the truth shall make you odd

unseen critics

2012-01-11T05:40:00.000-08:00

After being away from this blog for so long, I’m more than a little reluctant to come back. If I post something here today, does that imply a commitment to post something tomorrow or later this week, or later this month? I’m afraid I’ve let this blog become another pressure to “perform” – to produce something witty or insightful or lovely. Or at least to produce something more often then once every few months. Also, I confess: I read other blogs and compare. The comparison is not life-giving or inspiring. This blog becomes a reproach. How opposite that is to my original intent to find a place for expression and connection.
God of light, the unseen critics stand on my shoulder. They lean on my back; they are heavy, they are strong. They squeeze my head until it hurts. They shake a finger in my face. They clutch at my ankles so that every step forward is an effort. They crowd my brain until the river of creativity slows to a trickle and threatens to dry up altogether. God of acceptance and power, remove the unseen critics. Only you have the power to displace these long established residents. But I believe that if you make me free, I will be free indeed. Amen.

Wisdom

2011-09-06T16:58:00.000-07:00

Wisdom consists in doing the next thing that you have to do; doing it with your whole heart and finding delight in doing it. And this delight is the sense of the sacred. -Helen Luke

Teatime with my demons

2011-09-06T04:39:00.001-07:00

excerpts from an article by Suzanne Guthrie in The Christian Century:
"My friend Brother Bede likes to tell a story about the Buddhist saint Milarepa. When demons came to his cave to torment him, Milarepa said to them, "How kind of you to come. you must come again tomorrow. and from time to time we must converse" And Milarepa invited the demons in for tea...
"My demons manifest themselves in forms so familiar I don't even recognize them when they come to call until it's too late and I've lost my equilibrium: anxiety, perfectionism, the sweet savor of annoyance over another's bad habits, self loathing...
"There was a time when men and women left the cities to encounter God in the desert. But memories, experiences, habits, prejudices, and irrational fears came with them, clashing with silence, starkness and solitude. Extracting themselves from the demons camouflaged within their culture, they found concentrated phantasms erupting from their own thoughts, unhealed personalities and broken selves. Seeking purity of heart, the desert mothers and fathers had to face the demons erupting from their own hearts...
"Lately when my own demons show up, I try to have the presence of mind to invite them into my consciousness...Surprisingly, my bad spirits are less chaotic when I pay attention to them..."

God, help me to pay attention to my demons, to learn from them, and to trust in your power to help me overcome them - in your time, and in ways that you would choose. Amen.

God Says Yes

2011-07-02T18:28:00.000-07:00

God Says Yes To Me
Kaylin Haught

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

from The Palm of your Hand, 1995
Tilbury House Publishers

Eviction protest and the police

2011-06-18T16:27:00.000-07:00

The Randolph Police had their first interaction with CityLife/VidaUrbana yesterday.
When the constable and the truck arrived for the eviction, there were 30 of us on the lawn, with signs, singing, chanting, praying.
Soon, police officers started to arrive.
One young police officer who arrived a bit later, said to the man holding a sign next to me: “What’s going on? Why are you here? What are you doing?”
Our fellow protester explained to the officer that Ketly, the homeowner, had been foreclosed and we wanted Fannie Mae to let her pay fair market rent and stay with her family until the house is sold to someone else. Also, we wanted Fannie Mae to consider, in good faith, an offer that a local non-profit has made to buy the house for cash.
Police officer nods his approval: “Good for you guys. That’s great.”
The Randolph police gave CL/VU an extra 2 hours past the deadline to try to make the deal. And they were almost as happy as we were when, 15 minutes past the deadline, as the moving truck backed into the driveway, the phone call came: eviction postponed. Fannie Mae will consider the offer.

communication, Coca Cola and the future

2011-06-16T10:22:00.000-07:00

At Church Hill, we have a new communications group. I sat in on their last meeting. One of the primary goals that was mentioned in our winter focus groups is to attract more young families from the community and this group is working on that goal.
Shortly after that meeting, I was in another gathering, where I heard for the 10th or 100th or 1000th time, “it’s just not like it used to be. People just aren’t interested in church anymore. People are too busy. They just don’t care.” Followed by a big sigh and shrug of the shoulders.
And for some reason, I thought about soda. Coke, to be specific. And here’s what I thought:
When Coca Cola noticed that sales of one particular product have fallen off, and the company’s profits were not as rosy as they used to be, and share holders were getting worried, do you think that people at Coke were hanging around their cubicles saying things like: “What’s wrong with people these days? Don’t they know how delicious this is? Don’t they know what a great product it is? I love it just the way it is. Remember when everybody drank Coke? There are just so many competing products. What can we do?” Followed by a big sigh and shrug of the shoulders.
I guarantee you that this did not happen at the corporate offices of Coca Cola.
Wishful thinking and blaming consumers is not part of their strategy.
Instead, people at coke began to ask questions:
How have people’s beverage drinking habits changed? Why have they changed?
Do they prefer a different kind of flavor? Is the bottle/can too big, too small?
What kinds of beverages are becoming more popular? What will they want to drink tomorrow?

They did research. Then they asked themselves:
Do we need to change our formulas? Do we need to change our marketing strategy?
What can we do to bring consumers back to Coke products?
In other words, how do we need to change to accommodate these new realities?

And then, and here’s the pivotal point: they actually made the changes.

The people at Coke did not blame themselves or others.
They did not feel sorry for themselves. They did not give up.
They saw a need to take action and they did.

I don’t know what exactly was needed to make the changes. Retrofitting old plants? Building new ones? Changing personnel? Different management strategies?
The point it, they did what needed to be done so that no one today is saying, “Coke. I remember that. My parents used to drink it when I was kid.”

So that’s my parable. As Jesus used to say, “let those who have ears, hear.”

Flannery's Angel by Charles Wright

2011-05-24T17:28:00.000-07:00

Lead us to those we are waiting for,
Those who are waiting for us.
May your wings protect us
may we not be strangers in the lush province of joy.

Remember us who are weak,
You who are strong in your country which lies beyond the thunder,
Raphael, angel of happy meeting,
resplendent, hawk of the light.

2011-02-11T05:03:00.000-08:00

"The story of God's life with us is the deep landscape against which we begin to notice and recognize the mystery of love at work in everything." Mark McIntosh

Rejoice Over Everything

2010-12-23T05:18:00.000-08:00

Just for today, in spite of everything still to be done - services not quite complete, gifts not yet wrapped, meals still unmade, errands still to run - I'm going to try to heed these words, just a tiny bit.

Rejoice over everything.
Exult. Exhilarate.
Be glad. Be delighted, elated, and bowled over with joy!

Frolic freely, hop, hope,
dance on the dare, cheer,
champion the little ones, revel in the riotous light.

Invoke God without ceasing. Pray with passion.
Whatever you do, do not quench the Spirit.

Take care not to douse or dampen the bold blaze in your depths.
Jump into life. Hold fast to it. Give thanks for everything.

For everything, even the most misshapen and misunderstood,
is the disguise of the divine.

Susan Virginia Hull

2010-12-21T04:38:00.000-08:00

Noel
by Anne Porter
When snow is shaken
From the balsam trees
And they're cut down
And brought into our houses

When clustered sparks
Of many-colored fire
Appear at night
In ordinary windows

We hear and sing
The customary carols

They bring us ragged miracles
And hay and candles
And flowering weeds of poetry
That are loved all the more
Because they are so common

But there are carols
That carry phrases
Of the haunting music
Of the other world
A music wild and dangerous
As a prophet's message

Or the fresh truth of children
Who though they come to us
From our own bodies
Are altogether new
With their small limbs
And birdlike voices

They look at us
With their clear eyes
And ask the piercing questions
God alone can answer.

2010-10-15T13:12:00.000-07:00

Luke 17:5-6

As you have heard next Sunday is our “Grow One Sunday”. And so during this week we are asking you to pray about whether God is calling you to grow one step in giving this year – Either by making a pledge if you haven’t done that in the past, or by growing in the portion of your income that you give. And to help us get started in our thinking and praying, let’s think about mustard seeds. (Instead of mustard seed, The Message paraphrase says “poppy seed” – most of us have probably had a poppy seed muffin or bagel, so we can picture what he’s talking about) So, let’s think about poppy seeds.

When I came to this story from the bible that is assigned for today, I had to stop and think for a minute and try to remember. What was going on that caused the disciples to say to Jesus, “Give us more faith”? I couldn’t remember, so I read backwards to see what had been going on. And the context is this: the disciples had just asked Jesus a question: with all this talk of forgiveness, Jesus, how often do I have to forgive someone who wrongs me? Seven times? And Jesus replies: no, not seven. Seventy times seven. You have to live life of forgiveness. Wow. That's a lot of forgiveness. No wonder the disciples said, “If that’s the case, Jesus, you’d better give us some more faith.” And Jesus answers them in this surprising way. “If you had as much faith as this tiny seed, you could say to this tree, “be planted in the sea, and it would obey you.” And you can almost hear the disciples, can’t you? "A poppy seed? Really? That’s all the faith we need? Well, I’ve got that much faith!" And that’s exactly the point.

The original text of this passage is in ancient Greek and Greek grammar can be a bit tricky. When Jesus says, “If you had faith as big as a tiny see…” it’s a clause according to fact. You know how we say, “Is the Pope Catholic?” It’s the same sort of thing – it’s as if Jesus were saying: if the sky were blue… iff birds could fly… If you had faith as big as a poppy seed… Which you do! You’ve got that much faith! And it’s enough. That’s enough faith. You just have to use it.

There is a story about Alexander the Great, the Greek ruler who created one of the greatest dynasties in history. A man came to Alexander, asking for ten talents. Alexander responded by giving him 50 talents. The man tried to stop Alexander, saying that 10 would be enough. And Alexander replied, “True, ten are enough for you to receive, but not enough for me to give.” Alexander’s giving had to do with who he was, not who the recipient was. His giving had to do with his own need to give. That’s the question for us today: How much do we need to give so that we can grow in faith?

There was a time in the life of the church when we made some serious mistakes regarding stewardship. Mistakes that have proven very difficult to undo. There have been times when we have acted as if stewardship is all about the church’s need to receive money. And in doing that, we have lost focus on the real meaning of stewardship as a spiritual practice. We’re trying to correct that.

You may have noticed that in recent years, when we start to talk about stewardship, we don’t usually say much about the church budget. Because as we talk about stewardship, to focus on the church budget, would be to miss the point, it would be to ask the wrong question. The question, in Alexander’s terms, is not “how much does the church need to receive?” As if God were waiting for a hand out from us. After all, we are a part of the church of Jesus Christ, established by God to endure through the ages.

And we know that this congregation that we’re a part of is doing great things – in missions, with baby kits and Father Bill's and our new church wide emphasis on housing needs. We’ve got a new Sunday School program for the kids and the Breakfast club for the teens and an entire youth group experience focuses on helping kids reach out to help others. We trust that, Chuck Frary has said about a thousand times since I’ve known him, God gives us what we need to do the work God wants us to do.

No, the question at hand is not how much does the church need to receive, the question, as Alexander asked himself, is how much do I need to give? That is the question for me and it is the question for you: How much do I need to give to be true to myself? How much do I need to give to be faithful to the God that I know in my life? How much do I need to give as a spiritual practice? For giving, at its best, is a spiritual practice that benefits us, the givers.

We have talked all summer and into the fall about spiritual practices. A spiritual practice is something that we do intentionally that connects us to God – to God’s creation – and to other people. A spiritual practice is something we do to create an open space within our lives, within our hearts, where God can come and dwell. And giving – regular, planned, disciplined, generous, giving is a spiritual practice that is foundational for all of us who want to follow Jesus. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism said it this way: earn all you can, save all you can, give all you can.

Occasionally someone will say to me, “I don’t really need to make a pledge. I give whenever there’s a need – I give when they need money for Father Bill's or for the disaster relief or for baby kits. But I don’t want to make a pledge." And when I hear that, I think of how giving is like prayer. Many, perhaps most, Christians pray at certain times in our lives: When we are going through a difficult time, when we’re grieving or worried. We give thanks when something wonderful happens, when we feel blessed and thankful. And those prayers are so important.

But it is the other kind of praying that really bears fruit. Regular praying, every day, day in day out, in good times and bad times – but mostly the in the in between times. Praying whether we feel like it or not. Praying whether it seem like it’s doing any good or not. Regular, disciplined, planned praying – this is the spiritual discipline that opens the space in our hearts where God can come in and dwell.

And so it is with giving. Giving when there is a special need or perhaps when we’ve had an unexpected windfall is important. But it’s the regular giving, every week, every month – writing the check whether I want to or not, whether I feel like I can afford it or not, whether I feel changed by me giving or not, that eventually make the place in our hearts where God can dwell. You have heard testimonies last week and the week before from people about how their own giving, in some cases, their own tithing, has changed them. How they have been made different because they give. A greater trust in God, a deeper peace, a sense of being a part of something much greater than oneself, freedom from the power that money tries have in our lives. It’s different for everyone. But giving in this way changes us.

But back to the mustard seed or the poppy seed. Most of us who gather here are trying to come closer to God, to have some experience of the holy. We are trying to put that poppy seed of faith to use, and giving as a spiritual practice is one way which we do that. So my prayer is that as we prepare for our Grow One Sunday is that we would follow Alexander’s example, and ask ourselves, “how much do I need to give?” What is the portion that I need to give to open that place inside me where God can come and dwell? May God be with us as we put our poppy seed of faith to use. Amen.

Passion

2010-09-11T11:42:00.001-07:00

We recently watched “Herb and Dorothy” a documentary about Herb and Dorothy Vogel. They are art collectors, now in their 90’s, with a passion for minimalist and conceptual art, but also for post minimalist and abstract expressionist work.
He was a postal clerk, she a librarian, living in Manhattan. Ever since very early in their marriage, they have collected art. They decided to live on her salary and use his to acquire artwork. They visited galleries and studios, developing close friendships with many artists who would later go on to be universally acclaimed – Robert Barry, Sol LeWitt, Richard Tuttle.
They didn’t collect art as an investment – indeed they made a decision to never sell anything they had bought. They collected because it was a passion – it was their life’s work. They had two criteria for selecting work: they both had to like it and it had to fit in their modest one bedroom apartment.
They collected well over 4,000 pieces of work. Over 1000 are now in the National Gallery of Art (they chose that institution because it has a policy of not selling its work and because it is free to the public). But they had far too many pieces for the National Gallery. So they established “fifty works for fifty states” – giving an institution in each state 50 pieces of art.
Inspirational! Read more here: http://vogel5050.org

end of the summer

2010-09-08T14:43:00.001-07:00

I love this end of the summer season in the flower gardens. The end is near, so I no longer feel compelled to pull every weed or bit of crabgrass – I now pull up only those weeds that dwarf the flowers or threaten to take over the garden. Fallen leaves begin to blow into the beds. The purple morning glory has ventured across the garden and mixes with the basil and the roses. In the spring, I wonder why I plant marigolds, and in the fall I remember, for now they are the most brilliant players. Yellow zinnias and pink petunias have grown long and leggy, and the lily gives one last squeak of a blossom. A few sunflowers still blossom, but most have become places for the birds to perch and feed.
Whatever early May plan I had for the garden is forgotten – whether it was a success or not no longer matters. The chrysanthemums begin to show color, but aside from the morning glories and marigolds, everything else is gasping its last.
It’s a time of acceptance - of appreciating the beauty that is there and overlooking the rest. It’s a welcome contrast to life at the church, where the fall brings more to do and greater expectations. I love this season in the flower garden.

Calling

2010-08-13T06:12:00.000-07:00

When I think about the calling to be a pastor, sometimes I am amazed at the blessing and sometimes I am overwhelmed with the impossibility.
How can we hope to do this? We hold in our hands matters of life and of death, of loss and of love, of hope and disappointment, anxiety and despair. We deal with things as powerful and as mysterious as prayer and healing and sacrament. And yet we also must deal with an argument over the bake sale or a flower arrangement. We sit with someone as they prepare to pass from this life to the life beyond, and then, an hour later, we sit through a protracted discussion about replacing a window pane or the price of copier paper.
How can we hope to do this? How can we bear it? And yet, we try to make meaning in all of it, to sense God's Spirit, to name God's presence.
How can we hope to do this? Only through the One whose presence we seek. Jesus, the broken bread, the broken body. Jesus, who, in one moment had a mystical experience on the mountaintop, and in the next moment listened to Peter talk about a building program. Jesus, who taught his friends about the ways of God only to hear them argue about who was most important.
The holy in the ordinary. God, give me eyes to see it. And words to name it. And love to share it.

spiritual practices

2010-07-16T09:54:00.000-07:00

This week I'm thinking of the spiritual practice of walking. And it's led me to think about spiritual practices in general. My understanding is that a spiritual practice is something that we do that allows God to work in us. I usually think of a spiritual practice as something like centering prayer or praying the psalms, but reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s An Altar in the World is encouraging me to think more broadly.
A spiritual practice is not like a diet or working out at the gym or learning Spanish, where you know that if you do x (eat less, exercise more, study 30 minutes a day) than y will result (lose weight, get in shape, know Spanish). The results of a spiritual practice are not predictable or instantaneous, they can’t be scheduled. When I do a spiritual practice, I don’t know what God will do or how God will do it or when it will happen.
Trust. Wait. Do the practice whether I like it or not, whether it is rewarding or not, whether I see “results” or not. Trust that God can and will work in me.

2010-05-05T15:53:00.000-07:00

Three more photos from Andalusia:
one of the out buildings on the farm - sad to see that several barns are not being preserved or maintained at all.
a peacock - so beloved by O'Connor, at one time she had over 100 peafowl on the place. She loved all fowl, as a matter of fact - sometime I'll tell you the home economics class story.
her bedroom - perhaps originally a parlor, it's to your immediate right as you come in the front door. You can see her crutches propped up against the wardrobe. Her actual desk and typewriter are at Georgia College and State University in town (yes, we saw them, too). The rooms are dark, almost dreary, but in the sweltering hot Georgia summers, I'm imagining that would make it seem cooler.

I'm a Red Sox fan

2010-05-05T15:49:00.000-07:00

I just read an interview with Dustin Pedroia about his teammate, David Ortiz. Of course, everyone’s wondering and talking and speculating about what kind of future Ortiz has with the sort of painful shows he’s been making lately.
Here’s a bit of what Pedroia said: “David’s fine. He’s one of our teammates. It could have been me…It happens to everybody…Relax. I’m tired of looking at the NESN poll… David’s fine. We believe in him… He’s going to come out of it…Papi’s fine.”
How great to play with a team that believes in you and has your back and encourages you. Wouldn’t it be great if we all could play on such a team? Wouldn’t it be great if the church were a team like that, where we had each others' backs and looked for the best in each other?

Andalusia

2010-04-28T05:12:00.000-07:00

Last week we went on a pilgrimage of sorts. Or, I should say, I went on a pilgrimage and Stewart patiently indulged me. We were going to Alabama to visit his mother, but we first made an overnight detour from the Atlanta airport to Milledgeville, GA to Andalusia, the farm where Flannery O’Connor lived during her most productive years of writing (from age 26 until her death at 39).
Andalusia is a most unextraordinary place. A very simple farmhouse – O’Connor and her mother moved here from a more grand place in town, where they had lived with a wealthy cousin. Flannery had inherited the farm from an uncle and the house allowed them to live on one floor – a necessity as her lupus began to restrict her mobility.
The house is simple, the furnishings unremarkable. What a contrast to O’Connor’s inner world, which was populated with grotesque freaks and misfits. She led a quiet and conventional life – many people in the community couldn’t believe that she was the author of the stories that bore her name. Who knows the forces, inner and outer, that shape a person’s imagination and character.

2010-03-27T14:37:00.000-07:00

in the bulb there is flower: update

2010-03-10T14:40:00.000-08:00

Yellow and blue crocus are blooming.

2010-03-10T05:07:00.000-08:00

Luke 23:39-43
“One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”
Two criminals, side by side with Jesus. Strangers, all three, but all suffering the same slow and painful death. One of them says, scornfully: aren’t you the Messiah? If you are, save yourself and us!
But the other criminal scolds him and says to Jesus: Remember me when you come into your kingdom. And to this one, Jesus says, “Yes. I will.”
Both of them ask the same thing, don’t they? Save me! But one, scornful, demanding, wanting proof, distances himself from Jesus. The other reaches out to Jesus in reliance and hope and trust. And Jesus, knowing nothing of this criminal but what is revealed in his asking, reaches back. Yes. Today you will be with me in paradise.
In one sense, it’s an almost ridiculous scene. One condemned and dying criminal turning to another and asking to be saved. And yet, in that moment, we find hope.
It is in our reaching out, in our asking, in our reliance and hope and trust, that we experience that today – right now – we are with Jesus. The moment when our hearts are open and our hands are empty, then we are able to receive the presence of Christ.

Red life

2010-02-18T17:36:00.000-08:00

Linda, our church musician, gave me an amaryllis bulb for Christmas. Yesterday, Ash Wednesday, it blossomed.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.
(George Mattheson 1882)

Geraniums and Lent

2010-02-17T06:19:00.000-08:00

The pink geraniums from my yard spend the winter in my office in the Fellowship Center. The windows capture the full morning sun, brilliant on a day like today. The even coating of snow that came last night after the rain reflects every precious bit of the February sun.
Even in these best of all possible windows, it’s just not enough sun for my geraniums, and they turn towards the windows. Since I haven’t tended to them in a week or so, they are pressing themselves against the window, greedy for more sun. They’ve grown leggy, too, long thin stems with small leaves. I need to turn them around and pinch them back.
Get rid of the leggy stems and let them put their energy into growing fuller.
I feel like those geraniums. In February I strain for the renewing rays of the life giving sun. My spirit has grown leggy, thin and sparse. And so, thank God, it is time for Lent. Time for me turn and get a new perspective. Time to allow myself to be pinched back – pruned.
Time to begin the journey to hope.

in the bulb there is a flower

2010-02-09T13:40:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday I had my gall bladder taken out. The surgery went well – it’s day surgery – in at 10, to the OR at 11, into the wheelchair and out the side door at 4. Recovery’s gone fine, too, except that on Sunday I came down with a cold, which has left me tired and achy beyond the incisions that pull when I cough or sneeze.
But today I’ve felt better – done a bit of desk work (or, more accurately, counter work – since at home I work at the wide kitchen counter). Tony the Wonderdog has been so mopey while I’ve been mopey, so it was time to get outside a bit.
A snowstorm is predicted for tomorrow, but today skies were blue, the sun was shining brightly and I could hear some birds singing down in the cattails by the blueberry patch. I gingerly threw the ball, Tony enthusiastically fetched. And, by the kitchen doorstep, I noticed some daffodils poking their brave heads up through the winter hardened soil. Spring is coming. Not right away, of course. This is New England. A snowstorm’s coming first – and probably more than one. But spring is coming.
And I thought how good it is, at least for those us in the northern hemisphere, that Lent – this season that calls us to difficult reflection on the wintered hardened places in our lives – Lent comes in February and not in November. For in February, there is promise in the longer days, the higher sun, the bluer skies. We’re not there yet, not by a long shot. But by God’s grace, the bud will blossom.

living slowly

2010-02-01T17:45:00.000-08:00

God, help us to live slowly:
To move simply:
To look softly:
To allow emptiness:
To let the heart create for us. Amen.

how come?

2010-01-26T14:30:00.000-08:00

How come I always have such creative ideas for blog posts while a. in the car b. in the shower c. out for a walk d. in a meeting e. sweating on the elliptical?
And how come, when I sit down to write, those ideas have vanished like the smoke of an extinguished candle?
How come?

to dust we shall return

2010-01-21T06:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was working on the church newsletter for February and people were bringing their health kits for Haiti to the Fellowship Center. As I was writing about Lent, the devastation in Haiti reminded me that life is so fragile and we as humans are so vulnerable. The reminders are with us every day of the phrase we repeat on Ash Wednesday - we are dust and to dust we shall return. We never know the moment of that return to dust – whether in the instant of the earth’s shaking or the silent creeping of individual illness. We can try to buy a little peace of mind by becoming preoccupied with building walls to keep mortality at bay. Or, we can put ourselves and those we love in the hands of the God whose love reaches even beyond death. Easier said than done, I know. But that is our journey of faith, not only during lent, not only in the face of unfathomable human loss, but each and every day of our ordinary lives.

Cooking therapy

2010-01-20T16:56:00.000-08:00

Nice to have a bit of time to cook dinner and share a meal without dashing out the door!

Chicken with olives

Heat about 2 T, olive oil in skillet. When hot, add:
4 bone-in chicken thighs
Brown on both sides. Pour off the excess oil. Try not to spill it on the floor (argh).
Add:
About 1 ½ cups canned diced tomatoes (though fresh would be great, in about 6 months)
A handful of pitted kalamata olives – 15-20.
Oregano – about 2 tsp dried (again, fresh would be better.)
2 shakes of crushed red pepper
Salt
½ cup red wine (used pinot noir)
Simmer till done. Serve with rice and sprinkle with feta.

Roasted green beans
Toss green beans with olive oil and coarse salt. Roast at 450 for 15 minutes or so.

before I go....

2010-01-03T11:34:00.000-08:00

I've been away from my blog during the busy season of preparing for Christmas. and now I'm about to leave for a week of low tech vacation (i.e.laptop not going with me).
I need a "reset" - seem to spending more unproductive time with technology. I'm headed for a time of reading, walking, maybe some biking - if the weather is warm enough in Destin, FL. Maybe a movie or two.
Before I go, I'm posting today's sermon. The weather kept many folks home. And since I based the sermon on folks' responses to questions I asked earlier in the week, some are curious. If you want to hear it, you can go to the Church Hill website later this week: http://www.chumcnorwell.com/templates/System/default.asp?id=33862. But here's the text:

Sharing the Light: Jan. 3, 2010
Matthew 2:1-12
Isaiah 60:1-6

Most of you know that on Christmas Day, over in the Fellowship Center, over 130 people gathered for a celebration. The hall was beautifully decorated, the tables set with linens and centerpieces, guests were greeted with music and appetizers and laughter. Gail and her team of volunteers from Church Hill, and from other churches and from no church, give an amazing gift of love.
In the days right before Christmas, I was regularly working in the office and answering the phone when it rang. I was glad to take folks’ reservations, but maybe even more moving for me were some of the people I spoke to who called to cancel their reservations. One woman who called to say she could not come after all said, “Even though I won’t be there, I still smile every time I drive down River Street and see your sign and think of everyone together there.” And another woman who had received a last minute invitation to a friend’s home said to me, “You have no idea how much it has meant to me these past weeks to know that I would not have to be alone on Christmas Day.”
I thought about how many folks need the connection that we have here, the connection to God and Jesus’ message of hope and love and the connection to a community. I thought, maybe we need some more volunteers from Church Hill – not to help cook and serve – because we have plenty for that. But volunteers to sit at the tables and listen to people – get to know them a bit – hear their stories and make a human connection.
To share a bit of light.
On Epiphany Sunday we read the story of the magi, the story of those wise, wealthy, educated ones from foreign lands who saw a star and followed its light and came to worship Jesus. They were so different from Jesus and his people, the carpenter and the shepherds and inn keeper: different language, different religion, and different customs. And yet they came, guided by the light, and gathered with the others to worship the Christ child
For us in the church, Epiphany is the season of light—the season in which we remember and celebrate that God is revealed to us—God’s light shines in the darkness. It begins on Christmas Eve, in the darkened sanctuary. I light my candle from the Christ candle,
And then, very slowly, the light spreads. During this season, we focus on the ways in which we spread the light of Christ outside the sanctuary, in the places we live and work and play.
To help my thinking this week I posed two questions via email: I asked: How did you come to know about Jesus? And then, what brought you to Church Hill church? I received 24 responses over the course of the week.

This morning I’d like to share some thoughts about your responses as well as some questions it has raised for me. I won’t be quoting or citing anyone in particular, but if you replied you may hear some themes from your response here.
The majority of responses said that you had come to know Jesus as a child or young person. Some heard bible stories read at home, and others mentioned Sunday School. More than one person said, “I can’t remember ever not knowing about Jesus.”
Knowing about Jesus’ love was foundational for many of you. And even though you may have taken other paths or gone in different directions at various points in your life, somehow that foundational knowledge stayed with you, and at some point, it brought you home.
It made me think about what an important ministry we have with our children who will join us here in a moment, clomping down the aisles to sit with parents or grandparents and kneel with us at the table. We are laying a foundation with these children. We are giving them something that will always be with them. No matter where life takes, no matter their success or failures, not matter the choices they make – good or bad - what they learn about Jesus from us will always stay with them.
And something that was interesting to me was to discover that for those who told me how you came to know about Jesus, about 50 % more of you mentioned learning about him at church than at home. For most of you, the church – and most likely Sunday School, is the way your faith was formed. A couple of folks even mentioned childhood Sunday School teachers by name.
One person wrote of being a child in second grade and seeing the people come out of the church across the street from her home, smiling – looking happy – and so she took herself to Sunday School there.
The church’s role in forming faith in children is crucial. Some parents do not have a faith to impart to their children. Some do not know how to talk with their children about God. And yet those children still need to hear the message of Jesus’ saving love for them.
How can we reach out to those children? How can we spread the light that we have received to the children in our communities who need this foundation, too? Some churches have weekday programs or special events or programs during school vacations that draw in children from the community. At our vacation bible school this summer, half the kids who came were kids whose parents don’t attend Church Hill. How can we build on that? And how can we make sure that those kids who come only for a few hours that week receive the kernel of the gospel?
In your answers to this question, several people told about how they came to know about Jesus and then went on to say how, at a later time, they came to know Jesus.
Knowing about Jesus at some point has to translate into knowing Jesus and having a relationship with him. That’s another sermon at least.
But it is also interesting to me that while so many mentioned the importance of Sunday School, of bible study classes, of small study and growth groups. And not one mentioned Sunday morning worship. Now, I don’t take this to mean that Sunday worship is insignificant. But I do think that being together in small faith groups is an important, formative way in which the light gets through into our lives – when we share and listen and ask questions and hear each others’ insights and experiences. And it makes me think that we probably don’t have enough of those opportunities here at Church Hill.
I also asked the question “How did you come to Church Hill?” and, about half of you said that you came here because you were “church shopping” as they say – you were on a deliberate search for a church that was congruent with your own faith and where you would feel welcome. Maybe you were new to the area, or maybe you were just looking for a place where the light could shine for you.
And an equal number of you said that you came because you were invited. Someone offered you a specific invitation: come visit my church, come try my bible group, come, bring your kids to Vacation Bible School at my church.
I know that to some, that seems pretty risky – but someone who knew you did take that risk and invited you. And you accepted that invitation because what they offered in some way touched a need.
And many, many of you said that once you came, someone specific made you welcome. Someone reached out to you and helped you find your place at Church Hill.
And I’d like to name names: Ruth and Everett Russell, Roland Scott, Carolyn Hathorne, Luke Lukoski, Nancy O’Donnell, Dot Underdown, Joan Gabriel, Harriet Loring. Some of you were mentioned more than once.
Whether you were searching for a church or came because someone invited you, it is the personal connection that has made it stick. Someone, in some way, shared the light.
We are here today because someone, maybe many people, have shared the light with us. As we come to this table this morning, we remember that we are recipients of a gift. Our faith in Jesus is not something that we created ourselves – it has been shared with us. And we are called to share it with others. With children and families. With people who are searching. With friends and family. With strangers. With those who are lonely or alone. As we come to the table today, we reach out to receive. And when we leave, we go out to share the light with others.

Amen.

spiritual practice

2009-12-10T05:48:00.000-08:00

I went out in the rain and snow yesterday to see my spiritual director. Because I badly needed a spiritual attitude adjustment.
I confessed/complained to her that I have neglected most of my spiritual practices of late.
Then we talked about the sermon for this Sunday and how I sometimes feel like letting loose like John the Baptist and calling people a bunch of snakes and other unhelpful things. And then we talked about the spiritual struggles of living in upper middle class, materialistic, consumer oriented, image conscious suburbia.
When we were done, she said to me (or at least this is what I heard): here is your spiritual practice: to write a sermon without calling people names. And here is your other spiritual practice: to continue to struggle with issues of consumption and possessions and image without selling out and without the unhelpful messages that guilt conveys.
And then she said: I hope you get to spend a few minutes of quietness with God.

And it was worth the messy drive, because now I remember that the spiritual practices are not only those special moments set aside, but the spiritual practices are also the ways that we live our faith in every moment of our lives.

2009-11-20T16:56:00.000-08:00

It's not what you say....

2009-11-19T12:15:00.000-08:00

I’m reading a book about communication in the church, Less Clutter, Less Noise by Kem Meyer. She tells a story about a grandfather who was teaching his four year old grandson how to read. The boy pointed to a picture in a zoo book and said, “look, Grandpa, it’s a frickin’ elephant.” The grandfather took a deep breath and asked, “What did you call it?”
“It’s a frickin’ elephant, Grandpa – it says so in the picture.”
And so it did. When the grandpa looked down at the picture, it read:
“A F R I C A N Elephant.”
Meyer concludes: It’s not what you say: it’s what people hear.
What are we saying in the church? What are we saying about God and following Jesus? What are saying about our community and our congregation? What are we saying about the things we do here? And even more importantly: what are people hearing? It’s not enough to talk about what’s meaningful to us – we have to talk about what’s meaningful for the people we are to whom we are speaking.

prayer on a sick day

2009-11-17T12:53:00.000-08:00

May I be at peace.
May my heart always be open.
May I awaken to the divine light deep within.
May I be healed.
May I be a source of healing for others.

(artwork by Drew Gold)

aging

2009-11-11T17:46:00.001-08:00

from Helen:

I am of the nature to grow old.
There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill-health.
There is no way to escape having ill-health.

I am of the nature to die.
There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love
are of the nature to change.
There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground on which I stand.

buddha

Long furrows

2009-10-29T06:11:00.000-07:00

Psalm 129 is one of those psalms that I usually don’t care much for – asking God to smite those who oppose us. But somehow this morning the imagery in that psalm caught my imagination:
“Those who plough ploughed on my back; they made their furrows long.”
It sometimes does feel like people are ploughing on my back – irritating, aggravating, spiteful, unnecessarily difficult or recalcitrant. But maybe, after they have ploughed their long furrows, something good or fruitful can grow from those furrows. Maybe their oppositional or acrimonious actions can, in some way, bear some fruit. That will have to be God’s doing.
“Let them be like the grass on housetops that withers before it grows up”
Well, if you don’t clean out your gutters, pretty soon grass (and plants and trees) are thriving there – but I don’t suppose gutters were an issue for the psalmist. May evil wither before it grows up. May our lives be inhospitable to evil and injustice. May we create a world of rooftops, where evil can establish no roots.

Crockpot Chicken

2009-10-21T18:52:00.000-07:00

It's been crazy busy and it was nice to come and smell this cooking in the late afternoon yesterday.

Crockpot Chicken with Olives

4 boneless chicken breast halves
1 can stewed tomatoes
1 small jar roasted red peppers
About a cup of leftover spaghetti sauce
About ¾ cup kalamata olives

Cook on high for 1 hour and then on low for the rest of the day (about 8 hours this time, but 6 hours works fine)

We had it with rice – pasta would be good, too.

random thoughts

2009-10-20T14:27:00.000-07:00

My thoughts bounce around these days without landing longing enough to focus, it seems.
Some random thoughts:
I’m praying for the 13 provisional members who will be coming to the Board of Ordained Ministry this week to be examined for full membership. I pray that they will speak as the Spirit leads them. And I pray for us on the Board, for ears of discernment to hear the murmuring of the Spirit.
I’m also praying for the leadership at Church Hill. There is so much to celebrate here, and so much more that we could be doing in ministry and mission. May we embrace the possibilities.
I am so thankful for our three daughters. Georgia was home for part of Columbus Day weekend – we had lovely walk in Arnold Arboretum. Emily made the drive from Worcester on Saturday afternoon to have supper with us. This past weekend, Helen was home from Bennington, VT. We cooked and shopped at the Salvation Army and, between rainstorms, hiked at Thayer Woods.
I think it’s hilarious to have a kitten! Tony is sleeping, and she is sniffing his head. When he makes a little move, she jumps straight up in the air!

take that!

2009-10-14T18:34:00.000-07:00

Breathing

2009-10-13T04:44:00.000-07:00

As I look at my calendar for the next few weeks, I can feel my chest get a little tight and shoulders a little higher and forehead a bit more wrinkled. How will I ever have time to do all the things I’ve written in those little daily squares? How will I be able to do them well? I feel the beginnings of panic.
This is the opposite of mindfulness. I am so worried about whether I’ll be able to accomplish the next task that I can’t focus on the present task. I become less attentive, less creative, it starts to feel like the places within me where the Spirit resides are crowded with anxiety.
Breathe. Let me take time to breathe in the Spirit and breathe out the anxiety.
Here’s the prayer:

God, may I be at peace. May my heart always be open. May I awaken to your light deep within. May I be healed. May I become a source of healing to others.
Amen.

animal antics

2009-10-09T18:21:00.000-07:00

It's a lot of fun having a kitten. Pearl and Tony the Wonderdog have become great friends - sometimes with disastrous results. They had some sort of chase through the dining room, resulting in smashed plants, a pumpkin and tablecloth on the floor, and dirt tracked into the living room. Sigh.
But Pearl does all the goofy kitten things that make us laugh - going ballistic with a piece of wire, jumping out from under the sofa, sideways, like a ninja. She cuddles and purrs, and is very social.
I'm sure we'll clean up some more messes, but it's great to have her here.

Mindfulness

2009-10-09T06:48:00.000-07:00

The spiritual discipline of mindfulness: being truly present in each moment. Letting God's spirit speak in each moment, each event, each person, each activity. For me, it's such a hard practice. While washing the dishes, to be focused on washing the dishes, the warm water, the bubbles, the feel of the plates - rather than thinking about what I'm going to do next. I'm pretty good at multi-tasking, which is the opposite of mindfulness, I think. So I am trying to cultivate this practice. For instance, when I am working in my office, and there is a knock on the door, to truly set aside whatever I am doing and to see the interruption as a God moment. And to treat each moment, however small, each activity, no matter how seemingly insignificant, as worthy of attention.
"I stand at the door and knock." In whatever way God knocks at the door, I hope that I can be mindful - pay attention - and be present in the moment.

Ring Lake Ranch Prayer

2009-10-06T05:04:00.000-07:00

Holy One, go with us, wherever you may lead us.
Guide us through the wilderness, protect us through the storm.
Bring us home, rejoicing at the wonders you have shown us.
Bring us home, rejoicing, once again, unto our door.

2009-10-05T04:26:00.000-07:00

Fall

2009-10-03T05:57:00.000-07:00

A perfect rainy fall day. Yellow leaves covering the grass. All the colors seem more intense in the wetness. A few birds come to the thistle feeder. It seems quieter in the rain.
The fall is a beautiful season, and yet I often don’t appreciate the beauty because of what it represents – the ebbing of sunlight, shorter days, colder weather. I remember years when the seasonal depression has set in like a thick, heavy almost choking fog.
So a season of beauty turns into a time of dread.
So, this year, I make plans to greet the long winter as a time of possibility and challenge. Stay in better physical shape. Get outside as much as possible while the sun is shining Schedule some time away. A place for painting and plans to rework a couple of pieces of furniture. I’ve already begun, a few weeks ago, to use the light box every morning. Working on my DMin project proposal, which I’m excited about. Cook and eat healthy meals. Enjoy playing with the animals who live in my house.
Above all, enter this season with mindfulness. Focus on what is, and expect the Spirit of God to be present in life giving ways.

More renewal ideas

2009-09-30T14:28:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I listed a few of the things that renewal my spirit. I asked my congregation what renews their spirits. One person replied with this delightful list:

I renew my spirit by making a difference in someone's life while remaining anonymous.

1) Leaving a Dunkin Donuts gift card in a neighbor's mailbox (don't know if they enjoy DD but it's the delight in making someone know they've been thought of that counts).
2) Tipping the guy that pumps my gas (in the rain) a buck.
3) Sending funny birthday cards to people having a tough go of it even though it's not their b-day. Taking a big black marker to the "happy birthday" line. Works every time.
4) Sincerely saying "good job" to the co-worker WHO DRIVES ME BONKERS.
5) Sleeping until 8 on Saturday mornings....I spend from 7-8 laying in bed thanking God for every single blessing of the week. (Yes, I doze in & out of it, but I feel great at 8!)

What wonderful ideas!

Sermon, September 27

2009-09-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

Broccoli Soup

2009-09-28T17:50:00.000-07:00

Broccoli and Bean Soup

I can cannellini beans, drained
1 bunch broccoli
¼ c. olive oil
Broth
1 clove garlic, chopped finely
2 Tbsp parsley
Salt and pepper

Cut ends off broccoli. Pare skin, split stalks.
Bring large saucepan of water to boil. Add 1 tsp. salt and broccoli. Cook 15 mins till very soft. Drain and cut into 1 inch pcs.
Cook garlic in oil till golden. Add parsley and broccoli. Cook 10 mins.
Put 1 ½ cup beans in pan and cook 2 mins. mash remaining beans and add
Add broth to make soup.
Heat thoroughly but do not boil.
Makes 4 servings

prayer

2009-09-28T05:10:00.000-07:00

"Teach me good judgment and knowledge, for I believe in your commandments...you are good and do good: teach me your statutes." (Psalm 119:66,68)
O God, give me an open heart, an open spirit, patience and persistence.

2009-09-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

Pax by D.H. Lawrence

All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.

Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress,
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.

Sleeping on the hearth of the living world
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of the master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.

Tomato Potato Soup

2009-09-25T06:39:00.000-07:00

The garden tomatoes are about at an end. A few days ago, I cooked the last of them, mostly Romas. Cooked them down and put them through the food mill, to make a thin-ish puree. Last night I used that puree to make soup. I began with a recipe from The Enchanted Broccoli Forest and improvised from there.

2 cups of small potatoes, cut in half and thinly sliced.
3/4 cup diced onion
1 cup diced celery
saute these in 1 Tbsp. butter on low heat for about 20 minutes, until soft and beginning to brown.
Add:
4 cups tomato puree
1 tsp. honey
1 tsp. dried basil
1/2 tsp. dried dill weed
1/4 tsp. dried thyme
1 tsp. salt
Cover and cook for about 20 minutes until potatoes are soft.
Add:
2 cups milk.
Heat, but do not boil.

renewal

2009-09-25T06:29:00.000-07:00

What are the things that renew my spirit? Some days, when I'm tired or stressed or unhappy, I have trouble even thinking of what might open some space for the Spirit. I need to be reminded. And I need to expand the possibilities for renewal.
Here's a start:
Taking a mindful walk: paying attention to life and beauty as I go. Not going over a thousand items on the to do list or mentally replaying some conversation or planning dinner.
Playing ball with the dog.
Digging in the garden.
Creating something.
Meditation.
Laughing.
Sitting by the ocean.
The key to all of these is mindfulness. Being in the moment. For that, I need the help of the Spirit.

2009-09-24T05:14:00.001-07:00

The last time I saw her, my spiritual director gave me a new practice: to do something each day that renews me. When she said that, I thought: where's the discipline in that? I had no idea how challenging it would be, especially now that the busy fall season is here. Some days, I put off planning for it and assume the opportunity will arise naturally during the day (and of course, it doesn't). Sometimes, as I reflect at the end of the day, I see that opportunity has arisen and I was too busy or distracted to take advantage of it. Sometimes, I set out with a good intention that quickly disappears. Sometimes, I forget entirely. This will take more thoughtfulness, discipline, intentionality and mindfulness than I anticipated.

2009-09-23T18:32:00.000-07:00

Pearl Grey arrived at the parsonage today. She's a spunky little kitty.

changing seasons

2009-09-23T05:06:00.000-07:00

The equinox has come and summer is gone. Yesterday I moved the potted pink geraniums from their spot in the garden, to be repotted for their eventual move to their wintertime spot in my office. I replaced them with the pots of now leggy annuals that I collected from various places around the yard. The flowers that remain in those pots are mostly dark purples - they seem better suited for the darker days of autumn.
The air is crisp and clear, and fall is beautiful. Still, the daylight hours grow shorter and shorter and I dread the return of the dark and cold days of winter. I wish for two graces: to enjoy the beauty of this season as it unfolds and to look for the beauty and possibilities of the coming cold season.

just do it

2009-09-22T05:20:00.000-07:00

I have been holding this blog in abeyance. Having created it last week, I have been waiting to make the first post, hesitating to actually begin. Waiting for what? For the right words, the well formed thought, the insightful remark, the unpressured block of time.
And this morning, the thought came: just begin. There is no perfect time, there may be no profound thought, no poetic words. Just begin.
It's tempting to put things off until the conditions are perfect, until success seems likely, until the stars are aligned. And yet God is with us in all our beginnings. God does not demand perfection, either in preparation or execution. Just do - go ahead, trusting God.
So here it goes....