Habits of Grace

Habits of Grace, April 28, 2020: Meeting Jesus
An invitation for you, from Presiding Bishop Curry

 
There's an interesting pattern in some of the stories of the resurrection. In Luke 24, for example, some of the followers of Jesus are traveling from Jerusalem itself to the small village of Emmaus a few miles down the road. A stranger comes up to them, walks with them and carries on a conversation with them and all along, the stranger was Jesus raised from the dead. They didn't recognize him. They didn't see that it was Jesus until, as the Bible says, their eyes were open as if they turned and actually saw him in the breaking of the bread and saw him alive.

A similar thing happened to Mary Magdalene in the 20th chapter of John's Gospel, where she is frantically running around looking for his body, and she comes up to someone she mistakes for the gardener in the cemetery. It's actually Jesus raised from the dead. But again, she doesn't recognize him until he speaks, "Mary," the way he always said it and he says though she stopped, and you know how we say did a double take, turned and saw that it was Jesus and cried out, "Rabboni!" That pattern may well be reminding us who hear those stories generations after it all happened that the risen Christ, that the Lord Jesus, that our God, is actually walking with us even when we cannot see, feel or sense his presence. Sometimes we just have to stop, be still, and turn and behold.

Psalm 46 says, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. . . Though the mountains be toppled into the midst of the sea, God is our stronghold.”

Be still and know that I am God.

In a prayer in our prayer book, says much the same thing:

O God of peace who has taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength. By the might of thy spirit, lift us we pray thee to thy presence where we may be still and know that thou art God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Jesus said at the end of Matthew's Gospel, at the end of the messages about the resurrection, "I will be with you always, even to the end of the age."

God love you, God bless you and may God hold us all in those almighty hand of love.

Easter 3 Sermon Online

Lord Jesus, stay with us this morning, be our companion on the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.

As we continue our journey of Easter, may we be open to seeing the resurrected Jesus.

Growing up, I was the only one in my family that didn’t have glasses. I was proud of that fact. I didn’t need them. My older brother and sister had them since they were kids. When I started seminary in California, Ellen noticed I squinted to see the chalkboard, or to read the road signs. One pleasant Saturday afternoon, when Ellen and I were dating, we went for a drive and she wouldn’t tell me where we were going.

We parked the car on a street lined with shops and she still wouldn’t tell me where we were going. She lead me to “Site for Sore Eyes” and had an appointment for my eye exam already set up. An hour after that exam I had my first pair of glasses. I still remember the difference it made. How sharp and clear everything seemed, how I didn’t need to squint to read things. It was a humbling experience but one I needed in order to see so much better, the world was made new.

In our journey of faith, there comes a time when we need to have our eyes opened to God’s work around us, like a new pair of glasses. When we walk our road to Emmaus…

…while Jesus was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him…

A young couple receives the wonderful news: they are pregnant. But their joy soon gives way to fear. Her severe morning sickness debilitates her; her doctor discovers the fetus is in distress and plans for the worst. She is confined to bed for the duration of her pregnancy.

The dad-to-be is overwhelmed by it all and unable, in his eyes, to offer any meaningful help, he buries himself in everything but accomplishes little.

But along the way, their parents — gently and quietly — cover many of the day-to-day details; they check in regularly with encouragement and advice, allaying many of their fears. Co-workers at his office take as many things as they can off his desk. And, under the radar, members of their parish organize to provide supper a few nights a week.

And they manage. After a long, painful, terrifying few months, they welcome their little girl, healthy and whole. And, along the way, the new parents discover again how much they love each other and the beautiful little family they have created. And they realize, too, what their love means to those around them.

We all have our Emmaus-like experiences of fear, confusion, dread, worry. But along the way, Christ makes himself known in our midst in the loving support of family and friends, of our community and parish. Christ travels with us on our own road to Emmaus; Christ is present in the broken bread of compassion we offer and receive from our fellow travelers.

Our Easter faith is to recognize and run into the Risen One in our very midst.

In her book God of Love: A Guide to the Heart of Judaism, Christianity and Islam, writer Mirabai Starr reflects on the many times she unexpectedly ran into . . . God:

“Late at night, you think you hear a knocking at the door of your heart. You peer out the window into the darkness, clutch the folds of your robe. Maybe you imagined it. You begin to head back to bed when the knocking comes again, more urgent now.

“’Excuse me?’ a voice calls. “I’m a little lost. And hungry.’

“You hesitate for a moment longer, measuring habitual caution against an irrational surge of fearlessness. The scales tip and you throw open your heart-door to greet the stranger there.

“’Welcome home,’ you say.

“Only then do you recognize her face. It is God! And she looks exactly like you.

“Then there are the nights when you bolt the door of your heart, stuff wads of silicone in your ears and pop a pill so that nothing can reach you. You would like to be available, but your days are long and your cupboards are bare. You aspire to make each act an offering to the Divine, yet sometimes it is all you can do to take out the garbage without bursting into tears. You wish you could see the face of God in everyone always, but your eyes are clouded by longing and disappointment.

“Besides, the Holy One has a tendency to hide behind preposterous disguises: he is the homeless man lumbering through the park talking to himself in a loud voice, a pint of Cuervo Gold tucked into the back pocket of his jeans; she is the teenager texting her boyfriend and applying mascara at the stoplight after it has turned green; he is the young father gambling away his children’s dinner at the casino on his way home from another day at the sewage treatment plant; she is the elderly woman slowly counting out change at the convenience store when you are late for a job interview; and he is the Very Busy Man who does not give you the job.

“You understand that this is why all the sacred teachings remind us to be vigilant: God could pop up anywhere, anytime, and drop his mask. When he does, we must be sure we have treated him like God, no matter how he was behaving.”

On the roads we travel to whatever Emmaus is our destination, God appears to us in so many different guises, just like he did to those two disciples on the road to Emmaus long ago…

In all of them, God guides us, nudges us, challenges us and confronts us,

· Where are we going?

· What are we seeking on this journey?

· How do we experience meaning and purpose in our lives?

God makes himself known in the poor, the stranger, the troubled, and so calls forth from us the compassion and mercy and peace of his Easter promise. This Easter, may we become the living sign of our resurrected Jesus, in our generosity and kindness to those who travel these Emmaus roads with us; may we realize God walking with us in the peace and forgiveness extended to us by our traveling companions during Covid-19. May our Easter celebration open our hearts and spirits to recognize Christ among us in every moment of our lives, in both the bright promising mornings and the dark terrifying nights. Amen.

Feast Day of April 22: John Muir & Hudson Stuck

April 22: John Muir & Hudson Stuck,
Naturalist & Writer, 1914, Priest & Environmentalist, 1920
From Holy Women, Holy Men 



Born in Scotland in 1838, John Muir immigrated to the United States in 1849, settling in Wisconsin. Muir sought the spiritual freedom of the natural world. As a college student Muir studied botany, of which he later said, “This fine lesson charmed me and sent me flying to the woods and meadows with wild enthusiasm.”

In 1868, Muir arrived in Yosemite Valley, California, which he called “the grandest of all the special temples of nature.” During a hiking trip through the Sierras, Muir developed theories about the development and ecosystem of the areas. Some years later, Muir took up the cause of preservation, eventually co-founding the Sierra Club, an association of environmental preservationists.

Muir, an ardent believer in the national parks as “places of rest, inspiration, and prayers,” adamantly opposed the free exploitation of natural resources for commercial use. This position put him at odds with conservationists who saw natural forests as sources of timber and who wanted to conserve them for that reason.

Muir was influential in convincing President Theodore Roosevelt that federal management and control were necessary to insure the preservation of the national forests. Today, he is revered as an inspiration for preservationists and his life’s work stands as a powerful testament to the majesty and beauty of God’s creation.

Hudson Stuck was an Episcopal priest and explorer. Born in England in 1863, he came to the United States in 1885. He graduated from The University of the South in 1892. From 1894 to 1904, Stuck was Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral in Dallas, Texas. In 1905 he moved to Fort Yukon, Alaska, where he spent the rest of his life, serving as archdeacon of the Diocese of Alaska.

With a group of fellow explorers, Stuck was the first to completely ascend Denali (Mt. McKinley). He later wrote of the experience as a “privileged communion” to be received in awe and wonder. Upon reaching the pinnacle of Denali, Stuck led the climbers in prayer and thanksgiving.

Archdeacon Stuck died in 1920.

Blessed Creator of the earth and all that inhabits it: We thank you for your prophets John Muir and Hudson Stuck, who rejoiced in your beauty made known in the natural world; and we pray that, inspired by their love of your creation, we may be wise and faithful stewards of the world you have created, that generations to come may also lie down to rest among the pines and rise refreshed for their work; in the Name of the one through whom you make all things new, Jesus Christ our Savior, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

From Holy, Women, Holy Men: Celebrating the Saints © 2010 by The Church Pension Fund.

Presiding Bishop invites you to celebrate Earth Day!

Happy Earth Day! Today, marks the 50th Anniversary of the first Earth Day. In this challenging season, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry invites the Church to find hope in God's beautiful creation, and calls on us to care for the Earth and for one another.

This is an invitation to share your story: Where are you seeing hope in God's creation? How are you working to support your community in these trying times? Share your story with #Episcopal #LoveCreation #EarthDay.

We hope that you will head the Presiding Bishop's call, and tune in tomorrow at 8 PM for an Earth Day discussion on creation care, climate change, COVID-19 and Justice. Details below! There are also many other events across the Church this week, some of which have been gathered in a calendar of Earth Day events.

Feeling Inspired? Share your #Episcopal #EarthDay Story!
On Earth Day, we are encouraging Episcopalians to share photos and stories: Where are we seeing life and hope in God’s creation? What actions are we taking right now to clean up, feed, or minister to our communities and to the Earth?

Share your photo on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram

Include a short story or prayer!

And don't forget hashtags: #EarthDay #Episcopal #LoveCreation

HONEST TO GOD: Earth Day Discussion, April 22nd 8 PM EST
In these challenging times, we can take refuge in opportunities to come together (virtually) for reflection and prayer. The Washington National Cathedral and the Episcopal Presiding BIshop's Office are hosting a virtual Earth Day Discussion:

HONEST TO GOD: Earth Day Discussion, April 22nd 8 PM EST Discussion hosted by the Reverend Canon Stephanie Spellers, Canon to the Presiding Bishop for Evangelism, Reconciliation and Creation,on healing the earth in honor of the fiftieth anniversary of Earth Day with special guests Reverend Traci Blackmon, Reverend Margaret Bullitt-Jonas and Bishop David Rice reflecting on the urgency of collective, inspired, and loving action to end the climate crisis.

Watch the dicussion on Facebook Live at https://www.facebook.com/WNCathedral/

Looking for more virtual Earth Day events? Thanks to the wonderful work of TryTank, we have an interactive calendar with virtual events planned by Episcopalians across the Church!

Add your own virtual service or event: Add the event to the Earth Day page of the Church Digital Guide: https://www.digitalchurchguide.com/earthday.html.

Are you engaging in a non-event practice or ministry for Earth Day? Please reply to this email with the details, and we'll do our best to spread the word about your effort!

Prayers for Healing and the Earth
"Lord, the wounds of the world are too deep for us to heal. We lift up the sick in body and mind as well as the withered in soul and spirit. We lift up the victims of greed and injustice as well as the prisoners of grief and heartache. We ask for your care and mercy upon all of us. Instill compassion within us for those suffering from injustice. Make us generous with the resources you have entrusted to us. Let your work of rescue be done in us and through us all."
- Prayer from Creation Justice Ministries' Earth Day 2020 Resource

“We're sitting on our blessed Mother Earth from which we get our strength and determination, love and humility - all the beautiful attributes that we've been given. So turn to one another; love one another; respect one another; respect Mother Earth; respect the waters - because that's life itself!”
- Phil Lane Sr., Yankton Sioux
Contributed by Staff Officer for Racial Reconciliation Shaneequa BrokenLeg

"That same wave of Easter hope fills Christians today and it will sustain us now. Even now, as we walk together through the valley of the shadow of death, acknowledging our fears and grieving what – and whom – we’ve lost, we know that the Lord of life is with us. The day will come, once this pandemic is behind us, when we can return very actively and publicly to building a world in which human beings live in right relationship with each other and with the Earth. What would it look like if we emerged from this pandemic with a fierce new commitment to take care of each other and the whole of God’s Creation?"
- Rev. Margaret Bullitt-Jonas, from her sermon Arise to new life: Easter for Earth and for all

Pushing guns during a pandemic

from Bishops United Against Gun Violence

(RNS) — In the midst of one plague, we are sowing the seeds of another.

As our nation struggles to contain the COVID-19 pandemic, gun sales are surging. Such sales are always seasonal, but according to the FBI’s analysis of data from licensed gun stores, Americans bought 1 million more guns last month than are normally sold at this time of year.

Indeed, the nation’s licensed gun sellers moved more merchandise in March than in any month in recent history, save for January 2013, the month after the mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School, and the month in which President Barack Obama was inaugurated for his second term. According to a Newsy/Ipsos survey, 1 in 20 households has purchased a gun in response to the pandemic.

As bishops of the Episcopal Church, we are concerned that the proliferation of weapons in our society will result not in greater safety, but in greater violence.

The reasons for this surge are easily understood, but they are troubling nonetheless. People fear a breakdown in the social order. People fear that virus-depleted law enforcement agencies will respond more slowly to calls for help. People fear that nonviolent offenders released from prisons where the pandemic is spreading rapidly will turn to crime when they are free.

But every gun purchase comes with attendant risk, especially during this time when most U.S. residents are being asked to stay at home.

A 2014 review in the Annals of Internal Medicine concluded that having a firearm in the home, even when properly stored, triples the risk a resident of the home will die by suicide. This is a particular concern at a time of social isolation and economic uncertainty.

About 4.5 million women report being threatened by a partner with a gun. Abused women are five times more likely to be killed if their abuser has a firearm. These numbers suggest that women sheltering with gun-owning abusers are in greater danger than ever.

A 2015 study in the Journal of Urban Health estimated as many as 4.6 million children in America live in homes with unsecured guns, and children are home all day now because schools are not in session.

Bishops United Against Gun Violence, the network we represent, supports a number of commonsense gun reforms that enjoy high levels of bipartisan support. Our agenda includes background checks on all gun purchasers, handgun purchaser licensing, restrictions on gun ownership by domestic abusers and safe storage of firearms.

Our country would be a safer place today if these policies were in effect. Yet in this moment of mutual need, we are troubled to find the National Rifle Association stoking fears of social disintegration to sell more guns. The NRA’s aggressive lobbying to keep gun stores open while other businesses are closed, coupled with its litigious response to governors who have not granted them this privileged status, makes it clear, once again, that it values the interest of gun manufacturers over the safety of our country.

Legislation that could help protect lives is long overdue but unlikely to be enacted while Congress is rightly occupied by the COVID-19 pandemic. So we write today not only as advocates, but as pastors, imploring you to keep yourself and your loved ones safe.

Just as you take care to protect yourself against infection in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, so we urge you to protect yourself and your loved ones from circumstances in which gun violence is likely to occur.

If you have a gun in your home, is it properly secured? If your child is visiting other homes, do you know whether a gun is present and whether it is secured?

Are you aware of someone forced to shelter with a potentially violent family member? What can you do to help this person stay safe? Do you know someone suffering from depression that might be heightened by the sense of powerlessness that affects us all during this pandemic? How can you help to ease this isolation?
As advocates, we remain committed to revising our country’s appallingly lax gun laws. We lament the current surge in gun purchases, and we urge you to join us in mitigating the violence that accompanies it through small but courageous acts of attention, compassion and concern.

(Bishops Ian Douglas of Connecticut, Daniel Gutiérrez of Pennsylvania and Steven Miller of Milwaukee are co-conveners of Bishops United Against Gun Violence, a network of more than 100 Episcopal bishops that advocates policies and legislation to reduce the number of people in the United States killed or wounded by gunfire. Bishop Mark Beckwith is a founding co-convener. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of Religion News Service.)

yom hashoah 2020 #HolocaustRemembranceDay

Almighty God, our Refuge and our Rock, your loving care knows no bounds and embraces all the peoples of the earth: Defend and protect those who fall victim to the forces of evil, and as we remember this day those who endured depredation and death because of who they were, not because of what they had done or failed to do, give us the courage to stand against hatred and oppression, and to seek the dignity and well-being of all for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ, in whom you have reconciled the world to yourself; and who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Easter 2 Children's Sermon Online

The Godly Play class moves towards the Mystery of Easter by taking 7 classes to hear the stories of Jesus’ journey to the cross and resurrection. Using 7 pictures of Christ, it all begins…

Jesus’ Birth & Grown (I)

In the beginning a baby was born. God chose Mary to be his mother. And the Mother Mary & Father Joseph kept the baby close and gave that baby everything he needed to grow.

Jesus is Lost & Found (II)

The baby grew and became a boy. When Jesus was around 12, he accompanied Mary & Joseph and many others from Nazareth to Jerusalem for one of the high holy days. After the celebration, the Nazareans went home through the great high gate, but Jesus was not there. Mary & Joseph searched for him & finally found him in the temple with the rabbis/priests. "Didn't you know I would be in my father's house?"

Jesus’ Baptism & Blessing by God (III)

Jesus grew and became a man, and around the age of 30 was baptized in the river Jordan by his cousin, John. He didn’t want to, but Jesus persuaded him and as he came out of the waters, they saw a dove and heard a voice, "this is the beloved." Jesus then went into the desert, where he stayed 40 days & nights to learn more about who he was and what his work is going to be.

Jesus’ Desert & Discovery Experience (IV)

In the desert there was little to eat or drink and there he was tempted: stones to bread, jump to test God, King over all kingdoms. Jesus said, No to all the temptations. After this, he went back across the Jordan to do his work.

Jesus as Healer & Parable-Maker (V)

His work was to come close to people, especially those no one else wanted to come close to. Healing the blind man. When Jesus came close to people, they changed, they became well. He also told parables to the people.

Jesus offers the Bread & Wine (VI)

Jesus went to Jerusalem one last time. As he rode a humble donkey, he was greeted by people waving palm branches, laying down branches and their garments on the road. In an upper room, the disciples and Jesus shared a last meal. Jesus took some bread and wine and gave it to them, each time telling them whenever they gather, to break bread and drink wine, to do it in remembrance of him.

The One who was Easter & Still Is (VII)

After supper, Jesus went with his disciples to Gethsemane, there he was betrayed, arrested and taken to Jerusalem for his trial. That next day, outside the city walls, Jesus was crucified. Afterwards, he was laid in a tomb. On Sunday, they went to the tomb, found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. Jesus who died on the cross, had arisen, and was still with them, esp. in the bread and wine.

One side of the picture is Easter, the other crucifixion. You cannot take them apart, you cannot have one without the other and that is the mystery of Easter.

And that is where the story remembers Thomas, doubting Thomas. Always the last to know. But Thomas is important for you and me. He wants to experience Jesus. The others had, they had seen Jesus, experienced him after the cross. Thomas would not believe until he has own experience. A second time, Jesus appears to the disciples, the doors are shut (a week before they were locked) but there Jesus is with them. He shows Thomas his hands and his sides. Touch ‘em. Don’t doubt but believe. Jesus says. My Lord and my God, says Thomas.

In this Eastertide, as we experience Spring bursting forth, let us remember Christ who burst from the tomb, who entered into a room through locked and shut doors, all to help others know that he is arisen. At every Eucharist we gather together, Christ is here with us and we know him in the breaking of the bread and in the Scriptures from his birth, through his life, death and resurrection. Christ is Risen. Alleluia! Amen.

Easter 2 Sermon Online

Risen Lord, in bursting from the tomb you have broken the power of death and fear and we see there is no darkness that can overcome your light and your love. Breathe into our lives the wonder of your saving glory, that our song may ever be your Alleluia. Amen. (Ian Black)

The doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked in fear…
Fear. It controlled the disciples. Ever since Jesus’ arrest, they lived in fear. Fear of arrest. Fear of what might come next.

On that first Easter night, even with the words of Mary Magdalene that he is risen still ringing in their heads, the male disciples locked themselves away in fear.

And Jesus stood among them – Peace be with you.

In the midst of fear, Jesus offers peace.

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer observes, “"Peace be with you"—that means: he who himself is this peace, Jesus Christ, the crucified and resurrected, is with you. The word and sign of the living Lord brings the disciples joy. Community with the Lord, after anxious, dark days, has been found again.”

In that moment, the disciples had some joy. Had some peace. They even told Thomas about what had happened while he wasn’t with them. But it didn’t last…

When they gather again, the next week. The doors are again locked. Old habits die hard. Fear was still there, and this time Thomas was with them.

Again, Jesus comes among them and he says, Peace be with you. And he shows Thomas his wounds.

Do not doubt but believe. Jesus says to Thomas. And Thomas does. But those words could easily be said to the disciples who were still in the grip of fear.

Do not doubt, do not be afraid, live into my peace.

Fear is so controlling that even after they had seen Jesus, they still locked the doors.

It is easy in our time to live in fear. Fear of the stranger. Fear of a deadly virus. Fear of losing control. Fear for what might come.

Jesus comes to bring peace to our lives and to our world. But I wonder if we have lost sight of him.

So much angst in our country right now is centered around “the freedom from any constraint/the ability to do whatever I want and Christian freedom which is liberation from the self for the sake of God and neighbor.” (from Bp. Matt Gunter) Freedom to stay home, stay safe for the sake of others and ourselves.

Again from Bonhoeffer: "In the language of the Bible, freedom is not something man has for himself but something he has for others . . . In truth, freedom is a relationship between two persons. . . Being free means 'being free for the other', because the other has bound me to him. Only in relationship with the other am I free." (Creation and Fall)

We are called by Jesus, to not live in fear but to live in peace, to be free to love others and our God.

Christine Kingery will never forget her grandmother’s stories. She shared some of them on the NPR series This I Believe.

Christine’s Russian-born grandmother was captured by the Nazis and taken to a work camp in Germany when she was 17. They shaved off her waist-length hair and tortured her. She never saw her parents or siblings again. The resourceful young woman escaped the camp and worked for many months as a nurse in underground movements in Germany and Belgium until she was captured a second time by the Nazis and taken to a concentration camp. There she met Christine’s grandfather, and the two escaped. Eventually, they and their newborn-daughter — Christine’s mother — came to America.

Christine remembers hearing these stories when she was eight years old. She said to her grandmother, “I hate the Germans for what they did to you! Don’t you just get so mad at them?”

Christine never forgot her grandmother’s response. She said in her broken English, “The Germans are my friends. When I escaped and had nowhere to go, the Germans gave me food, shelter, and clothes. They were my friends even in the camps. The Germans are the kindest people I know.”

Her answer shocked Christine. It was her first introduction to the meaning of compassion.

A few years later, when Christine was in high school, she had the chance to go to Japan. She visited Nagasaki, the city where the US dropped its second atomic bomb in WW II. The experience was overwhelming. In every photograph, in every Japanese victim’s face in the museum’s exhibits, she saw her grandmother’s reflection. Christine had to go outside to Peace Park on the bomb-site grounds. Beautiful colorful origami cranes — thousands of them — were draped over statues and trees. Christine sat on a bench and cried and cried. An old Japanese woman saw the teenager on the bench. She was about her grandmother’s age. She sat next to Christine and put her wrinkled hands in Christine’s. In broken English, the old woman said, “Peace starts right here. Peace starts with you and me. It starts today.”

On Easter night, the Risen Christ gives his disciples the gift of peace, a peace that is so much more than the absence of conflict. The peace of Christ transforms, re-creates and renews; it is a peace centered in compassion, wisdom, integrity and an attitude of thanksgiving.

It is a peace born of gratitude and humility, peace that values the hopes and dreams and needs of another over one’s own, peace that welcomes back the lost, heals the brokenhearted, and respects the dignity of every man, woman and child as a son and daughter of God. May we embrace the gift of such transforming peace in this Easter season and resist the influence of fear on our lives. For Christ is risen and his peace rests with you and me. Amen.

Earth Day & Wendell Berry

taken from saltproject.org

Wendell Berry, Good Friday, and Earth Day

The Christian cross can be approached from many angles, and this year, as we prepare to observe the 50th anniversary of Earth Day on April 22, it makes perfect sense to approach it ecologically - with Wendell Berry as our guide.

First, here’s Berry’s Sabbath poem, “II, 1988, ‘It is the destruction of the world’” - a fitting poem for Good Friday.

It is the destruction of the world
in our own lives
that drives us half insane, and more than half.
To destroy that which we were given
in trust: how will we bear it?
It is our own bodies that we give
to be broken,
our bodies existing before and after us
in clod and cloud, worm and tree,
that we, driving or driven, despise
in our greed to live, our haste
to die. To have lost, wantonly,
the ancient forests, the vast grasslands
in our madness, the presence
in our very bodies of our grief.

Here Berry understands any destruction of the world to be, in the end, self-destruction: a form of despising the world that ultimately means despising ourselves and each other. At its root, it’s an abdication of our proper role, identity, and mission: “To destroy that which we were given / in trust: how will we bear it?”

Berry takes this to be a “religious” question - though, as he puts it in his classic essay, “A Native Hill,” he’s uncomfortable saying so.

“I am uneasy with the term,” he writes, “for such religion as has been openly practiced in this part of the world has promoted and fed upon a destructive schism between body and soul, Heaven and earth... And so people who might have been expected to care most selflessly for the world have had their minds turned elsewhere - to a pursuit of 'salvation' that was really only another form of gluttony and self-love, the desire to perpetuate their lives beyond the life of the world. The Heaven-bent have abused the earth thoughtlessly, by inattention, and their negligence has permitted and encouraged others to abuse it deliberately. Once the creator was removed from the creation, divinity became only a remote abstraction, a social weapon in the hands of the religious institutions.”

And then Berry turns to his crucial point: “This split in public values produced or was accompanied by, as it was bound to be, an equally artificial and ugly division in people’s lives, so that a man, while pursuing Heaven with the sublime appetite he thought of as his soul, could turn his heart against his neighbors and his hands against the world. For these reasons, though I know that my questions are religious, I dislike having to say that they are.”

In other words, for Berry, there’s a deep unity between a) any malformed religion that divides “body and soul, Heaven and earth,” and b) an “artificial and ugly division” in our lives that allows us to turn against our neighbors, against the world, and against ourselves.

This Good Friday, if we see through Berry’s eyes, this “artificial and ugly division” is on display in the crucifixion. We betray and mock and destroy the Maker of creation, thereby setting ourselves destructively over against creation - which includes, of course, our own kind. In our “greed” and “haste,” as Berry puts it in the poem, we “despise” ourselves. One of Jesus’ ancient names is “Son of Humanity,” or “The Human One.” In effect, when we hang Jesus on the cross, we hang Humanity on the cross. Our violence is self-inflicted. The cross is suicide.

But at the same time, when we kill Jesus, we also kill the Logos, as the Gospel of John puts it, God’s “Word,” the underlying pattern of life and love and beauty running in and through everything. We kill “the bread of life,” in Jesus’ turn of phrase; we kill “the resurrection and the life.” In short, we kill Life. The cross is biocide.

And yet, with almost unimaginable mercy and compassion, God steps into this ugly, divisive choreography - to save us from self-destruction. God takes our place, and dies. And in the crucifixion itself, like a mirror for all to see, God lays bare not only divine mercy, but also what we’ve done - or rather, what we are continuing to do. This mirror isn’t meant to shame us; rather, it’s meant to move us, to change us, to wake us up and send us out along a different path, leaving suicide and biocide behind. God gracefully forgives, and calls us to return to the Way of Life.

In the destruction of Christ’s body, if we look deeply enough, we can see our suicidal, biocidal attempts at “the destruction of the world.” And in our destruction of the world, past and present, if we look deeply enough, we can see the crucifixion.

Easter morning will come. And ten days later, the 50th anniversary of Earth Day will follow. Another opportunity to rise from ashes, to turn away from the tomb, to turn toward life, sanity, humanity, love - all of that is on the way. But first, Good Friday is for reckoning with what we have lost, wantonly, for reflecting on what we have done and left undone. It’s a day for feeling, and naming, and facing “the presence / in our very bodies of our grief.”

+ Matthew Myer Boulton

St. Julian & the Pandemic

Some helpful articles and links for us during this pandemic:

What a self-isolating medieval mystic can teach us

Coronavirus: advice from the Middle Ages for how to cope with self-isolation

Made, Loved, Kept - Praying with Julian of Norwich and the Hazelnut. 7-pages.  Introduction, 3 meditations and guide on reflections of Julian of Norwich. You Tube Videos here.

Easter Sunday Sermon

O Loving God, by the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ on that first Easter Sunday, you conquered sin, put death to flight, and gave us the hope of everlasting life: Redeem all our days by this victory; forgive our sins, banish our fears, make us bold to praise you and to do your will; and steel us to wait for the consummation of your kingdom on the last great Day; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Andrew was watching his father, a priest, write a sermon for the Easter service.
'How do you know what to say?' Andrew asked. 'Why, God tells me', his father replied.
Andrew thought about it then said, 'Oh, then why do you keep crossing things out?'

On Good Friday, we thought it was death, despair, isolation, brokenness.

But God has crossed out all of that and has written in love and life!

When Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go to see the tomb that first Easter morning, they anticipated the stench of death. They had watched from a distance Jesus die on the cross. They watched Joseph of Arimathea & Nicodemus bury him in a tomb. Now they were going as their faith dictated. They did not anticipate that a great earthquake would happen and an angel of the Lord would sit on the stone which was rolled back! But then it happened, and the angel said to them: Do not be afraid. Remember what he said! - He is not here – he has been raised – go and tell the disciples – he will see them in Galilee. And they leave with both joy & fear for what has taken place.

When they encounter Jesus along the path back to the disciples, Jesus says to them, do not be afraid and go & tell. Easter is here, be free from the fear, go and tell others, live, Jesus says to them.

God has crossed out death and has written love and life!

It may seem to us, as we continue to live isolated by Covid-19, a hard thing to celebrate today. Easter and life.

But the Church has lived through pandemics before and proclaimed he is risen!

Julian of Norwich wrote around 1373: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” And that can seem to be some pie in the sky understanding of life, but Julian knew death and plague and social distancing.

When Julian was about 6 the Black Death (a bubonic plague pandemic) reached Norwich, England. By one estimate, the plague killed about 1/3 of the residents of the city. Such pandemics would continue to come back for the next couple of centuries wavering in their severity and the numbers infected.

Sadly, one of the side effects of these constant pandemics, was the fear of contagion, and the blame was laid at the feet of minorities, religious minorities like the Jewish people, as well as racial minorities who were attacked and blamed for the plagues. Today, we see such nonsense in our fears, blaming certain minorities, even as we supposedly understand how (bacteria and) viruses work.

Do not be afraid. The angel said to the women at the tomb. Do not be afraid said Jesus to the women heading back to tell the disciples.

Do not be afraid Jesus says to us today as we stay home and keep our space away from others.

For God has crossed out death and has written love and life!

We don’t know much about Julian’s life, it is believed she was a widowed mother, who might have lost her family in one of the plagues. She then became an anchorite (a type of hermit) and lived at St. Julian’s Church in Norwich. She lived in a cell separated from others.

Dr Janina Ramirez, author of Julian of Norwich: A Very Brief History, said: "Julian was living in the wake of the Black Death, and around her repeated plagues were re-decimating an already depleted population. I think she was self-isolating. The other anchorites would have understood that by removing themselves from life this would not only give them a chance of preserving their own life but also of finding calm and quiet and focus in a chaotic world. I have never felt she was more relevant."

When Julian turned 30, she became very sick, and last rights were given to her. But on her bed she was given a gift from God, she had a series of visions from God. She recovered from her sickness and the Revelations of Divine Love were written down first in 1373 and later a longer text by 1393. The earliest surviving book in the English Language written by a woman.

What amazes me, is the comfort she had in those visions. She had suffered so much in her life, and yet what God gave her was an Easter proclamation about divine life and love.

Christ did not say, ‘You shall not be perturbed, you shall not be troubled, you shall not be distressed,’ but he said, ‘You shall not be overcome.’ – Julian professed in her writing.

But she also saw the love God gave to creation…

And in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazel nut, lying in the palm of my hand, as it seemed. And it was as round as any ball. I looked upon it with the eye of my understanding, and thought, 'What may this be?' And it was answered generally thus, 'It is all that is made.'

I marveled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen to nothing for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts and ever shall, for God loves it. And so have all things their beginning by the love of God. In this little thing I saw three properties. The first is that God made it. The second that God loves it. And the third, that God keeps it. But what is this to me? (from Revelations to Divine Love)

God has crossed out death and has written love and life for God made it. God loves it. God keeps it.

So what might this say to us celebrating Easter in the midst of Covid-19, of a feeling we are still living our tombs?

On that dark morning, long ago, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary left to see the tomb. But it was empty. Even in our separation, we must not let the tomb define us.

Do not be afraid.

Julian wrote from her vision… All shall be well, all shall be well... For there is a Force of love moving through the universe That holds us fast and will never let us go.

She had seen the worst of life and death, but also had seen God in the midst of it all, still loving her and that truth is still true today.

‘Do you want to understand your Lord’s meaning in this experience? Understand it well: love was his meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Hold yourself in this truth and you shall understand and know more in the same vein…

God has crossed out death and has written on that Eater Sunday long ago:

Life and love.

And in this time of pandemic, God is still with us, still writing love and life even in the midst of death and separation.

Our faith means more than ever that we shout out that truth:

Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Amen.

Good Friday Sermon

O Lord, by your wounded hands: teach us diligence and generosity.
By your wounded feet: teach us steadfastness and perseverance.
By your wounded and insulted head: teach us patience, clarity and self-mastery.
By your wounded heart: teach us charity and love,
O Master and Savior. Teach us love. Amen. (adapted from Daphne Fraser)

Good Friday is about leaning into the wounded Christ. The one so violently beaten and abused. He becomes the broken Christ on the cross, alone to die. What could have been such love and hope on Maundy Thursday that ends with betrayal, denial and defeat. Lots of images represent that brokenness – a crucifix with Jesus on the cross or a plain wooden cross, remind us of what happened.

In 2018, I came across an image of what is called El Cristo Roto – the Broken Christ – it is a Good Friday image and an image for me of what is happening with Covid-19. Brokenness.

“Broken Christ” (Cristo Roto) is located on an island in the town of San José de Gracia, Aguascalientes, in México. It is a concrete and steel sculpture of Christ, as if he were hanging on a cross, without one arm and missing part of a leg, a mutilated Christ without a cross.

Beneath the 92 foot high statue is a plaque:

“Leave me broken…
I’d like that when you look at me broken like this,
you’d remember many of your brothers and sisters
who are broken, poor, indigent, oppressed, sick, mutilated…
Without arms: because they are incapacitated, left without any means to work;
without feet: because they are impeded to walk their way;
without face: because they have been robbed of their honor and prestige.
They are forgotten… those who see them turn away
since they are like me – a broken Christ!”

A broken Christ. Heart wrenching. And in this time of Covid-19, we see it all around us. Some much suffering. So much separation. So much brokenness in our world today:  people who are often forgotten. mutilated, infected. Suffering and dying away from loved ones.

That statue like or commemoration of Good Friday itself makes us uncomfortable and it should. Broken and alone Christ dies on the cross for the world. But we cannot leave it as something long ago. So many today live Good Friday lives as that Broken Christ tells us.

It is heartbreaking. But what we do with that heart ache is so important. As the author & Quaker Parker Palmer put it this way…

“Heartbreak is an inevitable and painful part of life. But there are at least two ways for the heart to break: it can break open into new life, or break apart into shards of sharper and more widespread pain.

A brittle heart will explode into a thousand pieces, and sometimes get thrown like a fragment grenade at the perceived source of its pain — there’s a lot of that going around these days.

But a supple heart will break open into a greater capacity to hold life’s suffering and its joy — in a way that allows us to say, “The pain stops here.”

The broken-open heart is not restricted to the rare saint. I know so many people whose hearts have been broken by the loss of someone they loved deeply. They go through long nights of grief when life seems barely worth living. But then they slowly awaken to the fact that their hearts have become more open, compassionate, and welcoming — not in spite of their pain but because of it.

So here’s a question I like to ask myself: What can I do day-by-day to make my heart more supple?

In her poem, Lead, Mary Oliver invites us into that heartbreak — not because she wants us to wallow in suffering, but to help us become more open and responsive to our suffering world.” (An Invitation to Heartbreak and the Call of the Loon by Parker J. Palmer)

Lead by Mary Oliver

Here is a story
to break your heart.
Are you willing?
This winter
the loons came to our harbor
and died, one by one,
of nothing we could see.
A friend told me
of one on the shore
that lifted its head and opened
the elegant beak and cried out
in the long, sweet savoring of its life
which, if you have heard it,
you know is a sacred thing,
and for which, if you have not heard it,
you had better hurry to where
they still sing.
And, believe me, tell no one
just where that is.
The next morning
this loon, speckled
and iridescent and with a plan
to fly home
to some hidden lake,
was dead on the shore.
I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.

May the God of mercy, forgive us when we have shied away from heartache and pain in our world. May God break our hearts open, never to close again to the rest of the world, so that El Cristo Roto, the Broken Christ, Jesus our Lord & Savior, may help us reach out to the forgotten & broken among us and to bring the brokenness of our world in Covid-19 to the love that God has so graciously given us. Amen.

Racism & Covid-19

Please take the time to read this...
from americamagazine.org
 
When the racist response to Covid-19 hits home by Ricky Manalo
March 30, 2020

I was out for an evening walk on Monday, March 16, the very first day President Trump used the term “Chinese virus” to describe the new coronavirus, Covid-19. An enormous, black pick-up truck pulled up beside me. At first, I ignored the pulsing and blaring radio that sought to defy its closed windows. The air was thick and cold. I tried to focus on my walk, but within seconds the side window lowered and, over the deafening music, a man began shouting at me, “Virus!... Asian virus!” More words followed, but they all jumbled together in seeming slow motion as my instinctive fear took over amid the racial slurs being hurled my way. At first, I froze. Then, as the man continued to taunt me, I ran into the closest shelter I could find, a nearby liquor store.

Somehow, I felt the need to justify my sudden presence to the person behind the counter, so I asked a question, one I still cannot remember. On one level, it didn’t matter what I said, as the loud music and angry voices continued to penetrate into the shop. I stood in silence for what seemed like 10 minutes, but was probably only 30 seconds. At last, the truck drove away. I began to breathe more fully. With the truck finally gone, reality set back in: I was a victim of a verbal assault and the target of racial slurs, words I never imagined would be hurled at me.

The author George Fredrickson, in his book Racism: A Short History, calls xenophobia “a term invented by the ancient Greeks to describe a reflexive feeling of hostility to the stranger or Other.” The term and the feelings associated with it have spread far and wide, and Asians, among many other ethnic cultural groups, have long endured xenophobia and racism in the United States. Our history includes the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 and the U.S. internment camps filled with Japanese Americans during World War II. Today, the flames of this racism are stoked by President Trump’s insistence on calling Covid-19 the “Chinese virus,” regardless of the term’s accuracy. His decision to do so fuels the stress and anger of those looking for someone to blame.

The psychologist Ravi Chandra captured this insight well in a recent article in Psychology Today. He writes:
 

[W]hen some individuals feel insecure and threatened, they can feel more powerful by blaming and victimizing others. This bluster is superficial and shallow, and does nothing to make us safe. In fact, the president’s racism is paired with his putting the country on “war footing.” This should ring alarm bells. Racist words from the top lead to racist actions by those disinhibited by the president’s rhetoric and dog whistles. Could they lead to actual war, and further actions against Asian Americans? Honestly, can you imagine Asian Americans feeling safe with words like this from the President?

I, too, believe that the unwise use of words can lead to violence against Asian-Americans or anyone, whether that is their intent or not; I have experienced it firsthand. And no, I do not feel safe as a result of this incident.

Words matter. And the words I wish I had said as I was being taunted on the street are: “I am not an ‘Asian virus.’ I am a human being—a Roman Catholic, Filipino-American, Paulist priest, who was born in Brooklyn.”

I am not an ‘Asian virus.’ I am a human being.

Words matter because of the power they yield. This is one of the first concepts taught by professors of liturgy. I explained this to my students when I was teaching at Santa Clara University in California, always warning them, “Use words wisely!” Our Christian tradition of recognizing the power of words can be traced back to the Old Testament. God spoke us into being in the story of creation. In Psalm 33 we hear: “Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the inhabitants of the world stand in awe before God. For God spoke, and it came to be; God commanded, and it stood firm.” And let us not forget the words of the prophets. The word prophet comes from the Greek word prophetes: “Pro” means “before, in front of,” and the root of phanai means “to speak.”

Words matter because God’s words and God’s actions were inseparable from each other. As the theologian Mary Catherine Hilkert, O.P., reminds us in her book Naming Grace:
In the minds of the biblical authors God’s mighty actions and God’s word were so closely connected that they had only one word for both—dabar. That word carried a sense of energy of dynamism, like something that pushes or drives one forward. The word of God carried the power of God. It was creative; it brought forth what it promised.

Today, I went for my daily walk wearing black sunglasses, a hat and a scarf. The weather was not that cold, but since the day of the incident I have felt compelled to shroud my ethnicity and particularly my eyes from any potential racist attacks. I have traveled all over the world, yet I have never felt the need to shield my eyes until now, in New York, the city of my birth.

There are no words to sufficiently capture these moments of uncertainty or to soothe my feelings of violation and fear.

As I stood in front of the Lincoln Center plaza, nearly empty and just three blocks from St. Paul the Apostle Church, where I now live, I stared at the grandeur of the Metropolitan Opera House. The Met had only recently announced that it would cancel the remainder of its season. In the unusual stillness, Aaron Copland’s orchestral piece “Quiet City” crept into my head. That I heard only the sounds of these instruments seemed especially appropriate in the moment: I had no words. There are no words to sufficiently capture these moments of uncertainty or to soothe my feelings of violation and fear.

But there will be. New words are needed. These words I write, which give voice to my experience have power but not the power to destroy that was displayed toward me. I hope these words are life-giving. That is what we need as a country, as a global community: words that hold the power to heal beyond hatred, beyond fear, beyond division, beyond anxiety and well beyond our fight against Covid-19.