Our Sister Phoebe, a Deacon . . .

What Are We Looking For?

2011-01-26T15:15:00.001-08:00

“What are you looking for?”
Let me rephrase that: What are we looking for?
Over the last week, many of us have been looking for answers to the horrible event in Arizona. Answers to questions like, “Why?” “How could this have prevented?” and “What is wrong with this country?” During the last unsettling eight days, I noticed, and I hope that you did also, a rumbling, a stirring, maybe a whisper, of calls to right action, to put things right. Most notable to me were Jim Wallis’ call to transcend politics in response to violence; the First Lady’s call to service, inviting us to emulate Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and speak out against poverty, injustice and violence; the President’s speech at the memorial service at the University of Arizona, which was actually praised by some of his detractors; the calls by many, many, more, famous and not, to stop the bickering, stop the hate, and come together. Finally, there was a comment posted on iTunes by a young person in a review he posted about the 1979 film, Jesus:
“Man, if people just went by a few of his teachings, we wouldn’t be duckin’ all the time!”
And for those who asked, “Where was God in all this, or what would Jesus do?” I say, God was present, God received those who died in his loving embrace to live another life apart from ours, God opened the hearts and eyes of many to begin a dialogue of unity, sanity and reconciliation – we only pray that it continues until love is the answer, and not violence, when it comes to resolving differences.
And Jesus? What we’ve lived through is nothing new to him.
Jesus was born and lived in times more violent than ours. Israel was occupied by a foreign empire that sucked the life and taxes out of it – people struggled to exist and live through adversity and they undoubtedly thought they had lost favor with God. There were people, however, who looked for answers and wondered about life and their relationship with God, and they nurtured and kept alive the hope that began with Abraham and Moses as they waited for the Messiah. They flocked to teachers who stirred up that hope and kindled a flame for the Kingdom of God. John was one of those, and as he gathered his disciples to him on the banks of the Jordan River, he called them to repent and return to God. More and more people looking for answers, searching for a relationship with God, came to him. But he wasn’t who they thought he was – he wasn’t the anointed one. He told his followers that the one they were searching for would come and was already among them and He would restore the people of Israel to God.
John turned seekers toward Jesus, too. When Jesus walked by, John pointed him out to two of his own disciples, Andrew and another, and told them to follow.
And so they did. Following in this sense of the word meant a commitment to discipleship. But in this instance, not yet. Jesus, who didn’t miss a thing, turned to these two future apostles and says:
“What are you looking for?”
Rather than state the obvious, they response to the question with a question. Their answer is just strange – perhaps they were taken off guard that he actually noticed them, or they were nervous or tongue-tied – we’ve all been there, right? The moment when someone you open your mouth and the wrong thing comes out as you try to impress the new boss, a potential lover, your professor? These disciples ask, “Where are you staying?” If they had asked, “We’d like to know what you’re all about,” or “We want to join your movement,” and as a result got blunt answers and a glimpse into their futures, would they have followed? Instead, they ask a strange question. Jesus tells them, “Come and see.” It is gracious, simple, and it opens up new challenges, new possibilities and a new relationship with God for them. They went and saw; they spent the day with Jesus and later went to tell their family and friends about what they had done, who they had met. Our community, our Church, began with this invitation that was extended generation to generation, down to us.
“What are you looking for?” Jesus asks us.
Even today, especially today, we have curious seekers of the truth and light, looking for meaning in their lives and to events that we cannot understand. When you and I ask, “what are we looking for?” Jesus turns to us and says, “Come and see.” He states no conditions, no regulations, no two-year contract or small print at the bottom of a rapidly moving screen.
And so we come to Jesus, and we look for and we see in Christ a life as it should be for all of us. We are given hope, unconditional love and the promise of eternal life through our belief and faith. With these, we have the means to bring harmony and love to our communities, to the world.
We are children in and of the Kingdom, called by Christ to grow and change, to be living examples of our baptismal covenant: to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves, and to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.
Can you imagine a life as wonderful as that? Can you imagine an entire world like that?
“Come and see,” he says, and we say.
You and I are called to extend that simple and gracious invitation to those searching. We are invited to call to them and say, come stand in the light that dispels the darkness, come and realize love, come be with sisters and brothers of like mind, come and help work for change, take right action, come help stop the violence, come to the Father and stand at this table, come and embrace the Word.
Come and see, for Christ invites you, and you are welcome.

A Light Shines so Very Brightly...

2010-12-26T08:29:00.001-08:00

A light unlike any other shines brightly this morning. It isn’t a beam of winter sunlight like those crossing a floor, but a spark has been ignited, an ember smolders deep within, and I believe it has been struck within me, within you, and you – all of us. All that’s required is fanning the flame with love, trust and belief. That kindling comes from a sentence as simple and as powerful as they come:
“In the beginning was the Word.”
It has been said that the the Gospel of John, the prologue to which you have just heard proclaimed, is a summary of Christian life -- conversion, baptism, Eucharist and quest for higher spirituality. It is a revelation of the true identity of Jesus and his connection to God. It has been called an apologia written in a time when the Johannine community was divided over the question of Jesus’ divinity. Or it is all of these.
This prologue continues the mystery and beauty of the Christmas story. We are invited to carry that mystery and beauty with us during the rest of the year, to move out of the dark spaces and corners in our lives towards the light that embraces, offers grace. John’s poetic language tells us that God wanted to lift us out of darkness so very much, that he did something deities and monarchs rarely do – God climbed off whatever throne we frail humans planted him on, and came down to our level. What’s even more amazing is that when God arrived, it was in the form of a helpless infant, born to common, yet uncommon people, and as he grew into manhood he experienced the joys, sorrows and delights of your average first century Galilean -- and inconceivable pain.
Why? Why did this extraordinary incarnation happen?
The obvious answer is atonement for humanity’s imperfect nature and actions, to bring us closer to God.
Here’s a better answer.
Love.
God loves us and went to a great deal of trouble to show us how it is to love perfectly and completely and it was done in the form of Jesus, who is our light dispelling darkness.
I used to call the days after Christmas Day the dark time. This started when I was a little girl and continued until I began to understand the difference between darkness and light where it concerns God.
Why did I call it the dark time? Christmas was over – Christmas trees were kicked to the curb; gone were the shiny decorations, the bright, colored lights, the fake snow in a can, the Glass Wax snowflake stenciling on the windows, the endless carols on the radio stations – the happy season of peace on earth and good will towards all was torn off the block of calendar sheets for another three hundred and sixty four days. It seemed to me, and this is my humble and personal observation, that the smiles on the faces people from Thanksgiving to Christmas, that look of expectancy, the sounds happy greetings and optimism, faded and people looked grim, worried, preoccupied – again.
The dark time was upon my world.
But, like so many other times in my life, I was dead wrong.
No, it is really a time of light; it started with the story of a child born in a manger, and continues with healing, of power beyond belief, a fullness of being, of humanity receiving grace upon grace and to be blessed with the gifts God has bestowed upon us through Jesus. Unfortunately, there were and are those who for whatever reason cannot recognize that Jesus is the light of the world and rejected the man and the message. But to those who accept him, then and now, and that is to say, put their trust in him, and made a commitment to the Word, a deeper relationship is formed with Jesus; he becomes our brother, and therefore, we become children of God.
Whatever darkness may envelop the world, whatever gloomy clouds may hang over us in our own lives, it cannot dim the light. We have grace from God to keep the light going. The smallest gesture of kindness, act of compassion, or work of mercy will light up the life of someone else, and in turn, will light up the world.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."
With Christmas, we embark on a journey in light towards light. I invite you, my sisters and my brothers, to keep the candle in your hearts and souls burning after the merchants and high rises have packed away the decorations and silenced the carols for another year. Let every day be Christmas in your hearts. In just a week, we will embark on a new year with new possibilities, new hopes and dreams. As with every New Year there is a fresh canvas before us, waiting for us to apply the first brush stroke. Do we want to live in light and experience the love and grace offered to us, follow a path of endless possibilities in a life in Christ, or is it going to be business as usual with grim, set, faces, preoccupied with matters that we have no control over and live in a dark time?
Come, let’s dispel the darkness and walk in the light that is our brother the infant in the manager, the man walking in Capernaum, in the Temple, and our savior on the Cross.

You Can't Park that Hummer in Heaven, My Friend...

2010-10-11T20:56:00.000-07:00

The Kingdom of Heaven is a place where equality is and always will be. There are no barriers due to class, color or gender. All are loved and respected. Friends, do you believe that such a kingdom is within our reach, or is here and now?
I believe that it is within our grasp, and we have the means to make it tangible and real. We don’t have the extreme class divisions like those in the first century – oh, we have divisions aplenty, and they are visible, but today we have hope and opportunities to change our conditions. Unlike the poor today, Lazarus would not have been allowed to rise above his class even if he had been given purple cloth to wear instead of sores, or have a medical plan that offered antibiotics instead of a dog to wash his wounds. Nor would he have had a chance at a lottery for a bed in a local shelter rather than sleeping outside the Rich Man’s gate, or counselors to help teach new job skills..
The message we have this morning is a continuation of the themes we’ve heard over the past few weeks – coveting and hoarding wealth is not the way to earn points with God. God loves you, but don’t think for a minute God likes how you’re living large. Extreme wealth and extreme poverty are evident in society, but the wealth and richness of Christ’s good news are the treasures we should hold on to, as well as sharing what we have. As we have heard, “what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God.”
Now we all need money – it gives us the necessities of food, shelter, clothing, livelihood. Poverty can destroy one’s soul. But if we have the Gospel to live by, and we have the love of God through Christ, we have the foundation for the life that is true life, don’t you think? A bit simplistic, but Jesus asks us, and we are reminded every time we come to his table, that love is paramount, that we love one another as he loves us. Nothing simple in that message.
Two of the baptismal charges are that we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves and to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being. The Rich Man didn’t have these, but he did have the words of Moses and the prophets to live by. Had he used his resources wisely for the benefit of the community, had he honored an obligation expected of him to the poor and oppressed, his end would have been different. The Rich Man did not grasp that his lack of compassion toward Lazarus was against the will of God. The tables turned on him. Lazarus did not earn his place in the hereafter, but received compensation for the misfortune and misery that was his earthly life and were beyond his control. We know what his life was, and we can guess what his needs were: clothing, shelter, food, medicine, companionship, what we know as basic necessities, and yet, they were denied him.
The Rich Man had needs too – he needed to serve his brother Lazarus, to experience a life that was a true, real life and one that he might have shared with people like Lazarus. But, in failing to recognize that money is a root of all kinds of evil, and, in failing to recognize Lazarus as an equal, the Rich Man builds a chasm between them – and so he finds himself staring up at Lazarus with Abraham. And even then he wants to use Lazarus for a servant, to give him a drop of water on his tongue.
Jesus’ parable illustrates that there is something better for us and more real than those materialistic things we long for – the reality that we were not created in isolation, but to love and be loved; not to use one another, but to be partners in a world that has endless possibilities for equality and justice. We were created not to face one another across chasms that we make, but to build bridges.
This parable has immediacy. It is for all who have ears to listen. And as we listen, perhaps we wonder which character in the story fits us best.
Lazarus? We all have needs and longings.
The Rich Man? There is that acquisitive, materialistic tendency in our society that is almost hypnotic…
If we are anyone, I think, it would be the brothers. Still living, we have the benefit of hearing this parable and knowing history, and as its current audience, we can learn what is required of us.
There is hope in our lessons today.
For all the wealthy in the world who are like the Rich Man, there are people who take their wealth and invest it in projects that may turn out to be the earthen jars containing deeds to life for millions of people. Not too long ago, I rallied parishiones to combine our wealth and gave over seven thousand dollars to Episcopal Relief and Development’s “Gifts for Life” to benefit emerging communities throughout the world. We’ve also given generously in time, talent and currency to help our own community in Berkeley.
We have the hope that is the Word, the prophets, we have God in Christ.
All of us have a Lazarus outside our gates; someone who presents an opportunity for us to live up to our baptismal promises. How we respond will decide our lives here and in the hereafter. The choice is up to us; we can build bridges across class divisions or create chasms to keep us apart. We can choose to offer our love now and not wait for the after life.
The Kingdom of Heaven is here and now; look around you. It is a place where we all have a part helping people at the gates, in the shelters, in hospitals and homes, in the workplace: some ‘do’ the work and some ‘lead,’ and there are some who go back and forth, leading over bridges, repairing them if they must – I like to call those people deacons. But let me tell you, deacons are not lone rangers or God’s commandos solving the world’s ills alone and standing up to injustice and inequality like a super hero – we cannot be a faith community of one – it is a community of many, a community where the poor in their common cloth may sit down at the table with the rich in their purple, where we all drink from the same cup and share a loaf of bread, where all are truly welcome.
My friends, the Kingdom of Heaven is like that, and like this.

A Servant, But Not Servile...

2010-08-10T12:45:00.000-07:00

Years ago, colleague at my secular job made a comment about my vocation that stuck, and comes back every now and then to remind me of who and what I am.

I was asked very innocently, but respectfully, when I explained that diakonos translated to 'servant' in Greek, someone who waited at tables. I went on to explain that the stole the deacon in the church wore, the Byzantine stole that is worn across the body and throw over the left shoulder and down the back could very well signify the towel Jesus wore when he washed the feet of his disciples on that last Thursday night, or it could be the draping of the cloak. Take a look at ancient illustrations of Jesus and paintings of him and you'll see what I mean - the drape of the cloak is similiar to our stoles. I could be wrong, but the comment always invites an interesting conversation.

The comment my friend made was, "Why do you want to be a servant? People walk all over servants, take advantage of them, they get lousy wages."

I replied that waiters made good tips, and that one could serve others and not be servile.

I've lived and grown into that model over the years.

I've had excellent role models - the deacons Stephen and Laurence are excellent examples. Stephen was the one of the first seven to be ordained by the early church and the ministry Christ gave to him is illustrated in the Book of Acts at Chapter 6, verse 1 and continuing into all of Chapter 7. Stephens preaches a powerful sermon, an apology of the infant church, and is stoned to death - the first post-resurrection 'martyr' recorded. Martyr in greek translates to 'witness,' and Stephen's powerful, eloquent, preaching, is a witness to his faith and the power of Jesus working in him. Over a hundred years later, another deacon, Laurence, one of the seven deacons of Rome who served the Pope, would also use his words as witness and received death in response. Laurence was asked by the prefect to Valerian to bring to him the treasures of the church in three days' time. Three days passed, and Laurence brought the poor, homeless and the sick before the prefect stating that they were the treasures of the church. His comment got him grilled, literally, and he reportedly said before he died, "Turn me over, for I am done on this side." Wit and compassion, conviction. Faith, power and fearless before one's detractors.

Not very servile traits.

One can serve and still hold one's convictions and be powerful, using the strength of Christ as one lives out the Gospel.

I try to every day.

Go in peace, dear one!

E+

Previously, in the Good News....

2010-04-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

It’s low Sunday, but spirits are high – Jesus is risen and we are glad indeed. And here we are again to hear more of this marvelous story. Here’s a recap:
“. . . and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and the all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, the mother of James, and the other women with them who told all this to the Apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. . .”
No idle tale, is it? And now the story continues from last week’s Easter gospel; it doesn’t end with a shadow on the beach, or a close up of a shroud in a grave as Hollywood gives us; the news spreads, the imperial government and its Temple collaborators get nervous, the excitement and joy builds. The story continues in the Book of Acts, Paul’s letters, the anonymous writings of first century Christians and not-so-anonymous persons, and in the lives of everyone who has heard the Good News and proclaimed it. The story has an epilogue, and we are it.
We are those who have not seen and yet, have come to believe. Jesus’ blessing on those who come to faith without the necessity of sight or touch is not a chiding of Thomas for his lack of faith at that moment, but an affirmation of the generations who have relied on the Word and Thomas’ actions for their faith.
Thomas is called the Doubter. He was bold to have stood before his friends and fellow disciples to say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Where did this come from? Was it that Thomas still didn’t get it, or was it grief, fear or shame taking up space in his heart and mind? His teacher and leader had been executed as a criminal, after all; perhaps he didn’t want to believe for fear of what it meant – crucifixion. Or, it was grief at the loss of someone he loved taking hold and putting him into denial. Perhaps all of the above. We don’t know why Thomas wasn’t with the others when Jesus first appeared to them – there’s no clue – but it begs the imagination, doesn’t it? He might have been going out for food for the rest, but what if he engaged in the work Jesus called him to, in full sight of Jesus' persecutors. Imagine Thomas saying, "Yes, you killed him! But it doesn't kill the message or the meaning! Here I am, doing exactly what he was doing! What are you going to do about it?"
But he is called Doubting Thomas and that nickname has become an appellation for those of us who steadfastly refuse to believe or take at face value what we cannot see.
Haven’t we all at one time, questioned what we’ve been taught or told, or seen, especially when the hour and the day are dark and feel without promise? When those moments come, God puts into play or reveals something that turns one from being faithless to faithful, something like the Resurrection. Remember Paul’s words to the Hebrews: “now faith is a well-grounded assurance of that for which we hope, and a conviction of the reality of things which we do not see.”
Faith requires that we who have not seen, believe. Belief that the Kingdom is here and now, belief that God is always with us.
God came to us in the form and blessing of Jesus. So many prophets came before Jesus claiming to be the Christ but they slipped away into obscurity, suffered ignominious deaths like Jesus. What made him so different?

He was who he said he was. He did what he said he was going to do. The resurrection of Christ gave new life to humanity, to those who believed. What was promised by Jesus in his teaching was and is being lived out. The apostles, the first followers of Jesus, proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom - what Jesus promised in his teachings and ministry was made true. The followers of Jesus live out the new commandment - that they love one another as Jesus loved them, and in attending to the needs of one another, what Jesus commanded was made tangible and real.

The apostles became the leaders of the movement and strived to live as they were taught, showing that “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great family of different people, living together, loving one another and all living in equality.” What Jesus demonstrated in his ministry was kept alive by the faith, belief and right action.

And this is where we come in.

We are now the disciples, called to keep the Good News in play, to keep the Word in our hearts and minds, and to keep it alive. How you and I do this depends on the gifts God has given each one of us, and how the Spirit moves within us.

We’re always looking for new ways to proclaim the Gospel, to tell the story, to keep it fresh and alive. Jesus walks with us every step of the way - sometimes we have to open our hearts and minds a bit wider to see him, get past our own wounds so that we can see his. No, we haven’t seen the five wounds except in artwork and in scripture, but we know they are real. Every time we say ‘peace be with you,’ Christ says it to us. And when I send people out at the end of the service to go in peace to love and serve the Lord, I mean it. Again, how you follow through is dependent on what you called to do.

It’s time for us to pick up our pens and continue the story. What will you write on the page? Perhaps it will be to say that you and I can see Jesus working in our lives and we are continually blessed by that grace - sight unseen.

Let’s show the world in thought, word and deed, that Christ is our Lord and our God – show the world that we believe.

Found!

2010-03-14T22:13:00.001-07:00

Here we are at Joyful Sunday, Mothering Sunday, Refreshment Sunday, Rose Sunday – many names for a day whose readings give us much to rejoice about, especially our Gospel lesson: love, forgiveness and joy. The focus of the Gospel, however, is not a mother, but a father whose actions are contrary to his society’s traditions, as are the actions of his sons, and his response. Even the parable is revolutionary and disturbing for its time. Nor do I think the shock and awe of this story has worn off after so many centuries.

What would you do if you were sitting down to dinner with a few friends others thought unsavory or unsuitable - tax collectors, sinners, outcasts, to name a few - and the local authorities started to complain about your behavior, the people you associate with?

We know what Jesus would do – he would teach them, illustrate his actions, his message, and what the Kingdom of Heaven was all about, with a parable.

This story about the loving father taught the Pharisees and scribes that there was no either/or with God, nor with Jesus or the Good News he brought to us. Yet it was, and is still, difficult not to think in terms of black and white: good son or bad son, Pharisee or tax collector, saint or sinner. Fortunately, God doesn’t roll that way. In all of the lessons this morning, we hear how God works with, in and through us towards reconciliation and forgiveness, with love, and offers us new lives.

See what happens at the end of our story this morning.

A father responds with patience and love to both of his sons. He puts aside propriety and runs to greet his boy – patriarchs didn’t run in first century Judea; CEOs don’t run in the 21st century – Rather than wait at the house surrounded by family and servants, or with the Board of Directors in a conference room, and demand an explanation, and it darn well better be a pretty good explanation from the boy, the father welcomes his son home with an embrace. When his eldest son reacts negatively and with jealousy to the honor his brother receives, especially the party, and that fact that his brother is being treated as if he’s only been on a trip for the family business, the father goes out to him – again, patriarchs didn’t do that in first century Judea; do you think a CEO would go out to explain an interoffice memo to a line worker? – The father invites him to come in saying, “. . . you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” He also gives freely – to the youngest, he first gives an inheritance, then a robe, a ring and a party. To the eldest, he gives all that he has. No questions asked. No hesitation, no conditions.

This is how God responds to us. This demonstrates love and a willingness to forgive behavior that was unacceptable, and that God is willing to do the same. God is the father in this parable.

What I like about the story and you may agree with me here – or not – is that we have no ending. There’s no “and they all sat down to a fine meal and made merry and lived happily ever after.” It is left to us to decide what happens next, to think about what we’ve just heard and apply it to our own situations and lives – and isn’t that a way of God’s working in us? I would like to think that after the eldest brother got over the resentment and anger, he took a moment to reflect on the blessings in his life, on his family, and that he came around and welcomed his brother back and the relationship between them, and their father, was restored. Doesn’t this remind you of Joseph and his brothers, or Jacob and Esau? Or that fight you had with a parent, sibling, your lover? Your friend? After you came around, the initial moments of nervous conversation and confession were rough to the point of pain, but when you said, “I’m sorry, forgive me,” or you both said it at once, didn’t you just want to go out and celebrate?

Although the emphasis here is on love and reconciliation, there’s no denying that each of the players in this story is lost in some way. Both sons are lost - the youngest son for his bad choices and behavior, the elder son for his self-righteousness and anger, his jealousy. The father is lost by his society’s standards: he’s weak, a bit of a pushover, and he takes action out of love for his sons, rather than his standing in the community and as a patriarch. God is at work here and moves him towards forgiveness.

With this parable, Jesus takes us beyond a commentary on sin and righteousness to give us a sense of what it truly means to be in relationship to others and to the Lord. Yes, he socializes with tax collectors and sinners, but how glad will God be when those same people amend their lives because they have heard Jesus’ words and believed, they who were once lost, are now found? The dutiful son and the disobedient son, the Pharisee and the Savior, all are worthy of God’s love. The Kingdom of Heaven is like that!

We are all lost in some way - give us a garden to live in and we will disobey the simple rules on the gate and be evicted, offer us a covenant we’ll manage to break it, find a way to get out of it. Provide us with a Messiah – you know the rest.

But we are found, and that is more than enough reason to be joyful on this Sunday and every day. We are found, and it is through the prodigious, boundless, grace of God and love and the Good News of Jesus. And the parable we have just heard is not simply one of the best and well-crafted of stories, it is an illustration of what it means to be redeemed.

Here I am, Lord - now throw me one of those nets!

2010-02-07T17:46:00.000-08:00

One of the few memories I have of my father is the morning he took me fishing. We sat on the end of the pier in Rodeo and he showed me how to bait the hook, cast the line – and wait. And wait. Oh, and wait some more. It was frustrating, just sitting there, though it was nice to watch the morning sun on the water, the barges coming in and out of the refinery wharf, the goats in the field across the road from the pier – I desperately wanted to keep those goats at a distance. So much preparation went into the adventure before we even left the apartment, that I thought surely we would come home with something to eat.

We did.

My father stopped by the market and brought home a can of tuna.

Fishing is hard work, an art form, and one needs a lot of patience and perseverance to succeed, and for the people of living around Lake Gennesaret, the location of this morning’s Gospel, it was their whole economy. A day coming up empty was discouraging to say the very least. We’ve just heard that it was here Jesus asks Simon to take him out in the boat so that he could teach the crowds gathering at the shore. After preaching, he asks Simon to go further out, into deeper water and drop the nets again. Simon knows Jesus – he came to Simon’s house and healed his Simon’s mother-in-law – Jesus can heal, can teach, preach, but can he fish? And yet Simon says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing; yet, if you say so, I will let down the nets.”

Simon does what is asked of him, perhaps in the midst of doubt, for his experience is that the lake is empty. As always, when it is least expected, the Lord provides with abundance, and the catch pulled in begins to break the nets and a second boat is called for. Simon cries out, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” This response is not so much a confession of guilt, or moral failing, but an expression of awe to be in God’s presence, and to witness the working of such power and to receive the grace offered without condition. Jesus reassures Simon, James and John not to fear, for they will be bringing in a different catch soon – men and women to new life, using as bait the good news of the Gospel in Christ.

The lessons we hear during Epiphany call us to focus on a new direction to ministry – they focus on the actions of those who hear and respond to God’s call, and this is illustrated in the Gospel and in the Hebrew scripture this morning. The lessons speak to the unwilling, ever-cautious, if not fearful, evangelist in all of us. Standing at the shore and listening to Jesus’ message is one thing, but climbing into that boat and throwing the nets overboard and expecting a catch is another. Doubt of our abilities, lack of self-assurance, stint our efforts. Maybe it’s the need to keep the faith to ourselves, or the fear that no one will hear us, or think we’re something we’re not, or just think we’re crazy. Sometimes, when we tell people we’re Christian, they take two steps backward and nod slowly. Or, it could be one simple thing - maybe we think we’re not up for the task or the challenge. We're flawed, intemperant at times, selfish, just not what what we think God wants in a servant, someone to proclaim the Good News.

Here’s where Isaiah and Simon are our instructors.

Isaiah assumed he would perish gazing on the Lord, and voiced a profound sense of his own unworthiness in the presence of the Lord, and as a sinner, he expected to die. Once he has the assurance of God’s grace, he jumps at the chance offered, answers the Lord’s call. “Here am I! Send me!” He is prepared to deliver a disturbing, dark message to the people of Israel - anything but Good News.

And then, there’s Simon.

Simon is a flawed hero – he is a failure more times than not. He tries, he swings and misses, he fails and tries again, and again. He doesn’t get it at first, and he bolts at the worst of times – but he comes back. He’s pretty brave. He doesn’t let his shortcomings block God’s work, or muddy the Good News with his own interpretation. Despite all these flaws, Jesus loves him so much that he entrusts the church to his care, changes his name from Simon to Cephas – the rock. The foundation.

Do you and I have that courage? Are we brave enough to try and fail repeatedly until we get it right? Remember how it felt to say, “Here I am, Lord!” when you heard the call? Remember the elation, and then the dread? Wondering if you could follow through?

Let’s think about the invitation Jesus extends.

For Peter, it was walking away from everything he knew and loved, and the certainty of death. For we Christians today, I believe it is laid out in the New Commandment, to love one another as Christ loves us, in his instruction to the disciples that whenever we act in compassion towards another, we do the same for Christ, and in the baptismal covenant, five questions after the affirmation of God and Christ: Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers? Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

To each of these questions we are compelled to respond, “Yes, with your help, Lord! Here I am! Send me!” Easy enough to say, but sometimes a bit difficult to live into – no? Yes? But we are up for the challenge and equal to the task. We are asked to do something revolutionary for today’s society. We are asked to put God before all else, we are asked to love, we are asked to reach outside our comfort zones and what is safe, to make a lifelong commitment to love and service. Christians of all denominations are truly blessed with a wealth of gifts that address each of the five questions in the Baptismal covenant. It is a living and continuing proof that each of us, with our unique gifts, and by the grace of God, continue to say “Send me!” when the call comes, and go willingly when Christ says, “Come, put down the nets.”

Giving Thanks for Mom - Don't Worry!

2009-11-28T18:19:00.000-08:00

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?”
If my mother had heard me proclaim these words of Christ, she wouldn’t have said anything, but her actions would have spoken volumes. She would have been quiet on the ride home and once back in the kitchen, she’d still not say a word – but bang the spoon on the pot, shut the oven door a bit too forcefully, and just stare me down – I’d get what my high school sweetheart called, “la musa dura;” the hard look, and eventually she’d say in her deep, low voice, “Yeah right, already. What do you mean, ‘Don’t worry?’”
This is a woman who worried all of her thirty-nine years for good reason. She worried about where the money was going to come from for clothes and food for six children, worried about paying the rent on time, worried about the utilities being paid up in full, worried where the next job was going to come from when she lost a job, worried about what would happen to us when she was gone.
Forty years after her death, and in this, the year, and on this, the day on which she would have turned eighty, I’m proud to stand before you, my sisters and my brothers, and tell you that Jeannette Ekstrom’s kids managed just fine using what she taught all of us, and we turned out okay.
But the worrying hasn’t gone away. We worry about the same things. Raise your hand if you haven’t lain awake nights worrying about the necessities of life.
It’s very hard in these tough economic times to hear these beautiful words of Jesus, “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’” Is he saying to us that we should just pull the covers over our heads at dawn’s first light and snuggle down for a few more hours of sleep, not bother to get up and go to work if we have jobs, not look for work if we don’t, and not worry about the past due notices piling up?
Here’s what I think – no.
Jesus asks us in this incredibly beautiful passage from the Sermon on the Mount that we should turn to God and to strive to enter the Kingdom first before we turn to the difficult task of daily life. Note the word, strive – work towards it, make it a goal. Make it a priority. What I am suggesting is make it the very first item on your to-do list, even before you turn on the coffee maker, or take up your place in the queue at the coffee shop. He knows that the task is daunting and road is rough. But once we surrender our hearts to God’s unconditional love, set our minds on what we are called to do in Christ’s name, then we have the means to provide for and help those who cannot provide for themselves, and to provide for ourselves. God comes before mammon.
This passage is very difficult, isn’t it? When one ponders and puts to prayer what we should do in light of these charges, it’s easy to come up feeling very insecure, very unsure. And yet, the good news is right before us. Our father in heaven will reward us if we turn to him. Our burdens are at sometimes extremely heavy, and we have moments where we can’t keep going, but who is behind us, beside us, above us, beneath us, all around us, to take those burdens from us?
Christ.
Mom, don’t worry. My friends, don’t worry!
Easy to say, but it’s true.
Christ, working in us makes all things possible, and even when we’ve hit rock bottom, he is there and consoles us when we come up short, encouraging us to dust ourselves off and get back on the road. Christ is our thanksgiving.
This afternoon, or evening, when we join our families and friends at our Thanksgiving tables, when you and I gather in Hodgkin Hall, we will literally break bread, and we will feast on love and give thanks. And not just on this holiday, but every day, when we gather together. The fellowship of this table brings Christ into those circles of friends and loved ones and the redemptive love He brings feeds us, loves us and supports us and we are thankful for it.
As has been my custom, on this day of feasting, I’ll offer a prayer called “Brigid’s Feast”:

I should like a great lake of finest ale for the King of Kings;
I should like a table of the choicest food for the family of heaven.
Let the ale be made from the fruits of faith,
And the food be forgiving love.
I should welcome the poor to my feast, for they are God’s Children.
I should welcome the sick to my feast, for they are God’s joy.
Let the poor sit with Jesus at the highest place,
And the sick dance with the angels.
God bless the poor, God bless the sick,
And bless our human race.
God bless our food, God bless our drink,
All homes, O God, embrace.
Amen.

Wonder, Love and Praise

2009-10-11T21:11:00.000-07:00

Once again, we are shown how the Lord chooses the most unlikely of candidates to demonstrate the power of God’s love working in life and praise to the Lord. We have the examples of Ruth and a Samaritan Leper.
Both are on the edge of societal norms. Ruth is a widow and a foreigners in a foreign land. The Leper is considered unclean, under judgment by God and a Samaritan. Despite these societal restrictions, they show us faithful living. They are models of faith and love. Ruth’s words to Naomi proclaim her love and loyalty, not only to her mother-in-law, but to God: “Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.”
In the Gospel lesson, that love and faith is demonstrated through the actions of an outcast. He is one of ten lepers who call out to Jesus as he travels between Samaria and Galilee. As we’ve heard, Jesus sees them.
Jesus sees them.
Lepers were those with skin diseases, usually, and they were thought to be contagious, they were shunned and for all intents and purposes, invisible.
But Jesus sees them.
Imagine that those with him are averting their eyes, walking a little faster to get away, pretending not to notice, or fearful of contagion. Jesus’ recognition of the lepers shows us his compassion for the suffering and marginalized people in the world. Here is God’s love in action.
Then, something unexpected happens. One of them saw that he was healed and, rather than go and show himself to the priests as Jesus directed, he turns around and praises God – again, imagine the scene. The praises to God are probably shouts and cries of joy and amazement. He goes back to Jesus and throws himself at his feet, giving thanks. As Ruth’s words proclaim love of God, so too, are the Leper’s. Ruth and the Leper are doing what the Lord requires of all God’s children – worshipping and loving God.
We know that Ruth’s life improved and she went on to marry Boaz and bore Obed, who was the father of Jesse, the father of David, and we trace that family line to Jesus. We don’t know what the Tenth Leper might have done. Perhaps he was reunited with his family, or started one, and continued to praise God and give thanks for all the blessings of his life, as I am sure Ruth and Naomi did. Perhaps he grew to old age and could tell his grandchildren about the teacher named Jesus who cured him, who was crucified as a criminal and yet rose on the third day.
What we can take from these two wonderful stories of love, faith and renewal is that God gives each one of us new lives and opportunities for praise. Each morning when we wake and thank God for yet another day to do His will, each time we receive the bread and wine, we receive a new life. How we praise God depends on our circumstances, and where we are in our lives. We may do as Jesus requires and keep his commandments – to love the Lord our God with all our hearts, souls and minds and that we love another as Christ loves us.
That is praise indeed.

Go in peace, dear ones,

Ellen+

Who's First?

2009-09-21T06:30:00.000-07:00

Wisdom is again our theme. The Hebrew scripture outlines the qualities of a wise woman. The psalm shows us the wisdom of choosing righteousness over wickedness and the letter of James, our epistolary reading, posits the argument for who is truly wise, and shows us that true wisdom is pure, peaceable, without partiality or hypocrisy – and then we have the Gospel, which illustrates what happens if we ignore wisdom and put our status in the world before the Word and what Christ calls us to do.
What is it about us that makes us want to be first?
Didn’t you want to be at the head of the line in Kindergarten? Called first for the softball team? Be the person the manager thinks of first to head up a new project? When I was a little girl, I wished my name was Abigail, or Anne, or Alice, so I could be at the head of the line, or the first person in the roll call. And I was always picked last for the softball game – the team captains would fight over who would have to take me. I’m sure you all have stories like that to share.
Being first, after all, is being noticed, gaining acceptance to whatever social circles we wish to belong, being important, the person everyone goes to, or thinks of. Being first is being successful.
No one likes to be last. The last are sometimes thought of as losers or the weakest. We all want to be number one, right?
The disciples were debating that very issue when Jesus asked what it was they argued about. They were shamed to silence, for despite the pressure to be alpha-whatever, they and we have been taught that that is immodest, pushy, or selfish to focus on getting ahead. Their silence is followed by a powerful statement:
“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all, and servant of all.”
Who would be the last of all in the first century? That would be children. A child, being powerless and defenseless, relies on others for care. Children have no power or standing until they are old enough to work in the fields or shop. Acceptance of a child, then, is accepting Christ, and ultimately God, who sent him.
Today, by and large, we treat our children with respect, and care for them as Jesus would have us do. But there are other children of God. The poor, and by that I mean the people in our society who have incomes below the so-called poverty line, or no income at all, whether they are working or not, whether they have a place to live, or not. They are powerless and defenseless, and they must rely on others for care. They have no power or standing. Acceptance of someone who is without a voice, without standing, without power is once again accepting Jesus and the One who sent him.
Now, is Jesus telling us that to be first, to be a leader and to have authority is wrong? I don’t believe he is – but I do believe he is telling us to get our priorities straight. Putting the interests of others before our own. That is how one becomes a true leader. He is speaking to the body of Christ then and now – do you want to be great? Alrighty then! This is what you must do!
Every day we have opportunities to get at the back of the line, as it were, to be wise and act on Jesus’ advice to be last of all and servant of all. What might they be? Volunteer time to read to at-risk children, serve up a tasty meal for the hungry, the list is endless and if you put it to prayer and look around, you might find something suited to your gifts and time. It could be as simple as signing a petition to increase funding for after-school programs, or signing a letter to a legislator to encourage support of economic reforms that will find the money to feed the hungry, improve local economies, both here and abroad.
I’ll ask you what the disciples asked one another: who is truly the greatest? Obviously, the Lord - and Jesus, of course. But among us, who is truly the greatest? In the Kingdom of Heaven, our human idea of worth, of merit, is given a three-hundred and sixty degree spin. The greatest is the one who follows the example of Jesus and puts aside worldly concerns to become the servant of all – as vulnerable and as a little child or the poorest of the poor, and open to the transformative love and acceptance that is Jesus, our Lord.

Coming in from the Desert

2009-09-06T17:07:00.000-07:00

Sabbatical ended and I returned to St. Mark's. I didn't wander far during the 4.5 months I was gone - that was impossible, having been laid off work right as sabbatical started. I spent time resting and praying - and looking for work.

So what did revelations came to me?

To be receptive, open. Just as the theme in this morning's gospel was "Be open." Jesus heals the sick daughter of a gentile woman, a Syrophoenician, and heals a deaf mute. "Be open," he says to the man.

To us, he says, be open - with the heart and mind. Take chances, just as the woman did. She was a stranger in the community but her faith made her go to Jesus. She knew that he could heal her daughter if he wanted to, because she believed that to be so.

Openess begins with ignoring petty differences and jealousies, childish behavior. I write that because I witnessed and experienced this today. And I let go of it, and let it go - said a prayer instead.

Openess is being willing to love unconditionally and believing wholeheartedly.

How will you be open this week?

Mobilizing

2009-04-27T18:57:00.000-07:00

Today was the second hottest day of the year in the capitol, and it was definitely hot at the convention center when the Sojourners met with White House personnel and listened to what the Obama Administration wants to do to eradicate poverty in America, heard from President Obama and Jeffrey Sachs via video appearances and then gathered in state groups for our trip to Capitol Hill tomorrow, planning our strategies for discussing three important issues with legislators: health care reform, domestic poverty and fully fund the president's foreign affairs budget request.

We learned that a budget isn't just an Excel spreadsheet of numbers and bottom lines, but a moral contract that outline our nation's values and priorities.

How is it that the most powerful nation in the world, and the wealthiest cannot take care of its poor and defenseless? Can bail out banks and insurance companies, but cannot offer its citizens medical insurance so that people needn't go bankrupt trying to pay the cost of medical bills if they lose their insurance?

Rep. Lewis told us yesterday that Christians have an obligation to get in the way of injustice. Today one speaker said it in plain English - he said he was sick of "dumb, stupid, poverty" and wanted to do something.

Tomorrow I'm sure he'll be on the Hill with us.

I don't have a large bank account that I can use to contribute to food banks and shelters, but I have a gift that we all have - the gift of having a voice that I can use to speak with those in positions to make laws and change laws, to ask them to consider the needs of the poor and struggling middle class when allocating money and programs.

The President addressed the conference via video feed, encouraging us to speak out and fight for those without voices. Mr. Obama was proud that our government takes the problems of the poor seriously and want seriously to turn things around, e.g. the Half-in-Ten resolution put forth by Rep. Barbara Lee (D-Cal.Dist.9): that the United States should set a national goal of cutting poverty in half over the next 10 years.

Impossible? Idealistic?

Perhaps.

But remember what thirteen colonies of Great Britain did over two hundred years ago?

Remember what a rabbi from Nazareth started up with 12 of his friends?

Go in peace, dear ones.

Ellen+

Excuse me, but get in my way . . .

2009-04-26T20:35:00.001-07:00

So it's at least 75-80 degrees still in Washington DC and it's 6:30 p.m. There really isn't an inch of seating left in Shiloh Baptist Church at 9th and P Streets - the place to be. Tonight is the opening of the Mobilization to End Poverty Conference and I've never been in a room so charged with energy and the holy spirit. I thought the place was going to explode when Rev. Ferguson stood up and witnessed his life of struggle and redemption. If there is any proof that a loving God exists and works through us, it is in Rev. Ferguson, who as a young man was incarcerated but turned his life around thanks to the Holy Spirit. And then Rep. John Lewis preached eloquently and passionately. We've got to find a way to get in the way. It's time for us to do something about ending poverty.

Another comment heard tonight from another speaker was that God is not outside Hell pulling people in, but standing outside pulling people out. Rep. Lewis asked why the government could bail out Wall Street but not Main Street.

So many people in that warm, crowded church, but so much powerful faith, too. This is the faith that truly can move mountains and bring positive, equitable change.

It used to be that we were safer staying out of the way of challenges, adversity, discord - now it's in our best interest to get in the way of those who will not live out the Gospel and help their fellow brothers and sisters build new and better lives for themselves and their families, for all us for that matter.

Go in peace.

The Deacon Has Landed

2009-04-24T20:45:00.001-07:00

Okay, yes I WAS scared to death and almost in tears getting on that plane this morning, but here I am in Washington DC at my friend Rebecca's lovely brownstone, in an attic bedroom with a friendly tabby named Gabriel - Julian, you have competition for my heart!

The flight gave me an opportunity for evangelism. When people chatted about their destinations and I mentioned the conference, heads nodded and a few said, "Wow!" Comments like "If they (the government) can bail out the banks, auto companies, what about helping people feed their kids, pay the rent?" went around.

It's a larger than life issue and the answers won't come easy, but that's why we're meeting - to find scripture-based answers to the problem.

I'm still on California time, though it's 11:49 p.m. here, and that would be way past my bed time. But I can't sleep for the excitement of being in Washington DC for the first time - I saw the Capitol lit up as we drove into the city and I got chills. If anything good can come out of Washington DC it will be people getting together and working for a solution that will benefit everyone. Isn't that a great way of living out the Gospel?

Back to the flight - I sat by a window - the best way to get over fear is to confront it - and stared down at the landscape when it wasn't covered by clouds and fog. It was one incredible way to admire God's creation. I can't tell you how excited I was to see the great Mississippi River snaking through states. The man sitting next to me teased and said I needed to get out more often. That's as may be, but it really showed me what a small place I take up in Creation, and even though I am not as grand as a mighty river, or as majestic as the mountains and canyons I saw from the plane, I have a place and I have work to do. We all do.

Go in peace,

Ellen+

Ending Poverty - One Step at a Time

2009-04-24T07:11:00.000-07:00

In three hours I'll be leaving Oakland Airport for Washington, DC. I haven't flown in 18 years and I've never been a fan of the mode of transportation, but I felt this conference, The Mobilization to End Poverty, was important enough to suck up the fear and loathing and just go - just go and join my diocesan colleagues and sisters, Shari, Linda and Salying, and thousands of other people of like mind to get together and figure out how we can end this epidemic of poverty in this, the most wealthy nation, and throughout the world. Day One is Sunday evening. Before the conference, I'll sightseeing and serving at St. Paul's Rock Creek - including a visit to their historic cemetery - on Sunday morning.

So pray with and for me on this trip, and when I get back, we can work together to turn things around. We already said, "Yes we can," now we have to show that words have action behind them.

Go in peace, dear ones!

Ellen+

Believe!

2009-04-19T04:00:00.000-07:00

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

If you responded with the words, "The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!" I bet you wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t believe. Brothers and sisters, you do believe Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, right?

Okay, so where do we go from here?

A week has passed, but the excitement, the joy remains. You want to flip that page in the Gospel of John and find out what those other signs were that Jesus did. You want the story to continue, and it does, in the Book of Acts, the epistles and in the lives of everyone who has heard the Good News and proclaimed it. The greatest story ever told has an epilogue, and we are it.

How is this possible, when you and I weren’t there when the stone was rolled back and Jesus walked out of the tomb?

It’s possible because Jesus said so.

“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Certainly good news for us, a slap on the wrist, perhaps for Thomas.

Thomas is one of those less-than-perfect disciples that one can find kinship with, for how many can truly say they’ve never questioned anything we’ve been told or seen, especially when the hour and the day are dark and feel without promise?

Those moments come, and then God puts into play or reveals something that turns one from being faithless to faithful, like the Resurrection. It happened to a group of scared, determined and faithful followers who kept the momentum going, from that morning to this.

I don’t buy into the dictum that you’ve got to see it, to believe it. We can't see the air, but it is all around us. We see its action - in the movement of Creation when the wind blows, we feel it on our skin. It is there.

God is there. God came to us in the form and blessing of Jesus. So many prophets came before Jesus claiming to be the Christ, the redeemer and savior. They slipped away into obscurity, some suffered ignominious deaths. What made Jesus so different?

He was who he said he was. He did what he said he was going to do. The resurrection of Christ gave new life to the followers of the Jesus movement. What was promised by Jesus in his teaching, was and is being lived out. The apostles, the first followers of Jesus, proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom - what Jesus promised in his teachings and ministry was made true. The followers of Jesus live out the new commandment - that followers love one another as Jesus loved them, and in attending to the needs of one another, what Jesus commanded was made tangible and real.

The apostles became the leaders of the movement and strived to live as they were taught, showing that “The Kingdom of Heaven is like a great family of different people, living together, loving one another and all living in equality.” What Jesus demonstrated in his ministry was kept alive by the faith, belief and right action of the Apostles.

And this is where we come in.

We are now the disciples, called to keep the Good News in play, to keep the Word in our hearts and minds, and to keep it alive. How you and I do this depends on the gifts God has given each one of us, and how the Spirit moves within us.

I’m pretty certain we’re always looking for new ways to proclaim the Gospel - some have been quite successful haven’t they? And some, abysmal failures. What keeps us going is belief. If Jesus can die for our sins, we can return the favor by keeping at it, trying harder. I believe he is with us every step of the way - sometimes we have to open our hearts and minds a bit wider to see him, get past our own wounds so that we can see his. No, we haven’t seen the five wounds of Christ except in artwork and in scripture, but we know they are real. I believe that every time we say ‘peace be with you,’ Christ says it to us.

It’s time for us to write the next chapter of the greatest story ever told. I intend to put my mark on the page this week when I begin my sabbatical and travel to Washington for the interfaith conference hosted by Sojourners - the Mobilization to End Poverty. I’ll gather with three of my diocesan colleagues in ministry and others of like mind to find ways of ending the epidemic of poverty in America. When I return from Washington, I’ll spend some time with the information and tools I receive so that when I return from my sabbatical in September, I can offer new resources and ways that my congregation lives out the new commandment and follows Christ’s dictum that when we feed and clothe and attend to the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, we do the same for Him.

What will you write on the page?

The Stuff of Life

2009-03-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

What will it profit us to gain the whole world and forfeit our lives? What can we give in return for life? These are questions appropriate for this contemplative and penitential season of Lent, but truly, questions important to consider every single day of the year.

In speaking to his disciples, Jesus warns against putting earthly concerns and goods over the promise of eternal life. To these followers of Jesus, earthly concerns and goods meant home and family, financial security, perhaps standing in the community, and a peaceful life. And to us, his message is no different, even with the passage of a millennium. The everyday concerns have changed, but the goals we put before us are pretty much the same.

Might the ‘whole world’ be the ‘stuff’ in our lives? We all have it. Sometimes, it replaces or masks what’s important or crucial, or we’ve bought in to the idea that it’s what we need to be successful or happy because for so many generations the “American Dream” was to be acquisitive, have the best and the biggest and in all four different colors; sometimes, we let it get out of control.

When it gets out of control, the downward spiral begins, doesn’t it? And what better time than this to rid ourselves of that which we do not need, whether it be material, physical goods, or clutter in the mind and soul. It’s time given over to reflection and prayer, when we decide, with Christ’s help, what is truly important in our lives. Once we take that first, very painful step, the rest falls into place. Get rid of the clutter in life and you just may have a sense of order and enough room for prayer and a life that can be enriched by a deeper commitment and relationship with God and one another. And who knows? Perhaps you will discover all that all the stuff, that clutter, is a barrier. It’s a wall built up to hide behind, to keep us from being what God through Christ has called us to be.

We know that being Christian isn’t always warm and cuddly. Jesus tells us exactly what he expects of us. He says that if anyone wants to follow him, they will have to expect hardship, difficult choices, and, in the disciples’ time, perhaps death. To be a disciple is to act and live selflessly, to be willing to give up as well as give. Jesus calls us to an abundant life through love and belief, not of an abundance of earthly goods that pile up and clutter, get in the way of action that proclaims the Gospel.

What can we give in return for life? Our hearts, our minds, ourselves, freely - as freely and unconditionally as we are loved by God. Give them over into the loving care of Christ Jesus. But first, we need to get rid of the clutter so that we are receptive to the Word. Then we will be ready to shoulder the cross, and go and undertake work that make our community and world a better place that models the Kingdom of Heaven and not shame us before Jesus; work that shows that we are not ashamed of him.

I’ll leave it to you to discern what it is that Christ calls you to do. I dare you to look about and see, really see, what part of the ‘whole world’ is cluttering up your life.

I can guarantee it isn’t Jesus.

The Call to the Vineyard, Bucking Authority

2008-10-01T12:29:00.000-07:00

Did you catch the themes of last Sunday's lessons? When the Gospel was proclaimed, did they click? Authority and belief jump right out at you, but I would like to save authority for another time and focus on belief, as belief is why we’re all here today, isn’t it? Still, that question of authority tempts because I believe we all buck it at one time or another, or wish we had more of it . . . just look what happened to the priests and elders when they approached Jesus about it.
I would have loved to be a butterfly on the walls of the Temple that day. It must have been a bit too much to swallow for these people in authority. In their structured, neat, and privileged world, one doesn’t buck the system, so they have questions for him, and they have a right to ask as those who uphold tradition and the law – but in this instance, the chief priests and elders aren’t really interested in a theological debate; they want Jesus to say that it’s God who gives him such power so they can bring him up on charges of blasphemy.
Jesus enters the Temple in Jerusalem and creates quite a scene. He disrupts the local economy by knocking over the money changers’ tables and driving out the merchants and their livestock. He heals people and children squeal and shout his praises and clamor at him.
“By what authority are you doing these things,” they ask; “and who gave you this authority?”
Jesus in true rabbinic tradition responds to their query with a question.
“Did the baptism of John come from heaven or was it of human origin?”
Looks like the ball rolled into the priests and elders’ court and they’ve got a problem. If they say John’s authority to baptize came from heaven, they’re at odds with Rome, with whom they cooperate, and if they say human, the crowds following Jesus and present during this exchange would probably riot, for John was revered as a prophet. So they take the middle ground, the safest route, and admit that they don’t know. They’re in a can’t-win situation. Jesus has the last word, of course, and ends this line of questioning by saying he’s not going to divulge the source of his authority. Then he pushes them a bit further, continues, telling a parable of two sons.
“What do you think?” Jesus asks. A man asks two sons to work in his vineyard. The first son says, no, but changes his mind and goes out to work. The second son says, yes, and doesn’t bother following through.
So which of these sons, Jesus asks, did his father’s bidding?
The priests and elders reveal their hypocrisy by saying it’s the first son. In so few words, they admit John’s authority came from God, for the first son can be compared to the tax collectors and prostitutes, the outcasts of a first century society that took honor and shame very seriously. They represented a less than holy way of life, but eventually they responded to and accepted John’s message to repent. These so-called sinners will be welcomed in the Kingdom of Heaven because they responded in belief to the messengers sent by God. On the other hand, the priests and elders were like the second son -- people who profess to be righteous, but rejected John and all that he taught, even after they witnessed changed lives they still refused to believe; they continued with business as usual, saying “yes” to God, but never following through.
The message we can take from this scripture goes something like this -- what matters most is what we actually do when God calls. Acknowledging what is correct, but not taking action, is a barrier to a true and heartfelt response to God.
It is through God that John and Jesus received their gifts of ministry, their exceptional powers and abilities to completely understand what it was that God required of them and accept what was asked.
All that we do and say in living out the Gospel and proclaiming it are gifts from God. We don’t have the particular gifts given to Jesus, but he gives us something wonderful – salvation and eternal life.
But is it really that simple, to say “Yes!” to whatever God asks and assume that’s good enough for now?
No, not really.
Do you find yourself at times eagerly promising God that you’ll go into the vineyard, and then getting distracted by just one more thing that has to be wrapped up before -- ? I plead guilty on this count, as I’m sure some of you will. Do you find yourself thinking that just because you’re Christian you’ve got it all locked up and you’ve got a reservation for one of the bigger rooms in the house in the Kingdom of Heaven? Again, I’m guilty as charged.
I’m like both of the sons. Are you?
The good news is the Good News. We might rush to give God the right answer and hope that that will suffice for the time being, but Jesus is with us to show us how to love perfectly and act accordingly. We are invited to allow Jesus’ love and guidance, and our action to transform us into what God wants us to be.
Every day is another chance to get it right with God, that when we’re asked to work in the vineyard, we should go and do just that.
Easy enough, right?
Not right.
If we are to do the will of God and give an authentic response, we need to embrace a life that reflects His love and the wonder of all creation.
The tax collectors and prostitutes responded and now it’s our turn.
The news throughout the world hasn’t been comforting or encouraging these past few weeks and now more than ever, we have an opportunity to proclaim the Gospel, using words, as Saint Francis once said, if necessary. If our words are true and bold, and actions follow that improve by one kindness someone’s life, and if our words are not lip service, or something convenient to satisfy the listener, then we honor Christ and model his holy work.
Come with me, friends. There’s work to do in the vineyard.
Are you ready?

Like a Rock

2008-08-26T12:15:00.001-07:00

The Kingdom of Heaven is like the foundation of a great building – there are many stones, side by side, that hold it all together, and the building, in spite of many assaults, many earthquakes, many storms, remains standing because of the foundation. A foundation built on faith.
The first of those stones was Jesus and the next was Peter.
Of all the disciples, Peter is, perhaps the one that each of us can find something in which to identify. He’s less than perfect, he struggles to understand Jesus, has great ‘aha!’ moments where he finally gets it; he has moments of weakness and stupidity, he’s not afraid to speak up – remember when he sniped at Jesus, “Look, we’ve given up everything to follow you!” - and yet, when the final accounting is made, he is strong and sure, his love is evident. He’s a corner stone.
As Christians, we can add ourselves to this foundation – and why not? Don’t we possess similar qualities and strengths, weaknesses, as Peter? Who among us, if Jesus showed up at six o’clock some Tuesday night and asked, ‘But who do you say I am?’ would not echo Peter’s response, his confession of faith?
What makes us Christians? Our belief that Jesus is the Messiah. Our faith.
This morning’s Gospel is called “Peter’s Confession of Faith,” and it follows the miracles of the loaves and fishes, and Jesus’ walk on the Sea of Galilee. The author of Matthew tells us that after the walk, the disciples worshipped Jesus and proclaimed him Son of God. Simon Peter takes it up a notch. He says that Jesus is indeed the Messiah. This is the first time that a disciple has used this title. This confession leads to a blessing, a charge, and a new identity.
It begins when Peter becomes the first person to make what the first Christian Confession of Faith. Something new is happening, something new is being built—a foundation of love that will become the body of Christ, the church, by the will of God, and by the power of God, led first by Christ, and then his apostles, and now us.
Jesus gives Peter something more than new responsibility. A new name. To give a name is to bestow an identity. A name tells people who and what you are, your ancestry. To change a person’s name, as God changed Abram’s name to Abraham, and Jacob’s name to Israel, and now Simon Peter, was to alter that person’s identity, relationships, and mission.
Simon bar Jonah becomes Cephas, or Petros – the rock. Upon this rock Jesus gives responsibility and mission – to lead the disciples after his death and resurrection. He has a new purpose, a new identity.
Scripture refers to God as a rock (Genesis 49:24; Deuteronomy 32; 1 Samuel 2:2; 22; Psalm 18, 28, 31, 42, 62, 71, 78, 89, 92, etc.) Isaiah also refers to Abraham and Sarah as a rock: "Look to the Rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug. Look to Abraham your father, and to Sarah who bore you" (Isaiah 51:1-2). Given these associations, Jesus does great honor to Peter when he calls him the rock. I’ll throw this into the mix to get you thinking: is the “rock” actually the faith that Peter exhibits when he makes this confession, or Peter? Or both?
We become stones in the foundation all in time and it comes when we are baptized, and when we pronounce the Creed. If you look at the Baptismal Covenant on pages 304 and 305 of the Prayer Book, you will see that the charges made to those being baptized are exhortations to obey, serve and lead in Christ’s name and with God’s help. Similar, perhaps, to the charges Jesus gave Peter. When we answer, “I will” to the questions presented to us, and act upon them, building blocks are added to that set down by Jesus, Peter, the apostles, of all the faithful, and it makes the church stronger. As Paul states in his letter to the Romans, each of us has a gift that differs according to the grace bestowed on us – ministry, teaching, giving, loving, to name a few – and they are the stones, too, that build the body of Christ.
Like Peter, we are rock solid, and there are times when we are stumbling blocks; but the building remains intact. With the strength of our faith, our love of God in Christ, the walls are solid, stable; the church still stands and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.

Go in peace and keep building the church,

Ellen+

So Much More than Loaves and Fishes

2008-08-04T08:07:00.001-07:00

Do you remember the folk tale, Stone Soup? A stranger enters a village in the dead of winter with a pot slung over his back; he sets up a fire in the market square and drops a pebble into the pot, adds water, and . . . . nothing! An old woman watches him from her window, as do most of the villagers, I guess, and while he stirs the water, he wishes that he had a turnip to improve the flavor of the broth. The old woman she thinks she has a turnip past its expiration date somewhere in the vegetable bin, and there it is. She tosses it in the pot. He thanks her, adding that the perfect thing to compliment a stone and turnip would be a carrot, a few more vegetables. Miraculously, the old woman just happens to have a soft onion somewhere – the skin needed to be peeled back and the bad parts cut off, but it would do, wouldn’t it? And the carrots – well, her old pony won’t mind giving them up, there’d be more tomorrow. The onion is joined by a bit of meat, a potato, some chicken bones for flavor – the ones you save to make stock with. Neighbors come by when the good smell of broth simmering drifts through the village; they dig around in their kitchens and drop something they just happen to find in a cupboard or in a bag or barrel, until everyone gathers around to enjoy a wonderful, hearty, meal – all from a pebble and some water.
Somewhere in the story, did you hear Jesus whispering, “You give them something to eat?”
I used this folk tale because the characters and the plot reminded me of the Gospel this morning – it’s an example of how God works by faith and action. The Gospel acts out the parables in Chapter 13 – the loaves and fishes are like a mustard seed – a little goes a long way; they’re like leaven hidden in the loaf; the Disciples fail to recognize the food hiding almost secretly in the midst of the crowd.
The stranger gets people to act by invitation and necessity; Jesus acts out of compassion and asks the Disciples to do the same. The crowds need not go away, the Disciples have food; they will give the crowds their supper. When they opened up their lunch boxes and found five loaves of bread and two fish. They’d need more than that to feed over five thousand people. Maybe they scratched their heads and looked at each other – you know, that look when everyone but the person asking the question thinks he or she is right. One can only imagine what Peter was thinking – or saying. But let’s give a back story to this scripture. This event follows the death of John the Baptist at Herod’s birthday feast – a bit different than the feast described here in Chapter 14. Jesus has spent the day preaching – perhaps one of the longest sermons ever offered, and, he’s been healing all those people. When he learns of John the Baptist’s death, he goes off by himself – and the crowds follow; they just won’t go home. Matthew’s text doesn’t state that the crowd was hungry and wanted something to eat, but it does say that the disciples wanted the people to go away and find their supper elsewhere. Here we have one of those moments when being disciples of Christ, of being members of the Body, seems utterly impossible or hopeless, and we look to the pragmatic, the logical, what’s in front of our noses for answers.
So Jesus tells the disciples not only what they do not want to hear, but what they cannot fathom: “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” Rather than argue the point further, the disciples give Jesus the loaves and fishes. Jesus looked to heaven and took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, who in turn gave the bread to the crowds. There was plenty to eat, everyone was fed, and there were leftovers.
This miraculous feeding is repeated in all of the gospels and that very fact is evidence of the importance of this story to the early Christians as it should be to Christians now: it is the foretaste of the Last Supper and gives us elements of the Eucharist in the orderly arrangement of people, the prayer of blessing, the act of breaking bread and the distribution of the bread to all assembled. It is a call to community. The Table has become more than just an outward and visible sign of Christ’s compassion. Fed at this Table, we the faithful work and serve in a world where sharing our resources, our ministries is one way to express our willingness to believe, to take chances against the norm and live and proclaim the Gospel.
What we should note here is not only the miraculous feeding of the five thousand, but the call to action and mission.
Jesus sent The Twelve out with authority to teach, preach, heal, and we see it at work as they distribute the bread and the fish. They are models for us as they follow the instructions Jesus gives – no matter how impossible it may seem. Perhaps the miracle is that when we trust in the love of God through Christ, completely give ourselves over to that love, we can make things that seem impossible very real in our lives and the lives of those we touch.
A stranger comes to town and invites the people to share a soup they make together – from very little comes an abundance of food and love. The disciples’ five loaves and two fish seem to be lacking in quantity, yet over five thousand people had their fill. No one was turned away. There is enough of God’s love to go around.
And now, my friends, come to this table, and you will have something to eat. It is only a little bit of bread and wine, but it is so much more.

Growth from God ... and Tiny Seeds

2008-07-19T14:12:00.000-07:00

Creation is a glorious mystery. I live in an area of California where there are redwoods and eucalyptus. I love the smell of eucalyptus, the seeds that look like tea cups. Redwoods are just amazing -- is there any plant as tall and majestic? 25 years ago, when my daughter Celia was born, we planted a redwood out in front of her grandmother's house where a dying tree once stood. Today, that tree soars over the tiny white cottage on the hill and the plush neighborhood where it stands. What is amazing is that it came from a seed I can hold in the palm of my hand.

Life comes from a spark of almost nothing and becomes something extraordinary.

Where the seeds are planted and nurtured make a big difference.

The Gospel for Sunday, July, 13, is the first of three lections from Matthew 13 consisting of parables, the the third major body of Jesus' teachings found in this Gospel, the first being the Sermon on the Mount and the other, the Mission Charge.

Okay, so what's a parable?

It's a tool for teaching that Jesus used - they are powerful, because what stays in the memory better than a good story?

But these are stories that allow the listener to teach themselves. Jesus' parables are disorienting; they turn society as we know it on it's head, takes us out of the predictable and comfortable and challenges us to look deeper, closer.

The "Parable of the Sower" tells us of seeds that are planted in different ground - the seeds are tossed; some seeds fell on pavement; some seeds fell in rocky ground; more seed fell into bracken, thorns and weeds, and finally, seeds fell into good soil.

What happens to the seeds, the seed that fell on pavement, or path? They were eaten by the birds immediately, And the seeds that fell on rocky ground? Well, they sprang up but there was no depth for their roots and they withered and died, How about the seeds that fell into the thorns? Choked. Finally, the seeds that fell into good soil? Can you guess? They produce grain in hundredfolds, and them some!

So which seed are you?

That's the point of this parable. Our ears hear an allegory - the seed is Logos, the word of God through Christ. The seeds represent we children of God and how we respond to the teaching of Jesus.

Let's see if I can get this right:

The seed on the path is the person who doesn't want to hear; the seed on rocky ground is the person who wants to get it, tries hard at it, then gives up for whatever reason. It's just too hard. The seed in the thorns might be someone in the wrong crowd, who cannot hear, tries, but is suffocated by their own worries and life; and the seed in the good soil - that's not hard to figure out. That's someone who hears and takes it to heart; let's the word of the Lord and the invitation of Christ to be nurtured and it grows so that the word is spread to everyone that good seed knows and sees, and it continues to reap a good harvest.

Jesus told these stories to get people to think harder about their lives, their relationships with God and people, to look at the Kingdom of Heaven through a different lens, take an understanding of it as a way of being and acting, other than a physical place.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like . . .

well, what do you think it is like?

How will you sow the Word of God so that it may reap in a hundredfold, twenty, thirty, believers ready to make the Kingdom of Heaven a place for all to come and sit down at the table?

Go in peace!

Ellen+

Yokes That Are Tailored to Fit

2008-07-09T19:27:00.000-07:00

I've been off the radar for the last couple of weeks due to a nasty infection - oral surgery is not one of my favorite pastimes. During an uncomfortable time, Jesus' words offered a lot of comfort. When I don't have the strength, or am in pain, there's someone to lean on.

This last Sunday's gospel from Matthew 11:16-18, 28-30 is one of those passages in the Christian scripture that despite Jesus' denunciation of Bethsaida, Chorazin and Capernum, he invites us to come to him that our burdens may be lifted from our shoulders, and how beautiful the invitation is:

"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble
in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

(Matthew 11:28-30).

Such a deal, one might think! I can just let Jesus take care of everything.

It's this deacon's opinion that nah, don't think so.

Jesus offers a shoulder to lean on, but I think he would expect that in dark times, in times of uncertainty, frustration, fear and pain, we turn to Him for guidance, to learn from His example. And while we're being offered support, maybe that will give us time to put matters to prayer and have the strength to act on whatever we're being called to do in Christ's name. From Jesus of Nazareth we can model His new command-ment - love one another as Christ loves us.

I often quote this and mention it in conversation and sermons and in my writing, but it bears repeating, that and his paraphrasing of Deuteronomy 10:12-15 at Mark 12:29-30 and Matthew 22:34-40:

"The most important one," {commandment} answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind and with all your strength. ' The second is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than this."

(Mark 12:29-30)

Loving your neighbor, whether a friend, a stranger, or a co-worker with which you barely share three words in one day, is difficult. Love comes more easily if we let our egos and human frailty, our tendencies to want to be first, and our search for perfection in beauty and mind, to be the center of the universe. And that's where Jesus' yoke comes into play. Yokes are those harnesses that go over the shoulders of an ox or horse to keep them attached to a wagon, cart, or plow. It's used to help bear heavy loads. Made of hardwood, they're pretty heavy - but not as heavy as the cross-beam Jesus carried on humanity�s behalf in his exhausted state to Golgotha. Once we get out of the blinding sun of our own wants and needs, and step into the shadow Jesus we are able to take up the yoke � one made with Jesus' support and the strength of love and faith, of submitting our hearts, souls and minds to the ever-present, ever powerful, unconditional love of God and loving Christ as we love the Father.

Go in peace, dear ones!

With God's love and mine, Ellen+

Comfort Food - for Thought

2008-06-29T14:25:00.000-07:00

“Hear what comfortable words our Saviour Christ saith unto all who truly turn to him.”
Do you find anything comforting or comfortable in the Gospel lesson this morning? Jesus is asking us to go beyond our safe, comfortable circle of friends and reach out to strangers. Didn’t Mom tell us not to talk to strangers? How about the Hebrew scripture? Pretty disturbing. And the passage from Paul’s letter to the church at Rome? The word ‘sin’ is mentioned ten times, that’s once in ten verses out of twelve, though one of the verses mentions ‘impurity’, and another mentions ‘shame.’
Sometimes we have to read and hear the uncomfortable words to hear what God and Christ say to all who truly turn to them.
Let’s see if we can find the good news among the bad.
How do we reconcile the loving God of the Christian scripture, the deity in the person of Jesus who bids us welcome prophets and little ones, people on the fringes of society, with a God that tells a father to kill his son? Let me answer that by asking this: do you really think God wanted Abraham to sacrifice Isaac?
The story begins with the sentence, “After these things, God tested Abraham.” These things were God’s calling of Abraham, his journey with Sarah into Egypt, passing his wife off as his sister to the Pharoah, and there was Sodom and Gomorrah, Hagar and Ishmael – how many tests can a person take? Abraham is rightly held up as a person of great faith, but he has his moments of weakness, and he has his shortcomings – passing his wife off as his sister? Twice? He’s an enigma. He pleads with God over sparing, fifty, then forty, then twenty, then ten righteous people in Sodom and Gomorrah, many perfect strangers, but he says nothing about sparing his son.
I was thinking that while God was testing Abraham, maybe Abraham was testing God. Or maybe it’s one of those moments when one is so frozen by fear, so horrified, that the shock leads to inactivity.
Our narrative is stark. We have no indication of Abraham’s state of mind. As soon as Abraham hears the command, he cuts the wood for the offering, takes his son, two servants and donkey and heads out for Moriah. He’s silent until they reach their destination three days later when he tells the servants to wait for them while Abraham and Isaac go up on the mountain to pray. Here, the narrator hints that Abraham prepared for the sacrifice methodically – first he builds the altar, then he lays the wood that Isaac has been carrying – maybe he stalling for time? Waiting for that call at 11:55 p.m. to stay the execution.
Then we have a heart-wrenching moment. Isaac notices that they haven’t brought a lamb for the sacrifice and asks his father about it. Abraham says, “God will provide.”
He raises the knife . . . it’s like watching a movie. You want to yell at the screen, “Turn around, Abraham! There’s a ram caught in the thicket! See? God does provide!”
This story has a happy ending. Abraham is stopped from murdering his son by an angel. Isaac grows up to become the father of a great people. This is the last test God gives Abraham.
Many questions are unanswered here. Did Abraham pass the test, or did he fail? Is his failure the reason why God no longer spoke to him, or had Abraham served his purpose? Did God want Abraham to stand up to Him with the same passion he used for Sodom and Gomorrah to ask why he was being asked to sacrifice his son?
I don’t have the answers; I have my own theories, as do we all, but I’ll let you decide in your own dialogues with God. It’s a copout, but I’m still wrestling with these questions and someday I might just have the answers – or not. I do know this. God only gives us as much as we can handle. He knows our hearts and minds and what we can or cannot do.
What we can surmise is that God surely understood Abraham’s feelings when He sacrificed his son, Jesus.
The truth of the matter is that we are all tested by God, aren’t we? Perhaps not in the dramatic ways that Abraham was put to the test. Why are there floods in the Midwest destroying lives and homes when God gave us the rainbow? Why does a complete stranger shoot and kill a family at an intersection? Why does a father kill his toddler on a road out in the country? Why do we still argue over gender? Why is race still such a hot button? Why is gas so expensive and why is there a global food crisis? These are tests of the heart, soul and mind. And in this morning’s Gospel, Jesus throws a challenge at us. He tells his disciples, and us, that whoever welcomes a prophet or little one welcomes him. We know from history and scripture that prophets are those noisy, confrontational types who tells us truths we don’t want to hear, and they don’t make the best of ends, but they open our hearts and minds to reality and how things are supposed to be. Think of John the Baptist, Stephen, Perpetua and her companions, Jesus, Martin Luther King, Jr. Little ones might be children or people outside of the norm of society, what we might call the ‘fringe element’ We are asked to welcome them, make them a part of our community, give to them as Jesus would give to us. It’s not hard to be welcoming. The effort comes in being welcoming those society thinks are not welcome to the table. Giving a cup of water to a little one, or a hot meal to someone who’s hungry, or listening, really listening to a message offered by a prophet – that’s easy enough. Doing it because we love God and we want to live out the Gospel – now that’s where it really is at. Righteous people aren’t holier than others, righteous people are you and me, in a covenant with God and Jesus, chosen, called, tested – sometimes we get it right, sometimes we don’t, but there’s always another chance to get it right – the right way that God wants us to take to the best of our abilities. Righteous people are people who say yes to God, even when it’s the most difficult thing they have to do in their lives.
And no matter what, God loves us and welcomes us into the Kingdom – prophets, little ones, the righteous, you and me.
I hope you find some comfort in that.

The Great Commission

2008-06-15T21:33:00.000-07:00

This morning the apostles, Peter to Judas, received their marching orders. In the scripture passage from Matthew, Jesus takes the twelve aside and gives them specific instructions for their ministry out in the world. They are to proclaim the good news and perform works of God for the lost sheep of Israel - this is in line with his comments to the Pharisees earlier, when they asked why he dined with people on the edges of society, that the healthy have no need of healing, but the sick.

Imagine a conversation on a road somewhere in Judea. Suppose you're a tax collector, a leper, a woman, a woman of ill repute, a slave and you're sitting outside the town walls hoping for a crust of bread, a kind word, maybe even a coin - even the Emperor's coin. How strange would it be for you to be approached by a stranger who calls you friend and offers you food and drink, starts to tell you about the Kingdom of Heaven? Come to think of it, what if you were the stranger and charged with starting that dialogue?

This is unlike anything you've done or witnessed before. There's something new, something revolutionary here.

Imagine the emotions roiling through you.

How would you respond to such a conversation?

How would you begin such a conversation?

I don't know about you, but I'd start by saying, "Hello." It's usually the safest way to begin, isn't it?

The conversation could start with the weather, how someone is doing, and eventually it comes round to this different and bold vision of how the world should be, the vision of Jesus of Nazareth. Maybe after a few moments of conversation, if you're the person outside the walls, you start to think, perhaps get excited about what you're hearing and ask to hear more. Or, if you're the apostle sent on a mission, you begin to relax and realize that evangelism doesn't have to be heavy-handed or frightening, or all or nothing, but a gradual, informal give and take of ideas. Soon it becomes natural.

I'm not suggesting that accepting the great commission to proclaim the Gospel and live it out is easy. On the contrary; I believe it's just as difficult now in our post-modern society as it was in the first century.

How do we impart a message of unconditional love and acceptance, of mutual respect for people and respect for all of creation?

Well, you're reading this, aren't you? That's one way.

Wake every morning and think of being generous with your heart and resources as you are able. These little seeds of optimism and love will take root, just as the twelve apostles' work took root and continues growing today.

Go in peace,

Ellen+

Wandering In From a Spiritual Desert

2008-06-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

I've been in a desert of sorts.
A few of my friends ask why I feel I'm having difficulty connecting with God; after all, who's my Daddy?
The last weeks have been painful - spiritually. I haven't felt God's presence, nor can I hear the Word.
Having one's hands annointed, being consecrated an ordained leader, wearing all the trappings on Sunday mornings and holidays doesn't guarantee instant spiritual connection or enlightenment.
What it does guarantee are moments of uncertainty, doubt, loneliness - just like everybody else.
I keep asking why? I keep asking where are you? When I meditate and use the image of the walk in the forest, there's a boulder in the path - like the giant stone rolled in front of the entrance of Jesus' tomb, or the giant marble that chased Indiana Jones in "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Let me give you a back story.
When I begin my contemplative prayer, I close my eyes and put myself on a path leading into a forest from a field of wheat. I walk through the forest on the path, heading toward a gate, beyond which is a clearing that leads down hill into a valley where there's a castle (well, there'd have to be a castle if it's my imagery, right?) and a village surrounded by hills and lush greenery. It's my goal to pass through the gate and go down to the castle.
I've only reached the gate once.
Lately, as I walk on this path in my mind and heart, the boulder is in the way. There's no way around it. The trees are too thick to walk around and the boulder is too heavy to move.
So I've been trying again and again to walk through this path.
A few minutes ago, while typing the foregoing, it hit me.
I'M THE BOULDER IN THE PATH.
I'm preventing my spiritual connection and journey.
I've let my unhappiness and loneliness build up a wall of sorts to God, when all I need to do is let God.
I need to let it be.

With God's love and mine,

Ellen+

Leaving the Upper Room

2008-05-12T05:58:00.000-07:00

In the beginning, God created humankind from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man and women became living beings. Then God blew a breath into Israel, and as Ezekiel tells us, their dead bones came to life. At Pentecost, the culmination of fifty great days, God's breath, a wind, breathes life into the new people of God – the church.

How, in this post-modern, secular world, does God breathe life into us so that we can proclaim the Gospel of Christ? How does the Holy Spirit light the fires in our hearts and minds?

We are Californians, Americans, citizens of other nations living, working and studying here, we are Native American, African, Asian, European, variations on these, and more. Each of us, in our own language, hears the Good News. And each of us, in our own manner, proclaims the Gospel, sometimes, as Brother Francis said once, actually using words – that is how it happened for the apostles in the upper room.

I can't imagine what it would have been like for the followers of Jesus in those first fifty days. They met in a place that was secure, familiar, where they broke bread with Jesus, and where he appeared to them, as in the Gospel of John, where he breathes on them and bestows the Holy Spirit, charging them to forgive sins, commissioning Peter to tend his flock, feed his sheep. This can't be done from the security of the upper room. It has to be done out in the world – a place where they were in danger by association.

Perhaps they doubted their abilities and Jesus wasn't there to lead them, to tell them when they didn't get it, or praise them when they did.

How powerful then, how extraordinary, that they each begin to speak of God's deeds and powers by proclaiming them in the tongues of the people in the crowd? I think the wind and fire that descended in that room, these symbols of God's presence, also gave them the courage to leave that room and begin a ministry that would become the Church as you and I know it. Fires were lit in their hearts and minds and full of confidence, energy, they went out into the streets of Jerusalem where they were accused of being drunk at nine in the morning.
Jesus said this would happen, it would have to happen and it wouldn't be easy. It would have been easy to continue meeting in the upper room, to have people come to them, but what would they do when the room couldn't hold any more people? The body of Christ wasn't for safe quarters behind locked doors – it was meant for people and places beyond Jerusalem. It had life breathed into it with fire and wind. The church was for everyone. Unfortunately, throughout our common history, that spirit was mistaken by some as something for only those who prayed a certain way, believed a certain doctrine, to be held close in upper rooms, a personal messiah. Private spirituality has its place and practice, and I embrace it, but it is out there in the streets, and in the world, that the Church belongs. Because of this relationship, there are bumps in the road that we have to negotiate as best we can – differences of opinion and doctrine that can divide, or even better, bring us together. And we have the Holy Spirit, the breath of God, to guide us. How does the Holy Spirit inspire us to proclaim and live out the Gospel in this post-modern, busy, secular world?
She is the spark that makes us sit up and listen, pay attention, when we hear the Word, discovering in it a commonality with our daily lives, something that makes us say, "Yes, that's what the Kingdom of Heaven is like! It's like my office when we jump in and help someone else with a project, when we make a collection for someone in trouble or sick; it's like my church when we feed the hungry; it's when we show kindness and love to one another just because we want to, not for ulterior motives or to receive something in kind. She is the tongue of fire resting above our heads, encouraging and guiding us to follow the great commandment.
The Holy Spirit reveals Jesus to all who look for him, and brings us into a right relationship with God that in turn, opens us to relationships with each other that are loving and nurturing. It is this same Spirit that is alive in the water of baptism, the bread and wine of our common meal, the oil of healing and chrism. The Spirit resides within each of us while at prayer and leads us out of this our very own Upper Room, this nave, to do Christ's work in the world, to push us beyond what we expect of ourselves, beyond our abilities, and comfort zones.
I don't know about you, but I'm ready to step out of that upper room and take it into the streets.

Shepherds

2008-04-13T19:51:00.000-07:00

Today is the fourth of Sunday of Easter, traditionally called "Good Shepherd Sunday." The gospel from John focused on Jesus' exhortation that he is the shepherd and he knows his sheep, that those who enter the fold by the gate are true sheep, and those who enter via the window or over the fence, as it were are theives and bandits.

It's hard to look at this text in context. As one of my friends and parishioners noted this morning at coffee hour, even during Jesus' time it might have been hard for the followers of Jesus to get the allegory of Jesus being the shepherd of a flock, afterall, they were poor urban folk living in Jerusalem, fishermen of Capernaum or Magdala, and Jesus was a carpenter from Nazareth.

Shepherds lived a lonely, solitary life. They brought the sheep out to the pastures beyond the villages and towns, and stayed there all day, watching over their charges to keep them safe from wolves and/or poachers, sometimes staying away from civilization for days and weeks. The shepherds knew their flock, and the sheep knew their shepherd. The shepherd attends his flock with the diligence and care of a father for his children.

Knowing this, seeing Jesus as the Good Shepherd isn't impossible. Jesus came into the world to gather God's children to him, to bring them to the fold, the Kingdom, and lead them to a way of life that it is harmonious with creation. He warns his first century listeners to be wary of those who claim to have the answers, to have the right way of life, for they are the thieves and bandits who jump over the wall or go through a window to get into the fold, rather than follow Jesus through the gate.

Today, the shepherd is as foreign to us as a knight on horseback or a Hobbit. We don't have occasion to see them on our commutes to work and school, not most of us, anyway. Still, the message Jesus offers is worth noting. It's in our best interest to be wary of those who say they have the answers, the secrets to life, those who invite us to get rich quick, to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. Strange, as I was typing this, a television commercial was playing in the living room and the jingle went something like, "I want it all . . . I want it all . . . I want it now." Is this the message we want to convey? Having the most doesn't get you into the Kingdom, having all the answers to the most puzzling questions in the universe may get you a spot on a game show, but it doesn't guarantee a place at the table, or a room in the Father's house. Hearing the Word, sharing it, living a life in right relationship and taking right action, a life modelling the gospel to one's best ability invites us to join the fold, to enter by the gate. In this way, we can be shepherds like Jesus. Or if we must be sheep, we will know who our shepherd is.

Alleluia, He is risen.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.

Ellen+

Even Christ Went Up on Mountain

2008-04-06T14:13:00.001-07:00

During Holy Week, I thought I would report on each of the days and gospel lessons, and also comment on Easter Day. I wasn't expecting exhaustion or depression to come from my favorite of holy seasons.

So I stepped away from theological reflection and stepped back for God to do the work, which meant that I did a lot of sleeping, praying and tried to relax. When you have to bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan, look after children, and fit ministry around such a life, once in a while the Trinity invites you to do nothing except bask in God's love.

Which is what I did.

Alleluia, he is risen!

Ellen+

We had hoped . . . .

2008-04-06T14:08:00.000-07:00

This week's Gospel from Luke continues the narration of the events of Easter Day.
How is it possible that joy springs from grief?
In the last weeks, we’ve been on the road to Jerusalem with Jesus and his followers. We’ve witnessed the glorious entry into the city, the poignant supper at which a woman anoints Jesus and washes him with her tears, we’ve seen the incredible and necessary raising of Lazarus, and we’ve experienced the Seder in the upper room, and finally the trial and execution of Jesus. After some pretty amazing moments that give life and hope comes a horrific, mind and spirit numbing death. So it’s hard to imagine that something good could come of it. If you, as I, have lost someone you knew, someone you loved, with whom you shared a life, meals, joys and sorrows, then you’ve felt the pain that comes from such loss and the accompanying grief. It’s not hard then, to put ourselves on the road to Emmaus.
My first experience of Emmaus was Rembrandt’s famous painting “The Supper at Emmaus.” In typical fashion for this artist the painting is suffused in soft, dim colors and hues; Jesus’ face is bathed in gold light; he looks wistfully to the heavens and is captured in mid-prayer. The disciples gaze in wonderment.
There’s more to this town, though. It was some seven miles out of Jerusalem, and had a history of violence. It was thought to be the base camp for Judas Maccabeus and his uprising, and it was burned by the Romans in retaliation for the unrest and revolts following the death of Herod – two thousand rebels were crucified there. People in that generation would have memories of the crosses lining the road. On that third day after the crucifixion, a place of defeat and lost hope is restored by Jesus as a place of fellowship and love.
This morning’s story begins when the two disciples on that Sunday afternoon walk away from Jerusalem, perhaps running for their lives, maybe they feel lost, hopeless, let down. They discuss the events of the last week and in particular the discovery at the tomb that very morning. A stranger joins them on the walk and the disciples are amazed that there is actually one person in the region who has not heard about the death and resurrection of Jesus. Here they recount what they’ve been discussing and add a personal postscript: that they had hoped Jesus would be the one to redeem Israel. Let me put that remark in context. There had been prophets before Jesus who claimed to be the Messiah and their message and ministry didn’t strike the right chord with the people. They were executed as Jesus had been, so their missions were considered failures. This is probably what Cleopas and his friend were thinking – here was yet another so-called prophet who didn’t make good on his claims; he, like all the rest, failed and it was business as usual in Roman-governed Palestine.
But Jesus did something different. He kept his promise. He fulfilled the prophecies. He did rise on the third day. These facts, and his message proclaiming the kingdom of heaven, his call to a unique and unconditional love, made this call to right action very different, very powerful – and as we know today, very successful.
The disciples didn’t know this. They are so deep in their misery, they don’t recognize the man walking with them. This stranger interprets scripture and the events of the week as part of the greater story of humanity and of God’s action in the world as chronicled by the prophets and scripture. Yes, it was necessary that Jesus suffered, died and was buried, but death is not the end of the story. He reveals himself to these disciples in an act of love and fellowship that they would have recognized if they had been present during the feeding of the five thousand and if they were at table at the last supper -- a simple breaking of bread and sharing a meal. Something Jesus did every day with his friends. It is at that moment eyes are opened, and memory and recognition come into play. Hearts that have been lit aflame by the interpretation of Scripture still burn after they recognize it was Jesus, who vanishes as mysteriously from their table as he appeared on the road.
The disciples return to Jerusalem, where, by the way, they were commanded to stay by Jesus, and tell their story. Earlier in the day, they didn’t believe the women when they ran back from the empty tomb and tried to tell everyone what they’d seen, but because these two disciples had seen the risen Lord, their doubt becomes belief. Through these events a new community emerges. It is a community of faith built on understanding of scripture, worship and the sharing of a common experience of the risen Christ. Jesus’ words to Thomas from last week’s Gospel are still ringing in our ears: “Blessed are those who had not seen, yet come to believe.” That would be us.
But we’re human, we have our expectations. We had hoped . . .
Each one of us, in our own way and times, has repeated the words of the disciples, “we had hoped.” The first of four times for me was in April of 1969, and if you had told me then that joy came of grief, I would have ignored it, or more probably, slammed my bedroom door shut and turned up the volume on the Moody Blues, the Beatles, or the Rolling Stones – whatever I was annoying my family with that day. I was 15, you see, and my mother had just died unexpectedly. One afternoon she was there, the next morning she was gone. No warning, no nothing. She was gone. The days and weeks that followed were a blur then, and still are. It was full of moments I do remember, moments in which I sought answers and wondered how my brother and sisters were handling their grief – we never talked about it. We had hoped, you see, that she could still be with us.
I’ve thought like this, said these words aloud and to God. What about you? I disobeyed Christ, in that I walked away from Jerusalem, away from the pain and memories, away from the life Christ gave me. The grief clouded my sight and I didn’t want to see past it.
It happens to all of us. We wish we could have had one more day to say all that needed to be said; we wish we could make things right between our loved ones; we wish it all could have been done differently; said “I love you and always have, always will.”
Valid and real thoughts, honest emotions, these.
We weren’t and aren’t alone. We were and are heard. As we hope and wonder, Jesus comes into our lives with words of comfort and hope. We are reminded that God became one of us, and shared our experience, our joys, our grief, our pain. Jesus reminds us that on the Cross, God took and blessed and broke the most perfect of lives and offered it to us in the midst of suffering so that all sadness and pain might become a bridge to a loving, sustaining presence.
And if there’s a small voice within that still hedges, still whispers, “Yes, but . . .” Then come! I invite you to this table. Come here where Jesus invites you, me, all of us, anyone who is hungry to take as often as necessary the bread that he blessed and broke and shared and drink the cup he pours out for all humanity. Your eyes will be opened and your hearts will be burning with hope.
Jesus will always be with us on our roads and at our tables.
He is risen, Alleluia!

With God's love and mine this Easter season,

Ellen+

The Journey of a Lifetime . . . for all Life

2008-03-17T08:24:00.001-07:00

So it begins; and so it ends. Some say it is the greatest story ever told. These seven days hold excitement and dread for me - excitement because I never tire of the story, always find something new to ponder; dread because of the long hours of liturgy that culminate in exhaustion. I joke that when Christ climbs out of his tomb, I climb into one.
This is the week that I reflect on what exactly happened. Prophets came and went, were executed, in first century Palestine by the authorities. What made Jesus special?
His special relationship with God - he was the only man, I believe, that fully understood and accepted God's message of unconditional love and how to return it. As God incarnate, he could show us how to love, and demonstrated in a supreme act of sacrifice that unconditional, unwavering love.
I've always had a problem with the atonement theology - that Christ died to take away our sins. If that were so, then why is sin and evil such a problem after two thousand years? This is where my belief of right action and unconditional love comes into play. Yes, Christ died to take away the sins of world, but he died also to show us a new way of living, of loving, of serving. That's what made his ministry stand out among so many first century prophets.
He also kept his word, delivered on his teaching. He said he would rise again after death and return to the Father, that he would be with us always. He said that if we believed, we would have eternal life; if we loved one another, he would be in the midst of us. That's what really made him special. He was, I think, the first to offer a message of hope and change. Christ offered us a new life through his sacrifice and a new way to look at the world and each other and more importantly, to love God, because as he said, he could do nothing except through God.
You see, loving God leads us on the journey of a lifetime, just as Jesus' complete love and understanding of God's call for him, led him on a journey that we commemorate during the next seven days.
This week is Holy Week, and I'll return with reflections on each of the sacred days and hours of liturgy and worship.
I hope during this week you find a path you can walk.

May the peace and love of God, which passes all understanding, keep us and sustain us this Holy Week and always.

Go in peace, dear ones!

Ellen+

The New Life

2008-03-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

"In that part of the book of my memory before which little can be read, there is a heading, which says: ‘Incipit vita nova: Here begins the new life’."

So begins the Introduction to La Vita Nova, The New Life, written by Dante.

With this week's Gospel from John 11:1-45, we are witnesses to a new life - both spiritual and physical.

This scripture brings an end to Jesus' earthly ministry and in a sensational way, as if Jesus is pushing the agenda here. He has been giving the apostles clues as to the next chapter of the story, yet it hasn't sunk in yet. What better way to hammer home the message that one is the Son of God by bringing a man four days dead back to life?

I love this story, for it tells of unconditional love, unwavering faith and unfathomable power through the working of God in Christ.

Jesus is en route to Bethany when he learns that his friend Lazarus lies near death. Rather than pick up speed and hurry, Jesus takes his time so that he arrives too late to do anything - or does he? We hear from Martha, Lazarus' sister, a word or two of scolding: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died," and then affirmation of Jesus' unique relationship with God: "But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." This is unwavering faith and love, knowledge that in God all things are possible.

And so it happens. Lazarus is brought back from the dead, but not before Jesus is disturbed at his friend Mary's distress and the grief of those who were with her. The Gospeller tells us that Jesus, greatly disturbed, goes to the tomb and weeps and returns again, still disturbed. I used to wonder why Jesus would be so unhappy when he knew he was going to raise Lazarus from the dead; perhaps we told this, in this very spiritual and mystical of Gospels, to show the human side of Jesus. We are shown a Jesus who is like us.

Or, could be be that Jesus was anticipating, even fearing, his own human limitations and his death?

Whatever the case, Jesus prays to God that those who were present might believe in his power to do God's will on earth, that they may finally understand. Lazarus comes out of the tomb. He has new life, reborn through the saving acts of God through Christ.

As we approach Holy Week, we are given the promise of a new life when we proclaim the risen Lord on Easter Day. We are given the opportunity to climb out of our self-made tombs of despair, stress, selfishness, self-pity and give ourselves totally to God and give God control of our hearts. Releasing ourselves from this kind of death will enable us to live out the Gospel and serve one another as Christ serves us.

That's not a bad life, is it? It's the new life I want, and maybe you do to.

Go forth in Christ, dear ones!

Ellen+

The Most Unlikely People . . .

2008-03-03T07:45:00.000-08:00

I may be repeating myself, but I used to think that God chose the perfect people to represent him/her on Earth; the people who went to church on Sundays, always did good work, never swore, never had money troubles, never had relationship problems, always there with a green bean casserole in times of crisis. This week's scripture proves how wrong I was, and how each of us, in our own way, and according to our ability, is suited to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of Heaven.

God chose David, a pretty shepherd boy with lovely eyes to lead Israel.

Jesus chose a man blind from birth to proclaim the good news.

In each of these stories, the norm of society is turned upside down. What we assume should be is not.

I imagine that the Temple authorities believed that one of their own, a boy born into a Pharisitical family of privilege and wealth, education in the Mosaic Law, would be the Messiah, never mind Isaiah's prophecies! This what their society knew to be management material. Instead, a man who is disabled, is cured by Jesus on the Sabbath and his insistent testimony, a testimony steeped in faith, leads Jesus to tell him that the man who healed him is the Messiah. It is Jesus.

David, with his beauty and lovely eyes, was a flawed man but a great king, a man of faith. He made some whoppers when it came to mistakes, but God loved him nevertheless, and David honored God with some of the most beautiful poetry imaginable, the Psalms.

God chooses the least likely of people to carry the message and proclaim the good news.

The good news for all of us imperfect people in the world is that it's okay not to have all the answers, to not drive the best and biggest SUV, to live in a toney neighborhood or carry pets as accessories. It's okay if we are who God calls us to be, and if we make mistakes, or are less than perfect. Our striving for perfect intention and perfect relationships are more important. If we strive every day to live out the Gospel, picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves off when we stumble, then perhaps we're that much closer to the perfect Jesus asks us to be. And how wonderful is that?

Go forth in the name of Christ.

With God's love and mine,

Ellen+

The Woman at the Well

2008-02-24T20:59:00.001-08:00

Nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus have an extended conversation with a woman except in the Gospel according to John and it is a powerful conversation at that. It is bold, unexpected, and is an illustration of the Kingdom of Heaven where all are equal, man and woman, Samaritan and Jew.

The story opens with Jesus stopping to rest at Jacob's Well near Sychar. He's tired and the Apostles have gone into town to find something to eat. A Samaritan woman comes to the well to draw water. As she goes about her business, Jesus says, "Give me a drink." The woman is astounded for multiple reasons - first, a man speaks to her, second, he is a Jew and she is a Samaritan and they are adversaries going back centuries. One can only imagine what the woman is thinking. A strange man sits by the well and says he's thirsty, yet he has no bowl, cup or bucket. She is bold enough to question Jesus, and he responds to her inquiries with the statement that if she knew of the water he was speaking of, she'd ask for it - and she does. Their conversation grows bolder, more meaningful and at one point Jesus admits to being the Messiah. The story continues with her running into town to tell the news that a man who knew everything about her was at the well - and he was the messiah.

Sometimes I feel like the Samaritan woman. I go about my business, I live on the perimeter of what we consider the norm of society, and sometimes these wonderful insights into life hit me, like a wave on a beach or a gust of morning wind. I want to run and tell everyone I know what I've learned, what I'm feeling, to invite others to experience for myself what I have experienced. I want them to drink from living water.

What I take from this Gospel, and I hope you as well, is that we are all part of the great cosmic scheme -- Jesus chooses to reveal himself to the least likely of people in his society: an outsider and a woman. It doesn't happen within the precincts of the Temple within the Holy of Holies, but at a well on a blistering hot afternoon when a Samaritan woman who has been married several times and is living with a man outside the norm of society comes up to the well to draw water. Jesus asks, "Give me a drink."

I cry, "Jesus, give me some of that living water!"

Go forth in the name of Christ!

With God's love and mine,

Ellen+

Let it Be

2008-02-17T16:17:00.000-08:00

I have a number of favorite heroes and heroines from scripture, just as I’m sure some or all of you may have. In the Hebrew scripture, I count Elijah, Ruth, Deborah, Jael, and Daniel. In the Christian scripture, there’s Peter, Mary -- all of the Maries -- including Magdalene, Stephen, our sister Phoebe, a deacon, and of course, Jesus – and Nicodemus. Nicodemus shows us that sometimes discussion is inadequate in experiencing the understanding God. Sometimes, you have to just let it, to get it -- and by that I mean one needs to let God take over, let these inspired and inspiring words sink in. You have to shut up, open your heart and mind, and let the beauty and mystery of God’s love happen to get what’s going on. And how wonderful and inspiring this Gospel of John is! It stands apart from the Synoptics, for its advanced Christology, its mystery, its allusions to water, life and light; and as we’ve heard in the scripture passage this morning, Nicodemus goes to Jesus under the cloak of darkness and ultimately comes to the light.
When Nicodemus meets Jesus, perhaps you get a sense, as I do, that things are changing for him. The location of this meeting isn’t mentioned, but given that Jesus has upset the local authorities and the local economy by chasing the merchants and money changers, the cattle, doves and sheep out of the Temple right before this visit, it is somewhere in Jerusalem. Perhaps Nicodemus was a witness to Jesus’ protest, or had seen and heard him elsewhere in the city. Perhaps he was present when the Temple authorities decided that Jesus had crossed the line, was a threat and must die. Whatever the circumstance, the teaching he’s witnessed and his station in society compels him to go to Jesus. Nicodemus comes in secret during the night so as not to be seen. And he’s a man in the dark.

You have to feel for him: he approaches Jesus wanting answers, and no doubt risks his life in doing so because he’s a Pharisee, he’s a man of reputation and Jesus is still an unknown, a Galilean rabbi who’s cause a bit of trouble. Nicodemus addresses Jesus with respect – rabbi – a little one on one rapport - and receives puzzling responses. Is Jesus being deliberately rude? I don’t think so. Jesus is responding in a way that initiates an intimate dialogue – he answers questions with questions of his own, questions that provoke deeper thought, prayerful consideration. Questions that sometimes reveal innocence or naivety. We don’t get the answer we expect, but we get word play: wind and spirit, the lifting up of Jesus – up on the cross and then into heaven – and the curious statement from Jesus that you can’t enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit, that you must be born from above. Is it any wonder that Nicodemus goes away dazed and confused, takes these statements literally? He doesn’t have the filter of two thousand years and countless commentaries and critiques to ‘get it.’ He either doesn’t understand, or chooses not to. I think it’s the first, for he’ll later defend Jesus at his trial and offer costly spices for his burial. At some point, the light glows brightly for him and he understands.

This is a bit more than my experience. I can relate to Nicodemus, whom I like to call the patron saint of the clueless; I count myself among those lucky few. Aren’t there times when you find yourself stumbling in the dark, looking for the light? When you’re so confounded that all you can do is just scratch your head and nod, pretending to get it? Don’t we have all the answers? Not on your life. Aren’t there moments when you do come to an understanding, you cry, “Ohhhhh! So that’s what he meant!”

And maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

Sometimes we have to step back and just live in the awe. We can be like Nicodemus and walk away, dazed and confused, with answers that answer nothing, but there’s beauty in that. As we grope in darkness, we find ourselves dependent on a God that comes to us and connects us, giving us a bridge to salvation and eternal life.

How can this be, Nicodemus asks?

It can be because God makes it so.

It is not that we are expected to undergo a physical renaissance, but that we undergo a transformation within, a spiritual rebirth, which is more meaningful, more powerful.

And if we step back and take it all in, we can let it be.

Eventually, we’ll get it.

Go forth in the name of Christ.

Ellen+

Into the Wilderness

2008-02-10T20:59:00.000-08:00

The stark narrative that is Mark’s gospel tells of the baptism of Christ and his preparation for, and beginning of, his ministry; this narrative reminds Christians to set time apart to be alone and quiet with God, to prepare ourselves for ministry and be ready for challenges.
If you want richness and drama, exciting dialogue, details filled in, like that found in the narratives of Matthew and Luke, you won’t find it in this Gospel. Mark only gives us the minimalist version of Jesus’ story. Today we have the beginning. We hear how Jesus came to John and was baptized; at the moment he rises out of the water, the heavens are ripped apart, the Spirit descends and God speaks. Then the Spirit drives him immediately into the wilderness with the wild beasts and angels to see to his needs.
Our wilderness and our wild beasts may be many things – we have so much to choose from nowadays. It’s a long list, and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about: beginning with stress at home and down the list to war.
But it’s not time to crawl under a rock.
We have an example to show us how to cope and how to garner strength and faith, and it is in God, working through Jesus.
Right after his baptism, Jesus was tested rigorously – he did not immediately begin his ministry, but was immediately driven into the wilderness. One might suppose that the wilderness is not an idyllic woodland, but an arid, stark landscape, apart from society and all comforts. Mark says that Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan. But wait a moment - didn’t the voice from heaven just say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased?” Why would the Son of God need to go through all that? It’s a puzzling contradiction, but necessary, because it shows that Jesus is truly human and his conflict with Satan, as Williamson states, “is the ordeal which validates the man Jesus as bearer of God’s banner throughout the coming battle.”[1]
Could it be that his baptism was a commissioning of his ministry and his trials a strengthening, hardening experience?
Here’s another thought, another thread to connect it all: baptism, preparation and identity link Jesus to us. Just as he began his ministry with baptism and preparation, so do we. Jesus’ baptism does not set him apart from us, he is one of us. He is the beloved Son, and we are the beloved Children of God. Christians past, present and future have these commonalities, no matter what is in store for each of us in our spiritual journeys. It is this deacon's personal opinion that a Jesus who experiences the joys and sorrow of life, is put through trials, is a Jesus that is accessible, making God even more accessible.
Throughout history, humanity has been tested, often in the wilderness, and often it has failed, but it came out with a deeper, more meaningful spirituality, and that is what I strive for, and maybe you do, and we hope to pass our trials as Jesus did.
I invite you to take some time out of your hectic lives, go to the wilderness, the desolate place that is uniquely yours and seek out God, find moments with the Lord and empty your heart and soul. Let the Spirit enter the void, fill you with the love of Christ. I invite you to wrestle with your wild beasts and demons, whatever they may be, and know that angels will patiently and lovingly attend you. When you emerge, I hope and pray that you will be restored, and we all have new strength and a sense of commitment to whatever ministry we are called, so that together we may bear witness to the good news and proclaim that the Kingdom of God is here and now.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

[1] Lamar Williamson, Jr., Interpretation – Mark, John Knox Press, Louisville, 1983

2008-01-27T19:22:00.000-08:00

One of my earliest memories of evangelism was my brother's Vacation Bible School pageant. I don't remember how old we were, but I remember my brother wearing a paper sailor's cap like those we made out of newspaper and holding a fishing rod while singing, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men, I will make you fishers of men if you follow me . . ."

What did that mean? I will make you fishers of men?

In the version of the Christian Scripture used today, the clever invitation from Jesus is now "come, I will make you fish for people." It doesn't have the same humor to my mind, but it's message is the same. Jesus has arrived at Capernaum and is watching the local fishermen pull in their nets, trim the sails, whatever fishermen did, and he invites them to drop their nets and come with him to start a ministry of proclaiming the kingdom of Heaven and pull in those people who hear the message and are drawn to it, building a new community with the Good News.

Peter, Andrew, James and John, dropped everything, gave up their familiar, work-a-day lives to become disciples of this young rabbi from Nazareth called Jesus bar Joseph when he stopped by the lake and called to them.

I don't know if I would have had the strength to do something so brave or monumental. In all honesty, I would have said, "Yeah, but first let me finish typing this." or made any number of excuses to delay the departure.

I also don't know if Jesus would have waited in the front room for me to finish whatever it was I thought was so important that it couldn't wait until I returned.

What I do know is that Jesus offers the invitation to me, just as he offers the same to you every day. I think sometimes we're just too wrapped up in life to hear His voice. But think of the new possibilities and challenges, new lives through Christ, when we drop the nets and come along.

And what is this new life? It is life made complete by the love God gives us through Christ.

That love is offered freely and is sustaining; we are guided and supported by love - from the Trinity and from one another.

Come follow me, Jesus invites. Drop the phone, drop the remote control, shut down the laptop, put down the Sudoku puzzle. That's what Jesus is saying to us now. Put aside the concerns and stresses of life and come to me and I will show you there's a better way to live.

Now excuse me while I'll log off . . . .

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

Wade in the Water

2008-01-19T08:33:00.000-08:00

It's a safe bet that a majority of people raised in the church don't remember their baptisms because they were infants or toddlers when they were emmersed, sealed and marked as Christ's own. Then there are those Christians who for whatever reason weren't baptised until they were older children, youth or adults. I'm in the second category.

Actually, I'm not.

My baptism happened when I was eight years old on a warm August evening. For days I'd been pestering my mother about becoming Christian. All of my friends were Roman Catholic (the largest denomination in town) and I wanted to be part of that exclusive club. Not because everyone else was doing it, mind, but because from an early age, I felt it was necessary for me to be who I was.

Let me give you the back story: my parents were Roman Catholic on my mother's side and Lutheran on my father's. My parents were married in the middle of World War II in a civil ceremony. Because of this, we weren't baptised as children due to the prohibitions of the church in those days.

I pestered my mother with questions about God, religion, Jesus, Mary and Joseph - which is what she used to sigh when I posited yet another question: "If women can't do anything in the church like boys, why did Jesus see Mary first?" - "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ellen! The questions you ask!"

I continued my quest for baptism until one night my mother had had enough of my questions and sent me to bed.

I climbed under the covers so my sister couldn't hear my sobbing. When it was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Filling up a glass of water, I tossed it on my face saying, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit - you're baptised! Amen!"

That's not what my mother said when she came in and saw the water all over the bathmats and tiles.

I didn't mind the week of restriction for payment for audacity. I felt I had done the right thing.

My truly Christian baptism came 34 years later at the age of 42, at my home parish of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, at the Great Vigil. Here I was sealed and marked, and seared - the baptismal water was a tad warm and I was the first to be baptised that evening. The rector whispered to me, "It's a little warm," as she baptised me. I still have a mark on my forehead where the first drops of water landed. I consider it my outward and visible sign.

Why did it take me so long to be baptised?

I went through Roman Catholic catechism and I read the baptismal covenant. Frankly, I didn't think I could keep the promises I was being asked to make: "Will you proclaim by word and exaple the Goods of God in Christ?" Well, I figured, in order to do that, I'd have to be better than others - act better and live a better life than most. "Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" For me, it was hard to find a loving Christ in fellow office workers, family members, even myself - and serving them!

For years I struggled with these questions, and then I realized that God doesn't want me to be perfect, just do God's perfect work. Christ said, "Be perfect as our Father is perfect." But what does that mean? God created our world! God is everywhere! How am I able to do that?

Creation is full of little mistakes and imperfections, just like me. God wants me to to strive for the holiness one can only have with a deep and committed relationship with Him through Christ and creation, through my brothers and sisters.

Baptism, I discovered, doesn't make you holy, it sets in motion a wonderful, frightening journey towards the Kingdom of Heaven. Eventually, we all get there. How we get there is up to us and God and it begins with one step at a time, the first when we put a toe in the Jordan River.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

An Epiphany

2008-01-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

Christmas is behind the secular world for another 365 days, and fast another year comes before us. I work as a legal secretary for a law firm in the financial district of San Francisco and on Monday, we hit the ground running. Our clients were back in their offices and it was business as usual.

I had a hard time concentrating this week. I'd like to say that it was forgetting my medication three days out of five, but no, the images and words of Matthew's retelling of the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child played over and over in my thoughts. I imagined what it would have been like for all parties in this drama - the paranoid king Herod, the mysterious seers, wise men, kings, whatever they truly were, the amazed parents living in a cave or something like it during the census in Bethlehem.

Popular culture has the Magi arriving in Bethlehem within hours of Jesus' birth, when it reality, it was probably weeks, or months. I think Franco Zeffirelli's retelling of this event in his series "Jesus of Nazareth" showed it best: the journey following the star takes several weeks, months, and they finally arrive where Mary and Joseph are lodged. Mary and Joseph with Jesus are returning from a day in Bethlehem and who should be waiting on their doorstep are three impressive gentlemen with their retinues and camels.

Well, I don't know about you, but I'd be afraid, and a bit wary - okay, I'd be paranoid. Who are these people and why are they here, and why are they bringing my son these expensive gifts? Sure, the angel Gabriel told me that I was giving birth to a child who would save the world - but maybe I hadn't thought it out, understood what it really meant. As a mother of three, I can tell you the months of pregnancy can be distracting as one goes through every day life. Maybe I'd fall asleep every night, looking at the baby in my arms, glancing over at the expensive gifts and wondering . . . can I do this? Can I be the mother of Emmanuel? More importantly, can I let my son be Emmanuel, can I let go and watch him become someone extraordinary.

Can I stand by and watch him die?

These thoughts were in my mind, along with the paranoia of Herod, who was worried that someone was going to take his job; how could someone want to kill a child? And the Magi, these men with education and wealth who come to pay homage to a little boy swaddled and no doubt sleeping in his mother's arms. Looking at the baby, I wonder if the Magi smiled, and softened and let the infant grab a finger, made silly noises like all people do when they see babies.

What came out of these musings was a sense of hope and love.

The birth of a child comes from an act of love in most cases. Looking down at a newborn's face, counting fingers and toes and wondering if he or she has Dad's eyes and Mom's nose, a sense of hope surfaces. With every child born there is hope for the world, there is a wellspring of promise and goodness, another chance for humanity to get it right with God.

And that was my Epiphany this week. A new year; a new child. There is love and hope once again in the world, and it's up to us to keep that light shining.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

Light!

2007-12-31T19:17:00.000-08:00

I used to call the time between Christmas and the middle of January the dark time. This started when I was a little girl and continued until I began to understand the difference between darkness and light where it concerns God.

Why did I call it the dark time?

Christmas was over – Christmas trees were kicked to the curb; gone were the shiny decorations, the bright, colored lights, the fake snow in a can, the Glass Wax snowflake stenciling on the windows, the endless carols on the radio stations – the happy season of peace on earth and good will towards all was torn off the block of calendar sheets for another three hundred and sixty four days. It seemed to me, and this is my humble and personal observation, that the smiles on the faces people from Thanksgiving to Christmas, that look of expectancy, the sounds happy greetings and optimism, faded, and people looked grim, worried, preoccupied – again.

The dark time was upon my world.

But, like so many other times in my life, I was dead wrong.

There was light in the world. It wasn’t a pale beam of winter sunlight that crosses the floor during the day, but a spark that was ignited on Christmas, an ember that smoldered deep within, and I believe it was within me, maybe within you, and you. All that’s required is fanning the flame with love, trust and belief. And that kindling came from a sentence as simple and as powerful as they come:

“In the beginning was the Word.”

It has been said that the prologue to the Gospel of John, is a synopsis of the Gospel itself, it is a summary of Christian life -- conversion, baptism, Eucharist and quest for higher spirituality -- and a revelation of the true identity of Jesus and his connection to God. It has been called an apologia written in a time when the Johannine community was divided over the question of Jesus’ divinity. Or it is all of these.

I like to think that this prologue continues the mystery and beauty of the Christmas story, and, that you and I are invited to carry that mystery and beauty with us during the rest of the year, to move out of the dark spaces and corners in our lives towards the light that embraces, offers grace. John’s poetic language perhaps tells us that God wanted to lift us out of the darkness so very badly, that he did something deities and monarchs rarely do – God climbed off whatever throne we frail humans planted him on, and came down to our level. What’s even more amazing is that when God arrived, it was in the form of a frail, helpless, infant, born to common, yet uncommon people, and as he grew into manhood experienced the joys, sorrows and delights of your average first century Galilean, and inconceivable pain.

Why? Why did this extraordinary incarnation happen?

The obvious answer is atonement for humanity’s sinful nature, to bring us closer to God.

Love is another answer.

God loves us and went to a great deal of trouble to show us how it is to love perfectly and completely in the form of Jesus.

No, I’ve discovered that the dark time is really a time of light, it started with the story of a child born in a manger, and continues with healing, of power beyond belief, a fullness of being, of humanity receiving grace upon grace and to be blessed with the gifts God has bestowed upon us through Jesus. Unfortunately, there were and are those who for whatever reason cannot recognize that Jesus is the light of the world and rejected the man and the message. But to those who did accept him, then and now, and that is to say, put their trust in him, and made a commitment to the Word, a deeper relationship was formed with Jesus; he became our brother, and therefore, we became children of God.

Whatever darkness may envelop the world, whatever gloomy clouds may hang over us in our own lives, it cannot dim the light. We have grace from God to keep the light going. The smallest gesture of kindness, act of compassion, or work of mercy will light up the life of someone else, and in turn, will light up the world.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."

We are embarking on a new year with new possibilities, new hopes and dreams. As with every New Year there is a fresh canvas before us, waiting for us to apply the first brush stroke. Do we want to live in light and experience the love and grace offered to us, follow a path of endless possibilities in a life in Christ, or is it going to be business as usual with grim, set, faces, preoccupied with matters that we have no control over and live in a dark time?

Or we can dispel the darkness and walk in the light.

I pray you; walk with me towards the light!

In this new year, I invite you to go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

Father Figure

2007-12-25T19:08:00.000-08:00

On the last Sunday of Advent, December 23rd, the Gospel told the story of Joseph, Mary's husband and Jesus' father.

Joseph is one of those shadowy persons in the New Testament, like Phoebe, our sister the deacon - real, but not much else is known about them. Joseph was descended from King David and traditionally is known as a tradesman, a carpenter, from Nazareth. We know he marries Mary, the daughter of Joachim and Anna, and is the human father of their first son, Jesus.

Paintings of the Holy Family have tended to show Joseph as a circumspect, elder man, balding and gray, looking a bit bewildered. Wouldn't you have the look of a deer in the head beams if you found out your fiancee was with child by the Holy Spirit? If the son you were going to raise was the savior of humanity?

I am not a proponent of the Virgin Birth theology -- it's my opinion that the first child born to every woman is a virgin birth -- but I do believe in the power of the Holy Spirit and God's plan for us. Mary of Nazareth must have been a pretty amazing young woman to have been singled out by God. I heard a joke in a Rowan Atkinson film, "Keeping Mum" that goes something like God fell in love with a young Jewish girl two thousand years ago and everyone is still talking about it. Well, Atkinson's character says, it's something worth talking about. And so it is.

What about Joseph? How special is this guy???? Being a parent is daunting, but consider what Joseph the carpenter had to contend with. He had to decide whether or not to break off his engagement to Mary and was ready to quietly put an end to their relationship when the Holy Spirit intervenes and tells him it's going to be okay, to take Mary to wife and raise the child, name him Jesus. He is also warned about King Herod's slaughter of the innocents and escapes with Mary and the baby into Egypt. The family returns to Galilee after Herod's death and settles down, perhaps as a normal family. Matthew 12:46-47 mentions that Jesus' mother and brothers wait while he is teaching a crowd of his followers, and perhaps stands in the back wanting to speak with him, so it is not impossible to believe that Mary and Joseph had other children - indeed, one of the brothers, James, was the leader of the church in Jerusalem after Jesus' execution and resurrection.

It's not hard for me to personally believe a young and virile husband like Joseph, rather than the elderly sage leaning on his staff watching his wife and infant son from a safe distance; it's easier to understand and believe that the man was like almost all fathers and husbands -- caring for his wife and children, teaching his sons and perhaps daughters, or watching with patience and fear as all parents do, when the children grow up and move on to make their ways in the world, or watching a sleeping child and wondering what the baby will look like in twenty years, what the baby will become.

Just as Mary was singled out among all women to bear a son and raise him up to lose him to the world and ultimately a criminal's shameful death, so too was Joseph chosen among all men to be the role model of father and teacher, gentle lover, the provider and protector; I wonder if Joseph had premonitions of his eldest son's future and if he fretted over what would happen to Jesus. If he was a father, I would say yes, and yes again to that question.

Mary accepted the role delegated to her by God, and so did Joseph. Mary has been revered over the ages, made an equal to her son by some. Joseph of Nazareth deserves the same love and reverence.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

Are You the One?

2007-12-20T20:23:00.000-08:00

On the third Sunday of Advent, traditionally called "Rose Sunday", or "Refreshment Sunday", "Gaudate Sunday", the bright spot in a contemplative season, we hear of John the Baptist sending a disciple to ask Jesus, "Are you the one?" While in prison, John wants to know if Jesus is the one coming, or if he should wait for another. Perhaps his uncertainty stems from his own firery words: ". . . he will thoroughly sweep his threshing floor. He will gather his grain into the barn, but the chaff he will burn with inextinguishable fire."
Once again we have a message quite different than what we expect from a season of joy and love.
And we have Jesus a chapter earlier stating that he did not come to cast peace on Earth but came with a sword. He would divide a family, husband from wife, mother from son. Yet in response to John's query Jesus lists works of healing and restoration that he has performed. Is it any wonder that John is curious? There's a bit of inconsistency in his prophecy about Jesus and Jesus' works.
What about we Christians today?
Since childhood, we have been taught that Jesus is love, and yet, in the Gospels we see a very different messiah than the blue-eyed, serene, Christ of illustrations that hung in some of our houses.
The Jesus that gives John the Baptist pause is a man whose teaching wakes up disciples, yet he shows a very gentle and loving dimension in his works of healing and evangelism.
Was John, in his prison, wondering if he got it right?
He got it right, this extraordinary prophet and kinsman of Jesus of Nazareth. John is the bridge between the old order - the law and the prophets - and the new order - the Kingdom of Heaven where all have a place - that Jesus brings. He is the transitional prophet, as it were; someone whose presence marks the end of exile, separation and alienation, and at the same time bears witness to the blossoming of the long-anticipated, long-awaited fulfillment of the prophecies of Isaiah and the other prophets. John begins the revolution that is full blown with Jesus.
The season of Advent is like John - it is a time when we straddle the old and the new, we anticipate and wait for the light to come out of the clouds and illuminate our hearts and minds in the guise of Christ the Redeemer and Savior. And don't we have moments of uncertainty ourselves, when we read these contradictory stories of Jesus - the Jesus bringing a sword and the Jesus offering love?
I like to think, and it is this deacon's opinion, that the separation and division Jesus speaks of and the violent actions John preaches about will eventually lead to restoration and healing. We are compelled to sit up and listen harder, take a closer look about us. Maybe we have to go through that unquenchable fire in order to see that the blind are given sight and the lame will walk - see that all are welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven, and that is the true joy and good news of the season.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

In Your Face Theology

2007-12-09T22:07:00.001-08:00

We're at the second Sunday of Advent, now and this morning we hear from Matthew about a prophet named John the Baptist.

John the Baptist? The guy who ate locusts and honey and wore animal skins? The guy who yelled at Pharisees and Sadducees and shouted at people to repent, for the Kingdom was drawing near?

Maybe you're trying to figure out what he has to do with the Christmas story that most of us grew up with. At this time of year, we expect images of the Holy Family: the serene mother Mary, the father Joseph, perhaps a bit perplexed at his situation, and the sweet infant Jesus being adored by his parents, shepherds, farm animals and foreign dignitaries, not a dirty, dissheveled prophet who lived out in the desert and plunged people into the waters of the Jordan to wash them clean of their transgressions and make them new, to bind them to the people of Israel who also came up from the water of the Red Sea transformed, delivered; that's what 'baptise' means in Greek: to plunge. So this week, we await the coming of Christ with the introduction of John - the plunger.

This is the one Isaiah told us about - the one crying out in the wilderness to prepare a straight path to God. Not what we're used to in this season of joy and giving, of peace on Earth and good will towards all, is it?

The navitity scene makes one pause to take in the beauty and humanity of this, the greatest of stories, doesn't it? It touches the heart and makes one feel good.

What John gives us is in your face theology - a wake up call.

"The Kingdom of Heaven is near! You don't know the hour or the day, but you'd better get your lives in order, get your souls in line with God! Someone is coming that is really going to rattle you, make you think and act differently, and you won't even know it at first! So, are you ready? Are you up for it?"

Imagine some guy standing near the shallow end of a community swimming pool shouting this at people as they take laps; or imagine a guy on a street corner near Union Square during the Christmas season shouting scripture at you. Or, what about the occasional eccentric that wanders into church on Sunday morning, the person who brings you out of your reverie on the sermon, or that list of things you made and forgot to follow through on?

That's what John the Baptist is doing: taking us out of our selves and our lives such as they are and bringing us to the realization that there is something more, something better.

This morning in his sermon, the homilist mentioned how different it might be, if, rather than have a vested deacon proclaiming the Gospel from the nave, a wild man came up the center aisle screaming this scripture, how might we react? How would it affect us?

I think, and it is this vested deacon's humble opinion, that it would be a Sunday to remember.

We've had moments during our ten o'clock service where one of Berkeley's many homeless citizens wanders in and joins the congregation, dragging a bag or backpack of all that he or she possesses, settling into a pew and quietly laughing or talking to oneself - or not.

Disruptive as this may seem, look at it this way: what if this is God's way of getting us to pay attention to something other than the altar linen needing pressing, the deacon's stole being inside out or falling off her shoulder for the tenth time, or the candles not burning properly, or the sound system squealing and popping, like turning our hearts and minds to humanity and creation, working together to make the Kingdom a place for all, that reaching out to those less fortunate than ourselves is one way of acknowledging our work in the Kingdom? God made the Kingdom and we should think of ourselves as the stewards of that eternal home. I don't think the Kingdom is a place where we go to have God take care of us; but rather, we go to take care of one another and show God that we get it, that we have the capacity to love and serve as we are called.

Last week, Jesus asked us to pay attention. This week his cousin John demands that not only do we need to pay attention but get our lives and hearts in line with God, and when the one who comes after John appears in our lives, we put down what we're doing and give him our hearts as well as our ears that listen.

So . . . when you're out grocery shopping, or Christmas shopping, or shuttling from home to work, treking from the BART station to the office, take a moment to notice that guy on the street corner, the one with the dog wrapped up in a blanket. Is that who we're waiting for? Find out by saying hello and asking how he's doing. Sure, that may not be the Messiah, but you're one step closer to being in the Kingdom.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!

Blessings,

Ellen+

Watching and Waiting . . .

2007-12-04T07:50:00.000-08:00

I had a dog named Sammy when I was a teenager - he was a mutt, a scraggly mix of Australian shepherd and Samoyed, Huskie and Collie breeds, and the sweetest friend a girl could have. My mother brought him home one night, hidden in the bundle of groceries and files from work. She put him on the kitchen floor and said, "He's an early birthday present, Ellen. Now, could you clean up the mess he made in the back seat of the car?"

I loved that dog as much as I loved my mother, who died several months after she gave him to me. Sammy loved her too. Every night after Mom's death, Sammy would stop whatever he was doing (usually scratching) and sit in front of the door leading from the kitchen to the garage. He'd sit and wait, tail scraping the tiled floor, once in a while he'd make a start and yelp, and after a time, he'd start to howl. This continued for a month. Finally, Sammy gave up and went back to his familiar routines.

I thought of Sammy as I read this past Sunday's Gospel for the first Sunday of Advent, a time of watching and waiting. In the scripture from Matthew 24 at verses 37 through 44, Jesus instructs his disciples on the Mount of Olives about the coming of the Son of Man and how important it is to be vigilant and watch for the signs of His arrival.

No one knows when Christ will return; Paul and his generation thought it was imminent and they looked forward to the end time, preparing for eternal life while toiling in this one.

Isn't that how it is today?

We don't know if Jesus will come next Tuesday afternoon at three o'clock, but we musn't be caught unaware - not like the tee shirt slogan, "Jesus is coming, everybody look busy!" but truly be attentive to our spiritual lives and our working life through the Gospel. Being mindful of what we are called to do, thinking and praying through every step we take on our journeys, prepares us for the moment when he does arrive and asks each of us, "Give me an account of your life; have you listened to my words? Have you talked the talk and walked the walk that I gave you?" and be able to say "Yes!"

So where does Sammy fit in all this?

As I mentioned, Sammy eventually gave up when Mom didn't come through the garage door with a sack of groceries and a bundle of case files. When Jesus doesn't show up at our doors at 5:30 p.m., we shouldn't dispair. Didn't he say we won't know the hour or the day? As people of faith, we should live every day as if it is the last, and be as generous with our love and compassion, with the ministries bestowed on us, as if our lives depend on it, because after all, our eternal lives do.

Mom used to light a candle in Advent and put in the window. She said, she was keeping a light on for Jesus.

She didn't know when He was coming, but she was waiting.

As we all should do.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

King of Kings, and Lord of Lords

2007-11-26T20:46:00.000-08:00

I'm back from a week off. I hope your Thanksgiving holiday was restful and wonderful.

Yesterday was the feast of Christ the King. Strange that a man who never wanted to be king is feted as just that. Yesterday's Gospel from Luke, the crucifixion, tells us that people stood at Golgatha jeering and deriding Jesus for not saving himself, for not using a 'kingly perogative', perhaps. After all, can't kings order a stay of execution? His executioners placed a sign over him stating that Jesus was King of the Jews.

I can't remember once if Jesus ever said he wanted to be a king; I believe he said the opposite, didn't he? Only in John's gospel does he mention that his kingdom is not of this earth when Pilate asks Jesus if he is the king of the Jews; in the synoptics, Jesus replies "You say so" to Pilate's inquiry.

So who says Jesus is King?

Those who knew Jesus, and lived and ate with him, were expecting a secular, temporal king, the kind they knew about – one they hoped would commission an army and liberate his oppressed people, rule wisely and justly. The earthly kings they experienced were very different from that ideal, and Jesus’ followers hoped he would be different.

He was different.

The disciples and the followers didn’t get the message at first. What Jesus taught in his preaching and showed them by example was not a revolution that they could understand, but something wonderful and revolutionary. The Kingdom Jesus invited people to enter was one where the human heart was transformed, where equality and acceptance, all kinds of people were welcomed, and loved unconditionally by God. This was the truth Jesus spoke of – in relationships and dialogues with God, the truth is acted out and felt. In this kingdom, Jesus is the sovereign. He is the king of our hearts.

The truth is, the reign of God through Christ is here and now; it’s always been here; it took Jesus to open our hearts and minds to recognize what was right in front our noses and join in. The reign of Christ began before the world began, and when Jesus was called to proclaim the good news, to heal the sick, befriend the outcasts of society, the reign became a reality for humanity. The reality for Christians today, looking back over the centuries, is that God became tangible in Jesus’ life of ministry and resurrection. The invitation extended to the disciples to and followers is now extended to us, challenging us to continue the revolution in hearts and minds and discover the truth that lies within, here, in each of us.

We ended the Christian year yesterday, and a season of preparation, Advent, is before us. We have an opportunity to prepare ourselves for the Truth of an eternal life of unconditional love, of a place in the Kingdom of God that the King of our hearts, Jesus, invites us to embrace.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!

Ellen+

What Kind of Question is That???

2007-11-12T10:46:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's Gospel goes into my "What, are you nuts???" column.

In Luke 20:27-38, Jesus is asked by the Pharisees about the resurrection, more particularly, what the married relationship would be in the eternal life, and they posit the situation of a widow who marries seven brothers in succession and remains childless. The Pharisees want to know whose wife is she?

Now, if someone had asked me this question, I would have rolled my eyes and asked, "What are you nuts???" Fortunately, Jesus responded with a bit more grace and tact. He tells his detractors that it doesn't matter in the new life after the resurrection, for our states are not earthly. There is no marriage, no earthly rules or norms. All are like angels and children of God. The God of Abraham, Issac and Jacob is the God of the living, not the dead, for to God all are living.

Perhaps Jesus is saying that the one relationship we should hold dear is our relationship with God.

In our human lives, relationships are important. They sustain us, support us, in one sense, keep us going. These relationships might be of friends, not just family, our connection with pets. But what are these compared to the relationship we nurture and build with God? Again, they are very important, but without our relationship with God, I believe they can be stagnant, for where but the love given to us by God do we find the strength and courage to love?

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

Kingdom of God 101

2007-11-12T10:04:00.000-08:00

The Gospel for our commemoration of All Saints on November 4th was Luke 6:2o-31, the Beatitudes. My image of this event in the life of Christ and the Church is one of those MGM-cinematic moments: a pastoral setting, lush greenery, thousands upon thousands of people crowded around Jesus to hear him preach, birds and creatures coming near.

What if the setting was actually somewhere in the Judean desert or hills, one of those hiding places the Jews used to meet away from the prying eyes of the Romans? What if it was a political manifesto for a movement? Just think how revolutionary it sounds: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled."

Jesus was preaching something quite revolutionary for the time. In preaching this unique idea that all are welcome and part of the kingdom of Heaven, he was turning the norm of society upon its head. The society in which Jesus lived was one where the poorest of the poor were ignored, stepped over as they begged in the streets; the only people treated with less cordiality and compassion were those unfortunates called lepers.

Imagine how the Temple authorities must have reacted when they heard this new line of thinking. It was nothing like everything they ever thought, believed and were taught.

I like to think of the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Plain (or Mount, if you're reading Matthew) as Kingdom of God 101. Within this beautiful homily Jesus sets down what the Kingdom of God should be and tells us how to be a part of it, with compassion, love and a bit of sarcastic humor, I think.

Looking at this scripture through a lens of two thousand odd years, it's still an excellent rule of life. In a time when corporations are spending hours on drafting mission statements to define their work and purpose, they need only look this far.

The Ladies of the Parish

2007-10-30T07:48:00.000-07:00

Sunday's gospel comes from Luke 18:9-14. Again, the players are from different ends of the social spectrum. We have the Pharisee, wealthy, educated, of high social standing, and the tax collector - even by today's standards, not a popular person. Both enter the temple to pray, but what a disparity of prayer!

The Pharisee wails loudly that he's not like other people - the unclean and unwanted of first century Palestine: theives, rogues, adulterers and tax collectors; he fasts twice a week and gives a tenth of his income. Wow, I'm impressed. And then there's the tax collector, who, knowing his unpopularity, his less than perfect existence, without even looking up towards the heavens, beats his breast and declares that he is a sinner and begs for mercy.

Who is more worthy of God's mercy?

Well, both are. All people are worthy of God's love and mercy - we just have to ask for it. What Jesus is teaching here, I believe, is how we go about asking for it. A little bit of humility goes a long way.

This parable reminds me of my days as a choir director in a local church when I was eighteen. I remember the women who entered the church perfectly coiffed, dressed to the nines, handbag on arm, cookie cutter models of Jacqueline Kennedy and Queen Elizabeth, Princess Grace. Everyone looked up from their devotions when they entered in turn, then quickly averted their eyes. As they took their places up in front on the pulpit side, they would glance around as if to make sure everyone saw them and then they'd make theatrical motions and knee to say their petitions and rosaries, and before rising off the kneelers, they'd look around again.

By contrast, there was a widow with seven children who used to take up the front pew on the epistle side. She'd come in late, the children running behind, most of them dirty-faced with runny noses, threadbare clothes - unusual in the Sixties, in a town that prospered. Even the parish priest used to cluck his tongue at this family and wonder why she bothered.

"All who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

I know that the socially-prominent women of the parish gave a lot of money and time to the church and that the parish priest often went to dinner at their houses and showed preference at coffee hour. The widow, on the other hand, disappeared after coffee hour, usually taking a handful of cookies with her in a paper napkin. People watched her go and never said a word.

I wish now that I had had the courage to ask the widow how she was getting on, and if she needed help with anything, even babysitting. I guess I was afraid of losing the good will of the Ladies of the Parish. You see, that mother and her children were so much like my family - a single parent in a time when single parents weren't commonplace, and when it was a disgrace to be on Welfare and get food stamps, and to have so many children you couldn't afford to care for. The difference was that the Ladies of the Parish knew me, knew my mother and all of her brood and said nothing to my face. They applauded my courage, my desire, they assumed, to pull myself up from my bootstraps.

What they didn't know then was that their opinion didn't mean anything to me then or now. I learned a lesson from that time of my life, right after my mother died, when I was a choir director in a small town parish. I learned that no matter who you are, or where you're from, God hears the prayers offered. How we offer them makes a difference to each other.

Persistence and Doughnuts

2007-10-26T12:09:00.000-07:00

Persistence is the key to the texts this week. Jacob persists in his wrestling match with the mysterious stranger; Paul encourages Timothy to keep at it; the widow persists in her quest to obtain what is rightfully hers and succeeds. And there is the persistence of Nicolas, my youngest son, and it is with his consent that I share this story.

On that horrible September night last year, when Celia was struck by that light rail train, and as we kept vigil at our sister and daughter’s bedside as she hovered between this world and the next, and wondered if she would make it through the night or leave us, I sent Carlos Raphael and Nick to their grandmother’s at two in the morning. Before we said goodbye, I asked the boys to pray that Celia would make it through the night. Happily, she did, and when my mother-in-law called the next morning, she told me that Nick had said that God listened to his prayer – his sister was still alive. “But, Grandma Kate,” he said, “I also prayed for doughnuts.”

My mother-in-law asked what she should do. “Get him the doughnuts,” I answered. “And tell him not to press his luck by asking for pizza.”

He asked for pizza; he didn’t get it. But that wasn’t God’s will – it was Mom’s.

What I love about these four stories is the element of perseverance, of persistence in prayer and right action, and how each comes from a place of either adversity or tragedy; how our acts of prayer give us the courage and strength to turn a situation around. But there are times when our prayers, we feel, go unanswered and perhaps we feel cheated, we may think God needs a little nudge, a tug on the sleeve, sort of, “Hey, Lord, did you hear me? I believe in you; I love you; now, how about it?”

Look at Jacob wrestling all night with the angel. “Let me go, for the day is breaking!” cries the stranger. Jacob replies, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” We know blessing is a big thing for Jacob; it’s what got him into his present circumstance. He continues and prevails. He has struggled against Esau, Laban and God; the blessing he finally receives and his new name are testimony that he is ready to assume his place as the inheritor of the Divine promise to Abraham.

The Gospel gives us another example of persistence. Two people as different as night and day, from different ends of the spectrum of society, a corrupt judge and a widow, in a combat of wills. He wants nothing better than the widow just go away and stop hounding him every afternoon; she only wants what is rightfully hers. He relents, but it is out of self-interest – the original Greek text suggests that the judge feared a “black-eye” – he does not want his reputation sullied. Persistence in the pursuit of justice finally wins; the powerless triumph over the powerful.

Jesus tells us that if an unjust judge can bestow justice, how much more will God grant justice to those crying out to him day and night? The author of Luke is advising the impatient church, sure that the end time and Jesus’ return are past due, to hang in there, to keep praying. So Timothy is reminded to be steadfast, and be ready to endure trials and suffering as he strives to complete his ministry as an evangelist.

For reasons known only to God, we sometimes pray and those prayers are not answered; or, we get puzzling answers - answers that lead to clarity of purpose and reason and after reflection, it’s the answer we need at the time. Jesus calls us to be persistent, whether we ask for peace, for healing, for understanding - or even doughnuts.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.

Ellen+

What Goes Around . . .

2007-10-05T19:01:00.000-07:00

This last Sunday's gospel tells us that our actions on Earth will be an indication of how we'll be treated, or expect to be treated in the Hereafter. The parable is about the Rich man and Lazarus -- not the Lazarus who was a friend of Jesus and the brother of Mary and Martha, the Lazarus raised from the dead before the Passion, but Lazarus the poor, sick man who lay outside the great house of the Rich Man waiting for a scrap of food from his table. Lazarus was covered with sores, so one can safely assume he wasn't a pretty sight -- the neighborhood dogs would stop by to lick his wounds. We don't know how long Lazarus lay outside the house, but he died and was taken by angels to be with Abraham. I imagine the scene in Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Little Princess" when Sarah wakes and discovers that her attic bedroom has been turned into a comfortable little nest full of warm and soft things, good food and a fire in the hearth. Sarah probably thought she'd gone to heaven. Not so for the Rich Man. He was buried and his soul went to Hell, where he suffered. Seeing Lazarus beside Abraham, the Rich Man implores Abraham to let Lazarus put a drop of water on his parched tongue, but Abraham will have none of it and tells him that a chasm is between them, placed there undoubtedly because of the Rich Man's lack of compassion and regard for others. Fearful for his brothers still living, the Rich Man asks that they be warned to amend their lives so that they will not suffer his fate; Abraham replies that they should listen to Moses and the prophets. The Rich Man continues to beg and Abraham ends their conversation by stating that if they will not heed the lessons and messages of Moses and the prophets, they certainly won't believe a man risen from the dead.

Good advice.

How much time out of a busy day does it take to help out at a soup kitchen or pantry, a hot meal program? An hour, maybe two -- the time spent working out at the gym or working late at the office. Our lives are so hectic, so plugged-in, so scheduled that we value every single free moment we have, and rightfully so. But here's an idea: Why not take one of those busy days out of the month to help someone less fortunate than yourself? And may I suggest that you do it not to win brownie points with God but to improve someone's day, if only for a moment. Those moments add up and you might find yourself looking at the world a little differently, seeing that the Kingdom of Heaven is a place where no one has to lie outside a rich man's house for table scraps, or a drop of water, but all are treated with the same respect and dignity, where equality comes before wealth.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.

Ellen+

If You Can't Find Good News, Make It

2007-09-27T14:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but last Sunday's gospel scripture was sick and twisted. Jesus, aware that the Pharisees and Scribes are within earshot, offers up a parable about a crooked employee who tries to get in good with others so he can sustained his way of life when the employer fires him for mismanagement. He gets the employer's tenants to cut their bills by substantial amounts and "cooks the books." The employer is impressed, and if you gloss over the text, you get the feeling that Jesus is, too.

Frankly, I don't think Jesus really condoned such nasty behavior. Perhaps he was impressed by the employee's use of foresight and the clarity of his actions. He tells his disciples, then, and now, that we ought to use the same when considering our possessions and how we might best use them for the advantage of all.

Jesus goes on to say that one cannot serve two masters; we have to choose between God and wealth. I can't help feeling that each one of us is struggling with that problem of 21st century life. How do we honor God and live out the Gospel when we're crammed into cubicles with our eyes glued to a monitor and our ears stuck to phone receivers from nine to five?

Here's an idea - use what you have wisely and with stewardship of Creation in mind. You cannot serve God and wealth, but you can serve God with your wealth to make the world we live in more comfortable and more affordable, a place where we can all serve as best we can and live out the new commandment to love one another and let it happen for everyone who reaches out.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

The Kingdom of Heaven is Like . . . .

2007-09-20T10:51:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday's Gospel comes from Luke in the fifteenth chapter. Jesus is teaching the crowds, to which sinners and tax collectors have arrived and this is upsetting to the local authority, the Pharisees and scribes. How dare they, these sinful people, join good, law-abiding citizens in hearing the teaching of Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth? Religion is for the good people, not sinners like tax collectors and prostitutes, actors, and women!

Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!

What is important to God, Jesus says, is one repentant soul.

He goes on to tell the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin. Parables are stories used to teach, using the familiar. "The Kingdom of Heaven is like . . ." So Jesus tells the story of a shepherd who searches high and low for the one sheep that strays, the one that drifts apart from the herd and when he finds the sheep, he brings it home and calls his friends and family to celebrate.

Big deal, you think. One out of many.

Well, it is a big deal.

All the other sheep are following along, behaving properly, staying out of harm's way. But there's the one who stands out for all the wrong reasons - misbehaving, not getting the rules. So imagine how great it is that the sheep is found and brought back to the fold where it will be cared for and loved just as much as all the others. That's what the Kingdom of Heaven is like, says Jesus, it is a place where anyone can come out of the cold and be welcomed into a loving and accepting community.

Church isn't just for the good. When I was a little girl, I thought all the good people were those who went to church; I mean, they had to be good, right? They went to church and so it just made sense.

Good people do go to church - it's where people learn to be good the way God wants us to be good. It's also the place where people who have problems, where brokeness and pain can be healed, where we learn to love and be loved, where we reach out and are touched, where we can fall and know someone will help us up.

People sometimes call me good and I always am amazed at this. If I was truly good, I'd have no reason for salvation; there would be no reason for that messy death 2,000 years ago that started to turn hearts and minds around. No, I am human with moments of goodness and when I falter, I know that the shepherd will come and find me and bring me back to the family, or the housewife will sweep the corner where I've hidden and pick me up and polish me so that I gleam like all the new coins in the box.

You see, the Kingdom of Heaven is like that.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

Familial Relations

2007-09-10T17:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's gospel was tough, wasn't it?

Jesus' message from Luke 14:25-33 holds no punches. "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple."

Wait a minute . . . doesn't that contradict the new commandment he gives at the last supper, that we love one another as Jesus loves us?

Jesus is talking about the cost of discipleship. Sometimes it can be very painful and moves us out of our comfortable, warm and snuggly spaces.

Think of being a disciple today.

How many people do you know that live out the Gospel, or at least give it the 'college try'?

The framework for discipleship is to surrender oneself completely to God and to move out of the command post. We have this gift that's call free will and we have to let it go in order to go where Christ calls us.

Remember the story of the wealthy young man who came to Jesus asked what he needed to do to inherit eternal life? Jesus told him to sell everything he had and then he could follow him. Jesus probably knew this was something near impossible to the young man; perhaps he wanted a reaction. The young man went away sorrowfully and Jesus then proclaimed that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man get into heaven.

Is Jesus asking the impossible of us?

Well, think about what he's asking - read between the lines.

Put God first before your children, your spouse, your friends, your pets. Love God and the love you receive in turn radiates to all that you love and becomes strong, a life force. Love God and you have the capacity to love others.

Once you love God you have the will and power to follow Christ and undertake whatever ministry he offers.

I don't think Christ truly wants us to hate our families and friends, but he does want us to stay focused. I really do think that I am capable of love and ministry because I love God and try my best every day to share it and return it.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.

Ellen+

Set Another Place at the Table . . .

2007-09-03T22:41:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.

I wasn't really paying attention to the sermon yesterday - I plead guilty of keeping my eye on the congregation, watching the acolytes step out and not come back in until the middle of the homily. I do remember the rector stating that there are moments in life when we can't believe we said something, or did something, and it sticks with us forever. Little social gaffs. The scripture from the Gospel yesterday was Luke 14:1-13, the Parable of the Great Dinner. Jesus advises dinner guests not to take the best places, the ones near the host, the ones above the salt, for to do that is to call attention to one's self and importance; rather, take a lower seat and let the host bring you to a place of honor. He also tells the host that when he throws a dinner party not to invite family and friends, those who can repay the kindness, but invite the poor and unwanted, people who cannot offer payment in kind.

I don't throw a lot of dinner parties, but I do make social blunders - I stick my foot in my mouth up to the kneecap at times. I remember my first night in CPE at San Francisco General. I was in the ER and making rounds and I kept passing by a bed where a young man was sitting up, watching me like a hawk. I finally felt his eyes burning into my back and I approached him, saying, "You look pretty well; how're you feeling?" The young man frowned and said, "I'm in this bed, how do you think I'm feeling?" I kept stumbling over my words and I was about ready to ask if he wanted a prayer when I noticed a ring of black soot around his mouth - charcoal infusion used to absorb drugs and poisons in overdose cases. I started to say all the stupid things I wouldn't want said to me, "Well, at least you're here," "God had a plan for you," "How are you really" - I just couldn't shut up. I finally bowed away gracefully, I thought, and when I was almost out the door the young man called me back and there I was, hands in pocket, face staring at my clogs, when he said, "Thanks. You're the first person today that has actually cared about me and shown it. Don't worry about it. At least you cared to stop by and ask me what the hell was I thinking."

No, I didn't ask him that. But I was thinking that. I've never forgotten that moment, either. And what does this story have to do with table manners and guests?

We are all invited to the table regardless of what we choose to do with our lives, or where we are in our lives. Jesus also asks us to invite those who live on the edges of society to our tables. Nowadays, that's pretty risky, but I think my parish steps up to that challenge by hosting a meal once a month for the hungry of Berkeley. We invite the poor and unwanted to our spiritual and faith home and I think that's what Jesus would want. When we reach out to those in need, no matter how awkwardly we do it, that is also something Jesus would have us do.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+

Ministry in God's Own Time

2007-08-18T21:56:00.000-07:00

I've been wondering about the myth of the "Super Mom" lately. I also have been wondering if the person who started the trend was a working mother or knew one.

I have resigned my tights and cape, the color coordinated boots, and no longer am a member of the League of So-Called Super Heroes, choosing instead to take life one crisis or event at a time, to open my eyes and heart to other possibilities and ways of being a complete person.

What! You cry; how selfish! What about the kids' soccer games, the piano lessons, the pencilled-in play dates, ferrying the tykes around from after school appointment to after school appointment? What about writing that proposal? Getting that brief proof read? Making that conference call, all while cooking a three course meal - following the receipe from Martha Stewart Living, of course?

What about it?

That's not me, that's not my life. My children have never been scheduled, programmed or ferried about. And I don't believe they have suffered for it. They are sensitive, loving and imaginative people - the kind I would have as my friends.

The necessity to have an income has forced me to keep a secular job and around the family and the job I have tried to undertake the ministry God has entrusted to me at this time. I've found it near impossible to do.

Yet, I haven't given up.

It came to me right before I fell asleep last night that my problem was a human one - I was thinking of ministry in chronos, rather than kairos. Now I am in another phase of discernment; how best to undertake ministry while pinned down to a desk job from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.; how to undertake ministry and still take time for parent/teacher conferences, school events, and the most important, family time, and yes, time for myself.

I'm going to experiment with a ministry in God's own time: find ways to offer my time and talent to God in the service of others and still keep that desk job that pays the rent and buys the groceries.

I've taken the first step - I've written this to you; I've told you that I can't do everything, but I still am compelled to serve the people of God for God. There is good news here - God can be a part of any working person's life, a whole and complete part, not a pencilled-in appointment in a datebook.

Watch this space as I share with you what is revealled to me through scripture and prayer, spiritual revelations.

Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,

Ellen+