Independence Day Observed 5 July 2020

Matthew 5:43-48        Jesus said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Reflection        The second paragraph read in congress on July 4, 1776 boldly proclaims, We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness?--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men…  Then follows the extensive list of offenses by the monarch (British Crown) against the people of the colonies, which I highly commend to your reading.  This is time well spent, perhaps in lieu of a barbecue or watching fireworks.  But I digress.

Consider this. From its inception, the grand experiment of these soon to be United States was fraught, fraught because the audacious aspiration to insure access to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for all people puts us cross-wise with ourselves, individually and collectively. 

If we affirm that all people are created equal, how can we justify programs and policies that benefit some groups to the detriment of others? Think of the Indigenous people of the North American continent.  If we act to insure access to life, liberty and pursuit of happiness for all, how can we justify securing our wealth by benefiting from others’ labor?  Think slaves, purchased and imported wives, outsourcing. If we believe all people are endowed by One God, how can we fail to respect the dignity of every human being, even if their race, gender, age, ability, sexual orientation, social class , political or religious preference is different than ours? 

From the beginning as individuals and as a nation, we the people have endured a tug of war within us, a war between our high-minded ideals and our inordinate desires for security, safety, esteem, power and control. In theological terms this is the abyss between orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxy (right action). 

It is relatively easy to say, “We hold these truths to be self evident…” Never once have I heard a parishioner complain, “ I simply cannot reaffirm my Baptismal Covenant, especially the part where you ask, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?” Not one person has ever told me they have a problem with that.  The question is not, do we believe these truths. The question is, “How do we live them? “

If we are honest the answer is, with much difficulty because we are conflicted. On one hand, our deepest, truest self knows what is right and good and aligned in the will of God. This is the still, small voice of the indwelling Spirit. This is our inheritance, the Light of Christ that opens our eyes to see reality as it is and stretches our hearts to feel compassion with all people and creation and compels us to act for the common good. This is our true self.

On the other hand, our social, cultural and emotional self hears the echoes of years of teaching, “You better look out for number one. Life is a zero sum game. The more the other guy has, less is available to you.” This conflict percolates within us even as it lays siege to the world around us. Orthodoxy - orthopraxy?  Right belief -right action? As individuals and as a nation, we have been wrestling with this for two hundred and forty four years.  

Phyllis Tickle, who died in 2015, was an American writer, poet and authority on religion who sparked the imagination of the emerging church in the United States. Tickle penned this Prayer for Morning. 

I am so weary, Father, of using myself as the measure of everything and everybody. Just for this one day, I beg you, help me find release from the old pattern of seeing the different-from-me as either less-than or more-than me. Grant instead that, for just this one day at least, I may see everything and everybody I meet in terms of how I want you to see me at this day’s end. *

Returning to the parishioner who when asked,  “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?” who boldly pronounced, “I will,” Phyllis Tickle’s prayer reminds us that there is something important missing in our high-minded parishioners response. The appointed response is, “I will, with God’s help” because we are conflicted and fail to embody our high-minded ideals.  Without God’s help we cannot live into God’s dream for humanity. 

Yes we can set our minds on big, beautiful, audacious dreams such as “all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” And we must remember, simultaneously we are subject to social, cultural, political and even religious voices demanding we sell or shun or sacrifice our dream, God’s dream, in order to belong (orthodoxy) and claim a sliver of security, safety, esteem, power or control. 

“Do you hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness?”  If you answered “yes,” I implore you; pray. Pray every day that God will help you put flesh on the bones of your high-minded beliefs. 

• Tickle, Phyllis in  Boyd, Malcom & Talton, Chester eds (2003) Race and Prayer: Collected Voices Many Dreams, 11. 
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The Psalm and Gospel text for Sunday 29 June 2020

Psalm 89.1-4, 15-18

1 Your love, O Lord, for ever will I sing; *

from age to age my mouth will proclaim your faithfulness.

2 For I am persuaded that your love is established for ever; *

you have set your faithfulness firmly in the heavens.

3 "I have made a covenant with my chosen one; *

I have sworn an oath to David my servant:

4 'I will establish your line for ever, *

and preserve your throne for all generations.'"

15 Happy are the people who know the festal shout! *

they walk, O Lord, in the light of your presence.

16 They rejoice daily in your Name; *

they are jubilant in your righteousness.

17 For you are the glory of their strength, *

and by your favor our might is exalted.

18 Truly, the Lord is our ruler; *

the Holy One of Israel is our King.

Matthew 10:40-42

Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple-- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Reflection          Today I want to tell the story of how the God of Surprises showed up for me wearing the brown skin and baggy jeans of three Native American teenagers some twenty years ago. During one of my several career incarnations I consulted with a program that provided an alternative to incarceration for adjudicated Native American sex offenders between the ages of thirteen and twenty-two. From time to time I would invite several of the group home residents to my office to check in on them and learn how their program was going.

When things were going well or if one of the residents was having a difficult time I would invite them to walk the arroyo with me (in Arizona these dry river beds are called washes) from my office to a downtown convenience store and treat them to a soft drink and a snack.  On the day in question we were anticipating the upcoming graduation of one of the three residents with whom I was meeting, so the spirit was light and playful. All the way to the convenience store we joked, teased and told stories. But leaving the convenience store everything was changed.

All three residents were, what they call, “talking shit,” looking down at the ground, and sneering at me. I stopped walking. “What is going on with you guys?” “Nothing.” “Don’t tell me nothing. It is as if some demon got into your skin. What is going on?” “That dude and the manager were mad doggin’ us. Followed us all over the store. Watched everything we did. They thought we were going to steal stuff, as if they have anything worth stealing.” 

I was stunned. I had not noticed a thing and I was not certainly not aware of being followed around the store. Something clicked inside me. “This is wrong.” Without thinking I said to the three residents, “Come on. We are going back to the store.” After a fair amount of push back with language I will not repeat, they grudgingly assented. 

Inside the store I asked the clerk to speak with his manager. When the manager asked if these “boys” (referring to my three residents) were giving me trouble, I assured him, “No, sir. My friends here are fine. But your clerk and you seem to have a problem. We were just in here purchasing soft drinks and snacks. The thing is, the whole time we were here you followed my friends around but you did not follow me. You were so busy mad doggin them I could have stolen anything I wanted. Would you please explain to my friends what you were doing?” 

After a long silence the manager muttered something about kids and trouble and having to take care. I looked the manager in the eye and assured him, “These young men are not trouble. But not to worry, none of us will darken the doorway of your store again.” Turning to the guys I said, “Let’s get out of here.”

The three residents were as shocked by what had just transpired as was I. 

The God of surprises opened my eyes to invisible injustice, that is, injustice that was invisible to me, but not to my three residents. The God of Surprises showed up and compelled me to step way outside my comfort zone. The God of surprises empowered me to act boldly on behalf three misjudged and mistreated young men, in Jesus words, “to offer a cup to…. these little ones.” And let me assure you. All that transpired was completely spontaneous and contrary to my preference to avoid confrontation. 

The question is, “Why are we surprised by God?” As I ponder this question the song of our psalmist rings through me. “Your love, O Lord, for ever will I sing; from age to age my mouth will proclaim your faithfulness. For I am persuaded that your love is established for ever; you have set your faithfulness firmly in the heavens.” I wonder if we are surprised by God because we forget God’s faithfulness? I wonder if we are surprised by God because we expect God to show up in a pressed suit,  yarmulke, thobe or alb speaking with authority from a temple, mosque or pulpit and instead God of Surprises  shows up as “one of these little ones,” the hungry, the thirsty, the misunderstood three young Native American men? 

Until the day I just described I had no idea it was my white privilege to go into a convenience store (or any other store for that matter) and not immediately be a subject of suspicion. Until that day I had no understanding of why my young Native American friends could instantly flip a switch, become sullen, affronted and spew obscenities about white folk or anyone in a position of power. Clearly this day I was surprised by God to feel anger and indignation with my three Native American friends. It not only drew me closer to them. It soundly convinced me of God’s faithfulness.

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Gospel text for Sunday 21 June 2020

Matthew 10.24-39        Jesus said to the twelve disciples, “A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!

“So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

“Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.

For I have come to set a man against his father, 

and a daughter against her mother, 

and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; 

and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.

Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Reflection    Jaundiced air envelops the scene. A barren desert scape blown dry by lethal winds bearing dusty devils brings no consolation. The majesty of mountains that usually glorify this desolation is shrouded beneath a burial cloak of black and orange smoke crowned with ashen billows. 

“Oh God, what is happening to our world? I am driving through a post apocalyptic movie set. Everywhere I look the world is on fire. Not only the Bighorn fire in front of me but also the Sawtooth and Mangum fires at my back. Not only forest fires but also viral fires leaping from unsuspecting host to host, inciting disease and dealing death. Not only Covid-19 but also protesters and provocateurs, champions of change inciting protectors of the status quo. O God, this moment moans with pain, pain so great we are all groaning.” 

Rapt in this apocalyptic apprehension while driving from Phoenix to Tucson an audible groan escaped my gut riding a river of tears. This is world pain, weltschmerz, a great German word that speaks to the collective pain experienced during times of extended conflict and transition. Today the pain I feel is greater than my own. 

I groan with the many blameless police as well as their several brutal colleagues, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the peaceful protesters calling for an end to ethnic violence as well as their     agitated provocateurs, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with the conscientious folk sacrificing their pleasures to cut short Covid-19 as well as with those who due to need or desire exercise their right to act as they choose, for the pain that inflames all of them.

I groan with all creatures, the earth and the air, for the pain that inflames all of them.

James Baldwin, an African American novelist, was one of the twentieth century’s greatest writers especially known for his essays on the black experience in the United States. Baldwin writes, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

Driving from Phoenix to Tucson I stumbled into everything I have been afraid to face; the depth and breadth of pain that is inflaming every person, group, institution, government and country today. I fear for our way of life. I fear that we cannot breath and be who we are. I am afraid to open my mind and my heart to consciously experience the depths of this personal and collective pain; weltschmerz. 

How are we to be with this pain? When the world as we have known it is replaced by an apocalyptic movie set do we welcome the pain, anger, resentment and confusion as  invitations to venture deep inside ourselves and experience Divine wisdom hidden within? Probably not our first go to. If we are honest we are more likely to eat, drink, do drugs, binge watch Netflix or even meditate seeking something pleasurable to avoid the strong emotions.  When we have no idea what is going on or how things are going to turn out, do we welcome this as an opportunity for something new and better to emerge? or do look for someone or something to blame, or make ourselves the guilty ones?

When we shut ourselves off from experiencing reality as it is, we disconnect our selves from wisdom, which is the Holy Spirit present with us. When we are disconnected Jesus’ words make no sense. “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Jesus brings a sword because we need it to poke and to prod us, to unmask the ways we run from reality. 

Jesus brings a sword to uncover our preference to look for someone to blame (including ourselves), rather than welcome the discomfort of our anxiety, fear, resentment and uncertainty.

Jesus brings a sword to vanquish our desire to recreate the way things were rather than wait in uncertainty for something new to be conceived. 

Jesus brings a sword to turn us around to face ourselves and the fullness of our humanity.  And I recoil.

I recoil because I feel vulnerable. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my belly that churns as I live through the desolating apocalypse of mysterious virus, insidious fires, protests and provocateurs, violence and threats of more. I feel vulnerable because there is a soft spot in my heart where I am connected to every person, plant and place. This soft spot is the fullness of my humanity, the tender site of of divine presence with me that weeps with every burnt twig and mourning mother. 

This is the place I am loath to face because the spring of living water that Jesus brings there bears not only his incomprehensible peace but also every droplet of world pain. Still James Baldwin’s words echo in my soul, “Not everything that is faced can be changed. But nothing can be changed until it is faced.” 

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Gospel text for 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, 14 June 2020

Matthew 9:35-10:8        Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their  synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”

Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his

 brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.

These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without payment; give without payment. 

Reflection        Please imagine with me an artist painting a large canvas,  exploding with towering thunderheads, torn by tumultuous winds, whipping raging waves, swallowing a sailboat. In the foreground a mass of craggy granite punctures the furious seas offering deliverance to a figure that is clinging with both hands to a cleft in the monumental rock. Can you picture that?

It is not difficult to do theological reflection with this dramatic image. As a rock or a cliff is a refuge for the innocent sailor, God is refuge for the sick, the suffering and the shipwrecked. We can almost hear the psalmist singing, ‘In you O Lord I seek refuge… rescue me speedily, be a rock of refuge for me.” (Ps 31.1,2) We can also see the rock or cliff as a place where God is made manifest, “See, there is a place by me where you shall stand on the rock… and I will put you in the cleft of the rock… and you shall see my back (says the Lord).” (Ex 33.21. 23) Yes, God is the stable rock of our salvation, providing steadfast strength and safety and a glimpse of God in hindsight. 

But our artist is not satisfied. She takes her palette knife and leaving only the fearsome clouds, scrapes the figure, the rock and the violent seas out of the painting, pauses, then ever so carefully recreates the rocky refuge, restores the swirling seas and reforms the floundering figure. This time the ship wrecked person is clinging to the cleft of the rock with only one hand. With the other hand the storm tossed person is reaching into the dark swirls to rescue one more.* 

Now when we do our theological reflection we hear Jesus’ words,  "Every one then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock.” (Matt 7.24) Turns out our artist knows, it is not enough to sing, “A mighty fortress is my God…”  It is not enough to cling to God. It is not even enough to be healed, set free or rescued from a horrific situation and recognize God in hindsight. It is not enough to aver, “God is with me.” More, much more is expected of us.

This I believe is the heart of Jesus’ message to the disciples and us in the gospel text; more is expected of us than clinging to the mighty fortress of God or remembering the ways God has passed by and touched our private lives. This is a radical departure from the ways in which good and faithful religious folks were expected to behave. In Jesus’ time God of Israel was understood to be in God’s house, the Temple. To fulfill their religious obligation, people were supposed to make pilgrimage to the holy site where they could render their proper offerings. Essentially, access to God was bound by geography and ritual. 

So when Jesus, “summons his twelve disciples,” sends them out  and "gives them authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and every sickness,” he is essentially saying, “Clinging to your religion, to your God to save your life, is not enough. You must take your faith into the world, to places that may or may not welcome you and proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near. There is no need to go to a special holy place to find it.’” 

Today lots of folks are asking, “How can we be Church if we cannot gather? What is going to happen to Church as we know it?” Others lament, “I miss social time together, or receiving communion, or singing in the choir, or, or, or.” I believe Jesus looks at us with compassion and says, “Yes, yes. I know your losses and I hear your suffering. You are harassed and may even feel helpless. So I transform you from followers into leaders and send you out to minister to the people in your neighborhood, your community, your country. Go to the folks who are sick or suffering or say they are spiritual but not religious. Show them your wounds and tell them the ways God has comforted and healed you. In so doing you will experience your authority and reveal the truth of the kingdom come near. And if someone is not interested in your story, don’t fret about it. Just move on.” 

The question we each must ask ourselves is, "How do we want our artist to represent our shipwreck painting? As followers clinging desperately with both hands to the monumental rock? Or, as leaders holding on with one hand and with the other hand reaching into the darkness to save another? 

*Somewhere I heard a variation on this story but cannot recall to whom I should give credit. 

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Gospel text for Trinity Sunday 7 June 2020

Matthew 28:16-20        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.

Reflection       A voice with an accent foreign to us responds to our call for tech support and the thought that accompanies our rising impatience is, “Oh no.”  It is evening and we cross the street to avoid walking past a couple of dark skinned men. A man of color asks a white woman to leash her dog. Instead she calls 911 and accuses him of violating her. A police officer shoots an unarmed person of color because the officer believes this person threatens his life.

When biases and beliefs are translated into action, racism happens.  In spite of our best intentions,  regardless of our desire to be broadminded and open hearted, we stumble over unconscious biases or beliefs that people who do not look, talk, pray, eat or  vote like us are more likely to be dangerous or a threat to us.  Though we do not want to, we feel anxious around them and before we know it our unconscious beliefs or biases are translated into action and racism happens.

A heart rending conversation with a parishioner this week makes the point. I will call him James. James and his wife Sophia are white. They have two biological daughters and an adopted son whom I will call William. William is biracial, clearly of black heritage. Between semesters during his junior year in college William was home and asked his parents if he could drive their new Acura downtown to meet friends. James shuddered at the thought and proceeded to warn William. “If you are stopped by the police who are likely to wonder why a black skinned kid is driving such a nice car,  keep your hands on the steering wheel. Do not move quickly. Do not act smart. Be careful.” Here is the thing, James never felt fear when his white skinned daughters drove his Acura downtown and found no need to give them similar warnings. 

Racism happens not because we are bad but because throughout history (the telling and retelling of our human story from a particular perspective) we have grouped people according to perceived differences. These groupings support practices like colonialism, slavery, segregation, genocide, racial profiling and voter suppression. Each of these expressions of racism is based on deep seated and destructive bias or beliefs that certain groups of people are fundamentally different than others, not only different but in some sense inferior or with particular behavioral tendencies. 

It is hard to admit our biases and beliefs about groups of people. This not only applies to issues of race and ethnicity. Republicans, Democrats, Greens and Rainbows harbor disparaging beliefs about one another while maintaining a sense of their own moral or intellectual superiority. Let us be honest with ourselves. We are imprisoned by our biases and beliefs and when they are translated into action, as we see across our country today, all hell breaks loose.

What are we to do if blaming is not the answer? I must confess I have spent all week asking myself and consulting mentors. This is what I hear. Stop. Stop thinking you can fix it. Start listening. Listen to peoples experiences of race, gender, age, sexual orientation, disability and class discrimination. Allow yourself to be touched by their stories. Participate in honest discussions of these difficult topics. No need to be defensive. Admit you do not know.

Today I stand in utter unknowing. I have no idea how to lead through this violent wilderness. What I cling to is Jesus’ final promise to the disciples and us, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” God is with us so let us have the courage to listen, to learn, to be touched and transformed into people who act consciously and conscientiously for the dignity and care of every single person. 

I just received an invitation from Bp Reddall for this evening. Please consider joining me tonight  attending the bishop’s online Vigil for the Dignity of Black Lives at 6:00 p.m. 

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Gospel text for Pentecost 31 May 2020

John 20:19-23          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.”

Reflection        What does it mean to reveal our wounds to someone? I believe it means being vulnerable, admitting we have been bruised, injured, possibly disabled and in Jesus’ case, killed. It means we are essentially damaged goods, not idealized specimens of humanity. This is not the picture of ourselves that we want to show the world. We would rather put on airs or armor striving to appear whole and healthy, undamaged and strong, anything but vulnerable.

So we cover our bodies and lock the doors of our hearts hoping against hope to hide our wounds.  We fear that if we reveal them, someone might poke their fingers into them and our fragile armor will crumble. And there we will stand before God and all of creation, stripped of our fig leaf, exposed and defenseless. Who wants to go there? 

But Jesus punctuates the revelation of his wounds with breathy bookends. “Peace be with you. Peace be with you.” God’s peace is with us before we are wounded. God’s peace is with us after we are wounded. There is never a time when God’s peace is not with us because with his next breath, Jesus breathes on the disciples and us saying, “Receive the Holy Spirit.

How are we to understand the Holy Spirit? There are three sphere of action for the Holy Spirit; in creation and the unfolding of history (the Spirit has always been present), in the Christ event revealed through Jesus (this singular moment), and continuing in the world at large (omnipresent and ongoing). Here is the thing. All three spheres of the divine, sweeping, all-embracing and ecumenical action of the Holy Spirit lean toward one thing;  the transformation of our consciousness and community into the peaceable kingdom of God, inside and out. 

Which brings us to Jesus’ next acclamation. “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”Here we note that forgiveness is not solely about being magnanimous toward the person we believe has offended, bruised, damaged or disabled us physically or emotionally.  Forgiveness is above all about its effect on us. For as long as we cling to the sin of others, we are locked in a room defending our wounds which means we lose access to the deep transforming peace of the Spirit of God with us. 

For as long as we lock our doors to cover up the negative emotions associated with our wounds (anger, shame, resentment, hatred, jealousy, outrage), like an infection that refuses to heal, the emotions fester and chafe inside us. But when we reveal our wounds, like a skin leison exposed to the sun’s ultraviolet rays produces vitamin D that enhances healing, when we reveal our wounds the outreaching, intercessory and unifying power of the  Spirit of God is  released from within us renewing our life and restoring our relationships which of course frees us to experience the peaceable kingdom of God, inside and out.

I believe the life changing success of 12 Step recovery programs that Bill Wilson and his physician, Bob Smith began in 1935 is largely due to the insistence that participants examine themselves and expose the exact nature of their wounds and wrongs. Exposing our wounds to light, releases the power of the Holy Spirit to conceive the peaceable kingdom of God, inside and out. At Pentecost Jesus shows us the way to be at peace with our wounds and receive the Holy Spirit. 

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Epistle for 7th Sunday of Easter 24 May 2020

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11        Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you are sharing Christ's sufferings, so that you may also be glad and shout for joy when his glory is revealed. If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you.

Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you. Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. Resist him, steadfast in your faith, for you know that your brothers and sisters in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering. And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, support, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the power forever and ever. Amen.

Reflection        Please join me mounting a ten thousand feet above the ground perspective from which to scan the course of life and it’s ordeals?

From the beginning of our faith traditions narrative some thirty four hundred years ago, there has never been a time without ordeals and suffering. In the third chapter of Genesis our first named human ancestors succumb to the temptation to aggrandize themselves by “eating from the tree of good and evil,” and the man blames the woman and the woman blames the serpent and our human propensity to shirk responsibility and look for someone to blame for our troubles is born and the consequences of our choices are; shame, hard work and consciousness of pain.  The next thing that happens is sibling rivalry. Cain is jealous of Abel, so kills his brother. Before we wander through seven chapters of the first book of the Hebrew Testament humanity is nearly extinguished by a great flood. 

Here is the thing. The Genesis stories are not historical records of events. They are our ancestors attempts to understand and make meaning from their mysterious ordeals. Why are some people favored more than others?  Why do women have pain in childbirth? Why is there suffering? Why do people die? Humanity’s questions echo from the beginning.

And so the writer of 1 Peter entreats us, “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.” There has never been a generation that did not face fiery ordeals.  But here is the thing. When the writer includes in his exhortation, “to test you,” he is not describing situations designed for us to either pass or fail. Testing means proving or refining. In the text from 1 Peter, testing is being “restored, supported, strengthened, and established.” Established in relationship to something greater than us, a ubiquitous perspective, something that we call God, something that has been emerging through billions of fiery ordeals.

4.5b years ago there was the birth of a planet we call earth. Perhaps we could think of this as the big ordeal that set the stage for the first microorganisms that predicated life 3.5 billion years ago. The earth’s surface broke into rocky platelets that moved and gave birth to the first continent named “Ur.” That was 3 billion years ago. Sex started about 1.7 billion years later with red algae which led to multicellular life but then on two occasions the entire earth froze. A subsequent explosion birthed animals with shells and massive diversification then, you guessed it, the first mass extinction about 450m years ago. Next fish that walked inhabited the single earth continent that then tore itself apart and another mass extinction preceded dinosaurs. We know what happened to them. 

Question is not, “Why are there ordeals?” The question is “How do we choose to walk through ordeals?”  The writer of 1Peter continues with good counsel. “Humble yourselves… Cast all your anxiety on (God)… Discipline yourselves, keep alert.” Because during ordeals we are vulnerable. 

Early Wednesday afternoon, sitting in my office with a laptop recently gave to the church. The thing is, it is a PC and I am a Mac user, so I decided to get it set up ahead of time for our 2 pm Centering Prayer and Lectio Divina  meeting. Much to my relief I managed to get the zoom site running then left the laptop open and continued to work on my own computer. At some point I noticed the image of a beautiful lion’s head looking at me from the PC. I actually stopped and thought about the beauty of this noble beast before closing the laptop and carrying it to the library for the meeting.

At 1:58 when I opened the laptop, the screen was bright blue. No matter which key I touched I could not get past the sea of blue nothing. Depressing the power button failed to turn it off. Time is passing, my cell phone is buzzing with texts from meeting participants wondering where I am. Huffing and muttering things that I shall not write, I grab the recalcitrant laptop and retreat to my office, hoping against hope that I can access zoom and open the meeting on my unreliable Mac. Stomach churning, heart pounding, mind racing, you might think I was being chased by a lion rather than late for a Centering Prayer meeting. And there we have it.

“Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour.” Humble yourself Debra. Stop being anxious about all the changes and how to lead the church through this Covid-19 ordeal. Put your faith in God and resist the devil’s temptation to assume you have to figure this out, make everything work. Stay alert and know “your sisters and brothers in all the world are undergoing the same kinds of suffering.”  

Whether we choose to begin our story 13.7 billion years ago with the massive fiery ordeal that blew space into smithereens, thirty four hundred years ago with our Hebrew ancestors’ attempts to make sense of their mystifying ordeals, or the most recent time the roaring lion showed up to steal our peace or shake our faith, there is no escaping life’s ordeals.

So what shall we do when the lion roars? Be disciplined and alert saying, “Welcome, welcome, welcome. I let go of my desire for things to be different than they are.”

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