather not get them, just let me know by dropping me an email. And if you know someone else that wants emails, they can do the same thing. If you just click on this link, you should be able to email me through St. Paul's website: http://stpaulshouston.org/form/online_form.aspx?formid=37

Thanks for journeying with me! Shelli

Maybe It IS About Us

2011-04-24T04:00:00.004-05:00

Scripture Text: Matthew 28: 1-10
After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

At last! The day for which we've waited, for which we've prepared, for which we've hoped is here! Alleluia! Christ is Risen!...Christ is Risen indeed!

Last evening, we had an Easter Vigil at St. Paul's. I have grown to love that service. I love entering the darkened, bare sanctuary and then being part of lighting it and filling it. It is joyful to see it come alive! As we were setting up, I got to do something that I had never done before. Michael and I unwrapped the brand new Christ candle. We opened the box and then worked together to unwrap it. It was wonderful. Both of us were grinning. It was like bringing new life into the world. You see, the Christ candle is the center of every worship service in that big Gothic sanctuary. We light this brand new, tall Christ candle for the first time on Easter and then it burns down through the year until it is sadly snuffed out for the last time on Maundy Thursday. This one had never been lit, never been a part of the service, never been viewed by any of us. And there is lay on the sacristy table with both of us staring at it. It was as if that acid-free tissue paper that we had peeled away was the rock itself that we rolled away. Christ is risen! Let the light of Christ illumine all!

And so this day, we light the brand new Christ candle and we joyously celebrate Christ's Resurrection. We finally get to sing "Alleluia" again after so many weeks of quiet and darkness. But what is it we're celebrating? Are we glad that Christ's death was not permanent? Well, of course we are. But if Easter is only about Christ's Resurrection, then the whole thing would have been for naught. You know, it's weird. We struggle all through Lent to let go of ourselves, to surrender. The reason we do that is because God has something else in store for us. It's called resurrection--no just Christ's, but our own! The whole purpose of Christ's Resurrection was to unveil our eternity, to show us what was coming for us, to lay the groundwork for not Christ's raising, but our own. So, do you believe that? You say you believe that Christ was raised. Why would the Resurrection even happen if God was not trying to show us our own. This is the Easter lesson. Jesus came and walked this earth as God-With-Us, Emmanuel, to lead us into communion with God, to show us eternity. Hmmm! Maybe it IS about us! But if it is, what do you plan to do with it? What does it mean to celebrate not only Jesus' Resurrection but our own? What does it mean for God to love you so much that God would recreate your life? So if your life is worth that much to God, what are you planning to do with it? Go now, roll the stone away...and reveal what God has planned for you! Alleluia!

And on the third day of this time

The tomb opened to the light

And there my Lord, who died before

Is risen in my sight.

Christ my Lord is Risen Today!

And gone is need to mourn,

For Creation lost has lived again

And life itself reborn.

I tell this story so that you’ll know

That death is not the end.

The journey turns and light returns

As each of us to life transcend.

So, on this day when we celebrate the Risen Christ, celebrate also the story of your own resurrection!

Christ is Risen! Alleluia! You are risen! Alleluia!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

NOTE: The "whole" Holy Week poem is on a page on my blog under "Other Stuff".

Vigil

2011-04-23T04:00:00.008-05:00

Scripture Text: Habakkuk 2:20
But the Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!

Silence...What do we do with silence? The world in which we live doesn't handle that well. We think we need to fill it, be the first to speak, be the first to resolve its discomfort, the first to solve its discontent. Why is that? Why do we need to fill every space, every moment, with "stuff"? This is the day of silence. It is our tomb-watch. We cannot DO anything...we must sit...just sit. And wait.

Yesterday, we lost the ultimate of control--control of ourselves, of our humanity, of our humaneness. Yesterday, all that was good and decent and life-giving in our life died, hung on a cross and buried in a tomb. This wasn't the way we MEANT for it to happen. Like Judas, we have our regrets, perhaps even struggle to live with what we've done.

But this day is not about what we've done. We need to get out of ourselves. We need to get over it, because, let me tell you, it is not about me, it is not about any of us. We need to stop wallowing in the self-serving aura of guilt. What's done is done. Humanity, I think, committed the ultimate sin. Humanity's greed, humanity's self-preservation, and humanity's ego tried to rid itself of God, of something beyond oneself, beyond one's control. But God is God and we are not. Thanks be to God! And in God's unfailing and unswerving love for what God has created, God forgives. Not only does God forgive, God recreates what we have uncreated and makes it better than before. The cross is God's greatest act of Creation yet. That is tomorrow's promise. That is tomorrow's hope. That is tomorrow.

And so this day, we wait. We cannot do what will be done. This is the day of silence, the day that God, behind the scenes, sets the stage, gathering all that God knows, all that God has created in the past, all heaven and hell alike, and begins to put everything into place, staging it for what it will someday be. This day is not ours. This day is God's. Tomorrow is another day, a new chapter to the story of which we are a part. Tomorrow will come. That is the promise. But, for now, we just have to wait, hold vigil, sit by the tomb where we have buried what we were. Because God has other things in mind. The Light of Life is about to dawn.

This is the day of silence. It is our tomb-watch. We cannot DO anything...we must sit...just sit. And wait.

The Saturday shadows fight the sun

Surely it’s all a dream.

We grieve our loss and quietly nurse our pain

While the world goes on in steam

Who then really is to blame?

Who’s fault do we imply?

Does it really matter now?

When innocence has died?

The world has lost all innocence

And yet no one need be judged to death

For hell this day has lost its place

Vanquished by God’s forgiving breath

This day is not for us to know

What happens in God's stead

This day we wait in silent vigil

While God moves on ahead.

On this day, this silent Saturday, just wait...there is nothing for you to do, there is nothing you HAVE to do...just wait...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Mary's Song

2011-04-22T04:00:00.005-05:00

Lectionary Text: John [18:1-19:15] 16-19 [20-25] 26-30 [31-42]
Then he handed him over to them to be crucified...So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew* is called Golgotha. There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, ‘Jesus of Nazareth,* the King of the Jews.’...When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfil the scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

I am standing here but it does not seem real. I want to hold him, to comfort him, to cradle him in my arms like I did when he was a baby. But the guards are holding us back. Oh, please, I don't think I can stand anymore. But I must stand. He has to know that I am here with him. He has to know how much I love him, how much I hurt for him, how I would trade places with him if I could.

All of the memories are flooding into my head. I remember that night when the angel came to me. I did not understand. I was so afraid. But I knew I had to say yes. I had no idea what I was agreeing to do. And then for nine months I carried the baby in my womb. It was joyous. In one respect, it was just like any other pregnancy, like the others I had after that. And yet, it was different. I always felt like there was someone there with me, guiding me, loving me, helping me through it. It's hard to explain. The birth itself was hard, downright scary in fact. We traveled to Bethlehem. It was so far, so painful. And then when we finally arrived, it was so crowded. The streets were wild. I remember that nice man who let us bed down in the room that housed his animals. I remember the first time I looked into his eyes--those dark, compassionate eyes. Even as a baby, he had compassionate, loving eyes. He was special. I knew that he was special when he came into the world. I just didn't know how wonderful he would be. I remember the day that my cousin's son baptized him. He didn't know I was there. I hid behind the trees. After all, he was an adult; he didn't need his mother always looking on. And I remember when his ministry started. He was so brave, so fearless. It scared me at times. I thought something like this might happen. But I am so incredibly proud of him. I am so proud of what he became, what he made others become that he touched in his life. He was special.

No, this does not seem real. Somebody needs to help him. Please, please, he's asking for water. Please, someone give him water. I'm afraid this is it. I'm afraid he cannot take it anymore. I'm afraid he's going to give up. Perhaps it would be better. Perhaps it is better to let go...Oh, how I love him! How I want to go back, to hold him just once more! It is over. It is all over. He is gone. What was this for? I don't understand. Why the angel? Why the star? Why did it all happen if it was going to end this way? What does God have in mind for him? He promised me that it would be for good. He promised me that it would be OK. I guess I have to believe that, hold on to it, hope. Someday maybe I'll see it.

I wanted to stay here until they gave me his body, but I don't think I can. There are others here too--Jesus' friend Mary, who has always been so lovely toward me, and the disciples. I hope they all realized how much he loved them, how he would do anything for them. The rain is really coming down now and the skies are angry, angry like me. The wind is blowing so hard, I can no longer stand against it. There are rocks and debris sliding down the mountain above us. It seems that the world is breaking apart. Will the world ever know what it has lost? Will the world ever know what it did? Will God ever forgive this world for killing my son, their son? Someone just told me that the temple curtain has split in two. It is as if the holy has spilled into the world. I can't explain it.

My son came into this world wrapped in so much hope. He was supposed to change the world. He was supposed to open the eyes of the world to what it could be, what it could become. Is it all for naught? Or, someday, will we finally understand why he came? Someday, I know, that God will make it make sense. But, now, today, I am grieving more than I could know. But what a gift I've had! What an incredible gift that was taken away all too soon! I have to leave this place, as hard as it is. Shabbat is starting in a few minutes. I must go prepare, light the candles, and usher in the joy of the Sabbath. I must go rest. I need it. I need it to resurrect my hurting soul. God will be with me.

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” (Luke 1:46-55)

Shalom, my dear Son! May God's Light stay with you!

Friday dawns like all other days

And then it turns to black

My Lord is there hanging till death finally comes

There is no going back.

And then my Lord dies a horrid death

While I just stand and stare,

All hope is lost, all life is gone,

There’s no use staying there.

And then the afternoon turns black as night

And angry skies yell out

It is as if all of Creation cries

In pain and grief and doubt.

We lay our Lord in a tomb of death

His body limp and gray

There is nothing left to do

But turn and walk away.

On this day when we remember the Crucifixion, let us grieve for awhile and then keep vigil with the expectant hope of whatever it is God will do next!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Cenacle

2011-04-21T04:00:00.110-05:00

The Cenacle As it Exists Today
Jerusalem, Israel

Lectionary Text: John 13: 1-17, 31b-35
Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.” After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them..."Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

The Cenacle, from the Latin cenaculum, or "Upper Room", is the place where this final gathering takes place. We usually think of this night as the night of "The Last Supper", when the Eucharist that we so dearly love came to be. And yet, the writer of the version of the Gospel narrative that we call John barely mentions the dinner at all. There seems to be much more focus on Jesus himself, on what he was feeling at this moment, and how he understood what was about to happen to him. So, if only for a moment, let us forget about the meal...

I visited the site known as the "Upper Room" when I was in Israel last year. Now understand that it's more than likely not the REAL Upper Room. No one really knows for sure where that was. The traditional site may have been built by the Crusaders possibily into a building that was already there and had survived the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 A.D. under Titus. But there was still something about going to this Upper Room. When I entered, my first thought was, "no, this can't be right! It's too big." I suppose all of the artistic renditions to which I've been exposed over the years had gotten the best of me. I had somehow imagined this stuffy little room in someone' attic.  This couldn't be right. Then I went back and read the Scripture text. No where does it say that the disciples were alone with Jesus. This was the Passover feast, which would have started with the traditional Seder meal including friends and extended family. And THEN Jesus got up from the table and went to the disciples.

But rather than looking at it solely as an historical event, think about what it really meant. Jesus knew that this was his final night. Everything was coming down to this place and this time--his birth, his life, his ministry--and he knew that things were about to change forever. And all he could think about in that moment was how much he loved those who had been with him. Yes, they were a little bumbling sometimes, maybe a little too focused on what was in it for them. And he knew that they really didn't understand the whole thing. But they had stuck with him. How he loved them! And so he gets up and kneels and washes their feet, taking each foot in both hands and caressing it like a parent caresses his or her child. It did not matter what they thought. It did not matter that they did not understand. And it certainly did not matter what anyone around them thought. This was the moment. This was the moment when he would teach them to love, would teach them to be vulnerable, would teach them to sit, to just sit there in the presence of their Lord.

It is hard for us to understand because it is hard for us to just sit and be in the moment, to shut out the world if only for awhile. But this moment is its own. For in this moment, Jesus does not think about what is to come. For just a moment, Jesus does not worry whether or not the disciples can do what needs to be done when he is gone. And for just a moment, this moment, here in this Cenacle, nothing else in the world matters--not the betrayal, not the denial, not the time when he will die alone and despised by most of the world.  Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. And so in this moment, Jesus loves.

It would be his final teaching.  I think it probably is THE teaching. Everything is swept into to this moment--this Announced, God-With-Us, Spirit-empowered, disciple-calling, teaching, healing, raising, anointing moment. It all ends with Love.

The Garden of Gethsemane
Jerusalem, Israel
February, 2010

After this, the Matthean version of the Gospel depicts Jesus going into the Garden of Gethsemane with his disciples and then going off to pray. It was his final surrender. As the night goes on, the events move faster, speeding through an almost surreal order--the betrayal, the handing over, the mock trial--until Jesus is supposedly imprisoned in a dark dungeon in the House of Caiaphas, the high priest. There he would wait the dawn of Friday morning.

We enter now that Upper Room

And take the wine and bread

And sit as our Lord washes our feet

When we feel we should be washing instead

A late night walk down a winding path,

Into the garden we go

And in the cold of night, Jesus says

Something that we already know.

For on this night it all will end

With naught but a single kiss

Our friend, our teacher, and our Lord

Surely it can’t be ending like this.

Our Lord Jesus now is whisked away

In a flurry of chaotic swarm

And we are left with a helpless silence

As the clouds gather for the storm.

The sun has set in blackest night

And my Lord lies in chains

What has brought us to this place?

Which of us is full of blame?

The Ruins of the House of Caiaphas
Jerusalem, Israel, February, 2010

As we come so near to the Cross, let us not grieve yet. Let us, just for a moment, love as Jesus loves.

Grace and Peace in this holiest of weeks,

Shelli

Et Tu, Judas

2011-04-20T04:00:00.005-05:00

The Judas Tree

Lectionary Text: John 13: 21-32
After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival”; or, that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night. When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.

Jesus knew who would betray him. It was his friend, the one that had accompanied him as he traveled around the lake teaching, the one who had met his family, the one who on those long nights after those just-as-long frustrating days had listened to him. In fact, it would be the one he trusted. The one who held the purse that bought them small but nourishing meals and paid their way, the one that had figured out how to budget the money so that they could get to Jerusalem. It was the one that had it together. It was the last one that he would have thought would do this. But Jesus knew who would betray him. It hurt, hurt more deeply than anyone would ever know. Et Tu, Judas? Even you, Judas?

"Kiss of Judas"
Duccio di Buoninsegna (1308)

The others will never figure it out. They are too busy trying to figure out who it is (and trying to make sure that it's not them!) Isn't that what we do? In an odd sort of way, this Scripture holds some degree of comfort for us. After all, Judas is bad, SO bad that whatever it is we mess up can't possibly be as bad. And so the world blames Judas for all of our wrongs. Because, if we make Judas look bad, then maybe we won't look as bad as we know we might be.  Dante would place him in the fourth level of the ninth rung of hell. Now let me tell you, that is NOT good. According to Dante's Inferno, Judas shares this rung with Brutus and Cassius, who played a part in the murder of Julius Caesar. (Et Tu, Brute?) We are no better. As long as there is a Judas, we
                                                                                       are not the worst.

But, really, do you think God desires our innocence? If that was the case, we might as well all hang it up right now! The truth is, none of us is innocent. Innocence died a really long time ago. And, interestingly enough, God didn't have any need to resurrect that. God does not desire our innocence; God desires us. God desires repentance, reconciliation, and redemption. God calls us to turn toward God, be with God, and accept that gift of forgiveness that God offers us. That's all it takes. If God wanted perfect people, I'm thinking God would have made them. God would have populated the world with a bunch of stepford pod-people and things probably would have gone a lot smoother.  I don't know...maybe God wanted better dinner conversation. Maybe God desired a good story. Or maybe, just maybe, God wanted us to choose God rather than being compelled by something other than ourself. And so God offers forgiveness for whatever we've pulled in the past. Barbara Brown Taylor, in Speaking of Sin, contends that it is sin that is our only hope.  Because it is when we know that we have failed, when we know that we have moved farther away from God, when we name what it is that stands in our way, that the doors will swing open with a force we never knew and all of a sudden, we find ourselves sitting at the table in a place that we did not think we deserved. Isn't God incredible? So, why do we need to blame Judas? We are all looking for God. Sometimes we just make bad choices. But God always offers us another chance. Forgiveness is the starting point for change, the beginning of the rest of our eternity.

Madeleine L’Engle tells an old legend that after his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent he looked up and saw, way, way up, a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards it. The walls of the pit were dank and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top, and then he slipped and fell all the way back down. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb again. After many more falls and efforts and failures he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around a table. “We’ve been waiting for you, Judas. We couldn’t begin till you came.”[i]

Et tu, Judas! Even you, Judas! Even you!

The path now seems to fly beneath us

And our doubts get carried away

We begin to question if we are more apt

To follow or betray

We hear the story of Judas’ deed

And quickly jump to blame,

But more than that we have to ask

If we might have done the same.

So, in this holiest of weeks, look first at yourself and find those places that separate you from God, and then look to God. The table is waiting. We can't begin till you come!

Grace and Peace in this holiest of weeks,

Shelli

[i] From “Waiting for Judas”, by Madeleine L’Engle, in Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2003), 312.

Unless A Grain of Wheat Dies

2011-04-19T04:00:00.002-05:00

Lectionary Text: John 12: 20-36
Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. The crowd answered him, “We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.

The tide has begun to turn. The palm branches and spilled perfume have turned to talk about death and we wonder how long we can take it. We live in a world that tries it best to avoid death, either literally or figuratively. We instead work to be in total control of our lives and of what happens to us. And so we push death away. But here Jesus is saying that it is death the brings life, that relinquinshing control and letting go allows the fruit to grow and prosper. That is totally backwards from what we have figured out our lives should be. So what, then, does this all mean?

This passage never really made sense to me until I discovered that wheat is a caryopsis. This means that the single seed of this plant remains joined with the ovary wall. Together, they form the grain. In other words, the seed does not remain a seed but rather dies to self and becomes the grain, a true metamorphosis into new life. In essence, death and life are interconnected, indeed dependent one upon the other. So, Jesus was using this as a metaphor for what would happen to him and, ultimately, what would happen to us. Our death and our life are interconnected. In this life, we find death. And then in death, we find new life. Abraham Heschel said that "eternal life does not grow away from us; it is planted within us growing beyond us." (Sabbath, p. 74) So, our life, our eternal life has already begun. It is already part of us.

So, why is this still difficult for us? I think that it is because when we start talking about death and crosses and dying to self, we have to face our own self in order to do that. No longer can we be satisfied with a Sunday-only sort of faith. No longer can we just talk about it. Dying to self calls for real change, real reflection. And perhaps change is more painful than death itself. The cross is the place where our humanity meets the Divine head-on. There is no holding back. There is no hiding away. There is no waiting for a better time.

But we still want some sort of proof. We still want to see Jesus. I'm pretty sure that the reason that we don't see it has more to do with us than with Jesus. I have many times been on a bus racing across some country with a group of people trying to see as much as I could see--the Highlands of Scotland, the Alps of Austria, the rolling lands north of Moscow, Russia, or the wilderness desert around the Dead Sea. Well, you get the idea. You have your own images. Oftentimes, rather than just sitting and enjoying the whole panoramic view, I have attempted to take pictures of it. Well you know that it is a near-fact that if you try to snap a picture from a bus of a panoramic view, you will instead get a tree, or a highway sign, or, my favorite, the side of another bus. It is not because the picture is not there; it is because you are moving too fast to see the whole thing. When you move too fast, you don't have enough space through which to encounter God, through which to see Jesus.

Jewish Cemetery near the
Old City of Jerusalem

Holy Week provides space, space enough to see the Cross, space enough to see the life that comes from death, space enough to let go, space enough to breathe in what God has given us. But this will not happen unless we slow down enough to let go of that to which we hold so tightly, let go of those things that you think you cannot live without, let go of those things that you are convinced are necessary for life. Because you know what? They're really not. Life cannot be unless a grain of what dies.

Our path has taken us through the city and we are getting nearer and nearer to the Cross. God never promised that we would not experience loss or pain or grief. They are part of our human existence. But at the Cross, there is enough space for the human to encounter the Divine. At the Cross, a very human death becomes new life as the Divine spills onto the seed of our humanity and becomes life. At the Cross, we will see Jesus.

And then the tide begins to turn

And talk of death ensues

But not just death for death’s dark sake

But death so life won’t lose.

We hear tales of wheat that when it dies

Leaves no seed behind

For the seed itself has died away

To itself bear fruit sublime

So, in this holiest of weeks, let go of that to which you hold, to that thing that you do not think you can live without.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

A Lingering Fragrance

2011-04-18T04:00:00.002-05:00

"Christ in the House of Simon"
Dieric Bouts, 1440's
(Staatliche Museen, Berlin)

Lectionary Text: John 12: 1-11
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.

You can imagine these friends around this table filled with wonderful-smelling food, telling stories and laughing together. And then Mary gets up and picks up this beautiful jar full of expensive perfume. She pours it lavishly on Jesus’ feet not caring how much she used. The smell of the perfume fills the room. And Mary kneels all the way down and wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair as it spills onto the floor. It is not the anointing itself that is all that unusual. After all, it was normal to anoint kings at their coronation and priests at their ordination. And, of course, anointing was a way to prepare a body after death. Mary was anointing Jesus her Lord and King and preparing him for what would come next. But those there missed that point. They were much more worried about this expensive oil that was now soaking into the stone floor.

Now you have to understand that women were not supposed to put themselves in a position of being the center of attention. And they were not supposed to touch a man that was not their husband. And for a woman to let her hair down in public would have been considered a disgrace. So as those present saw her, Mary was making a total spectacle of herself. And then she wastes all this perfumed oil. Judas surmised that it could be sold for three hundred denairii. If that were true, that would have been close to one year’s wages for a laborer. But Albert Schweitzer said that “if you own something you cannot give away, then you don’t own it, it owns you.”

Massada, Israel
Taken February, 2010

As for Mary, none of that mattered anyway. The love that she felt for Jesus just made all those things meaningless. She was truly overcome with love for Christ. And she wanted him to know that she got it. And so this act of extravagant generosity, this act of deep, incredible love, the kind of love that Jesus gave, becomes a sort of living embalming, an act that showed Jesus that Mary was with him on his way to the cross. Think about some of the language—Mary took, poured, and wiped. We will hear those same words this Thursday in the account of Jesus’ last meal: Jesus took the bread, poured out the wine, and wiped the feet of the disciples, and through these common gestures and such common touch, Jesus shows us what true love is. And as Mary takes, and pours, and wipes, she shows that same love toward Christ, and this small crowded house in Bethany becomes a cathedral and this simple meal becomes a Eucharist. Through her touch, through her love, the ordinary becomes sacred. Mary enters Jesus’ life and he becomes part of her. And God enters that very room and Mary feels the presence of the Divine. Her life becomes a sacrament that shows Jesus’ love to the world. And the whole world is now forever filled with the fragrance of that perfume.

Where do we find ourselves in this story? Jesus has begun the walk to the cross. Are we standing on the sidelines watching the events unfold as if it is some sort of prepared video stream? Are we holding back those things we have because the cost is just too great? Or are we waiting to see what the person next to us will do? I'm afraid that I'm probably not standing in the right place on the stage of this story. I'm afraid I probably AM too worried about the cost, about the loss, about what people will think. But each of us is called to take, to pour, and to wipe. Each of us is called to become a living sacrament of Christ’s love. Each of us is called to walk with Christ to the cross. Each of us is called to embody that close a relationship with the living Christ that we will be positively overcome with our love for God. Each of us is called to see, to hear, to smell, to touch, to feel, to laugh, and to love with the depth and passion of Christ. Oh, I want to be one that spills out all that I am and all that I have with utterly reckless abandon. Because, you see, that is the only way to experience that lingering fragrance that is still in the air.

So we follow our Lord hoping against hope

That soon the road might veer

And get us back to a place we know

A place we do not fear.

And then the fragrance of spilled perfume

Begins to cloud our head

The woman takes and pours and wipes our Lord

And we wonder what we would’ve said.

So, on this holiest of walks, ask yourself what it is that you're being asked to pour out for Christ and then do it joyfully until it spills onto and covers the floor of the world...

Grace and Peace in this holiest of weeks,

Shelli

Intersection

2011-04-17T17:22:00.001-05:00

Lectionary Text: Matthew 21: 1-11
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, “Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Last year when I had the opportunity to drive into Jerusalem for the first time, my senses told me that this was no ordinary place. Most cities have a character, sort of a defining theme. But this is a city of intersections. Coming together right here in this small city as cities go (only 49 square miles) is the old city, seemingly untouched by time, and the new sparkling buildings surrounding it. It is today, as it has always been, a place where the conflicts of both social politics and religious politics come together, not in unity but rather somehow choosing to live side by side with boundaries defined by centuries of distrust for each other and often heightened by physical expressions of that conflict. And, the most powerful for me, was the intersection of my own life that I live often comfortably removed from this walk of Christ with this entrance into these gates that I had read and heard so much about. It was almost surreal, as if I was being compelled to live the past and at the same time walk headlong into my future. Because it is easy to say that one follows Christ. But where are you when the crowd enters into this city where you don't feel unsafe but you don't feel at ease? Intersections are indeed places of faith, places where God meets you, places where you have to choose to follow or not.

The Palm Sunday Road
Taken February, 2010

Most of us love the Palm Sunday passage. We like waving our palms and processing into the sanctuary as we did this morning. We like being a part of this Hosanna crowd. But this is no ordinary parade. Winding down the narrow Palm Sunday Road from Mt. Olivet through the Garden of Gethsemane, there is no room for bystanders, no room for those of us that want to just see it and then sneak off through the olive trees. The road is steep and propels us forward toward the Eastern gate of the city.

In their book "The Last Week", Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan, contend that this was one of two parades. The other was a grand and glorious Roman royal military parade coming into the Western gate. The juxtaposition of these two processions would have set up quite a contrast. Once came as an expression of empire and military occupation whose goal was to make sure oppressed people did not find deliverance. It approached the city using horses, brandishing weapons, proclaiming the power of the empire. The other procession, using a donkey and laying down cloaks and branches along the road, was coming quietly, profoundly proclaiming the peaceful reign of God. Their contention is that our whole Palm Sunday "celebration", as we call it, was a parody of the world as we know it, a satirical reminder that we are different.

Now whether you adhere to the notion of the two parades or not, I think it's a powerful reminder to us what this processional of palms really meant. Jesus had already made a name for himself from even as far away as Galilee. But this was the city, the bustling intersection of Roman occupation and religious doctrine. And when Jesus entered through the Eastern gate with his funny little entourage brandishing palms, even that was proclaiming blasphemous ideals (because remember that it had been prophesied that the Messiah would enter through the Eastern Gate, also known as the Messiah's Gate and the Golden Gate).

Then he brought me back to the outer gate of the sanctuary, which faces east; and it was shut. The Lord said to me: This gate shall remain shut; it shall not be opened, and no one shall enter by it; for the Lord, the God of Israel, has entered by it; therefore it shall remain shut. Only the prince, because he is a prince, may sit in it to eat food before the Lord; he shall enter by way of the vestibule of the gate, and shall go out by the same way. (Ezekiel 44: 1-3)

Street in Jerusalem
Taken February, 2010

So once they had entered this gate, this "parade" that we celebrate would have been on a clear collision course with power and might and the way things were in the world. Once they had walked into the city, these two worlds, these two ways of being, would have collided. It is easy for us to stand on the side and wave our palm branches but Palm Sunday thrusts us into something else. It is an intersection of Galilee and Jerusalem, of Jesus' ministry and Jesus' Passion, of establishment and holy rebellion, of the ways of society and the Way of Christ. This Palm Sunday processional, if we stay with it, thrusts us into Holy Week. That is the reason that this is known as Palm / Passion Sunday. You cannot disconnect the two notions. This Way just keeps moving. Where are you in the crowd? The Way of Christ has turned toward the Cross. Will you follow or go back to what you were doing?

On this day we joyously follow the crowd

Palms in hand and praises fair

Unaware that just inside the city gate

Worlds collide and tempers flare.

And we are faced with the choice

Between silent acquiescence and faith portrayed

For one will pacify the world we know

And one will take us farther along Christ’s Way.

As we enter this holiest of weeks, we must decide whether or not to follow.

Grace and Peace in Holiest of Weeks,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Metamorphosis

2011-04-16T04:00:00.003-05:00

Scripture Text: Matthew 17: 1-9
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

So here we have the story of a child born into anonymous poverty and raised by no-name peasants. He grows up, becomes a teacher, probably a rabbi, a healer, and sort of a community organizer. He asks a handful of people to become his followers, to help him in his mission. They leave everything they have, give up their possessions and their way of making a living, they sacrifice any shred of life security that they might have had, and begin to follow this person around, probably often wondering what in the world they were doing. And then one day, Jesus takes them mountain climbing, away from the interruptions of the world, away from what was brewing below. Don’t you think they were sort of wondering where they were going? Oh, if they only knew what would come! And there on the mountain, they see Jesus change, his clothes taking on a hue of dazzling, blinding white, whiter than anything they had ever seen before. And on the mountain appear Moses and Elijah, standing there with Jesus—the law, the prophets, all of those things that came before, no longer separate, (and certainly not replacements one for the other) but suddenly swept into everything that Christ is, swept into the whole presence of God right there on that mountain.

So Peter offers to build three dwellings to house them. I used to think that he had somehow missed the point, that he was in some way trying to manipulate or control or make sense of this wild and uncontrollable mystery that is God. I probably thought that because that’s what I may tend to do. But, again, Peter was speaking out of his Jewish understanding. He was offering lodging—a booth, a tent, a tabernacle—for the holy. For him, it was a way not of controlling the sacred but rather of honoring the awe and wonder that he sensed. And then the voice…”This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” OK…what would you have done? First the mountain, then the cloud, then these spirits from the past, and now this voice…”We are going to die. We are surely going to die,” they must have thought. And then Jesus touches them and in that calm, collected manner, he says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And then, just as suddenly as they appeared, Moses and Elijah drop out of sight. In Old Testament Hebrew understanding, the tabernacle was the place where God was. Here, this changes. Jesus stays with them alone. Jesus IS the tabernacle, the reality of God’s presence in the world. And all that was and all that is has become part of that, swept into this Holy Presence of God.

And so the disciples start down the mountain. Jesus remains with them but he tells them not to say anything. The truth was that Jesus knew that this account would only make sense in light of what was to come. The disciples would know when to tell the story. They saw more than Jesus on the mountain. They also saw who and what he was. And long after Jesus is gone from this earth, they will continue to tell this strange story of what they saw. For now, he would just walk with them. God’s presence remains.

The Greek term for “transfiguration” is “metamorphosis”, deriving from the root meaning “transformation”. It is, literally, to change into something else. There is no going back. The truth is that the disciples probably got a little bit more of God’s presence than they wanted. Because there was more than just Jesus changed on that mountain. The disciples would never be the same again. We will never be the same again. The Hebrews understood that no one could see God and live. You know, I think they were right. No one can see God and remain unchanged. We die to ourselves and emerge in the cloud. The truth is, when we are really honest with ourselves, we probably are a little like the disciples. We’d rather not really have “all” of God. We’d rather control the way God enters and affects our lives. We’d rather be a little more in control of any metamorphosis that happens in our lives. We’d rather be able to pick and choose the way that our lives change. We’d rather God’s Presence come blowing in at just the right moment as a cool, gentle, springtime breeze. In fact, we’re downright uncomfortable with this devouring fire, bright lights, almost tornado-like God that really is God.

Remember the words of the Isaac Watts hymn: “Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were an offering far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.” God’s power is God’s power. It does not just come to us; we enter it—taking with it all that we are. It is not a warm and fuzzy relationship; it is wild and risky, full of awe and wander. It is mystery. It is more than anything that we can possibly imagine. It is a complete and total metamorphosis. There is no going back.

This account of the Transfiguration of Jesus seems to us that it should be the climax of the Jesus story—the quintessential mountain-top experience. After all, how can you top it—Old Testament heroes appearing, God speaking from the cloud, and Jesus all lit up so brightly that it is hard for us to look at him. But there’s a reason that the lectionary places this reading immediately before we begin the journey to Jerusalem. In some ways, it is perhaps the climax of Jesus’ earthly journey. Jesus tells the disciples to keep what happened to themselves, if only for now. And then the lights dim. Moses and Elijah are gone, and, if only for awhile, God stops talking.

Have you ever been mountain climbing? The way up is hard. You have to go slowly, methodically even. You have to be very careful and very intentional. You have to be in control. But coming down is oh, so much harder. Sometimes you can’t control it; sometimes the road is slick and seems to move faster than your feet. And sometimes, through no fault or talent of your own, you get to the bottom a little bit sooner than you had planned. Yes, it’s really harder to come down. Jesus walked with the disciple in the silence. The air became thicker and heavier as they approached the bottom. As they descended the mountain, they knew they were walking toward Jerusalem.

The Transfiguration is only understood in light of what comes next. Yes, the way down is a whole lot harder. We have to go back down, to the real world, to Jerusalem. We have to walk through what will come. Jesus has started the journey to the cross. We must do the same.

Jerusalem, Israel
February, 2010

Just outside Jerusalem we came to a gate called Truth. We called to the gatekeeper to let us in. “The latch is not on,” he replied. “Anyone who will can enter.” We went closer, but seeing how great and how heavy was the gate, we looked for a way around. There must be a way around…The pilgrims trudge toward the death of God. Only with bowed heads and closed eyes will they be able to see the way to Jerusalem. (from Kneeling in Jerusalem, by Ann Weems, 63-64)

Our Lenten journey is rounding the bend and we see the city up ahead. The path has changed us. So, go cut a palm branch and I will see you in Jerusalem!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Orthodoxy

2011-04-15T04:00:00.003-05:00

Scripture Text: Matthew 5: 1-18
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished.

I'm no real Bible scholar but I think this passage is indeed the pinnacle of Jesus' ministry. This is the lynchpin, the place where it all comes together, and, sadly for this world and this culture, the place where Jesus' message begins to turn away from an affirmation of what we do as "religious folk" to a calling to go forth and do something different. This passage turns orthodoxy around.  Orthodox...what an interesting and misdefined word. It has come to define the "accepted" beliefs of the church, the traditional views. In essence, it has come to mean the opinion of the majority. But history has shown us that that has often proved to be problematic.

Here's a date for you: April 15, 1947...on this day, 64 years ago, Jackie Robinson debuted with the Brooklyn Dodgers and, against all odds, broke baseball's race barrier and made history. But, like most history, he had help. Just before he was signed, the pastor of Plymouth Church of the Pilgrims in Brooklyn had a visitor. The visitor's was Branch Rickey, already well-known. They didn't have a deep pastoral care talk. Rickey just paced. And the minister went about his work. Then Rickey plopped down in a chair and screamed, "I've got it." "I'm going to sign Jackie Robinson to the team." There were warnings. A well-known reporter said that there would be riots in the street on this day. Rickey instead believed that all of heaven would break loose. (Check out Signing of Jackie Robinson )

The point is that it was time for a change. It was time for a new way of doing things. "Orthodoxy" actually means "right belief". What is "right"? What does that mean? You see, I think of myself as "orthodox". I'm actually extremely traditional, even though I think that word gets a bad rap. I mean, regardless of all of the church growth movements that profess to have the "ortho-statistics" for churches, I love traditional worship (I mean, REALLY traditional!) worship. Give me a robe, a processional behind a crucifer, and a couple of Latin chants thrown in for good measure any day against screens and a preacher doing some sort of skit as he blocks my view of the altar. But, really, that's not belief. That's just where God meets me. The point is, we all think of ourselves as "orthodox", as right. But right belief is this...the Beatitudes...the antithesis of this world. It is a moving forward. Hmmm! OK, maybe I AM a "progressive".

One thing to note is that the form of these Beatitudes uses two verbs: are and will. Each beatitude begins in the present and moves to future tense. It is the "orthodox" way of thinking. The move to the future tense indicates that the life of the kingdom must wait for ultimate validation until God finishes the new creation. The Kingdom of God moves forward. It is so far ahead of where we are, it's not even fully visible at this point! In essence, it is the new "right belief", the new orthodoxy.  It is a way of living based on the sure and firm hope that one walks in the way of God and that righteousness and peace will finally prevail.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said this: Humanly speaking, we could understand and interpret the Sermon on the Mount in a thousand different ways. Jesus knows only one possibility: simple surrender and obedience, not interpreting it or applying it, but doing and obeying it. That is the only way to hear his word. He does not mean that it is to be discussed as an ideal; he really means us to get on with it.
The Beatitudes lay out a vision of a reversal of the world we know. Jesus calls us to a radical kingdom that is totally different than the world in which we live. And he calls us to "get on with it". Now don’t think that Jesus is merely laying out the conditions under which we would be blessed or prosper. It is rather a promise of a radical reversal, an upside-down (or right-side-up) world. It is a promise from a God that wants the best for us, a God that sees that we will indeed be blessed. That is the promise—a blessed relationship with God. So this is a picture of what that Kingdom looks like. It is the way it should be and the way it will be. The Beatitudes are meant to be descriptive rather than instructive.

So, where does that leave us? We live in a divisive world, a divisive country, and a divisive church. We all claim to be "orthodox", "right". This is hard. We walk a fine line between causing more division and proclaiming what we believe to be right. Now, really, we need to realize that what we believe to be "right" does not make it "right". Maybe that's our whole problem. I keep hearing of person who profess to be "bridge builders". Well, that sounds really politically correct and all. In fact, it even sounds attractive. Sure, I'd like to join a bunch of bridge-builders, the peaceful ones, the ones who get along with everyone. OK...here is the problem. Where are you headed? Bridges are not meant for permanent residence. Are you going forward or backward, left or right, to the future or the past? You have to CHOOSE! That is the whole point of this passage that contains what we commonly call "The Beatitudes". You see, things are different.  (And if they're not, this passage professes that they should be!) What you think is, is not. And that to which you've held so tightly is decaying away as we speak. Orthodoxy has changed. In fact, Jesus is the one that changed it! "Right" belief has changed.  God did not come in Jesus with a message of "Great job, folks, you have it altogether. Don't change a thing!" No, the message probably reads more like, "You know, I love you more than you could possibly know. But you are a mess! Listen...come and see...there's more to the story than you think you know!"

You know, until 56 years ago, women could not be ordained in the United Methodist Church. (And yet I still get assigned weddings that are upset because I am the wrong gender!) And, as I said, the race barrier in major league baseball was not broken until 1947. (But we didn't have an African-American president until 2008.) The truth is, things move very slowly. So much for a reversal of the status quo! And our churches still continue to exclude those in our midst who do not claim the "orthodox" sexual orientation. I really don't understand it. Surely we know better. Surely we understand that this depiction of the alternative way of being that Jesus depicted in The Beatitudes is not a pipe dream. It's really meant to happen. It's the vision of God that God brought into the world in Jesus Christ. It's the vision of the world that God holds for us even now. It's all the children of God in the whole Kingdom of God. It's called Shalom, or the Kingdom of God, or the Reign of God.

But on some level I admire bridge-builders. They are those that play both crowds--the conservatives and the progressives, the establishment and the rebels, the pharisees and the disciples. You see, all of us are right about SOMETHING. But none of us are right about EVERYTHING.  Those bridge-builders can point that out. The truth is, though, I'm probably too impatient to be one. I want things to change. I want the world to look like The Beatitudes. I want the world to be what God envisions it to be. But even bridges tend to decay, becoming weather-worn and rotten. Life moves. It moves fast. And if you don't keep walking, you're no longer a bridge-builder. You're either in danger of falling fast into the underlying currents and being carried away into who knows where or you're just someone that's sitting in the way while people are trying to cross.  It's better to keep moving. After all, God is way out ahead of us.

OK, one more time...I really am orthodox. I really do adhere to "right belief". I just think it's a whole lot farther ahead than any of us imagine. It's a matter of doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly. Oh wait, someone already said that! In other words, our faith is measured not in "rightness" but in relationship. Orthodoxy, "right belief", is about relationship. It is about welcoming all of God's children to the table as the reign of God, the Spirit of the most holy, spills into our midst. Emmanuel, God With Us. Isn't that the crux of the story?

But lynchpins are threatening. They change the direction. They change what we think. They change the world. They change us and who we appear to be to the rest of the world. Up until now, everything has pointed to this-the announcement, the birth, the baptism, the calling, this...--as if this was the message, as if this was what the world needed, as if this was the way to the vision that God for us. Now we wait. We wait to see how the world responds. And we turn toward Jerusalem...

So, in this Lenten season, begin to live a life of reversal, so that as the Divine spilled into earth with the coming of Christ, the earth might become the vision of the Divine in you.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Called to this Work

2011-04-14T04:00:00.010-05:00

Scripture Text: John 1: 1-4, 29-42
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people...The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o”clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).

The writer of John's version of the Gospel According to Jesus Christ presents this as a sort of "prelude" to Jesus' ministry. This passage begins by celebrating Jesus' origins, tying them back to the very beginning of Creation, tying them back to the Creator of us all. Then we are given a witness by John the Baptist attesting to who Jesus is, reminding us that this Jesus Christ is the one whose coming was announced by the angel, the one who was born years before in that dark grotto in Bethlehem, the one who he himself had baptized and who God's Spirit had entered. This was the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Now it was time to begin the work. This was Jesus' calling to ministry. And what did he do first? He called others, saying, "Come and see...come and see what you haven't seen before."

Now I know that often when we talk about “calls” from God, many of us squirm in our seats a little. Calls are something that a lot of people limit to clergy. But as early as the Hebrew Scriptures, we read of a qara, which means to call, call out, recite, read, cry out, proclaim, or name. The word was used both as a summons or a general call as well as a specific election, the calling of someone to do a specific task that needed to be done. And, here’s the point—the call is to everyone. It is that voice, sometimes silenced by our busyness and our preconceptions, that is buried deep within our being. It is that voice that calls us to be who God created us to be. But you will notice that God doesn’t just throw a blanket over humanity to see who will pick it up. And nowhere in the Bible does God really ask and wait for volunteers. The call to each of us is very unique and specific. God calls us to our own part of God's creation, our own part of the Kingdom of God that is ours to build. God calls us to walk this road to Jerusalem.

Note here that two disciples follow Jesus as a direct result of John’s witness. John showed them the light. And then two others are called. One is named Andrew we are told, who then gathers his brother Simon Peter. Both become disciples. But the other one that is called is unidentified here. We are not clear who this is. This anonymity is reflective of the writer’s understanding of discipleship as a broader vision. (In essence, the “other disciple” is us!) Discipleship is meant for all of us. Yes, all of us! And when Jesus calls us to follow, the answer is always “come and see”. You have to come and see for yourself. God calls, God names, and God calls each of us by name. Just, come and see!

So how do we respond? What does it mean to respond to our call from God? What does that look like? That calling is to each of us to become the part of God’s Creation that we are called to be. It is at the very center of who we are as followers of Christ. And nowhere in the Scriptures do we read of calls from God like "Hey, if you're not too busy, on your way home from work, could you feed some homeless people?" or "Listen, I don't want you to inconvenience yourself, but when you have time, could you speak out against injustices in this world?" or (my favorite!) "OK, once you've "made it", once you have all of the money that you need to be secure and you are completely adept at what I'm calling you to do, then, very carefully, so as not to make yourself uncomfortable, could you follow me?" God does not call perfect people. God calls us.

The “called” life is one of tensions and convergences and wonderful coincidences that God melds together into a wonderful journey of being. It seems that God is continually calling us into places and times that we’ve never been, constantly empowering us to push the limits of our “comfort zones”, to embark on a larger and more all-encompassing journey toward a oneness with God. It seems that God always calls us beyond where we are and beyond where we’ve been, not to the places that are planted and built and paved over with our preconceptions and biases but, rather, to places in the wilds of our lives with some vision of a faint pathway that we must pave and on which we must trudge ahead. Thomas Merton says that “there is in all visible things…a hidden wholeness.”[i] It is the image of God in each one of us that must be reclaimed and nurtured so that we might take part in bringing about the fullness of Creation, in bringing the Reign of God into its fullness. Perhaps, then, the meaning of calling is not one in which we launch out and pursue a new life but is instead one that brings us to the center of our own life, one that brings us home, back to the womb, back to God. T.S. Eliot says that “the end of all our exploring… will be to arrive where we started…and know the place for the first time.”[ii]

So, back to the story. This is the beginning of Jesus' ministry. This is the beginning of his own walk and his own work. We don't usually think of Jesus being "called". We're more comfortable just imagining him already there, as if he dropped into our lives already formed. But that's not the way it works. God did not just plunk down into our human existence without any connection; rather, God in Jesus inserted the Divine Calling into a long, successive line of called ones--some who were ready and some who were not, some who went willingly to do what they were asked to do, and others who fought the fight of their lives to keep it from happening and lived to tell the tale of encountering God--and it keeps going. So Jesus had to be called. It's what it's about. Jesus was formed and then called and then called others who called others who called others...well, you get the drift! And one way or another, they responded. Jesus was not the lone ranger. And those that he called went. They were nothing special--just ordinary people like you and me. They were ordinary people asked to take on the work of discipleship and they ended up with a life that they never could have foreseen or imagined. It is in the ordinariness of our lives that God calls us and asks us to join in the work, to join with Jesus Christ in this work of ministry, to walk with Jesus on this walk to Jerusalem. Come and see! It will be magnificent! And the work has begun...

So, in this Lenten season, listen for where God is calling you and then...come and see! Because that is the way to Jerusalem...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

[i] Wayne Mueller, How Then Shall We Live? Four Simple Questions that Reveal the Beauty and Meaning of our Lives, (New York, NY: Bantam Books, 1996), 3

[ii] T.S. Eliot in Pilgrim Souls: An Anthology of Spiritual Autobiographies, ed. by Amy Mandelker and Elizabeth Powers (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999), 146

WALK TO JERUSALEM: From the Water

2011-04-13T04:00:00.002-05:00

The Jordan River,
Yardenit Baptism site, near the Lake of Galilee, Israel
Taken February, 2010

Scripture Text: Matthew 3: 13-17
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

The reading begins simply: “Then…” It is such a common connector, that we probably sort of gloss over it. But look a little more closely. It wasn’t just the thirty years that Jesus had waited to commit to public ministry. It was the centuries upon centuries and ages upon ages that all of Creation had waited for the dawn to break. In essence, from that very moment when we are told in the first chapter of Genesis that God’s Spirit swept over the face of the waters, Creation has been groaning and straining for this very moment, the very moment when life would emerge from the water.

Thirty years was, in fact, the traditional time that a rabbi waited to be committed to God. In those thirty years, Jesus would have been caring for his mother, and making a living, and preparing himself for ministry. I don’t really think that, contrary to what some may say, Jesus was confused about these roles. He was always serving God. But now…then…the time had come. And as eternity dawns, Jesus is ready to begin. And so he goes to John at the Jordan to be baptized and for a very short amount of time was then actually a disciple, a follower, of John’s. And, from the water, the work has begun. From the water, the heavens are opened and the Spirit emerges. And we hear what all the world has always been straining to hear: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Even though the writer of the Gospel has presented Jesus as the Son of God in the birth story, it is not until this moment that the title is actually conferred. From the water, comes Jesus Christ as Savior and Redeemer of all of Creation. From the water, comes a new Spirit. From the water, comes life.

What is it about the water in the River Jordan that so fascinates us? It’s wet and its cold—it’s just like any other water—and yet for more than 2,000 years, we have been captivated by it. When I had the opportunity to go to Israel last February, I, like most Holy Land tourists, could not wait to touch the water in the Jordan River. When that day that had the Jordan River on our itinerary arrived, I was so looking forward to it. This would be the place…this would be the place where I would connect with Jesus Christ. Well, at the risk of bursting your idyllic Jordan River bubble, I was really disappointed. I imagined a calm and contemplative place on a quiet and peaceful river where I could have a high spiritual moment. Instead, I got Disneyland. The truth is, they have recently moved the place commemorating where Jesus was baptized (yes…I thought that was a little odd too! The truth is, there are many views of where Jesus' baptism took place and this one is probably the safest!) and have built a large, modern complex with a huge gift shop where busloads of people buy white robes tastefully monogrammed with the Jordan River Corporation logo so that they can get into the water and be baptized (again and again and again...). But we paid our money and went through the turnstiles and made our way to a place on the river. I hated the noise; I hated the crowds; but the river was beautiful. Somewhere in its depths, there WAS a peace, a calm, a contemplative, spiritual moment of peace. We found a place and had a short service renewing our Baptism. (And in the process had some people get upset with us because we were apparently taking prime real estate and never intending to be “really” baptized. Those [already-baptized] Methodists just always get in the way, don’t they?) And then, one by one, we walked down to the river, placed our hand in the water, and touched our forehead, reminding ourselves that we are Beloved, a son or daughter of God with whom God is well pleased. And in some way from the water, I did have a moment. In the midst of the yelling and the crowds, and the cold, modern structures, I felt the water and I felt Christ. From the water comes life.

The truth is, there is nothing special about the water in the Jordan. There is nothing special about our own baptismal water.The truth is, when I fill the baptismal font, I usually get the water out of the second floor ladies bathroom. (At any point in time, Creation lends water both to the Jordan and the sink in the ladies restroom at St. Paul's! It's all the same!) It’s just ordinary water. But something happens. From the water, comes life. As in the beginning of Creation, God’s Spirit once again sweeps over the waters. And from the water, our life comes. But it is up to us to do something with it. The waters are not made holy because Jesus was baptized in them; they are not made sacred because we clergy stand up there and bless them; the thing that makes them so incredible, so of God, so filled with life, is that from the water emerges the one that we are called to be, the son or daughter of God with whom God is well pleased.

In this Lenten journey, we are once again called to remember our baptism, to remember what gives us life. Because, you see, that is the way to Jerusalem...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: The Birth of God

2011-04-12T04:00:00.002-05:00

The Traditional place of Jesus' birth beneath
The Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, Israel
Taken February, 2010

Scripture Text: Luke 2:1-20:
In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

"In those days, a decree went out."...There it is! It is probably the best known story of all time and a great story it is--forced occupation, poor couple, long trip, impressive ancestry, a last-minute birth, animals, humble beginnings, angels, assurance, surprise visitors, well-trained choir, and God. (You know, in hindsight, if there had been a coach and a glass slipper, this would have been perfect!) But, seriously, think about it. This story has gripped the world for twenty centuries. Jesus of Nazareth was born a human gift to this world, born the way we were all born. No, the Scripture doesn't speak of morning sickness and labor pains. In fact, in our haste to welcome the Christ child into our lives each Christmas Eve, we forget the humanness of the birth. We forget that he first appeared in the dim lights of that grotto drenched with the waters of Creation, with the smell of God still in his breath. We forget that Mary was in tears most of the night as she tried to be strong, entering a realm she had never entered, questioning what the angel nine months before had really convinced her to do. We forget that Jesus was human.

But this night, this silent night, is the night when the Word comes forth, Incarnate. In its simplest form, the Incarnation is the mingling of God with humanity. It is God becoming human and, in turn, giving humanity a part of the Divine. It is the mystery of life that always was coming into all life yet to be. There is a word that we do not use much. "Liminality", from the Latin for threshold is used to describe in Old English, "betwixt and between", a point of being suspended between two realms, two times. Think of it as an airpline flying over the ocean. For a few hours, you are suspended between and yet part of two cultures, two worlds. It is as if you are nowhere and everywhere at the same time. This is where we are. Humanity and the Divine are this moment suspended. Neither has moved forward yet. Just for a moment, they will dance in this grotto while we look on.

God has come, sought us out. Eons of God inviting us and claiming us and drawing us in did not do it. So God came, came to show us the sacredness that had been created for us, the holy in the ordinary that we kept missing. God has traversed time and space and the barrier between us and the Divine and as God comes across the line, the line disappears. God is now with us. We just have to open our eyes. And then, the walk begins, a walk that will pass through Galilee and Jerusalem and Golgotha. And at each point, God asks us to dance again. And we will never be the same again. This notion of "Emmanuel", God With Us, means that all of history has changed. We have passed through to another time with our feet still firmly planted here. It has changed us too. God is not asking us to be Divine. We are not called to be God. God is asking us to be who God created us to be and came to walk with us to show us what it meant to be human, to be made, not God, but in the very image of the Divine.

This birth does not just stand alone as an historic high-point in world history. You cannot look at it by itself. The Incarnation, Emmanuel, God With Us, is not limited to this silent night. God comes over and over and over again--in Jesus' birth, life, ministry, death, and resurrection. And this night in Bethlehem, this night of humanity, will end only a few miles away. But it will travel far beyond. It is part of a something bigger, a cycle of time and space, human and Divine, that has not ended yet and that, as I belief, will continue into eternity until all becomes one with God. God came that we might have Life!

In this Season of Lent, God comes to show us how to be human, made in the image of the Divine. What is it that stands in your way, that makes you inhumane? What stands in the way of walking with God, Emmanuel? Because, you see, that is the way to Jerusalem...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

WALK TO JERUSALEM: The Announcement

2011-04-11T04:00:00.002-05:00

St. Catherine's Monastery, Egypt, 12 century

Scripture Reading: Luke 1: 26-38
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Most of us good Protestants seldom talk about The Anunciation at all, let alone in the middle of the season of Lent. The Anunciation literally means "announcement". The word itself probably holds no real mystery. But it is the beginning of the central tenet of our entire Christian faith--Anunciation, Incarnation, Transfiguration, Resurrection, that cycle of holy mystery that with each turn draws us closer and closer to God as God reveals the very Godself more and more to us. For us, it begins the mystery that is Jesus Christ, the mystery that will take us to Jerusalem. For us, the fog lifts and there before us is the bridge between the human and the divine.

In December, we usually speed past this reading, eager as we are to get to "In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus..." We want to get to the beginning of it all. But think back. Jesus was human and just like all humans, something happened nine months before. And whether or not you take the notion of a virgin birth literally, there was something remarkable that happened. It is in this moment that God steps through the fog into humanity, that the great I AM reveals the Godself to all of Creation, and, just like every one of us must do, waits to be birthed into the world. It is not just this young girl's womb that is suddenly filled with child, swelling with expectant life; it is all of Creation that now waits for Light to be born. The world is with child.

Can you imagine what Mary must have thought? She was young, she had plans, she had her whole life ahead of her. "How can this be?" we read. In today's vernacular, it would read, "Are you kidding me?" And so as everything she knew and everything she planned toppled around her, she said "yes" and entered the mystery of God. Now, I have to admit, I don't get so wrapped up in needing Mary to be a literal virgin. (In fact, I don't care enough about it to need to prove it or disprove it, so you can stay anywhere you are on the issue.) After all, would it really change what happened? Would it really change who God was or what God has done? Would it really change that this was the moment when the Light of God came into the world, when the Divine suddenly spilled into the womb of the world. And that the one who held the birthing of God in her hands said yes. Now, THAT, my friends, I think is important.

Think about it. What exactly does it mean to be "virgin"? It means undefiled, pure, ready and open to receive. Mary, the virgin, was open to receive God unto herself. The most scandalous part of the whole story has nothing to do with whether or not the birth was "proper" in terms of our world; the scandal is that the great I AM, the holiest of holies, the One whose name could not be said, suddenly enters humanity with all of its violence and corruption and despair and the reordering of our existence begins. All that we know and all that we plan is beginning to topple around us. The Anunciation is the anouncement of hope for all of us.

If God's incomprehensibility does not grip us in a word, if it does not draw us into [God's] superluminous darkness, if it does not call us out of the little house of our homely, close-hugged truths...we have misunderstood the words of Christianity. (Karl Rahner)

So, in this season of Lent, what does it mean for you to be open to receiving Jesus Christ into your life? Because, you see, that is the way to Jerusalem...

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Dancing to God

A Must See!

The Days That Come After

Beginning the Journey

The First Day: And Heaven and Nature Sing!

Maybe This Night Will Be The Night

And Hear the Angels Sing!

Recollection

For the Sake of the World

So What, Exactly, Were You Expecting?

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Right Side Up

ADVENT 4B: The Holiest of Words

Frenzied

ADVENT 4B: 'Bout Time We Start Dancin'!

Putting On Shoes

ADVENT 4B: The House of God

The Story of God

THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Letting Go of Darkness

ADVENT 3B: Bending Light

On the Other Side of the Manger

ADVENT 3B: Hallowed Be

Open Season

ADVENT 3B: They

A Call to Revolution

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT: A Child of the Light

ADVENT 2B: The Beginning of the Story

How Can This Be?

ADVENT 2B: As If

Announcing the Beginning

ADVENT 2B: Something Incredible is About to Happen

Following Mystery

FIRST SUNDAY IN ADVENT: Awakening

And They Took Joseph to Egypt

One Who Is Mighty and Brave

Taking Care of Busyness (but not all!)

Just An Ordinary Day

EASTER 2A: In the Shadow of a Doubt

EASTER 2A: Epilogue

EASTER 2A: But...

Next

Maybe It IS About Us

Vigil

Mary's Song

The Cenacle

Et Tu, Judas

Unless A Grain of Wheat Dies

A Lingering Fragrance

Intersection

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Metamorphosis

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Orthodoxy

WALK TO JERUSALEM: Called to this Work

WALK TO JERUSALEM: From the Water

WALK TO JERUSALEM: The Birth of God

WALK TO JERUSALEM: The Announcement