Jesus showing up in inconvenient guises

So the Farrelly Brothers have made a movie remaking The Three Stooges for our generation. Depending on your point of view, this is either the end or the highpoint of Western civilization. Now I haven’t seen it, but from what I have heard, the directors wanted to reproduce the exact feel of the 1930’s vintage shorts than became a staple of Saturday morning television for boys of a certain age like me. The film also provides a back story about how three bumbling knuckleheads came to be so bumbling.

In a weird way, the advent of this film reminds of one of my own Easter stories.

Once upon a time, when I was a brand-new transitional deacon, I was assigned to a parish in the middle of a small city not unlike Trinity, Easton.

St. Paul's in Willimantic, Connecticut had a soup kitchen, too, only theirs met six days a week. I lived a few blocks away and would walk to church. On Sunday mornings, I liked to go early and putter around in silence making things ready for worship. There was a wrinkle in my plan, though, and his name was Billy.

Billy was a man in his late 40’s, who spent most of his life in an institution run by the state for the mentally handicapped. The state was gradually moving these folks into the community. Highly capable folks from the Training School, were moved into apartments. Those in need of more supervision went into group homes. Billy was one of the ones moved into an apartment near the church. Billy loved church. He also loved to talk…which he did at 100 mph in a rather high pitched voice. I tried to teach him things: like how to help set  up the church, how to light the candles without setting him or the church on fire; how to set out the bulletins.

Nothing worked. Billy followed me around talking incessantly. He broke things. He spilled and dropped things. He interrupted and startled people. He also scared people who did not know what to make of him. And the truth is Billy really got on my nerves.

My romantic image of a time of contemplative silence went out the window when I came down the street and saw him there at the door, waiting. So not only was I annoyed and impatient, I was angry. And I am sure it showed, so I was embarrassed, too.

My supervising priest at that time was the most saintly man I ever knew. His name was Canon Francis Belden. Or, as Billy called him, “Kenny.”

Canon Belden would always treat Billy with great patience and never seemed to get upset by his antics.

One day, after a particularly exasperating encounter, I came to supervision feeling at a complete loss. I had run out of tricks, distractions and gimmicks to deal with Billy. Tired, confused, and—as I said—embarrassed, I asked Canon Belden how he did it. How was he able to stay so even-keeled with Billy even after Billy has crashed into him or dropped something or interrupted a conversation.

"Well," ‘Kenny’ said, "he’s Jesus."

Before I could fall into a deep hole of guilt and pointless shame, Belden added this truth that I have never forgotten. The secret to a successful Christian life, he said, is seeing the face of Jesus in others and also knowing that you are Jesus’ face to someone else.

Billy was Jesus. Jesus came disguised as an annoying, pesky, klutzy guy who was trying to apply the life rules learned in an institution to  a world where he was now by himself for the first time and with very few rules. Billy was a lot of things and he certainly tried my patience, but he was no stooge. He was a person. He was a person with dignity given to him by God. He was alone and struggling. And he was Jesus in precisely the way and at precisely the moment I needed to see Jesus.

And it changed me.

God is not without a sense of humor. Because, amazing as it may seem, I was Jesus to Billy. I spent time teaching him to light candles and giving him jobs in church. And if he screwed up, we tried again. And again. And again. Yeah, I lost patience when he dropped the bulletins all over the floor or would run up to give me something in the middle of a sermon. How did I know that my bumbling, haphazard attempts at ministry really meant something? It was the bone-crushing hugs he gave me at the Peace and the really syrupy Father's Day cards every June.... Well, what else do you give a priest on Father's Day?...that told me that maybe, just maybe 'Kenny' was right. We were Jesus to each other and didn't even know it.

Since then Jesus has shown up in my life—and I dare say in yours—again and again and again.

This lesson came to mind a few years later when I was teaching a class of high school seniors about Christianity and the Christian Life, particularly how they can prepare themselves to be faithful people in the new world they were about to enter in college, the military or the workplace.

It was during the Fifty Days of Easter and we were looking at all the stories of the Risen Jesus appearing to his disciples, one student asked, “How is it that Jesus only appeared to believers? How come Jesus did not show himself after his resurrection to all the unbelievers who killed him?”

My first response was “How do you know he didn’t?”

During these Fifty Days, we hear about various encounters between the Risen Jesus and various people. Some of them, like the disciples locked in the upper room, were people who knew Jesus in life but were so terrified after his execution that they don’t know what to do except hide.

Some, like Mary Magdalene, are so grief stricken that they don’t even recognize Jesus standing right in front of them, until he calls her name.

Others have heard the story—the rumors—of Jesus’ resurrection but have no idea what to make of it until someone opens the scriptures for them and explains what it all means—like Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus.

And like Cleopas and his friend, some do not see the risen Jesus until they meet him in the Sacrament of Christ’s body and blood.

Paul met the Risen Jesus while he was actively persecuting Christians. It turns out that what he was trying to stamp out was in fact chasing him down.

Most other people meet the Risen Christ in the story, the actions and the lives of people who follow Jesus and have been changed by him. As Jesus says to Thomas, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.” That’s us, in a way.

We have believed even though we haven’t seen the risen Jesus in the upper room, eating a piece of fish, as we heard in the Gospel today.

Just because we didn’t get to be in the Upper Room does not mean we are without a clue. The Risen Jesus is right there in front of us all the time. If only we have the eyes to see.

Jesus might come disguised as that guy looking for a handout, or as the student who can’t do anything right. Jesus might show up as your spouse or your co-worker or the classmate that everyone ignores. We host a whole room full of Risen Jesus’ every Saturday: they both serve and eat the food in the Ark Soup Kitchen. Know it or not, they are Jesus to each other.

It would be nice if Jesus were always nice. It would be great if Jesus only showed up on our time-table and in our image. We'd really like it if Jesus only appeared to people just like us. But Jesus, God-with-us, was born in a stable, and grew up to touch and heal unclean people. It was Jesus, God-with-us, who cared for the sick, the helpless and the needy, who forgave sinners and challenged the righteous. The One who blessed friend and foe alike as he died on the cross, is now alive and shows up where we least expect him and where we most need to see him.

Sometimes when I realize that I’ve just encountered the risen Jesus, it feels like a slap in the face. But it is not a pratfall, and it is certainly not pointless violence or tomfoolery. It’s a startling wake up call to the blessing of meeting the Risen Jesus face to face. It is the stunning, liberating (and often inconvenient) demonstration of how it is that God restores the full dignity of human nature to even the most unlikely of God’s children.

Easter 3B - April 22, 2012

The Episcopal Café is back!

The Episcopal Café is back! It appears that the server problems have been sorted out.

Whew! and Hooray!

Where is the Episcopal Café?

Those of you who read the Lead or Daily Episcopalian on the Episcopal Café site have probably noticed that we haven’t updated the site since Monday evening. It’s a server error. The Café was migrated to another server at the site where we get our donated space. But something seems to have gone wrong in the latter stages of the migration and the editors are not able to access the back-end of the website at the moment.

Things began to get a little dodgy on Saturday. I did my turn on Monday for The Lead, and it was on and off, but I was able to post stuff. Sometime Monday night things went really  ka-phlooey.

We’ve put in a plea for help. Hopefully we’ll be back up and running in short order.

In the meantime, members of the Lead’s newsteam are posting notes and articles (that would normally be posted to the Lead) over on our Facebook page.  I may post some news up here as well from time to time. 

Sorry for the disruption. But I suppose it’s inevitable. The Café has little or no budget, and we rely on donated server space (and donated labor) to keep the place running.  All of us Newshounds are posting this news on our own blogs, and we’ll post here again (and everywhere we can) as soon as we’re back online.

Wrong savior syndrome

Do you want to know what my problem is? My problem is that I keep trying to follow the wrong savior. I keep getting my messiahs mixed up. My bad!

You see, I keep wishing that Jesus will come and take away all my troubles as if he were one of those great designer drugs they advertise on TV. You know the ones I mean, right?  The ones where everyone is happily riding bikes or rowing boats or hiking mountain trails while the announcer reads off all the possible side effects. These ads are supposed to tell you that prescription drugs are serious things and that only your doctor knows best. But my eyes and my emotions tell me I want to ride my bike on the mountain trail.

I like my Savior the same way. I hear all the things about taking up my cross and following. But what I really want is for God to fix everything. There is a big part of me that wants a savior who will solve all my problems so life would not be so hard.

Oops.  Wrong savior!

If you have ever suffered from wrong-savior syndrome, you are not alone. We hear in today’s Gospel about Peter having the exact same problem. Even though he has correctly confessed Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the Living God, he cannot bear to hear the truth that this same Jesus, this same Messiah, would have to be arrested, handed over to his persecutors, tortured,  killed and then on the third day rise from the dead.
It is too much for Peter to bear. He can’t take it in. His only response: "God forbid!"

You see he wanted Jesus to be all-victorious. The most powerful guy on the block, if not the world. He wanted Jesus to bring down the wrath of God.  This is a classic case of wrong savior syndrome if ever there was one.

Just look at where Jesus has taken his disciples. He has taken then to a Roman garrison city called Caesarea Philippi. A fortress town that the Romans built that would be a sign of Roman power, a garrison from which their troops could march, and a place where Roman gods could be worshipped out of sight of the local religionists. Jesus takes his followers to a symbol of Roman power to confess him as messiah, and then he starts talking about what following him is like. What is following Jesus like? It is like carrying your own cross. Really? You know when people carried crosses, right? On the way to their own execution!

Here is Jesus talking about who he is—the Messiah—in the middle of an outpost of the Roman Empire and he immediately starts talking about the Romans #1 way of keeping people in line: crucifixion!

For those of us prone to wrong-savior syndrome,  Jesus connects the dots so plainly and directly that it is like a slap in the face:

You see, here is the way to keep from getting our saviors mixed up. Instead of Jesus taking away all my problems, he wants us to have the strength, the grace and the courage to take on our problems—to carry our cross. I want a way out of my troubles. Jesus offers us a way through all of life—the hard stuff and the good stuff.

Following Jesus makes a difference because he makes the hard life of faithfulness possible and less lonely.  Jesus blazes the trail for us to follow.  He creates a truly human life possible, lived under the mercy of God, blood, tears, death, and all.

We want life to be easy. The trouble is that it is really only the hard things in this life that end up telling us who we are. The hard things in life tell us what we are made of. They tell us what really matters.  It is only the struggles we work through, successfully or not, that teach us the limits and the grandeur of being human.  It is only the acceptance of suffering as a necessary part of the human condition that draws together and unites us as one in our fragile, bodily, humble reality.  It is only in confronting our death and placing our lives wholly in the fatherly arms, the motherly embrace of God, that we can finally and truly live.

When Jesus tells us that Christians will be persecuted and that we will be called on to show off or talk about our faith in front of hostile audiences, he is telling us to hang in and to trust God. He is saying that we will get the strength to confess Jesus when the chips are down because we have already immersed ourselves in a life of prayer, steeped in scripture, nourished by the sacrament and surrounded by Christian community. He reminds us that we will confidently and boldly confess Jesus when the chips are down because we did not ignore him when things were easy.

But when we decide to let Jesus’ cross take away our own then we give into wrong savior syndrome. The real savior calls us into the hard work of a life of purpose, sacrifice, and loving others. Jesus, the real savior, gives us back our lives.  He saves us from meaningless days and years of having nothing to do. He saves us from going through life as if we are just ticking off check boxes of things we have to do.  He opens our eyes so that when we see injustice and cruelty in the world we can say, “Yeah, I guess if I don’t do something, no one else will.”  He touches our hearts and minds so that can choose to live in honest dialogue with all kinds of people. He gives us the strength to be vulnerable enough to pray with people who differ and even disagree with us.

You see, Jesus’ cross help us carry our cross. When we choose to be open and honest about our faith in a way that tells the truth without being obnoxious, then we discover what is means to not only carry our cross but also how to follow Jesus.

I still get my saviors mixed up. It happens whenever I am tired or overworked or feeling pressed upon by a world changing faster than I can handle. Then I go for the fake savior…the one who will knock heads and take names, the one who agrees with all my opinions, the one who judges everyone else but not me.
And when I don’t want to look at the deep truth of human sin, or when I am feeling really risk averse, then I go for the squishy savior. I will be attracted to his love but not accept the challenge of the cross…the challenge to change.

But when we go back to our baptisms, when we go back to the broken bread and poured out wine of the Sacrament, when we go back to our Christian companions, when we go back and confess Jesus as messiah and savior and, without shame or fear, and orient our lives towards him, then we discover that God has given us in Christ everything we need to follow him. And here’s the best part, even though we are prone to wrong savior syndrome, Jesus, the real savior has never, ever forgotten us.

Second Sunday in Lent B, Mark 8:31-38- March 4, 2012

Knowing

Last week the famous biologist and pop-atheist Richard Dawkins met the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Most. Rev. Dr. Rowan Williams, at the Sheldonian Theatre at Oxford University to debate belief in God. This is not the opening line of a joke. It really happened.  

The Guardian reported on the debate and said this:

Dawkins played the passionate and inspiring preacher perfectly. …He quoted a poem by the biologist Julian Huxley and launched into his credal statement: "The laws of physics have conspired to make the collisions of atoms produce plants, kangaroos, insects, and us."
"Darwin", he said, "gives courage to the rest of science that we shall end up understanding literally everything, springing from almost nothing – a thought extremely hard to comprehend and believe."

Against this mystery and power, Williams played the part of the humble seeker after truth, looking always for fresh evidence.

"A soul is something that does not cease with death," said the archbishop. "What it is, I have no idea. A number of images, but no idea." More research is clearly needed here.

Dawkins was baffled by this attitude: "Why you don't see the extraordinary beauty of the idea that we can explain the world, the universe, life, how it started from nothing? That is such a staggeringly elegant and beautiful thing. Why do you want to clutter up your world view with something so messy as a god?" 

"I am not thinking of God as something extra that must be shoehorned in," Williams replied, stepping back from this slash with Occam's razor.

"When I want to solve problems of 21st century science I use the methods of 21st century science. When I want to understand my place in the universe, I reserve the right to go back to Genesis."

“Why do you want to clutter up your world view with something so messy as a god?”

What many people, atheist or Christian, forget is that the kind of knowledge that science is and the kind of knowledge that faith are different forms of knowledge. They don’t contradict, they overlap. Look again at Dawkins ‘ opening argument: in talking about science, he speaks as a man of faith. He uses one kind of knowledge to describe beauty and wonder of another kind of knowledge.

Episcopalians believe in dinosaurs and the God of all creation. We accept modern science and the person of Jesus Christ.

The trouble with Christians who try to make the evidence of nature “prove” the story of creation in the Book of Genesis is not their faith. It’s just that they are confusing one kind of knowledge for another. We Episcopalians say that the authority and nature of the Bible suffers when we make it into a science text-book. Doing that also harms faith because it assumes that faith and science can’t live in the same room. If this were true, then there could be no Christian doctors, nurses or veterinarians; there could be no Christian pilots, sailors or astronauts; there could be no Christian biologists, physicists, mathematicians, musicians or artists. The fact that there are Christians in all these fields tell us that different kinds of knowledge can operate in concert.

We all have different ways of knowing the world. There is an old saying, “If you think like a hammer, then everything is nails!” The kind of knowledge it takes to be a scientist or an engineer, or the kind of knowledge it takes to be a writer, artist or musician, is not the same kind of knowledge as the knowledge of faith. There is a kind of knowledge that is required to be a teacher, a therapist or a social worker. These different kinds of knowledge overlap and certainly do not cancel one another out. This is the reason that a sound education requires exposure to all kinds of knowledge. It makes us a more complete people.

Nothing closes down the life of faith faster than teaching that faith is incompatible with the other ways of knowing. There are a Christians who ban instrumental music, eschew dancing or who think that science hurts faith. But we are a part of a tradition that values diversity, allows hard questions to be asked and discussed, and touches all of our senses when we worship.

We also embrace all the ways that we discover truth. So our faith looks in wonder at a universe where both Newtonian laws of motion and quantum mechanics operate at once. The life of faith revels in a world where all kinds of art and music flourish at once.

The life of faith gives meaning and, therefore, a different kind of structure to the other kinds of knowledge.  This is why Dr. Williams was right when he said “When I want to solve problems of 21st century science I use the methods of 21st century science. When I want to understand my place in the universe, I reserve the right to go back to Genesis."

Sometimes we think that the faith-knowledge should act like other kinds of knowledge. This usually trips us up. The week before he met the Archbishop, Dawkins debated another Anglican cleric, The Rev. Giles Frasier. Dawkins was complaining that in a recent survey most people in the UK who called themselves Christian could not name the first book of the New Testament and could not accurately name the Ten Commandments. He said—sounding a little like a fundamentalist preacher himself—that most people who say they are Christian are just “ticking off a box” but do not have real faith. Frasier asked him to name the full and complete title of Darwin’s text “On The Origin of the Species.” Dawkins could not do it.* If Christians don’t get all the facts right and don’t practice their faith 100% that does not make them less Christian. Just as Dawkins’ inability to recite Darwin does not make him less of a biologist.

What Dawkins, and many other people—atheists and believers alike—forget is that faith is a kind of knowledge we all seek and use. It does not matter if one is an atheist, deist, a Muslim. It makes no difference if one is a Jew, Buddhist, Hindu or Christian. We all have it. We all seek to know the world and make sense of it. I did not say we all agree! And I did not say that it was all equally valid! I did say that one way we all know the world is to some degree through the knowledge of faith.

Faith helps us make choices about how to respond to each other. Whether we choose to see life as abundant or empty, miraculous or scary, flows from the kind of knowledge we call faith.  This is why the Archbishop could sit in contented, agreeable silence while the scientist ticked off the complexity of the universe. Dawkins sees an awesome, mysterious, beautiful world that has always been there. Williams saw the beauty, awe and complexity and behind all that God.

As we enter this Lenten season, and go forward towards Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection, and as we as a community of faith enter into the mysteries of Lent and Easter, I am struck by how much knowledge we share.

The fact that we all—not just in our parish, but everybody—use and are drawn towards the kind of knowledge we call faith is for me a sign that God is in fact real. The fact that we all seek after truth, meaning and beauty is a sign of God’s very presence with us.

Christians believe that in Christ, we meet and know a God who knows us.

The opening prayer in our Holy Eucharist talks about God, to whom “all hearts are open, all desires known, from whom no secret are hid.” Think about all the ways God knows us. They mirror and reflect all the ways we know God. God knows how we are made, God knows our abilities and potential, and God has faith in us to become the kind of people God knows us to be.

__________

* = The full title is: “On the Origin of the Species by Natural Means of Selection or the Preservation of Favored Races in the Struggle for Life.”

This is the essay for the March-April edition of the parish newsletter of Trinity Episcopal Church, Easton, PA.

Three ways to learn how to "be kind" this Lent

Here is Father Jim Martin, SJ, Cultural Editor of America Magazine with a word on what to take on this Lent.

Two words: "Be Kind."

This is much better than giving up chocolates. But it pretty well sums up the heart of the Gospel.

He says there are three ways to Be Kind:

• Don't be a jerk.
• Honor the absent.
• Give people the benefit of the doubt.

The First Saturday  in Lent

September 25, 2012

Bullying is no longer a "Restricted" topic

Many of us in parish ministry encounters the terrible effects of bullying. Whether it is a kid trying to fit in youth group or church camp, or whose parents are beside themselves trying to get the schools to pay attention, or a kid who acts out because he can't take the pressure anymore and has no place else to go. No doubt some of us have presided at funerals where bullying got out of hand and a kid died or a kid was so harassed he committed suicide. 

In the face of a "boys will be boys" culture or a society that just shrugs saying that sometimes girls can just be mean, it easy to feel helpless. 

What if you created a documentary to describe bullying and you could not show it to kids because the real-live kids in the film use language that adults think kids should never hear.  

This is the problem facing The Weinstein Company over their film "Bully." Linda Holmes at NPR has the story:

The Weinstein Company has lost an appeal to the MPAA, which has smacked an R rating on the painful documentary Bully (which I saw at Silverdocs last year when it was called The Bully Project), from filmmaker Lee Hirsch.

The rating is for language — meaning that the reason the ratings organization is taking the position that the movie isn't appropriate for kids to see without their parents is not that it depicts violence and trauma and the aftermath of the suicides of children, but because an environment full of teenagers, when realistically portrayed, includes swearing.

The intention of the studio who bought the documentary is to show it both in theaters and at high schools and middle schools across the country.  Because he MPAA gave the film an R rating, the film will be shown to the audience at which it is aimed, containing actual dialog spoken by young people who would not be allowed in to see the film.  Yes, a documentary that is about what life is actually like for high school and middle school students was deemed inappropriate for high school and middle school students.  

The MPAA said in a statement:

Bullying is a serious issue and is a subject that parents should discuss with their children. The MPAA agrees with the Weinstein Company that Bully can serve as a vehicle for such important discussions.

The MPAA also has the responsibility, however, to acknowledge and represent the strong feedback from parents throughout the country who want to be informed about content in movies, including language.

The rating and rating descriptor of 'some language,' indicate to parents that this movie contains certain language. With that, some parents may choose to take their kids to this movie and others may not, but it is their choice and not ours to make for them. The R rating is not a judgment on the value of any movie. The rating simply conveys to parents that a film has elements strong enough to require careful consideration before allowing their children to view it. Once advised, many parents may take their kids to see an R-rated film. School districts, similarly, handle the determination of showing movies on a case-by-case basis and have their own guidelines for parental approval.

Of course, an "R" rating does not simply convey information, it determines audience and what theaters will carry the film. Holmes says"

The first thing to understand about this statement is that it's simply not the case that a rating "simply conveys to parents" information. At theaters that choose to participate in the ratings system and in enforcing it, the rating stops kids at the door if they come without an adult. It's patently disingenuous, if not outright dishonest, to refuse even to come to terms with the fact that ratings functionally limit access for kids as old as 15 and 16, many of whom are old enough that they have jobs and substantial responsibilities they take care of every day, arguing that they only convey information to parents. It's just not true.

In fact, the rating has the ability to affect access for kids whose parents never have any idea the movie even exists, so obviously, it doesn't have only the effect of conveying information to parents. It can, in fact, effectively supplant the parents by deciding that if the parents for whatever reason don't know that their kids have decided to head out to a theater to see a movie about bullying, the kids aren't admitted. Nobody, in that scenario, has gotten any information about anything. Nobody. All you have is a kid who's seeking out a documentary about bullying — a documentary that tries to take them seriously, that tries in part to show them that it understands how hard it is to be them, who can't get to it.

The Weinstein Company is considering leaving the MPAA so that they can distribute the film unedited as an unrated film.  Unfortunately that means most theaters likely won't play the film.  News of the rejection is being strongly criticized from several corners.

As one young adult said to me in his e-mail alerting me to situation: 

Anyway, you should watch the trailer.  No idea if the actual movie is any good or actually gets its message across well, but the trailer is pretty moving by itself.  Wish this stuff was recognized the way it is now back when I was in junior high/middle school/high school.  Glad it's getting attention now.

One Moment Meditation

A friend gave me a little card that says "Relieve Stress: take a prayer break!" It came in a little frame and now it sits right in front of my computer monitor.

Here is a good, practical lesson on how to take a prayer break called "One Moment Meditation."

 I like to use the Jesus Prayer but however you do it, it is possible in the midst of your Crazy Busy day to take a moment for God and yourself.

The First Friday in Lent

September 24, 2012

What's the buzz?

Yesterday's noon Ash Wednesday service had a strange buzzing noise.

It was like being in a room with mosquitoes.

Turns out that there is some kind of radio interference with our sound system.

It also turns out that the sound has been there for quite a long time but we never noticed it before because whenever we are in church, we use the organ. Part of the organ leaks air...a kind quiet hiss emanates from beneath the Great and also from under the Positiv. We have been trying to fix the leaks. We can't seem to get ahead of them, they seem to be built-in. Mind you it is not as if you've stuck your head inside a jet engine. It's just a hiss. Some days there are good days and some days not so good. But yesterday we had no organ. We wanted the service to be in silence. No music. No hiss.

But we also needed the sound system for our microphones. And so we get the mosquitoes.

So all through the service I kept thinking "Great. Another service call."

And close behind that "Solemn silent service? Fail!"

You know, I hate to whine, Lord, but I really don't need the technological assistance.

I can distract myself just fine.

When I try to take time for silence, when I sit, take deep breaths and try to clear my head, I want to enter God's presence. In the silence, I want to get behind the noise and listen for that still small voice. But there are always mosquitoes.  They are there.

What phone call have I not returned?
What e-mail do I need to answer?
What step in that project have I neglected?
What person did I not attend to?
What bill have I not paid?

There next to the silence is the buzz. It does not go away.

But neither does God.  No matter what the buzz is, there is God speaking to us. Holding us up. Being our companion. Whatever noise there is, God's silence is behind it always speaking to us.

Which means that sometimes God uses the noise to trick us into silence. Sneaky.

Who knew that those pesky leaks were also a kind of white noise machine that blocked out the electronic mosquitoes? Who knew that just turning on the organ would make its own kind of silence?

So that's the buzz? That's God getting past our own little noisemakers to speak right to our hearts.

The First Thursday of Lent

February 23, 2012

Asserting My Rights

What is it about Lent and me?
I just can’t give up.

When I give up coffee, I eat more chocolate.
When I give up fast food, I watch more TV.

When I put my loose change in the mite box,
I expect the box to be grateful.

Every Lent, I am an errant driver in a field
Striking the tree that I was determined to miss.

Forty days seem like forty years
When I know I will fail in forty seconds.

So this Lent, I am going to give up giving up.
Instead, I will assert my rights.

I will focus wholeheartedly on my rights.
I will hold closely to myself the things that I know are mine.

I will have a good time this Lent
because I will take on what I know to be true.

But, knowing my track-record in past Lents,
I will start with the right to keep my expectations low.

I will insist on the right to be wrong.
For forty days I think I can live with not always being so right.

I will assert my right to flawed.
Do you think for six weeks, I can be free of seeming so terrific?

I will assent to my right to be uncertain
For a month, perhaps I will discover faith.

I will claim my right to be ignorant
After a season of knowing less, maybe I will know mystery.

I will act on my right to be weak
And, for a moment, I won’t pretend I own what strength I have.

I will revel in my right to be foolish
And catch a glimpse of how I am seen.

I will rest in my right to be a creature
And enjoy for a second my part in the creation.

I will exercise my right to surrender
and live, for now, in my right not to be God.

Ash Wednesday, 2012

 Copyright The Rev. Canon Andrew T. Gerns, 2005