'Like a dove' - July 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; 1 Samuel 17:17-30; Acts 10:34-48; Mark 1:1-13

Today’s Reflection

“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” –Mark 1: 9-11

I’ve always found birds both comforting and fascinating. Their songs bring me a sense of joy and peace. Their fluttering and gliding about the yard, eating seeds, finding worms, splashing around in water, reminds me always of the ways God provides for even the birds of the air. Birds’ interactions with one another often remind me by analogy of the ways in which we people can interact with one another—there’s enough seed for everyone, and different kinds of birds can all come and find sustenance together around the same feeder. In my childhood home, one of my bedroom windows looked out onto a small patio, from which hanging pots hung down from the eaves. I still remember the mother dove who once decided to make a nest for her eggs in one of these potted plants, just outside my window, and I recall watching with expectation for when the dove eggs would hatch.

So, it’s not surprising that when I made my first visit to the Seminary of the Southwest in Austin back in 2016, I noticed the doves. Maybe birds are not what everyone notices when they visit a seminary campus, but the doves’ presence there was very striking to me. The seminary campus is quite small, a cloister of two-story, limestone-covered buildings gathered roughly in a circle facing inward toward an open area called the Motte (which is a term specific to the Southwest for a grove of trees). The trees in the Motte are all oak trees, many of which are beautiful old live oak trees that have been there since the Rather House (now the seminary administration building) was a family home in the old days of Austin.

In our Judeo-Christian heritage, doves have long played an important role in the relationship between God and people. When the earth flooded and Noah took his family and the animals into the ark, he sent a dove out to see if it would return; when the dove returned with a sprig of olive leaves in its beak, Noah saw it as a sign that the waters were receding. In the Song of Solomon, doves are used in this love poem as a way of describing the beauty of the beloved. Throughout the Scriptures, doves are frequently mentioned as the sacrifice that people of meager means, like Joseph and Mary, could afford to bring to the temple.

And so, when we read in Mark’s Gospel that at the baptism of Jesus the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus “like a dove,” we are not surprised to read of the Spirit being described in this way. If you’ve ever watched doves, you know that they flutter their wings in a particular way as they hover down to a particular landing spot. This seems to be what Mark was getting at when he uses the image of the dove to describe the Holy Spirit descending on Jesus as he rose forth from the waters of the Jordan.

In the quiet of that first evening at the seminary, and again in other quiet moments on that campus visit, I noticed the sounds of doves calling in these oak trees. The acoustics of the stone buildings arranged around the Motte amplified their calls. As one who was there as part of an intense period of discernment, and as one who has long looked for and listened for God in nature, I found a sense of God’s peace and holiness in the sounds of those doves. It felt like confirmation, in a way, that this would be a peaceful and holy place to be formed for ministry. Later, when my family moved there for seminary, we put out a feeder to attract these same doves to the little tree that shaded our front porch. And as I went about my seminary life those three years, I always stopped to listen when I heard the doves continue to call out to one another—and, maybe, also to me.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

What reminds you of the presence of the Holy Spirit at work in your life and in the world around you? A gentle breeze? A gusty wind? A cleansing rain? The waves of the ocean? The flickering of a candle’s flame? A roaring fire? The sounds of doves? The voice of a friend?

See and read about one visual representation of Christ’s baptism in the Visual Commentary on Scripture. You can also use the search feature on this web site to explore how other artists have used doves in visual interpretations of scripture over the centuries.

God is in the grieving on our hearts – July 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14
1 Samuel 16:1-13; Acts 10:1-16; Luke 24:12-35

The LORD said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul?” (1 Samuel 16:1) That direct and holy question grabbed me this morning. God is in the grieving on our hearts.

In this text appointed for today, Samuel the prophet is heartbroken that King Saul has disobeyed God’s command. To fully follow the story, let’s go back one chapter. As 1 Samuel 15 tells it, the LORD said to Saul through Samuel: “I will punish the Amalekites for what they did in opposing the Israelites when they came up out of Egypt. Now go and attack Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have; do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” (v. 2-3). Saul plotted an attack, and with his troops they swiftly defeated the Amalekites. However, he spared the king and they salvaged the best of the livestock and all the other valuable things.

When Samuel met up with King Saul the next morning, Saul said to him, “May you be blessed by the LORD; I have carried out the command of the LORD.” In the background, Samuel heard commotion – the pastoral sounds of bleating sheep and lowing cattle – and asked Saul. Only then did the king divulge what Samuel already knew from God, that his people saved the most worthwhile livestock from the Amalekites and planned to sacrifice them to God.

Whether he bought Saul’s story or not, Samuel offered a poetic retort of wisdom, “Has the LORD as great delight in burnt-offering and sacrifices, as in obedience to the voice of the LORD? Surely, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed than the fat of rams. For rebellion is no less a sin than divination, and stubbornness is like iniquity and idolatry. Because you have rejected the word of the LORD, he has also rejected you from being king.”

Contrite, Saul tried to explain and defend himself. “I have sinned; for I have transgressed the commandment of the LORD and your words, because I feared the people and obeyed their voice.” Samuel knew that he must part ways with him, for Saul chose to bend to the people, rather than to stand up with and for God.

God anointed Saul through Samuel’s hands to be king over Israel. Samuel rooted for Saul and prayed for him. And then, when disappointment came, it was Samuel who brought closure to the saga at the end of chapter 15. While Saul spared the Amalekite king, Samuel followed God’s direction and “hewed Agag in pieces before the LORD in Gilgal.” (v. 33)

Samuel grieved. He grieved the loss of promise in king over Israel, the loss of life by his own hands, the loss of relationship with Saul. Bitter tears trickled down his cheeks and splashed on the ground. God was with Samuel in the pain and darkness. And God is with us in those moments of utter disappointment and disillusionment.

Perhaps there is a question someone will ask this week that reminds you or me of a space of grieving and loss. Maybe we keep looking back on the brokenness or push against what life today is like in a different paradigm we did not want or choose. There is no quick solution. Samuel knew that. God knows that…even when it is complicated, messy, and maybe feels unspeakable.

It is good for each of us to have someone to talk to about that honest part of our lived experience. With God’s grace, help, and courage, we can find ways to be present for all of today.

May God’s peace be upon you,

Katherine+

Temple Torn in Two: July 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; PM Psalm 4, 7; 1 Samuel 15:1-3,7-23; Acts 9:19b-31; Luke 23:44-56a

The curtain of the temple was torn in two. It sounds like a big deal. A curtain, torn in two. You get the impression that the curtain was part of the design of the temple, meaning it had been there for over 500 years. Maybe the curtain had been replaced, maybe not. But families, individuals, and sojourners had looked at that curtain (or one like it) for over half a millennium. That’s older than the United States. That’s about the length of time since Europeans first arrived in North America. A curtain that people had seen as the backdrop to their worship of God, the Holy of Holies, torn in two.

What would it mean to you to lose something that had been at the core of your identity for longer than we can comprehend? It’s hard to imagine. We are not immune to change. The loss of a loved one who we have spent the majority of our lives caring for and being cared for, the sudden change of everything we have known. Or the loss of what was important. A church closes, a town shudders, a business dissolves. A curtain is torn in two.

In today’s reading, the temple is torn before Jesus’s death, a different story than Matthew and Mark.  Regardless, the place that people had worshiped for most of their shared collective memory was changing. 

Sound familiar. While many of us still get to worship in vibrant settings, it’s hard to ignore that the church is not what it used to be, a hard truth for those of us who love the institution and have found so much life and hope in it.  

The curtain was torn in two, and a few years later the whole temple was destroyed. What was found in its place was the life and resurrection of Jesus Christ, a hope that people had not expected nor could really comprehend. And yet, the destruction of the temple gave birth to a whole new understanding of God, contained in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

Can we too be faithful to believe that God is always up to something new? The curtain was torn in two and what came next was so much more beautiful. What is in store for the institutions, systems, and experiences that we find torn in two, too?

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What could the temple be a metaphor for in your own life? How does hope help you transcend loss?

Struck by Holy Lightning - July 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 140, 142; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12); 1 Samuel 13:19-14:15; Acts 9:1-9; Luke 23:26-31

Today’s Reflection

The story of Saul’s conversion is so dramatic that now, when people have a similarly life-altering, perspective-changing experience we might say they had a “road to Damascus” experience. A total 180-degree change in purpose and life direction. Paul was a zealous persecutor of “any who belonged to the Way,” which is how Luke refers to the earliest Christians. He had just asked for a letter allowing him to go bring any Christ followers in Damascus to Jerusalem to answer for their faith.

Saul was on his way to go persecute more Christians when God decided it was time for Saul to hear from him directly and thereby have his whole life’s purpose changed. The way God went about this was not just spiritual but also physical, making it impossible for Saul and his companions to ignore: “a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice.” God used something that could be seen and felt and heard, things Saul and his companions could physically sense, to make sure they listened to the message he had for them: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” When Saul asked who was speaking, the reply he received was this: “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up, enter the city and you will be told what you are to do.”

Not only was the way of getting Saul’s attention dramatic—something akin to being struck by holy lightning—but the message was dramatic as well. It’s not just that Saul was persecuting followers of the Way of Jesus, but in so doing Saul was persecuting Jesus himself. If the church is the body of Christ, then it makes sense if you persecute the church then you are extension persecuting Jesus himself. This sounds reminiscent of Jesus’s earlier admonition, “Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me.”

These days, it can be hard to imagine God speaking to us in as dramatic of ways as Jesus spoke to Saul on the road to Damascus that day. But God is always speaking to us, always wanting us to be aware of his daily presence in our lives and wanting us to really listen for how God is moving in us and in the people and world around us. Maybe we will not literally hear the sound of Jesus’ voice in as plain of a way as Saul did, but if we orient our lives toward God through prayer, scripture, worship, time with other believers, and time in God’s creation, we will find that God still speaks to us as we make these spaces for holy listening and holy conversation a central part of our lives.

Speaking for myself, some of the most life-altering, perspective-changing experiences I have had tend to come through turning points in my health, relationships, or professional life. Seven years ago, I began to have some significant health problems that came on rather suddenly. I wasn’t struck down by heavenly light, but through a noticeable change in how I felt physically and not being able to do as much physically as I was used to being able to do.

This experience has had a long-lasting impact of my relationships with God and others. These physical changes in me made me less able to do everything for myself—and thereby made it necessary for me physically to stop and consciously ask for help from God and others. My sense of what was possible, what was necessary, and what was important was changed through this time of physical illness, and the ongoing implications for my health. This time of being ‘struck down’ physically seven years ago also coincided with a shift in me spiritually, which ultimately led me on a path on which God changed the course of my whole life and vocation through calling me to serve God and God’s people as a priest.

When we face our own “road to Damascus” moments, how will we get up and move forward even when at first, like Saul, we still cannot see the path for ourselves? Saul needed his friends to help him get up and lead him toward sustenance in that moment. We need each other to discern our next steps and make sure we make it to the next place down the road safely.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

In your prayer time today, set aside some time to reflect on how you have seen and felt God working in your life this past year. Thank God for specific people who have taken the time to reach out to you or your family. Ask God to place someone on your heart who you should reach out to today, someone who needs an extra word of reassurance or maybe even a helping hand.

Welcome to the faith! - July 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:145-176; PM Psalm 128, 129, 130
1 Samuel 12:1-6,16-25; Acts 8:14-25; Luke 23:1-12

In the reading from Acts 8 appointed for this morning, the Good News of God in Christ continues to spread far and wide. The people of Samaria receive the word of God. This is big news.

Samaria is the region sandwiched between Galilee to the north and Judea to the south. This was a non-Jewish people – descended from the remnant of the northern tribes that were left behind in the Babylonian exile (circa 586 BCE), experiencing their own loss and struggle. There was generational animosity between Jews and Samaritans. Through his ministry and teaching, Jesus tried to break down some of those barriers. Jesus' parable of the Good Samaritan comes to mind. The Samaritan woman who was at the well in the middle of the day - and Jesus asked her for a drink of water.

And today, we read of Peter and John going north from Jerusalem to worship with and minister to the Samaritans who have accepted God's word - for Philip the Evangelist had been proclaiming the life and legacy of Christ to them, bringing healing and joy (v. 6-8). Women and men of the region were been baptized, though only in the name of the Lord Jesus (v. 12, 16).

As the Holy Spirit had descended on Pentecost and each of the apostles was filled with the power to lay hands on people and pass along the Holy Spirit, Peter and John shared this upgraded way of initiating the Samaritans into the fold of the Way of Jesus. Filled with Word and healed by the Spirit, these new converts continued to share in the life of faith.

I love this part of today's New Testament scripture. It reminds me of something that happened this week. My seven year old bought a toy with his own money. He was so proud. He carried the little yellow stuffed animal around, introducing it to the spaces of our house and the ways we conduct life. Yesterday he said, "Mom, Pichu (the Pokemon toy's name), is a part of our family now. He needs a blessing!" Robinson handed me the eight-inch tall plush toy. We both made the sign of the cross on the toy's forehead.

How do we welcome the new ones in our fold into the Christian tradition and life? Perhaps you are new to Saint Stephen's and want to make sure you are a full part of how we live and move and have our being. Interested in baptism? Confirmation? Or maybe you just want to talk with a priest to wade through some sticky parts of your faith and doubt? The clergy of Saint Stephen's are here for you -- to celebrate, to pray, to lay hands upon your head. For we do all this with God's help and love, so that the joy of Christ may spread further and further in this world.

Blessings to you this day,

Katherine+

Question for Self-Reflection: 

What rituals help you feel more connected or at home - whether at home, in worship, or in an unfamiliar place?

Own worse critic? - July 3

Today’s Scripture:  AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; 1 Samuel 10:17-27; Acts 7:44-8:1a; Luke 22:52-62

‘Have you come out with swords and clubs as if I were a bandit?’ This simple question is what Jesus asks the chief priests, the religious leaders who have sought his arrest. His question raises two considerations for us as readers. First, Jesus understands the chief priests view him as a criminal. Second, they are attacking him in a violent manner. They do not view him as an equal, nor do they try other tactics in their assault on Jesus. 

Peter denies his role in this unfolding situation, an invitation for us to see ourselves in the story in the role of Peter. It sounds like a more Lenten reading, focusing on our own complicity in the story. We certainly have waged swords and clubs on things we see as bandits in our life.

A person recently told me about a picture received from a friend as a text message, followed by a text asking them not to post it online because they were worried it made them look too large. We wage wars with swords and clubs on ourselves too. Maybe we have made something the bandit that’s not at all.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Do you see yourself more as your own biggest supporter or largest critic? 

Casserole-worthy Struggles

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; 1 Samuel 3:1-21; Acts 2:37-47; Luke 21:5-19

Today’s Reflection

The Psalms appointed for today provide us a study in contrasts. In Psalm 88, we hear strong notes of desperation and hopelessness—one of many songs of lament included amongst the Psalter. But then Psalm 91 comes across as a song of encouragement—a prayer admonishing the one addressed that God will remain with them, no matter what troubles may be encountered. Then we find in Psalm 92 a song of thankfulness, acknowledging God’s steadfast presence through all things, the good and the not-so-good times, even in the downright bad times. This is one of the things I love most about the Psalms—they capture so beautifully and so accurately the wide array of moods and states of mind we will experience throughout our lives.

We all go through different moods and states of mind. Many things factor into how we feel mentally, emotionally, and physically on a given day. Some of how we feel is situational—what is happening in the world around us—whether in our home, our social life, our work life, or out in our community and the wider world.

During the recent global Covid-19 pandemic, people experienced the stresses of isolation, changes in work-life balance, not to mention the traumas of severe illness and even the death of loved ones. Then, over this past year, we here at Saint Stephen’s experienced gun violence in our church building, with the ensuing, ongoing trauma and all the ways this trauma impacts our daily lives. Living in a world of constantly changing conditions takes its own toll, and each of us will be impacted in distinctive ways. Going through these two very different kinds of trauma, we are necessarily changed on some levels in how we see ourselves, our world, and how we respond to the people and situations we encounter moving forward.

But not everything about our emotional and mental state is explained by outside, situational factors. Our internal physiology also should be considered. Mental health can also be influenced through experiencing trauma at some point in life (even long ago), or through our genetic predisposition, or due to changes in brain function (whether permanent or temporary) due to injury, illness, aging, and so on.

As a priest, I wonder sometimes how all the above—these environmental and physiological factors—interact with and influence how a person experiences a sense of connection with God. Recently, I read a book called Darkness is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness by Katherine Greene-McCreight, an Episcopal priest and theologian affiliated with Yale Divinity School. Greene-McCreight found herself dealing first with post-partum depression and later was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder, for which she has been hospitalized on occasion and continues treatment for through both medication and talk therapy. So, all that is to say, she’s not writing about the intersection of mental health and Christian faith from some abstract, theological perspective—this is her life, and as such her life has informed her vocations as priest and theologian. She titled her book Darkness in My Only Companion inspired by these lines from Psalm 88 we read today:

But as for me, O Lord, I cry to you for help;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Lord, why have you rejected me?
why have you hidden your face from me?
Ever since my youth, I have been wretched and at the point of death;
I have borne your terrors with a troubled mind.
Your blazing anger has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me;
They surround me all day long like a flood;
they encompass me on every side.
My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me,
and darkness is my only companion.  (Psalm 88: 14-19)

As Steve Moore, a parishioner here at Saint Stephen’s has said regarding both substance use issues and mental health issues, these are the life circumstances for which people are not usually offering to bring over a casserole—or any of the other usual ways we show tangible support for people who are struggling with their physical health. What I know of this subject comes from firsthand experience over the years of knowing and supporting those who experience life with mental illness. Knowing and supporting them has given me a special appreciation for the challenges they face—and for the challenge for us in the church to acknowledge what is often treated as shameful both in the church and in the wider culture.

Psalm 88 captures so well that sense of isolation and not being understood that are experienced by people in a number of challenging life situations—whether due to grieving a loved one, facing a life-threatening physical illness, being socially ostracized, or dealing with depression or another mental health challenge. But we also find in Psalms 91 a clear reminder of the hope and comfort that God holds out to us all, especially at those times when the light of hope is shining only very dimly somewhere out there in the distance:

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High,
abides under the shadow of the Almighty.
He shall say to the Lord,
“You are my refuge and my stronghold,
my God in whom I put my trust.”
He shall deliver you from the snare of the hunter
and from the deadly pestilence.
He shall cover you with his pinions,
and you shall find refuge under his wings;
his faithfulness shall be a shield and buckler.

For he shall give his angels charge over you,
to keep you in all your ways.
They shall bear you in their hands,
lest you dash your foot against a stone. (Psalm 91: 1-4, 11-12)

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Which lines of Psalm 88 resonate most with you? What challenging time in life does this Psalm bring to mind for you? Which lines from Psalm 91 do you find most comforting?

Daily Challenge

Consider reading Katherine Greene-McCreight’s book Darkness is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness. Or consider reading Christian ethicist and theologian Stanley Hauerwas’ book, Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir, which includes his reflections on being married to a spouse who struggled with mental illness.

A Mother's Love and Sacrifice - June 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; 1 Samuel 2:12-26; Acts 2:1-21; Luke 20:27-40

Today’s Reflection

Samuel was ministering before the Lord, a boy wearing a linen ephod. His mother used to make for him a little robe and take it to him each year, when she went up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice. Then Eli would bless Elkanah and his wife, and say, ‘May the Lord repay you with children by this woman for the gift that she made to the Lord’; and then they would return to their home. And the Lord took note of Hannah; she conceived and bore three sons and two daughters. And the boy Samuel grew up in the presence of the Lord. —1 Samuel 2: 18-21

Many of you are familiar with the story of Samuel, who as a young boy, maybe a teenager, heard a voice which turned out to be the voice of God. But Samuel is not the only one who heard God’s call in this story. Other people had to have faith and listen to God’s voice in order to lay the foundation that made it possible for Samuel to do the same when his own time came.

Samuel’s mother Hannah was married to Elkanah, who also had another wife, Peninnah, with whom he had sons and daughters. Hannah, too, desperately wanted to have children, but year after year no child came to Hannah and her husband. Setting aside that he had two wives, since that was culturally acceptable back then, other than that, Elkinah seems to have been a good husband. He gave Hannah “a double portion because he loved her, though the LORD had closed her womb.” Peninnah flouted her abundance of children, causing Hannah great sadness and frustration. Elkanah, for all his understanding, couldn’t fully understand Hannah’s grief: “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?” In other words, why aren’t I enough?

But Hannah believed deep in her heart that she was meant to have a child, meant to be a mother. She felt called to it. So she kept praying at Shiloh and kept asking God to hear her and send her a son. And she made a promise—if you give me a son, I will dedicate him to you and the service of your temple. As she prayed so intently, the priest Eli heard her as “she poured out her soul before the LORD.” She explained to Eli that she was praying so intently because of “my great anxiety and vexation.” Eli responded with kindness and offered Hannah some hope: “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.”

Fast forward and we learn that God granted Hannah and Elkanah the son Hannah had hoped for, a son they named Samuel. And once Samuel was weaned, probably 3 to 4 years old in those times, Hannah brought Samuel to serve alongside Eli in the temple. We get a sense of her great attachment to Samuel, and how heart-wrenching it was for her to give him up to the Lord, that she would visit him every year and bring him a new little robe, ensuring that he would have a tangible sign of being clothed and covered in his mother’s love.

In order for Samuel to exist, and to be there in the temple apprenticed to Eli, his mother Hannah first had to be listening to God’s voice stirring in her, helping her to stay close to God and keep holding on to hope that God had something better in store for her, that she was not destined to stay mired in hopelessness. Hannah had faith that God heard her. And Hannah had faith that God would watch over her son and that he was meant to serve God and his people for his whole life. She had to have faith and be listening to God in order for so many other things to be set into motion for so many other people.

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Who is someone who has been faithful to pray for you, whether over the course of many years or during a particular phase or season of your life? Who is someone who has made great sacrifices for you, whose care for you changed the course of your life?

Daily Challenge

Learn more of what Bible scholars know about Hannah in this article by Ruth Fidler, posted on Bible Odyssey.

Do you Worry about the Future? June 19

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; 1 Samuel 1:1-20; Acts 1:1-14; Luke 20:9-19

Fourteen years ago this summer, Anne and I traveled to Northern Spain to walk sections of the Camino de Santiago. I had taken the youth from the Church of the Holy Communion in Memphis, Tennessee the summer before and I was eager to go back with more time and freedom at my disposal. This time, we did things a little differently. While I made train reservations and hotel reservations in Santiago, we did not book our places to stay along the path. Instead, we trusted in the system of hostels along the path, finding a place to stay at the end of each day.

Anne and I approached our pilgrimage in two very different ways. I found myself anxious that the beds would fill up and so I pushed our trip at a faster pace than we should have, often walking a pace or two ahead of Anne. This story has become a running joke in our family. Anne who was comfortable enjoying the moment, and me rushing ahead to the finish line often missing out on the beautiful gift of just being on the journey in the first place, approaching life in two very different ways.

While intuitively I knew that the pilgrimage is really about the journey and not the destination, my own anxiety kept me from living into this reality.  Today’s Epistle is the beginning of the book of Acts. It begins with Jesus’ ascension into heaven. The apostles are gathered around and they are concerned about when the Lord will restore God’s kingdom. Jesus reminds them, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Not surprisingly, they have a tough time living into this vision.  Some of the epistles address this, their belief that Jesus is coming back and so they fail to be witnesses to the ends of the earth.

Anxiety about the future has always existed. And yet Jesus’s word to his friends in Acts is a timeless reminder that our job is not to worry about the future, but for us to be witnesses to God’s love. The question for each of us is “Do we trust in the words of Jesus enough to let go of our desire to know the future?” No matter what happens tomorrow, we can still be witnesses to God’s love, hope, and resurrection.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Does anxiety about the future affect your life?  How can prayer and faith change that?

 Daily Challenge:  Consider the Serenity Prayer as source of help. 

One Year Ago - June 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73; Ecclus. 45:6-16; 2 Cor. 12:11-21; Luke 19:41-48

Today’s Reflection

“Save me, O God, for the waters have risen up to my neck. I am sinking in deep mire, and there is no firm ground for my feet. I have come into deep waters, and the torrent washes over me. I have grown weary with my crying; my throat is inflamed; my eyes have failed from looking for my God.” Psalm 69: 1-4

A year ago today, I was not here in Birmingham. I was in London, doing a study course called Learning from London with Bexley-Seabury Seminary. I love London, with its beautiful architecture, gorgeous gardens and parks, outstanding museums, and an incredibly diverse population of residents and visitors from around the world. And I love Learning from London—I so much enjoyed that immersion experience as a seminary student in 2018 that I wanted to do it again as a priest in 2022.

I’d had a very tough summer personally in 2021, so I was determined that in 2022 I would have a much better summer—and that I’d start it off right by going back to England. And I was excited for the chance to be inspired again by all the innovative ways churches in the Diocese of London are connecting with their communities. I had high hopes of returning to Saint Stephen’s with ideas and energy for opening our doors and our hearts to our neighbors in new and creative ways.

That Thursday, June 16, we had another long day out and about around London—visiting churches from the Sir Christopher Wren-designed St. James, Piccadilly in Soho to the brand-new St. Francis at the Engine Room in Tottenham Hale in East London. As I scroll back through the photographs from that day on my phone, I see blue skies and bright colors and memories of an unusually hot June day traipsing around this massive city with clergy colleagues from around the U.S. and Canada.

The last photo from that day is of a particularly fancy drink I had (a peach bergamot negroni in a lavender-encrusted glass that really was photo worthy). I ordered this negroni (the first time I’d ever had one) at an Italian restaurant called Amalfi in Soho. A few of us headed back to that part of town as I was on a mission to go back to Liberty of London to get another couple metres of fabric for some clergy dresses I’d been planning to have made by Watts & Co. (I’d been to Liberty to buy fabric the day before, but learned I hadn’t bought enough.) I convinced a few classmates to go with me to that neighborhood, and I’d just run down the street to get the fabric while they enjoyed their drinks and appetizers. Our course professor and two other classmates ended up joining us there later, and we lingered over wine and dinner for probably three hours or more. A perfect end to our day.

So we returned much later than usual to the Highbury Centre where we were staying. I hadn’t been asleep for long, and was sleeping especially soundly, when my phone (which I had on the bed beside my head as an alarm clock) started to ring. I woke up feeling confused for a second, who would be calling so late—and surprised that my ringer was actually on, because I keep it on silent 99% of the time. I picked it up, looked at it, noted the time (1:20 something), and was very surprised to see that it was Lisa Schroeder from our church. In my very groggy state, I answered and asked Lisa if she remembered that I was in London. She did know, and said that she was calling to see if I had heard anything about a shooting at Saint Stephen’s.

A friend of hers, who had been a part of our book group sometimes, had called Lisa to see if she knew what was going on. As I talked with Lisa, and began to wake up and try to make sense of what I was hearing, I pictured that maybe there had been some sort of incident in the back parking lot. As I spoke with Lisa, I told her I would try to find out what was going on. As soon as I went to al.com, I saw the lead story—with pictures of police cars by the entrance to our church and blocking off Crosshaven—and my heart sank.

I began to try to get in touch with my colleagues, and at some point in the wee hours had a brief, convoluted conversation or two with John, who was an hour or so ahead of me in Greece. I got online and watched as Brad Landry from All Saints led an impromptu prayer service on Facebook, and later caught part of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s prayers for us. I saw pictures of people gathered to pray in the Publix parking lot. I heard that some people from the Parish Hall had made their way to the apartments across the street. Things started to seem both more real and more surreal.

I couldn’t go back to sleep. The sun comes up early in England in the summer, around 4:30 a.m. Around 6 something, I decided to walk up to the coffee shop by the Highbury Islington tube station to get some fresh air and some much-needed caffeine. At that point I’d had no in-person contact with anyone aside from the person who sold me my coffee. But as it happens, I had made plans by text the evening before to meet Josiah and Katie Rengers (fellow priests here in Birmingham) for breakfast that morning, Friday, June 17. We had figured out the day before that we were all staying at the same place there in London, but they were leaving that day to go to Wales. I had texted Josiah a link to the al.com story so they would know about it before we met. I appreciated the hug from Josiah that morning, and having a familiar face and voice there as I had my first real conversation about it all. In those first moments talking with Josiah, with the help of some caffeine, I began trying to make sense of what had happened to these dearly loved parishioners who had just been trying to share a simple evening of fellowship together in our Parish Hall.

After breakfast with the Rengers, I gathered with the Learning from London group for morning prayers, and felt the warmth and love of these new friends as they prayed for all the people of Saint Stephen’s that day. I gave them my regrets that I could not join them for the last day of church site visits, then went back upstairs to my little room to try to figure out what I could write as the Daily Reflection for that Friday. I had brought my iPad, and so I sat there at my little desk overlooking the street asking God to show me what to say (and he did).

After I queued up my Daily Reflection in Constant Contact and our website, I thought: what else can I do? I had a very clear sense that my task was to construct a list of everyone who had been at the Boomers dinner and begin to try to send them texts and leave them voice mails. Later that day, I began to hear back from some of them. I remember very clearly conversations I had with a few, and texts with others. Talking with them and hearing their voices helped me know better how to pray. Mainly, I wanted to make sure they heard my voice and hear me tell them that I was praying for them and that I love them.

At that point, it was approaching midday in London (and still in the wee hours of June 17 back home). I had emailed Fiona to see if she’d be OK with my doing our online Morning Prayer on Facebook that day, which in London would be at 2:30 p.m. Since I had a few hours until then, I decided that I would do something to get me out in the fresh air and the light of day for a while—take the tube across town to the neighborhood of Westminster Abbey to deliver my fabric to Watts & Co.

I put on my black clergy dress (the only one I’d brought with me) on that very hot London day (up to 95 degrees that day), and rushed off across town. I know it may sound like a frivolous thing to do on such a somber day, but I couldn’t go back to sleep, I didn’t want to sit around and get sucked into further despair, and (as I’ve told a few of you) I wasn’t going to let that jerk (the shooter) keep me from ordering my dresses.

I made it to Watts & Co., placed my order and left them my fabrics, and began to try to quickly make my way back toward the tube station by Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. I got back on the tube with no problems and made it back over to Highbury Islington. But as I looked at the time, I began to panic. I was going to be cutting it really close to get back to the Highbury Centre to do Morning Prayer at 2:30. I started to walk very fast, and then at the end was running through the streets of Highbury to get back into my accommodations with only minutes to spare.

I decided I’d lead Morning Prayer from one of the common areas downstairs, and ended up in this room with emerald green walls and a clock on the wall behind me. I quickly pulled over a small table, set up my iPad, and hoped that the Internet connection and Facebook Live would cooperate. I was sweating from rushing across London in the 95-degree heat as I began the livestream. Not only did it feel surreal to be doing Morning Prayer from London, and with no sleep, but also I felt a bit anxious about being sure to pray in ways that protected the privacy of the families not to mention striking the right tones of mourning and community and even forgiveness. As I led the prayers, hundreds of people from all around the United States and the world—including some familiar names of seminary classmates—commented to let us know they were praying with and for us in real-time.

I remember as I heard from people back home, some were concerned that I was all alone to deal with the devastating news of what was happening back at Saint Stephen’s. But what I want you all to know is that I never felt alone. Not only did I receive so many texts from home, but what are the chances that not one but two other priests from our Diocese would be staying in the very same lodging as me—and that we’d had plans to meet that morning. Then, when I rejoined my Learning from London cohort that night for dinner, I was surrounded by priests and future priests who couldn’t have been more supportive. I stepped out of dinner to take a call from Kathy Graham, who had recently joined our staff, and felt comforted to hear her voice. At some point, I joined an emergency staff meeting via Zoom, but I am not sure what day or time that was.

And as I finished my time in London that weekend (looking toward flying back to the U.S. on that Monday), I worshipped that Sunday, June 19 at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, whose priest Sam had spoken at Saint Stephen’s and at our Diocesan Convention just a few months earlier. When he heard of the shooting here, Sam offered to meet with me after church that day, to be a sounding board as I began to process all that happened—and all that would be awaiting me back in Birmingham. That Sunday afternoon, Sam also began to help me think through how I would preach what might be the most important sermon I’d ever given that following Sunday, June 26. I’m grateful to Sam for coming to speak and preach at Saint Stephen’s a few months later, in October, to help all of us continue to process what happened—as well as for his kind words in support of the anthology of essays written by parishioners and staff about their own June 16 experiences.

As long as this remembrance is, I know I’ve likely left some important moments out. But I am glad that I can finally write down and reflect on these memories as we mark this one-year anniversary of all that unfolded on June 16, 2022 at Saint Stephen’s. Thanks for reading and remembering with me.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

Click here to read the Daily Reflection (“Hearts Broken Open”) I wrote on June 17, 2022.

Click here to listen to my sermon from June 26, 2022, “Lingering in the Ruins and Picking Up the Mantle.”

Teachers of the Earth - June 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Deut. 31:30-32:14; 2 Cor. 11:21b-33; Luke 19:11-27

1 Give ear, O heavens, and I will speak;

   let the earth hear the words of my mouth.

2 May my teaching drop like the rain,

   my speech condense like the dew;

like gentle rain on grass,

   like showers on new growth.

3 For I will proclaim the name of the Lord;

   ascribe greatness to our God!

We were walking along the Cahaba River in Helena a few weeks ago with a group on one of the church’s monthly Holy Hikes. As we often do on these hikes, instead of preaching, we invite people to share what they have seen on the hike that stands out. I had noticed that the ferns were stretching out, as if they were singing this beautiful song, making a joyful noise unto the Lord. 

We often look to nature to glean a deeper understanding of God.  I’ve heard many times from many people this idea that people find God in nature. I’ve had similar experiences glancing at the vast night sky or being engulfed in an old-growth forest where I begin to just get a glimpse of the immeasurable expanse of creation. We learn about God, about Resurrection, about life, and care through the created world.  

Our passage from Deuteronomy offers us a different perspective, one frankly that I haven’t really considered before – the earthy might learn from us. “Give ear, O heavens… let the earth hear the words of my mouth.” The author then continues to use what the author has learned from creation. “May my teaching drop like the rain, my speech condense like the dew.”  Here the author is pivoting back and using how creation has informed the author's understanding of God.  But I can’t ignore the idea that the earth will hear the teaching too. 

What are we teaching the earth by our blatant disregard for the earth’s health? What does this teach the earth about the sacredness of God and God’s intention in creation? What if we taught the earth like we teach our children, through care and patience, and intention? Maybe it’s silly to consider but we certainly have a relationship with the earth and healthy relationships are mutual. What can we offer back to what has given us everything?  Praise, care, and love seem a good place to start.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What has the earth learned from you recently?  How can you give back to the earth that we are in relationship with?  

Daily Challenge:  Spend time outside today, time you wouldn’t have spent.   

Blessings and Curses and God - June 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; Deut. 30:1-10; 2 Cor. 10:1-18; Luke 18:31-43

When all these things have happened to you, the blessings and the curses that I have set before you… then the Lord your God will restore your fortunes and have compassion on you, gathering you again from all the peoples among whom the Lord your God has scattered you.

What a message for the beginning of this week, this week that marks the one-year anniversary of a nightmare that unfolded on the campus of Saint Stephen’s one year ago this Friday. As I prepare for the service this Friday, workers are moving to punch lists to finish the Memorial Garden and our Memorial Labyrinth project, we have ordered 150 copies of A Light Shines in the Darkness: Choosing Hope after a Mass Shooting for Friday’s event, the beautiful Altar front and stoles woven together from the prayers of our community has been delivered to the church, and we still miss our friends and others lives have added stress and pain due to the events of one year ago. 

There is not a doubt in my mind that the Holy Spirit has been comforting, lifting up, and doing a new thing at Saint Stephen’s. Last Sunday felt like Easter (we did combine the two larger services for the summer), and I don’t think I am alone that there is an excitement every single week that is palpable, new ideas and people creatively living into their call to follow Jesus. I give thanks for this past year and the faithfulness of our community. 

Today’s lesson from Deuteronomy is a reminder that God is a part of it all, the blessings and the curses that are unavoidable… and that the Lord will restore our fortunes and have compassion on us. We see it when we gather together to be the body of Christ and respond to God’s love. May we have the wisdom to not be lost in despair from the curses and hold onto the promise of God's hope or restoration and resurrection. And may we give thanks for each other’s role in helping us to do just that this past year.  

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What blessings are connected to curses for you? 

Daily Challenge:  Thing of something that has gone wrong this week.  Ask yourself what you can learn, do, or change that will be a sign of hope from this wrong. 

Humbling oneself and accepting mercy - June 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Deut. 26:1-11; 2 Cor. 8:16-24; Luke 18:9-14

Today’s Reflection

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’ —Luke 18:9-14

Have you ever caught yourself thinking, “Well, I will never do X.” Or feeling kind of superior that you have managed to avoid certain life experiences, and feeling kind of sorry for those who fell into such pitiable circumstances? In our pride or naivete, we reassure ourselves that we, surely, would never, ever do X. And then, fast forward a few months or years or decades down the road and lo and behold you find yourself in that very set of circumstances you thought you would never, ever be in—be it professionally, personally, emotionally, or all the above.

I first wrote the above paragraph two years ago, in the first week in June 2021. As I read the above words with fresh eyes now, in June 2023, I can remember very clearly what I had in mind when I wrote the generic statement, “I will never do X,” and all the words after it. In my mind, I was reflecting on how I had thought for a long time. “I will never get divorced.” That thought was heavy on my mind, as I was scheduled to meet the following week with a mediator to begin to do just that: get divorced.

This prideful outlook is just the sort of mindset that Jesus is calling out the Pharisees for in today’s passage from Luke 18. These are people who Luke describes as those “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt” (18:9). Jesus, in telling the parable, describes the Pharisee “standing by himself” while he prayed this very self-righteous prayer: “God, I thank you that I am not like other people. … I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (18: 11-12). In this prayer, the Pharisee is telling God that he doesn’t need God’s mercy, because he’s got this whole righteousness thing figured out for himself—unlike all these other sinners! The Pharisee, in his pride, comes to God in a posture of ‘look what I have done for you.’

In contrast, the tax collector is approaching God in a spirit of true humility; he is “standing far off” and cannot even “look up to heaven” because he is so aware of the reality of his own imperfections. The tax collector feels contrite and sorrowful when he reflects on “what he has done and what he has left undone.” Because of this, the tax collector’s posture in approaching God is one that recognizes what God has done and what God will do: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (18:13).

As he concludes his parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, Jesus offers us this powerful antithesis to drive home the message he wants us to take away: “For all who exalt themselves will be humbled but all who humble themselves will be exalted.” Again and again throughout the New Testament, especially in passages in which Jesus in speaking, we hear a message that emphasizes a reversal of the usual power dynamics. The Good News we always hear from Jesus is that the weak become strong, the poor become rich, and those who exalt themselves will be humbled but those who humble themselves will be exalted. I have experienced this reversal deeply and personally over the past two years—the weak becoming strong, the humble being exalted—and I, for one, am grateful that we are loved unconditionally by a God who offers us unending mercy and grace. Thanks be to God.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

What circumstances did you once think you would never allow yourself to fall into, and then later you found yourself in that very situation? Or what did you once think you would never, ever do that you later found yourself doing? What did you learn about yourself—and what you believe about God—through your changed circumstances? How did this reversal of status serve to humble you and make you more compassionate toward others?

Think of the people you know who come across as very humble. Reflect on their lives and how they present themselves both to God and to others. What can you learn from their way of seeing themselves and their role in the lives of others?

Stretch our Hearts - June 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; Deut. 13:1-11; 2 Cor. 7:2-16; Luke 17:20-37

Different cultures have different understandings of beauty and physical appearance. In some cultures, people will deform their bodies to meet societal norms around appearance. I can remember reading old National Geographic magazines growing up and being fascinated by the images of people in Africa and Asia who would elongate their necks or shape other parts of their bodies. In the United States (and places such as Amazon Basin, Kenya, and Thailand) people will stretch their ear lobes to be much larger than normal and adorned with interesting jewelry sometimes creating large holes. 

I’ll admit, this is not what I expected to be writing about for today, but it certainly seems like an entry point to this passage from 2nd Corinthians where Paul writes to his friends in Corinth asking them to make room in their hearts for him.  What would it look like to have to stretch our hearts to have the capacity to care for more and more people? Would it require some kind of exercise or practice or discipline? Is it possible that it’s not possible unless we do something to increase our capacity?

Prayer certainly seems like a practice that might be able to stretch our hearts. I’d suspect engaging in practices that bring us closer to engaging with people’s suffering and deepening our own capacity for compassion would too. And it might be helpful to remember that it doesn’t come naturally, we have to work at it. 

God, stretch our hearts to care about the whole world as you do. Doesn’t seem like a bad thing to pray for at all, and it might be a charitable place to begin to acknowledge it’s not the place where we all begin.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How could you stretch your heart?  What are practices that make you more compassionate? Can the inverse be true too and how might you guard against that?

Increase our Faith (to Forgive) - June 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; Deut. 11:13-19; 2 Cor. 5:11-6:2; Luke 17:1-10

Sports are an interesting commentary on our culture. Despite wearing ugly orange pants on the Sunday following the University of Tennessee’s victory over the University of Alabama Crimson Tide, I actually don’t pay much attention to sports. While that has not always been true, I recently haven’t had the capacity to keep track of the consistently changing landscapes of college athletics, nor the interest or passion. 

However, there has been one sport, and one team in particular that I try to pay attention to and catch games when I can and that is the Memphis Grizzles NBA team. The Grizzles have a superstar in a young 23-year-old named Ja Morant. When he is playing his best, he is easily a top-five player in the NBA and has the ability to change the outcome of the game just by being on the court. Recently he was seen on social media brandishing a firearm which has been met with extraordinary disappointment by the NBA and the city of Memphis, largely because this is the second offense (even though no laws were broken in the action) and an entire community feels let down.

I certainly understand the concern that Morant’s behavior doesn’t reflect the values that the NBA wants to hold up and it has been interesting to watch an entire community turn on the person who was once considered the shining star of the community.  Maybe we put too much pressure on a 23-year-old. 

I am drawn to a connection in our Gospel reading this morning. Jesus is giving instructions on forgiveness even if someone sins against you “seven times a day.” The passage that follows is the apostles asking the Lord to increase their faith. The Lord replies with the beautiful metaphor of a mustard seed: “If you just had the faith of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea’, and it would obey you.” We often don’t connect the two passages, but when we read them together, the faith comment makes more sense. It takes faith to believe in the power of forgiveness. It’s not natural. It doesn’t feel like it makes a difference, and it is certainly not a condition of our culture. But a little faith can move mountains, or at the very least, uproot a mulberry tree.

Forgiveness is tough. And maybe the disciples' prayer can be our own: Increase our faith, specifically with the capacity of forgiveness to heal this world and restore our relationships with each. At the very least, I pray it makes watching basketball a little more enjoyable this upcoming season.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: How easy is it for you to forgive? What is the role that faith plays in your forgiveness? 

Daily Challenge: Here is a list of some exercises to help improve your capacity for forgiveness.

'Treasure in clay jars' - June 2

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; Deut. 5:1-22; 2 Cor. 4:1-12; Luke 16:10-17(18)

Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. … For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.

–2 Corinthians 4: 1, 6-7

You may have heard of the Templeton Prize. It’s one of those prestigious awards I had heard of, and knew it was named for the English investor and philanthropist John Templeton, but beyond that, I didn’t have an understanding of what the Templeton Prize is meant to recognize. But, as I read the interview, I was curious and did some extra reading to learn that the Templeton Prize was established to “honor individuals whose exemplary achievements advance… harnessing the power of the sciences to explore the deepest questions of the universe and humankind’s place and purpose within it.” The focus on recognizing the blending of the scientific with the spiritual is more recent, within just the past several years, but since its establishment in 1973, the Templeton Prize has been awarded to 48 individuals whose work has changed the world and our understanding of our place in it.

Of those 48 Templeton laureates, only four have been women—including the very first laureate, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and 2021's laureate, primatologist and conservationist Dr. Jane Goodall. Now, I am not familiar with the names and accomplishments of many of the other winners, but what strikes me as a common thread between Mother Teresa and Jane Goodall is that both broke new ground and changed the world because of their willingness to see the world and its inhabitants from a different perspective and to live alongside those whom they were supporting or studying in a true spirit of love and humility.

As Heather Templeton Dill, granddaughter of John Templeton, said of Goodall as she was awarded the prize, “Her discoveries have profoundly altered the world’s view of animal intelligence and enriched our understanding of humanity in a way that is both humbling and exalting.” As a 26-year-old who hadn’t yet earned her first college degree, Goodall went to live in Tanzania to learn more about chimpanzees. Up to that point, scientists believed that only humans were capable of using tools. But Goodall, because of her open mind and heart, was able to see something new: that chimpanzees, too, are tool-users. And when she went on pursue her Ph.D. at Cambridge, she continued to break the established ways of studying animals by insisting on identifying the primates she studied with human-like names (first name and last name) and by viewing them through the lens of believing that humans are no better than any other part of nature, our fellow primates included. What makes her approach to studying primates, and all of the natural world, distinctive and groundbreaking is that her perspective is grounded in humility and empathy:

Well, when I got to university I was told I’d done everything wrong. I shouldn’t have given the chimps names; it was scientific to number them. I couldn’t talk about them having personalities, minds and emotions. Those were unique to us. I was actually taught in the early 1960s, that the difference between us and animals was one of kind. We were elevated onto a pinnacle, separate from all the others. But my dog as a child had already taught me that wasn’t true. You can’t share your life in a meaningful way with a dog, a cat, a guinea pig, a rabbit, a horse, a bird, a pig and not know that, of course, we’re not the only beings with personalities, minds and emotions.

I was also told by these same professors that to be a good scientist you have to be objective. Therefore you cannot have empathy with what you’re studying. That is so wrong. It’s having empathy with what you’re studying that gives you those “aha” moments — “Yes, I think I know why he or she is doing that.” Then you can put on the scientific hat, which I learned at Cambridge, which I love, and say, “Let me prove that my intuition is right or not.”

All that Jane Goodall and Mother Teresa accomplished was not for their own sake or glory, but to point others toward something larger than any of us—reminding us that anything worthwhile begins by grounding oneself in a place of humility and empathy. When I reflect on the lives of these two extraordinary women, I am struck by how they embody the passage we read today in Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. In each of their lives is a treasure of insight and concern for the welfare of others, a treasure held in the clay jars of their humility-soaked, other-oriented lives.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

Recall a time when you were especially aware that you were being treated as a whole person with a name and not just a number—and recall a time when you felt the reverse. How does being treated with the dignity of being called by name and treated empathy change your sense of self and your place in this world?

Read the full interview with Jane Goodall by the Religion News Service to learn more of how her views on the spiritual and the sacred have informed her approach to science and conservation.

Cultural Expectations - May 31

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; Deut. 4:25-31; 2 Cor. 1:23-2:17; Luke 15:1-2,11-32

This past month, I read two very different books side by side that oddly have provided a great insight into my own spiritual life. The first book was our May choice for my reading class and we read “The Way to Love: The Last Meditations of Anthony de Mello.” De Mello was a Jesuit priest from India and psychotherapist who led the Sadhana Institute of Pastoral Counseling in Poona, India. His meditations have been deeply insightful in how our culture conditions us to have certain programming and expectations, and how we can unlearn some of these human habits.

The second book, also probably 20 years old or so, is “Remembering Denny” by Calvin Trillin. Trillim is writing about his college friend from Yale, Denny Hansen, who was also a Rhodes Scholar and had about as much promise as any young person could have. The book is an exploration of the pressure of that promise and a trying to understand why Hansen didn’t live the life everyone expected for him. It’s a beautiful and rather sad memoir. De Mello’s work is similar as his spiritual reflections explore how we are culturally conditioned to have expectations and how that often leads us to become dependent upon meeting those expectations. I’m struck by both accounts and how they create an interesting dialogue between two extremes.  

In our Gospel appointed for today, we have the story of the prodigal son which is actually a story about two sons – both who have different expectations for what it means to live. One stays home and works hard to please his father, and the other takes his inheritance and squanders it, a right he believed he had. 

What strikes me this morning is that both sons miss the point of living. One has a work ethic and an idea that his loyalty and faithfulness will merit more love from his father. The other believes he can live as he wants and squanders away his life. I have often found that the real character to emulate in this narrative is the father whose life isn’t wrapped up in his work and identity but lives a life of giving selflessly to those he loves. He isn’t worried about end results or even fairness, but about the tender care and compassion he can offer.

How often do we too focus on the wrong things or get wrapped up on the wrong side of a story? How often are we too focused on our identity or vocation or what we have accumulated, when all that really matters is how we share this one precious and sacred life with others? 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What cultural conditioning have you received? What do you believe you are supposed to do with your life to meet the expectations of others? Or are these conditions helpful or harmful? 

Action and contemplation - May 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Ezek. 34:17-31; Heb. 8:1-13; Luke 10:38-42

Today’s Reflection

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’  —Luke 10:38-42

It’s a scene that may seem familiar to many of you: Someone arrives, perhaps unexpectedly perhaps not, at your home for dinner. I can recall times when we have had friends or family over for dinner, scurrying around, distracted by my many tasks, like Luke tells us that Martha was, so that my home would be clean and comfortable, and the meal would be warm and delicious for our special guests.

It’s interesting to notice the placement of the story of Jesus’ visit with Martha and Mary in the context of Luke chapter 10. Earlier in Luke 10, we hear Jesus telling the story of the Good Samaritan to explain what it means to love God and to love your neighbor as yourself. And as we continue on to Luke chapter 11, we’ll hear about how Jesus taught his friends to pray—what we know now as the Lord’s Prayer. Therefore, today’s account of Martha and Mary functions as a hinge between a story about loving God through action, as the Good Samaritan did, and a story about loving God through through prayer. This placement of the story of Martha and Mary seems appropriate because theirs is the story about the tension between the need, on the one hand, to be up and doing, as Martha was, by serving with our deeds, and the need, on the other hand, to be listening to what God is trying to teach us, as Mary was by sitting as Jesus’ feet. In this story, Jesus makes it clear that “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

While in the story of Martha and Mary we hear Jesus prioritizing the importance of stopping our frenetic busy-ness so that we can better listen to him and focus on what he is saying to us, if we think back to the previous story of the Good Samaritan, we hear Jesus in that parable prioritizing action. Oftentimes in Christian discourse we hear about this debate between action and contemplation, which should we be prioritizing in our daily lives as Christ followers? The message we are getting if we look at all three of these passages in Luke together—the Good Samaritan, Martha and Mary, and the Lord’s Prayer—is that we should be both people of action and people of contemplation.

In this brief encounter with Martha and Mary, we see glimpses of the two sides of a balanced life of servant leadership. As 17th century mystic St. Teresa of Avila put it, “Both Martha and Mary must entertain our Lord and keep Him as their Guest, nor must they be so inhospitable as to offer Him no food. How can Mary do this while she sits at His feet, if her sister does not help her.” Likewise, as St. Aelred of Rievaulx, abbot of a Cistercian monastery in Yorkshire observed in a sermon to his brother monks: “By no means should you neglect Mary for the sake of Martha, nor again Martha for the sake of Mary. For, if you neglect Martha, who will feed Jesus? If you neglect Mary, what benefit will it be to you that Jesus entered your house since you will have tasted nothing of his sweetness? Realize, brothers, that never in this life should these two women be separated.”

While over the years many readers of this passage have argued for the superiority of Martha’s action or the superiority of Mary’s contemplation, in fact, what is needful is to find a unity or a balance between action and contemplation. If we are to follow Christ, then we must continually look back to his example of a life that balances action and contemplation.

We never hear what happened after Jesus told Martha that Mary had chosen the better part. It seems likely that, upon hearing Jesus’ response, Martha had a moment of clarity and took a break to listen and learn at Jesus’ feet. Maybe Martha sat down, alongside her sister Mary to listen. Or perhaps Mary stood up and said to Martha, “Sister, you take my place at Jesus’ feet, I will get up to attend to the needs of our guests.”

May we carry the story of Martha and Mary with us as we each day we commit ourselves anew to follow Christ’s example of a life that balances contemplation with action, as well to a life in which we commit to being in partnership with our fellow Christ followers as give each other the mutual support to live lives of both contemplation and action.

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When you hear the story of Mary and Martha, do you find yourself identifying more with Mary or more with Martha? How do you (or could you) blend elements of both action and contemplation within your personal spiritual practices?

God is in Traffic on 280 – May 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144 
Ezek. 11:14-25; Heb. 7:1-17; Luke 10:17-24

I had an exchange yesterday morning that I think can be described as holy. A white SUV merged in front of me onto Highway 280, and the driver reminded me of a parishioner from Saint Stephen’s. At that moment, I decided to call his wife to check on their family, even though I thought she might be at work. The woman answered the phone. She told me she was at the hospital with her husband. He had a medical event the evening before and was now being prepared for surgery. She asked if I had heard from a church staff member…and I told her of my odd traffic experience. We were both wowed by God in that moment, as our eyes were opened to the Lord’s care and faithfulness.

In Luke’s gospel for this morning, the Lord has appointed seventy faithful people to go out in pairs on mission to share the peace of God. Jesus gives them directions about what to bring and how to conduct themselves. When welcomed in a community, they are to share table fellowship and build relationships with the people. They are to cure the sick and say to them, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” When rejected, the disciples are to proclaim widely in the streets, “Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.”

This bunch of faith-filled people swirl back into town after an undisclosed amount of time, joyous from their evangelistic endeavors. Practically swooning, they say to Jesus, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” The 35 pairs are fired up by doing ministry. I can imagine their whoops and feel the fervor as they share their stories.

Jesus makes sure that they remember the purpose of their mission – which is heavenly permanence, rather than seeing the success of their prayerful actions. He says, “See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Then, Jesus prays in the Holy Spirit words of thanks to God. He says thank you to the Lord of heaven and earth for the gift of revelation…hiding knowledge from some and revealing it to others. Jesus prays words of gratitude for divine revelation: “All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

In ministry, whether as ordained clergy or empowered laity, we do not always know at what or whom we are looking. Our eyes are not always opened to those holy WOW! moments of healing and wholeness. While it would be great if the demons would submit to our prayers as they did to the 70 missioners of Jesus, sometimes we meet people in the messy middle. The pain continues. The anguish and fear refuse to recede. The abuse and hardship get worse. The disease spreads.

Sometimes, the WOW comes when we realize God puts us in just the right spot, or God uses our voice just when someone needs it. For those moments, let us say, “Thanks be to God!”

-- Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection: When have you felt God opening your eyes to understand more deeply or see more clearly? How do you pray for this to happen more intentionally?

Daily Challenge: This was last week's challenge...and it applies to today, too. Prayer continues to be a living discipline, and the results are sometimes a mixed bag. Sit with this prayer from St. Francis de Sales today.

Is it ok to look back? - May 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; Ezek. 4:1-17; Heb. 6:1-12; Luke 9:51-62

Today’s Gospel feels odd after a weekend celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of this church. We have spent a weekend remembering the past and being inspired by the past. We even had a play written about it that premiered on Friday night! Is this nostalgia? Is it helpful? It has certainly helped us all appreciate what a gift it is to be in community, to treasure what and who is special and precious in our lives. And I would like to believe that is a good thing, but it is only good if it propels more deeply into faithful living for the future. 

Today’s Gospel has some of the odder sayings from Jesus. We have the passage about foxes and birds and how the Son of Man has no place to rest. Jesus encounters a person on the road who feels compelled to follow Jesus. His father has recently died, and he is asking if he can first bury his father. Another person wants to go say farewell to the people at home and in both instances Jesus’ instructions are clear: do not turn back but full steam ahead. Is it wrong to bury our loved ones?

I do not find Jesus’ words particularly comforting, nor are they pastoral, or even practical. Sometimes we have to deal with the past. And one could argue, it’s my vocation to bury people. And when we bury people, we proclaim Christ’s reign and God’s victory over death and the Kingdom of God has drawn a little closer. Jesus’ words seem harsh. 

And yet – God is always beckoning us into a future. In the words of one of our recent preachers, Sam Wells, “A future that is bigger than the past.” Looking back is only helpful if it calls us into a deeper and more faithful hope for the future. I wonder if Jesus is concerned that the two people he encounters on his journey might get stuck in their past if they don’t move forward.

I loved looking back this past weekend. It was both a gift and an inspiration. But the future is what lies ahead. If we spend too much time only focusing on the past we might forget what is before us – a gift – a way of being in relationship with God and there is no better time than now to follow our Lord and Savior. 

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When you think of your faith, do you think more of the past or the future?  What are most hopeful for in the next few years, in the next decade, in the life to come?

Daily Challenge:  Write a letter to your future self about who you hope you in one year.  If you have an email program that schedules emails, schedule it to go out in one year’s time.