There is a tradition, particularly among Jewish scholars, called mishnah. It is storytelling based upon a biblical text that attempts to retell the text in a new way. It puts faces and lives on people about whom Scripture tell us just a little. I would like to share with you a mishnah I learned many years ago on this Sunday's gospel from Mark.
There was a young man named Jairus and a young woman named Miriam. Their fathers arranged, as fathers did in those days, for them to be married to each other. Jairus and Miriam were quite please with the match and it was no time at all before they fell deeply in love.
A year after the marriage, Miriam gave birth to their first child. Jairus was so delighted to be a father that he didn't even mind that this first child was a girl. He named her Hannah. Miriam was sure their next child would be a son. But this birth had been a hard one. Miriam suffered from hemmorhages and there would be no more children.
The laws of Israel are quite clear about this sort of thing. The hemorrhaging made Miriam unclean, ritually unclean. Because Jairus was a leader in the synagogue, it was most important for him to follow all the laws religiously. Miriam's problem was not only embarrassing, it jeopardized his own ritual cleanliness. And so, Jairus had to divorce his wife even though he still loved her. He gave back her dowry and set her up in a house with her favorite maid.
For years, Miriam sought a cure. Every quack and magician soon learned that Miriam was an easy touch. She rapidly ran through her dowry, had to send the maid back to Jairus and ended up sleeping on the street and begging for a living.
In the meantime, Hannah was growing up in her father's house. As she grew towards adulthood, she was afraid her mother's disease would also be hers. Hannah thought if she didn't eat, she wouldn't grow up. So she stopped eating. Soon Hannah was so malnourished she became very sick, so sick she was close to death. Jairus was beside himself. First he had lost his beloved wife and now it appeared his daughter was going to die.
A servant told him that the Teacher was nearby. Jairus knew all about Jesus. He knew that synagogue leaders weren't supposed to have anything to do with this man. But Jairus believed that Jesus really did heal people. He ran to find Jesus. He begged Jesus over and over to come heal Hannah.
Miriam had also heard that Jesus was there and she rushed to the square in the hope that this man could do what no one else could. There were so many people crowded around Jesus. It was hard for Miriam to work her way through them all and when she finally got to the front of the crowd, she was shocked to see Jairus on his knees begging Jesus. She was more shocked to hear that her daughter was dying.
Miriam followed Jairus and Jesus, keeping back far enough in the crowd that Jairus would not see her but not so far back that she couldn't reach out and touch a corner of Jesus' cloak. She knew that was all it would take to heal her finally.
As she touched the hem, she felt the disease leave her. Jesus stopped and asked his disciples who had touched him. But they pointed to the size of the crowd and said it could have been anyone. So Jesus asked the crowd the same question.
Miriam was afraid to tell him but she knew she had to. Jesus compelled her to speak just by his quiet presence. So she stepped forward and knelt to beg Jesus' forgiveness. Jairus couldn't believe it was her! Jesus simply said, "Your faith has made you well," and then he began walking again.
Now a servant of Jairus' household broke through the crowd and told Jairus that Hannah was dead. Before either Jairus or Miriam could cry out, Jesus said to them, "Do not fear. Only believe."
When they came to the house, Jesus took three of his disciples inside along with Hannah's parents. When they came to Hannah's room, Jesus took her hand and said, "Little girl, get up!" Hannah got up from her bed and walked toward her parents. "Give her something to eat," Jesus told Miriam.
In a fairy tale, this is when I'm supposed to say they lived happily ever after. That's only partly true. Jairus was glad to have his wife and daughter back but he couldn't imagine leaving his prestigious job in the synagogue. He thought his happiness was there.
Miriam was glad to see Jairus and Hannah again but she knew that her life was different now. She wasn't too concerned about happiness. She had been healed because of her faith in the Teacher and she knew that she had to follow Jesus.
Even to the foot of the cross.
[I first saw this story more than twenty years ago on a preaching listserv. Alas, I did not save that original message so I don't know who the author was. I have added a few touches of my own but the original is not mine. Thanks to the woman who originally wrote it.]
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
the run up to General Convention
It's been quite a while since I posted anything here. My excuse is that I've been reading all 400 pages of the report from the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music. I'm down to reading through the lessons proposed for particular commemorations. Some of them work well and others leave me scratching my head. Of course, some of the lessons assigned to existing commemorations also leave me scratching my head! I can't complain too loudly, though, as I have no desire to or expertise for assigning more appropriate lessons.
There are many weighty matters that will come before the General Convention in July. I think that the most important one is returning ourselves to a mission-oriented church. We have become so overwhelmed by program - Episcopalians love writing and reading, after all - that we have lost sight of the purpose of program. If it doesn't directly result in or support mission, then perhaps we can do without it.
We also like to reinvent the wheel or at least make it better. This is a concept borrowed straight from capitalism. The notion that streamlining the bumpers or adding cruise control will get consumers to buy the new model when there really isn't much, if anything, wrong with the old one. Our commissions and committees, though, must come up with something to do or they may find themselves dissolved.
So I propose that we suspend the work of almost every single commission, committee and board for the next three years unless the work is clearly missional. I also believe we can do most of this kind of work electronically. Face to face meetings are really great but conference calls, emails and skype will drastically reduce expenditures. Consolidating efforts - for instance, information gathering which is done well by Church Pension and the State of the Church group might join forces and produce one report - would reduce duplication and save hundreds of trees.
And then when we come together for the General Convention of 2012, we can consider whether we have managed nicely without certain CCABs or whether they need to be reactivated. Would it be so bad, for instance, if the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music didn't produce a new addition to the Enriching Our Worship series or revise The Book of Occasional Services? Can we manage to survive with the current Book of Common Prayer, the five EOW books, Lesser Feasts and Fasts and the current Book of Occasional Services for three to six years? I think the answer is probably yes.
Of course, the hardest thing in the world is to stop a group from meeting after they have gotten used to doing so regularly. And there just might be groups whose work we would miss. But we will never know unless we try to get along without them and redirect our focus outward.
And that's my nickel's worth!
There are many weighty matters that will come before the General Convention in July. I think that the most important one is returning ourselves to a mission-oriented church. We have become so overwhelmed by program - Episcopalians love writing and reading, after all - that we have lost sight of the purpose of program. If it doesn't directly result in or support mission, then perhaps we can do without it.
We also like to reinvent the wheel or at least make it better. This is a concept borrowed straight from capitalism. The notion that streamlining the bumpers or adding cruise control will get consumers to buy the new model when there really isn't much, if anything, wrong with the old one. Our commissions and committees, though, must come up with something to do or they may find themselves dissolved.
So I propose that we suspend the work of almost every single commission, committee and board for the next three years unless the work is clearly missional. I also believe we can do most of this kind of work electronically. Face to face meetings are really great but conference calls, emails and skype will drastically reduce expenditures. Consolidating efforts - for instance, information gathering which is done well by Church Pension and the State of the Church group might join forces and produce one report - would reduce duplication and save hundreds of trees.
And then when we come together for the General Convention of 2012, we can consider whether we have managed nicely without certain CCABs or whether they need to be reactivated. Would it be so bad, for instance, if the Standing Commission on Liturgy and Music didn't produce a new addition to the Enriching Our Worship series or revise The Book of Occasional Services? Can we manage to survive with the current Book of Common Prayer, the five EOW books, Lesser Feasts and Fasts and the current Book of Occasional Services for three to six years? I think the answer is probably yes.
Of course, the hardest thing in the world is to stop a group from meeting after they have gotten used to doing so regularly. And there just might be groups whose work we would miss. But we will never know unless we try to get along without them and redirect our focus outward.
And that's my nickel's worth!
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Casting lots
Do you remember the last time we read of anyone casting lots? Yup, it was the soldiers trying to decide who would get Jesus’ cloak. Casting lots is an ancient way of making decisions. It is similar to flipping a coin or eeny-meeny-miny-mo. It is drawing straws or tossing the dice. Casting lots is relying on the old ways to move the new way forward.
We might ask why Peter thought there had to be twelve disciples but he doesn’t really explain his reasons other than to say that they need to replace Judas.
It is true that there were twelve tribes of Israel and Jesus did call twelve
disciples. So I suppose Peter equated one twelve with the other and, indeed, scholars too have often done so. If that’s the case, then eleven was an insufficient number. Perhaps Peter was wondering how the Holy Spirit, the one to come after Jesus, would know who they were if there weren't twelve.
In fact, Luke says there are about 120 people gathered in that place and Peter set up rather arbitrary qualifications for disciple candidates. The potential disciple has to have been a part of the group from the very beginning, from the banks of the Jordan where Jesus was baptized – an event, by the way, that none of the disciples witnessed – to the crucifixion – another event witnessed by only one of the eleven. So just as the number twelve is arbitrary, so are the qualifications for discipleship.
In any case, prayers are made, lots are cast and Matthias is elected to take Judas’ place. And then we never hear about him again! He is a place holder,
someone to fill the void only.
It appears that the disciples, in this interim period when Jesus is no longer with them but the Holy Spirit has not yet come into their midst, have reverted to old ways instead of praying to discern new ways. And are we any different?
In the Episcopal Church, the process for calling rectors and bishops is relatively similar. A search committee is appointed, names are submitted for consideration, the list is pared down to about three to five people and then a decision is made. Thus it has been for as long as any of us can remember.
Except it hasn’t. Bishops used to place rectors in their parishes and there are still bishops who do that, particularly in mission churches. In our own Diocese, we offersparishes three ways to call a new rector. There’s the standard full search which is the method used most often. There is an option
to have the Diocese submit six to twelve names to the search committee.
And there is the option to choose one of two or three candidates to be priest in charge for one to two years during which the priest and parish discern
whether this is a good fit.
There is a diocese in our church located on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It is a very small, isolated diocese and, over the years, this diocese has developed a way of being church that is called Total Ministry. Total ministry draws on the gifts of all the members of each congregation to get done the work not just of the parish but also much of the work of the priest. You see, there aren’t enough priests to have one celebrate and preach every Sunday. So people have been identified who can preach, teach, administer the parish and do pastoral calling. The gifts of the whole congregation are necessary to be the body of Christ.
Total ministry is a wonderful addition to our understanding of how we are to be the church. It is rooted in the teaching of St. Paul. In the Diocese of East Tennessee, we call it Shared Ministry and there are several parishes who now work this way or have borrowed part of the model to enhance and enrich the ministry of the laity.
Well, back to the Diocese of Northern Michigan. Discernment is critical to the success of total or shared ministry. The vestry doesn’t meet and arbitrarily
decide that Lucy should preach and Horatio should make pastoral visits. No, over a period of as much as two years the whole congregation meets in prayer
to do the work that will help them hear the Spirit’s voice, will, in effect, elect
the right person for each job.
Just a few months ago, this diocese elected a new bishop. Their previous bishop, Jim McElvey, died in June of 2007. Normally, we would instantly begin the process of electing a new bishop. But Northern Michigan, fully invested in the discernment process of total ministry, decided to use that same
process to find their new bishop.
And it worked. One name was put forward as the person who should be the next bishop. A special convention was called and the Diocese concurred with the discernment committee’s decision.
But the rest of The Episcopal Church, a majority of whose dioceses have to consent to the election of every new bishop, immediately had fits. How, we asked Northern Michigan, can you have an election if there is but one name on the ballot?
Northern Michigan dared to do a new thing, to trust that the way the Spirit has been moving in their Diocese would effectively lead to the right person for the job of bishop. But the rest of us want to cast lots. We like the old ways and aren’t interested in learning new ones.
Sometimes, we have to change. Sometimes the old casting of lots needs to make way for the new discernment through the Spirit. This lesson, of course, doesn’t just apply to how we elect bishops and clergy. It isn’t even just about how we organize our churches.
Life is not meant to be static. I once knew someone who washed all her clothes with hot water because that is how the washer was set when it was installed. But sometimes you need cold or even warm water and most of us don’t use hot water much at all. Her argument was that it came that way and so that’s the way it would be used.
We don’t come with carefully defined never to be changed settings. If that were the case, we would all still be in diapers. The fact that we are supposed to change and grow and keep on learning is not a new idea for any of us. But the fact that the changes and the growth and the learning are guided by God through the work of the Spirit just might be.
Sure, we believe the Spirit guides us in spiritual decisions but we have carefully divided our lives into sections. There is the spiritual section in which God is present and active and there is the worldly or everyday section which I control myself, making decisions with the help sometimes of other people but this is not God’s area of expertise.
Well, that’s just not true! All of life is spiritual and God is in all of it. It goes back to the notion of abiding that we have heard in the gospel readings the last two weeks. In fact, that is what Jesus is still talking about in this week’s reading; he just uses different words.
We are God’s and so God abides in us. Therefore, it is right and good to make decisions and changes in conversation and partnership with God. And sometimes God helps us to realize that the old ways are just that – old. They were right for their time, served their purpose, but now we need to put them away and seek new ways to do what we are called to do.
Listening for God is one of the hardest things we are called to do. But it is also one of the most rewarding. Because God opens doors and windows we didn’t know were there. God takes us to surprising places along with people we never thought we would share the journey with.
What are the old ways that don’t work for us anymore? How might the Spirit be calling us? We will never know unless we decide to listen.
We might ask why Peter thought there had to be twelve disciples but he doesn’t really explain his reasons other than to say that they need to replace Judas.
It is true that there were twelve tribes of Israel and Jesus did call twelve
disciples. So I suppose Peter equated one twelve with the other and, indeed, scholars too have often done so. If that’s the case, then eleven was an insufficient number. Perhaps Peter was wondering how the Holy Spirit, the one to come after Jesus, would know who they were if there weren't twelve.
In fact, Luke says there are about 120 people gathered in that place and Peter set up rather arbitrary qualifications for disciple candidates. The potential disciple has to have been a part of the group from the very beginning, from the banks of the Jordan where Jesus was baptized – an event, by the way, that none of the disciples witnessed – to the crucifixion – another event witnessed by only one of the eleven. So just as the number twelve is arbitrary, so are the qualifications for discipleship.
In any case, prayers are made, lots are cast and Matthias is elected to take Judas’ place. And then we never hear about him again! He is a place holder,
someone to fill the void only.
It appears that the disciples, in this interim period when Jesus is no longer with them but the Holy Spirit has not yet come into their midst, have reverted to old ways instead of praying to discern new ways. And are we any different?
In the Episcopal Church, the process for calling rectors and bishops is relatively similar. A search committee is appointed, names are submitted for consideration, the list is pared down to about three to five people and then a decision is made. Thus it has been for as long as any of us can remember.
Except it hasn’t. Bishops used to place rectors in their parishes and there are still bishops who do that, particularly in mission churches. In our own Diocese, we offersparishes three ways to call a new rector. There’s the standard full search which is the method used most often. There is an option
to have the Diocese submit six to twelve names to the search committee.
And there is the option to choose one of two or three candidates to be priest in charge for one to two years during which the priest and parish discern
whether this is a good fit.
There is a diocese in our church located on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. It is a very small, isolated diocese and, over the years, this diocese has developed a way of being church that is called Total Ministry. Total ministry draws on the gifts of all the members of each congregation to get done the work not just of the parish but also much of the work of the priest. You see, there aren’t enough priests to have one celebrate and preach every Sunday. So people have been identified who can preach, teach, administer the parish and do pastoral calling. The gifts of the whole congregation are necessary to be the body of Christ.
Total ministry is a wonderful addition to our understanding of how we are to be the church. It is rooted in the teaching of St. Paul. In the Diocese of East Tennessee, we call it Shared Ministry and there are several parishes who now work this way or have borrowed part of the model to enhance and enrich the ministry of the laity.
Well, back to the Diocese of Northern Michigan. Discernment is critical to the success of total or shared ministry. The vestry doesn’t meet and arbitrarily
decide that Lucy should preach and Horatio should make pastoral visits. No, over a period of as much as two years the whole congregation meets in prayer
to do the work that will help them hear the Spirit’s voice, will, in effect, elect
the right person for each job.
Just a few months ago, this diocese elected a new bishop. Their previous bishop, Jim McElvey, died in June of 2007. Normally, we would instantly begin the process of electing a new bishop. But Northern Michigan, fully invested in the discernment process of total ministry, decided to use that same
process to find their new bishop.
And it worked. One name was put forward as the person who should be the next bishop. A special convention was called and the Diocese concurred with the discernment committee’s decision.
But the rest of The Episcopal Church, a majority of whose dioceses have to consent to the election of every new bishop, immediately had fits. How, we asked Northern Michigan, can you have an election if there is but one name on the ballot?
Northern Michigan dared to do a new thing, to trust that the way the Spirit has been moving in their Diocese would effectively lead to the right person for the job of bishop. But the rest of us want to cast lots. We like the old ways and aren’t interested in learning new ones.
Sometimes, we have to change. Sometimes the old casting of lots needs to make way for the new discernment through the Spirit. This lesson, of course, doesn’t just apply to how we elect bishops and clergy. It isn’t even just about how we organize our churches.
Life is not meant to be static. I once knew someone who washed all her clothes with hot water because that is how the washer was set when it was installed. But sometimes you need cold or even warm water and most of us don’t use hot water much at all. Her argument was that it came that way and so that’s the way it would be used.
We don’t come with carefully defined never to be changed settings. If that were the case, we would all still be in diapers. The fact that we are supposed to change and grow and keep on learning is not a new idea for any of us. But the fact that the changes and the growth and the learning are guided by God through the work of the Spirit just might be.
Sure, we believe the Spirit guides us in spiritual decisions but we have carefully divided our lives into sections. There is the spiritual section in which God is present and active and there is the worldly or everyday section which I control myself, making decisions with the help sometimes of other people but this is not God’s area of expertise.
Well, that’s just not true! All of life is spiritual and God is in all of it. It goes back to the notion of abiding that we have heard in the gospel readings the last two weeks. In fact, that is what Jesus is still talking about in this week’s reading; he just uses different words.
We are God’s and so God abides in us. Therefore, it is right and good to make decisions and changes in conversation and partnership with God. And sometimes God helps us to realize that the old ways are just that – old. They were right for their time, served their purpose, but now we need to put them away and seek new ways to do what we are called to do.
Listening for God is one of the hardest things we are called to do. But it is also one of the most rewarding. Because God opens doors and windows we didn’t know were there. God takes us to surprising places along with people we never thought we would share the journey with.
What are the old ways that don’t work for us anymore? How might the Spirit be calling us? We will never know unless we decide to listen.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
liturgy and fiction
It seems to me that authors are skimping on their research these days. I remember when I worked at the State Library in Florida an author called to check train schedules from the early 20th century. I was impressed she was going to that much "trouble" since I was pretty sure most of the people who might remember when trains arrived and departed stations in Florida at that time would likely be dead. Still, she was doing her research.
In recent years, glaring errors in liturgy and clerical dress in fiction seem to jump out at me. Are there more of them or am I just more sensitive now that I am a priest? Rita Mae Brown had her Lutheran priest wearing a green surplice once. Green! And Laura Childs' most recent book has a funeral set at Grace in Charleston that would likely never happen in an Episcopal Church. The funeral director preceded the casket down the aisle, it was set crosswise at the steps to the chancel and the "minister" was wearing a black suit with a white notched collar!
So why can't authors research liturgy before writing about it? In traditions with a book of worship, it's easy to find out what the prayers would be and how the service would be conducted. As far as dress goes, most clergy would probably be happy to have someone ask them what they wear to do a funeral or a wedding or even Sunday services.
Okay, I'm climbing down from my soapbox now. Sometimes you just have to vent. :-)
In recent years, glaring errors in liturgy and clerical dress in fiction seem to jump out at me. Are there more of them or am I just more sensitive now that I am a priest? Rita Mae Brown had her Lutheran priest wearing a green surplice once. Green! And Laura Childs' most recent book has a funeral set at Grace in Charleston that would likely never happen in an Episcopal Church. The funeral director preceded the casket down the aisle, it was set crosswise at the steps to the chancel and the "minister" was wearing a black suit with a white notched collar!
So why can't authors research liturgy before writing about it? In traditions with a book of worship, it's easy to find out what the prayers would be and how the service would be conducted. As far as dress goes, most clergy would probably be happy to have someone ask them what they wear to do a funeral or a wedding or even Sunday services.
Okay, I'm climbing down from my soapbox now. Sometimes you just have to vent. :-)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Love one another
Once again this Sunday, the lessons are about love. Peter's declaration that "Truly God shows no partiality" seems to cry out for an institutional response. But I think my job this week is to tie together loving as God loves us to removing boundaries and barriers on a more personal level. I need to help my parishioners realize that the Holy Spirit is working in their lives to help tear down barriers that God did not build in the first place and how seeing each other through the love of God that we know in ourselves is the only way for that to happen short of an experience like Peter's. And I think it helps to know that Peter learned the lesson more than once as he backslid on occasion.
Loving as God loves us is, for most of us, a lifelong education. We might think we are doing really well but then we realize that there are still people we aren't loving so much as we are judging them. Where is the line between those two things?
My guess is that there is at least one person in each of our lives that we love deeply, maybe even unconditionally (or as close to that as we humans get), who has done unlovable things. How have we managed to keep the barriers from coming up? How has the love we feel mitigated the circumstances?
I don't know where these thoughts are leading yet. It's only Tuesday, after all, and the Holy Spirit has a few more days to work me into shape.
Loving as God loves us is, for most of us, a lifelong education. We might think we are doing really well but then we realize that there are still people we aren't loving so much as we are judging them. Where is the line between those two things?
My guess is that there is at least one person in each of our lives that we love deeply, maybe even unconditionally (or as close to that as we humans get), who has done unlovable things. How have we managed to keep the barriers from coming up? How has the love we feel mitigated the circumstances?
I don't know where these thoughts are leading yet. It's only Tuesday, after all, and the Holy Spirit has a few more days to work me into shape.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Vines, abiding and loving one another
Abide in me as I abide in you. We don’t talk about abiding much these days. It’s more than living, has a touch of remaining, and, when I looked it up on my computer thesaurus, it’s current use has to do with toleration. The thesaurus says it means to put up with, to stand or to stomach something.
Well, that’s a far cry from what Jesus had in mind. Abide in me as I abide in you is a direct translation of I am the vine and you are the branches. Jesus says that a branch that tries to abide without the vine will be fruitless, won’t be able to do its job and, in fact, will wither and die.
So abiding is a quality of relationship, the relationship that gives us life. Think of it as being in the same skin as Jesus, really being an extension of the Lord. Abiding is more than believing.
It is sharing Jesus’ DNA.
And abiding leads to fruitfulness, an “activity deeply rooted in the soil of God’s grace.” There was once a man who liked people but would rather spend time with his books. He and his wife were new to the town and the wife wanted to make friends with other couples their age. On paper, it sounded like a good plan but sometimes in the middle of a dinner party, the man would find himself drifting in the direction of his library.
Over time, though, he discovered he really liked their new friends and couldn’t imagine life without them. He realized that he was an extension of them. This group got together once a week and they prayed, ate, and played together. They also ministered to their neighborhood
together.
together.
And then, one day, they all decided to move into the city because they felt their gifts –
especially their model of Christian community – were needed there. They began sharing more than ever – cars, food basics and shelter when one apartment or another was being worked on. And good things happened in the city with the help of this community.
Think of them as a kind of family if you will. Or think of them as branches on the same vine,
there to help each other be fruitful.
there to help each other be fruitful.
The hard part about being a branch on Jesus the vine is that it calls for community over individuality. It requires us to understand that abiding in Jesus is not limited to the two of us.
It is not a case of me and my Jesus over here and you and your Jesus over there and we are all doing our own thing. We don't even get to have starring roles and it is not a one person play.
No, the vine is our source of life and the branches are – all together – the rest of the plant. No branch gets to stand out. No branch is immune from pruning done to help us become a better branch. And the pruning is for the whole plant even if it happens only to a single branch.
It is not a case of me and my Jesus over here and you and your Jesus over there and we are all doing our own thing. We don't even get to have starring roles and it is not a one person play.
No, the vine is our source of life and the branches are – all together – the rest of the plant. No branch gets to stand out. No branch is immune from pruning done to help us become a better branch. And the pruning is for the whole plant even if it happens only to a single branch.
We have a hard time with that concept. Our culture has hammered into us the importance
of being me or you so much that we have lost sight of the fact that not being us makes both me and you poorer, can cause us to wither and die.
of being me or you so much that we have lost sight of the fact that not being us makes both me and you poorer, can cause us to wither and die.
There is a small town in Mexico. It is at the base of the mountains and also on a main railroad route. Every day, trains go by the town loaded with agricultural produce, some manufactured goods and people hanging on however they can. These people come from areas of Central America that are so poverty stricken that they are willing to risk everything to make the treacherous and illegal journey into the United States.
When the trains get to this town, they often slow down, I guess because they are beginning the climb into the mountains. And the people of this town take advantage of that slowing down to run out to the train and pass up food and sometimes clothing to those clinging to the train.
The town is not a poor one except perhaps by our standards. The people are happy to share
whatever food they have with these people who, for lack of food, have been driven from their homes. A reporter asked the townspeople how they could be so generous when they might find themselves also without food.
The town is not a poor one except perhaps by our standards. The people are happy to share
whatever food they have with these people who, for lack of food, have been driven from their homes. A reporter asked the townspeople how they could be so generous when they might find themselves also without food.
“Whatever we give, God multiplies,” said one woman. “We help because they are suffering more than we are.”
There are some in the town who do not approve but most everyone is united in doing what they can to help.
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God. Those who abide in love abide in God. Abiding in God requires loving one another even to the point of putting the needs of others
on a par, if not above, our own. We cannot be fruitful just for ourselves. We must be fruitful for God, wherever and however God calls us to do that.
on a par, if not above, our own. We cannot be fruitful just for ourselves. We must be fruitful for God, wherever and however God calls us to do that.
When Philip ran out to join the Ethiopian, he did not go alone. He knew that he was part of a community, that he abided in God. And so it was easy for him to invite the Ethiopian to abide in God, too. And it was that same community, confident in the love of the Lord, that the Ethiopian instinctively knew was what he had been waiting for all of his life.
Abiding is serious business. It can’t be done in a few hours a week and it can’t be about just me and my Jesus. May this bundle of branches come to abide in the vine as we work together to be fruitful for God.
[Many thanks to Meg from RevGalBlogPals and Christian Century for the inspiration.]
Friday, May 1, 2009
Spello
Lee and I asked Sarah, one of our hosts, where we should go on our last day. She said we definitely needed to go to Spello and so off we went. It is not that far away from Trevi and it was nice to have a short drive rather than a relatively long one. We walked up into town and found a wonderful church, Church of Saint Mary Major – not sure what that means but this is definitely a church dedicated to Mary the mother of Jesus. I did find a statue of St. Christopher and took a few pictures without flash. Then I bought a book and some postcards about the rest of the place. There are some famous frescoes and I am currently too dumb to remember who painted them.
Lee decided that, while we had bought wine and we had eaten some fine meals, we had never done a wine tasting. So we wandered into an enoteca – fancy name for place that sells wine but also has great food – and asked if they could do a tasting for us along with lunch. Sure! We sat down at noon and got up at 4:00. In between, we tasted five really good wines and had bruschetta, antipasto tipici (five different kinds of area meats including prosciutto, bacon, salami, and two we don’t know the names of but one was the best “pastrami” I’ve ever eaten), a plate of four different ages of pecorino cheese with pumpkin marmalade, and finally two kinds of lasagna. One was pesto and pine nuts and the other was traditional but nothing like I make or anyone else in the States. And, as you might have guessed would happen, we decided we needed to take some of the wines home. But, alas, we cannot find a box to carry them in safely as luggage so we have them tucked into our suitcases.
And so we have now made our way back to the States. All the wine arrived safely as did the honey, olive oil, spelt and art work. I did manage to get toothpaste on my pashmina but it has washed out nicely, too.
Lee decided that, while we had bought wine and we had eaten some fine meals, we had never done a wine tasting. So we wandered into an enoteca – fancy name for place that sells wine but also has great food – and asked if they could do a tasting for us along with lunch. Sure! We sat down at noon and got up at 4:00. In between, we tasted five really good wines and had bruschetta, antipasto tipici (five different kinds of area meats including prosciutto, bacon, salami, and two we don’t know the names of but one was the best “pastrami” I’ve ever eaten), a plate of four different ages of pecorino cheese with pumpkin marmalade, and finally two kinds of lasagna. One was pesto and pine nuts and the other was traditional but nothing like I make or anyone else in the States. And, as you might have guessed would happen, we decided we needed to take some of the wines home. But, alas, we cannot find a box to carry them in safely as luggage so we have them tucked into our suitcases.
And so we have now made our way back to the States. All the wine arrived safely as did the honey, olive oil, spelt and art work. I did manage to get toothpaste on my pashmina but it has washed out nicely, too.
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