Wednesday in the First Week

Jonah 3:1-10; Psalm 51:11-18; Luke 11:29-32

Poor Jonah!  He succeeds where he doesn't want to.  He hates the city of Nineveh, the capital of Assyria; he would like nothing better than to see it destroyed.  But he suspects, rightly it turns out, that if he announces their doom then the people of Nineveh will repent and God will relent.  So when God tells him to go to Nineveh, he resists.  He doesn’t want to tell them of the judgment, because then they might repent and God might relent.  But God has other plans.

Have you ever willed someone else’s harm and destruction?  Perhaps you haven’t prayed for it, but you’ve delighted in it when it comes.  Perhaps you’ve thought, “Serves them right.”  I’ve thought that.  i’m ashamed to say it, but I have.

Sin is separation from God.  I cut myself off from God when I turn against God’s commandments: love God, and love your neighbor.  Willing their destruction is as much a sin in Jesus’ book as actually doing it.  It doesn’t matter how big the other person’s sin is; my burden is heavy when I refuse mercy and forgiveness.

Forgiveness is not justifying the wrongs done by another.  It is refusing to let those wrongs destroy my life and humanity, my relationship with God.   When I find myself gloating or hoping for another’s downfall, I can only say: “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.  Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your holy Spirit from me.  Give me the joy of your saving help again, and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.”

Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.

Tuesday in the First Week

Isaiah 55:6-11; Psalm 34:15-22; Matthew 6:7-15

“Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.”

I must say I feel like a latecomer to forgiveness.  I thought I was forgiving, but the last few years have shown me how little I knew. 

I work with the Mastery Foundation, a group that fosters reconciliation and empowerment in contexts where religion is a source of division.  Much of their work has been in Northern Ireland and Israel/Palestine.  They also work in the United States, equipping and renewing those who serve others in religious contexts or out of faith commitments.  One of our central tools is forgiveness.  In the wake of the manifest division in the US this past year, we designed a workshop devoted to forgiveness.  We talk about why it matters, but more importantly we give people a chance to do it right there, through a straightforward process.  It is an amazing experience to be in a room with people who are becoming free right in front of you!  It’s sort of like . . . the reign of God.

That’s what forgiveness offers.  It is a gift to the person who is forgiven, but even more it is a gift we give ourselves when we forgive.  I release the anger and fear that keep me chained to the past.  I release the judgment that keeps me from seeing the other (or myself) as a whole human being.  I am free to see their gifts and wounds, as well as my own.  

This is not theorizing.  This is my experience.  This is the testimony of thousands of people who have forgiven: in South Africa, in Rwanda, in Belfast, in Jerusalem, in homes and communities across the country.  If you want stories, check out Why Forgive?  by Johann Christoph Arnold.

Being forgiven is a wonderful blessing.  But forgiving another is even more so.  And, as Jesus’ prayer teaches us, we will experience forgiveness in the measure we give it.

Forgive someone today.  Be specific: what are you forgiving them for?  Then ask yourself: Am I willing to forgive?  Am I willing to forgive completely?  Am I willing to forgive totally?  Am I willing to forgive unconditionally?  If the answer is no, pray for the willingness.  When the answer is yes, say it out loud.  Repeat as needed.

Do yourself a favor.  Forgive someone today.

P.S.: I will be leading a retreat on forgiveness for women in AA and Al-Anon in June.  Want to know more?  Write me.

Monday in the First Week of Lent

Today I'm pleased to include my Companion Elizabeth to this page.  Elizabeth has her own blog, but she will occasionally join us during Lent.

She has posted this reflection on our Facebook page as well.  Thanks, E!

Fifteen “Thou Shalt nots” to only 3 “Thou Shalts!”  That’s there in today’s reading from Leviticus.  But look: “shalts” frame the “nots”.  “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am Holy” appears at the beginning and “You shall love your neighbor as yourself:  I am the Lord” concludes it.  Yes to holiness. No no no no no…to theft, lies, murder, grudges, and judging, just to name a few.  YES to love.  The passage tells me what I know in my bones to be true.  Holiness and Love are intimately related.  It has been easy to get confused about this.  With Bishop Michael Curry and countless others I am part of the Jesus Movement.  This is not my childhood Christianity—not primarily centered on trying to be a good girl—or nice.  It isn’t “Be holy…be pious” or “Be holy…be perfect.”  “Be holy: Love (like me!)” says God.  bell hooks calls it out:  our culture is mostly embarrassed and down right bad at loving.  She counters our “isms” that keep people down based on race, gender and class with a love ethic.  all about love: new visions lifts up love as a life-giving way.  She debunks the assumption that being ethical takes the fun out of life.  Love is what we “DO,” not so much what we feel. It transforms our lives.  She says “I know no one who has embraced a love ethic whose life has not become joyous and more fulfilling.”   That’s what I want: love, joy, freedom.  Lent is a season to “go for these,” but not without cost.  Jesus, God enfleshed, loves with no limit.  He loves even on the cross. He teaches what his Jewish roots did and do.  Become love-able.  We are able to learn to choose love, to become Holy.  God would not ask us to do what it is impossible to do.  Becoming more love-able means looking at where I fail at it.  Ouch.  The point isn’t the focus on failure.  I am heartened by a story told from time to time. When asked what about life in the monastery, a monk answered, “We fall down and we get up, we fall down and we get up.” The point is not that we fall down on loving, but to keep getting up.  Let’s dust ourselves and each other off and claim our love-ability this Lent. Dare to be Holy!

First Sunday in Lent

Genesis 2:15-17;3:1-7; Psalm 32; Romans 5:12-19; Matthew 4:1-11

It’s easy, in between two powerful stories, to glaze over this reading from Romans.  Don’t do it!  There’s some real food for your spirit in here.

Paul is telling a story based on the Genesis story.  It’s the story of how human development opened us up to choice and freedom, and we so often misused that freedom.  The Genesis story can sound like innocent people were trapped by God into making a bad choice.  After all, if God didn’t want us to have the knowledge of good and evil, what is that tree doing there?  But as a friend pointed out, this is an act of love on God’s part.  God doesn't want us to have to grow up, but God won’t force us to remain innocent and unaware.  God may regret our choices, but won’t take our freedom.

In the face of our bad choices, our sin, God first tries to save us by setting up a fence.  That fence is the Torah, the law of Moses.  It marks out the safe territory, but allows us the freedom to choose to stay within it or obey.  It’s something that might work with cattle, but with people it’s not so effective.  The fence tells us we’ve strayed, but it doesn’t help us choose to stay inside.

So God tries another approach.  God asks herself, What would it be like for these children of mine to really grow into their fullness, to be righteous rather than just innocent?  What would it look like if they could stand in the face of the knowledge of good and evil, and choose good of their own free choice?  And God decides to show us herself.

Just as one person’s “disobedience” spreads like a virus through a community, causing others to lose their way and infect others with fear and hatred, so one person’s righteous love can become a beacon of hope and peace for others.   The story of Adam and Eve tells us how sin gets started unintentionally, and builds on itself.  The story of Jesus tells us how the yeast of love and faithfulness can call us back to God.

Unlike Eve and Adam, Jesus is already self-aware.  He knows a tempter when he meets one.  He knows his potential as a child of God, and he knows his limits as a mortal human being.  And when he stands in that knowledge, angels surround him.

As Janet Morley’s beautiful collect for this day says, “Give us clarity to know what is right, and courage to reject what is strategic; that we may abandon the false innocence of failing to choose at all, but may follow the purposes of Jesus Christ.”  Amen.

May the angels surround and uphold you, today and always.

Saturday after Ash Wednesday

For a change, here's the Ash Wednesday homily of our friend and ConSPIRITor, the Rev. Alison Quin.  Thanks, Alison!

Fun fact:  The Muslim fast during Ramadan is based on Lent.

The Quran says that those who came before fasted, meaning Jews and Christians, and so should Muslims.  Specifically, Muslims fast to commemorate the revelation of the Quran to the prophet Muhammad.

They fast for an entire month—the month of Ramadan in the Muslim calendar. They do not eat or drink anything from sunrise to sunset.

Fasting, it is believed, helps one draw closer to God.  You are withdrawing from the things of this world, and turning your thoughts to God.

You are to fast, not only from food, but also from speaking ill of others, losing your temper, arguments or malicious behavior. And you are to help others whenever you can.

You are supposed to pray more during Ramadan, read through the entire Quran and give alms to those in need. 

Does this sound familiar?   The classic Lenten practices are fasting, prayer, reading Scripture and giving alms.  You are also invited to examine your life, and ask for God’s grace to help you with anything that draws you from the love of God and neighbor.

The 40 days of Lent are a time of preparation for the greatest feast of the Christian year—Jesus’ resurrection.  Easter is the day that our fear, and sin and death gave way to joy and love and life.  This is the feast of our transformation from people living in fear to people living in love. 

Our Lent practices help us to become more like Jesus,living in love with God and in love with other people.

As in Islam, the fasting and prayer, reading Scripture and giving alms are not just to heighten our awareness of God’s presence, but also to increase our compassion for others.

Muslims would agree with Isaiah that fasting does not please God if you continue to quarrel, fight, oppress your workers, speak ill and judge people. 

Like Muslims, we too are called to help others.  Isaiah spells out: 

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Some of the benefits that Muslims find in observing Ramadan include:  greater awareness of God’s presence, solidarity with people who suffer, greater self-control, helping others, a clear conscience and inner peace. 

My hope for Christians as we begin Lent is that we too will grow in awareness of God, compassion, self-control, helping others and inner peace.  In addition, I pray that we will grow closer to Jesus, and learn to look to him for help and grace in all that we do. 

Perhaps our Lenten prayer this year is to be able to see the commonality between us and those who are different from us—different faiths, different political views, different socioeconomic levels, different nationalities. 

Perhaps we could pray for unity—unity within our selves, unity with God, unity with our families and communities and nation, unity with other Christians, unity with people of other faiths, and unity with all of humanity. 

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Isaiah 58:1-9a; Psalm 51:1-10; Matthew 9:10-17

Why does new wine damage old wineskins?  New wine is still fermenting for a while.  In the process it expands.  Old wineskins have lost their elasticity and don't stretch anymore, so the expansion of the fermenting wine causes the skin to burst.  As Jesus says, both are ruined in the process.  It seems he prefers to preserve both the old skin and the new wine.  Both have their place; and indeed, over time the new skin will become old, and newer skin will be needed for new wine.  Eventually the old skins will become unusable, but by then the newer ones will be perfect for the older wine.

I always identify with the new wine.  I hear Jesus bringing news, not olds.  I love starting things and thinking up new ways to do things.  But as time goes on, I have to admit that my skin is losing some elasticity.  I get set in my ways.  And as our community takes shape, I expect others to fit within the skin we've been creating.  That's a necessity, and a danger.

All communities and organizations take certain shapes.  When new people join, they are expected to fit their wine into the old skin, and generally they are judged by how well they do that.  But St. Benedict saw the possibility that if new wine is straining the old skin, the problem may be with the skin rather than the wine.  He urged the abbot to listen to the novices and newcomers, who bring fresh eyes.  His rule aimed to create a "skin" that was fresh enough to hold the new wine of the Gospel, while letting it mellow in a stable environment.  That is a hard balance to maintain!

Families share this dynamic.  Children are raised to fit in the wineskin: "As long as I pay the bills, I make the rules!" But children, and young people, and newcomers, bring fresh vision.  The effort involved in helping them understand the skin of the family rules also keeps the parents supple, as they must reflect on their ways of doing things.  The balance strengthens both the new and the old.

In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says: “A person of advanced ago must go immediately and ask an infant born just seven days about life’s source.  Such asking leads to life when what is first becomes last.  United they become a single whole.”  (Logion 4)

Where is your skin a little brittle these days?  Where are you being challenged by new wine?  Pray for the grace to keep loose enough to learn and grow.

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Psalm 1; Luke 9:18-25

Yesterday was a different sort of Ash Wednesday for me.  We aren’t living at the monastery as we did the previous years, and my day was not enclosed or quiet in the way it has been.  And I think that was a good thing.

First, we went to Christ the King Episcopal Church for the 7 am service.  Daily Eucharist at home is a wonderful thing, but Ash Wednesday needs more ceremony and more company.  There we heard the alternative first reading, from Isaiah 58 (see tomorrow’s readings), urging us to loose the bonds of injustice rather than practice piety.  We heard a powerful homily from the rector, Alison Quin.  

Then, rather than a day of silence, I went to the SUNY Ulster Food Pantry.  I distributed food, and ashes, and prayed with people.  So many people simply don't have the time, or the faith community, to begin Lent as they might like.  Being there with them felt like the fast that Isaiah talks about.

Today I fasted from the privilege of our quiet life.  I served others, and I took steps to be able to serve more people in the future.  I put mission and ministry ahead of my ideas of what is “fitting” for Ash Wednesday.  And under the activity was a deep peace.

I didn’t exactly take up my cross, if by that we mean some sort of suffering forebearance.  But if my cross is the instrument of my salvation, the hard road to fullness of life, then perhaps I lifted it a little.  I chose life, for myself and for others.

Do you have a picture of what holiness entails?  Does it ever get in the way of responding to those in need, or your own need?  Perhaps you want to lay that picture aside for Lent, and take up the cross that will lead you to new life instead.  Don’t let anyone tell you which cross is yours; love God, love your neighbor (that is, everyone), do what you can so that we thrive together.  I’ll see you on the road!