January 29: Fourth Sunday of Epiphany

Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31; Matthew 5:1-12

Karl Barth advised preachers to preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.  That goes for bloggers too, I guess.

Donald Trump, are you listening?

“. . . and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

“LORD, who may dwell in your tabernacle?  Who may abide upon your holy hill?  Whoever leads a blameless life and does what is right . . . shall never be overthrown” (Psalm 15:1-2, 7)

“God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong . . . so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (1 Cor. 1:27-28).

Got it yet?

“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth . . . Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy” (Matthew 5:5, 7).

Parker Palmer says that disillusionment is one of the great accidental sources of contemplative awareness.  When we are disillusioned, we lose our illusions.  We become aware of what is, rather than how we’d like it to be.  It is a painful way to contemplation, but if contemplation is an honest confrontation with reality, disillusionment is essential.

This week we’ve heard that both the Dakota pipeline and the Keystone will be cleared to go forward, devastating the earth and all the inhabitants near these monstrosities.  The wall is being planned.  Refugees are being turned away.  We’ve seen foreign aid cut for family planning and abortion services.  We’ve seen a blank check to ignore the Affordable Care Act, sending millions scrambling to find a way to get what they need to live.  And more is on the way.  We’re used to seeing Washington in bed with Wall Street; now Washington IS Wall Street, blended in a weird way with white supremacists and isolationists of all stripes.

Now, I don’t expect that this will change because of today’s Scriptures.  I don’t believe Donald Trump believes in God, or cares what any god might think.  But I believe, and I care.  I believe that these words are inspired by the Holy Spirit.  The question today is, how will that belief and these words shape my life?  Will I let them take me beyond despair or self-righteous anger to transformation in the midst of this new face of empire?

I need to be meek, and merciful, and pure of heart: more than ever.

I need to believe that our weakness binds us together and makes us a sign of God’s love.

I need to do justice, and love kindness, and walk humbly with God: in marches, in emails and letters, in our neighborhoods, even, God forbid, in our churches or faith communities.

In the depths of Communist rule in Czechoslovakia, Vaclav Havel organized underground theater and writing groups.  Like Nelson Mandela, he went from political prisoner to President.  He doesn't put his trust in God so much as in “man,” but the human spirit he invokes we know as the Holy Spirit dwelling in our hearts.  The path of non-violent resistance and mercy looks like foolishness to many, but it is the power and the wisdom of God.  May you, may I, may we follow that path faithfully today and in the days to come.

January 27

Today the Episcopal Church remembers Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe, three servants of God who were integral to the development of the early Church.  Finally, women are being seen and remembered on our calendar.  With their inclusion we get a bigger picture of ministry and discipleship.  It doesn't always mean leaving everyone and speaking in public.  Just as crucial are the people who open their doors to others, those who clothe and feed people, those who quietly encourage or teach.  

I'm always balancing my desire to go out and proclaim with my desire to make a place for others to come to.  The joy of community is that we can take turns doing both, and more.  As more people come to live as Companions, that flexibility will grow.  We also have to balance the call to live simply with the need to have a nice enough space to welcome guests.  It's a relief to remember that there's no one best way to serve.

How do you live out your love of God and others?  I'd love to hear.  However you do it, thank you for being part of the great chain of love.  Blessings on you and your ministry (yes, that's what it is, don't be shy).

January 25: Conversion of St. Paul

Acts 26:9-21; Psalm 67; Galatians 1:11-24; Matthew 10:16-22

This is one of my favorite feast days.  I relate to Paul on so many levels.  His passion, his desire to connect, his arrogance and insecurity - I know myself to contain all that.  I relate to Paul's willingness, or compulsion, to turn on a dime and follow this new call.  And while my conversion experience was not as dramatic as his, the consequences for my life were pretty drastic. 

In 2000 I left my job teaching political theory and women studies and entered an Episcopal convent.  I think of that sometimes as my time in Arabia, preparing me for mission.  I lost a lot of friends with that shift, not so much because they rejected me as because I withdrew with that move.  I couldn't hold together the old and the new for a long time.  Eventually I circled back to integrate those lives, but it took time. 

Paul isn't ashamed of his past.  He persecuted the group he is now trying to grow.  But he knows that his experience is a gift.  God grabbed him and turned him, and is using him.  He is exhibit A of the wisdom of God that can look like foolishness (1 Cor. 1:21).  He proclaims a Gospel that scandalized people then, and now.  Suffering?  Undergoing?  What kind of God is that?  He says that is the God who unites humanity and divinity, and shows us how to do the same.  

I try to follow that God.  I still fight with my reptilian brain, with my fear of suffering, but I believe the promise too.  I want to live full out, not holding back, pouring out all I have for the love of God and you.  I am still me, as a Paul was still Paul, but I am transformed by the love of Christ.  I pray that you know that love, that you find yourself dislocated and overwhelmed by that love, and that you get your bearings and share with others.  If this has happened to you already, I pray that it happen again.  Dislocation is a door to contemplation, as Parker Palmer says.  See!  Our God is with you.

January 24: Ordination of Florence Li Tim-Oi

Jeremiah 17:14-18a; Psalm 116:1-2; Galatians 3:23-28; Luke 10:1-9

If you don’t know Florence Li Tim-Oi’s story, go on line.  She was the first woman ordained a priest in the Anglican Communion (when the male priests had left or been targeted), but forced to refrain from functioning as one after the war.  She eventually moved to Canada and resumed her priestly duties.  Inspiring, frustrating: the Church in a nutshell.

Our readings reflect that duality.  We read Paul’s statement that in Christ there is neither male nor female (nor slave or free, for that matter), but we know that he also accommodated himself to both slavery and women’s silencing.  For centuries we’ve been reading this passage and explaining it away.

Today we can’t let it slide.  Today women’s rights and dignity are being threatened in ways we thought we were done with.  Russia’s government is preparing to decriminalize domestic violence.  The U.S. government is led by a man who grabs women’s crotches, calls it pussy, and gets away with it.  He has ordered a ban on all international aid that might possibly go for abortions, and a larger ban on family planning awaits.  The numbers of people trapped in slavery continue to rise.

And yet, Paul’s words are true and clear.  In Christ there is neither female nor male.  Or there’s both, and more.  In the kingdom of God, in the dream of the Holy One, we are a wide spectrum of beautiful children grown up to become heirs and stewards.  This is where we need to stand: not simply opposed to another’s agenda, though that follows from our stand, but rooted and grounded in Christ.

Thank you, Florence.  Thank you, Philadelphia Eleven and all that first generation.  Thank you, you who work for the dignity of all.  May you be blessed and strengthened to make the difference you dream of.

January 22: Third Sunday in Epiphany

Isaiah 9:1-4; Psalm 27:1, 5-13; 1 Corinthians 1:10-18; Matthew 4:12-23

There’s a lot comfort for me in these readings.  Of course, “comfort” derives from the Latin “con fort,” with strength; it used to mean forcing soldiers to move forward, not making them feel good.  That’s good news, given these readings.  There’s a lot of comfort here.

I hear Jesus calling me, every day.  Unfortunately, I don’t hear as clearly as Andrew and Peter and James and John; there’s more static for me, more chances to second-guess.  But I hear it, and I try to follow.  This call is not “comforting” in the comfortable sense; it is more like a poke in the behind, the other kind of comfort.  I am comforted in the peace that comes, even in the midst of the storm, when I do my best to follow.

The other kind of comfort comes for me when I read Paul’s reminder that “the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”  I’m not comforted by thinking of anyone perishing, though I know what he means; there is a kind of death by asphyxiation when we rely only on our reason to get us through.  No, the comfort comes in remembering that this foolish and crazy life I’ve followed may actually be life in the power of God.  It seems that way, as I look at the blossoming happening within me and around us here.  My rational mind would say, “Get a regular job!  Save money for yourself!  Who knows what’s going to happen?  You can’t count on anyone or anything to take care of you.”  But my soul, my heart that’s been captured by this giant love, says to trust and follow.  It says that if I stick close to Jesus things might get messy and scary, but I will find my life.  And so far my soul speaks crazy truth.

I don’t know what your path will take you to.  I do hope and pray that you will follow boldly and whole-heartedly.  For your sake, for the world’s sake, be a fool for Christ today.

January 20, 2017

Dear God,

Lead us from death to life,

from falsehood to truth.

Lead us from despair to hope,

from fear to trust.

Let peace fill our hearts,

our world, our universe.

Let us dream together,

pray together,

work together,

to build one world

of peace and justice for all.

     -Amonymous

January 19

2 Corinthians 5:14-20

This is the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  This year the prayer sheet I received lists this passage as the guiding Scripture for the week, using one verse each day as its theme.  Elizabeth and I are reading it together each day.  Today, day 2, the verse is 5:15: "And he died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them."  There's a lot of ideas packed into that one sentence.  What does it mean to die for us?  For all?  And what does it mean to live for him?  I don't have all the answers (or even many), but I have a few thoughts.

Living for Christ doesn't mean getting a church job or becoming a professional missionary.  One thing it means for me is that we don't have to continually start from the beginning and draw only on our resources.  We are in Christ, our lives have meaning as part of the larger healing of the world.  We receive energy and power and hope through this context.  In turn, we spread this context - we live in the reign of God, here and now.

On another level, I think we live "for" Christ, in place of Jesus the human who lived in a particular time and place.  A prayer attributed to Teresa of Avila names us as the hands and feet of Christ in the world.  We are charged with doing the work of Christ - healing, freeing, proclaiming, forgiving.  As later verses make clear, this is the work of reconciling humans with God.  It's not a one-time deal.  Each day we begin again, looking for the life that fills and guides us and looking for where to carry that to others.

I no longer live for myself.  That's a relief.  Living for myself is lonely and barren.  Living for others can verge into codependency and control.  Living for Christ means my concerns don't have to be the center even of my own life.  I have a bigger picture and bigger possibility.  The one who showed me the way through death to life is enabling me to show others.

Where are you aware of living for Christ today?