i renounce the rules
of lying down and getting up and sitting in the city gate
i renounce the rules
of who may go and who may stay and who may speak about it
rules are not for such as me
who stir the water of complacency
and dance as the sun goes down
karen
I have been witness to the grief of several families recently. No loss is easy, it
doesn’t matter if it is sudden or expected. I am always grateful when families have
had a chance to talk about dying and death and all that implies. So often, people
put that off because it isn’t going to happen tomorrow. But truly, you never know.
Our bodies are not meant to last forever. And even if you are young, you just
cannot count on 50 more years.
So I encourage you, when there is relaxed and spacious amounts of time, when
you are not worried about saying the right thing, to ask a few questions. Here are
the ones I think are most important:
There are no right or wrong answers to those questions, except maybe the last
one. As people have moved away from church life, they are less inclined to want a
full funeral service, and I hear more and more people saying their loved one
wanted nothing at all. Very hard to compromise with that position.
But here is what we need to remember, our funeral or memorial service is not for
us. Those who have died no longer need consolation, they are with their Loving
God, and know only joy. It is those of us who remain that need to support each
other in our grief. And do to that we need to gather. So understand that the right
answer might be anything, as long as it is something. For me, I want a spectacular
church service with beautiful music and a short sermon, I want to be cremated,
and I want my ashes dug into a garden. And I want, instead of a grave, to dedicate
in my honor a park bench in a place where people might need to rest.
Talk about this with people you love. It will make their lives, and your life, so
much easier when they lose you.
Miracles are not magic. They maybe be improbable? They are simply wonderful and joyful. I am a scientist. I am endowed by God with the ability to comprehend existence in quantitative terms, in testable terms, in verifiable terms. I may be able to explain the mechanisms behind a cure for cancer, but it doesn’t lessen the miracle of curing a person of cancer. That is still a miracle! That one soul given life. I think this is the miracle, that after 3.5 billion years of evolution there arose a creature that has the ability to comprehend cancer and can devise a cure for the disease. A creature equally able to comprehend the wonder of God, the giver of existence, that miraculous. That’s the miracle!
The profound LOVE that drives existence, that’s GOD (the creator)! God’s peace to you in this moment.
G.R.W.
Years ago I wrote an article in my parish newsletter. I don’t remember what the topic was but I do remember that it caused a small stir. I used in my article the phrase “Boy, you wouldn’t believe…”. As in you wouldn’t believe how many people showed up or you wouldn’t believe how cold it was. And one of my parish members took offense.
She wrote me an impassioned email about how the use of the word Boy was derogatory toward Black men, that it was a word with a history and I should have known better than to use it that way. She was quite shaming. And when I first read her response I was shocked, a little hurt. As they say, I didn’t mean anything by it. But it dawned on me as time went on that now I knew. I knew that used in a certain context Boy was a hurtful word. And once you know, you can’t ever un-know. Once you have received the wisdom of others, you have to decide how you are going to be changed, and hopefully improved by it.
I think of that incident, and I am grateful. I am grateful someone had the courage to say something to me, and that I was smart enough to know it was true. To hear someone’s story, someone’s heart, is a powerful thing. We don’t do that enough. We don’t ask people to tell us about their lives, how they came to be who they are, what choices and chances led them to this moment. We are, for the most part, not used to listening. And we suffer for it as a country and as a culture.
I think about the young men who mocked the Native American drummer at the Lincoln Memorial. Unfortunately for them the whole world knows about their poor choice, their rudeness. But now that they know, what will they choose? Will they listen? Will they take the hard lessons they have been taught and allow themselves to be transformed? Who will help them with that?
I think about the men who put the noose around Jussie Smollett’s neck in Chicago. They knew full well what they were doing. And if you are horrified by that, by the hate that requires, what are you going to do about it? Because sometimes we learn from the wisdom of others, and sometimes we learn from their mistakes. Now that you know, now that you have seen the deep hatred, can you turn away? Can you just give into the busyness of your life and wait for the next bad thing? I find waiting for something bad to happen much more exhausting than action.
If we don’t take a stand, if we don’t say unacceptable, if we don’t demand change and lead change, we are a part of the problem. We can’t ignore it anymore. It is a race to the bottom and we are all in a lane. I know it is hard to figure out what to do, but I have an invitation, an opportunity to take a stand against racism and hate.
Greater Youngstown Community Dialogue on Racism is about to kick off their 4th set of interracial discussions. You meet with a diverse group for 6 weeks, each meeting lasting 2 hours. You follow a format created by the group Everyday Democracy, which involves telling your story and listening to the story of others. And if you are thinking that you might be a little tired of just talking, at the end every group creates a short term action plan for something good in the community. People who have participated say it is life changing. It is really an amazing process that creates incredible opportunities for relationship.
You are invited to come to St John’s Episcopal Church on February 21 at 6:00 for pizza, information and possibly to join a group. We all have to commit to do something. This is one possible thing. I hope to see you there.
I was scrolling through Facebook this morning when I came across a plea from my friend Scott Barker, the Bishop of Nebraska. He was writing a sermon for an ordination and asked the world what he should say, what was important for a new priest to know??
He got some great responses. Kindness was a favorite. Taking care of oneself, which is always a challenge. A common theme was humility: listening, not taking yourself too seriously, developing community and full parish leadership. Of course prayer was mentioned and cultivating a certain level of detachment, so that it is about God and not anything else. All of these things were lovely and appropriate, and if I know Scott, it will be a great sermon.
And it got me thinking. I was wondering about how we encourage each other in general. What do we say to the person in the pew who gets up every morning and takes on incredible feats of ministry—taking care of aging parents, keeping their integrity in a toxic work environment, driving to work in the midst of snow driven road rage, putting one foot in front of the other in a world that is harder and harder to navigate.
This past weekend members of our congregation joined the Episcopal church, being confirmed or received. They made promises about living out their Christian life, which they know will be hard to keep. They agreed to do that amid a community of caring support and with God’s help. It is a big deal and I admire them, and anyone who makes those promises, so much.
I want to say to you, to you who live a good and faithful life, who think about how to bring Jesus into the world, who work hard to love the unlovable and do justice—I want to say to you, I notice your ministry, I appreciate your hard work. As a priest, I could not be a minister without you.
I want to say thank you for accepting your vocation, for understanding that your life matters. Your. Life. Matters. We all need to believe that and live it. From our hearts. We are in this ministry thing together with all of our gifts and challenges. Thank God for that!!
Once again as a nation we find ourselves in a crisis of compassion. In the wake of the government shutdown, the closing of car plants, the uncertain economy, some of our family and friends are in trouble. And it is in times like these when we are called by whatever we believe in to become more than we are, to be our best selves. It is in times like these we see people’s hearts. And sometimes it is disappointing.
While I have my opinions on all of the crises we face, this is not a political commentary. It is a plea for community. It is an invitation to step up, not to step back, to commit to caring, and to act on it.
Maybe your neighbor is a contractor with the federal government who has no current income. Maybe your mother lives alone and is going to be snowed in. Maybe your cousin is on food stamps because they are developmentally delayed, and they don’t know if they will get food stamps because of the shutdown. Maybe your best friend works at the GM plant and has no clue about their future. I guarantee you that you know someone who is hurting or afraid right now, someone who needs you.
I listen to the news, and I hear the meanness. I hear the judgement. I hear the anger. And I get some of it. People are frustrated, people want change, people want their lives to be safe and healthy and stable. And…in a democracy we cannot achieve those things by putting others at risk or taking away our neighbor’s security. We cannot build our own security or wealth on the insecurity of others. In a democracy we are as secure and stable as the one who is the least secure and stable. We are essentially working against our best interests when we allow others to suffer.
Some people say that it is human nature to judge or put people into categories of us and them. They say that we can’t help it, we have to look down on others to feel good about ourselves. Some people say this country was built on those in power taking from those who are not, that ensuring our own power and advantages are just how things go. Those people who say that are simply wrong. Again, in a democracy, we have a vested interest in each other, and we have to act for the good of everyone.
I know that some hearts will remain closed. But for those of us who believe that we can make a difference, that goodness matters, and that practicing kindness makes us whole, there are some things that we can do.
First, call your neighbors, friends, family who you know are at risk and ask them how you can help. They might have no idea, but the fact that you asked, that they know you are on their team and that they matter to you, sometimes that makes all the difference. Be a supporter!
Second, be nice. Flippant remarks hurt people. Being casual or callous about the suffering of others is cruel. Frankly meanness doesn’t look good on anyone. Thank people who are kind. Say no when you are invited to be mean or when jokes are not funny. Be the example you want to see, or as wisdom tells us, treat other people as you would want to be treated.
Finally, be honest. Most of us are one or two paychecks from disaster. So refrain from judgement. Understand that most people carry sorrows and worries that you do not know about. Life is precious and precarious. You never know what will happen next.
If you are one of those who are suffering, who need help, let someone know. Call the 211 hotline and see what is available in your area. There is help for you. Don’t be afraid to ask for it.
This is a time when we need to pull together, to be the compassion we want to see. Don’t be distracted or seduced by meanness. We need each other. Let’s be the caring community that we know we are.
I have heard Priscilla Hays say these words to me for more years than I can remember. And I don’t know if she knows how important those words are, and how close I hold them to my heart. Her words have been transformative to me, and they remind me, each day that I walk into the St. John’s office, how this place is different than other places. We are about forgiveness.
When I forget something, or mix up my dates on the Eucharistic Minister’s schedule, or my child, a scheduled acolyte, is missing from church that morning, I have Priscilla’s forgiving smile, and we move forward to find a solution together. But this is so much more than finding a substitute acolyte for that morning. It is a reminder to me, to us, that we start from forgiveness, from understanding, from a recognition of our common humanity, our common frailty. Guilt is removed from the equation, so forgiveness and work towards a solution becomes our new mission.
Every time Priscilla says this to me, it takes my breath away. Because I need reminded of this so often. Because I mess up a lot. But more than that, I hear her voice in my head as I wander through my life. I need to remember, “We are all about forgiveness.” Because we mess up—a lot. Especially when we are learning and growing. And families mess up—a lot. Especially when we love each other a whole bunch.
And that is what Jesus asks of us. To love each other a whole bunch. And to begin with forgiveness. We have to be all about forgiveness, because we will mess up, and we need to love our neighbors anyway. We need to love our neighbors because we will mess up; we need to love our neighbors because we need forgiveness.
Priscilla begins each of her interactions with forgiveness and love. What a gift for all that cross our threshold.