Happy Mary Mag Day - Again

Happy Mary Mag Day again!  Thank you to everyone who is writing to wish us well.  

This has been a big year for us.  Last year Elizabeth and I made our life vows, so this is our first year as vowed Companions.  The first Covenant Companion Candidates began this leg of their journey last year, so today is an anniversary for them too.  Their beginning was also the start of a new chapter for Elizabeth and me, as we became “formation directors” for others and devoted significant time and thought to how these others were growing.  It’s been a joy to watch them develop, and painful to let someone go.  Now, as another person steps forward into that circle, we continue to learn together.

This past year has given me more insight into Mary’s story, and mine.  I’m seeing more and more that healing is not a one-time event.  Like the blind man who needs another application of mud, i need continual encounters with Jesus to heal old wounds and grow new parts of me.  I imagine she followed so closely partly because she knew she needed daily doses of God’s love.    

Any illusions I might have had that healing means erasing the past have shriveled this year.  I’ve had many chances to encounter my continuing limitations and fears.  They call me to encounter the past again, not to be captured by it, but to be equipped to move on.  I regret many things in my past, but I also cherish my unique history as the vehicle of God’s grace.  

In this light, Luke’s designation of Mary as one from whom seven demons had gone out shows up for me in a new way.  I’ve loved this at times, as I identified with her; at other times I’ve resented what could have been intended to delegitimate her status among the disciples.  But today I’m mindful of Paul’’s response to the Corinthians when they want to know his credentials: he tells them just how broken he has been, just how much he has lost, just how foolish he has let himself look for the sake of Christ.  He reminds them that our faith is not about how wise or strong we are, about how deserving of God’s praise or people’s admiration: God came for the messed-up, broken, sinful, lost ones.  Mary is exhibit A.  Her history shames those who still think in terms of “purity,” but it shines like a lamp for those who know they need help.  I’m one of those.

I’m not alone in this.  Mary is our matron because we relate to the brokenness and foolishness that needs, and receives, the healing touch of Christ.  Today, I invite you to look into your broken places and give thanks for the space that God might fill.  And pray with us the Companions’ Prayer:

Pour into our hearts, O God, the Holy Spirit’s gift of love; that we, clasping each the other’s hand, may share the joy of companionship, human and divine, and draw many to your community of transforming love; through Jesus Christ our Savior.  Amen.

Happy Mary Mag Day!  We will be celebrating this afternoon with an outdoor (we hope!) Eucharist and potluck supper.

For those who can't be with us, please share in rejoicing in the God who creates and renews each of us, and our world.  Pass it on!

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In Lieu of a Sermon, July 10 2016

Last Sunday I preached and presided at St. Gregory’s Church in Woodstock, NY.  I usually post my sermons, but this time I can’t.

Early in the week I had a sermon outline.  Then the shootings started.  By midweek I actually had a sermon, not great but OK, centered on Colossians 1:1-14.  I was a little disappointed with it, but it was a busy week and I was filling in.

Then Friday hit.  It wasn’t the fact that this time police were shot; it wasn’t that the earlier deaths didn't matter.  My rope just snapped.  I threw out the sermon.

I didn’t try to write another.  I had time.  I just knew I didn’t want to go in with nicely packaged words.  I usually write to gather my thoughts, and I love the process of writing, but this was not a time for that.  I needed to speak from my heart, and to listen to their hearts.

Off I went on Sunday, with a slip of paper.  I know some of what I said.  I know what I saw in their faces.  I felt deeply privileged to be there that day.

At the risk of returning to too many words, I have some things I want to say now.

Last year I read Shelly Rambo’s book, Spirit and Trauma.  She writes powerfully about the ways that trauma lingers even into “resurrection” moments, and she uses the insights of trauma theorists and healers to read Scripture.  Ever since I read it, I’ve been aware of trauma in a new way.

Last weekend I thought about the question of why the United States is so violent.  It’s not just about the availability of guns; it’s about why we think we need them.  It’s not just racism.  Racism is real, and yes, making guns available leads to increased shootings.  These are both easily documented.  But why do these cluster here?

I think part of the answer is that virtually all of our ancestors came here fleeing some sort of trauma.  For some it was religious persecution; for others it was economic hardship and famine; some were sent as prisoners; and some were enslaved and brought here by force.  Even Native Americans have this history, as invaders enslaved them and drove them from their land.  Trauma is deep in our soil. 

People who came as voluntary immigrants came to a place where things would be better, and often they were - even when they were hard.  But they did not leave the trauma behind.  Trauma gathers in our bones and our muscles, in our adrenal glands.  Our ancestors carried the pain of the world to this place, to this “beacon of light.”  All the pain that people can inflict on one another lives in our cultural DNA.  

The only way to overcome this is to get very intentional about loving and forgiving.  We will not end our trauma history, but we will come to terms with it and not be ruled by it.  We have to start over.  We have to love.  We have to forgive; not to excuse, not to ignore, but to release ourselves and one another from the cycle of hate.

How?  Well, I missed an opportunity (many, really), but others showed up.  I planned to be at a prayer vigil last night, but someone else needed me.  As it turned out, the group I needed to be with wanted to talk about race and how to be part of the healing.  So we were six people who were trying to open our hearts.  

Was it enough?  Nothing is enough, but everything matters.  

Another friend called to talk about creating a workshop using tools we teach in another context in order to initiate conversations around reconciliation - conversations our group has used for decades in Israel and Palestine, and in Northern Ireland.  

Is that enough? No, but everything matters.

With enough leadership, people can do this.  People did it in South Africa, and in Rwanda. People do it in their towns and their homes.  It’s not a one-time process - the transformation is never permanent - but it’s real.

Please, be a leader today.  Don’t wait for someone else to go first, or go big, or have a plan.  Just please, seek opportunities to love and forgive.  Cry for one another and with one another.

The future of the world depends on this, people.  No kidding.  Jesus has already intervened.  God has already given us what we need.  Now we get to choose whether to live in the reality of love or stay trapped at Calvary, fighting over whose fault it is.  Jesus is waiting for us to catch up.  Step into resurrection.