Would it surprise Jesus if we gave away hugs so readily? Jesus often used touch to provide healing, offer forgiveness, and demonstrate compassion. In Luke's account of the Prodigal Son, the father does not scold his errant son, does not say: "I told you so." Rather, he runs to him and throws his arms around him.
In this world that has become so faceless, where cyberspace bullying drives young people to turn anger inward on themselves, we would be well-advised to reclaim personal contact. Today, look someone in the eyes, with compassion, and offer them a simple, respectful touch. Hugs are free; their value is priceless.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Good Intentions
to name the areas where she wants to better herself at the beginning of the year. Resolution does have a lot of guilt attached to it if we lose our resolve. Intentions are what we hope to do, perhaps will even strive to do. But the word seems to allow us to forgive ourselves when we falter or simply fall flat.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Risky Business
"The Problem We All Live With: A painting of Ruby Bridges" by Norman Rockwell depicts the six-year-old going to school at Walter Frantz Public School in New Orleans in 1960. During her first year at school, Ruby was in a class of one, the first African-American child to attend that school under federal-court-ordered desegregation. She went alone because most white parents kept their children out of school that year.
In my town in North Carolina, I would not go to class with black students until I was in the seventh grade, 1968. A long hard fought battle, and sometimes we think that discrimination and segregation is over.
Would it surprise Jesus to know that in many places in the land of the free, while schools have become desegregated, that many churches in America are still closed to others not like us?
We are struggling to accept others - black, white, Asian, Native American, gay, lesbian, transgendered, bisexual. We even struggle to allow our children to worship with us. We make it difficult for those who were the pillars of our churches worship because we are slow to change our accommodations so that they can come into our sanctuaries and manage to sit for an hour.
All the while we celebrate a Jesus who called to himself children, outcasts, the sick, the different. People who did not share his upbringing, his national heritage, his language. Would it surprise Jesus that we still have trouble recognizing our neighbor?
On Sunday, a young parishioner stood in the pulpit to talk about God's extravagant welcome to all persons, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity. He is not the brash preacher from outside the community. He has a lot to lose, some may say. Yet he called his family, friends and neighbors to care, and to say out loud all are welcome here.
What may have surprised my friend is that his words did not fall on deaf ears. Rather, a conversation began. One person expressed joy at his words during our time of prayer. The church gathered, following worship, and stayed together to listen, for a moment, to each other's stories.
He took the risk of calling us to care, to love, and we responded, joyfully.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas Sundaes
It’s Christmas morning and my husband and I have just had our Christmas breakfast of ice cream sundaes. That’s right, ice cream sundaes. I don’t know that this would surprise Jesus, though I’m certain it may surprise you as readers.
Years ago, during my first marriage, we had begun a tradition of having a “junk food extravaganza” on Christmas Eve. It has stuck with my daughter and I and has been passed on to my current wonderful husband. He chose to add the sundaes to this year’s festivities.
Of course, while a meal of junk food sounds wonderful, our eyes are almost always bigger than our stomachs. So, we decided to breakfast on sundaes.
Why is it that Christmas is for most of us, pastors included, a day of conspicuous consumption? The Christmas event belies the festival of consumerism we have corrupted it into.
The story begins with scandal. A teenaged girl, betrothed to another man, is pregnant. Her story: she has been overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and conceived a child from God.
Joseph, her betrothed, had every right to present her with a bill of divorce and to have her stoned for adultery. In Matthew’s gospel, Joseph receives a visitation from the angel and is convinced to raise the child as his own.
What is striking to me is God’s choice to enter the world as a child of scandal, a bastard to put it bluntly. Yet it is this very decision that bears witness to the fact that God loves each of us, the very least, the despised, the unloved, the fatherless.
What if we chose today to celebrate the coming of Christ into the world by loving those we have chosen to despise? Wouldn’t that surprise Jesus? Wouldn’t that honor God?
Years ago, during my first marriage, we had begun a tradition of having a “junk food extravaganza” on Christmas Eve. It has stuck with my daughter and I and has been passed on to my current wonderful husband. He chose to add the sundaes to this year’s festivities.
Of course, while a meal of junk food sounds wonderful, our eyes are almost always bigger than our stomachs. So, we decided to breakfast on sundaes.
Why is it that Christmas is for most of us, pastors included, a day of conspicuous consumption? The Christmas event belies the festival of consumerism we have corrupted it into.
The story begins with scandal. A teenaged girl, betrothed to another man, is pregnant. Her story: she has been overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and conceived a child from God.
Joseph, her betrothed, had every right to present her with a bill of divorce and to have her stoned for adultery. In Matthew’s gospel, Joseph receives a visitation from the angel and is convinced to raise the child as his own.
What is striking to me is God’s choice to enter the world as a child of scandal, a bastard to put it bluntly. Yet it is this very decision that bears witness to the fact that God loves each of us, the very least, the despised, the unloved, the fatherless.
What if we chose today to celebrate the coming of Christ into the world by loving those we have chosen to despise? Wouldn’t that surprise Jesus? Wouldn’t that honor God?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Holy Thursday
On the third Thursday of each month, I go to a small nursing home in the area and celebrate worship with the residents there. It has always been an enlivening experience for me. It is also interesting in that I am a woman ordained in the United Church of Christ, and many of my Thursday "parishioners" are Catholic.
We do not celebrate the Eucharist. That is done for them on Sundays. But I read scripture, offer a brief meditation on the piece, and then we sing.
The joy for me is that the residents seem to look forward to my visit. I usually hang out with them for a bit afterward.
But back to Holy Thursday. As this is a once a month service, I realized I could have brought an Easter message. That would be uplifting and life-affirming. But it seemed to me that we can only come to Easter by first traveling through the Last Supper with his disciples and standing at the foot of the cross.
I read John's account of Jesus's washing the disciples' feet.
And then, I asked permission to wash the hands of the people. Most of the hands were gnarled, and affected by arthritis. But all responded with tenderness to this small thing.
It was a sacred moment. Nearly everyone closed their eyes when I washed their hands in my bowl. And everyone whispered thank you.
One of the women who works there said, "But no one has washed your hands. May I?"
Each of us met Jesus that day. For a brief moment, the Christ in each of us spoke to the heart.
What would surprise Jesus in this? I think for him, there are no surprises. Jesus knew the power of touching. And he calls us to share that with each other.
We do not celebrate the Eucharist. That is done for them on Sundays. But I read scripture, offer a brief meditation on the piece, and then we sing.
The joy for me is that the residents seem to look forward to my visit. I usually hang out with them for a bit afterward.
But back to Holy Thursday. As this is a once a month service, I realized I could have brought an Easter message. That would be uplifting and life-affirming. But it seemed to me that we can only come to Easter by first traveling through the Last Supper with his disciples and standing at the foot of the cross.
I read John's account of Jesus's washing the disciples' feet.
And then, I asked permission to wash the hands of the people. Most of the hands were gnarled, and affected by arthritis. But all responded with tenderness to this small thing.
It was a sacred moment. Nearly everyone closed their eyes when I washed their hands in my bowl. And everyone whispered thank you.
One of the women who works there said, "But no one has washed your hands. May I?"
Each of us met Jesus that day. For a brief moment, the Christ in each of us spoke to the heart.
What would surprise Jesus in this? I think for him, there are no surprises. Jesus knew the power of touching. And he calls us to share that with each other.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
This Day of Resurrection
It was cold in the Emerson Garden adjacent to the church. A brazier was lit to bring a little warmth to those gathered there.
Regardless of the cold, I was glad to be there, gathered with the church, celebrating the miracle of the empty tomb.
Last Easter was marked by the death of my father. The second family death in about six months. I did not sing "Alleluia" but I did have confidence in the Resurrection.
The day my father was buried, a preacher stood to say that he knew that Fred had accepted Jesus. That was a surprise to me. I don't think he ever made such a confession. Of course, what might surprise those who believe that one must make a confession heard by someone "qualified" to hear such things is that it does not matter whether Fred uttered those words.
What matters is that the living God accepted Fred. That is the good news of the Gospel. We are all accepted by God as beloved children. There is no rote confession, no statement of faith worded just so. We are accepted.
This might surprise some reading this. But it won't surprise Jesus. Jesus was, after all, the one sent into the world, not to condemn the world, but to bring us to God.
Regardless of the cold, I was glad to be there, gathered with the church, celebrating the miracle of the empty tomb.
Last Easter was marked by the death of my father. The second family death in about six months. I did not sing "Alleluia" but I did have confidence in the Resurrection.
The day my father was buried, a preacher stood to say that he knew that Fred had accepted Jesus. That was a surprise to me. I don't think he ever made such a confession. Of course, what might surprise those who believe that one must make a confession heard by someone "qualified" to hear such things is that it does not matter whether Fred uttered those words.
What matters is that the living God accepted Fred. That is the good news of the Gospel. We are all accepted by God as beloved children. There is no rote confession, no statement of faith worded just so. We are accepted.
This might surprise some reading this. But it won't surprise Jesus. Jesus was, after all, the one sent into the world, not to condemn the world, but to bring us to God.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Gathering of the Lodge
What would surprise Jesus?
Perhaps Jesus would be surprised and pleased to see that the children of God gather to support those who walk for peace. That is exactly what happened Sunday night. Children who call God by different names, who worship in different places, and with different traditions. Yet all were called as people of one spirit to bless the walk of the Buddhists of the New England Peace Pagoda. Accompanying them for part of the walk is our neighbor Al.
They will walk from Hiroshima to Tokyo. Their purpose is to encourage the Japanese government not to rescind the prophibition against a standing army. As put in their constitution: "The government shall not act belligerently on behalf of the people."
Each of us presented Al with a small stone, a piece of our community for him to leave with the people of Japan. While most came from the neighborhood, Paul and I brought stones we had collected by the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. The circle of stones is very wide, as is the love of God.
The evening did put me in mind of a book called "Circle of Stones." This book suggests that women might consider gathering at the lodge to honor the right of passage of girls into womanhood. That as we gather at the lodge, and pass the secret knowledge of women, that the young woman feels the love and care and support of the lodge.
So it seems to me, the lodge gathered this night to show Al support and love and care in this journey. Not a lone journey, but a journey of community, for the community. Not the community of Montague alone, but for this blue and green orb that is the home of us all.
This lodge is very inclusive. We were Christian, Buddhist, Jewish, Hindu, male and female. This lodge does not ask that we have been long-time members. Paul and I have only been here a few months. We were received with the same hospitality as those who have been long-time friends.
This was no official body of any church. No committee planned and voted. Rather, the community, the lodge gathered, because it is the responsibility of the lodge to bless and support this venture.
This would surprise Jesus. It certainly surprised and blessed me.
Perhaps Jesus would be surprised and pleased to see that the children of God gather to support those who walk for peace. That is exactly what happened Sunday night. Children who call God by different names, who worship in different places, and with different traditions. Yet all were called as people of one spirit to bless the walk of the Buddhists of the New England Peace Pagoda. Accompanying them for part of the walk is our neighbor Al.
They will walk from Hiroshima to Tokyo. Their purpose is to encourage the Japanese government not to rescind the prophibition against a standing army. As put in their constitution: "The government shall not act belligerently on behalf of the people."
Each of us presented Al with a small stone, a piece of our community for him to leave with the people of Japan. While most came from the neighborhood, Paul and I brought stones we had collected by the Chesapeake Bay in Virginia. The circle of stones is very wide, as is the love of God.
The evening did put me in mind of a book called "Circle of Stones." This book suggests that women might consider gathering at the lodge to honor the right of passage of girls into womanhood. That as we gather at the lodge, and pass the secret knowledge of women, that the young woman feels the love and care and support of the lodge.
So it seems to me, the lodge gathered this night to show Al support and love and care in this journey. Not a lone journey, but a journey of community, for the community. Not the community of Montague alone, but for this blue and green orb that is the home of us all.
This lodge is very inclusive. We were Christian, Buddhist, Jewish, Hindu, male and female. This lodge does not ask that we have been long-time members. Paul and I have only been here a few months. We were received with the same hospitality as those who have been long-time friends.
This was no official body of any church. No committee planned and voted. Rather, the community, the lodge gathered, because it is the responsibility of the lodge to bless and support this venture.
This would surprise Jesus. It certainly surprised and blessed me.
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