A reflection on the readings for Epiphany 4 by The Rev. Crystal Karr who is exhausted from tending to a dying parishioner - and when exhausted she thinks in poetic phrases instead of full sentences (prayers Crystal)....
Once upon a time
Woman was cast out for being uppity, sassy
and making a scene.
You can’t simply declare that we should listen to you!
You can’t stand and scream
“respect my authoritaaay!”
as though you were a cartoon!
No, no authority has been given to you
Woman.
Book learnin’ that’s what you need
book learnin’ and cajones.
A room of one’s own
to read, write, reflect.
Logic and reason, book smarts.
It’s not what you do
raising a child, preparing a poultice,
of mud and spit.
Sacrifices are nothing
because neither are you.
Then one day a man
came to town.
He spoke and the people were in awe.
They said he spoke with authority.
Book learnin’ suddenly lost
its appeal,
casting out demons, healing, serving
loving the outcasts, touching the lepers
this man turned things upside down.
But only for a little while.
Those men in charge, educated men
whose lives were spent eating sleeping interpreting books
became tired of his intuition, his words of love
of mutuality.
The bastard had the audacity to speak with Woman,
to touch her, and to claim to be
God’s son, the demons cry out when they see him,
do they know him, because he is one of them as well?
These were the whispers that betrayed him.
And yet
centuries later
Different sets of whispers began to shimmer in the wind
whispers of a man named Jesus,
whispers of mutuality
whispers of intuition
whispers of strength through relationship
whispers of a different authority
even fainter lighter whispers
of women
of respect
of cooperation
of care for the least
of liberation
but still
just whispers that ride on the wind.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Epiphany 3B
Reflection for Epiphany 3B on Jonah 3:1-5 and 10 Mark 1:14-20 by The Rev. Dr. Kate Hennessy
Call stories. Get any vocationally-minded group of folks together and you will eventually hear them. “When I first suspected God was calling me to…” “How I had that sense I was supposed to....go there, do that, be this…..and knew somehow that God was in the mix, that it was God’s will, plan, dream, demand….” depending on how they talk about these things….And if you were to be listening in on these conversations, the responses you hear may or may not be the ones you would expect. Many times as you hear the story told you will hear that the response to this call was…”um, no thanks”…. Or “Oh, God, I don’t think you mean me….surely you must be mistaken. Or, “God….you must have me mixed up with someone who is truly suited for the task….someone brighter or better or stronger or holier” Truth be told, most of us are much more Jonah than Simon and Andrew and James and John when it comes to being called by God. We are much more likely to be on the next boat heading off in the other direction than we are to drop everything and take off immediately after someone who says “come and follow me.” We don’t feel worthy. We don’t feel ready. Or we just don’t want to. We aren’t inclined to drop everything or add anything or risk anything. Life is fine just as it is. Jonah was called by God to go save some people he did not like from complete and total destruction. Imagine. Call up in your mind your worst enemy if you have one. Perhaps someone who has done you a grievous wrong. Someone who has hurt you or someone you love. Or maybe just someone who is so foreign to you, so “other” that you cannot imagine that you could ever have anything to say to them that would ever matter or make sense. And God says, “Ok, go give them this message…”Repent or I will destroy you and your entire country in forty days.” Well Jonah tries everything NOT to do this task, including boarding a ship going in the opposite direction. But in the end, despite his best intentions, he finds himself delivering one of the all time underwhelming prophetic messages, the one we heard in this morning’s Old testament reading….”Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” Now the fact that this was heard and taken seriously may have had a whole lot more to do, as the scripture implies, with God than it did with the messenger, Jonah, but it took and everyone repented and fasted and put on sackcloth…even the animals. And God changed God’s mind and spared Nineveh. The part of the story that we do not hear today tells us more about Jonah’s response to God’s decision. You might think that he would be pleased that his prophetic message was heard and heeded, but this was not the case. No, he actually was quite upset with God that God changed God’s mind and spared these, in his mind at least, awful people. God was not seeing it his way, doing it his way. God simply did not make sense to Jonah. This is exactly why he had fled in the first place. His hatred was greater than his grasp of God’s mercy and he wanted no part in their deliverance. Some commentators speculate that Jonah suspected all along that God was going to spare those horrible Ninevites and that was why he wanted no part of this thing and fled in the first place. God, he suspected was far more merciful than he could ever be towards his enemies. But God continues to work on him and by the end of the story Jonah may have begun to accept the notion that not even a Nineveh (or a Jonah) is beyond God’s compassion and ability to transform.
And so we go from one call story to another….Jesus is passing by the Sea of Galilee and he sees Simon and Andrew fishing…for they were fishermen, and he says “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And just like that, no questions asked, at least as Mark tells the story, they leave their nets and they follow him. And so, too with James and John. He calls to them and they leave their father in the boat and off they go with him. What made them do it? What made them run towards him and not away? And why did these same four men who seemed to be so insightful in this moment spend the rest of the Gospel bumbling along never quite getting what it was that Jesus was saying, meaning, being? Theologian Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that this too may be more about the power of God than it is about us, that we may be underestimating God’s power to transform us, and that this story may provide a good reminder the potency of God’s action in our lives. She says, "What we may have lost along the way is a full sense of the power of God – to recruit people who have made terrible choices; to invade the most hapless lives and fill them with light; to sneak up on people who are thinking about lunch, not God, and smack them upside the head with glory.” (Home by Another Way) It certainly started well for them, didn’t it? They “immediately” as Mark is so fond of telling us, dropped what they were doing and went off to begin their vocation as disciples of Jesus, or as one rather witty writer has said, the “DUH-ciples. Here they were, right up close and personal with Jesus, with him every day as he taught and healed and lived out his mission and they still couldn’t quite get the point of what he was really about. Mark gives them to us as teachers, but mostly through the things they do wrong or fail to understand. And yet, they have become our spiritual ancestors, part of that great cloud of witnesses that carry us. And they help us remember something else important as well. It is God who calls us for the work of the kingdom, and it is God who will enable us to respond. Whether it means stretching ourselves to try to see beyond our own small worldview to God’s vast kingdom vision, or believing that God can use us to transform the world, even if we don’t quite get how it all works at the time. Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that, like the disciples who turned in a new direction, we also turn our lives "in the same direction as God's life," and that means, perhaps, doing the same things we have always done but doing them "in a new way, or for new reasons." What's important is that "our wills spill into the will of God," and then, "time is fulfilled--immediately!--and the kingdom is at hand" (Home by Another Way).
We all have our own call stories. Perhaps we have not named them as such. Perhaps we have not been ready to claim them until now. But we are all called by baptism to be co-creators with God in building God’s kingdom. We know that God desires that this is a kingdom of mercy and justice, peace and compassion. We know that we are called to love God and love our neighbor. We have Jesus, Emmanuel, God who is with us to show us how to be in this kingdom. We do not have to be perfect in our efforts. Those who went before surely were not! Whether we are like Simon and Andrew and James and John who did respond immediately but then spent most of the rest of their discipleship career bumbling along, well-intentioned but often confused, trying to figure out just what it was that this Jesus was asking of them. Hearts in the right place, but often feeling just a half bubble off in trying to do the will of God. Or if we are Jonah, boarding the first boat for Tarshish at God’s initial approach, needing a little rehabilitation in the belly of the fish, and still struggling to get our heads around God’s incredible capacity for love and compassion and forgiveness – but nevertheless finding in ourselves that spark of willingness to go and do simply because it is God who sends us – may we listen to God’s call on our lives and may we say a resounding “Yes!”
Call stories. Get any vocationally-minded group of folks together and you will eventually hear them. “When I first suspected God was calling me to…” “How I had that sense I was supposed to....go there, do that, be this…..and knew somehow that God was in the mix, that it was God’s will, plan, dream, demand….” depending on how they talk about these things….And if you were to be listening in on these conversations, the responses you hear may or may not be the ones you would expect. Many times as you hear the story told you will hear that the response to this call was…”um, no thanks”…. Or “Oh, God, I don’t think you mean me….surely you must be mistaken. Or, “God….you must have me mixed up with someone who is truly suited for the task….someone brighter or better or stronger or holier” Truth be told, most of us are much more Jonah than Simon and Andrew and James and John when it comes to being called by God. We are much more likely to be on the next boat heading off in the other direction than we are to drop everything and take off immediately after someone who says “come and follow me.” We don’t feel worthy. We don’t feel ready. Or we just don’t want to. We aren’t inclined to drop everything or add anything or risk anything. Life is fine just as it is. Jonah was called by God to go save some people he did not like from complete and total destruction. Imagine. Call up in your mind your worst enemy if you have one. Perhaps someone who has done you a grievous wrong. Someone who has hurt you or someone you love. Or maybe just someone who is so foreign to you, so “other” that you cannot imagine that you could ever have anything to say to them that would ever matter or make sense. And God says, “Ok, go give them this message…”Repent or I will destroy you and your entire country in forty days.” Well Jonah tries everything NOT to do this task, including boarding a ship going in the opposite direction. But in the end, despite his best intentions, he finds himself delivering one of the all time underwhelming prophetic messages, the one we heard in this morning’s Old testament reading….”Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” Now the fact that this was heard and taken seriously may have had a whole lot more to do, as the scripture implies, with God than it did with the messenger, Jonah, but it took and everyone repented and fasted and put on sackcloth…even the animals. And God changed God’s mind and spared Nineveh. The part of the story that we do not hear today tells us more about Jonah’s response to God’s decision. You might think that he would be pleased that his prophetic message was heard and heeded, but this was not the case. No, he actually was quite upset with God that God changed God’s mind and spared these, in his mind at least, awful people. God was not seeing it his way, doing it his way. God simply did not make sense to Jonah. This is exactly why he had fled in the first place. His hatred was greater than his grasp of God’s mercy and he wanted no part in their deliverance. Some commentators speculate that Jonah suspected all along that God was going to spare those horrible Ninevites and that was why he wanted no part of this thing and fled in the first place. God, he suspected was far more merciful than he could ever be towards his enemies. But God continues to work on him and by the end of the story Jonah may have begun to accept the notion that not even a Nineveh (or a Jonah) is beyond God’s compassion and ability to transform.
And so we go from one call story to another….Jesus is passing by the Sea of Galilee and he sees Simon and Andrew fishing…for they were fishermen, and he says “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And just like that, no questions asked, at least as Mark tells the story, they leave their nets and they follow him. And so, too with James and John. He calls to them and they leave their father in the boat and off they go with him. What made them do it? What made them run towards him and not away? And why did these same four men who seemed to be so insightful in this moment spend the rest of the Gospel bumbling along never quite getting what it was that Jesus was saying, meaning, being? Theologian Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that this too may be more about the power of God than it is about us, that we may be underestimating God’s power to transform us, and that this story may provide a good reminder the potency of God’s action in our lives. She says, "What we may have lost along the way is a full sense of the power of God – to recruit people who have made terrible choices; to invade the most hapless lives and fill them with light; to sneak up on people who are thinking about lunch, not God, and smack them upside the head with glory.” (Home by Another Way) It certainly started well for them, didn’t it? They “immediately” as Mark is so fond of telling us, dropped what they were doing and went off to begin their vocation as disciples of Jesus, or as one rather witty writer has said, the “DUH-ciples. Here they were, right up close and personal with Jesus, with him every day as he taught and healed and lived out his mission and they still couldn’t quite get the point of what he was really about. Mark gives them to us as teachers, but mostly through the things they do wrong or fail to understand. And yet, they have become our spiritual ancestors, part of that great cloud of witnesses that carry us. And they help us remember something else important as well. It is God who calls us for the work of the kingdom, and it is God who will enable us to respond. Whether it means stretching ourselves to try to see beyond our own small worldview to God’s vast kingdom vision, or believing that God can use us to transform the world, even if we don’t quite get how it all works at the time. Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that, like the disciples who turned in a new direction, we also turn our lives "in the same direction as God's life," and that means, perhaps, doing the same things we have always done but doing them "in a new way, or for new reasons." What's important is that "our wills spill into the will of God," and then, "time is fulfilled--immediately!--and the kingdom is at hand" (Home by Another Way).
We all have our own call stories. Perhaps we have not named them as such. Perhaps we have not been ready to claim them until now. But we are all called by baptism to be co-creators with God in building God’s kingdom. We know that God desires that this is a kingdom of mercy and justice, peace and compassion. We know that we are called to love God and love our neighbor. We have Jesus, Emmanuel, God who is with us to show us how to be in this kingdom. We do not have to be perfect in our efforts. Those who went before surely were not! Whether we are like Simon and Andrew and James and John who did respond immediately but then spent most of the rest of their discipleship career bumbling along, well-intentioned but often confused, trying to figure out just what it was that this Jesus was asking of them. Hearts in the right place, but often feeling just a half bubble off in trying to do the will of God. Or if we are Jonah, boarding the first boat for Tarshish at God’s initial approach, needing a little rehabilitation in the belly of the fish, and still struggling to get our heads around God’s incredible capacity for love and compassion and forgiveness – but nevertheless finding in ourselves that spark of willingness to go and do simply because it is God who sends us – may we listen to God’s call on our lives and may we say a resounding “Yes!”
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Epiphany 2
Reflection on the Propers (1 Samuel 3:1-20) By The Rev. Jacqueline Schmitt
What to do with the inauguration, I thought, as I began to prepare my sermon for Epiphany 2. We can hardly escape the spectacle, since it is all over the tv, internet, newspapers and radio, all of which seem to be on in our household all the time.
Being a person of a certain age, the first news I hear each day is public radio, then once my eyes are open, I sit down with the New York Times. The Saturday edition contains what passes for religion coverage, and luckily today it was a column by Peter Steinfels.
In “Invoking a Presidential Revelatory Moment,” Steinfels recalled the faux debate at the Saddleback Church, with Rick Warren asking identical questions, sequentially, of Barack Obama and John McCain. I noted the equanimity with which Steinfels treated the two candidates and their responses. The column in no way revealed which man Steinfels favored, especially in regard to the campaign-related questions Warren asked, questions like those any reporter covering the “values” beat would raise of a candidate.
Steinfels then repeated the really religious question Warren asked them: “Does evil exist?” he asked each candidate, and if so, “Should we ignore it, negotiate with it, contain it or defeat it?” Steinfels let the candidates speak for themselves, which struck me as a tactic in the “let those who have ears, let them hear” camp. The full transcript of the answers certainly confirmed my prejudices about the differences between the two men: Obama’s careful, articulate, nuanced answer, in full sentences and paragraphs, smart but not “high-falutin,” vs. McCain’s quick bullet points which seemed intended to give the Saddleback congregation what they came to hear. (Well, in this blog I can reveal where I stand on the election (!) even if in the pulpit I followed Steinfels’ more even-handed approach.)
In my sermon, I cited in its entirety Obama’s answer to the question on evil. It seemed a text much in keeping with the story of Samuel (“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”) and Nathanael (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” and “Where did you get to know me?”). Obama’s emphasis on humility, with a commitment to fight evil accompanied by a lack of certainty that the means one chooses is always the right one – I read in Obama’s brief comments both the wide-eyed openness of Samuel as well as the “you’re not going to pull the wool over my eyes” skepticism of Nathanael.
My exegetical quest led me to a 2006 Christian Century essay by Christine Pohl:
“On their own, neither [Samuel] nor Nathanael are able to interpret these strange encounters. Samuel doesn’t recognize God’s voice, and Nathanael is puzzled by Jesus’ inauspicious origins, and then by his extraordinary capacity to know and to see. But both of them are portrayed as truthful, and the childlike innocence in Samuel is reflected in a description of Nathanael as an Israelite in whom there is "no deceit." No cunning, no spin, no dissimulation, just a purity of heart that helps open their eyes to see God. … Skepticism and inexperience are not barriers [between humans and God] when they are accompanied by truthfulness and transparency.”
Then I went to Jan Richardson’s entry, “Of Fig Trees and Angels,” in The Painted Prayerbook. She read the Nathanael story, and noted the parallel with the story of Jacob’s dream of the angels on the ladder to heaven. He “woke to a larger world than he had ever known, and recognized that God had been in that place,” she wrote. I was particularly drawn to her thoughts at the end of the entry:
“What do you imagine the God of heaven and earth, the God who bridges heaven and earth and causes them to meet—what do you imagine this God is capable of? Can you imagine something beyond that? And beyond that? How might this God be inviting you to imagine and participate in something bigger still?”
On this cusp of change in our nation – and no, I do not harbor the vain hope that Obama and his appointees will solve all our ills – nonetheless, on this cusp of change in our nation, it seems that going into Inauguration Day with the openness of Samuel and the skepticism of Nathanael, and with their truth-seeking guilelessness, would be a good thing. It seems that such a stance is a modest and humble way to embody the hope for which we all long.
What to do with the inauguration, I thought, as I began to prepare my sermon for Epiphany 2. We can hardly escape the spectacle, since it is all over the tv, internet, newspapers and radio, all of which seem to be on in our household all the time.
Being a person of a certain age, the first news I hear each day is public radio, then once my eyes are open, I sit down with the New York Times. The Saturday edition contains what passes for religion coverage, and luckily today it was a column by Peter Steinfels.
In “Invoking a Presidential Revelatory Moment,” Steinfels recalled the faux debate at the Saddleback Church, with Rick Warren asking identical questions, sequentially, of Barack Obama and John McCain. I noted the equanimity with which Steinfels treated the two candidates and their responses. The column in no way revealed which man Steinfels favored, especially in regard to the campaign-related questions Warren asked, questions like those any reporter covering the “values” beat would raise of a candidate.
Steinfels then repeated the really religious question Warren asked them: “Does evil exist?” he asked each candidate, and if so, “Should we ignore it, negotiate with it, contain it or defeat it?” Steinfels let the candidates speak for themselves, which struck me as a tactic in the “let those who have ears, let them hear” camp. The full transcript of the answers certainly confirmed my prejudices about the differences between the two men: Obama’s careful, articulate, nuanced answer, in full sentences and paragraphs, smart but not “high-falutin,” vs. McCain’s quick bullet points which seemed intended to give the Saddleback congregation what they came to hear. (Well, in this blog I can reveal where I stand on the election (!) even if in the pulpit I followed Steinfels’ more even-handed approach.)
In my sermon, I cited in its entirety Obama’s answer to the question on evil. It seemed a text much in keeping with the story of Samuel (“Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”) and Nathanael (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” and “Where did you get to know me?”). Obama’s emphasis on humility, with a commitment to fight evil accompanied by a lack of certainty that the means one chooses is always the right one – I read in Obama’s brief comments both the wide-eyed openness of Samuel as well as the “you’re not going to pull the wool over my eyes” skepticism of Nathanael.
My exegetical quest led me to a 2006 Christian Century essay by Christine Pohl:
“On their own, neither [Samuel] nor Nathanael are able to interpret these strange encounters. Samuel doesn’t recognize God’s voice, and Nathanael is puzzled by Jesus’ inauspicious origins, and then by his extraordinary capacity to know and to see. But both of them are portrayed as truthful, and the childlike innocence in Samuel is reflected in a description of Nathanael as an Israelite in whom there is "no deceit." No cunning, no spin, no dissimulation, just a purity of heart that helps open their eyes to see God. … Skepticism and inexperience are not barriers [between humans and God] when they are accompanied by truthfulness and transparency.”
Then I went to Jan Richardson’s entry, “Of Fig Trees and Angels,” in The Painted Prayerbook. She read the Nathanael story, and noted the parallel with the story of Jacob’s dream of the angels on the ladder to heaven. He “woke to a larger world than he had ever known, and recognized that God had been in that place,” she wrote. I was particularly drawn to her thoughts at the end of the entry:
“What do you imagine the God of heaven and earth, the God who bridges heaven and earth and causes them to meet—what do you imagine this God is capable of? Can you imagine something beyond that? And beyond that? How might this God be inviting you to imagine and participate in something bigger still?”
On this cusp of change in our nation – and no, I do not harbor the vain hope that Obama and his appointees will solve all our ills – nonetheless, on this cusp of change in our nation, it seems that going into Inauguration Day with the openness of Samuel and the skepticism of Nathanael, and with their truth-seeking guilelessness, would be a good thing. It seems that such a stance is a modest and humble way to embody the hope for which we all long.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Feast of the Baptism of Jesus, 2009
“We Never Even Heard There Is a Holy Spirit!”
A reflection on Genesis 1:1-5, Acts 19:1-7, and Mark 1:4-11 by Dr. Laura Grimes
In deciding which Scriptures to reflect on for this feast of the Baptism of Jesus, when we baptize new Christians and renew our own baptismal covenant, I looked at both the Book of Common Prayer lections and those in the Revised Common Lectionary. Not surprisingly, both contain the same Gospel reading: since it is year B, Mark’s account of the broader ministry of John the Baptist followed by his baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan. “The one who is more powerful than I is coming….he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit” and “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favor rests on you.” The Holy Spirit, who gave life to Jesus in his mother’s womb, now descends again in the form of a dove and fills him with an even more intense knowledge of God’s love….And this propels Jesus into action….He showers the same Holy Spirit on God’s beloved people through his prayer in the desert, his radical teaching, and his tireless healing. When we open ourselves to being ever more deeply immersed in the Holy Spirit, we too will come to know ourselves and everyone as God’s beloved children, and be increasingly transformed with the ability to pray deeply, speak prophetically, and act compassionately.
In the end, I chose the RCL lections as the focus largely because of the Acts passage, which never fails to make me smile. Paul meets the citizens of Ephesus who have received only John’s baptism, asks if they have received the Holy Spirit, and they reply that they have never even heard there is a Holy Spirit! Feminist theologians, and those working on the revitalization of Trinitarian theology, have often wryly commented that the church today, and many modern Christians are like those believers in Ephesus—we seem never to have heard of the Holy Spirit, the “Cinderella” of theology. The Holy Spirit is an elusive divine shapechanger imaged in our tradition not just as a dove—or eagle—but as wind, as fire, now living water, as sweet perfume, now as a dove—is virtually invisible because she dwells so deeply within us. She blows where she wills, shakes up received certainties, and resists hierarchical and pietistic attempts to confine and limit her action to the ordained, the loudly faithful, those with a defined set of spiritual gifts or practices--even to Christians….No wonder that she is so often forgotten, except on Pentecost and at confirmation time.
Sadly, the first RCL lection for the day reveals that the compilers of the New Revised Standard version of the Bible, generally considered the most gender-sensitive of mainstream translations, also seem to never have heard of the Holy Spirit. Relying on the fact that ruach in Hebrew can mean breath or wind as well as spirit, in the Genesis lection they translate the words ruach elohim—traditionally understood as the Spirit of God—as wind: “a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” This is a lovely picture, and it does recall the wind which swept the Red/Reed Sea all night to make a way for the Israelites escaping Egypt—but it depends on another mistranslation, of the verb rahapl, which is almost universal in Scripture translations. Most versions say something like “the Spirit of God moved over the face of the waters,” though occasionally one will say “hovered”—which is perhaps closer to the true meaning of the word, but in one commentary I saw inspired the, to me, unfortunate metaphor of a helicopter! Rahapl, however, has a specific and precise meaning which is occasionally mentioned in commentaries but unaccountably left out of translation decisions. It is the word that means, very specifically, a mother bird brooding over her young: to incubate the eggs as they hatch, to protect and nurture the newborn chicks, and, as in Deuteronomy 32:11, to catch and bear them up on her wings as she teaches them to soar. If the NRSV translators had correctly translated rahapl, with its clear indications action by a personal, intimate, and loving source, perhaps they would have also translated ruach elohim in a way more in harmony with the message of the priestly writer….The Spirit of God, or the breath of God, or even the wind of, rather than from God. “The Spirit of God brooded over the waters”….Right from the start, this illuminates a vision of God’s creation as relational, and of God as abundant and nurturing love creating a diverse and very good world, and humankind—male and female—in her own good and loving image.
A reflection on Genesis 1:1-5, Acts 19:1-7, and Mark 1:4-11 by Dr. Laura Grimes
In deciding which Scriptures to reflect on for this feast of the Baptism of Jesus, when we baptize new Christians and renew our own baptismal covenant, I looked at both the Book of Common Prayer lections and those in the Revised Common Lectionary. Not surprisingly, both contain the same Gospel reading: since it is year B, Mark’s account of the broader ministry of John the Baptist followed by his baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan. “The one who is more powerful than I is coming….he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit” and “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favor rests on you.” The Holy Spirit, who gave life to Jesus in his mother’s womb, now descends again in the form of a dove and fills him with an even more intense knowledge of God’s love….And this propels Jesus into action….He showers the same Holy Spirit on God’s beloved people through his prayer in the desert, his radical teaching, and his tireless healing. When we open ourselves to being ever more deeply immersed in the Holy Spirit, we too will come to know ourselves and everyone as God’s beloved children, and be increasingly transformed with the ability to pray deeply, speak prophetically, and act compassionately.
In the end, I chose the RCL lections as the focus largely because of the Acts passage, which never fails to make me smile. Paul meets the citizens of Ephesus who have received only John’s baptism, asks if they have received the Holy Spirit, and they reply that they have never even heard there is a Holy Spirit! Feminist theologians, and those working on the revitalization of Trinitarian theology, have often wryly commented that the church today, and many modern Christians are like those believers in Ephesus—we seem never to have heard of the Holy Spirit, the “Cinderella” of theology. The Holy Spirit is an elusive divine shapechanger imaged in our tradition not just as a dove—or eagle—but as wind, as fire, now living water, as sweet perfume, now as a dove—is virtually invisible because she dwells so deeply within us. She blows where she wills, shakes up received certainties, and resists hierarchical and pietistic attempts to confine and limit her action to the ordained, the loudly faithful, those with a defined set of spiritual gifts or practices--even to Christians….No wonder that she is so often forgotten, except on Pentecost and at confirmation time.
Sadly, the first RCL lection for the day reveals that the compilers of the New Revised Standard version of the Bible, generally considered the most gender-sensitive of mainstream translations, also seem to never have heard of the Holy Spirit. Relying on the fact that ruach in Hebrew can mean breath or wind as well as spirit, in the Genesis lection they translate the words ruach elohim—traditionally understood as the Spirit of God—as wind: “a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” This is a lovely picture, and it does recall the wind which swept the Red/Reed Sea all night to make a way for the Israelites escaping Egypt—but it depends on another mistranslation, of the verb rahapl, which is almost universal in Scripture translations. Most versions say something like “the Spirit of God moved over the face of the waters,” though occasionally one will say “hovered”—which is perhaps closer to the true meaning of the word, but in one commentary I saw inspired the, to me, unfortunate metaphor of a helicopter! Rahapl, however, has a specific and precise meaning which is occasionally mentioned in commentaries but unaccountably left out of translation decisions. It is the word that means, very specifically, a mother bird brooding over her young: to incubate the eggs as they hatch, to protect and nurture the newborn chicks, and, as in Deuteronomy 32:11, to catch and bear them up on her wings as she teaches them to soar. If the NRSV translators had correctly translated rahapl, with its clear indications action by a personal, intimate, and loving source, perhaps they would have also translated ruach elohim in a way more in harmony with the message of the priestly writer….The Spirit of God, or the breath of God, or even the wind of, rather than from God. “The Spirit of God brooded over the waters”….Right from the start, this illuminates a vision of God’s creation as relational, and of God as abundant and nurturing love creating a diverse and very good world, and humankind—male and female—in her own good and loving image.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Christmas II
Reflections on Matthew 2:13-15,19-23 by The Rev. Margaret Rose
The Flight into Egypt
For many years I have had a standard angle on this text of the Flight into Egypt. Apart from some historical reflection, it is about how its actually okay to flee when one is in danger—either physically or mentally or emotionally. The geographic cure may not last long, but at least there is a respite—from the evil King or from some other more inner adversary. Fleeing is sometimes the best way to cope. Denial is a response which offers us time to find a safe space to return to. I have often thought of this as the Safe House text. A place of shelter in a foreign land when abuse is the only sure thing about home.
But this Sunday I am preaching in a parish which has offered an even deeper look at this text. The parish is St. Augustine’s Church on the lower East Side of Manhattan. Founded in 1828 for the wealthy of that neighborhood, it built “slave galleries” so that African American workers who accompanied their owners to church could worship apart. Likely, it was to ensure that workers remained close at hand to be watched. New York outlawed slave ownership in 1827, but equality was not even a distant hope. However, Free men and women who worshipped together had the opportunity to be together in ways that were not possible during the week. And in spite of the separation, it was a place where African Americans were able to worship, where they learned to read and where it is even possible that a burgeoning abolitionist movement in the area was formed. The slave galleries—box like structures at the rear of the church---still exist today, as a stark reminder of those dark days, a piece of history from which to strengthen resolve for the future. Indeed today, St. Augustine’s is the largest African American congregation in that part of the city.
Over the years, this parish where African Americans had no power or rights, has become a symbol of refuge and liberation—a place of renewal and hope.
And so I return to the story of the Flight to Egypt. Joseph and Mary flee to this place whose memory for the People of Israel was one of slavery and oppression. We claim the of Exodus as the primal liberation story of that people—the hoping of leaving Egypt never to return. The idea that this place of slavery so many centuries later has become a place of refuge for the holy family, offers hope in a political world of danger and torture and seeming despair. Even if it takes centuries, there is this symbolic and very real possibility.
For Matthew—we don’t get to the present, or indeed the future with out the past, without knowing where we have come from, the journey one might say of God’s long standing presence. I always remember Matthew because he is the one—in my childhood memory of the King James Version of the Bible, with the “BEGATS” genealogy was important for Matthew---precisely because in hindsight, one could see things clearly and know that God was involved even when it might not have seemed so at the time. Throughout his Gospel as he tells of Jesus and the events of his life, his words are often prefaced with “As the prophets foretold”….. It is not for nothing that these things have happened. “all this took place to fulfill……”
So for Matthew the past matters.
So also does the present and the signs of the times. Pay attention to the signs: Matthew seems to say --dreams and stars and even your own body. For the whole universe is part of God’s plan for the redemption of history into new possibility of the healing of a broken world. For you never know when a star may lead you to the savior. You never know when a dream will send a message of truth, or when redemption may occur and Egypt, once a place of slavery becomes a place of refuge. Paying attention doesn’t make it easy of course; the Road may well be hard and the journey treacherous. And persistence and endurance are required along the way.
That is how it was with Mary and Joseph. First, the road to Bethlehem where they are hardly settled than a host of visitors arrives having themselves traveled from afar, by the leading of stars and dreams--the shepherds and the strangers from the East, wise men of another religion. They have come to worship or at least check out what has come to pass, courageously defying King Herod. They, too, depart by another route, a new direction—symbolically and literally. No sooner has Herod discovered he has been duped by the wise men than Joseph and Mary flee to safety to the land of Egypt. Safe in Egypt we read of the horrible slaughter of the innocent boys ---Herod’s rage and fear know no bounds. The text of lament, not offered in today’s lesson is that of a mother’s broken heart: A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be consoled.
All this of course, is Matthew’s account, which historically we know was to establish Jesus credibility in history, his role as a prophet. The new Moses and indeed as Messiah. For us today, this witness is Good News for us in 2009, amid the current events both of violence in Israel and Gaza and fear at home of economic distress.
Reread in this new light, Matthew’s Good news for us goes well beyond permission for flight and denial. And I will know even more once I have actually experienced the day at St. Augustine’s. But my insight from Matthew this week was a gift. In short ---
Know our history, Pay attention to the signs. Be fearless and persistent in the journey, even though dangerous. Expect transformation. Perhaps that can be a message for us as we begin the season of Epiphany. E-piph-a-ny: “a sudden, intuitive perception.” May there be many!
Margaret Rose
January 2009
The Flight into Egypt
For many years I have had a standard angle on this text of the Flight into Egypt. Apart from some historical reflection, it is about how its actually okay to flee when one is in danger—either physically or mentally or emotionally. The geographic cure may not last long, but at least there is a respite—from the evil King or from some other more inner adversary. Fleeing is sometimes the best way to cope. Denial is a response which offers us time to find a safe space to return to. I have often thought of this as the Safe House text. A place of shelter in a foreign land when abuse is the only sure thing about home.
But this Sunday I am preaching in a parish which has offered an even deeper look at this text. The parish is St. Augustine’s Church on the lower East Side of Manhattan. Founded in 1828 for the wealthy of that neighborhood, it built “slave galleries” so that African American workers who accompanied their owners to church could worship apart. Likely, it was to ensure that workers remained close at hand to be watched. New York outlawed slave ownership in 1827, but equality was not even a distant hope. However, Free men and women who worshipped together had the opportunity to be together in ways that were not possible during the week. And in spite of the separation, it was a place where African Americans were able to worship, where they learned to read and where it is even possible that a burgeoning abolitionist movement in the area was formed. The slave galleries—box like structures at the rear of the church---still exist today, as a stark reminder of those dark days, a piece of history from which to strengthen resolve for the future. Indeed today, St. Augustine’s is the largest African American congregation in that part of the city.
Over the years, this parish where African Americans had no power or rights, has become a symbol of refuge and liberation—a place of renewal and hope.
And so I return to the story of the Flight to Egypt. Joseph and Mary flee to this place whose memory for the People of Israel was one of slavery and oppression. We claim the of Exodus as the primal liberation story of that people—the hoping of leaving Egypt never to return. The idea that this place of slavery so many centuries later has become a place of refuge for the holy family, offers hope in a political world of danger and torture and seeming despair. Even if it takes centuries, there is this symbolic and very real possibility.
For Matthew—we don’t get to the present, or indeed the future with out the past, without knowing where we have come from, the journey one might say of God’s long standing presence. I always remember Matthew because he is the one—in my childhood memory of the King James Version of the Bible, with the “BEGATS” genealogy was important for Matthew---precisely because in hindsight, one could see things clearly and know that God was involved even when it might not have seemed so at the time. Throughout his Gospel as he tells of Jesus and the events of his life, his words are often prefaced with “As the prophets foretold”….. It is not for nothing that these things have happened. “all this took place to fulfill……”
So for Matthew the past matters.
So also does the present and the signs of the times. Pay attention to the signs: Matthew seems to say --dreams and stars and even your own body. For the whole universe is part of God’s plan for the redemption of history into new possibility of the healing of a broken world. For you never know when a star may lead you to the savior. You never know when a dream will send a message of truth, or when redemption may occur and Egypt, once a place of slavery becomes a place of refuge. Paying attention doesn’t make it easy of course; the Road may well be hard and the journey treacherous. And persistence and endurance are required along the way.
That is how it was with Mary and Joseph. First, the road to Bethlehem where they are hardly settled than a host of visitors arrives having themselves traveled from afar, by the leading of stars and dreams--the shepherds and the strangers from the East, wise men of another religion. They have come to worship or at least check out what has come to pass, courageously defying King Herod. They, too, depart by another route, a new direction—symbolically and literally. No sooner has Herod discovered he has been duped by the wise men than Joseph and Mary flee to safety to the land of Egypt. Safe in Egypt we read of the horrible slaughter of the innocent boys ---Herod’s rage and fear know no bounds. The text of lament, not offered in today’s lesson is that of a mother’s broken heart: A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be consoled.
All this of course, is Matthew’s account, which historically we know was to establish Jesus credibility in history, his role as a prophet. The new Moses and indeed as Messiah. For us today, this witness is Good News for us in 2009, amid the current events both of violence in Israel and Gaza and fear at home of economic distress.
Reread in this new light, Matthew’s Good news for us goes well beyond permission for flight and denial. And I will know even more once I have actually experienced the day at St. Augustine’s. But my insight from Matthew this week was a gift. In short ---
Know our history, Pay attention to the signs. Be fearless and persistent in the journey, even though dangerous. Expect transformation. Perhaps that can be a message for us as we begin the season of Epiphany. E-piph-a-ny: “a sudden, intuitive perception.” May there be many!
Margaret Rose
January 2009
Christmas II
Reflections on Matthew 2:13-15,19-23 by The Rev. Margaret Rose
The Flight into Egypt
For many years I have had a standard angle on this text of the Flight into Egypt. Apart from some historical reflection, it is about how its actually okay to flee when one is in danger—either physically or mentally or emotionally. The geographic cure may not last long, but at least there is a respite—from the evil King or from some other more inner adversary. Fleeing is sometimes the best way to cope. Denial is a response which offers us time to find a safe space to return to. I have often thought of this as the Safe House text. A place of shelter in a foreign land when abuse is the only sure thing about home.
But this Sunday I am preaching in a parish which has offered an even deeper look at this text. The parish is St. Augustine’s Church on the lower East Side of Manhattan. Founded in 1828 for the wealthy of that neighborhood, it built “slave galleries” so that African American workers who accompanied their owners to church could worship apart. Likely, it was to ensure that workers remained close at hand to be watched. New York outlawed slave ownership in 1827, but equality was not even a distant hope. However, Free men and women who worshipped together had the opportunity to be together in ways that were not possible during the week. And in spite of the separation, it was a place where African Americans were able to worship, where they learned to read and where it is even possible that a burgeoning abolitionist movement in the area was formed. The slave galleries—box like structures at the rear of the church---still exist today, as a stark reminder of those dark days, a piece of history from which to strengthen resolve for the future. Indeed today, St. Augustine’s is the largest African American congregation in that part of the city.
Over the years, this parish where African Americans had no power or rights, has become a symbol of refuge and liberation—a place of renewal and hope.
And so I return to the story of the Flight to Egypt. Joseph and Mary flee to this place whose memory for the People of Israel was one of slavery and oppression. We claim the of Exodus as the primal liberation story of that people—the hoping of leaving Egypt never to return. The idea that this place of slavery so many centuries later has become a place of refuge for the holy family, offers hope in a political world of danger and torture and seeming despair. Even if it takes centuries, there is this symbolic and very real
possibility.
For Matthew—we don’t get to the present, or indeed the future with out the past, without knowing where we have come from, the journey one might say of God’s long standing presence. I always remember Matthew because he is the one—in my childhood memory of the King James Version of the Bible, with the “BEGATS” genealogy was important for Matthew---precisely because in hindsight, one could see things clearly and know that God was involved even when it might not have seemed so at the time. Throughout his Gospel as he tells of Jesus and the events of his life, his words are often prefaced with “As the prophets foretold”….. It is not for nothing that these things have happened. “all this took place to fulfill……”
So for Matthew the past matters.
So also does the present and the signs of the times. Pay attention to the signs: Matthew seems to say --dreams and stars and even your own body. For the whole universe is part of God’s plan for the redemption of history into new possibility of the healing of a broken world. For you never know when a star may lead you to the savior. You never know when a dream will send a message of truth, or when redemption may occur and Egypt, once a place of slavery becomes a place of refuge. Paying attention doesn’t make it easy of course; the Road may well be hard and the journey treacherous. And persistence and endurance are required along the way.
That is how it was with Mary and Joseph. First, the road to Bethlehem where they are hardly settled than a host of visitors arrives having themselves traveled from afar, by the leading of stars and dreams--the shepherds and the strangers from the East, wise men of another religion. They have come to worship or at least check out what has come to pass, courageously defying King Herod. They, too, depart by another route, a new direction—symbolically and literally. No sooner has Herod discovered he has been duped by the wise men than Joseph and Mary flee to safety to the land of Egypt. Safe in Egypt we read of the horrible slaughter of the innocent boys ---Herod’s rage and fear know no bounds. The text of lament, not offered in today’s lesson is that of a mother’s broken heart: A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be consoled
All this of course, is Matthew’s account, which historically we know was to establish Jesus credibility in history, his role as a prophet. The new Moses and indeed as Messiah. For us today, this witness is Good News for us in 2009, amid the current events both of violence in Israel and Gaza and fear at home of economic distress.
Reread in this new light, Matthew’s Good news for us goes well beyond permission for flight and denial. And I will know even more once I have actually experienced the day at St. Augustine’s. But my insight from Matthew this week was a gift. In short ---
Know our history, Pay attention to the signs. Be fearless and persistent in the journey, even though dangerous. Expect transformation. Perhaps that can be a message for us as we begin the season of Epiphany. E-piph-a-ny: “a sudden, intuitive perception.” May there be many!
Margaret Rose
January 2009
The Flight into Egypt
For many years I have had a standard angle on this text of the Flight into Egypt. Apart from some historical reflection, it is about how its actually okay to flee when one is in danger—either physically or mentally or emotionally. The geographic cure may not last long, but at least there is a respite—from the evil King or from some other more inner adversary. Fleeing is sometimes the best way to cope. Denial is a response which offers us time to find a safe space to return to. I have often thought of this as the Safe House text. A place of shelter in a foreign land when abuse is the only sure thing about home.
But this Sunday I am preaching in a parish which has offered an even deeper look at this text. The parish is St. Augustine’s Church on the lower East Side of Manhattan. Founded in 1828 for the wealthy of that neighborhood, it built “slave galleries” so that African American workers who accompanied their owners to church could worship apart. Likely, it was to ensure that workers remained close at hand to be watched. New York outlawed slave ownership in 1827, but equality was not even a distant hope. However, Free men and women who worshipped together had the opportunity to be together in ways that were not possible during the week. And in spite of the separation, it was a place where African Americans were able to worship, where they learned to read and where it is even possible that a burgeoning abolitionist movement in the area was formed. The slave galleries—box like structures at the rear of the church---still exist today, as a stark reminder of those dark days, a piece of history from which to strengthen resolve for the future. Indeed today, St. Augustine’s is the largest African American congregation in that part of the city.
Over the years, this parish where African Americans had no power or rights, has become a symbol of refuge and liberation—a place of renewal and hope.
And so I return to the story of the Flight to Egypt. Joseph and Mary flee to this place whose memory for the People of Israel was one of slavery and oppression. We claim the of Exodus as the primal liberation story of that people—the hoping of leaving Egypt never to return. The idea that this place of slavery so many centuries later has become a place of refuge for the holy family, offers hope in a political world of danger and torture and seeming despair. Even if it takes centuries, there is this symbolic and very real
possibility.
For Matthew—we don’t get to the present, or indeed the future with out the past, without knowing where we have come from, the journey one might say of God’s long standing presence. I always remember Matthew because he is the one—in my childhood memory of the King James Version of the Bible, with the “BEGATS” genealogy was important for Matthew---precisely because in hindsight, one could see things clearly and know that God was involved even when it might not have seemed so at the time. Throughout his Gospel as he tells of Jesus and the events of his life, his words are often prefaced with “As the prophets foretold”….. It is not for nothing that these things have happened. “all this took place to fulfill……”
So for Matthew the past matters.
So also does the present and the signs of the times. Pay attention to the signs: Matthew seems to say --dreams and stars and even your own body. For the whole universe is part of God’s plan for the redemption of history into new possibility of the healing of a broken world. For you never know when a star may lead you to the savior. You never know when a dream will send a message of truth, or when redemption may occur and Egypt, once a place of slavery becomes a place of refuge. Paying attention doesn’t make it easy of course; the Road may well be hard and the journey treacherous. And persistence and endurance are required along the way.
That is how it was with Mary and Joseph. First, the road to Bethlehem where they are hardly settled than a host of visitors arrives having themselves traveled from afar, by the leading of stars and dreams--the shepherds and the strangers from the East, wise men of another religion. They have come to worship or at least check out what has come to pass, courageously defying King Herod. They, too, depart by another route, a new direction—symbolically and literally. No sooner has Herod discovered he has been duped by the wise men than Joseph and Mary flee to safety to the land of Egypt. Safe in Egypt we read of the horrible slaughter of the innocent boys ---Herod’s rage and fear know no bounds. The text of lament, not offered in today’s lesson is that of a mother’s broken heart: A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be consoled
All this of course, is Matthew’s account, which historically we know was to establish Jesus credibility in history, his role as a prophet. The new Moses and indeed as Messiah. For us today, this witness is Good News for us in 2009, amid the current events both of violence in Israel and Gaza and fear at home of economic distress.
Reread in this new light, Matthew’s Good news for us goes well beyond permission for flight and denial. And I will know even more once I have actually experienced the day at St. Augustine’s. But my insight from Matthew this week was a gift. In short ---
Know our history, Pay attention to the signs. Be fearless and persistent in the journey, even though dangerous. Expect transformation. Perhaps that can be a message for us as we begin the season of Epiphany. E-piph-a-ny: “a sudden, intuitive perception.” May there be many!
Margaret Rose
January 2009
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