Waiting for the Angels

Join me for Lent at a new blog

2011-03-08T09:07:00.001-08:00

This year, I am inviting the people of Calvary Church to share the prayers, poems, and moments from their lives that have taught them how to trust God. Beginning tomorrow, and for each of the 40 days of Lent, I’ll post thoughts from one or more of our members online at a new blog: calvarytrusts.blogspot.com. I hope you'll join us for the journey.

The beauty of the lilies

2010-04-03T05:58:00.000-07:00

Last night, I sat and drank in the sweetness of our love for Jesus. At the children's service, I was fed by the honest curiosity of the children's questions about Jesus and their wide-eyed silence as I blessed their hands. At the later service, the haunting a capella anthems, the rough-voiced eloquence of our preacher's faith, and the understated devotion of a small band of disciples in prayer all brought God close enough to touch. I said with Jesus, "It is finished." It was truly a good Friday.

Through it all, the smell of the Easter lilies filled the church. Even as we said farewell, I could feel Jesus coming. A new day, a new life starts now.

In "April" from his book "A Child's Calendar," John Updike writes:

All things renew.
All things begin.
At church, they bring
the lilies in.

Walking away

2010-04-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

In Ursula K. Le Guin's allegorical tale, the people of Omelas live in perfect happiness. When young people come of age, he or she is taken to a dark room to see the one broken individual who suffers for their sake. "This is necessary," the elders say. "Her suffering makes our happiness possible." Once they know the secret cost of their comforts, they are considered adults. Most find a way to live with what they have seen. A few decide that the price of happiness, this constant knowledge that they are the cause of another's pain, is too high to bear. They walk away.

On this holy day, we honor Jesus' loving sacrifice of his life on the cross. We take the time to remember exactly what he endured for his unwavering commitment to the truth of God's love. But I believe that Jesus does not want us just to look at him with tears and gratitude. He wants us to look through him and see in him all the people who hurt in this world. Let our grief and compassion be for them, the ones who endure pain because of our wrong choices and the ones who willingly bear hardships to make our lives better. Let us imagine a better way and change our lives to help create a world they will suffer and sacrifice no more. Let us walk away into the new hope of Easter.

April Fools

2010-04-01T04:21:00.000-07:00

On this holy night, the disciples gather to eat the Passover meal. It is a time to celebrate freedom, as they thank God for leading their people out of slavery.

Very soon, however, their own freedom comes to an end. Jesus is arrested. His followers deny him and go into hiding to save themselves.

Sometimes life feels like a series of mean tricks, each success followed by a new crisis. Jesus asks us to believe that the trick is not on us but on the destructive forces of our world. Beyond every harsh reality, there will be an unexpected and beautiful surprise. After arrest, true freedom. After sin, forgiveness and love. After suffering, healing. After despair, boundless hope. After death, everlasting life.

To a cynical world, our faith may seem unrealistic. But it is founded on the deeper truth of God. Following Saint Paul, we are fools, but fools for Christ.

Last days

2010-03-31T11:06:00.000-07:00

My model for how to live, and how to die, is my grandfather, Alan Keith-Lucas. In his 86th and last year, he drove himself to a conference of Christian social workers and gave a challenging and inspiring talk. When he died, he had books on some of the newest issues in his field on his desk, waiting for his review. He was active and curious to the end.

This year we're reading our way through Luke, which is the one Gospel that stops to explain what Jesus was doing in between his grand entrance to Jerusalem and his arrest five days later. According to Luke, Jesus teaches daily in the temple, and becomes angry at the moneychangers who work there, earning an income as they help pilgrims make their offerings. Their services are necessary for the workings of the temple, which was an authentic and vital ritual center for the Jewish people. But Jesus wants the temple to be something more. Like other Jewish sects of his time, his followers want to create a small, intensive community that helps people change their lives. He calls for a "house of prayer", a place that meets the people's hunger for a deeper connection with God.

Jesus does not just go to Jerusalem to die. He comes to the city, the political and cultural center of his people's life, to teach and to try to make a change. Even in his last days, he is really living, using every moment to make a difference in the world.

Today's special

2010-03-30T13:20:00.000-07:00

In the Mother Goose and Grimm comic strip for March 29, a waitress asks, "Have you heard today's special?" The boxer dog Ralph replies, "Of course today's special. Every day's special if you approach life with the right attitude."

In the middle of my workday, I started wondering what to call this day. Sunday was Palm Sunday, and Thursday will be Maundy Thursday, so today is...? We are between feasts, in a short lull of almost-ordinary time. The liturgical calendar calls it "Tuesday in Holy Week," which is too much of a mouthful. I settled on "Holy Tuesday."

I need my Tuesdays to be made holy. My typical Tuesday is a day of too many little tasks and too much commuting (none of it pleasant in today's driving rain). I seem to be forever between jobs and places, not settled in one place long enough to enjoy it.

I want to see God's presence not just in each part of my life, but also in the times in between, the little moments of waiting or traveling that are so easy to overlook. This, too, is the day that God has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.

The choice

2010-03-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

One of the most interesting discussions I have had about the Bible was with a group of teens. We read together the story of Judas in Marked, Steve Ross' retelling of the Gospel of Mark as a graphic novel. I asked them: What is the turning point in this story? When does Judas cross over the point of no return? Some thought that, as soon Judas thought about turning Jesus in, he had left the circle of the disciples. His heart had turned, and the love was gone forever. Others insisted that he could have turned back right up to the very end, even at the moment he kissed Jesus in the garden, and made things right again. Then someone asked: was it really wrong for Judas to betray Jesus if that is what God planned for him to do?

The story of Jesus' death and rebirth is so powerful, so central to our faith, that we begin to think that it was all inevitable. Whatever happened was what had to happen.

This way of thinking confuses our judgment. We begin to rationalize away Judas' moral failure, in the same that we convince ourselves that so many great and small injustices are just how the world works, just the way things were meant to be. We lose sight of the reality that Judas made a free choice, and a wrong one.

God was strong enough to create compassion and new life in Jesus despite everything Judas and the others did. God is strong enough to keep creating life despite all the destructive choices we make. But it is up to us whether we will join God in creating goodness or place more obstacles in God's way. We have to choose for ourselves.

On a hill far away

2010-03-27T09:35:00.000-07:00

I just started reading Thomas Hardy's novel Jude the Obscure. In the opening scene, young Jude's schoolmaster is leaving town to pursue his dream of attending university and being ordained. When Jude stops to help with the moving, he notices that the current rector of their village has not come to see the teacher off, but has gone away for the day because he hates the sight of change. The other students are standing far off as well, like "certain historic disciples," not wanting to seem to enthusiastic about their teacher.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, he was surrounded by a curious and adoring crowd. The crowd follows him again on Good Friday, scorning him as he endures trial and execution. Then, when he has died, they want no more of this teacher and return home. Even his friends "stood at a distance, watching these things." (Luke 23:49).

Holy Week is a busy time at the church. There is much to do as we celebrate the high drama and deep symbolism of these great feasts. My prayer as we enter this special time is that we will not let the work of doing church distract us from what Jesus is teaching us. Let us not stand at a distance, watching these things, but come right up to sit at the feet of the master.

Stop. Look. Listen.

2010-03-26T10:08:00.000-07:00

I heard an interview with Daniel Menaker, who wrote the book "A Good Talk" about the art of having a conversation. He said that many animals can hear, but humans are unique in our ability to listen. Good conversationalists know how to invite people to speak, not to provide some necessary bit of information, but simply to share whatever they want from their own experiences. In a good talk, we hear a story we've never heard before. We learn something new.

For me, the practice of keeping Lent is about learning to listen. Each day is punctuated by the question: What is God speaking to my heart?

Here is a listening prayer I love. It's from the Terma Collective:

May my feet rest firmly on the ground. May my head touch the sky.
May I see clearly. May I have the capacity to listen.
May I be free to touch. May my words be true. May my heart and mind be open.
May my hands be empty to fill the need.May my arms be open to others.
May my gifts be revealed to me, so I may return that which has been given,
completing the great circle.

Mary's baby boy

2010-03-25T12:27:00.000-07:00

When I hear of a death, I so often find myself thinking "This was somebody's baby." The passing of a life reminds me of the joy and protective love someone felt when this child entered the world.

Now, a few days before we commemorate Christ's Passion, I find my imagination turning back to his nativity. Every year, the weeks between Christmas and Easter seem shorter. We welcome the baby Jesus, and then before we know it this child is a grown man setting out to meet his fate in Jerusalem.

Easter connects Jesus' life and death to forces far greater than any one man. He brings rebirth in springtime, just as the natural world is teeming with new life. He conquers death, restores God's vision for human history and makes all creation new. His actions reverberate through the cosmos. And yet, he is not a legend or image. He is a man. Just a man, so recently a baby boy in his parents' arms.

More than fair

2010-03-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Since members of our parish read William Young's The Shack together, many parts of that surprising and sometimes frustrating book have stayed with me. One that stand's out is Young's explanation of rights and relationships. His Creator figure tells us that we humans insist on protecting our rights because we don't know how to get what we need any other way. We're so bad at relationships that we need the structure of rights to keep us from hurting each other. If we really learned how to share in God's love, all those rules would fall away.

Even here in Massachusetts, home to a driving culture that borders on insanity, I notice that drivers do not always take the right of way. We have the rules to keep us safe, the many regulations that tell us who gets to drive on and who has to yield the way. But if heavy traffic or a tricky intersection keeps a person waiting a long time, eventually someone else stops and signals for them to go ahead. Just this morning, three people relinquished the right of way in order to help me, a total stranger, get where I needed to go.

Our relationships thrive when we are willing to be more than fair, to give up what is rightfully ours for the sake of our neighbors.

Peace and the sword

2010-03-23T13:30:00.000-07:00

The ancient hymn goes, "The strife is over, the battle done, the victory of life is won." There is a long tradition in our faith of seeing Jesus as a warrior locked in battle with sin and death. On Easter morning he emerges victorious, winning the war for the side of grace and life.

There is good reason to be cautious about this image. Over the centuries, many people have wrapped it around their own self-interest and their own hatreds, justifying terrible violence by claiming they fight on the side of Christ.

At the same time, I'm not ready to throw it out entirely. Every time I encounter suffering, I become more convinced that evil is a real and powerful force in our world. People struggle constantly to turn away from choices that cause pain and turn towards God's healing. When I feel unable to help, I find strength in the image of Jesus the peaceful warrior, facing down the forces of evil with courage and love. I want him to teach me to stay centered in the midst of chaos, skillfully turning aside every attempt to break the human spirit.

A little gift

2010-03-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

While we were out shopping today, it turned out there were all sorts of restrictions on the coupon I wanted to use. The cashier helpfully explained what to do, but it still took a while to check out. My son played patiently at my feet while we got it sorted out. As we headed out the door, a clerk caught up to us. My boy's eyes widened as he noticed the big rainbow superball in her outstretched hand. "She gave me a present!" he cried.

The cashier's face grew tense as she managed the store's rules, but the floor clerk who was allowed to give toys to children did her work with a beaming smile. For her book Nickel and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich took low-paying jobs to see whether people can really survive on our minimum wage. When she worked in a chain restaurant, she noticed that the waitresses rebelled against their highly regulated company by adding little extras to the food - a pat of butter, a swirl of whipped cream. These little acts of generosity allowed them to feel like the customers' friends rather than like faceless cogs in a food-serving machine. They needed to have something to give in order to feel truly human.

One of the most basic things we know about God is that God is generous, constantly pouring out unexpected beauty, power and love. Made in God's image, we all have this spirit of generosity imprinted in our hearts. To be fully ourselves, we need to find some way to give.

Sweet expectation

2010-03-20T12:53:00.000-07:00

Waiting can be so delicious. When we're hoping for something wonderful - a birth, a wedding, a new home, an adventure - we're full to the brim with the excitement of it.

It's easy to let the waiting of Lent turn into dread. We know we have a journey to take with Jesus. Palm Sunday and Good Friday are coming, and we will be called to bear witness to the the grief and outrage of the Passion story. The messages of sin and mortality weigh upon us. Sometimes in our faith journey that's where we need to be, walking the hard roads with Jesus so we can remember that he walks the hard parts of our lives with us.

This year, I'm finding that the waiting is sweeter. As I mark each day of this forty-day journey, I feel that much closer to the promise of Easter. Jesus is rising! Soon!

A new day

2010-03-19T12:03:00.000-07:00

We caught a little bit of the Simpsons the other night. After seeing an ad for a ballet school on TV, Marge turns to Lisa and asks cheerfully, "Did I ever show you my Box of Shattered Dreams? It's upstairs in my Closet of Disappointments."

From the cross, with his dying breath, Jesus says, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." He says this not just for the soldiers or the jeering crowd. He says it for us. He teaches us that his story is not about the people who hurt him and the way his vision of peace was shattered. His story moves forward, accepting what has passed and creating something new.

If one of the kids has a hard day, a preschool teacher we know makes a point of saying goodbye carefully when it's time to go home. She gets down low, looks in the child's eyes, and says, "Today is all done. We'll try again tomorrow." They leave whatever has happened behind and finish the day with a hug or a high-five. Sometimes I think of her as I go to bed, hoping to completely let go of this day and try it all again tomorrow.

Ups and downs

2010-03-18T12:24:00.000-07:00

The sun came out this week and suddenly everyone has more energy. We think of ourselves as constants, but it's amazing how little it takes to alter our outlook on life. I notice the effect of being early or late by just a few minutes, losing or gaining a few dollars, hearing one positive or negative remark. Psychologists have discovered that it only takes a few subtle cues to make us more anxious or more confident.

We are so changeable, and we have a habit of confusing our emotions with God's. We feel open and energized one day, and so we believe that God is a positive force in our lives. We feel tired and irritable another day, so we decide that God is distant and judgmental.

This is why we need the discipline of regular worship and prayer. If we come to God over and over, in our good moods and our bad ones, we can begin to see past our own ups and downs. We can start to experience the true constancy of God, whose love is patient and abiding. As we swoop up and down the roller coaster of life, God forms the track underneath, never letting us go.

Unexpected teachers

2010-03-17T10:31:00.000-07:00

There is a wonderful moment that comes sometimes during the process of preparing for a funeral. I ask the family to tell me about the person who has died, and they usually start out by telling me her best qualities. And someone in the circle will pause, and smile, and say, "Well, she was certainly her own person..." and proceed to tell me some outlandish or maddening thing she liked to do. Then the deceased person suddenly feels alive again, like her spirit is right there in the room with us.

We are each blessed with a few people in our lives who are very much themselves, with unique personalities that delight us and drive us crazy. In my experience, these are some of our best teachers.

God's greatest desire, I believe, is for each of us to be whole. We were imprinted in creation with the glorious image of God, but each of our personalities can only express a small part of who God is. We encounter new aspects of God in each other, in the gifts that challenge or complement our own. If we let them, the people who are most different from us are the ones who can help our spirits stretch and open to whole new ways of knowing God.

Beyond knowing

2010-03-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

Human beings are so wonderfully mysterious. We can love someone dearly and still have no idea what's going on inside their heads. Perhaps when we learn to love God, who is truly beyond all understanding, it can help us to accept the other things we do not know.

Quite by accident, I came across this lovely poem by the 14th-century Sufi poet Hafiz:

I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question: How are you?

I have a thousand brilliant lies for the question: What is God?

If you think that the Truth can be known from words,
If you think that the Sun and the Ocean
Can pass through that tiny opening called the mouth,

O someone should start laughing!
Someone should start wildly Laughing –Now!

The law of agreement

2010-03-15T09:25:00.000-07:00

To get to the laughs, you have to go along with the joke. When improv comedians perform together, it doesn't work if one performer attempts to control the story and force it to produce his or her own punchlines. In his book Blink, Malcolm Gladwell gives an example from a rehearsal of the comedy group Mother. A woman says to her partner, "We need to amputate your leg!" He replies, "You can't do that. I'm very attached to it!" She gave him an opening, but he closed it. He gets in a mildly funny joke, and then the scene comes screeching to a halt. They try it again, and this time he accepts her invitation into the story. She says, "We need to amputate your leg!" He replies, "Well, I think you'd better go ahead and take both of them!" The exchange isn't especially comic by itself, but it gets them moving into new and ever more ridiculous scenarios until they find some very funny material.

In our relationships with other humans, we are constantly negotiating. We have limited time and energy, resources and talent. So as we grow up and get to know people, we learn when to say yes and when to say no. We only accept a few invitations.

Our relationship with God is different. Here we dance with an entirely unlimited partner, an infinite beloved with literally all the time and energy in the world. When God invites us into something new - or we invite God deeper into our lives - the answer is always Yes.

Start at the very beginning

2010-03-13T10:08:00.000-08:00

The song from the Sound of Music goes, "Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. When you read you begin with ABC. When you sing you begin with do-re-mi."

No matter where I go in my faith, I keep coming back to the same place. It doesn't matter what questions I ask or what doubts I raise, what stories I read or what prayers I say. It all comes down to the simple experience of being loved and safe, the way a small child feels as a gentle hand rubs her back to help her fall asleep.

After a long and distinguished career, the theologian Karl Barth gave one of his last lectures at the University of Chicago. When he invited questions, the president of the seminary asked, "Of all the theological insights you have ever had, which do you consider to be the greatest of them all?" Barth paused for a moment with his eyes closed and then said: "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so!"

Play your own game

2010-03-12T09:54:00.000-08:00

In an early episode of the show Joan of Arcadia, God encourages Joan to try playing chess. At the same time, Joan lets herself get caught up in the social scene of her high school, the game that determines who's in and who's out. She comes to realize that the only way to win either game is to resist the temptation to react to other people and just follow her own path.

There is a lot of advice out there about how to connect to God. Some of it assumes that everyone loves to read Scripture, or craves silence, or finds clarity in fasting, or feels at home in traditional worship. The reality is that there is no one practice that will suit everyone. Sometimes we have to ignore others' advice (even the ideas of your blogging priest) and seek our own path towards God.

We are halfway through Lent. Maybe you started a practice for this season and it's not doing a lot for you. Maybe you didn't choose anything at first, but there's something you'd like to try for the next 20 days. Give yourself permission to engage this time in your own way. All that matters is you, your God, and the love that is growing between you.

Calming the water

2010-03-11T16:10:00.000-08:00

I spent a lovely morning at a workshop led by Brother Geoffrey Tristram from the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, the Episcopal monastery in Cambridge. Geoffrey shared with us a meditation he uses to center himself at the end of the day:

Imagine that your soul is a bowl full of water. As you've traveled through the day, the water has been stirred up. It's moved back and forth as you've been pushed and pulled in different directions. Maybe some has spilled out in anger or sorrow. Let the water stop its churning. Let the ripples become smaller and smaller, until they come to rest. Let the water be still.
Now your soul is a smooth surface, ready to reflect the true image of God.

The weight of the world

2010-03-10T10:59:00.000-08:00

Is it really true that God never gives us a burden that we cannot bear? I know many people find great comfort in this statement. It makes me uneasy. I keep thinking of people who really are crushed by this world. Some are burdened by grave injustices, the blind or cruel choices of others. Others face diseases or forces of nature too great for them to conquer. Did God give them these burdens? Could a good God have some mysterious reason to desire their pain?

These are the hardest questions of our faith, and I will not pretend to have any easy answers. The best I can do is to say that if one person is too laden down, it may be because he or she was never supposed to carry that load alone. We are not called to be so self-centered that we ignore another person's struggle, or so proud that we refuse to share our own. The weight of the world is light if we all shoulder it together.

1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4

2010-03-09T12:45:00.000-08:00

“Dad, why are you holding that potato?” I asked. He was rooting through the refrigerator drawers and the kitchen cabinets, doing it all with one hand. He looked down at the large russet potato that was occupying his other hand and answered, “Because I’m looking for an onion.” He wanted to make home fries, and it never occurred to him to put down the potato while he looked for the other ingredients.

I am clearly my father’s daughter. As soon as I begin one task, I notice another that needs doing and pick up the thing I need for that job. Before I know it I have too many things to carry – a toy that needs to go upstairs, a note reminding me to make a call, a dishtowel headed for the hamper, a pair of pliers to fix a broken drawer. There is nowhere to put the next thing I see.

It can be the same way with my care for people. I collect concerns about the many people I come across, so that sometimes my heart feels too full to add even one more prayer.

Jesus invites us to lay our burdens down, to give him all the anxieties we feel for neighbors and strangers, family and friends. We release our love and our fear into him, knowing his heart is big enough to hold it all. Now our hands and hearts are open, ready for the next need we encounter.

Stepping lightly

2010-03-08T09:25:00.000-08:00

In this rare warm spell, it has been nice to see grass again, even the brown and withered lawns just waking up from their sleep under the snow.

In Psalm 103, we read:
As for mortals, their days are like grass;
they flourish like a flower of the field:
for the wind passes over it, and it is gone,
and its place knows it no more.

No one knows how long we will have on this earth, but we can be certain that it will end, and probably before we have done all the things that we desire. We must trust that we are not the only ones who can accomplish our dreams, and that others will take up their part in the unfolding work of God's salvation. We can only do our own small part, and the rest will be theirs to discover.

We will not be here, so we must protect the gifts of creation for the next generation. As Anglican theologian Kwok Pui-Lan encourages us: Tread as lightly on this earth as you would step on your mother's back.

I wasn't thinking

2010-03-06T09:34:00.000-08:00

After an especially spectacular performance of three-year-old behavior, my son sat down in my lap to have a little talk. In a solemn voice he declared, "I wasn't thinking."

Of course he wasn't. Preschoolers have almost no impulse control. I am struck, though, by how often we adults have to make the same admission. It's so easy to slip into auto-pilot, or to forge ahead with our plans without considering the consequences.

In our service for the Reconciliation of a Penitent, we pray for forgiveness not just for the things we have done and the things we have left undone, but also for the mistakes we don't even remember. We acknowledge that we have gone through life without really thinking.

Prayer can create a space between our impulses and our actions. When we stop to take a breath and notice the presence of God, we receive greater power to choose consciously what we will do next. Then we act not out of habit or greed or fear, but out of hope for God's kingdom.

Whatever you have to do

2010-03-05T06:12:00.000-08:00

A wise friend of mine once told me, "Do whatever you have to do to stay centered." He meant that we should take the time we need to care for our spirits, even if it means most of our to-do lists get left undone. We give more to the world when we do a few things peacefully and with love than when we hurry to get everything done and end up anxious and easily irritated.

I only sometimes manage to take my friend's advice. But when I do, I notice the difference right away. The world teaches us that success is getting things done, and that it's OK to be whoever we have to be to get the job done. Faith teaches us to find meaning not in what we do but in who we are: beloved children made in the image of God. God does not call us to complete a set of tasks, no matter how worthy those accomplishments might be. God calls us simply to be who we were created to be, sharing our unique spirits with the world.

Clean indeed

2010-03-04T14:39:00.000-08:00

In Psalm 51, we pray: "Purge me from my sin, and I shall be pure; wash me, and I will be clean indeeed."

My mind resists the idea of being washed of my sins. I don't like the implication that we go through life tarnished or dirty. But perhaps this is a time to listen to body, my which often understands spiritual matters long before my busy brain catches up.

Even when I'm not particularly grimy, water almost always feels good. A splash on the face to wake up, toes dabbling in the ocean, a plunge into the pool, a laughing dash through the sprinklers, a warm shower or soak to unwind...there are so many ways for us to feel fresh and new.

Maybe I could stop debating whether or not I really need cleansing and just enjoy the gift of God's purifying grace.

All who hunger

2010-03-03T09:25:00.000-08:00

Have you ever felt lost? All of us have moments when the path is unclear and we have no idea where to make the next turn.

The story of the Exodus always puts things in perspective for me. I may feel confused for a few days or weeks, but I certainly haven't spent forty years searching for my home. Also, the Israelites are such real human beings. They grumble, they make mistakes, they run after false solutions, they whine about all the good food they left back in Egypt. If we ever need a guidebook for our own wanderings, it's all in here.

When the people had gone as far as they could on their own, God did not abandon them to starve on the burning sands. God sent them manna, giving them each day exactly as much as they needed. They could not ration or hoard their food, but had to depend utterly on God to feed them.

Can we trust that, whatever we need on our journey, God will provide it? In the words of Sylvia Dunstan's hymn, "All who hunger, gather gladly, holy manna is our bread. Come from wilderness and wandering, here in truth we shall be fed."

I promise...

2010-03-02T14:36:00.000-08:00

Our neighbors at Holy Trinity United Methodist Church have written a covenant of relationship for their community. They make four promises: to treat one another as children of God, to remember that they are all imperfect human beings, to give feedback with kindness, and to turn any painful experiences into opportunities to build a healthier community.

Jesus speaks of the kingdom of God as a wedding feast. In this sacred marriage, we make our vows to God - and to one another, to all our partners in the beloved community.

Reading the Holy Trinity statement today, I started wondering how I would live if I truly kept these promises to every child of God.

A strange gift

2010-03-01T10:02:00.000-08:00

In her poem "The Uses of Sorrow", Mary Oliver writes:

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.

When we are hurt, we need plenty of time to truly feel our anger and our grief.

Then, after we have emptied ourselves out of all that pain, sometimes we find space for something new to come in. We are able to see not just what we have endured, but what we have learned.

God does not send us suffering to teach us a lesson. God does give us the ability to take all our experiences, the good and the bad alike, and use them to create a meaningful life. By the grace of God, we are able to find the blessing beyond the curse.

Finding our teachers

2010-02-27T11:11:00.000-08:00

Our Sunday School is exploring the life of Jesus this Lent. I'm making small paintings for each story, a project I enjoy even though human figures aren't my strong suit.

In tomorrow's story, the boy Jesus leaves his parents' caravan. They look for him everywhere before they find him happily sitting at the feet of the teachers in the temple, soaking up their wisdom. He knows where he needs to be.

Jesus won't begin his ministry for perhaps another twenty years. But here he is, already seeking out the teachers he needs. He learns the prophecies that he will be called to fulfill, the good news that he will be called to share.

Whose feet would you like to sit at? Who brings you peace and helps you see the right path?
The time we spend learning from our own wise ones is never wasted. We deepen our understanding now, never knowing who God will call us to be someday.

If I open the door

2010-02-26T11:27:00.000-08:00

Weeks ago we invited friends over for dinner this Saturday. Then we found out that the tilers are ready to start our kitchen floor, so today the plumber disconnected our stove and shoved it into another room. Guests are coming tomorrow, and there is an ugly hole where my stove should be.

It's hard to invite God in when we're afraid to share the unfinished edges of our souls. I am reminded of a song by Greg Brown, an achingly honest lament that could have come right out of the Psalms:

Oh Lord, I have made you a place in my heart
among the rags and the bones and the dirt.
There's piles of lies, the love gone from her eyes,
and old moving boxes full of hurt.
...If I open the door, you will know that I'm poor
and my secrets are all that I own.
Oh Lord, I have made you a place in my heart
and I hope that you leave it alone.

But I wanted

2010-02-25T10:07:00.000-08:00

While the kids were picking out their clothes this morning, I found myself staring out the skylight in my room. "The last thing I want," I grumbled to myself, "is another cold rainy day."

With two young children in the house, my days are punctuated with cries of "I get to choose!" and "But I wanted...!" The desire to control our lives runs deep.

When I let myself get wrapped up in whether or not I am getting my own way, it's hard to notice anything else. Like the gentle patter of the rain, or the patterns it makes as it hits the glass. Like the bundle of sticks high up in the oak tree that is a home for one of our neighbor squirrels. Like the healthy, happy kids making each other giggle across the hall. Like God, ever at my elbow, offering to show me the beauty in even this gray and soggy day.

The steady rhythm

2010-02-24T09:42:00.000-08:00

The rain poured down on my way to work this morning. Even at their full speed, the wipers could barely keep up. The cars ahead blurred for a second before the wipers swept the windshield clear again. I traveled to the steady beat of the wiper blades, sweep...sweep...sweep.

As we move through life, our way is so often clouded by our assumptions about the past and our anxieties about the future. We need to come back to God, over and over again, for a brief moment of peace. Then our eyes are cleared enough that we can safely move forward.

I treasure our shared confession and the reassurance that we are forgiven. For a moment, all uncertainties are swept away, and I can see the truth of God's unchanging love. I depend on this weekly rhythm to keep my path clear.

A lot of growing

2010-02-23T10:59:00.000-08:00

My kids are big fans of Jan Van Leeuwen's stories about Oliver Pig and his little sister Amanda. In one of the first stories, Oliver plants a squash seed in his father's garden. He waters it and shades it and weeds it, and finally a little sprout comes up and produces a tiny baby squash. "Can we pick it now?" Oliver asks. "Not yet," his father says. "This is a lot of waiting!" Oliver complains. "Well," his father answers, "it is a lot of growing."

This is a simpler way of saying what Pierre Teihard de Chardin wrote: "Above all, trust in the slow work of God....Your ideas mature gradually - let them grow, let them shape themselves, without undue haste. Don't try to force them on, as though you could be today what time (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will) will make you tomorrow. Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be. Give our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete."

Our true face

2010-02-22T04:39:00.000-08:00

"But Mom," Carrie says, "I'm not the kind of person who would do this." In this scene from Ann Packer's novel The Dive from Clausen's Pier, Carrie has abruptly left her hometown of Madison, Wisconsin, and moved to New York without telling her parents where she was. Worse, she has left Michael, her high-school sweetheart and fiance, who was recently paralyzed. On the other end of the phone line, Carrie's mother listens to her and then gently says, "You did leave us. So you are exactly the kind of person who would do this."

Carrie's mother wants her to let go of her ideal self and acknowledge her real needs and desires. Even before the accident, she was pretending to be closer to Michael than she was in order to preserve the image of the perfect couple. She was settling down in Madison, without even asking herself what she wanted to do with her life. Her actions, much more than her ideas about herself, showed who she really needed to be.

Jesus teaches us that, if we follow him, we will know the truth, and the truth will set us free. He invites us to look at our lives, at our actual choices, and see clearly who we are. Only then we can begin to discover who God is calling us to be.

Laying the burden down

2010-02-20T10:05:00.001-08:00

In a classic Buddhist story, an experienced monk and a novice are walking down a muddy road. They hear a voice yelling insults, and turn to see a rich young woman sitting in a sedan chair across the road. She is berating her servants because she cannot get down to cross the road without ruining her fine silk dress and her fancy shoes. The servants can't help because their hands are already full with her packages. The older monk crosses the road, takes the woman on his back, and carries her across the road. When she gets down, she shoves past him into a merchant's store without a word. As the monks continue their journey, the younger one seethes in silence. Finally, after several hours of walking, he bursts out: "Why did you bother to help that rude woman? She didn't even thank you!" The older monk turns to him and answers, "I put her down back at the side of the road. Why are you still carrying her?"

Is there someone or something that you're still carrying around? What might happen if you asked God to help you put it down?

Preparing to fly

2010-02-19T06:25:00.000-08:00

The Winter Olympics are all about the dazzling leaps into the frosty air. At least that's how it seems to someone like me, who has never tried snow sports. As we've tuned into Vancouver this week, I've been impressed by how much work goes into setting up for the big tricks. I watch in awe as the commentators show us how the exact placement of a ski or board or skate changes the athlete's speed and balance and makes the difference between a gorgeous flip and a clumsy sprawl on the ground.

The mystery of Easter has all the thrill of lifting off the ground and twirling through the air. This celebration of our new life with God is coming, just the other side of muddy March. And how we prepare for it, how we place our feet on this downhill run of a season, will make a difference. The question is not whether it will come - we do not need to earn this grace or make it happen. The question is whether we will be ready to receive it, whether our hearts will be in the right place to truly feel Christ rising in us.

Taking your God for a Walk

2010-02-18T05:52:00.000-08:00

When we talk about observing Lent, people usually think first of giving something up. They assume that Lent means no sweets, no alcohol, or some other sacrifice of a pleasant or comfortable habit. These practices are certainly valuable if they help you remember your connection to God. Every time you reach for the same old thing and stop, you are making a choice to find your comfort and joy in God instead.

Another way to observe Lent is to find some small way to spend more time with God, some daily moment of prayer that enriches your faith. The wonderful thing is that you don't have to go hunting for God, like a friend you hesitate to bother because they're always so busy. God is always ready, always available, always overjoyed to spend time with you. All it takes is for us to decide to be with God. We just need to get out of bed, turn off the constant media chatter, step away from the to-do list, and stop for a moment. We don't even have to say anything to God. We can just sit, or walk, or breathe together. If you're not one for silence, you could listen to music with God, or feel God's presence with you when you take the time to talk to someone who could use a friend. Whatever it looks like for you, a simple moment out of the day is more than enough to grow closer to God.

Touching the ground

2010-02-17T10:58:00.001-08:00

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

There is so much power in these simple words. They take us deep into the earth or our faith, uncovering layers and layers of meaning.
As I reflect on them this Ash Wednesday, I find myself drawn to a story about Jesus and dust from the Gospel of John. A woman is caught in adultery. The religious leaders bring her before Jesus to test his rigor. They want him to judge her harshly: "In the law Moses commanded us to stone such woman. What do you say?"

And for a moment, Jesus doesn't say anything at all. He just bends down and writes in the dust on the ground. Then he stands up and says, "Let anyone who is among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." And he bends down again to continue writing in the dust.

What is he doing here, as he pauses to place his hands in the earth? I think he is touching the common ground of our humanity. He is placing his hands in the truth that we are all mortal, all imperfect, and yet all children of God. He is merciful to the woman because she is no different than the rest of us. She made a mistake, which is another way of saying she was a human being.

This is the great privilege of Ash Wednesday, to touch your forehead with the dust of the earth. With this cross of ash, I tell you: you are human and you are loved.

The end and the beginning

2009-04-11T06:37:00.000-07:00

On this holy Saturday, we wait by the closed and darkened tomb. We dare to believe that, if we hold fast to our faith in Jesus, he will rise up again. We keep our vigil with Christ, just as we have watched and waited with him through the long season of Lent.

My husband made me this card for one of our anniversaries. He wanted to celebrate the truth that committing our lives to each other did not keep us from doing what we wanted, but actually gave us more freedom to express our full selves.

I feel the same way about this Lenten journey. I chose to sacrifice a small piece of my time and my creative energy, turning my attention from work and family long enough to write these posts. Each day, once I found an image or a thought that connected me to God, my spirit settled into a greater peace. This small commitment to my faith helped set my heart free.

Thank you for coming along with me. May God bless you and keep you, this Easter and always.

The heart of the matter

2009-04-10T09:34:00.000-07:00

Good Friday has a special place in my journey with God.
One of my first memories of church is shuffling forward with the crowd at my mother's Catholic parish, waiting my turn to kiss the feet of the crucifix cradled like a baby in the priest's arms. At my Episcopal high school, we walked in silence to the chapel to hear a solo baritone voice sing "Were you there?" When I came to Christ as a young adult, I went to sit in an empty church on Good Friday because I knew something powerful was happening that day and I needed to be there with Jesus.

I look forward to Easter, but I also treasure this sad and solemn day to remember God's presence in the midst of the worst of human suffering. Good Friday teaches us to see past our illusions to the truth of God's endless love. It promises us that when we hit bottom, God will always be there to lift us up.

Sweet Jesus

2009-04-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

Maundy Thursday is a moment of sweetness between the intensity of Palm Sunday and the solemnity of Good Friday. Jesus reminds us that we are his beloved friends, and that as long as we gather to break bread together, he will come and be here with us.

Anne Pofcher, who helped me with this year’s confirmation class, created this wonderful collage. I love the image of Jesus coming to us not just as sturdy, nourishing bread, but as the delight of a birthday cupcake. Let us taste and see that God is good!

Where are you?

2009-04-08T10:34:00.000-07:00

As we follow the events of the last week of Jesus' life, the liturgies ask us: Where are you in this story? What is your role to play?

There is a powerful moment in the movie Dead Man Walking when Sister Helen Prejean first begins visiting Matthew Poncelet, who is awaiting execution for rape and murder. Prejean starts speaking of Jesus and his death. Poncelet lights up, excitedly comparing himself to Jesus as a fellow rebel who was condemned and executed by the state. Prejean looks him straight in the eye and says, "Jesus died because he loved people. All you did was cause pain." She asks him to let go of the idea that he is the star of the story, and instead accept that he is one of Christ's many betrayers. Only then can he discover the Christ in him and become part of Jesus' legacy of forgiveness and love.

We get into trouble if we think that one role in the divine drama belongs to us, identifying always with Jesus or the faithful disciples or (just as dangerously) the guilty ones who caused this pain. The Passion is full of power and grace because it invites us to experience the whole range of our humanity. At different times in our lives, we are the ones who suffer, the ones who cause suffering, the ones who stand by and do nothing, the ones who bring healing and compassion, and even the ones who rise up to new life. We are everyone in this story.

Do it for the joy

2009-04-07T10:42:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, full day. Sometimes we work and work and then stop and say: What am I doing all this for? I so often find my answer with Ani Di Franco: "I do it for the joy it brings, because I am a joyful girl." As a wife, a mother, a priest and a friend, I do it all for the joy it brings to me and to the ones God has given me to love.

I want to share with you a picture a friend sent me of the cross in the cathedral at Mainz, Germany. Jesus leaps like a dancer off the cross, rising with open arms. Our Lord took on the great work of the crucifixion, and he did it all for the joy it would bring this world.

Keeping it real

2009-04-06T10:03:00.000-07:00

This year we began Palm Sunday in the parish hall. The room buzzed with conversation as people milled around in no particular order, getting their palm branches and programs from the ushers and waiting for the service to begin. And then the choir burst forth in a loud "Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!" that startled the congregation. And I thought: This is what it must have been like. Jesus' entry into Jerusalem was not a carefully planned parade, with everyone lining the route in an orderly fashion and joining the songs on cue. It must have been pure chaos, with the streets packed full of Passover pilgrims. A few noticed Jesus and began to hail him, and then others came running to see what was going on, and soon the crowd all pressed around him, hoping to see this new king. Someone got the idea to lay down a branch or a cloak, and then more wanted to do it, so that the crowd spilled into the road and got in the horse's way.

We spend a lot of time in the church trying to create dignified, beautiful, perfect worship services. But sometimes the places where we truly meet Jesus are the accidents, the surprises, the disorderly moments of real life.

Here and Now

2009-04-04T10:29:00.000-07:00

This little fellow is the Demon of Rushing Ahead, one of several Everyday Demons that I drew some years back. For this one, I was thinking about how hard it can be to not worry about the next steps and just enjoy being exactly where we are.

Palm Sunday is as prepared as it can be before tomorrow morning. The house is in reasonable shape, and it's still too early to do much in the yard. Today is a day just to pause and breathe before the work of Holy Week begins.

Lord, you have brought me to this place and this time. Let my spirit dwell here, right here, nowhere else but here, with you.

Mending the tears

2009-04-03T08:09:00.000-07:00

With its long, slow rain, today is definitely the day for a favorite sweater. I remember Martha, a good friend of mine, loved a cozy turtleneck sweater so much that she kept wearing it after a hole started in the armpit. The hole spread and stretched, until it was well down the side seam.
She assured me that there was no use to try to fix it - she had sewn it up before, but the stitches ripped right out again. She let me take a look, and I saw it was true that the knitting was unraveled all along the edges, so it would be too weak to hold together as she pulled it over her head. I was about to hand it back when I realized it just needed a patch. I cut a piece of an old T-shirt and stitched one edge down tightly so all the loose threads were held fast. Then I attached the other side right next to it. The sturdy, stretchy patch held the seam together so well you couldn't tell it had ever ripped open.

At the Church of the Apostles in Seattle, they sing "Christ is the peace between all of us." It is so easy for relationships to fall apart. In my brokenness and your brokenness, we can be too weak on our own to keep our connection strong. But if you and I are each bound fast to Jesus, the strength of his love holds us together through every challenge.

The Plow

2009-04-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

As Holy Week approaches, I begin to feel our resistance to it. Several folks in our congregation have told me that one or more of the services makes them uncomfortable. They don't want to have their feet washed, or sit through the intense drama of Christ's Passion. I feel it too - as I finish the planning for each service, part of me wonders, Do I really want to go there?

Christian faith is not always comforting. Jesus comes not just to love and forgive us, but also to unsettle us enough that we're willing to let go of what we know and live in his new way.
Victor Hugo has a wonderful image of us as fields being prepared for the Spring planting. Before the soil is ready to receive the seeds of new growth, it has to be broken by the plow .

Not much further - Stay on target

2009-04-01T10:23:00.000-07:00

For those of you not of my generation, the title of this post comes from the final moments of Star Wars. Luke Skywalker repeats these words to himself as he flies deep into the Death Star to destroy its core.

The last Sunday of Lent has passed. Holy Week begins on Sunday with the blessing of the Palms and the reading of the Passion. It feels like the home stretch. I feel relieved to be finishing this inward work of Lent, grateful for everything I've learning, and a little sad to see this part of the journey coming to an end.

God, help me to keep the prayerful, disciplined focus of this season and not lose my center in the busy preparations for Easter. Let me run the race all the way to the end (1 Corinthians 9) to win the prize of Easter's joy.

The disciplines of faith

2009-03-31T11:02:00.000-07:00

I recently came across a quotation from Louis Pasteur: "Chance favors the prepared mind." He was able to make his world-changing discoveries about the role of microbes in illness not just because he was in the the right place at the right time, but because he had spent years studying and observing and crafting experiments. His mind was ready to see what the world had to show him.

God's grace appears in our lives unexpectedly, arriving at its own place and time. We can't predict or control it, but we can prepare for it, making ourselves ready to discover God's presence in our lives. Every time we say a prayer, or read Scripture or other spiritual writings, or show up for worship, or talk with someone about our faith, we open up more space in our minds for God to come in.

Everyday sacraments

2009-03-30T10:13:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine in seminary used to say that we should add an eighth sacrament: the teddy bear. What better "outward and visible sign" could there be for the "inward and spiritual grace" of God's unconditional love?

On these gray days of early Spring I find myself wanting to nominate the cup of tea as a ninth sacrament. I could spend the day railing against the wet yuck, annoyed that I can't get outside for a walk. Or I could brew some tea and let it warm me up as I stand at the window and watch the rain. Like this whole season of Lent, something as simple as a cup of tea can be an invitation to slow down, do less, and dwell for a moment in the quiet presence of God.

You get what you get

2009-03-28T10:02:00.000-07:00

Our daughter made several similar paintings. She brought one to me, and a different one to her dad. As she handed them to us, she looked at us very sternly and said, "This one is for you. You get what you get and you don't get upset."

How much time have I wasted comparing roughly equal things and worrying that I didn't get the best one? We do it with little things like lanes on the highway and registers at the supermarket, and bigger things like our homes and our jobs. There's a freedom in the preschool approach to these things: If everyone gets what they need, then you can let go of whether or not you got the purple marker this time.

Our Ash Wednesday litany of penitence asks us to confess "our anger at our own frustration and our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves." Then we confess "our blindness to human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty." I think the two tendencies are deeply related. The more we worry about whether we came out on top, the less we notice who ended up on the bottom.

Mirrors of love

2009-03-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

As part of my training for the priesthood, I completed a summer course as a hospital chaplain. Every day in the hospital, I met new people and got swept up in the intense emotions of their encounters with illness and healing. At the end of the summer, a friend made this little image of me praying as part of a farewell gift. Where I felt overwhelmed and inexperienced, she saw me as centered and peaceful, able to nurture the patients and my fellow chaplains. Her gift helped me see myself and my work in a new way.

Sometimes God sends people into our lives to be mirrors, reflecting back to us the amazing possibilities of our souls. Today I thank God for all my companions on the journey, and I pray for the grace to be a true mirror of God's love, showing my brothers and sisters how beautiful they are in God's sight.

Help us to ask

2009-03-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

Almighty God, to whom our needs are known before we ask: Help us to ask only what accords with your will; and those good things which we dare not, or in our blindness cannot ask, grant us for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

Lately, I'm finding a lot of comfort in these words from our prayerbook, which I use to conclude the Prayers of the People.

We human beings seem to have a lot of trouble with asking for help. Many of us would rather compel or manipulate others into giving us what we need, or wear ourselves out doing it all ourselves, or just give up and go without.

God knows what we need and offers all blessings to us, whether we can figure out how to ask for them or not. We need to learn how to ask for the right things not for God's sake, but for our own, so that we can be at peace with our own desires.

This prayer calls on God to train our hearts, so that all we want is God's presence in our lives and in our communities. It offers up our voices to God, so that in God's grace we can discover our true voices and use them to speak out for God's love and God's justice.

The lost

2009-03-25T09:28:00.000-07:00

Our daughter lost her first tooth, so we got to play tooth fairy last night. There is something so reassuring to children about the idea that someone cares for every part of them, even their lost teeth.

Holding that tiny tooth in my hand, I started thinking about all the little parts of ourselves that get lost along the road through life. The dreams that don't come true, the roads we don't take, the enthusiasms we set aside, the idols that fall off their pedestals, the friendships and first loves that slip away. As we grow and change, it can feel like we have left so much behind.

But in God, nothing is truly lost. Through God's grace, everything we experience teaches us and shapes us and makes us into the people we are called to be. It all becomes part of us. Even the painful parts are surrounded and transformed by God's love, so that they too are part of the beautiful, healed, whole self that God is creating inside us.

Thank you, God, for watching over us, and gathering up every passing moment of our lives into your eternal heart.

I found this image of an angel on a roadtrip through New Mexico. It's by Lydia Garcia, a folk artist from Taos. It's always spoken to me of God's care for the smallest ones.

Finding our strength

2009-03-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

We so often feel fearful of new challenges because we don't know if we will have what it takes to get through them. And then we try anyway, and we discover we have more strength than we ever knew. How many times will I have to make this same discovery before I start trusting that God will give me everything I need?

I have a visual prayer that helps me when I don't feel up to a task. I stop and breathe and then I imagine roots growing from me down into the earth. The roots tap into the deep groundwater of God's mighty power. They bring up to me all the energy, all the confidence, all the determination I need.

As Paul says in his letter to the church in Philippi, "I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

Kiss it better

2009-03-23T09:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it feels like I spend half my day kissing pinched fingers and banged elbows. Our children both throw themselves into their games with total abandon, so they constantly careen into various objects or each other. Then they hold out the part that hurts to me or to their father and say, "Kiss?"

A kiss obviously doesn't undo any of the damage. The skin stays scraped, the bruise stays purple. But usually that tiny gesture of parental care is all they need. They just want to know that I see the hurt, that they're not alone with the pain and they don't need to be afraid.

Jesus invites us to become like children in our faith. Perhaps part of what he means is that we can show God our hurts. We can handle almost anything the world sends our way as long as we know we are not alone. God is with us, freeing us from fear and loving the pain away.

Unplugging

2009-03-20T10:12:00.000-07:00

Two posts today, because I'm spending Saturday at the diocese's camp, chaperoning a pre-confirmation retreat. The directions specifically tell us to unplug for the retreat time. No cellphones or music players or tiny web browsers to keep us connected to the world outside the camp. The young people often groan when they hear about this rule. Me too - I've gotten used to doing my daily blog! Time to set the computer aside and pay attention to just one thing, the spiritual experience offered to me in this retreat.

We so rarely do just one thing. When I took a prayer class with Margaret Bullitt-Jonas, she challenged us to do one task, like making the bed, without thinking about anything else. Don't make plans in your head, don't talk on the phone, just make the bed. The Buddhist author Thich Nat Hanh offers a similar exercise of eating a tangerine. Don't read the paper, don't reach for slices while you're typing or driving a car, just sit there and taste the tangerine. This kind of mindfulness is challenging for me. As a mom, I do very few things without also filling milk cups and wiping noses. As a priest, any free time easily becomes a chance to outline the next week's sermon. But whenever I try, I find God's blessings all around me, just waiting for me to slow down long enough to notice them.

Out of Alignment

2009-03-20T09:47:00.000-07:00

One time I hit a curb as I went around a corner. The car jolted, and I thought, "Oh no. There goes a tire." I listened carefully to the wheels going around, wondering if every hum or thump from the uneven road was the sound of the tire going flat. Once I could stop, I got out and looked at my wheel. Everything was fine. Relieved, I continued on my way as if nothing had ever happened.

Then the next time I took the car in for service, the mechanic said, "You know, this wheel is really out of alignment. Did you hit something?"

Sometimes we mess up. We cut a corner, we let something slide, we tell a half-truth, we take the easy way out. We don't mean any harm, but we know we didn't quite do the right thing. And we wait, watching and listening to the people around us. Did anyone notice? Will there be any consequences?

The discipline of confession reminds us that nothing is hidden from God. Even when we think we get away with our small misdeeds, they still affect us, pulling us out of alignment with our own moral code. We come back to God to have our hearts set true in the pathways of the Lord.

Quiet witnessing

2009-03-19T11:37:00.001-07:00

The preparations for Holy Week have begun in earnest. Yesterday our music director, Bianca De Maria, sang to me some of the pieces she'll be using for Good Friday, all of them hushed and still and achingly beautiful. Today I am preparing for Palm Sunday by working and praying with the woodcuts from Barry Moser's illustrated Bible. Moser's images are stark, formed from simple black and white lines, but they are still warm and alive, with real human faces looking out of every scene.

The Passion is full of drama, with trials and betrayals and terrible violence. If we're not careful with a story like this, it can send us into our worst cycles of behavior: blind anger, numb avoidance, self-damaging guilt.

Bianca's songs and Moser's images are inviting me into a very different place, an open space of great stillness. I'm discovering again why I need these forty days of prayer and reflection. It takes me a long time to become quiet enough inside to witness pain and respond with nothing but love.

Filling the rainbow

2009-03-18T09:22:00.000-07:00

When I was a small girl, a family friend offered to paint a mural on my bedroom wall. I wanted a rainbow with a pot of gold. She drew the design on the pale yellow wall, and then one thing or another came up, and she never painted it in. Until we repainted a few years later, I could see the faded pencil lines of that empty rainbow whenever I lay down in my bed.

People often tell me their sorrows, their anxieties, their regrets. I say I will pray for them, and I do, but it feels like so little. I want to offer them the fullness of God's healing, the bright promise that God painted over the sky after the flood. What I have to offer feels as incomplete as those faint lines on the wall.

Lord, I only know the barest outline of your plan for this world. Let me trust that in your loving time, you will bring us all the colors of joy. Amen.

When Jesus shows up

2009-03-17T11:33:00.000-07:00

I talk a lot about the presence of Christ. I say it by habit: "Lord Jesus, be present here..." at the beginning of most sermons. I say it almost as a joke when things go wrong in worship: "We can mess up half the service, and Jesus still shows up!" I'm a priest, so making people aware of Christ's presence in their lives is my whole job description. But even I am surprised when Jesus comes right up close.

One Sunday morning I was preparing for the 8 am service. I wanted to be sure that everyone was in the chapel and settled before we began our worship, because I had some tough news to share about a death in our parish family. At a minute or two past eight, I went out the front door of the church and down the steps, feeling a little silly with my white robe flapping around in the cool morning breeze. I stood on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street for any stragglers on their way to church. I thought, "Is anyone else out here?" And I knew, as clearly as if it had been spoken aloud, that Jesus said to me, "I'm here." "Thanks, Jesus," I answered, and went back inside to do the hard work of the morning.

(This little image of Jesus is a detail from a painting by Marc Chagall.)

Making the list

2009-03-16T10:13:00.000-07:00

Monday is my day off, the day I spend at home with our two kids. I wake up and immediately think of everything that needs to be done today to keep our family organized for the week. Being absentminded by nature, I lose track of important tasks if I don't write them down. So Monday morning always starts with a list. I counted, and today's had eighteen things to do on it. Some of the jobs are quick, so it's a manageable agenda for a day. But still, eighteen tasks doesn't leave a lot of room for surprise adventures. Have I scheduled the Spirit right out of my day?

A friend who is a stay-at-home Mom has a sign on the fridge that says something like, "To achieve today: 1) Love my kids." There is no number 2 on the list. As a pastoral counselor, I've helped people make their own lists for the day, with "Relax" or "Remember that I am loved" right at the top. My thought for this Monday: I want to put God back at the top (and middle, and end) of my to-do lists.

Sweeping up the dirt

2009-03-14T10:19:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you lose track of yourself? Like anyone else, I have days when I'm cranky for no apparent reason. There's a line from Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia" that often comes to me in those moments: "I was bruised and battered - I couldn't tell what I felt - I was unrecognizable to myself." Over the years, I've found that the best cure for that mixed-up mood is a basic chore like sweeping the floor. It needs to be something that engages my body but doesn't require too much thought. By the time the bits of dust and trash are gathered into the dustpan, I'm usually able to see clearly whatever has been bothering me. Sometimes I'm even able to imagine a good solution for it. Just like counting out prayers on the beads of a rosary, the simple repetition of moving the broom creates a space for God to speak to my heart.

Waiting for Spring

2009-03-13T10:49:00.000-07:00

At last, a sign of Spring: a little green shoot has poked its head out in our daffodil patch.

When I was rereading C. S. Lewis earlier this week, I came across a passage about our "first fervor" for God. Many of us can remember moments when God felt very near and we were excited to be Christians. Perhaps we recall a childhood full of wonder, the passion of our conversion as adults, God's presence with us in a difficult time, a golden age in the life of our community. Lewis encourages us to treasure those memories, but not to hold onto them too tightly or wear ourselves out trying to recreate them. Like the bulbs that wait out the winter underground, our faith naturally dies back for a time. It will grow again in new and surprising ways, but we can not force it along. Don't start digging up the bulbs in your impatience, Lewis says. Wait, and the flower will come.

Yes, Lord!

2009-03-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like a song is following you around? When I served as a chaplain at our diocese's summer camp, I learned Darrell Evans' song "Trading My Sorrows." It starts out:

"I'm trading my sorrow, I'm trading my shame, I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord.
I'm trading my sickness, I'm trading my pain, I'm laying it down for the joy of the Lord."

And then comes the chorus, which like any good camp song is shouted out with hand motions:
"We say yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord, Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord, Yes Lord yes Lord yes yes Lord Amen."

To celebrate my coming to Calvary Church, a parishioner gave me this Yes Lord! plaque for my office. Nearly every time I stop to look at it, I get that incessant chorus stuck in my head again. It would be annoying, but the truth is that Evans' song always builds up my energy and paints a smile across my face. Sometimes what I need most is to stop making excuses and stalling and standing around, and say: Yes, Lord! God is always there, waiting to take the sorrow and shame, the sickness and pain, and transform it all into joy. Why not just say yes?

Good Pretending

2009-03-11T07:01:00.000-07:00

C. S. Lewis offers very practical advice for the times when we don't really feel like praying or doing good works. In his Mere Christianity, he says to try pretending that you really do want to do what is right. "There are two kinds of pretending," he writes. "There is the bad kind, where the pretense is there instead of the real thing; as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretense leads up to the real thing. When you are not feeling particularly friendly but know you ought to be, the best thing you do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And in a few minutes, as we have all noticed, you will really be feeling friendlier than you were." This good pretending opens the door for God to turn our hearts. When you pretend that you want to be with God and sit down to pray anyway, Christ "is actually at your side and is already at that moment beginning to turn your pretense into reality."

Clearing the Waters

2009-03-10T11:04:00.000-07:00

Steffi Shapiro, who is a very wise teacher of mine, told me this story. She was walking in the woods one day and came upon a stagnant pool in a stream. The water was full of dirt and dead leaves and algae. At one edge of the pool, the water spilled over some jagged rocks and continued flowing down the hill. On the other side of the rocks, the water was sweet and clear. Its journey up over the rocks had made it clean.

I don't believe that God puts obstacles in our way on purpose. As Lamentations tells us, the Lord does not willingly afflict anyone. It is our own human choices that make us run into each other or into the unbending forces of nature.

But when we do face obstacles, we have a choice. We can allow the experience to teach us, to change us, to make us a clear and flowing stream.

A sacrifice of joy

2009-03-09T10:10:00.000-07:00

We often have a negative view of sacrifice, especially of the ancient practice of animal sacrifice described in the Bible. On the surface it seems like senseless killing. Why would God be pleased by the death of any creature? And what good reason could there be for wasting the food of impoverished people? It occurred to me recently that we should give the ancients a little more credit. Nothing was ever wasted. After the official ritual, when the smoke went up as an offering to God, the meat was eaten. It fed the priests, freeing them from the daily tasks of securing food so that they could tend to the spiritual welfare of the people. And very often it was made available to anyone who needed it, so that the poor could receive a good meal.

What is our sacrifice to God? When we say something is our cross to bear, we usually mean it is a heavy, miserable burden that we can't escape. Maybe we should look instead for the places where our offerings feed other people's bodies and spirits. Our true cross creates more life and joy in this world.

Living with Constraint

2009-03-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

In this recession, we're learning to do without a lot of things we once took for granted.

Some of the toughest things to lose are our options. With shrinking investments and fewer jobs available, many people are realizing they will just have to make do with the situation they are in.

Living with fewer options is a spiritual skill. To keep from feeling resentful and trapped, we have to work at developing patience with the life we have.

Easier said than done, I know. When I need a pep talk for living with my own constraints, I often remember this advice from Ralph H. Blum:

"Mend, restore, redress: When fishermen can't go to sea, they repair nets. Let the constraints of the time serve you in righting your relationship to yourself...Consider the uses of adversity [and] take it on with good humor."

That's not my problem

2009-03-06T10:13:00.000-08:00

When I was in college, I attended a master class in Butoh, a Japanese dance form. Butoh is highly eccentric - Wikipedia sums it up as "playful and grotesque imagery, taboo topics, extreme or absurd environments, and .... slow hyper-controlled motion." None of us were quite sure what we were in for. The instructor asked us to lie down on the floor. Then, in the most serene voice I've ever heard, she said, "I will begin a Butoh exercise. You can try it, or you can not try it. You can like it, or not like it. That's not my problem."

I've always remembered that class, not for any of the movements we did, but because of the unique way the Butoh teacher invited us into the dance. She didn't try to convince us of anything. She simply gave us what she had to offer and let us be responsible for taking whatever we wanted from the experience.

I think sometimes we fear offering our ourselves because we're not sure how we will be received. Will our love be returned? Will our gifts be enjoyed? Will people feel burdened by our invitations?

Lord, teach me to offer what I have with open hands, and leave the rest up to you. Amen.

Memory and Imagination

2009-03-05T08:49:00.000-08:00

At bedtime in my house, we read a lot of the Magic Tree House books by Mary Pope Osborne. In Christmas in Camelot, an evil wizard has robbed Camelot of its joy. To lift the pall of sadness, our heroes, 8-year-old Jack and his seven-year-old sister Annie, are sent to a mysterious world to recover the Water of Memory and Imagination. When they drink the water, they break free of the fear and sadness of the present. They remember all the good things in life and the lessons they have learned, and then they imagine a path to a better future.

We are always hearing that we should focus on the present moment. The past and the future are discounted: "Don't dwell on the past," "Don't worry so much about the future." So I was struck by this idea of memory and imagination as the source of joy. The past does not have to drag us down, but can be the source of our wisdom. We don't need to be afraid of the future, but can fill it with our vision of a better life.

Perhaps Lent is a good time to make peace with the past and future, to see them as gifts instead of as burdens. Together they make it possible for us to find joy in the present.

God's laughter

2009-03-04T10:49:00.000-08:00

What does it feel like when we know God is present with us? Sometimes I'll be going about my business, and for no apparent reason it suddenly feels like God is right there. Some people describe God's presence as energy, power, love, or peace. For me it very often feels like humor, like sitting with a friend who bursts into laughter. You may have no idea what the joke is, but you can't help laughing along.

The Hindus have the idea that the whole world is "lila" or the play of God. We Christians tend to assume that God is always deadly serious, busy judging and controlling the world, or at least hard at work on fixing its broken places. When we say, "God must have a sense of humor," we usually say it with a taste of bitter irony, as if God is playing an unpleasant trick on us. I think God's humor is gentler, more a loving bemusement at the way this world bumbles along and a delight at surprising us with a blessing.

Lord, show me your playful love, and help me laugh more at the ups and downs of this life. Amen.

a peaceful death and a perfect end

2009-03-03T11:47:00.001-08:00

I visited North Shore Hospice today. Rona Tyndall, a chaplain there, told me that the way we care for our soul can change the way we die. She sees that people who connect to a pastor or a chaplain early in the journey towards death die more peacefully. And she doesn't just mean that they work through their unfinished emotional business. The contact with a spiritual guide actually changes their physical experience, so that they are less likely to experience agitation, acute pain, or delirium in the final stages of death. It seems our bodies need for us to understand that they will come to an end, so that they can do the work of dying in peace.

I left my time with Rona wondering what I need to surrender now, while I am still very much alive. What am I holding onto so tightly that it agitates my body and my soul? What peace could be waiting for me now, if I could just find a way to let go?

Snowy Footprints

2009-03-02T10:02:00.000-08:00

This morning Jake shoveled the front walk. While the kids played in the snowdrifts, I followed after him with the broom, sweeping away the last flakes that the shovel missed. The snow was light, so most of the powder easily moved off of the walkway. But after each pass, I was left with a few stuck-on white patches in the shape of Jake's boots. As he walked down the path, each footstep pressed some of the snow down so that it stuck onto the paving stones. They wouldn't sweep away, so I had to scrape them loose instead.

Every week, I make a few mistakes and misjudgments that I bring to the Lord when we say our confession. My sins are usually nothing so big that I worry about them, but I know if I didn't repent them, I would carry them around with me. Over time, they would get ground in to my soul, forming unhealthy habits or lasting regrets. They are so much easier to lift up and let go now, when they are still fresh in my mind. I can let the mercy of God sweep them all away.

Where your treasure is, your heart will be also

2009-02-28T05:33:00.000-08:00

Our daughter likes to fill up little bags and boxes with her "treasures" - all those cheap give-away toys that Mom would rather just toss.

I just hope that we are also giving her the treasures to store up "in heaven, where neither most not rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal." (Matthew 6:19-21) As Jesus tells us, "Where your treasure is, your heart will be also."

One reason I try to take care of my spirit is so that I can be a model to our children. I can't drive myself crazy getting them everything they want, because I don't want to teach them to neglect their own connection to God and chase after approval and material things instead.

Greg Brown sings, "Children they don't need a lot of stuff/
Children sure do need a lot of love...
If they don't get it at home they're going to go looking."

Will our children's hearts be with God, full of joy and trust? Or will they be left searching for their treasure out in the world, where it can never be found?

Be still and know that I am God

2009-02-27T07:00:00.000-08:00

In the gospel for Ash Wednesday, Jesus invites to go and pray in an inner room, alone with the God who sees us in secret.

Do you have a special place for prayer? Perhaps a journal or a favorite chair? For me it has never been the inner room, but the walk outdoors that draws me closer to God.

Today I walked down by the pond near my office - the one I rarely see between my busy schedule and the winter cold. The sun was on the water, and ducks were playing where the ice had melted. These are the moments when my heart grows quiet.

Here is my favorite invitation to prayer, from Dan Postena's book Catch Your Breath:

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

Gas Pump Prayers

2009-02-26T07:28:00.000-08:00

The yellow light lit up on my dashboard this morning. The car was almost out of gas. I hadn't even noticed it was low.

Sometimes it's hard to notice when our spirits are running low, too. We wait until the warning lights start coming on: headaches, flashes of temper, fatigue.

My friend, the Rev. Marya Decarlen, taught me a simple practice for renewing the spirit.

Breathe in. Imagine yourself filling with the presence of God.

Breathe out. Imagine love flowing through you out into the world.

That's it. Just breathe in God, breathe out love, and repeat. It only takes a moment, and it's amazing what a difference that few seconds of breath and prayer can make.

I usually sit at the gas pump planning worrying or planning or staring off into space. I'd like to try spending that time refueling my spirit instead.

Remember that you are dust...

2009-02-25T11:16:00.001-08:00

No one wants to be told, "You are dirt."

But the dust is a holy thing in God's sight. Over millions of years, the remains of plants of animals have settled into the surface of the earth. The intense heat and pressure of the inner earth has pressed them into rocks. Then, slowly, the rocks have broken and eroded, until they are worn down into tiny pieces. These grains of minerals mix into the soil, anchoring the roots of plants and giving them the minerals they need to grow.

To be dust is to be an essential part of the great cycle of life. When we remember that we are dust, we remember that we too have a part to play in God's mighty dream for this world.

Lent reminds us that we are small, not to make us feel weak and alone, but to help us notice that we are connected to a truth much bigger than ourselves.

Lord, when we feel weak, give us your strength. Let your power flow through us to nourish this world. Amen.