Don't divorce my friends

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

A sermon

I have been playing with utterli - a social networking tool that can send audio and video to your friends. I recorded a sermon of one I preached a few years ago. The church had sent me the audio so I tried it on utterli. I also recorded me reading a book to the grandchildren - but won't drive you nuts with that. One of these days I will get the showing the book and reading to the camera thing down!

John Updike 1932-2009

Seven Stanzas at Easter

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that–pierced–died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping, transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mâché,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck’s quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

H/T to Bishop Alan's blog and Episcopal Cafe

3 Epiphany

Readings are here.

Thoughts toward a sermon:

The story of Jonah is about someone who is so sure he knows what is right he even disobeys God. Sort of an odd story to have in the Bible. Jonah is supposed to go tell the Nineveh-ites that they are going to be destroyed because they have been so bad and worship idols. Jonah chooses to go somewhere else and not until he is tossed into the sea and swallowed by the fish does he end up where is supposed to be. Oh well he seems to say to himself I will tell them that they will be destroyed. They are so stupid they won't listen - they can't even tell their right hands from their left. (a very dumb think in the desert where the right hand is for eating and the left for dirtier jobs)

Then even worse they repent and God forgives them. Jonah says I knew it, I knew it, you are way to soft on these sinners. And goes off to pout. Jonah is so caught up in his idea of what is right he stays with his way of being and his own knowledge - that he worships righteousness - even when God shows compassion.

Now Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, is sure the end of the world is coming soon - very soon - so soon that people don't need to bother with possessions -including wives.

In our Gospel today, Peter and Andrew are doing what generations of their families have done - fishing. Unlike Jonah or Paul - they are not so set in continuing to keep the traditions of their families. Jesus calls to them - offering a new career with the skills they already have -- fishing for people.

For all the readings people have a revelation about a new future but the reaction of each differs. I think it is like being in a long running play. We have learned our lines perfectly - and we go out on stage each night to perform our role. One day we go out on stage and discover we are in a totally different play with a totally different plot. Our response might be to resist - like Jonah - this is not the role I have worked for all my life. Or it might be to try to force the play into something familiar - like Paul. Or taking our cue from Andrew and Peter - say - all right - let's do it.

This is the story of the call from God in our lives. How will we repond?

Darest thou now O soul,
Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?

No map there, nor guide,
Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.

I know it not O soul,
Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
All waits undream’d of in that region, that inaccessible land.

Till when the ties loosen,
All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.

Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them,
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O soul.
– Walt Whitman

H/T to Edge of Enclosure.

Image from He Qi.

Oh what a day...

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Congressional Quarterly has a transcript of the inaugural poem written and read by Elizabeth Alexander.

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others’ eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.

Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

A woman and her son wait for the bus.

A farmer consider the changing sky; A teacher says, “Take out your pencils. Begin.”

We encounter each other in words, Words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; Words to consider, reconsider.

We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, “I need to see what’s on the other side; I know there’s something better down the road.”

We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.

Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”

Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Bless us with anger and tears...

Thanks to Christianity Today for posting to youtube.

H/T to Episcopal Cafe.

Kaddish in time of war and violence

From The Shalom Center, A prophetic voice in Jewish, multireligious, and American life.

Yitgadal V’yit’kadash Shmei Rabah

May Your Great Name, through our expanding awareness and our fuller action, lift You to become still higher and more holy.

For Your Great Name weaves together all the names of all the beings in the universe, among them our own names,
and it is we who give You the strength to lift us into holiness — (Cong: Amein)

B’alma di vra chi’rooteh v’yamlich malchuteh b’chayeichun, u’v'yomeichun,
u’v'chayei d’chol beit yisrael, b’agalah u’vzman kariv, v’imru: — Amein.

— Throughout the world that You have offered us, a world of majestic peaceful order
that gives life to the Godwrestling folk
through time and through eternity —- And let’s say, Amein

Y’hei sh’mei rabbah, me’vorach, l’olam almei almaya.

So may the Great Name be blessed, through every Mystery and Mastery of every universe.

Yitbarach, v’yishtabach, v’yitpa’ar, v’yitromam, v’yitnasei, v’yit’hadar, v’yit’aleh, v’yit’halal — Shmei di’kudshah, –

Brich hu (Cong: Brich Hu)

May Your Name be blessed and celebrated, Its beauty honored and raised high, may It be lifted and carried,
may Its radiance be praised in all Its Holiness — Blessed be!

L’eylah min kol bir’chatah v’shir’atah tush’be’chatah v’nehematah, de’amiran be’alma, v’imru: Amein (Cong: Amein)

Even though we cannot give You enough blessing, enough song, enough praise, enough consolation to match what we wish to lay before you -
And though we know that today there is no way to console You
when among us some who bear Your Image in our being
are slaughtering others who bear Your Image in our being -

Yehei Shlama Rabah min Shemaya v’chayyim { aleinu v’al kol Yisrael, v’imru Amein.

Still we beseech that from the unity of Your Great Name
flow a great and joyful harmony and life for us and for all who wrestle God; (Cong: Amein)

Oseh Shalom bi’m'romav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol yisrael v’al kol yishmael v’al kol yoshvei tevel — v’imru: Amein.

You who make harmony in the ultimate reaches of the universe,
teach us to make harmony within ourselves, among ourselves –
and peace for the Godwrestling folk, the people Israel;
for the children of Ishmael;
and for all who dwell upon this planet. (Cong: Amein)

2 Christmas

Readings are here

This week marks the 13th anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood. I was ordained on January 6, 1996.

It is hard for me to focus on anything but the terrible war ongoing near the very place where the readings for the visitation of the wise ones take place. All those inflicting violence in Gaza seem more allied with Herod who slaughtered the innocents for the preservation of his own power than with either Jesus' family or the Magi.

I read the news from all sides in the conflict and do not know who is more righteous. The Palestinians, confined and barricaded in small bits of their former lands, the Israelis under siege by those who would eliminate them from the region? Perhaps it is the Israelis who even now are protesting the actions of their own government or the Palestinian medical and aid workers desperately trying to save all lives in hospitals with broken windows and few supplies?

Our hearts cry out for wisdom and finding another way. The Magi had the wisdom to look for the Christ child. They discovered that God appears in the most unlikely of places. When they returned home it is said they went "another way." The powers of the world do not seem to have the will nor the wisdom to find answers. Perhaps there are none when both parties want the same land and sovereignty. The strategy that is being pursued has not worked so far and does not seem likely to produce anything but a constant cycle of revenge and violence. I remember times of hope along the way during this conflict. The Oslo accords, the meetings at Camp David (where President Jimmy Carter was able to get each side to see what they needed beyond the cycle of violence), the truces, the leadership that rose up in new ways but was soon cut down often by their own people. It is not often that leaders arise, like Nelson Mandela and Bishop Tutu who can see a larger picture and encourage all of us to see one another as children of God where all children can find safety and a life of peace.

What is our call in the midst of this and other tragedies around the world? Support those who work for peace, those who call for new ways of relationships. Give to the Anglican hospital that cares for all regardless of nationality and ethnicity. It all seems too small in the face of the overwhelming and seemingly intractable issues but I take heart from the infant lying in the manger and from the wise ones who knew enough to be humble and giving. It is the only thing I know.

Give to Episcopal Relief and Development here to assist the hospital in Gaza.

As the attacks in Gaza continue, Episcopal Relief & Development is in contact with the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem. Our partner, Ahli Arab Hospital in Gaza, is still providing emergency health care. The staff and volunteers are currently physically safe but will need supplies. We will continue to be in close contact with partners in Gaza in order to monitor the situation and plan the best response.

1 Christmas

Readings are here.

Not preaching this week but for me Robert Fulghum captures part of the meaning of the Prologue to John in his story of the boy with the mirror:

"Are there any questions?" an offer that comes at the end of college lectures and long meetings. Said when an audience is not only overdosed with information, but when there is no time left anyhow. At times like that you sure do have questions. Like, "Can we leave now?" and "What the hell was this meeting for?" and "Where can I get a drink?"
 The gesture is supposed to indicate openness on the part of the speaker, I suppose, but if in fact you do ask a question, both the speaker and the audience will give you drop-dead looks. And some fool - some earnest idiot - always asks. And the speaker always answers. By repeating most of what he has already said.
But if there is a little time left and there is a little silence left in response to the invitation, I usually ask the most important question of all: "What is the Meaning of Life?" You never know, somebody may have the answer, and I'd really hate to miss it because I was too socially inhibited to ask. But when I ask, it is usually taken as a kind of absurdist move - people laugh and nod and gather up their stuff and the meeting is dismissed on that ridiculous note.
Once, and only once, I asked that question and got a serious answer…



Papaderos rose from his chair at the back of the room and walked to the front, where he stood in the bright Greek sunlight of an open window and looked out… He turned. And made the ritual gesture: "Are there any questions?"
 Quiet quilted the room. These two weeks had generated enough questions for a lifetime, but for now there was only silence.
"No questions?" Papaderos swept the room with his eyes.
 So. I asked.
"Dr. Papaderos, what is the meaning of life?" 
The usual laughter followed, and people stirred to go. 
Papaderos held up his hand and stilled the room and looked at me for a long time, asking with his eyes if I was serious and seeing from my eyes that I was.
 "I will answer your question."


Taking his wallet out of his hip pocket, he fished into a leather billfold and brought out a very small round mirror, about the size of a quarter.
 And what he said went like this:
 "When I was a small child, during the war, we were very poor and we lived in a remote village. One day, on the road, I found the broken pieces of a mirror. A German motorcycle had been wrecked in that place.
 "I tried to find all the pieces and put them together, but it was not possible, so I kept only the largest piece. This one. And by scratching it on a stone I made it round. I began to play with it as a toy and became fascinated by the fact that I could reflect light into dark places where the sun would never shine - in deep holes and crevices and dark closets. It became a game for me to get light into the most inaccessible places I could find. 
"I kept the little mirror, and as I went about my growing up, I would take it out in idle moments and continue the challenge of the game.

As I became a man, I grew to understand that this was not just a child's game but a metaphor for what I might do with my life. I came to understand that I am not the light or the source of light. But light - truth, understanding, knowledge - is there, and it will only shine in many dark places if I reflect it.
 "I am a fragment of a mirror whose design and shape I do not know. Nevertheless, with what I have I can reflect light into the dark places of this world - into the black places in the hearts of men - and change some things in some people. Perhaps others may see and do likewise. This is what I am about. This is the meaning of my life."


And then he took his small mirror and, holding it carefully, caught the bright rays of daylight streaming through the window and reflected them onto my face and onto my hands folded on the desk.

And something from Howard Thurman:

The Work of Christmas
by Howard Thurman

When the star in the sky is gone,
When the Kings and Princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flocks,
The work of Christmas begins.
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry
To release the prisoner,
To teach the nations,

To bring Christ to all,
To make music in the heart.

And what this season is all about:

On the feast of Stephen

Finally catching up on my Christmas sleep deficit. Daughter, SIL, and grandson left on Christmas eve afternoon to arrive by 5 p.m. for services in the log church at Eden. The snow and wind in some parts of the highway made it difficult to see the road in some parts. After a stop in the "saloon" across the highway for nature needs, we had a fun time singing carols to the old pump organ. Grandson played Good King Wenceslas for the offertory.

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

Two of the women who were there were born near the church in a log cabin. Their father had helped build the church.

After some spiced cider and several cookies we headed for Rock Springs. Clear roads and the Senior Warden's warm house welcomed us. SIL made mac and cheese to sustain us through the rest of the evening. Carols began at 10:30 p.m. and service at 11. Grandson reprised GKW. The most fun for me was having grandson and daughter acolyting for the service. All dressed in red cassocks and white surplice - they did a great job - daughter had not acolyted for 20 years - g-son - never.

We had a nice crowd - many people I had never seen before - so that was lovely. In the morning 2 of us did Christmas Day service and then back in the car for the drive home. Roads much better tho it was snowing - no wind. Arrived in time to do the opening of the presents. Then after a nap I made gravy and we ate a delicious dinner cooked mainly by our DIL -- who stayed home slaving over the hot stove and oven to feed us. It was a great Christmas gift to me not having to think about cooking when knee deep in Christmas services.

Now it is the day after - kids watching the Grinch (who was featured in my sermon!) along with Superman.

Advent IV more

As usual the sermon went its own way. God cannot be contained. God tells David I cannot be contained in a house - no matter how beautiful. I am the God of the tents - I live with the people - I am wherever they gather. I will surprise you with my appearance. I can go wherever I wish - be born from a virgin's womb, born a helpless infant and not a mighty warrior, show up where you least expect me. Trevor Huddleston, a white priest in South Africa tipped his hat to a black mother. Desmond Tutu saw his mother being treated as an equal and it changed his whole understanding of his place in the world. Willie Misner, was accepted into art school but then rejected when they discovered she was a woman. She continued her art and gave her gift to others - as we see in the creche in this very church. Many of the figures were made by the children with her help - but this one young girl reflect the joy of a young woman in her acceptance of the gift of Christ born in our midst. Willie took her gift and shared her gift that others might discover their gifts. Trevor Huddleston, in a small gesture of respect - gave a gift from his understanding of the gift of God in Christ. (see previous post)

Today I read about a musical group, Lost and Found Orchestra Bishop Alan Wilson writes about it:

No conventional instruments are involved. An orchestra of 50 (plus choir of 40) produce a riot of co-ordinated, elaboate, messy joy. The instruments are made from a variety of items off a skip (US - Dumpster), including parking cones, saws, crutches, shopping trolleys, rubber hosing and IV Drip stands. There’s dance involved, and presentation is as important as the sound. It’s a whole composite deal, where everyone is someone. It alll sounds a bit like Adiemus, but crazier. To get the best of it, you do have to be there — no mere film can do it justice.

I think we learned something last night —
It’s amazing what you can find in the things people trash — there is music hidden away in everything, waiting for people with the imagination and commitment to release it together.

Anthony de Mello tells us:

Finally I recall the song the angels sang
when Christ was born.
They sang of the peace and joy
that give God glory.
Have I ever heard the song the angels sang when I was born ? ...
I see with joy what has been done through me
to make the world a better place...
and I join those angels
in the song they sang
to celebrate my birth.

Can you hear the song the angels sang at your birth?

Advent IV

Readings are here.

Mary is the focus of today's readings. We said together the Magnificat - her song about this event that turns the world upside down. A baby's birth that changes the whole world forever.

The reading from 2 Samuel is set up as a conversation between David and God. David has accomplished many things. He has set up a might kingdom. He wants to build a house for God. God seems to laugh at the idea that a human can build a house to contain the presence of God. God says: "Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, "Why have you not built me a house of cedar?"

God is the God of the tents - God who moves in the midst of the people - God cannot be contained is a building made by people. The whole universe is not big enough to contain the presence of God. "No," God says. "I am the one who does the building of holy places."

God creates the universe and yet builds a home in our hearts. And in the story of Mary makes a home in the womb of a young woman - a teenage girl. It is all so mysterious and wild - the revelation - just like God to surprise us in this way.

Saly Boyd - a priest in Wright, Wyoming, send me this poem that reflects some of this mystery:

Mary’s Song (A Poem by Luci Shaw)

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest …
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves' voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.

Each of us is called to be open to the birth of God within us. To be open to the Holy Spirit making a home in our hearts. Really when each of was born we made this world a place it never was before. Jesus' birth brought changes that echo through the centuries and continues to change hearts and transform lives. But each of us too changed the world just be being here.

Trevor Huddleston, a priest in South Africa who inspired Bishop Tutu, says: “God himself has entered this world, has been ‘enfleshed’ in our common humanity and has therefore given to every person an infinite and changeless dignity.”

Anthony de Mello writes:

The events of history were controlled
for my coming to this world
no less than for the coming of the Savior.
The time had to be ripe ...
the place just right...
the circumstances ready ...
before I could be born
God chose the parents of his Son
and endowed them with the personality they needed
for the Child that would be born,
1 speak to God about the man and woman that he chose
to be my parents...
until 1 see that they had to be
the kind of human beings they were
if I was to become
what God meant me to be.
The Christ child comes, like every other child,
to give the world a message.
What message have I come to give? ...
I seek guidance from the Lord to express it
in award...
or image...
Christ comes into this world
to walk a certain path,
fulfill a certain destiny.
He consciously fulfilled what had been "written "for him.
As 1 look back I see in wonder what was "written "
and has thus far been fulfilled in my own life...
and for each part ofthat script,
however small
I say, "Thanks"...
to make it holy with my gratitude.
I look with expectation and surrender
at all that is to come...
and, like the Christ,
I say, "Yes, Let it be done"...
Finally I recall the song the angels sang
when Christ was born.
They sang of the peace and joy
that give God glory.
Have I ever heard the song the angels sang when I was born ? ...
I see with joy what has been done through me
to make the world a better place...
and I join those angels
in the song they sang
to celebrate my birth.

What is that song that is your life? How are you singing it? Who else is humming along with you? Listen.


Icon by Laurie Gudim at Everyday Mysteries.