Tenebrae

Being Episcopalian, it is no wonder that I love the once yearly service of Tenebrae. It is one of those now rare occasions where Episcopal clergy don our black and white cassocks and surplices instead of our white albs. It is a service of contemplation and candlelight; chiaroscuro and completion.

The sanctuary lights are dimmed and the 15 candles on the altar are lit. As the service progresses, the candles are gradually extinguished, one by one. The tension in my "Holy Week shoulders" begins to subside as the lessons are read and the candles are blown out. My heart softens. The Psalms help me cry out to God; they allow me glimmers of insight into my own brokenness. The soft voices of those in the congregation respond to a series of rich antiphons and versicles. My heart softens some more.

Then it comes: Lauds. Antiphon 10:

God did not spare his own Son, but delivered him up for us all.

And the congregation responds softly with Psalm 63, intoning:

O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you,

My soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,

as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.

And I recognze my own need for living water; my own thirst.

When the Psalm concludes, that antiphon once again:

God did not spare his own Son, but delivered him up for us all.

And I realize, in one flicker of candle light, not only how thirsty I've been, but how delivered I am.

And I am restored.

Color in the desert

An early spring snow. I woke to the cardinal singing; protesting the white landscape after a week of nest building in a greening yard. I rolled over. There he was, a beacon of red. Protesting.

Red in startling contrast to a monochromatic landscape; a mere sign of dissonance in a snow blanketed morning. Not unlike Jesus: dissonant, overturning tables in a monochromatic world.

Do we notice him? Do we see the red blood? Or are we more comfortable with black and white?

Do I roll over and retreat under the soft down of my comforter and try to grab a few more minutes of sleep? Or do I rise and feed the birds?

Silence

Silence is an endangered commodity. In the middle of the night, my Smartphone groans downstairs on the kitchen counter as an e-mail arrives, or an update becomes available. I hear it -- whispering into the darkness, "Droid," its electronic voice intoning if only to remind me that I am tethered to the electronic world even as I try to sleep. When I creep downstairs before dawn, I put on a ski parka and slippers to go out onto the porch to sniff a new day's air and to capture the silence of a new day. I try to listen to the roots of the trees flexing their toes, getting ready to send out new shoots, but already the train is idling at the station several blocks away -- waiting to transport people to their various daily obligations. It's low hum is comforting. Three squirrels scramble over the still naked branches of the elm tree, scolding each other, and flipping their tails in challenge. Chilled, I go inside, greeted by the coffee maker's grumbles, as it brings forth the morning coffee. The radio goes on upstairs, the shower bursts into action. The noise of a new day, and I rue the fact that I have missed the still small voice of God yet again.

Bullies

I have a parishioner whose daughter is being bullied at school. The child has kind of brushed it off and doesn't want her parents to interfere, lest the bullying escalate. Many kids respond that way. But the thing is, even though bullying has always happened, it seems to have escalated in recent years. I don't remember the details, but I remember a news item several years ago about a mother making up a false e-mail or MySpace account in order to "cyber-bully" one of her own daughter's rivals. The object of her cyber-bullying ultimately committed suicide.

Bullying is about power. The power to take another human being down a notch. Power to convince ourselves (and others) that we are powerful -- especially when we are feeling particularly insecure or power-less. Co-workers can bully. Teachers can bully. Parents can bully. It's tragic when a child comes to us with stories of being bullied, but its almost more egregious when adults bully each other. We should know better. We should have learned.

Have you caught yourself at it? It can be so subtle: Just planting the seed of doubt in another human being's mind. Just that subtle. Or holding your power over a person's grades or paycheck, or tenure, or promotability. Causing another human being to feel insecure or "less than" is a subtle bullying tactic.

Lent is a time to take stock of our own lives. Its a time to look at our own behaviors and attitudes and to examine what might need the cleansing breath of Christ to shine a light on our own motives for doing what we do. Do we really "respect the dignity of every human being" or are there those who we just can't resist "putting in their place?" As we shed ourselves and take on the light of Christ, not only will our own need for power decrease, our confidence will increase in the Lord. We will no longer need to prove our value (or our worth) to the world. Then we will truly be transformed in Christ.

Pray that the peace of Christ, which surpasses all our understanding, will guard our hearts and our minds in the coming days. And bullies? Back off!

Perhaps he has a point?

Theologically, this gave me pause........

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HGnTBvLrT8

Authenticity

This Lent, I can't seem to shake what I call a ho-hum attitude. There’s a sense that I’m merely treading water – a sense that the spark has gone out of my prayer. Where's the magic? Where's the perfection I feel when I feel utterly enveloped by God? I like that feeling of perfection. I crave mountaintop prayer -- but it's so elusive. I remember my old CPE supervisor telling me “Sometimes adequate is good enough.” Is “adequate” prayer “good enough?” I'm uncomfortable with this idea, but I'm being drawn into it -- because this "adequate" prayer feels somehow authentic. I don;t feel as though I am striving. I am resting – lying fallow.

There’s a comfort and a familiarity that I am resting in, like old friends catching up. It feels like Jesus and I are back on a first name basis and there's an easiness to us – together – and that feels right. I walked into this meditation whining that my life feels ho-hum and my prayer life no longer feels injected with steroids. Maybe steroidal enthusiasm is not authentic.

Perhaps authenticity is God's gift to me this Lent.

Pay Attention

I was fortunate to visit Washington D.C. this winter when there was no snow on the ground. It was nippy, but I didn’t see any white stuff. One of the most compelling exhibitions I visited was the National Museum of the Holocaust. The museum is as haunting and moving as you might expect a Smithsonian Museum to be. It’s very well done, yet it kind of took the wind out of my sails, as places such as these do. With discomfort, I retrieved my coat from the coat check, and bundled myself up; on to the next attraction on my list. I was on my way out, on to the next sight, when I experienced a holy interruption -- god tapping me on the shoulder. I looked up -- and as plain as day, I saw it: a banner hanging way up high, well out of the normal line of sight. It read: “Think about what you saw.” I could have so easily missed it -- it was hanging up so high, the way banners do.

When I read it, I knew I was standing face to face with God. Those words spoke to me as directly as any I have ever heard. "Think about what you saw." I think these words are a rallying cry straight from God’s heart to our ears. The very essence of what we are called to be and do for Christ. We are called not to be so distractedly running through life that we miss what’s directly in front of us. We are called not to be so busily fighting for a parking place at the mall that we miss the homeless man sitting on the bench.

“Think about what you saw,” the sign said. Isn’t that where we and God meet each other? Where we all intersect? That is the Incarnation -- when humankind meets God face to face – alive in the world.

• When we think about poverty and are moved to respond, that is holy ground.
• When we think about malaria and are moved to send malaria nets, that is holy ground.
• When we think about children being deprived of an education and send uniforms, that is none other than God tapping us on the shoulder, and saying, “Think.”

There is so much we don’t see, like the words Laus Deo at the top of the Washington Monument, but they are there. But there is so much we do see... and ignore. God calls us to trust in that which we don’t see, and to think and respond to what we do see. In that way, it seems to me, we live into that to which we have been called: to be God’s hands and feet in the world.

A Child is Born

What wondrous thing is this, oh my soul, oh my soul.

What wondrous thing is this, oh my soul.

February 13th, our youngest son, Alex and his wife Emily delivered their firstborn son, making us grandparents for the first time. I've always wondered about folks who would place that bumper sticker "Ask me about my grandchildren" on their cars. I mean, what's the big deal? Yet, seeing my grandson for the first time took my breath away. There is something we all need to be reminded about in the Christmas story: new life. Possibilities. Breathtaking possibilities. The Spirit of God dwelling among us.

During the announcements at church on Sunday, I just blurted out, "Our grandson was born last night!" The congregation erupted in applause. People kept telling me that I was bubbling all morning. And, with God's incredible grace, I had a baptism to do at our third service. Another little boy.

New Life. What wondrous thing is this?

Amen.

Abandoning Perfection

“O Lord you are my portion and my cup; it is you who uphold my lot. My boundaries enclose a pleasant land ……” Psalm 16:7-8

This line has been poking at my heart and mind since I prayed this psalm last week. What is God asking me to look at? I became conscious of the need to review my goals, to see if they still were relevant. I have needed affirmation (for a long time) that I am doing parochial pastoral care “right.” Right – not WRONG. I've needed to know the care I offer is not “merely adequate” but actually top of the line pastoral care.

This week, a subtle shift occurred. I understood all at once that this desire for “perfection” is unattainable because it cannot be measured. That begged the question – if I didn’t give up my quest for “that perfect visit” -- the perfect delivery of perfect pastoral care -- would I always live in quiet desperation?

What if I set aside the quest for “perfection” and replaced it with “competency? ” A subtle shift, but a profound one for me. Could that be satisfying? I'm living that question right now. Competency - and how that feels. So, how does this feel? It is a presence I have in my work that feels like it’s a good fit. Like a familiar pair of old loafers or your favorite sweater. Where have I felt this familiarity before? What is this feeling of well being? Optimism?

Then it came to me. It feels like when I pray. When Jesus and I are back on a first name basis after I’ve been away for awhile. There’s a comfort and a familiarity that I can rest in. It’s like old friends catching up. There’s an easiness to us – together – that I call being “right with God.” And how good that feels!

And it feels authentic. Not pride filled, not boastful, just authentic. And Id rather have authenticity than perfection any day.

School Uniforms

.

$12.00 = one school uniform for a child

Did you know that while some third world "public" schools are free, many children are prevented from attending because they cannot afford to purchase the required school uniform? Or that every year, 75 million children are not in school -- 2/3s of them girls?

This fall, the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago, Jeffrey Lee, decided to do something about that. He challenged every Episcopalian in the diocese to purchase one school uniform for $12. Monies donated will go to Episcopal Relief and Development (er-d.org) who will ensure that children can attend school.

If you donate a uniform, you will receive a gift card suitable for gift giving. The card announces that a uniform has been donated in the recipient's name. The cards are available through me. All proceeds will be directed to Episcopal Relief and Development.

Donate here.

Who are They?

The New Emergents

They are Christo-centric, not Church-centric. They're holistic, earthy, incarnational and relational. They seek to practice what Phyllis Tickle calls “radical obedience” to Jesus’ ways. In other words, they believe that Jesus meant what he said.

The Emergents believe Jesus and the 1^st century church are worth emulating. They are not intimidated or impressed by ecclesiastical hierarchy, and they're not distracted by the “holiness” (or assumed holiness) and privilege of clergy.

Perhaps Jesus was the first Emergent. He entered a world where hierarchical Judaism was at war with itself, split between varying sects of Pharisees and the Sadducees, some who were obsessed with Temple rituals and obeying the 613 Mosaic Laws, and another group following the teachings of Rabbi Hillel, who embraced the idea that how our hearts are is more important in God’s eyes than all the Mosaic Laws. In her new book, A Case for God, Karen Armstrong contends that Jesus embraced this new gospel of radical compassion. She writes,

“[Jesus] was asking his disciples for commitment. He wanted disciples who would engage with his mission, give all they had to the poor, feed the hungry, refuse to be hampered by family ties, abandon their pride, lay aside their self-importance, and sense of entitlement, live like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, and trust in the God who was their father.”

Emergents in the 21^st century embrace this Way. They entered a spiritual desert pockmarked by warring factions of Christians and simply sought Jesus. They are more apt to find Jesus in the world than in a church. They see Jesus in the faces of the poor, the sick and the marginalized. They wonder whether “program based” churches only want what their demographic represents, and are not really interested in their spiritual journeys. Captivated by the ancient, Emergents long for the simplicity of the first century house churches. They study source texts such as The Didache, The Bible, Justin’s First Apology and Augustine’s Confessions to recover authentic Church. Lastly, they seek to emulate "church" as it was before it was polluted by politics and by “the Institution.”

---

Speaking of Avatars

Modernity into Post – Modernity

There are two terms being bandied about in theological circles: modernism and post-modernism. We hear that we live in a “post-modern world” which would cause many folks to ask, “What was the modern world then, if we have already entered a post-modern world?” As we try to grasp the concept of Emerging church, we need to understand these terms.

Modernism brought with it reason, optimism, universality, and objectivity. In America, it was a natural response to our collective loss of innocence during the traumas of two world wars. Modernists embraced normalcy and assimilation. We embraced science as a provable, rational way to solve our problems, as in: “There’s a pill for that.” In modernity, we embraced sameness, and encouraged our children and newcomers to “fit in” and to live and dress like the Cleavers. We celebrated being collectively white and middle class. Mystery was out; reason was in. Foreign was out, American was in. Spirituality was out, science was in.

Post-modernity, to risk an over-simplification, is essentially the antithesis of modernity. If modernity was vanilla ice cream, post-modernity is cappuccino macadamia nut frozen yogurt. Mysticism – to post moderns – is enjoying a renaissance. Traditions from other cultures and from bygone eras are embraced and adapted for Christian use. (Icons, prayer beads, Sufi wisdom literature, and labyrinths are examples.) Recovering our ethnic backgrounds and bringing them to the common pot brings a rich deep flavor to a community. In addition, the post-modern church is becoming technologically savvy. Several mainline denominations are investing serious money in virtual reality worlds. Today, we can attend regularly scheduled worship services online at Anglican Cathedral in a virtual world known as Second Life.

The question becomes: Can an online priest absolve the confessed sins of an avatar?

---