cairns me home

being still in God's big world

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Blessed be the mothers

May 7, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Have you ever woken up in the morning and lay in bed a moment longer just to marvel at how blessed you are? I find this an especially easy habit in the springtime. The birds have returned with their song and the sun finds its way to our windows earlier. During this Mother’s Day week, I find myself remembering my mother and being so very grateful that I was blessed to have her for the time I did. I think about all of the mothers in my life from my sister, aunts, and grandmother, to my girlfriends and mentors. I am blessed to have so many strong, female role models to look to and marvel at.
All of the focus on Mother’s Day also has me thinking about our images we employ to explore our relationship with the Triune God. Each week at church we profess our faith in God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. For some individuals the masculinization of these Persons of the Trinity makes it difficult for them to connect to God for a variety of reasons. Likewise, the absence of pronouns when attempting to find a gender-neutral way of talking about God can make God seem impersonal and distant. What if this Mother’s Day could serve as an invitation to consider how our relationship with God would be changed if we thought of God as both our Father and our Mother.
There is biblical precedent for such imagery. In the psalms we find instances of God as a midwife attending a birth. The prophet Isaiah paints the picture of God as a woman in childbirth whose breath during labor pangs is the power of God “lead[ing] the blind” and “turn[ing] darkness into light.” (Isaiah 42:14-17) The Gospel of Luke shows us God as a mother hen desiring to gather her chicks under her wings. (Luke 12:34) In addition to these rich images, we can consider that the noun ruach –the Hebrew word for breath, wind, or spirit that Christians have come to name as the third Person of the Trinity– is a feminine word. Thus, even when these concrete masculine images of Father and Son are being spoken we can hold fast to the femininity of God inherent in the Holy Spirit.
This coming Sunday, when many of us go to Dorchester to march in solidarity with the mothers who have lost their children to violence – when you call your own mother – when you are awoken to breakfast in bed by your children – or when you worship here in Epiphany’s beautiful nave, I hope you will consider the question: How can I invite God to be a mother to me? 

Praying your kids through the chaos

April 19, 2013 / / 0 Comments

Today I got an email from a parishioner asking how she could pray with her kids through the chaos in Boston. She wrote:

Dear Audrey, Do you have any advice for parents on how to pray with our children about what has happened and what is happening in the Boston area today? I find myself avoiding prayer with my kids these past few days, but  know that sends the wrong message. I don’t want to worry them, and yet I know that they know what is going on (we told them the basic gist). What is appropriate to say to a 10-year-old is not appropriate for a 3 year old. Any ideas?

For those of you outside the Boston area: today has been crazy… this week has been crazy. To top it off – this is public school vacation week. Kids are home and people in many towns are being asked to stay in the house. This leaves many parents and children cooped up, indoors, on an otherwise beautiful spring day. How do you explain to your kids why they have to stay in on a beautiful day? How do you explain why they can’t even turn on the television when all else fails? There are several articles talking about how we should help kids cope, including: Tips for Parents at Home in Lockdown with Kids from WBUR. But how do we pray with our kids through such a horrific and unknown situation?

Here is what I sent to her with some embellishment. I hope it is helpful to you:

1. Be honest but reassuring. They need to know they are safe.


2. Remind them that God IS love. God cries with us and holds us. God is with us all.

3. Invite the kids to tell you what they think you should pray for, and if they are able – let them pray aloud (or silently) themselves. You might be surprised at how in-tune they are with what they want to tell God.


4. Use short, Concrete sentences. 


5. Acknowledge the feelings your child has expressed: verbally and non-verbally.


6. Remember that your prayer is to God on behalf of your children. Use words they would use and feelings they are having. Too much expression of adult feelings and thoughts may overwhelm your children.

7. Prayer comes in many forms: do body prayer with music in the background to get off the couch, invite kids to color pictures and write poems to express their feelings, sing songs from church, and generally be creative. God gave us many different faculties – engage them.

8. You could pray together, but I would separate them for a conversation/questions. If you have a 3 and 10 year old to talk to… do it separately. A 3 year old is too young to conceptualize the questions a 10 year old would ask. A 3 year old will respond directly to the way you and a sibling responds. Likewise, your 10 year old will respond to your emotions. Children take emotional cues from their parents.

9. You do not need to completely mask how you are feeling, but remember #1.

10. If they ask why God would “let” this happen talk to them about choices. God loves us enough to let us make choices. Sometimes we make good choices and sometimes we make bad choices. Sadly, these two boys made a very bad choice. They were hurting and angry and they took out their bad feelings on other people. God cries for that bad choice.


Examples: When a colleague from Newtown asked a list serve I subscribe to for help writing prayers after the shooting there this is what I wrote for her:

Ages 2-5:

Dear God, We are very sad because our friends and families are sad. But we know that you love us. Most of all we know that your Son, Jesus, loves us. We are excited for Jesus’ birthday that is coming on Christmas. God, help all of the people in our town, in our church, and in our families to know that you love us and are with us always. Amen.

Ages 5-8:

Dear God, Sometimes scary things happen and we do not understand. We are sad and scared and confused right now and we need your help. God, we have learned that you are with us all of the time. Help us to know you are with us right now. We pray for our friends and teachers who we will not see anymore. We know they are safe in your arms but we are sad because we miss them a lot. Help us to feel your arms hugging us very tight as we start to heal. Today is Gaudete Sunday. That means it is a day to rejoice. We do not feel like rejoicing. Help us to remember all of the good things in our lives and to thank you for them today and always. Amen. 

MOST IMPORTANT: Don’t force it. If your child/children don’t want to talk about it then leave it until later. Wait until they bring it up. If you have a normal prayer time with your family offer your prayers then rather than interrupting play or other healthy activities to bring up this situation. If you are in a lull than it might be the time the Spirit is inviting you into prayer – if the kids are engaged and happy this might not be the right time. Play is both the work and the prayer of a child. Remember: “Pray without ceasing, if necessary use words.” – St. Francis of Assisi
Some bible verses for reference (I could list a lot more… but you get the picture.)
Psalm 46:10 – Be still and know that I am God. (All of Psalm 46 really)
John 10:11 – I am the good shepherd… (this Sunday’s Gospel lesson)
Deuteronomy 33:27 – God is your refuge…
Psalm 32:7-8 – You are my hiding place and keep me safe…
Psalm 139 – God is with us always and in all places…
Isaiah 40:28-30 – Haven’t you heard, God is awesome and won’t leave us… (okay, I’m paraphrasing.)
Matthew 6:31-34 – Do not worry…

Finally: I am praying for all of you who are struggling to make sense of this for you and your children, too. It is an incredible task to be charged with leading a child through the dark places in life – I hope that through prayer and love you will see the light inherent.

believe

April 7, 2013 / / 0 Comments


Sermon for Easter 2
John 20:19-31

Two years ago I had the opportunity to travel to Myanmar, the country formerly known as Burma, and to meet with groups of Burmese Anglicans while we were there. I traveled with classmates from the seminary and we taught bible studies, met with seminarians, and learned from these silenced people what their lives were like living under military rule as a religious minority.

During our month of travel we met a man named Philip. Philip spoke perfect English and had a knack for writing poetry and cracking jokes. Our group leader encouraged me to talk more with Philip, because – she said – “we had a lot in common.” Wondering what I had in common with this 60-something year old man from Myanmar I sat down and entered a conversation with curiosity. Philip told me that when he was very young the government wanted to institutionalize him, but his mother would not let them.
She knew he was smart, even if they hadn’t found a way to access his intelligence yet. His mother experimented with different teaching strategies until she found one that worked. Eventually she was able to teach Philip to read and to write. When he was about 13 years old a missionary from the United States asked to take Philip to the US for schooling so he could reach his full potential. Reluctantly, his mother agreed, not knowing if she would ever see her son again. It was then that Philip boarded an airplane and traveled to Massachusetts for education.
Philip’s mother was displaying blind faith — the kind blind faith that Jesus rebukes Thomas for not displaying. At least – that is what it sounded like when I first heard the story. This woman handed her child over to a near stranger to take him to a foreign land with the hope for a better life. How many of us could do the same thing? But, then again, how many of us are living under oppressive rule with no hope to get out? The more I have considered Philip’s story the more I realize that while some of Philip’s mother’s trust was blind – much of it was informed by the reality she was experiencing. Some of it was an incredible – unthinkable, really – extension of faith in another person… but that extension of faith was calculated in some ways.
Then again, who among us hasn’t been Thomas at one point or another? Sometimes we need to have tactile evidence of that which we are asked to understand or believe in order to fully wrap our minds around it. In this post-modern world we require almost scientific levels of evidence for so many things before we are willing to dive in. What do the studies say is the best teaching strategy so that I will know based on little Timmy’s preschool attendance whether he will get into Harvard? Is this treatment for my medical condition the best one? Our faith in God cannot be measured by the same human standards, but we still try.
The question I’ve most often been asked or challenged on when teaching a confirmation class is when it comes to the creed. When asking confirmands where they have the most difficulty in their discernment it most often comes down to the question of the Nicene Creed.
If I asked you all, right now, to close your eyes and then raise your hand if you believe with absolutely no reservation nor any doubt at all that the entire content of the Nicene Creed to be completely true and accurate – how many of us could do that? How many of us “faithful Christians” sitting here this beautiful first Sunday after Easter (congratulations, by the way, for being here on the first Sunday after Easter – that takes hootzpah) can say that we have no doubts at all with regards to our faith in Christ? A handful, at most, I’d bet you. Having faith doesn’t negate the presence of doubt.
Anne Lamott wrote in her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith: “Doubt is not the opposite of faith, certainty is.” The moment we claim to be absolutely certain, without exploration or question, of our faith we are denying the real questions that live in our hearts. When Jesus says, “Blessed are you who have not seen yet still believe” he is encouraging Thomas, and all of us, to trust in all of the evidence that is already around us. We are constantly surrounded by empirical evidence for our faith in the created world in which we live, in the encounters with humans created in God’s image who hold a mirror up in our own lives sharing the light within their hearts, with the feelings and emotions and tugging of the Holy Spirit that we sense each day. But those things do not prove to be enough for Thomas.
Philip arrived in Boston and was enrolled in the Perkins School for the Blind. Philip completed the equivalent of his high school studies in 2 years and so his missionary benefactor helped him apply to Boston University, where he completed his BS in education to become a teacher – again in only 2 years. Since he still had a year left on his student visa, Philip then got a job at a piano tuning shop in Somerville and he learned the trade of piano tuning. After five years in Massachusetts Philip returned to Myanmar, despite being offered asylum in the US, to share the knowledge he had obtained in his time away. I was enthralled by Philip’s story. I asked him, what the hardest part of growing up blind was for him and he said, “I can’t think of a hardest part of being blind. A hardest part of life, yes; but of being blind… it is all I know. Sighted people always assume the darkness must trouble me but I don’t think I have experienced darkness. I know what colors and light must look like because my friends have taken such care to explain those things to me; but darkness has been described as the ‘absence of colors and light’ and I cannot fathom what that would be like because, by the grace of God, my whole life has been filled with color and light.”
When Jesus says, “blessed are you who have not seen yet still believe” he isn’t calling us into blind faith. Jesus is calling us into the faith of our ancestors. He is calling us into faith in the God who created all things, who sent manna into the wilderness, who led us out of exile, who came to earth to walk amongst us and then died on a cross and rose again for love of us. Jesus isn’t calling us to blind faith because blind faith doesn’t exist – just as darkness doesn’t exist to a blind man. Our God is a God who has been palpably present since the beginning of time; Jesus is calling us to trust all of our senses as we seek to encounter the divine dwelling among us.

Our new normal

March 31, 2013 / / 0 Comments

That we might bind to our hearts the words of the prophet Ezekiel: “You shall be my people, and I shall be your God.” we pray to you, Lord God. – Amen
When I am talking with people who have experienced the death of a close friend or relative, I know that I must tread lightly. We all experience death differently, and our experiences with our loved ones are as varied as we are, so my experience losing a family member can never be the same as your experience – we are different people. For this reason, I draw from my own experience and try to answer folks who are asking those impossible questions like, “How can things ever get back to normal?” by telling them that they will, in time, come to live in a new normal.
Waking up the morning after the death of a loved one can be jarring. How is it that the sun is shining? How are all of these people going about their day-to-day activities as though nothing has happened? Don’t they know what a terrible day this is? But then, once we’ve had time to grieve and to breathe, we have a wake. At the wake friends and family come together in their fragile state to hold one another, to tell family stories, and to honor the deceased and the lives they lived. Tonight, the beginning of the service we have just experienced has been our wake for Jesus. We have dusted off our family photo albums and reminisced about God’s love for us from the beginning of time.
We have remembered and rejoiced as God created the world from chaos, made a new covenant with us after the flood, delivered us from the hands of our oppressors, washed us clean, and breathed new life into us again and again. Tonight, we marvel in our shared life with God. Like the people of Israel to whom the prophet Ezekiel writes, we are being gathered up after forty days wandering in the wilderness and are being invited to turn our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. In Ezekiel’s prophesy about a new heart and spirit for the people Israel, God becomes the divine surgeon performing a heart transplant in order for the people of Israel to follow the Torah and turn away from false idols.
In a lot of ways, that is what we are invited into during the season of Lent. We take on a spiritual discipline to turn away from the earthy distractions, or idols, which so often distance us from God. We struggle and stumble, and often we fall, but hopefully, we pray for God’s help and we get back up again. We do this for a season to prepare our hearts for the new normal of Christ’s resurrection and all that means for humanity. We have been living in this new normal for so long that we often pass through daily life without truly internalizing the wonder of God’s love for us in the sacrifice of Jesus for our sins.
How would our lives be different if we walked around each moment remembering, as if for the first time, that we are so loved that God’s own Son came to walk among us? How would our outlook be changed if we really felt as though we were so loved that God created us in God’s own image, just as we are… warts and all? How would our relationships be strengthened if we entered into every interaction recognizing the Christ that is in the heart of the person whom we are meeting? We could change the world.
The new normal that we re-awaken to in just a few moments, is the normal that we are ALWAYS loved, ALWAYS forgiven, and ALWAYS free.
We re-awaken, after these 40 days of temptation, to the reality that all of our loved ones who have gone before us are being held in the eternity of God and will be waiting for us at the last because of the sacrifice Christ made on our behalf. By the Grace and Mercy of Jesus, we are a people who can boldly go forward shouting our Hallelujahs and joining Miriam in her dance because we are a people who were created in God’s own image, were gifted a new heart and a new spirit when we went astray, and who have been redeemed by the blood of our Savior. So, let’s get ready to roll the stone away from the tomb and in doing so, thank God for this new normal.

Why I am a freethinker

March 21, 2013 / / 0 Comments

I have been contemplating recently the idea that many atheists call themselves “free thinkers” and the implied statement that makes against those who believe in God. For me, nothing seems less free than the idea that you can believe anything you want, as long as God is not one of the things you chose to believe. To be clear, I understand that the origin of the “free-thinker” moniker comes from 17th century philosophy and truly means that the subscribers form all of their belief structure around the tenants of reason and logic. I understand what they are trying to say; but I must say that reason and logic are very much involved in my faith in Jesus Christ. I do not check my brain at the door nor do I ask anyone else to do so. I do not pass judgement on those who believe differently than I do; but I do ask that the favor of acceptance be reciprocated. I am free to think that there is a god just as I am free to think there is not. I am free to love as I have been loved just as I am free to turn a cold shoulder. I am free to live into my full potential just as I am free to squander the gifts I have been given. I am free to do all of these things and more because of the Grace and Love afforded me by God who is Mother and Father to us all. I am a free thinker because of the Free Will God gave to humanity. And, in my estimation, the freedom to truly use all of my faculties to discover truth, both objective and subjective truth, is the only way one can truly be a freethinker.

ר֫וּחַ

March 15, 2013 / / 0 Comments

My lenten discipline has been a challenge at best. I promised myself that I will leave my apartment, once a week, for a non-work-related experience where I could potentially make friends. I will do this on my own so I am forced to talk to new people. I have failed at this. Each week comes and goes and I find a reason why staying home is preferable. (I am a homebody… I can’t help it.)

So, a few weeks ago I bought a ticket to what I thought was an Irish fiddling concert at my favorite local Irish pub. Good frugal New Englander than I am, I knew if I spent $27 I wasn’t about to bail on it!!! So I spent the money on a single, will-call ticket and let it be. Little did I know: this was to be the longest week of my priesthood thus far. I left work tired — bone tired. The kind of tired one is when she would rather hibernate for a season than go to a pub and pretend to be extroverted. But I still went…

I arrived to discover that this Irish pub reserved my ticket under a misspelled, Brit-ruined, no O nor apostrophe version of my name… strike one. Then I learned the show was not a fiddle concert it was a play about fiddlers… strike two! Finally, the show started and I saw that only one man, in the band, played the fiddle! The actors were badly pantomiming to his playing. I tried to like the play, but I just couldn’t. It wasn’t at all what I’d hoped for. Feeling sad and dejected I paid my tab and walked into the bitter cold night during intermission. As I walked towards my car, trying to convince myself that just going out was a success, I ran into a lost woman about my age. She asked for directions to a particular bus only for me to tell her that she was walking in the wrong direction. I felt so bad: it is freezing cold with a bitter wind tonight, and this poor girl who I assumed was from away, was set to walk home.

In that moment I took a chance we are told not to take in this day and age: I asked, “Would you like a ride?” We both laughed. I explained that I was just heading home to walk my dog and I really didn’t mind. She laughed and contemplated this abnormal offer and finally said, “You don’t seem crazy.”I assured her I wasn’t crazy and off we went to my car. I told her that I am a priest to which she replied that she is Jewish. We had a good, comical conversation spurred on by the fact that neither of us have been in such a situation before. I drove her to her friend’s house and learned that she is, in fact, visiting town. We laughed and smiled. She offered a hug when I dropped her off. I drove home with a huge smile across my face. Our interaction was healing and Spirit filled.

When I left the pub I felt like a failure. I felt like I shouldn’t bother trying to meet new folks because it always seems to be a comedy of errors (did I mention the creepy man who kept trying to get my number until he asked what I do for a living?) But on the sidewalk, a chance interaction, redeemed the night. Ruach is present all around us… we must simply be open to Her fanciful dance.

tripping into Lent

February 18, 2013 / / 0 Comments
I’ve never been especially graceful when it comes to Lent. My friend Melanie posted something about her challenges with it and I felt joined for the first time in my Lenten wrestling match. I love Lent – it is my favorite liturgical season – but that doesn’t make me “good at it.”I often think about what I’d like to do for Lent in advance only to discover that I was asking myself what I want to do rather than asking myself what will actually benefit my prayer life. Other times, I think something will benefit my prayer life only to discover that it distracts from my prayer. On really off years, I suffer a complete mental paralysis that makes it impossible to enter fully into Lent. 

What is truly remarkable about this struggle to enter a Holy Lent in a graceful way is that the lack of grace improves my prayer life ten-fold which, in a backwards way, achieves the desired purpose. Each Lent I find myself repenting of my chaotic interior which distracts me from God so much of the time. In that repentance I am confessing and relying upon God for a major stumbling block in my life. 

It is my lack of personal grace that helps me reflect upon and marvel at the divine Grace given to us all. 

So, I suppose that means my Lenten discipline is coming to terms with the fact that I am an organizational hot mess a lot of the time. I have good intentions and I try harder than I should have to and still come up short. In essence, I am human. Coming to grips with our humanity is the soul of Lent. It is Jesus’ humanity that was tried by the devil in the wilderness. I’ve been asked by a few people just this week why Jesus didn’t just do what the devil was asking and then go all “God of the universe” on the devil to win the temptations. When we ask that it is because we are forgetting Jesus’ human nature. As Phillippians 2:5-8 tells us: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form,  he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.” 

I want to pay closer attention this Lent. I find the Ignatian Examen helps me with this practice, but there are many ways we can focus on how our lives intersect with the divine. Whatever you do this Lent know that if you are stumbling in the dance, you are not alone.

steep in the wonder of God

February 17, 2013 / / 1 Comment

Sermon for Ash Wednesday 2013 preached at the Parish of the Epiphany. The audio link can be found here. (I like the audio better on this one. Added a lot as I was going.) Scripture references are: Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 and Psalm 103.
On February 6th and 7th 1978 a monster blizzard rocked the northeastern United States dropping over 30 inches of snow and paralyzing the region for days. When the morning of the forecasted storm dawned with no snow people thought the meteorologists had once again gotten the forecast wrong and they went about their day. People went to work and school, thousands of people filled the Boston Garden for a Bruins game and Monday, February 6th seemed to be just like any other day. But people soon learned that it was not like any other day. Hundreds of cars were abandoned in roadways because the snow came so quickly. Plow trucks were overwhelmed and likewise had to be abandoned. Hundreds of hockey fans camped out in the Garden for days because they couldn’t get home. Everyone has a story about where they were when the blizzard hit because it was a once in a lifetime storm. Life came to a screeching halt because there was no other choice: All of New England was frozen in time.
Life happens at a sprint much of the time. We have places to go, people to see, and not enough time for any of it. Even when we’re relaxing we’re often doing so with one eye on the clock to make sure we get back to work on whatever it is that’s so important at the precise moment we need to. Lent is our invitation to intentionally throw 2 feet of snow on the ground and dig in our heels to walk a little more slowly for forty days. Lent is my favorite season of the church year.
I love Lent for its quiet simplicity: For the permission it gives us to slow down and take some time for introspection. I love the counter-cultural way that Lent seeps into our lives and forces a push and pull between what society says should be important and what God wants from us. Lent is an opportunity to live in the liminal space between the bustle of our earthly lives and the unknown awe of our eternal lives to come. Lent is one of the thin places.
Each year on Ash Wednesday I get a sense of solemn giddiness: for the next forty days we have permission to live in stillness with God: To live in the in-between. This is not to say that Lent is an easy time: as a penitential season, Lent calls us to examine our sins and all of the things that separate us from God and to repent of them. Lent marks the forty days of Jesus’ trials in the wilderness. Lent is a 40-day march to the cross in Jerusalem. As our collect of the day reminds us, Ash Wednesday invites us into the process of creating a new heart in Christ. It sounds like a painful and personal process, and it is.
It seems so odd in light of the gospel that we still go ahead and mark out foreheads on this day. Jesus plainly tells us that we must not be like the hypocrites who mourn and disfigure their faces in public, we should keep up appearances. Why then do we insist each year on marking our foreheads which a smudge of ash before resuming our normal daily activities?  Therein lies the problem: the part about resuming our daily activities. Ash Wednesday is our invitation to something different -to do something more. Ash Wednesday is an invitation out of our daily lives and into a time of self-examination and inventory. This is where the tradition of “giving something up” or taking on a spiritual discipline comes in. It’s not an invitation to spiritualize our weight loss goals – nor is it the six-week reminder to start back in on our New Year’s resolutions that we’ve already forgotten. It is our opportunity to dig deep and ask ourselves what is missing from my life that will help me every day, every moment, to be closer to God? Or, asked differently, what is it that is blocking my march to Jerusalem with Christ?
This is where we look to our Psalm for this today. Lent isn’t about self-flagellation. It isn’t about one-upping the discipline we did last year. It isn’t about whose discipline is the most taxing. Lent is about recognizing and returning blessing. And the only way we can do that is to acknowledge our true nature, repent of the things that have distracted us, and give praise to the God who loves us through the whole process: from cradle to grave – From dust to dust.
In our day-to-day lives, how many of us truly take time out to sing our blessings to God? In our day-to-day routine, how many times do we stop beating ourselves up for the things we perceive we’ve fallen short on long enough to feel the mercy and loving-kindness that God is constantly sending out to us? How many times do we refuse to relinquish our perceived control and to give our dilemmas up to God before we are at the end of our ropes? That is why we go into the wilderness for 40 days. We go into the wilderness with Christ not to prove our piety or to “out Christian” the next person – we go into the wilderness because it is exhausting to keep pretending that we have everything completely under control.
So, if this is the case – that we aren’t participating in these Lenten practices for other people – then why do we mark our foreheads with ash when it seems so obvious that Jesus has warned us against these outward signs of our piety?
We do it as a reminder to ourselves. When our foreheads are marked we are told “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” —We are dust— What a sobering and freeing thought. All of this racing around trying to stay on top of all of our obligations seems pretty irrelevant when we consider that we are dust. Not that we weredust…. we ARE dust … we were, we are, and we ever shall be dust. 
When we stop and take a moment to really remember that we are dust, all of the other distractions seem to go away. That vital meeting that we need to prepare for, the report that was due last week, whatever it is… is it really that important? 
A few years ago at my childhood church they were putting the finishing touches on the column barium and memorial garden that had been years in the making. The last piece was an 8-foot high Celtic cross carved from limestone that was to be mounted on a pillar in the center of the space. When the planning committee contacted the artisan who was to carve the cross they asked if he would be willing to intentionally make a small mistake in the knot work. Traditional Celtic knots always include a mistake as an acknowledgement that God is the only true perfection. Making a mistake in the knot is recognizing our utter dependence on God because of our imperfect nature.  The artist refused at first. After some coaxing, he agreed to carve the mistake only if the cross was mounted with the mistake facing the forest so that people examining pictures of his portfolio would not see it.  On that spring afternoon as the crane lowered the heavy cross into place the head of the planning committee changed her mind. She stopped the crane operator and had him turn the cross around so that the mistake was facing forward. She wrote a note to the artist explaining what she had done and the theological reasoning behind it. You see, we must not be ashamed of our brokenness and imperfections because it is through that brokenness we find the strength to rely upon God. 
Sometimes we move so quickly and, like those in the gospel passage, tout our piety because we want to hide our brokenness – even from ourselves. Today is a day when we stop, midair, and turn to face God with our mistakes and our brokenness as a mark on our foreheads to remind us that God is the only perfection and through our brokenness we will find the strength to rely on God.
The funny thing is, I studied that cross on numerous occasions and could never find the mistake. A fellow parishioner had to point it out. Just one small spot in the corner where the pattern should have gone over, under, over and instead went over, over, under. Tiny.
This past weekend we had a storm that the news stations were comparing to the fated Blizzard of ’78. They compared the wind speed, expected snowfall, temperature, and many other factors. But somehow, two days after the storm most of us had returned to work. Heck, 180 of you were in church on Sunday morning. We barely missed a beat because technology coupled with city infrastructure has the capacity to cope with these types of storms in a way we simply couldn’t 35 years ago. But, don’t you think it could have been a good thing to have an excuse for another day or two to slow down? I saw several people posting online that they were grateful for the excuse to sit home in front of the fire reading books, talking with family members, and gratefully blaming the governor’s travel ban for their inability to attend to their duties. But with lightening quick efficiency we are back running nearly at full steam. Today we have an invitation that isn’t physically limiting like a blizzard, but it can be even more powerful a force if we let it. Today, God is inviting us to sit down for a while. Will you accept the invitation? 

choices

February 9, 2013 / / 0 Comments

One of my favorite bible studies that I reengage in quite frequently asks the question: “Did Mary have a choice?” The angel Gabriel comes and tells Mary not to be afraid that he brings tiding of joy. Gabriel tells Mary that she is favoured by God and will bear a Son who will be God’s own child. Some feminist scholars criticize the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) for making Mary out to be too passive about what has been done to her. Some claim that Mary never had a choice in the matter so the Magnificat becomes another instance of female submission to a patriarchal influence. I’ve struggled with this question of Free Will versus submission especially over the past 6 years or so as I’ve formally discerned and have been subsequently ordained to the priesthood. (I am a priest… that’s just crazy.)
I wrestled with God a lot as I decided whether or not I wanted to follow this call I heard so clearly. Priesthood wasn’t the life I’d planned for myself so it took some convincing. I think this is why Mary’s nearly instantaneous conversion is so hard for me sometimes. She was a young teen planning to wed the village carpenter. If I think priesthood rocked my plans, what would Immaculate Conception do to them? As I wrestled more with my own call I’ve found comfort and companionship from other women whose plans haven’t always gone as they hoped but found the strength to follow and see for themselves the amazing journey God had waiting for them just on the other side of ordinary.
Miriam put Moses in the river and later led the Israelites in their dance of freedom. Esther married the king and played double agent to rescue her father and deliver her people. Elizabeth remained faithful through all of life’s struggles until the child in her womb elicited a mirthful laugh. But of all the women who’ve walked with me toward this priesthood it is Ruth who has held my heart most closely.
Naomi was a Jewish woman who, with her husband and two sons, moved to Moab during the famine. Naomi’s sons married Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth. After a time all three of the men died leaving their wives as widows. Being a widow in this time in history was a socially difficult position. Naomi told Orpah and Ruth that she was going to return to Bethlehem and that the two women were free to return to their own people. Orpah returned to her family in Moab; but Ruth refused to go. Ruth made a very difficult and isolating choice saying, “Do not press me to leave you
or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God.” (Ruth 1:16) Ruth’s speech to Naomi is where our Christian wedding vows get the phrase “until we are parted by death.” (Ruth 1:17) Ruth leaves behind everything she knows to follow Naomi and chooses to be united with God when an easier road was clearly offered to her.
When I was in seminary and having a difficult time a family member pressed me, “You don’t have to do this; you could quit and go back to being a child life specialist.” But my answer was always the same, “I can’t quit; I do have to do this.” It is a very difficult thing for folks to understand – yes, I have a choice but I really do have to do this – even when it is hard. The truth is: when you’ve clearly heard the call of God and know beyond the shadow of a doubt what you are supposed to do with your life it doesn’t matter if there are days that try you – you do what you have to do because following God is the deepest desire of your heart, even if following God leads you down a path that is completely apart from the path you thought you’d be on. 
“Here I Am” by Margaret Adams Parker 

Two nights ago I was blown away, once again, by the generosity of my parish. For the past 3 years I have been in love with a wood cut by the artist, Peggy Parker. In a random conversation with the warden of our church I mentioned it and she remembered. As a gift for my ordination they bought me that woodcut for my office. I was in shock. As I accepted the gift I did a very lousy job in my sinus congested, Sudafed haze of explaining the significance of the work. As my internal sensor worked a bit too quickly to think of what to say through the shock and haze I told them it was an image of Ruth – when the artist’s intention is actually that it is an image of Mary at the annunciation. What I meant to say was that through the many times I meditated on the image over the past three years she has become all of the different biblical women who’ve accompanied me on this journey toward my call – most recently, she’s been Ruth.
I love this depiction of the Theotokos because her face looks afraid and overwhelmed while her hands are stretched forth –relaxed and open – willing to serve. In this depiction of Mary we see the fear that seems missing in Luke’s poetic narrative. In this depiction of Mary I can see myself. As I’ve stared at her on my office wall I can see the strength and resolve of all of the woman who came before her and all of us who have come since who strive to answer God’s call for us – and it makes sense that we should all see our reflection in the face of Mother Mary because in a way, she is mother to us all. In bearing the Son of God Mary gives birth to the creator of the world and her humanity in that miraculous act immediately unites her with every women across all time. Mary is Miriam, Esther, Ruth, Elizabeth, Shifrah, Puah, Mother Teresa, Joan of Arc, Barbara Harris, and yes, maybe even you and me. Please don’t misunderstand me – or report me to the blasphemy police – I am not claiming that anyone else, myself least of all, has done anything like bearing God’s self into the world. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t one in the same: our shared femininity and the strength born out of our faith unites all of us across time and space.
So no, I didn’t have a choice; and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unbelievable

December 30, 2012 / / 0 Comments

This is my Christmas sermon. Preached Christmas morning at 10AM… 30 minutes after discovering my car had a flat tire… but that is a story for another post. This is my sermon inspired by John 1.

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Several years ago there was a television series called, “Kids say the darndest things.” The premise of the show was that the host would interview children and simply record their candid answers to the questions posed. The entire program was just a half hour of the host interviewing children about their lives and waiting for them to say funny things. If you’ve ever been around children than you know that you never had to wait very long before the children would say something outlandish causing the live studio audience to burst into laughter. This is why the expression “out of the mouths of babes” exists: Children are utterly honest. Children are a mirror we hold up to the world to see its truest reflection. But children are also among the most vulnerable in our world. Children are not inherently in a position of power; they need caring adults to ensure their safety and to listen to them. When children are in the most danger is when they are living in a situation where their voices cannot be heard.
God had sent prophets and angels into the world to speak to the people in the past. And still the people turned away. God spoke to Moses in the burning bush and sent the commandments down from Sinai, but still the people did not follow. God needed to turn the entire world around and to do this God had to do something completely unexpected. So God sent God’s self into the world as a little child to lead them all.
Unbelievable, and yet, here we sit on this Christmas morning two-thousand years after that night in the stable in Bethlehem. Unbelievable.
We need something to believe in. We are living in dark times. The Advent season this year was particularly dark. Last week a man was in so much pain in his own life that he chose to walk into a school and take the lives of the most innocent among us. Unbelievable, yet it’s true. We need a light to break into our darkness. And this morning, our light has come.
I’ve always loved being outside at night in the winter because the stars we see in the winter shine even more clearly than they do the rest of the year. I know there are scientific reasons for all of this, but for me, it’s just really pretty. I grew up in the woods, and I used to love to lie in our backyard hammock, wrapped in a comforter, to look at the stars on cold winter nights. The feeling of my face catching a bitter chill while the rest of my body was warmly nestled in my cocoon is one of my favorite sensations. The irony of this is: I am also terrified of the dark.
There were no street lights out where I grew up. It was truly pitch-black at night, which is what made it possible to see the full brilliance of the night sky. I rarely ventured out to the hammock because of my fear. When I did go out, I’d run on my tiptoes as quietly as I could. I’d often leap the last step and land in the hammock nearly capsizing into the snow. I didn’t feel safe until I was fully wrapped up from head to toe. I guess that is why my image of God is one of a fluffy down comforter. From the safety of my comforter I could experience the wonder of the night sky. The safety of my comforter allowed me to experience the light in the darkness.
I think that is what God realized when God sent us Jesus. God knew that we felt safely wrapped in God’s love but we’d become complacent. We needed help to see that there was more available to us: more love, more peace, more mission, more forgiveness, more living to do if only we could see beyond the horizon and into the possibilities beyond our own backyard hammocks.
CS Lewis wrote: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
This morning the sun rose and with that dawning of a new day the bells of Christmas also tolled. There is a beautiful Christmas truth to CS Lewis’ message. There are days when it feels impossible to believe and on those days we have to look outside of our selves for evidence of God in the world around us. I believe that Jesus Christ is born because I look out and see Christ looking back at me in all of the faces here this Christmas morning. There is darkness in this world, that is true; but there is also a beautiful and indescribable light. A light that comes from the peace that passes all understanding gifted to us by our Savior Jesus Christ.
So go forward today and hug your family members. Look at the faces of the children beaming as they skip down the street. Smile at the other drivers on the road. Reach out to a neighbor who might not have folks to visit with them this year. Be a light in the darkness to all you encounter. Because this morning Jesus broke into our world and your act of love and kindness might be the light in the darkness for those who seek God.
Good morning! Happy Christmas!
Amen.

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