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+
31 December, 2007
25 December, 2007
Father Figure
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+
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+
20 December, 2007
Are You the One?
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+
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+
09 December, 2007
In Your Face Theology
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+
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+
04 December, 2007
Watching and Waiting . . .
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+
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+
26 November, 2007
King of Kings, and Lord of Lords
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+
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+
12 November, 2007
What Kind of Question is That???
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+
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
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.
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.
30 October, 2007
The Ladies of the Parish
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.
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.
26 October, 2007
Persistence and Doughnuts
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+
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+
05 October, 2007
What Goes Around . . .
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+
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+
27 September, 2007
If You Can't Find Good News, Make It
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+
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+
20 September, 2007
The Kingdom of Heaven is Like . . . .
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+
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+
10 September, 2007
Familial Relations
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+
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+
03 September, 2007
Set Another Place at the Table . . .
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+
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+
18 August, 2007
Ministry in God's Own Time
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+
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+
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