Hopkins, in December

Gerard Manley Hopkins, an English poet, Roman Catholic convert, and priest (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I haven't been to church in 3 weeks.  We were away, then someone was sick, then I slept in … but those are never the real reasons.  The real reasons are always some combination of feeling under stress; overwhelmed; as if going to church is yet another thing I have to do, on top of every single other thing I'm supposed to do, and I am sick of doing everything I'm supposed to do and never ever doing anything I want to do, so I'm not going to church, so there.

I feel like this particularly often at this time of year, when it feels as if someone's pulled a plug out of the bottom of the world somewhere, and all the light is draining out.  All I want to do is huddle at home and eat toasted bagels.  It never crosses my mind when I get like this that going to church always makes me feel better.

It's no coincidence that I haven't been praying or meditating at all lately either. I keep track with a little iPhone app that shows red or green depending on whether I did either that day, and the last few weeks are an unbroken streak of red. Meditation, prayer, reading something inspirational, all give me a broader perspective and get me out of my rut.  Anything that stops me from grumbling for five minutes will do that.  But when I'm in this mood I resist all those things, either because I forget they make me feel better or - more likely - because I know that, and I don't want to feel better.  I want to hang on tight to the comfort of my crankiness, and I resist anything that might pry me loose.

But this morning for some reason I woke up early enough that there was actually time to meditate.  I haven't visited http://sacredspace.ie, the Irish Jesuit daily prayer website, for ages, but I remembered that I always liked it, and decided to try it again. Once there I found it difficult to get into the mood to meditate on the Scripture reading today, it's been so long since I've tried, and clicked the link labelled "Guide" for help.

There were several different exercises they recommended to help one focus.  I clicked, curious, on the one labelled "God's Grandeur", and found the Gerard Manley Hopkins poem:

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

And though the last lights off the black West went

Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs -

Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

And even then, faced with the brilliance of this amazing poem, I struggled, asking myself, well, sure, but maybe I'm just affected by this poem because I've been taught to think the same thing Hopkins was taught to think, and maybe we're just both of us encouraging a mutual illusion and … but even in my present cranky mood, I can tell my objections are nonsense.

Even in my present mood I can tell that I love this poem because I see what Hopkins sees; and maybe it's because I've been taught to and Hopkins has been taught to, but does that matter?  It doesn't matter why we think this.  All that matters is whether it's true.

And I think it's true.  The Holy Ghost bends over our world, warm breast and bright wings, and even in this dark season, nothing escapes her loving gaze. So, thank you, Hopkins; and thank you, Irish Jesuits; and thank you, whoever woke me up this morning in time to meditate.

And thank you, Holy Spirit, for your loving care.

p.s. Years of hanging out with academics makes me add: of course it does matter why we think what we do, because (among other things) that's one of the clues as to whether or not what we think is true.  And one of the reasons I think I 'see what Hopkins sees' is because the poem is so brilliant, since that also makes it very persuasive.  Even a convinced atheist, on reading "God's Grandeur", would likely spend half an hour contemplating conversion before shaking off the mood. So it is unfair to use my assent to Hopkins' vision as evidence for the existence of God, when I may simply have been persuaded by Hopkins' poetry.

That doesn't mean he's wrong, though.

Church, Why Bother? (Hanna Lyle)

Welcome, welcome! I actually wrote this post up a while ago, on my smart phone, and then it decided to delete itself. Smart phone my donkey.

 Anyways, let’s envision it’s a Sunday morning. Hymns have been… Well they’ve been. The sermon just didn’t resonate, and the cookies, the ones left over after the hoard of famished seven year olds were done pilfering, were… flax bran raisin. Or cardboard. You’re not quite sure. And oh yes, you’re thirteen. So in your thirteen-year-old wisdom you come marching up to me, your youth leader, and announce that you’re just not sure why you even come to church.

Now, presuming that I am having a particularly enlightened morning, and managed to win the race against the seven year olds, here is the answer I would give you:

Church is not about “Church”. It’s about you and me. It is about having a home, a family and a community. Let me take you back to when I myself was thirteen. The first year I went to Naramata. I was there for four days and in those four days grew up about four years. I learned what it meant to be unconditionally accepted, to laugh freely and not in turn be laughed at. To exist in intentional community. Then, then we would fast forward to age fourteen, finally old enough to participate in the crew program at Camp Pringle. Learning to lead and to teach, to be validated and to validate, to build friendships that are still going strong today. An extra strong dose of intentional community.

Then I’d tell you about the tough stuff. As you looked up at me, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, I would tell you about age nineteen. Nineteen, when death introduced herself to me, and began a cascade of toils and trials that systematically mangled my soul. When for a few months, life became a shadow. And yet through it all, never have I come closer to my creator, felt such powerful community – absolute grace.

I’d tell these things to you, my little cauliflower, because they were all experiences that were deeply intertwined with the church and my own faith. They all shaped who I am now.

Okay, let’s ground this idea in theology. The B-book. La Biblia. Let’s go back about, oh, 1982 years or so, to when there was a dude going around creating a bit of havoc in the Roman empire. When asked “Teacher, what is the greatest commandment in the law?” He did not respond “Go to church every single Sunday, try to stay awake, and learn something” he said “love the lord your god with all your heart and soul and mind… and love your neighbour as yourself”. (It’s probably frowned upon to edit quotes from the bible, but hey, I’m not the first…). Please note the words ‘love your neighbour’. Now, I understand these words to mean, ahem, to build community. To show others true, deep, and complete love.

So. When you ask me, “Church, why bother?”, and I tell you all of this, what I want you to take away is the power of the United Church, the power of this awesome community that can be found in all of its ministries, from pews to canoes. And I’d remind you that it’s a package deal - if the buck stops with you, what about that little boy who’s never felt like he’s belonged? That little girl who desperately needs acceptance? Just sayin’.

Until we meet again, I'll bring the paragraphs, you bring the licorice,

- Hanna

Real Things

Cover of Brave New World

My daughter was telling me about "Brave New World", which she had just read, as I drove her to choir practice this morning.  The book describes a world in which humans have been conditioned (among other things) never to feel passion or pain, and to mask any feeling of unhappiness with the happy-drug 'soma'.

An unconditioned "savage", John, who visits the civilization, points out to a World Controller that this avoidance, by conditioning and drug use, denies people access to any spiritual experience, or any contact with God.  Well, yes, says the Controller; we've chosen comfort over those things.

John answers,"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin."

"In fact," the Controller replies, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy", and John agrees.

So I've been thinking about this.  Is it true that God is most accessible, most present to us, when we're miserable?

I remember years ago a very devout friend of mine telling me about the time his then-fiancée had told him she didn't want to marry him after all, and had returned his ring.  He was devastated, and although he rarely drank, that night he went out and got very drunk.  The next morning he had to drive back to his home city, feeling very sick indeed, and had finally had to stop in a roadside café to be wretchedly, incapacitatingly ill in the public rest room. But what he really remembered, he said, was that the whole time he was in the rest room, too weak even to stand without support, he had never felt God so close, all around him, holding him in his grief; he had never felt so sure he was truly loved.  It was an odd time for a beatific vision, he said, but he welcomed it.

It's true that when we are desperately unhappy we can sometimes see, feel, God in ways we usually don't.   Is pain, misery, a necessary part of being able to feel the presence of God? That's what Brave New World seems to suggest.

I am no expert but I don't think so. I think what we really need, to experience God, is to to be open to what's real; not to mask our perceptions with - other stuff.  Soma.  Internet surfing. Food as a distraction instead of a need or even a pleasure. Whatever it is we use to draw ourselves away from our actual perceptions, from what we actually see and hear and feel.  Maybe we notice God more when we're miserable, because misery has a way of getting our attention even when we try to avoid it; it overwrites our distractions and insists, FEEL THIS.  But I don't think it's misery that's necessary; I think what's needed is just paying attention to what's really there.

I think we make it possible for ourselves to feel and see the presence of God whenever we pay attention to real things; our real feelings, our real experiences.  Because God is real and is part of all of this.

The way God was part of driving my daughter to school, half-asleep in the pre-dawn darkness, talking about Brave New World. Compared to still being peacefully asleep in bed it wasn't comfortable; but it was a pleasure, and it was real.

Bible Study - Matthew 6 (Keith Howard)

Read: Matthew 6: 19-21, 24-33

As Gail Miller suggests read the text and sit with it for a while. After you have identified some of the words and images that seem to strike a chord then you might be interested to note:

Treasure – anyone thinking “Pirates?” Once you have Johnny Depp out of your mind the word treasure implies more than just a stack of cash. It implies something that will go towards meeting a deep desire of the heart.

The Aramaic word for “mammon” doesn't simply mean cold-hard-cash or wealth, it

comes from a Hebrew word meaning "that in which we trust."  When Jesus says, "You cannot serve God and mammon" (Mt. 6:24), he's unmasking the remarkable and powerful influence of something (i.e., money and wealth) that we typically see as "neutral and [something that becomes] a problem only if people  thought about it inordinately or acted to gain it immorally." (http://www.nwumf.org/images/radical_gratitude/year_a/radical_gratitude_may1908.pdf)

3. “do not worry” – really?

David Lose says:

we live in an incredibly anxious culture. The evening news certainly depends upon worries at home and abroad to attract viewers. Commercials are constantly inviting us to worry about one more thing -- usually about ourselves! -- … home security signs in their front lawns. … : everywhere you turn, everywhere you look, there are visible reminders of just how much there is to worry about.

http://www.workingpreacher.org/dear_wp.aspx?article_id=458

More about money from David Lose:

“notice that Jesus doesn't say money is evil, or even bad, just that it makes a poor master. Actually, the word in Greek is kurios, often translated "lord." The lord is the one who demands and deserves your loyalty, allegiance, and worship. (Which, by the way, explains the courageous and treasonous nature of the earliest Christian confession, "Christ is Lord" in a world where the more expected confession was, "Caesar is Lord.")

I wonder about the relation of this passage to a perspective on the world that is dominated by a deep sense of there not being enough. Scarcity creates fear, and fear creates devotion to those who will protect you. Abundance, on the other hand, produces freedom.

The world Jesus invites us into: a world of abundance, generosity, and new life. But it is also a world of fragility, trust, and vulnerability.

Once we believe that money can satisfy our deepest needs, then we suddenly discover that we never have enough. In a world of scarcity, there is simply never enough.

Questions to Ponder

• Do you have a treasure box? If you do – or wish you did – what is/would be in it? What do your treasures tell you about the deep desire of your heart"
• That in which we trust” – this can be a hard phrase because once we get past saying what we know the right answer should be we realize that, actually, we trust in very many things, depending upon circumstance. One of the gifts of disaster planning is that it can force us to think about what or who we trust to “get us through.” Perhaps a more helpful question is: with whom am I entrusting what? The answer might vary depending upon whether we are holding in our heart our children, our spouse, our health, our car.
• If you worry, what ramps up the intensity of your worrying? What calms you?
• One of the key differences between the world view of baby boomers and those of WWII and the Depression relates to their early expectations of what the world might provide. Boomers grew up with affluence and, most, in some part of their being expect life to yield this. Other generations know in their bones that circumstances can turn in a moment and so feel a deep need to protect against scarcity.  Where do you fit?

Lectio Divina (Rev. Gail Miller)

Isn't this just a great way to read the bible?  Well . . .  maybe.  In conversations here and there I am hearing that people feel they  "aren't doing it right"  . . .  in all kinds of ways.   Becoming still and quiet means suddenly you are napping!  You can't slow down enough to let any word really sink in!  Lectio divina as a practice not only gives us opportunity to read the bible in a different way but gives us an awareness of what it means to slow down, stop, simply be.   The practice creates space for us to notice that we are tired or distracted or  . . .  There is great value in this insight alone.

In my mind, the most important thing about lectio divina is not being still and quiet - that is simply a way to prepare ourselves for the task, for a different conversation  . . . a conversation with an ancient text that is "alive" with the Spirit.  What is important about lectio divina is that it teaches us to be in relationship with the Word.  We are not reading for intellectual understanding as we would most other things we read.  We are reading for encounter, embrace, relationship, intimacy.  Lectio divina isn't reading.  It is a conversation, an engagement,  with the Holy One.

So whatever way you do it  . . . is the right way.

At least that is what I tell myself when I awake from my lectio divina induced nap feeling strangely refreshed.

How do I do this Thing Called Christian? (Hanna Lyle)

Well hello there and welcome to my inaugural blog post! I think I'll take this first post to expand a bit more on what this blog is all about. It started back in May, although perhaps it really started almost a year before hand, but we'll leave that be. It started because a wonderful person from the church I attend, as the youth leader no less, asked me about my confirmation. Erm, awkward - I was never confirmed. I've pondered the why's and the why not's of this, but alas that's a subject also best left untouched, for now.

So. My flirtation with the idea of confirmation culminated in a meeting this summer with the gracious Gaye Sharpe. There it was decided that I, being a fledgling (wannabe?) writer, should get my blog on and write. And so here we are, me, the writer, exploring, imploring, perhaps even destroying and rebuilding, and you, the reader, along for the ride. You may be a member of my own community since birth, or perhaps a perfect stranger, but fundamentally, you are a participant in this adventure.

So Hanna, what exactly will you be talking about? I'm glad you asked. We'll start with "Church, Why Bother?". As a youth group leader I feel the very baseline question of why one should even cast the covers aside before 10:00 am on Sunday morning needs to be relevantly addressed. From there, we'll touch on scripture, experience, and tradition through a myriad of rivetingly delicious topics.

Until we meet again,

- Hanna

The Widow's Offering (Rev. Gail Miller)

Jesus is in Jerusalem.  He has made his entry atop a colt, greeted by shouts of Hosanna.  While Jesus and his disciples continue to make forays out of the city to Bethany, his focus now is Jerusalem and the action begins to intensify.  We are given story after story of Jesus engaging with those who hold power and authority.  There are conversations and questions from the Herodians, the Pharisees, the Sadducees.  Very soon the story will turn toward the cross.  It is here that Mark places his story about the widow and her offering.

http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=219397771

Mark's gospel is always a challenge for me because there isn't a lot to chew on.  I don't find him to be much of a story teller.  He does not use dramatic tension.  He is not given to creative embellishment.  Nothing wrong with that. But I tend to "feel" my way into bible study.   What a story feels like is important to me.  My heart looks for an energetic hook.  Then later my head joins the conversation.


So let us gather . . . on the rough stone steps of the temple court, amid the noise of the crowd.  It is chaotic. Your eyes dart around taking in the sights and the sounds.  Each person you see holds a story  . . . any of which you could just dive into.  Which one catches your attention?  Is it the teacher of the law, dressed in long flowing robes walking as one with authority, across the court?  Is it the one dressed in fine linens who has just placed a  large sum of money into the temple treasury . . . coins glinting in the sunlight?  Is it the wild looking one over in the corner with the dust of the road still on him?  Yeah, he has a magnetism.  It is hard to peel your eyes off of him.  Is it the group of equally wild and dusty ones gathered around him  that catch your eye?  Or is it her?  Over there  . . . the burdened one . . . a woman . . . alone . . . no fine linens  . . . only two very small and dull coins.  She is reaching out now and dropping them into the treasury.


It happens in slow motion . . . yet so quickly you wonder if any one other than Jesus even noticed. What do you notice?  How does your heart make sense of this?  What draws you in? And how does it feel?


Lectio Divina
Those who walk a contemplative path or tend toward the mystical may be familiar with the notion that our ancient text is alive.  Rather than mere ink and paper, more than the sum total of its interpretive history,  it is actually the sacred presence of Christ.   Christ living in and living as the Word.  As we engage in study and reflection of the biblical text we are hosting a holy guest.  "In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God."  (John 1)

The following is a method for doing a sacred reading (lectio divina) of the text.  You will need to take 15 minutes or more if you have time!

• Take a few minutes to become still and quiet.
• Invite the Spirit to be present.  Ask for an experience of God.
• Read the passage out loud and very slowly.
• Read the passage through a second time, but this time pause on any word that catches your attention and slowly repeat that word, until it feels like it is time to move on.  This may be as far as you get in the passage.  The intention is not to finish the passage as much as to listen for what God is saying to you.
• When you have taken whatever time you need, give thanks and take a "Word"  - a word or a short phrase -  and let the presence of Jesus Christ living in that Word be your companion, a gentle teacher revealing a deeper wisdom.

Bible Study - Ruth 1 (Keith Howard)

Ruth 1:1-18

The story of Ruth is not a warm fuzzy story about two girlfriends on a road trip. It is a story that begins in dislocation and death. As a political piece it is a powerful counter-story to the reforms of Ezra and Nehemiah whose strategy for the re-establishment of the Temple and the people was to “get back to the fundamentals.” One human implication of this was that all foreign wives – like Ruth – were banished from the country. Against this “keep on message” story of purification and focus the tale of Ruth and Naomi shows a God quite capable of working outside the lines.

Through Ruth the arc of Naomi’s story moves from despair and death to hope and new life until, if we sneak a peek far ahead to the Gospel of Matthew, Ruth is listed as a foremother of Jesus, the great- grandmother of King David. Now that’s a reversal of type, a transformation of story.  For Ruth was from the Moabites, a people usually portrayed as outside any sphere of God, loose in sexual and religious morality. They did, using a phrase from Judges, “what was right in their own eyes.”  (almost a Baby Boomer ethic!) A foreigner, an unwelcome alien, becomes a vehicle of salvation not only for Naomi but for the nation. That kind of thinking is almost Biblical!

The tale reeks with humanity. Naomi, after the deaths of her husband and sons, names herself as a bitter person. Life had not turned out as she hoped. Her husband and she had been forced to leave Bethlehem because of famine and then, after having endured the battles of all immigrants, the family disintegrates in the new land, and she feels forced to make her way back home, uncertain of what she will find there.  Wow! That’s an uncertain future at a time when all resources and energy feels depleted.

Questions to Ponder

1. Naomi and Ruth found themselves on the edge, without power, influence or resource. Has there been a time in your life where you have felt similar things? Did you feel alone during those times – aka Naomi – or did support come from elsewhere?

2. One of the key turning points of the story is Ruth’s profession of faithfulness and loyalty to Naomi. Have there been times in your life when the faithfulness and loyalty of some one or group has tipped the balance for you?

3. God does not appear as a front and center player in the story. We are left to infer God’s preferences and movement. Have you found that God has often been more visible in your life when you look in the rear view mirror or have you sometimes been aware right away?

Bible Study - Mark 10:46-52 (Keith Howard)

Mark 10:46-52 - Bartimaeus

This story is a bookend to another story in which blindness figures prominently - Mark 8:22-26. In fact blindness is one of the powerful themes which runs through the Gospel of Mark (reread chapters 8, 9 and 10 quickly).
There are some differences to the Bartimaeus story: With Bartimaeus Jesus speaks, earlier he spits!; earlier the crowds bring the blind man, now the crowds try to shut Bartimaeus down; and in this story Bartimaeus ends up as a follower of Jesus.

Big question - who would you like to be in the story: blind man, Jesus or the crowd? More soberly - to whom do you feel the closest affinity: the blind man, Jesus or the crowd? (You won’t have to turn in your answers!)

The scene takes place in Jericho. (This is one of the places we hope to visit as part of the Oak Bay United Church Holy Land Tour next October 2013).
Note the name Bartimaeus calls out - “Son of David.” This is the first time this particular title is used for Jesus in the Gospel. It is significant because here Bartimaeus calls out a name often associated with the coming Messiah, the Saviour who comes from the line of David. This means that he is “recognizing” Jesus as the Messiah, the one who was to bring massive social and political change so that the poor would be fed, the lame healed and the blind given care so they could see. This calling out thus carries a social and political dimension and moves the story from one of person - to - person compassion to social upheaval/change. There are echoes here of the Palm Sunday expectation.

The question Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” carries echoes of his conversation with James and John, who wanted to be seated on his right and left in the new world of the Messiah (Mark 10:35-45). The answer from Bartimaeus comes not out of a position of privilege or access but out of a physical need that, in his time, would have led to exclusion and powerlessness, aka he was a beggar!

In response to the realization that Jesus was calling for him, Bartimaeus throws off his cloak and leaps up. As Lincoln Gallaway observes, “In his act of throwing off his cloak, we see the image of one who leaves his former life behind.” We are accustomed to Thrift Stores, Winners and WalMart and so tend to forget that the cloak, for a poor beggar, represents warmth, possessions and potential security. Do you think there is any significance to the fact that the story mentions his leaving those behind? It remains a powerful image of renunciation and dramatic change that often occurs when people get (too) close to Jesus.

Questions to Ponder

1. The role of the crowd is disquieting in part because, in the original context, listeners to the story - especially the young church - would have seen themselves as part of the crowd that surrounded Jesus, eager for his words. In our time, many of those outside who want to get closer to Jesus see the current form of organized religion as the crowd, the ones who shush them, an obstacle to drawing closer. Have there been instances where you have shared that experience? Have there been times when you have had the opposite experience?
   
2. The naming of Jesus is an important clue in reading Gospel stories. Many names were given him; many of which pass us by because we don’t know the expectations behind the name. What is your favourite name for Jesus? Is that the name you would use to introduce him to others?
   
3. The question Jesus puts to Bartimaeus remains powerful for us as a congregation and for us as disciples. “What do you want me to do for you?” How do you think we are answering that question now as a congregation? If it was only between you and Jesus What is it that you really want Jesus to do for you?

Happy Birthday, Eliot! (Kate Soles)

First smile, first stroller ride, first full night’s sleep. At times, my first two years as a parent have felt like one giant unfolding checklist, a multitude of milestones to witness, record on camera and post on Facebook.

As soon as Jean and I brought Eliot home from the hospital, we began to encourage his cognitive and physical development. We read him countless books, played with interactive toys and diligently counted his minutes of tummy time until he reached the daily recommendation. I never had a strict agenda by which to measure his advancement, never thought I would feel like a failure if he didn’t roll over my four months. As Eliot grew and thrived, I gained confidence that he would progress healthily at his own pace. I learned to ignore the sting of seemingly innocent questions from friends, acquaintances and even strangers: “has he taken his first steps yet? Uttered his first word? Waved his first bye-bye?”

Eliot has become an entirely different being from the infant I rocked in the halls of VGH two years ago. And, in many ways, I too feel like a different being; I have grown and changed because of what my son has taught me.

In parenthood, I have learned about patience, how to endure the things I cannot control and respond to mistakes with gentleness. I have learned about flexibility, how to adapt to life’s fluctuations and see opportunity in the unexpected. Most profoundly, I have learned about love, the irresistible affection for a tiny, helpless person. Such love has the power to heal, to foster self-improvement and to inspire kindness and commitment.

Happy Birthday, Eliot; you are more loved than you could possibly know.

I love so much of C.S. Lewis, but my word, he had problems with women

Cover of The Screwtape Letters

Just finished rereading The Screwtape Letters. I enjoy so much of that book so very much. It's a shame C. S. Lewis really seemed to have trouble getting his head around the idea of women as people. He was okay with courageous schoolgirls, who seem to have been essentially just like boys to him, but he couldn't seem to get past puberty, when women changed into The Other. And complicating all this, I think, was his deep uneasiness over all things sexual.

The final letter, which he intends as the triumphant peroration of the entire book, is desperately marred for me by the analogy he uses to describe his hero's feelings on finally reaching heaven. Lewis/Screwtape says that all the temptations to which our hero had formerly been subject would now seem "as the half nauseous attractions of a raddled harlot would seem to a man who hears that his true beloved whom he has loved all his life and whom he had believed to be dead is alive and even now at his door."

Even the first time I read this, many years ago, I identified with the poor nauseating raddled harlot. I still do. The poor girl. How do we know how she felt? Maybe she loved the hero. Maybe she's heartbroken.  Maybe she didn't see herself as a "raddled harlot" at all. 

But I have this reaction because I see her as a person, and Lewis doesn't. Lewis tried to see women as people; he really did; but when that aim isn't consciously on his mind, he produces passages like this. 

Lewis' uninterrogated assumption is that women are a what, not a who; that we exist as objects that nauseate (but revoltingly attract) men, or else are ideal objects that redeem men; but have no existence on our own account. He finds it hard to rise above that. I will give him credit for often trying to do so. I wish he had succeeded more often. I wish I could enjoy the whole of the Screwtape Letters as much as I enjoy most of it.

And I wish Lewis' opinion of women had not had such an influence on my own opinion of myself, when I was growing up.

Me First Jesus - Continued (Rev. Gail Miller)

I wonder .  . .

I am struck by the outrageous nature of James and John's request - "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you."  Do for me whatever I ask.  It seems to me the kind of request that arises from a sense of either desperation or entitlement.

We have all had those times when we beg God for what we believe we want or need with a promise of life long faithfulness and obedience in return.  I get that.

But is it possible these two disciples are telling Jesus that he owes them something, for their willingness to follow him?

I wonder . . .

why . . . the "Word" that has chosen me this week is this phrase "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory."

Grant us to sit . . . in your glory. The request could be read as a desire to be in the aura of power, perhaps in the hope that their own personal power will be increased. It could be read as a request to be second and third in command, to be at the table where big decisions are made, when Jesus as messiah finally occupies the seat of authority.  This interpretation is supported by some of the biblical commentaries.

But that is not how the "Word" is living in me at the moment.  For it is not power I seek, nor a place at the table where movers and shakers sit.  But something rather opposite; a reprieve, a time out, a good long moment to bask in the light reflecting from the presence of Christ.  Almost like sitting in the sun on a warm summer day.  An opportunity to be present in and to the glory of Christ as it is manifest right now.   Not for power's sake but in order to just "be".

I wonder if this is one of those questions of relationship again.  Keith's sermon last week talked about the rich young man's question as one of relationship - how do I live with the one who is eternal?  In this case - how am I to sit, to be in your glory Jesus?

I wonder  . . .

What is the "Word" that has chosen you this week?  And what do you make of it?

And now to the biblical commentaries - stay tuned!

Mark 10: 35-45 Me First Jesus (Rev. Gail Miller)

Friends


The text for this week is


http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Mark+10:35-45&vnum=yes&version=nrsv


This is my first attempt at the on line bible study.  The format will be a little different than the past few weeks.  There is a particular way that I like to walk with scripture throughout the week as I prepare to integrate and understand the wisdom well enough to proclaim a relevant word on Sunday morning.  Some weeks more than others, I am successful in the proclamation but I find the more interesting part of the journey is living with text all week and letting it shape my perspective.

I like savoring the words and looking around at my life and the world and wondering how that sacred wisdom is being spoken, where I see it in action.  This week I am inviting you to walk and listen with me and look forward to hearing how the wisdom of the text is showing up in your life.

This is a method for doing a sacred reading (lectio divina) of the text.  You will need to take 15 minutes or more if you have time!

1. Take a few minutes to become still and quiet.
2. Invite the Spirit to be present.  Ask for an experience of God.
3. Read the passage out loud and very slowly.
4. Read the passage through a second time, but this time pause on any word that catches your attention and slowly repeat that word, until it feels like it is time to move on.  This may be as far as you get in the passage.  The intention is not to finish the passage as much as to listen for what God is saying to you.
5. When you have taken whatever time you need, give thanks and take a "Word"  - a word or a short phrase -  and throughout the day pause to remind your heart of the "Word."

. . . listen . . . . savor . . . . watch   . . .

Losses and Gains (Kate Soles)

A child whose parents die becomes an orphan. A person whose spouse dies becomes a widow. A parent whose child dies remains nameless; no word exists to capture such an unnatural tragedy. Yet, too often, tragedy strikes. The day before Thanksgiving, my Mom’s neighbours’ six-year-old daughter, Anika, died of complications from Cerebral Palsy. I do not know the depth of their faith but I imagine Anika’s parents currently feel very far from God; I don’t imagine they feel much thankfulness.

What would Jesus say if these parents asked Him how to inherit life with the One who has eternal being? Would He ask them to make sacrifices despite just losing a child? Could He give a valid and comforting explanation of why God cut Anika’s life so short?

Of course, I have no idea what Jesus might say to Anika’s parents. Perhaps, instead of telling them what to give up, He would show them what to gain. I like to think He would help them find strength, the capacity to endure pain with courage and to recognize that suffering can lead to graceful transformation. I like to think He would help them find trust, a surety that a gift or lesson lies in everything that happens. I like to think He would help them find forgiveness, the capability to transform hurt into resolve, to open the door of hope.

Mark 10:17-31 The Rich Young Man (Keith Howard)

The story of the rich young man appears in all three gospels – Matthew 19:16-30 and Luke 18:18-28. The passage is familiar in part because it contains famous phrases like “easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle” and “go sell what you have and give the money to the poor.”

Like many gospel stories, this one begins with a question: “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Eternal life here means life with the One who has eternal being; the reference is not about quantity but quality.

The salutation “Good Teacher,” and the answer of Jesus – “Why do you call me good?” is not about humility but is a device common to students/teachers of Torah. The implication is that the question does not need a new (good) answer from Jesus but can be adequately answered to by reference to the old Torah teachings. Jesus then refers to the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth commandments of the Decalogue (10 Commandments).

There are plenty of sidetracks one can follow in this text: the role and place of wealth in the life of a disciple; the relationship between faith and reward or between virtue and wealth. Does discipleship always seem to involve a “giving up” of something?  The mashup of sayings of Jesus in this passage can be confusing, not only linguistically but morally. If, as seems to be the case on the surface, one becomes a disciple because of great rewards “down the road” (or “up in the sky”) then, in what ways, does the pursuit of discipleship for this motive seem any more virtuous than the naked pursuit of material gain?

This passage overflows with extremes. As Charles Campbell notes (Feasting on the Word), “The text contains extreme demands (sell everything, give to the poor, and follow me), extreme judgement (it is impossible for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God), and extreme promises (with God all things are possible). These extreme assertions are held together with no attempt to lessen the tensions.”

Part of the response to these extremes lies in the matter of the nature of relationships and I think this will be the line pursued in the Sunday sermon (or maybe not).  J

Questions to Ponder

1. Is the question “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” the question you would ask Jesus if you had one opportunity? What is the question to which you covet a Jesus answer?

2. The Jesus sayings about riches and wealth have most often been interpreted (some would say ‘made palatable’) to mean “the love of money.” In other words, it is not money or wealth but making it the focus of life that blocks us from the life of which Jesus speaks. What stops you from having the life or being the person for which you yearn?

3. Rewards seem to play a significant role in the conversation between the young man and Jesus. To what degree do rewards function as motivation for you? What types of reward carry the most power? Do they function as booster rockets to the life you want or anchors that create drag?

Getting Help

Cover of C.S. Lewis

I was told a couple of weeks ago that I have moderate arthritis in one hip, that there is no cure for this, and that I am very likely to need a hip replacement at some point, if not soon.  I have been glum since I heard this.  This is the first thing I have had go wrong with me that can’t be fixed, and can't even be prevented from getting worse.

I tried to think of someone I could talk to about it.  Could I call my sister, who has had a serious chronic illness all her life?  Or an old friend, who has had type 1 diabetes since her 20s? I was going to tell my mother, but she phoned just then to tell me that a family friend, a woman my age, had that day been diagnosed with a late-stage terminal disease and had no more than days left (she died two days later).  My concerns about arthritis seemed petty by comparison.

Still, I am upset. Someone has painted a slogan around a manhole cover down the street from my house:

“Saying you shouldn’t feel bad because other people have it worse is like saying that you shouldn’t feel happy because other people have it better.”

I would rather not have arthritis. It's not selfish to feel this way, I keep telling myself.  It's normal.

So I have been feeling my way since I heard this, trying to get my head around the new normal, and not doing too well. At last one morning this week I was lying on my kitchen floor, partway through doing my hip and joint-mobility exercises, and I fell into flat despair.  I imagined every possible worst-case scenario at once,  thinking, why am I even bothering to do these exercises? It won’t make any difference.  We're all going to die anyway. There’s no point even getting off the floor.  I may as well just lie here all day and cry, what does it matter?

So I lay on the floor feeling miserable, self-pitying and guilty for feeling self-pitying, and it finally crossed my mind that prayer might help. (For some reason this always occurs to me last.) So I prayed. God, I said,I don’t even know if you’re there but I sure hope you are. Please help me pull out of this because I am in a mess. I've got no right to but I feel so bad.

And then I finished my exercises and got up, still feeling low.  But over the course of the day I realised two things.

One was that I wasn’t meant to feel lucky that others have much worse problems than mine, or guilty if I don't feel lucky when I should. Luck isn't the question. We are all so terribly fragile - me, my sister, my friend with diabetes, my mother’s friend, another friend of mine who (I just heard) had an emergency hip replacement a few months back. But lying on the kitchen floor despairing does not help. The only possible response to our fragility is to love each other as much as we can and do as much as we can with the time we have together.

The other thing I realised was that here as so often, C. S. Lewis has some good advice.  In Letter VI of Lewis' Screwtape Letters, the demon Screwtape is describing a young Englishman's anxiety and distress during World War 2 as he awaits possible military deployment.  The young man is busy imagining all the mutually contradictory ways he could be killed if he is called up, trying to resign himself to all of them at once, and praying to be protected from all these prospective dangers that haven't happened yet.  In this effort God is no help at all; because God does not protect or save us from imagined possible future misery and fear. But God is an immediate comfort in REAL fear.  REAL misery.  PRESENT pain.  The sufferer's real cross to bear was not some possible future disaster; it was his present terror.  And if he prayed for help with that, said Screwtape, he was likely to get it.

My real cross to bear, I gradually saw, was not the possibility that a hypothetical hip replacement might not work or might have awful complications or that 15 years from now it might hypothetically wear out and then I might hypothetically not be able to get a new one because hypothetically there might not be enough bone left to do it.  My real cross to bear is that right now I'm lying on the floor. Right now, I'm terrifying myself by imagining all these things.  My real cross to bear is that I am miserable right now, grieving the loss of my perfect hip and my fantasy future in which I climb Mt. Everest at the age of 80, or become an archaeologist on Mars after I retire (but NASA will never take me now that I have arthritis!)  And when I pray for help with that present sadness, grief, self-pity and driving myself into a tizzy, God is right there, as so often before, giving me a hand up off the floor.

Thoughts on Thanksgiving (Kate Soles)

For abundant food when many go hungry, for family and friends when many walk alone, for health when many suffer constantly, for peace when many live in fear of war, I feel truly thankful.

For yesterday’s beautiful running weather, for the opportunity to watch my son and my dad play together, for time to enjoy the Sunday crossword, for supportive words from my partner, I feel deeply grateful.

Do these sentiments mean the same thing? What, if anything, makes thankfulness different from gratitude? Both involve expression of appreciation; both sooth sadness and lead to acceptance. I think of thankfulness as recognition of bounty, a celebration of our blessings and on the treasures in our lives. Thankfulness restores hope, gives perspective and brings contentment. For me, gratitude represents living in the moments and acknowledging those moments as they unfold. It denotes an openness to notice small graces and to express thanks freely.

Today, above all days, I reflect on my good fortune and wish everybody a Happy Thanksgiving.

A Recipe For Peace (Kate Soles)

Peace. The word conjures up images of white flags, of warring factions laying down their arms, biting their tongues and agreeing to coexist in harmony. We strive to maintain it within our families, we give thanks for its pervasiveness in Canada, we pray that it eventually comes to the Middle East.

But peace extends beyond pacifism; it means more than the absence of war. To varying degrees, peace exists within each of us in the form of calmness and tranquility. This peacefulness comes from quiet reflection, from releasing the past, from abandoning the fragmentation of fear.

Like Laurel, I suffer from anxiety and panic disorder. I find it almost impossible to sit still and let go of my worries; I would find it even harder to completely clear my mind for meditation. I smiled when I read that, whenever Laurel chooses a task from her do-list, she feels guilty that she can’t do everything else on her list at the same time. I feel exactly the same.

So does a remedy exist? Can one write a recipe for inner peace? Combine a sense of harmony with doses of justice, love and unity. Mix at a graceful pace, without allowing yourself to become overwhelmed. Filter out any anger and discord before finishing with the most important ingredient: belief in yourself. If only it were as easy as baking a cake!

Anxiety and God

High Anxiety (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Thinking about Keith's sermon on the silence we need to hear God's voice, and reading Kate's blog post about courage, have helped me to think about this.

I have an anxiety disorder. This makes it hard for me to talk to God. If I try to talk to God about one thing, everything else I'm worried about will all show up and flood the prayer at the same time, and instead of feeling relieved, I wind up feeling more worried than when I began.

Anxiety makes it hard to meditate as well. The last thing I want is to empty my mind, because any empty space in my mind gets filled with anxiety.  Everything I'm worried about floods in. The longer I meditate, the more I find to worry about. By the end of a session I'm a nervous wreck. This is not the kind of positive feedback that encourages me to keep trying.

I am only now beginning to realize how much of an effect anxiety has on everything I do; that it's not just something that flares up from time to time, it's the water I swim in. For example; I can't plan, because knowing that I need to do something at all means to my anxiety that I need to do it right now, and since I can't do everything this instant, choosing any one task out of the stack of tasks in front of me simply makes me feel guilty and anxious that I am not doing all of the other ones. At once. It's easier to just stay in bed.

It is above all very hard to hear God through all this fretting. I only hear my own fears, echoing back and forth inside the curvature of my own skull, drowning out any other voice.

I'm sure God has something to say about all this. In fact, I even know what it is. It's "Be still, and know that I am God."

That God said this tells me that I am not the first person God has met with an anxiety disorder. Still, being still is precisely what anxiety makes it very difficult to do.

However, I think it's something I have to learn to do, because what I'm doing now doesn't work. So I am going to try meditating for five minutes a day. I know everybody says that's not enough, but I have to start somewhere, and more than five minutes at a time fills me with dread. I hope that with practice I can learn to be still, and know that God is God. And someday, I hope, my own mind will even quiet enough, sometimes, to let me hear God's voice.

Courage (Kate Soles)

The Cowardly Lion lacked it. Joan of Arc had it in spades. But what do we mean by courage? How does the virtue transform a person? To a superhero, exhibiting courage involves choosing determination over fear; fighting evil villains with confidence under difficult and perilous circumstances requires it.

But Keith’s sermon this morning made me think about courage in a new light. He said that courage means not hiding the truth. Not that courage simply denotes honesty but that it implies openness, a willingness to experience vulnerability. A friend once asked me whether I was disappointed when I first found out Eliot was a boy and I said yes. I exhibited honesty. This friend then told me that he would feel scared to have a son because he had a poor relationship with his own father and didn’t want old patterns to repeat. He exhibited courage. He did not have to divulge such private thoughts; he could have said nothing or changed the subject while still preserving his own honesty. Instead, he chose to reveal part of himself, to face the truth with humility.

Courage allows us to reach out, to receive life’s invitations be they scary or uncomfortable. It embraces us, shows us new possibilities and fights the desire to give up. Honesty makes us admit the truth; courage gives us the strength to accept the truth.

Wonder and The Divine (Kate Soles)

Albert Einstein once said, “The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious.” I can think of nothing more mysterious than the presence of the Divine, an air that creates overwhelming wonder due to its sheer inexplicability. How does one describe the feeling of a call from God?

Last week, I had the honour of meeting a group of courageous women, each one battling vicious inner demons. Some struggled with drug and alcohol addiction, some dealt with severe depression, all fought a constant war with negative body image and distorted eating. As I listened to their powerful stories, I asked myself, what motivates these women to keep going? What synchronicities point someone towards the decision to quit her job, leave her fiancé and give up her house in order to focus on becoming healthy? Does this constitute a call?

I wouldn’t say I felt a Divine presence among our group that night. But I did feel an appreciation for what is precious and inspiring in life. I did feel moved, centered in the moment and reflective. I did feel open to beauty and mystery. And perhaps that’s not so different from feeling the Divine after all.