CROP Walk 2012

CROP (Communities Responding to Overcome Poverty) Walk :

We had 7 Hoppers who raised $185.72! Way to go Hoppers!

We had 26 walkers who have raised $3,014.15 so far. If you have not given in your sponsorship or would still like to donate, it is not too late! See Nora Parsons. Thanks to all the walkers and sponsors! 25% comes back to our community to help with hunger in Bennington.

What does CROP mean? CROP means folks of our Church family walking together Sunday October 14, starting at 1pm at 2CC ... to take a stand against hunger in our world. It means that together we raise our awareness and that of our neighbors about the millions of people worldwide who live on the edge of subsistence, at the will of fragile economies.

CROP means folks of our church family who could walk outside to their cars, choose to walk 3.3 miles....SHOWING their solidarity with the many people who have to walk every day to get water, tend their fields and animals, to get to work or school, or to escape violence. CROP also means that those who sponsor our Crop walkers raise funds for international relief and development, to help people struggling to escape the crushing grip of poverty and powerlessness. Here in Bennington it means that we raise much-needed money for the Bennington Free Clinic and the Kitchen Cupboard (25% of what we raise is used right here in Bennington.

Whether CROP to you means walking or sponsoring someone, your actions mean something! You can make a difference. Please join us - see Janice Lerrigo or Sue Wiskoski to become a helper during the Crop Walk, a Walker, or become a Spirit Walker by supporting Walkers with $ and your prayers (their names will be on "feet" in Webster Hall).

For more on CROP walks click here CROP Hunger Walks - more stories

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"What about the poor?"-- Amos 5:6-7, 10-15, Mark 10:17-31-- Oct.14, 2012

 

It is Peak Season for politics, with a little over 3 weeks until Election Day. We are in the midst of Presidential and Vice-Presidential debates, with claims and counter-claims being made, and polls jumping up and down like some kind of irregular heart rate monitor.

Jim Wallis, author of several books, including God’s Politics–Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It, and Editor-in-Chief of Sojourners Magazine, offered this analysis of both national parties–

As I carefully watched both the Democratic and the Republican conventions this summer

[and, I would add, as we watch the debates this fall], I realized, once again, how challenging and complicated it is to bring faith to politics.

For example, the phrase "middle class" was likely the most repeated phrase at the conventions. And even though both parties are utterly dependent on their wealthy donors (a fact they don’t like to talk about), they know that middle-class voters will determine the outcome of the election. Now, I believe a strong middle class is good for the country, but Jesus didn’t say, "What you have done for the middle class, you have done for me." Rather, Matthew 25 says, "What you have done to the least of these, you have done to me."

When your first principle for politics is what happens to the poor and vulnerable–and I believe that is the first principle for Christians–you keep waiting at conventions

[or debates]for those words and commitments. There were a few moments when the poor were briefly mentioned, but it certainly wasn’t a strong theme in Tampa or Charlotte. "Opportunity for the middle class" was an important word in both conventions this year, but Christians must be clear that creating new opportunities for poor children and low-income families is critical to us.

The conventions also talked a great deal about "success," but how we define that is very important. Is success mostly about how much money we make, defining the "American Dream" as being able to pass on more riches to our children than what our parents passed on to us? Or is success measured by how we as a nation prioritize, in our spending and political choices, the sick, the vulnerable, the weak, and the elderly? Is it determined more by the values we pass on to our children–evaluating our lives, and theirs, by how much we are able to help others?

(Sojourners Magazine,

Nov. 2012, p. 15)

The story of the rich man who comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life is told in 3 of the 4 gospels. Matthew says that he was young, and Luke adds that he was a ruler. It has all the marks of a healing story, as the man comes and kneels before Jesus, making his request, and Jesus tells him to go, be healed, like he says to so many others. But I believe this is the only story where the person refuses the healing. "When he heard this [go and sell all you have and give it to the poor, then come, follow me], he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions."

And who of us wouldn’t have done the same thing? We are right there with the disciples who "were astounded and said to one another, ‘Then who can be saved?’" And even Jesus concedes, "For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God, all things are possible."

"Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" or, another way of putting that is, "What must I do to live an authentic life?" The man has clearly thrown his heart into "doing the right thing." He replies sincerely that he has kept all the commandments since his youth. Jesus can see this, see his sincerity, and, Mark alone adds, "Jesus loved him." But Jesus can also see what’s holding this man back from fully trusting, or, if you will, "believing in," God. It is his material wealth. It’s his crutch, his safety net, his hedge, against entrusting his life to God.

But just as the man has learned the lessons of his tradition, learned the commandments and the law, so he has learned its assumptions –that wealth is a reward for living righteously. God rewards the righteous and punishes the unrighteous, which is a slightly different way of putting what our culture assumes–wealth and success are the result of one’s own hard work and ingenuity, maybe a little luck, but those who are poor are that way because they’re lazy, shiftless, somehow to blame, they’re stupid, they prefer to "live that way." That despite the reality that in our country, many people are poor due to no fault of their own. One in four children live in poverty in the U.S. Is it their fault? Seven million Americans work two to three jobs and are twice as likely as the wealthy to give up sleeping to work. Are they lazy? The average food stamp benefit is $21/week. Would you choose that way of shopping if you could?

The perils of poverty are well documented–death by malnutrition or starvation, or, as seems to be more and more the case in our country, death by bad nutrition–by sugars and chemicals, resulting in obesity, sugar diabetes, and heart disease. All that with lack of access to health care, including, of course, no preventative health care. The perils of exposure from homelessness or inadequate housing. The loss of dignity and self-esteem. The peril of isolation, ridicule, disdain.

Jesus knew about the perils of wealth as well, however, and knew that this particular man was at risk–at risk of thinking he could somehow buy or earn an authentic life, or happiness, or salvation. At risk of thinking that authentic, or eternal, life is "an achievement earned or a commodity purchased rather than a gift gratefully received and shared," as one United Methodist bishop wrote (Kenneth Carder, Christian Century, 9/24-10/1/97, p. 831) At risk of confusing his–and our, for we are so like this rich man--our resources, our possessions, our status with our identity. At risk of becoming addicted to our stuff or to what our wealth can buy us – experiences, power, access, escape –and so they become more and more necessary, even impacting our health. "The problem with wealth," says Disciples of Christ pastor and author Bruce Epperly, " is that it isolates us from others. It buffers us against the suffering others experience and leads to false complacency about our own personal security....It often leads to rugged, uncaring individualism...where we are tempted to see [our] wealth as deserved, totally the result of [our own] efforts." (Process & Faith lectionary, 10/14/12)

Jesus knew that there were perils of both poverty and wealth; and he knew there were possibilities and blessings in both. "Blessed are you poor," he says in Luke’s gospel, "for yours is the kingdom of heaven." You know what it’s like to be utterly dependent upon God, to know your connection to and dependence upon others. And wealth, if it’s not hoarded but gratefully received as a gift to be shared, can be a tremendous vehicle for good, for relieving suffering, for building up, for creating and discovering. "Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, [he told the man] and you will have treasure in heaven; you’ll be able to come and follow me, learn my way of living and enter into relationship with God, with others, and your true self." Life is not found in riches, but rather in God’s grace. That’s where your true identity and worth come from.

It’s simple but certainly not easy. "For mortals it is impossible," in fact, "but not for God; for God all things are possible." It’s not something we can do, but we might be open to God’s doing it through us. And it’s not just a choice for us in our individual lives but also a choice for us as a community and nation. Consider the opportunity we have each Sunday at least to get to know some of our neighbors from whom we might be isolated the rest of the week. Being part of a Sunday Supper team may take you into territory that makes you uncomfortable but which you also might find transforming. Walking in solidarity today in the CROP with some of the folks profiled by CWS may connect us with a brother or sister whose life is wrapped up in ours. Volunteering at the Kitchen Cupboard or the Free Clinic may be just what you need to discover deeper dimensions of life.

And as you consider who you will vote for this November, consider this from Jim Wallis–

All candidates, including Barack Obama and Mitt Romney, should be evaluated by the competing visions of what they are setting forth for the country, by their vastly different policy positions, and by their personal moral compass and how it will impact their leadership. For Christians, our election choices should always have most to do with protecting ‘the least of these’: [including] low-income individuals and families, undocumented peopled, who are in the biblical category of "the stranger," those most vulnerable to hunger and disease around the world, poor people most impacted by climate change, women and children being trafficked and exploited, and those who are victims of violence and the ‘collateral damage" of war."

(op cit., p. 18)

"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" Is there one thing you lack, something that’s getting in your way of living a truly free, authentic life? If it seems overwhelming, that’s ok. With God, all things are possible.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

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"A Complex and Complicating Web"-- Mark 10: 2-16-- Oct. 7, 2012

We know that there are some churches where divorced persons are not welcome-- not welcome at the communion table, or not welcome to attend at all. My guess is that used to be true at Second Congregational Church once upon a time, but, thankfully, I hope, that is no longer true here. I say "I hope" because I cannot speak from the perspective of one who may have felt welcome or not.

The divorce rate in the United States is now roughly 50%, that is, one in every two marriages will most likely end in divorce. The rate goes up for 2^nd and 3^rd marriages and varies by age of the persons who marry. One in two. With the possible exception of celebrities whose marriages have lasted a matter of moments or days, that represents a lot of heartache. I personally haven’t spoken to anyone who’s gotten a divorce who hasn’t had some regret or sadness, either because they got divorced or because they got married in the first place. There are also, frequently, expressions of shame or guilt, whether justified or not.

So, an argument could be made that I must be a little crazy to choose to preach on this text from Mark instead of the reading from Hebrews which talks about the supremacy of Christ or, better yet, some passage having to do with worldwide communion. But, on this communion Sunday, this passage may have something to tell us about the nature of communion and connection, and the cost of being connected, or, if you will, the cost of loving.

Once again, "the Pharisees"–the foil for Jesus in the gospels–have sent a delegation to test Jesus. "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?" And Jesus asks them in return, "What did Moses command you?" They rightly answer, "Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her." It’s true. The law in Deuteronomy allows a man whose wife "does not please him because he finds something objectionable about her," to write a certificate of divorce, give it to her, and send her out of his house, where, by the way, she is now without resources or home or protection. "Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you," Jesus says.

It’s helpful to understand what marriage was in Jesus’ time, because it’s very different from our current Western culture. Biblical scholar John Pilch explains–

In the ancient Mediterranean world, marriages were between families. Each family selected a partner, union with whom was intended to bind the families together, forming a stronger unit. Just as children cannot choose their parents, so too children in this culture could not choose their marriage partners. God chose one’s parents, and through one’s parents God chose one’s marriage partner. Hence Jesus’ cultural truism about marriage: ‘What God has joined together, let no one separate.’

Even such a brief statement of the nature of Mediterranean marriages makes it evident why divorce would be unacceptable. Divorce is not just the separation of two partners but rather the separation of two families. In a society driven by the values of honor and shame, the family of the bride will be shamed. The bride’s male relatives in particular will have to bear the shame as well as the responsibility to remedy it. Feuding will result and undoubtedly escalate to bloodshed. This must be avoided at all cost, hence the cultural rule is no divorce...

(John Pilch, The Cultural World of Jesus, Cycle B, pp. 145-6)

You may have heard of the Indian family sentenced to death this week for murdering their daughter and her fiancee because he was of a lower caste and brought shame to their family. Such honor killings, alas, are still all too common in many parts of the world.

The point is, when marriage is talked about in the Bible it is frequently in a very different context than our own, so we should be careful not to make pronouncements about it too easily. Not only does Jesus respond to the Pharisees’ question in the context of a tightly ordered family structure which bound people together in rigid, often deadly ways, but then he refers back to the creation story in Genesis, to God’s intention for human community and relationships. "But from the beginning of creation, God made them male and female. For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh."

Now, as the opponents of same-gender marriage like to say, this refers to Adam and Eve and not Adam and Steve, but that is an argument from silence. This story is seeking to answer the question, Where did human beings come from and why are things the way they are? By simple observation, one could see that male and female were necessary to grow the race. God’s intention, therefore, must have been for male and female to join together "and become one flesh." It really doesn’t conceive of, let alone address, the issue of same-gender relationships; and we know that Jesus also said nothing about them.

Setting up tests, setting up others so that you can separate yourself from them, was not what Jesus was about. Over and over, he sought to create community, to build bridges, to connect people with each other, with God, with their true selves. When the fabric of community was torn or shredded, the result was always heartbreak–it still is–, and it was never God’s intention for human beings.

So I see Jesus’ teaching on divorce in that context. "It is not right for the earth creature to be alone," God says in the second creation story. We are created for relationship. Whenever we enter into an intimate relationship with another, with all the risks and vulnerability that entails, we "tie the knot" of one part of that fabric. When we in the church bless a wedding, we affirm that God is the third party in that relationship. When, for whatever reason–neglect, abuse, growing in different directions, mistake from the get-go, one or both partners’ lack of commitment, stress, human failing, whatever–when the relationship between two people fails, it tears the thread. It results in various levels of pain.

We know that that level of pain can get ratcheted up by nasty divorce proceedings and bitter battles. Nobody wins there. But what I think Jesus is also saying here is that it’s not really possible to "sunder" what God has joined together; there’s no such thing as leaving a relationship behind as though it never happened. It did. We are part of each other, and god is still a party in the relationship. When I meet with couples who are getting married for a second or third time, I always ask about their former partners because they are in this marriage too. Divorce is a legal proceeding. Connection is a sacred design.

"Connection is why we’re here," says sociologist and TED Talk speaker Dr. Brene Brown. In her collection of hundreds of stories about vulnerability and connection, she concludes that what unravels connection is shame, which she defines as the fear of disconnection–Is there something about me that makes people not want to connect with me? Isn’t that part of the shame that some people feel when they are divorced? Is there something about me that is unloveable, that’s not worthy of connection? For those of us who have never been married, maybe never been in an intimate relationships, that may also be the fear or even the shame–that there’s something about me not worthy of connection.

Out of all the stories she collected about vulnerability and shame, Dr. Brown decided to focus on those people who, despite it all, still had a sense of worthiness about themselves and a strong sense of love and belonging. The main difference between them and those who didn’t was simply–or not so simply–that they believed they were worthy of love and belonging. They approached life with a whole-heartedness. And what they all had in common was courage, from the Latin root for heart–to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart –the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves and others. They made connections as a result of their authenticity, being true to themselves. They fully embraced their vulnerability, and in fact they believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. "Connection is why we’re here."

Regardless of our marital status, all of us experience vulnerability. The threads of the fabric are so beautiful yet also so fragile. In just a moment, everything can change. Yet the threads are also so intricately woven together, that the fabric of life is unimaginably strong. Our vulnerability is, indeed, what makes us beautiful, part of a greater Beauty. We can all learn to live wholeheartedly.

Rather than being a ticket to security, marriage is an exercise in vulnerability, to entrust yourself to, throw your lot in with, another person. It is to risk loving, which is always risky–that person may reject you, or change, or hurt you, or die. Whole-hearted living involves the risk of heartbreak.

I actually imagine God as heartbroken much of the time, heart-broken at our turning away from our truth, heart-broken at our hard-heartedness, our cruelty and neglect of one another and the earth, heart-broken at our wall-building obsession instead of our bridge-building calling.

So God is an expert in broken heartedness. Our broken hearts are not alien to God, are no barrier to God. Because God is also an expert in whole-heartedness. God is always patching up the fabric, re-tying the threads, adding a strand of shocking beauty when we least expect it. Always widening the circle to let another in.

That’s what Jesus did when the disciples tried to keep the children away. Children were the least powerful, the most vulnerable, the ones often sent by the adults in that culture to wander into homes or gatherings to find out secrets. "Let the children come to me," Jesus said. I’ve got nothing to hide and everything to share.

The invitation to connection, to community, extends to everyone who wants to come. This is the welcome table. Here’s as good a statement of welcome as I’ve seen–it comes from Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Community in Daytona Beach, FL--

　

We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay, filthy rich, dirt poor, yo no habla Ingles. We extend a special welcome to those who are crying new-borns, skinny as a rail or could afford to lose a few pounds.

We welcome you if you can sing like Andrea Bocelli or like our pastor who can’t carry a note in a bucket. You’re welcome here if you’re "just browsing," just woke up or just got out of jail. We don’t care if you’re more Catholic than the Pope, or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s baptism.

We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet, and to teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome soccer moms, NASCAR dads, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte-sippers, vegetarians, junk-food eaters. We weclome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems or you’re down in the dumps or if you don’t like "organized religion," we’ve been there too.

If you blew all your offering money at the dog track, you’re welcome here. We offer a special welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell, or because grandma is in town and wanted to go to church.

We welcome those who are inked, pierced or both. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a kid or got lost in traffic and wound up here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers and doubters, bleeding hearts...and you!

"Let the children come to me," Jesus said. I’ve got nothing to hide and everything to share. Everything that I have and everything that I am is yours.

Here--This is my body, broken for you. This is my blood, the cup of the new covenant in my blood, poured out for you and for everyone for the forgiveness of sin, or, another way of putting is, for the repairing of the breach between you and God and one another. All are welcome here.

                                                                                                                                     Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Who’s in and what’s ‘in’?"-- Mark 9: 38-50-- Sept. 30, 2012

This passage from Mark is just one of the many reasons I am not a fundamentalist, or someone who takes the Bible literally. And, in fact, nobody really is a true Biblical literalist. As John Dominic Crossan puts it so nicely, "Just because Jesus is the Lamb of God doesn’t mean that Mary had a little lamb."

If we were to take this passage from Mark literally, every Christian congregation– evangelical, progressive, conservative, liberal–would be full of torsos with no hands or feet and faces with eyes gouged out. I’m not sure how big that would go over with the television stations.

"If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, [Jesus said] it would better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell. And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched."

There is a form of proverbial wisdom, one Biblical scholar explains, "called the ‘better than’ proverb. It presents two sharply opposed choices, one of which is clearly good and the other clearly not." (Alyce McKenzie, Edgy Exegesis, 9/24/12) "A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold" (Prov. 22:1) is one example from the book of Proverbs. "Better is open rebuke than hidden love." (Prov. 27:5)

This, of course, was part of the wisdom tradition in which Jesus grew up. And, in good Jewish tradition, he took the form and made it his own–he "borrowed their forms and used them in edgy ways to subvert conventional wisdom’s do’s and don’ts." (McKenzie, op cit.) The sharp-tongued preacher in the book of Ecclesiastes did the same thing– "I thought the dead who have already died, [he wrote] more fortunate than the living, who are still alive, but better than both is the one who has not yet been and has not seen the evil deeds that are done under the sun." (Eccl. 9:18)

Jesus was schooled in that tradition, but as Alyce McKenzie writes, "What Jesus does is take a traditional proverbial form used to offer clear-cut options and adds a dash of paradox and big dollop of hyperbole...The paradox is that he presents something clearly painful and distasteful [being drowned in the sea, or cutting off your hand or your foot] as the better choice. He uses hyperbole by exaggerating the choice to the Nth degree–all these self-amputations are better than being whole in hell." (Op cit.)

"These are not legal rules meant to be enforced literally as general regulations [another scholar explains]. They are meant to make us look at human behavior in a whole new way." (Robert Tannehill, cited by McKenzie, op cit.)

When people (we) exaggerate, we are stretching the truth. "When I was your age, I walked to school everyday, 5 mi. each way, uphill all the way, carrying my sister, who was pregnant at the time." That’s hyperbole, exaggeration, stretching the truth. But here, Jesus means to show us how really destructive our actions can be. It really matters if the way you act or what you say causes someone else who’s still searching for faith or trust in God to turn away from God. "People were so offended by Jesus’ exaggeration, [McKenzie writes] not because it wasn’t true, but because it was." (Ibid.)

This YouTube video defaming the prophet Mohammed that has caused so much uproar and violence is an example of how what we say or do in the name of God really matters. It can have devastating consequences. We tend to think that religion is just a topic for conversation, maybe steering away from off-color religious jokes, but, you know, it’s just religion. Obviously, it’s not just religion and certainly not a joke for millions and millions of people, not only fundamentalist Muslims but for millions of Jews who were killed in the Holocaust because of their religion. It was literally a matter of life and death.

And while we must defend free speech, as President Obama said this week, with the ability now at the touch of a button to spread lies and hatred all over the world, we need to examine and perhaps update both our understanding of free speech and of what we will take offense at, while at the same time, condemning violence against innocents in all cases.

This whole discussion of Jesus’ about the consequences of putting stumbling blocks in front of "little ones" is framed here in Mark in the context (not surprisingly) of community. What are the obligations of community and what are the limits of that community?

The disciples have just complained that they saw someone casting out demons in Jesus’ name who was not in their group. Jesus tells them to expand their notion of "group." "Whoever is not against us is for us," he told them. For Jesus, connection is paramount. The alternative is to be in hell. How different a sense of community that is from the statement made during the War in Iraq–"If you’re not with us, you’re against us." That kind of statement puts up walls, whereas Jesus’ statement builds bridges. In a religiously super-charged world, we can and should be building bridges with moderate Muslims, Jews, and atheists, instead of merely returning violence for violence against radical Islamists. In a politically super-charged season and country, with extremists at both ends of the political spectrum hurling venom and lies at each other, we can and should be building bridges and supporting those willing to engage in conversation across the aisles. "Whoever is not against us is for us," Jesus said. Build allies. Build community.

And what is the nature of that community? Is it "anything is ok"? Is it so open-minded as to be empty? Hardly. "Everyone will be salted with fire," Jesus said. "Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

What makes us "salty"? What is the nature of our community? Is it our radical hospitality? Is it our "friendliness"? Is it our commitment to mission, at least to financially support all kinds of mission projects? What is it? Or, Have we lost our saltiness, or is it diluted? How are we different from any other service club? What flavor and spice to we bring to our community, to our own lives? These are all important questions. "Everyone will be salted with fire," Jesus said. "Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another."

A group of ministers, laypeople, artists, musicians, and their children, initially from the Old South UCC Church in Boston, have gotten together to form what they call "The Salt Project." On their website, they explain that they are "dedicated to reclaiming and sharing the beauty of Christian life through film, photography, music, poetry and ideas. We aim to build a community of conversation and resource-sharing that, like salt itself, preserves and seasons the best and most beautiful of the Christian tradition." I urge you, if you do this sort of thing, to check out their website at saltproject.org. What might our "salt project" look like?

"Everyone will be salted by fire," Jesus said. When potters throw salt into the kiln, they know that salt alters the surface of the pot in ways that cannot be entirely predicted or controlled. "The potter has to trust that when the salt is given to the fire [one artist explains], it will do its work; that, blessed by the intention and focus the potter brings, the salt will make a way for the wild beauty that will come." (Jan Richardson, Painted Prayerbook, 9/25/12)

"If salt has lost its saltiness," Jesus said, "how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another." "One another" is not just with the two people sitting on either side of you. Community is much bigger than that, including those you might not expect to be included. But that’s the kind of salty community Jesus formed and is forming. It’s so important that it’s worth giving an arm and a leg for.

So may we receive – and be– this blessing from artist Jan Richardson, called "Blessing of Salt and Fire"–

And so, in this season,

may we give ourselves

to the fire

that shows us

what is elemental

and sacramental,

that reveals what remains

after all that does not have

substance or savor

falls away.

May we turn

our eyes

our ears

our hands

to the beauty

for which we were formed

and bear with grace

the patterns

that blossom upon us

who live salted

and singed.

(Ibid.)

May it be so. Amen

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Speaking of Religion..."

Wed., Sept. 26, 2012 --  I got alot of comments, mostly positive, about a "Speaking of Religion" column I wrote for the Bennington Banner last month.  So here it is.  I'd welcome your comments and thoughts--

Since Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity in the 4^th c. of the Common Era, the Christian Church has been part of The Establishment, at least in the West.  That has been both a blessing and a curse—a blessing, in that it has allowed Christians to worship openly and freely, a curse in the sense that power has all too often corrupted and distorted the original message of Jesus.  Streams within the Christian tradition have all along witnessed to the alternative notion of power as serving, as sacrificing self-centered desires, as standing alongside the powerless and witnessing for justice.

 

United Church of Christ Pastor Robin Meyers has written a book entitled, The Underground Church: Reclaiming the Subversive Way of Jesus, urging the church to “recapture the spirit of the early church,” before we became part of the establishment. He challenges his readers to imagine what such a church might look like.

 

“So  just imagine…[Meyers writes]

--A church where women are truly equal to men, and never patronized.

--A church where straights and gays worship together as children of God…

--A church where following Jesus is just as important as worshiping Christ.

--A church where trying to discern what Jesus taught us about God is more important than arguing over what the church has taught us about Jesus…

--A church where we earn our tax-exempt status by giving space back to the communities we serve in ways that create community and bring people into true fellowship with one another.

--A church where learning is not subversive and science is not the enemy of faith.

--A church where fear is never an instrument of religious conversion or conversation.

--A church where the enemy is not death but rather our failure to truly live…

--A church where we tend the small garden we have been given and do not participate in the murder of creation….

--A church where being rich means having everything you need instead of everything you want.

--A church where there is no acceptable alternative to hope, no substitute for joy, and no excuse not to offer the same unconditional love to others that has been so freely lavished on us.”

 

We at Second Congregational Church, UCC, in our commitment to follow in the way of Jesus, try to be such a church.  We’re not perfect and probably never will be.  There are other things on Meyers’ list that we’d like to say we are but can’t yet.  We know it’s a journey.  We welcome companions on that journey, “whoever you are, wherever you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here,” we say each Sunday morning.  And we gladly walk alongside other communities of faith who share the vision of God’s realm made real on earth, where all are welcome, where all have enough to live, where all come to know themselves as beloved children of God.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark, Pastor

Second Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Bennington

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"The Happiness Revolution" --James 3:13-4:3; Mark 9:30-37-- Sept. 23, 2012

"Revolution" is all over the news. The Middle East is rife with it, as the Arab Spring has turned into summer, autumn, winter, spring, and summer/autumn again. Images from Africa and Latin America of young men–and sometimes young women-- armed with machetes and machine guns disturb and even frighten us. The "Occupy Wall St." movement just marked its one-year anniversary. Upheaval, overthrow, disturbance, confrontation, sometimes peaceful, too often violent. Such news can be scary, as these human wildfires threaten to burst into higher flames at the slightest gust of insult, foolish speech, perceived humiliation. Revolution.

Remember, though, that our country was born out of revolution–a refusal to have no say in how we are governed, a demand that the fruits of our labors not be merely sent overseas to a distant monarch, a protest against the seizing of ships and cargo and sailors engaged in legitimate trade, a desire to create a new form of government and way of living together, a recognition that this new physical environment offered new possibilities. "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" were lifted up as inalienable rights.

Jesus was and is viewed by many as a "revolutionary," teaching and modeling a way of life that upset the status quo, that moved beyond rigid family structures and hierarchical ways of thinking. The kingdom of God which he preached stood in stark contrast to the kingdom of Caesar. When Jesus’ followers called Jesus "Lord" and "Son of God," that was in direct contradiction to the Roman Empire’s claim that Caesar was "Lord" and "Son of God." Jesus was most likely crucified because of this "revolutionary" teaching and activity.

And what was Jesus’ revolutionary "platform"? It was that God, not Caesar, not money or wealth, is to be served. "You cannot serve two masters," he said, "for you will either love the one and hate the other, or hate the one and love the other. You cannot serve God and mammon, or money." His revolutionary platform was that the first in the revolution would be those who the current system considered last–and he drew a child into their midst, saying, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." Children were considered the lowest of the low, with no status, no rights. "In antiquity," writes one Biblical scholar, "childhood was a time of terror. Infant mortality rates sometimes reached 30% of live births. Sixty percent were dead by the age of sixteen. These figures reflect not only the ravages of unconquered diseases but also the outcomes of poor hygiene...A minor child was considered equal to a slave." (John Pilch, The Cultural World of Jesus, Cycle B, p. 139)

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me." To welcome a child is to welcome God! That’s revolutionary talk!

Or what about Jesus’ follower who wrote, "Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, in order to spend what you get on your pleasures."

In a world where craving new things or more things, where resources and power are considered to be limited, where success of one person or group always comes at the expense of another, these words that we find in the Letter of James are revolutionary talk. It was even too revolutionary for the Church as the years and centuries went on, and it accumulated more wealth, more power, all in the name of God. So Jesus’ revolution went underground. Some followers of Jesus formed monastic communities, sharing everything in common, devoting themselves to serving God. Other communities and pockets of followers took Jesus’ revolutionary talk at his word, and cared for children and orphans, fed the hungry, tended the sick, stood with the oppressed, used the resources entrusted to them not to accumulate wealth but used them to make the revolutionary kingdom of God or reign of God more visible on earth. They sought happiness and meaning not seeking more "stuff" or power or wealth or celebrity, but in serving others, in discovering God in the most unlikely places--within themselves and in others whose divinity wasn’t all that obvious.

Imagine, then, my initial surprise but then "ah ha" moment when I read this in Tal Ben-Shahar’s book, Happier. Tal teaches the course I’m taking in Positive Psychology and is one of the field’s leading scholars and teachers. He was talking about the many benefits of the scientific revolution– things like greater life expectancy through discoveries in medicine, better productivity in agriculture through greater understanding of soil cultivation, improved seeds, advances in astronomy so that we have been to the moon and beyond, have greater understandings of our place in the universe, and so forth. But, he writes,

...our perception of science as omnipotent can lead to a new set of challenges. One of these challenges, a by-product of the scientific revolution, is the prevalence of material perception, the belief that the material is the highest on the hierarchy of importance...The problem arises when the freedom to pursue material wealth is replaced with a compulsion to amass it. The alternative to material perception is happiness perception, which is about moving away from seeing the material as the highest end, as our central pursuit.

(op cit., p. 159)

Now, I’m not crazy about the word "happiness"–it’s a little too "smiley-face." I prefer Martin Seligman’s phrase "well-being," so you might want to substitute that whenever you hear the word "happiness."

Tal often speaks of happiness perception as the spiritual opposite of material perception. "Happiness perception [he writes] involves finding the overlap among the three questions ‘What gives me meaning?’ ‘What gives me pleasure?’ ‘What are my strengths?’ It is about asking, ‘What is my calling?’" (160)

"I believe that the spread of happiness perception can bring about a society-wide revolution," Tal writes, no less significant than what Karl Marx had hoped to achieve."

What would happen if most people internalized the change from material to happiness perception? First, envy, among individuals and cultures, would be reduced considerably...The need to bring others down comes from a materialistic perception of a world in which resources are a zero-sum game and one’s success implies another’s failure, where one’s gain is another’s loss. More generally, if happiness perception prevails, individual and international conflicts would be reduced significantly. Most wars are fought over land, oil, gold, and other material goods. The leaders in these countries who are responsible for fueling these conflicts accept the false premise that the ultimate currency for their country–and for themselves–is how much material wealth they possess.

...The quantity of happiness is not fixed: an abundance of happiness for one person or country does not deprive another. The pursuit of happiness does not set up a zero-sum game but a positive -sum game–everyone can be better off. As the Buddha said, ‘Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.’ Unlike material possessions, which are usually finite, happiness is infinite."

(Ibid.)

It is clear that the material revolution has not brought us happiness. Research has shown that those who pursue wealth as their ultimate end and obsession actually have a lower sense of self-actualization, are more depressed, and have more physical symptoms (although those who see wealth as an indicator of hard work, as a vehicle to do good, do not necessarily experience those negative symptoms). The average age of the onset of depression in our culture is now 15. Except for those in the lowest income brackets, having more money does not lead to greater happiness. This idea of happiness, rather than the material, as the ultimate currency is reflected in the question, Would you rather be a miserable millionaire or a happy pauper? Which is it for you?

"Those conflicts and disputes among you, where do they come from? [writes the author of the Letter of James] Do they not come from your cravings that are at war within you? You want something and do not have it, so you commit murder. And you covet something and cannot obtain it; so you engage in disputes and conflicts."

The Asian country of Bhutan, tucked between the two super-powers China and India, actually measures its success not in terms of Gross National Product, but in Gross National Happiness. There’s a revolution that doesn’t get too many headlines.

"I have sheep that are not of this fold," Jesus says in the gospel of John, and I have no doubt the revolutionary movement of the Holy Spirit is at work in surprising ways. Maybe the 500 year rummage sale that the church is going through includes the ways that the secular field of Positive Psychology is permeated by the wisdom of Jesus. Maybe the revolution is popping out in the tiny Buddhist nation of Bhutan, concerned about happiness rather than product. Krista Tippett’s conversation on "Speaking of Faith" this morning on VPR was with two young evangelical Christian leaders who are part of the "next Christianity," as she calls it–less strident, more concerned about walking the walk than talking the talk, being engaged in working for the common good, building bridges rather than putting up walls. What a concept! It sounds a bit like the really old Christianity, the one that Jesus lived and talked about.

No revolution is peaceful for everyone. Those who benefit from the status quo do not readily give up those benefits or that comfort for a new way of being. That the "Jesus Revolution" or the "Happiness Revolution" is not all fun and games is made clear by Jesus’ insistence that "The Son of Humanity is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again." Happiness, or well-being, which really expresses it better, is not a matter of surface bubbles, but of the deep, underlying well of Life and Love from which we can draw even in the most difficult and tragic times. Betrayal, loss, even death cannot penetrate deeply enough to empty that well. Suffering is part of the fully human life, but it does not have to define our lives.

A friend of mine did her Psychology residency at the Dana-Farber Institute, where she worked with children with cancer. She learned many lessons from these children, but one that stands out for me is this–"If you can live in the moment [Maria writes] doing what you love, as children can, and you are surrounded by those you trust, then suffering is ameliorated and it becomes a part, not the whole, of your life." (Maria Sirois, Every Day Counts, p. 24).

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, [Jesus said] and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

The wisdom to live into this revolution is both ancient and new–"The wisdom from above [or deep below, to keep the image of the well] is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace." God’s intention for us and for our world persistently, powerfully, gracefully is still seeking to become manifest, to blossom forth in ways both wondrous and beyond our imagination. May we offer our lives to the cause and join the revolution. May we be part of this harvest of peace.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Who do you say that I am?"-- Mark 8:27-38-- September 16, 2012

Smack dab in the middle of Mark’s gospel–between Jesus’ ministry of "opposing all that oppresses God’s people," (David Lose, WorkingPreacher.com, 9/9/12) as one writer puts it--the healings, the exorcisms, the feeding, and so forth–and the journey to the cross, right here in the middle we find this conversation between Jesus and his disciples. "And on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’" And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him."

It may sound like a conversation to pass the time while walking from one town to the next ("on the way"), but it was far more than that–really the pivot of Jesus’ whole ministry, in fact. Who do you say that I am? It’s not just a question of names or terms, but of authority. Why does anything I say or do matter? What difference does it make–in your life, in the life of your community, or to the world, for that matter? "Who do you say that I am?"

The Christian Century, a venerable and well-respected bi-weekly journal that we receive here at the church, recently ran an article entitled, "The Gospel in 7 Words." The pre-text was this–

"In his autobiography Brother to a Dragonfly, Will Campbell recalls how his friend P.D. East had badgered him for a succinct definition of Christianity. East did not want a long or fancy explanation. ‘I’m not too bright,’ he told Campbell. ‘Keep it simple. In ten words or less, what’s the Christian message?’ Campbell obliged his friend: ‘We’re all bastards but God loves us anyway,’ he said. To which East replied, ‘If you want to try again, you have two words left."

(The Christian Century, Sept. 5, 2012, p. 20)

So, "the Century invited some authors to try their hand at summarizing the Christian message in seven words or less." (Ibid.) Here are a few of their answers–"We live by grace," wrote Craig Barnes. Donald Shriver wrote, "Divinely persistent, God really loves us." Author Mary Karr wrote, "We are the church of infinite chances." Environmental activist Bill McKibben thinks "Love your neighbor as yourself" summarizes the gospel. Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann writes with characteristic density, "Israel’s God’s bodied love continues world-making." (Century, pp. 20-25) ("I used only six words. I rested on the 7th.")

The Gospel in 7 words or less. Who do you say that I am? Jesus asked. How would you answer? Could you put the gospel in 7 words or less?

We know Peter’s answer. "You are the Messiah," which didn’t seem to please Jesus all that much. "He sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him." And the conversation got even more uncomfortable as it went on. "Then he began to teach them that the Son of Humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great 19^th c. American Transcendentalist, wrote, "In a friend, I’m not looking for a mush of concession, a person who will agree with everything I say. Rather, I’m looking for a person who will challenge me, who will become a beautiful enemy, a person who will help me in my apprenticeship to the truth."

Jesus was looking for a beautiful enemy, not someone who would simply tell him what they thought Jesus would want to hear. If Jesus had any sense that he was the Messiah, he knew it was not the kind of Messiah that most people expected, the one who would free Israel from the occupation of the Romans, the kind of king whose armies and powers would overpower all other kings and armies, matching violence for violence, no matter how good a God he might be proclaiming. "Don’t just tell people I’m the Messiah," Jesus says. "They won’t understand what that really means."

Interestingly enough, 106 years ago on September 11, Gandhi delivered his speech that launched the non-violent resistence movement that changed India forever. "I am prepared to die for this cause," he said, "but there is not a cause for which I will kill." He also affirmed, "We are Hindu and Muslim, all children of God, and in the name of that God, let us swear a solemn vow that we will resist this unjust law, but we will not kill." It is significant that Gandhi’s model for non-violence was Jesus. We may disagree on whether non-violence is the same as pacifism (I don’t think it is) and whether it has any moral backbone to it (I think it’s got more than I have), but it is clear what the way of Jesus is. Whether it is a way that can be followed by a nation is not clear, even though that nation may call itself "Christian." India under Gandhi’s leadership followed the way of non-violence, but we know that India no longer follows that way.

"He began to teach them that the Son of Humanity must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things."

Stephen Cope, director of Kripalu’s Institute of Extraordinary Living, writes that they have made some surprising discoveries in their research on people who are trying to discover and nourish the gifts they’ve been given, artists, musicians, teachers, whatever. One surprise is that the gift requires practice. The most successful musicians, artists, whatever are not those simply with the greatest innate gifts, but those who worked at developing and honing their gifts. The gift requires practice.

The second surprise was this: that a person’s unique gift is quite often paired with their woundedness. "Strangely, our greatest strength (and greatest possibility) seems to be routinely paired with our greatest limitation–even our greatest wound." (The Great Work of Your Life @mariashriver.com/blog/2012/09) For example, one successful writer’s poetry comes out of the difficult circumstances of her life, an abusive childhood and the early loss of her mother. Our greatest gifts may be paired with our woundedness. Might this be a different way to think of our unique cross, which Jesus told us we must take up to follow him?

And related to this is the third surprise in the Extraordinary Living research–"The full flowing of the gift [writes Cope] is usually paired with a sacrifice of some kind," the giving up of something else–even something important–to fully serve the gift. "For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it."

The word for "life" here is psyche, meaning "life force," or "vital force." To gain that vitality, that life, we have to give up clinging to it and everything else we think our lives depend upon, for when we "get clingy," as one commentator puts it, "then we have no free arm to reach out to another." (Alyce McKenzie, Edgy Exegesis, 9/10/12)

This conversation began with Jesus’ question to his disciples–"Who do you say that I am?" And though Peter had the "right" answer–You are the Messiah–it wasn’t an answer they were to tell anyone else, because it wouldn’t communicate the Truth of who Jesus was and is. Much of our "church-y" language today doesn’t communicate the Truth of who Jesus is, either–language like "lord" and "savior". What does that really mean to anyone not raised in the church (or even to those of us who were)? "Who do you say that I am?"

Here are a few more of the 7-words-or-less answers the Christian Century writers submitted–Kathleen Norris wrote, "God is love: This is no joke." "To dwell in possibility," another wrote, after Emily Dickinson’s poem, I Dwell in Possibility. "God refuses to be God without us," wrote United Methodist bishop William Willimon. "Everybody gets to grow and change," wrote UCC pastor Lilian Daniel, though in parentheses she added, "(but not everyone will grow and change.)" "Christ’s humanity occasions our divinity," wrote Scott Cairnes. "God gets the last word." – Martin Copenhaver. "We are who God says we are," wrote another (Nadia Bolz-Weber).

Who do you say that I am? In a world where labels like Christian or Muslim or Jew, conservative or liberal, get hurled around, we ought to be able to speak clearly and succinctly about what being a Christian, a follower of Jesus, means to us. How would you respond to a friend who asked you, "In ten words or less, what’s the Christian message?" Here’s the six word phrase I came up with–

"Love includes you and outlasts death." Love includes you and outlasts death.

Here’s your assignment for the week. In 7 words or less, what is the Gospel for you? There’s a sheet on the folding choir doors in Webster Hall for you to add your phrase. Mine is up there. You can add your name or initials or not.

"Who do you say that I am?"

                                                                                                                                  --Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Invitation to Dance" --2 Samuel 6:1-5, 12-16, Mt. 11:16-19-- Sept. 9, 2012

Listen again to that poem of the 14^th c. Persian poet Hafiz–

Every child

Has known God

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don’ts

Not the God who never

does anything weird,

But the God who only knows

four words

and keeps repeating them,

saying

"Come dance with Me"

Come

Dance.

 

Maybe you prefer a more contemporary sage. How’s this from Snoopy?– "To live is to dance; to dance is to live."

Gertrude Mueller Nelson tells of working on a sewing project when her 3-year old daughter Annika discovered all the brightly-colored strips of fabric in the waste basket. She eagerly gathered them up and disappeared. A little while later, Gertrude found Annika out in the backyard, attaching the strips of fabric to a stick with mounds of tape. "I’m making a banner for a procession," she said. "I need a procession so that God will come down and dance with us." (Nelson, To Dance with God, p. 3)

"What this little primitive reminded me," Nelson writes, "was how innate and easy [children’s] way is with the sacred...and what a sense of wonder." As we begin another season of Godly Play today, encouraging our children to wonder about things, about the stories from the Bible, about the world around them, we would do well to join them in their dance with God. Middle school students are finding connections between the issues and attitudes they encounter every day–issues like hunger or poverty or cliques or bullying or dating–and how they connect with their faith. We would do well to join them in their dance with God. Students in high school are being invited to consider confirming their faith, to spend this year exploring the traditions of our faith and asking their own questions, wondering about things, about the Bible, about themselves, about God, about their world, about anything and everything. We would do well to join them in their dance with God.

Now, we may not be at all sure about this "dancing" business. Maybe like Michal, Saul’s beautiful daughter who hated David for dancing in front of the Ark of the Covenant in only a loincloth, maybe we think there’s something "unseemly," maybe something irreverent, about dancing, let alone dancing with God. There is certainly plenty of precedent for that in the Christian tradition. The movie "Footloose" told a story about that. And the very title of the movie "Dirty Dancing" sums up what some people think about all dancing.

Of course, we may not want to dance because we’re too self-conscious. "I can’t dance, don’t ask me..." We’re clumsy, or we don’t know the steps. We’ll look foolish. We like things a little more under control. Maybe our body is too stiff, too sore, too uncooperative.

And maybe dancing is just too frivolous. There are chores to be done, serious matters to consider, the world going to hell in a handbasket. Who has time to dance?

Or maybe it’s too primitive, not intellectual or rational enough. The great historian of religions from Harvard, Arthur Darby Nock, wrote, "Primitive religion is not believed. It is danced." We’re more worried about "belief," not how to dance.

"To what will I compare this generation?" Jesus asked. "It is like children sitting in the marketplaces, and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Humanity came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds."

Are you alive? Jesus asks. Do you find joy in anything?

Kerra Becker English is a Presbyterian minister in Richmond, VA who took up ballroom dancing lessons when she was in seminary as a break from the head trip that seminary can sometimes be. She has made some observations about what can be learned from dancing, either on the ballroom dance floor with a human partner, or in life, with God as your Partner–capital P!

The first lesson is "Maintain your frame. Or, as a counselor might say it, ‘Know your boundaries.’ Hold on too tightly, vice-grip. Hold on too loosely, spaghetti arms." (English, in "Congregations," Issue 3, 2012, p. 6) If we are so uptight, so rigid, so controlling, so closed off to anything new or spontaneous in our life of faith, we might as well be one of those pillars in the middle of the dance floor instead of a dancer. On the other hand, if we have no spine, no sense of who we are, no substance or boundaries, if anything goes, we’re not much of a dancing partner. It’s hard to engage in a relationship if there’s nothing there, nothing to build on. It’s hard to maintain any connection. "A spiritual frame as I understand it [writes English] is about active engagement, connection, and readiness." (Ibid.) That’s true for us as individuals and as a church. We need to know who we are, and from that place of knowing, be ready to engage, connect, learn, grow.

The second lesson, says English, is to move. That’s what dancing is, isn’t it? Moving? Now, I know that there are people whose bodies are unable to move but whose spirits soar. I would still call that moving. Dancing with God or "following Jesus" ..is not about standing still in a tradition," English writes, "it’s about taking in all that spiritual energy and allowing it to move and expand and grow." Jesus encouraged his disciples to take what he had taught them and then do it better. He expected them to grow and evolve.

We as adults would do well to follow in the footsteps of our younger companions on this journey–not just because "they are our future," as we hear often, but because of what they can share with us right now– in Godly Play, which is what our children up through 5^th grade are engaging in; in exploring issues of daily life–"attitudes and issues," as it’s called–which our middle school students are doing; and questioning and arriving at some point of confirmation, which our high school students are invited to. What would it look like for you to engage in Godly Play? Have you ever read an article in the newspaper and then reflected upon what your faith has to bring to it? Is there anything you know for sure, what you can confirm, that is your true north, your center of gravity, from which all of your actions and meaning in life flow?

Which in a way leads into the 3^rd lesson that English suggests–"Dance on your own two feet." Learn balance. Know where your center of gravity is. "The spiritual life is upheld by learning and repeating those practices that enable the practitioners to keep their own balance. Even the very best dance partner cannot maintain balance for two! Sadly, [she writes], we live in a world that is constantly throwing us off balance." This fall’s political campaign is an example, writ large, of the dangers of hanging out on the extremes. But we need to learn to live in that tension between the extremes, to find our balance between too much work and not enough work, too much time on our hands and no time to ourselves.

Boredom–that great complaint of our time–"comes from taking for granted what is around us," Gertrude Nelson writes. "We are numb. We do not allow ourselves to be touched and quickened." (Op cit.) So even though we are moving in this dance of life, we also need to take the time to notice, to appreciate, to savor. The music is made not only by the notes but also by the rests. It’s a dance between sound and silence. So as we practice our moves, we must also practice our pauses, including those times when we lean into our partner and trust that we will be held up.

"Take one step at a time," is the 4^th dancing lesson. We might call it mindfulness. Be here now. "Life is what happens when you’ve made other plans," someone has said, and how many times has that proven itself to be true? God’s timing is not always our timing, so you might as well sit loose, and take one step at a time.

This dance is not just a self-absorbed undertaking. English says she learns to "Sympathize with those who are dancing life backwards and in heels," which, you may recall, is what has been said about Ginger Rogers, who had to stay right with her more famous partner Fred Astaire, but all the while, dancing backwards and in heels. "Sympathize with those who are dancing life backwards and in heels," In other words, we can learn compassion, as this dance takes us beyond our own individual orbits, where we can indeed go deep, but we must also move out to touch other lives. There are those who may have fallen down, who need time out to re-group or rest, those who don’t have adequate food or health care or shelter in which to sleep. This is a dance of bending and leaning, of supporting and being supported.

And while lots of dancing today would appear to be a mass of individuals doing their own thing, there is in fact a collective energy that connects all the dancers. And, as we know, "it takes two to tango." Just as you practice dance steps, like the tango, or fox trot, or swing dance, or even contra dance, so we come together each week to practice our dance with God and each other. We work on getting to know our partner better, on trying out new moves, on being still together, on listening for the beat and the music.

For, as English says in her last lesson, "Dancing is fun, and life is a dance!" – a variation of Snoopy’s "to live is to dance; to dance is to live." "Dancing is an expression of the joy of life [English writes]–the whole range of joy–from the bouncy happy Jive, to the lovers’ quarrel in Tango, to the lilting rhythm of the Waltz." (p. 8) "It may be," says Sam Keen, "that the sparcity of joy in contemporary life is closely related to the loss of dance as a central vehicle for the education and articulation of values and beliefs," as it is in more "primitive" (but more wise?) cultures. (Keen, To a Dancing God, p. 52) It is a dance of joy, because ultimately, through the worst we might imagine, "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well." (Julian of Norwich).

Every child Has known God – Not the God of names,--Not the God of don’ts--

Not the God who never does anything weird, But the God who only knows four words

and keeps repeating them, saying– "Come dance with Me" - Come – Dance.

Amen, and amen.                                                                  Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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Friends for the Journey

Wed., Sept. 5, 2012 – My nephew is getting married this Saturday, so I’ve been thinking about wedding wisdom. My father-in-law, who had performed hundreds of weddings in his career, always said it was a waste of time to give advice or counseling ahead of time. It only made sense once you had lived into the marriage for awhile. That’s probably very true, although most of the couples whose weddings I do now have been living together for awhile.

Marriage counselor David Schnar wrote that "Marriage is a people-growing machine." He’s not just referring to the children who may be the fruits of a marriage, but most importantly to the two people who are married to one another. They are the ones who can grow in marriage.

"In a friend," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson, [and it’s true for a partner] "in a friend, I’m not looking for a mush of concessions, a person who will agree with everything I say. Rather, I’m looking for a person to challenge me, who will be a beautiful enemy, to help me in my apprenticeship to the truth." I love that image– "a beautiful enemy, to help me in my apprenticeship to the truth."

"The truth" is the truth about who you are as a person, who you are as a beloved child of God, given a unique set of gifts and graces; only you can bring forth the particular combination of qualities and dreams whose seeds have been planted in you. To be a "beautiful enemy" is to truly see and love that unique person who is your friend or your partner–which may be different from the idealized person you maybe wish they would be for your sake. To be a beautiful enemy is to be honest with yourself and the other when you see them turning aside from their sacred essence, to call them back to their apprenticeship with the truth, and remind them who they are and Whose they are. To be able to do that for one another is a holy trust, a sacred path, and, ultimately, a joyful dance.

I love the rabbinic story in which Rabbi Alyosha tells his disciples, "When I come before the Almighty, I will not be asked, ‘Why were you not more like Moses?’ Rather, the question will be, ‘Why were you not Alyosha?’" We may seek to follow in the Way of Jesus, but we are not to be "like Jesus." We are to be true to ourselves as Jesus was true to who he was.

We can be "beautiful enemies" to one another, calling us back to our true Selves. That is my wish for Patrick and Kristen this weekend.

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"The Implanted Word"-- James 1:17-27, Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23-- Sept. 2, 2012

 

I’d like to use what is called "appreciative inquiry" into our readings from James and Mark this morning, and zoom in on one image–what James calls "the implanted word"–and see what fruit might be born from it.

In fulfillment of God’s own purpose, [James writes] God gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of God’s creatures...Therefore...welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls. Or, as Peterson puts it, In simple humility, let our gardener, God, landscape you with the Word, making a salvation-garden of your life. [The Message]

Now, there is always a danger in taking verses out of context. James is particularly concerned about those who say the right words, but whose actions speak of a very different word. So, we don’t want to lose that important context or wisdom from James.

And in the passage from Mark, Jesus tells those who complain about his and his disciples lack of proper ritual hygiene that it’s not what goes in from the outside of a person that defiles them, but rather what comes out of a person. "All these evil things come from within, from the human heart," Jesus says.

But if we shine an appreciative light on this one image of the implanted word, we may find a way to put it back in its context–both in Scripture and in our lives–that has more integrity perhaps than simply glossing over as we read. In fulfillment of God’s own purpose [James writes] God gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of God’s creatures...Therefore...welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.

Every Sunday, perhaps every day, we pray the prayer of Jesus. "Thy kingdom come," we pray in good King James English. And yet the language of Jesus–Aramaic–contains this earthy meaning for that phrase-- "In our depths, sow your seed with its greening-power, so that we may be midwives to your Reign." God’s seed or intention is planted in each of us, with its greening, growing power, able to blossom forth in ways unique to each one of us, each one contributing to the beauty of God’s kingdom on earth. That is our True Self, the core of who we are.

But very early on, layers and layers of hard shells build up around that core–initial layers of limitations put on us by parents or family or early environments. "Oh, you can’t do that. You mustn’t do that. You’re this or you’re that," when our True Self may not be "this" or "that." And then we layer on fears over the limitations, fears that we’ll disappointment or anger or call attention to or be found out. And so we create an image which we present to the world, to safely guard all those layers, but too often in the process, lose sight of that true, inner core, that seed or intention planted by God, "the implanted word," if you will.

It is in the process of covering over, denying, not appreciating that true core that all sorts of distortions and defilements take place. "For it is from within," Jesus says in Mark, "that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person."

All of those "evil things" are distortions of the original intention planted by God.

We all know how easy it is to lose sight of that true core of Light. We know what it is like to act not from our highest Self but from our meanest desire. We acknowledge that reality when we pray our prayers of confession, which, while any one prayer may not speak specifically to our experience, we pray them in acknowledgment of the human experience, and remind ourselves that we are not exempt from that more collective experience.

But, I wonder, what if we prayed a Prayer of Affirmation as well each week? "I am beloved, a precious child of God, beautiful to behold, and I serve the God of Love and Light." Any of us could pray that each day, and some of us do. We might also get more specific, if we take the time to reflect upon the particular "implanted word" in each of us.

One exercise we did during our Positive Psychology immersion was to think of someone we admired–someone we knew personally, like a teacher or family member or friend–or a public or literary figure, like the Dalai Lama or Eleanor Roosevelt-- and describe that person to 2 other people. We each listed the qualities of that person that struck us as being qualities of the ideal person. After doing that for all 3 people in the group, we were each to think of yet another person we admired, and describe that person to the group. Again, we listed the qualities–he is, she is, he does, she has...– until we each had a list of maybe 20 different qualities we thought would be attributes of an ideal person. Then we were to narrow it down to 5-8 of the most important qualities and star or mark those.

Next we were to start on a clean sheet of paper. Write those 5-8 qualities–she is... he is...–only this time writing, "I am....I have... I do..." It was stunning. The image that emerged for each of us rang shockingly true. What we admire in other people cut through the limitations and fears and self-images and went to the core of who we are. Our teacher recommended that we look at that list everyday, remind ourselves of who we really are everyday, maybe reflect on one quality each day with real intention.

Just as an experiment, take out the commission which we say each week, "to remind ourselves how we are to be." It’s a collective prayer. Try it now, changing each phrase to first person singular–"I go forth into the world in peace. I am of good courage. I hold fast to that which is good. I render to no one evil for evil. I strengthen the fainthearted; I support the weak; I help the afflicted; I honor all people. I love and serve the Lord. I rejoice in the power of the Holy Spirit." It’s just a slight shift, but notice how different it feels.

"Welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls." Welcome with meekness. This is not an exercise in puffing up, in self-centered pride. The work translated as meekness here is used in the bible only to describe Moses and Jesus. It describes the quality of being so open–so selfless (small s)–so utterly immersed in God that there is a fearless-ness about it, not the timidness, the milquetoast limpness, that we often associate with the word "meek." "Welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls." Our denying or never taking the time to discover the implanted word in us, our True Self, does not serve God or ourselves.

"In our depths, sow your seed with its greening-power, so that we may be midwives to your Reign." Thy kingdom come. "In fulfillment of God’s own purpose , God gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of God’s creatures...Therefore... Welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls." I urge you, even for a few moments a day this week, to do a little "appreciative inquiry" into the word implanted in you. "In simple humility," as Peterson puts it, "let our gardener, God, landscape you with the Word, making a salvation garden of your life."

Acting from this implanted word, nourishing it, watering it, we can become doers of the Word, caring for those who have lost their way, those in distress, loving God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, and our neighbors as ourselves. This bread and cup that we are about to share comes into our bodies and nourishes and waters our True Selves created by God and so transform and empower us to bear fruit that will nourish the world. With this promise, with this hope, receive the Bread of Life and the Cup of Blessing. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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Difficult conversations

Wed., Aug. 29, 2012–Our Board of Deacons spent a lovely evening together last night around the dinner table and then on sofa and chairs in the living room.  We try to “retreat”–or “advance,” as I like to think of it–at least once a year, usually in the summer.  It gives us a chance to be together in a non-“meeting” setting and to take a little more time to go deeper into a topic or concern that we never seem to have time for during our regular meetings.

We had agreed that last night we would talk about “difficult conversations”–how to be clear about our boundaries of what we could and couldn’t do, what to do when emotions might be high, how to deal with difficult issues, like death, or family dynamics.  Sitting around the living room, we could speak and listen to one another with a softness and openness that a more formal setting would have made more difficult.

In some ways, we modeled a difficult conversation, for as we shared how we had each been at a loss or felt uncomfortable in conversations, we held each other in the Light and Love of God, listened, and gently asked questions or suggested alternative ways to steer the conversation.  We agreed that the questions we asked were more important than any answers we might give.  For example, while hearing and acknowledging someone’s complaints or pain, at a certain point it might be helpful to open the possibility of looking at something that’s going right, at some gift or strength they have, at some reason for hope.  Acknowledge the pain AND lift up the possibility.  When we focus on or give attention to the positive and the hopeful, it actually gives life and energy to that, instead of simply getting sucked into the negative energy of what is not going well.

If we anticipate a difficult conversation, it’s important to take the time ahead of time to ground ourselves in the truth of who we are–beloved of God, with strengths and worth that will be untouched by whatever the other may say, held in the depth and density and expanse of Love.  It’s also important to remember that the other is beloved of God, worthy of compassion and dignity and respect.  If we find ourselves unexpectedly in the midst of a difficult conversation, remembering to breathe deeply and allowing silence may help us through.  We agreed that “I don’t know what I think about that,” or “I don’t know what to say about that right now” are much better responses than just babbling on without thinking.

When at all possible, our conversations should include some affirmation of the other, some gift or benefit that we find in them, as all too often conversations can degenerate into fault-finding and criticism.  We agreed that we would like to intentionally create an atmosphere of benefit-finding, rather than fault-finding, in our church, in the words used in Positive Psychology.

While at times difficult, our conversation drew us closer together – “in the Spirit’s tether,” as the hymn says.  It was another experience of the Word made flesh among us.

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"Is it worth it?" --Ephesians 6:10-20, John 6: 56-69-- Aug. 26, 2012

 

Michael Warren, a consultant in youth ministry, describes beautifully the assumption that many young people make about what it takes to be a Christian, but I invite you to listen carefully and see if you don’t think he describes what many–if not most–people who are no longer "young" also believe–

Many of the young people I meet

[he writes] believe religion, particularly Christianity, is an area of life requiring no special skills. Religion, they think, refers to an optional interior attitude. It consists of having nice, loving thoughts about God. The idea that a religion requires a discrete set of practices that forges a distinct way of being in the world–that religious practices, like an athlete’s training, are more geared to developing abilities than a set of thoughts–is something many have never considered. If there is a practice to religion, they think, it consists of a single activity–an activity they reject: attending religious services. In their equation, if you love God, God knows of your love and you don’t have to be part of a religious assembly to show that love. If you do attend church but don’t love God, you’re a hypocrite. So the best way to avoid hypocrisy is to avoid going to church. (Warren, "Christian Skill Set," The Christian Century, Sept. 7, 2004, p. 25)

See what I mean? Lots of people, especially in the West, think the same way–that religion, in particular Christianity, is primarily an interior attitude. It’s about thoughts and "beliefs," rather than actions or skills. Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters may add taking communion or going to confession or saying the rosary to the set of practices, but even then, my guess is those practices are wrapped up in attending religious services and less to do with developing skills which forge a distinct way of being in the world. In fact, we’re a little leery of people who appear "too religious"–who do things–or won’t do things–in their daily life that may set them apart from others. We’d like everyone to "fit in" and not make anyone too uncomfortable.

"If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable," wrote C.S. Lewis, "I certainly don’t recommend Christianity." Jesus certainly didn’t seem to go out of his way to make people feel comfortable. This long discourse in the 6^th chapter of John–which may have been at least as much John’s understanding of what Jesus said than what Jesus said–is a case in point. "For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." Really, Jesus? No wonder the early Christians were accused of cannibalism!

"What was Jesus thinking?" as one pastor asks. He has just fed over 5000 people with a few barley loaves and a couple of fish, and they are so excited they’d follow him anywhere. Instead of meeting them right where they are, pointing out the lilies in the field maybe, like Jesus does in Luke’s gospel, or continuing to nourish them with food that will sustain them and let them see that this teacher is worth following, maybe with a few beatitudes like Jesus does in Matthew’s gospel, here in John he launches into this long discourse about being the Bread from heaven and about their having to eat his flesh and drink his blood.

"This teaching is difficult," they say in masterful understatement. "Who can accept it?" "Does this teaching offend you?" Jesus asks his disciples. "Uh, yeah. It’s a little creepy." "Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him." "Honestly," my pastor friend writes, "it’s a wonder Jesus had any followers left. Maybe the real miracle in the sixth chapter of John wasn’t that 5000 people were fed at the beginning but that a dozen were still left at the end." (Wallace W. Bubar, The Christian Century, 8/22/12, p. 20)

"This teaching is difficult." "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." These words–this image–force an in-your-face confrontation with the incarnation. This is not about thinking nice thoughts about God. This is not a strictly internal thought process. This is about the very life blood that flows through our veins that results in a new way–a distinct way-- of being in the world. If you think that’s comfortable and safe, remember the image that Paul–or probably someone writing in the same spirit–used in his letter to the Ephesians–

Finally,

[he wrote] be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

Now this may be a little more militaristic and a little more supernatural than we’re comfortable with. But the image of armor would certainly have had currency in Ephesus, with Roman soldiers in armor all around. And while we may not like to think of them in terms of "cosmic powers of the present darkness, or spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places," we do know that there are forces at work beyond any individual or even collective human power–forces of greed or fear, forces of disease or prejudice, economic forces, geo-political forces. Paul refers to them as the "powers and principalities," and it’s as good a description as any.

When we are up against cancer, or heart disease, or addiction, or any other disease or condition not readily eliminated by a pill or tonic, it can feel like we are engaged in a battle. When no matter how hard we try, no matter how many resumes we hand out or job fairs we attend, and we still cannot get a job, we can feel as though we are up against the powers and principalities. When we see pictures of hungry children, or craters and smoldering vehicles left by bombs or other explosive devises, when we watch glaciers melting and polar bears stranded on shrinking ice floes, when wild fires rage and devour homes and forests and everything else in their paths, or rain and wind batter coastlines and even river lines, we can believe in powers and principalities over which we have no control. Heck, there are quieter days when it can feel like we’re up against forces that simply are too strong for us–in frustration with our children or elderly parents, when our bodies just won’t behave or work the way we wish they would, when the bills just keep coming and the balance in the checkbook keeps going down, when we find it hard to find energy or meaning in life. "Beloved, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of God’s power...Put on the whole armor of God..."

The armor described, except for the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of the Lord, is all defensive–the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness (or right relationship with God), shoes to help us preach the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation. None of those can take on any real meaning if they’re just abstract, interior thoughts. When you’re up against powers and principalities, thoughts will too easily disappear. It has to be in your blood, so to speak, in your muscles. The rhythms of worship and prayer, living eucharistically–that is, giving of yourself and recognizing that your life depends on others, the practice of fasting–either from food or other forms of consuming–all hone our skills and abilities to act differently in the world. Doing the work to sort through all the layers of limitations, fears, and constructed self-images that we’ve layered on and around our true, inner core takes time and effort. "The whole armor of God is a matter of worship, ethics, character, prayer and lifestyle," writes Bruce Epperly, which then become "resources to creatively respond to–and confront–the present darkness...Our primary protection in a world of threat is prayerful God-awareness and constant alert, being spiritually centered." (The Adventurous Lectionary, 8/21/12)

"Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them," Jesus said. There is real intimacy in this kind of relationship that is able to remain with us, even in and through death, both our final death and the little deaths that we experience everyday, in the loss of a relationship, even in the letting go of a child who moves on to the next stage in life–whether that’s a new school or college or marriage or the service–, or the little deaths we might experience in illness or incapacity, in giving up a home, in the loss of the job. "Those who take in my life [which is what blood represented] abide in me and I in them."

And Jesus knew that the giving of his blood and flesh would not only come through the meal that we celebrate in communion but also, especially, in his death. The way to "eternal life," which is both now and in the days to come, is through death, through the giving of oneself, in the giving up of the ego, or one’s selfish desires, including the desire to be in control. "This is a difficult teaching," they said. You bet.

When some of his disciples left and no longer went around with him, Jesus did not try to make them stay. He knew the way was difficult, and that no one could be forced to follow. "Among you there are some who do not believe." I know that this is not what you expected the way of truth or salvation to be. This is not what you wanted in a messiah. It is when those in whom we place such hope–whether as messiah or political candidate–when they do not live up to what we thought they were going to do, that we feel betrayed. Judas couldn’t believe Jesus was who he said he was–the Son of Humanity–because Jesus was determined to go through death, not around it, and so Judas felt betrayed. Surely the messiah doesn’t have to die. Others simply left. It’s not clear whether Jesus felt betrayed here. One commentator writes, "Jesus is not the victim of misguided hopes, who at the end dies disillusioned because good does not triumph over evil. All along, with eyes wide open to the presence of unbelief and destruction, he follows the plans given him by [God]." (Texts for Preaching, Year B, p. 483)

Jesus asked the twelve remaining, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life." You have the words of eternal life–eternal life, right here and now. "Could these words [of eternal life] be the vibrations of divine creativity," asks Bruce Epperly, vibrations from "the big bang and the evolution of the universe? Could these words be life-changing affirmations whose repetition creates the songlines of our lives, opening us to hope and energy despite life’s challenges?" (Op cit.) Could these words be the whole parable that Jesus’ life told and continues to tell–of Divine Love living in human flesh, healing, teaching, connecting us, suffering, dying, and rising into new life?

To whom can we go other than this One, this Way, which, deep down, if we truly are honest with ourselves, ring true? Have we found such truth, such strength, such hope, such peace in any other way? In the way of self-centeredness, the way of money or power or stuff or success? To whom can we go in the midst of cancer or loss or heartbreak or discouragement? "Lord, you have the words of eternal life. To whom can we go?"

There are practices, there are skills we can acquire to help us live this way, centered and grounded in the love of God–practices of gratitude and forgiveness, practices of prayer and meditation, practices of taking care of our own and others’ bodies, practices of caring for the earth and her creatures, practices of worship and study and eucharist and healing. But all these practices–all these efforts–really just make us more susceptible to grace. "Be strong in the Lord" might more accurately be translated, "be made strong"–it is God who gives the strength. It is the Source of Life who courses through our veins and limbs that keeps us in divine intimacy. It is ultimately the mystery of Love that transforms bread and wine, that transforms our lives, that confounds our sensibilities and our logic, that even offends us at times. But it is Love that walks beside us and within us and before us, so that even in the present darkness, we may find the way. May these words be strength, and hope, and courage for us for the living of these days. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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Transitions

Wed., Aug. 22, 2012 – Every three years the lectionary, or cycle of Scripture readings, comes around to Ephesians 6:10-20 on the last Sunday in August. The heading of this section in many Bibles is, "The Whole Armor of God," for Paul, or whoever wrote the Letter to the Ephesians, talks about "putting on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."

...Stand, therefore, [he writes] and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

 

It sounds so heavy here at the end of summer! Not to mention hot and stifling if you have the image of medieval armor in mind. I’m looking for something a little lighter, a little more gentle, as I reluctantly let go of summer and turn September’s calendar page over. Having just spent all last week away for my Certificate in Positive Psychology course, I’m still catching up on stacks of mail and e-mails.

But "Paul" is right to give us this pep talk. After all, what a luxury it is to have vacation at all, when I think of all those who live everyday hand to mouth, juggling several jobs, never seeming to be able to make ends meet. How grateful I am for this time of rest and renewal! How grateful I am to have work that is meaningful and (mostly!) enjoyable to get back to!

And then there’s the "armor" Paul is urging us to put on–truth and righteousness (or right relationship with God), readiness to preach the gospel of peace, faith, salvation (being "saved" from aimlessness and separation from God), and the Spirit. What a gift to be able to "put on" these things, to be offered these things to accompany us on the journey. And then there’s that first sentence in this whole section, that’s not to be forgotten–"Finally, [or firstly], be strong in the Lord and in the strength of God’s power." It’s not our effort or power–it’s God’s working through us.

So, don’t just "put on" but "open up to...," "empty out to..." the power and strength of God. "I can do all things through the One who loves us." Off we go!

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