PT Reflections

I love vacations. Getting away from the routine and visiting new places always gives me a thrill.  But, as much as I love visiting friends and seeing cool stuff, I love availing myself of public transportation.  While we were in San Francisco, Steve and I made our way around the City thanks to MUNI busses and cable cars.  Our $21, 3-day pass got us everywhere we wanted to go for less than the cost of one night’s parking fee. 

Of course, “PT” is not as beloved out here in the Midwest, the home of Ford, Chrysler, and General Motors.  Buses and trains take the place of cars, you know.  For me, that’s the point.  I’ve never been a fan of driving.  It’s something I have to do. It’s something I’d rather someone else did.  I can get a lot of knitting done, or just enjoy the view, when I don’t have to pay attention to the road.

Public transportation holds another advantage for me.  It puts me in touch with a city’s people.  The cable cars are a fun treat for a tourist, but they are everyday transportation to a lot of people in the Bay area.  C. S. Lewis used a bus to transport people between heaven and hell in his book The Great Divorce.  On the busses, I saw people of all ages, all colors, all economic strata.  It’s a lot like what I think heaven will be.  (Honestly, I think hell will be like walking up to Nob Hill…never mind that beautiful Grace Cathedral’s at the end of the road! But, I digress…)

I invite you to drive your car to a suburban Park and Ride someday soon.  Don’t take an express bus – it’s full of people just like you. Instead, take a local and travel along with the people who make up this metropolitan area.  Let it be a reminder to you of the diversity of people with whom God has peppered this planet.  Let it help you remember that not all of us share in the advantages of suburban living and that, for many, the bus is their way to work or to the grocery store or to the doctor’s office. 

I wonder.  Perhaps if we had better public transportation, we might have a little better understanding of each other.  Busses and trains certainly cut across a bunch of barriers.  Then, again, are we willing to let those barriers disappear?

It's Inevitable (Sermon for Lent II, Mark 8:31-38)

At first glance, Peter’s concern for Jesus seems to be as one friend to another.  He took him aside to talk with him privately.  There was no public outcry that what Jesus was saying was ridiculous and out of line.  In Mark’s gospel we don’t really know what Peter said.  The rebuke could have been anything from “stop talking like this, we don’t want you to get hurt” to “quit this cross-talk, Lord, I didn’t sign up for this.”

Jesus’ response is rather shocking.  First of all, he used his outside voice so that all could hear.  Second of all, he equated Peter’s rebuke to the will of Satan.  Finally, he directed his message to the entire crowd.  Friends, it is the last piece of the response that frightens me the most.  By relating that Jesus calls the crowd to hear his message, Mark is making it very clear that Jesus is talking to the hearer of the message today as well as the crowd way back then.

There was only one thing that the crowd in first-century Palestine would have understood the directive of taking up one’s cross to be.  It would not be the image as we use it in the 21^st century.  Today, it just rolls off of our tongue when we are talking about something that inconveniences us.  “Well, I guess that’s my cross to bear.” 

Our understanding cannot compare with the cruel, tortuous, bloody death that awaited those who dared threaten the Roman Empire.  This bloody image was one Jesus would have been oh so familiar with, having been somewhere between the ages of 8 and 10 when the Romans crucified thousands of Galileans condemned for insurrection.  Jesus knew full well what he was risking and if was going to be required of him, he knew it would be required of his followers.

It frightens me that I have signed up for this difficult discipleship.  It frightens me that I signed my son up for this as an infant.  It frightens me that our young people will affirm their commitment of this next week.  But it doesn’t frighten me here as much as it would if I were preaching in Syria or the Sudan or in Columbia.  We are relatively safe in our suburban bubble.  Here, our sufferings will most likely be from our own bad choices and not what may be forced upon us.  We’ll not likely lose our lives in the tradition of Perpetua and her Companions or even the Martyrs of Memphis.  Yet, following Jesus does require us to acknowledge two uncomfortable facts:

1)    Suffering is inevitable.  None of us are going to get through this life without some kind of pain.

Of course, we do everything possible to prevent suffering; the pharmaceutical industry is clear evidence of that.  And, there are specific times and reasons for pharmaceutical intervention.   The problem is that when we mask over all kinds or degrees of pain, we lose the lessons that suffering teaches us.  Suffering gives us a glimpse of God’s own Self. 

Martin Luther said that to know God truly is to know God hidden in suffering.  The Buddha taught that suffering is not only pain, grief or despair, but also being separated from what we love, not getting what we want, and being forced into proximity with what we hate.  Suffering can also come from our own self-loathing or fear of what we do not understand.  We can only learn from suffering if we are willing to get close to it.  That’s certainly more easily said than done.

No one wants to suffer; we don’t even want to be near it.  We avoid the places where it happens.  I’ve heard too many stories of people who have been abandoned by people they thought were friends when disaster strikes.  It’s as if cancer, tornados, or violent crime can be transmitted through talking.  Getting too close to suffering reminds us that we may be only a split second away from suffering ourselves. We hover over our children to protect them from being hurt, often to their detriment.  We refuse to see the hungry and the homeless in our own neighborhoods, insisting that these conditions only exist ‘somewhere else’.   We want to believe that gates and security systems can keep out accidents, natural disasters, disability or disease.  Problem is they can’t.

 Jesus didn’t want to suffer either – we need only look at the Garden of Gethsemane to know that.  Yet, without it, redemption is short-circuited.  But, for our redemption, Jesus gave up his will to the Father’s and bore a real cross.  And, that’s what leads me to fact number two:

2)    Something has to die.  

Resurrection isn’t from the living, it’s from the dead.

Jesus was warning his disciples that God’s way is not a way where everything is a bed of roses.  God’s way is to be among those who suffer and die.  Jesus said that the he MUST undergo great suffering. Suffering and death are required.  There are no exceptions for anyone wishing to be his disciple.  Putting our minds on divine things means finding God in those places where we can’t imagine God being: in uncertainty, danger, and suffering. 

For us to find God there, we have to go there. We must toss away our suburban security blankets and wander into worlds that are different from ours.  If we are not suffering ourselves, we need to put our egos aside in order to stand with those who are suffering.  “Not what I want, but what God wants” is the mantra of the Christian disciple.

Experiencing our own suffering allows us to be present for others who are going through similar circumstances.  Therefore, if we mask our suffering, we have denied God’s gift of future ministry for us.  Our egos are all wrapped up in this.  There is a difference between the single parent struggling to make a life for his/her family who accepts the hardship as ministry and the self-absorbed person who says ‘it’s okay, don’t change the light bulb, I’ll suffer in the dark.’  This ministry is not one where we compare our experience to the one in our presence but one where we are silent companions in our knowledge of their pain.  Resurrection in the reign of God hinges on our willingness to let self-centeredness die away in order that we can be open to standing with those who are suffering and, yes, dying.  We know this because Christ’s resurrection means that we can be confident that God is with us when we are uncertain, in danger, or inconsolable.

Karen Armstrong, a British theologian and historian, writes: “If we push suffering away and pretend that the ubiquitous grief of the world has nothing to do with us, we will remain confined in an inferior version of ourselves.”  There is a great gift in standing alongside those who suffer.  Suffering strips away everything that is not authentic.  When we are in partnership with God in these ministries, we see not only God’s true Self but also our own. The question is – will you like what you see?

Take these thoughts away with you this week: Will your Lenten discipline move you closer to Jesus’ requirement of his disciples?  Will your taking on or giving up help you bear the real cross that you are currently experiencing or that may be waiting for you?  If not, it’s not too late to reassess.   And please keep our confirmands in your prayers. Amen.

 

Karen Armstrong in Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life (Fourth Step: Empathy).

(c) 2012 C. B. Park, all rights reserved

rest

I listened today to a fine theologian who was channeling another fine theologian.  I'll leave off the names for now.  It's the message that is important:  America is Babylon.  America is empire.  We have all been assimilated.  In our assimilation we have been rendered silent. Exhaustion, despair, anger, disappointment, and fear have sapped us to the point that we can no longer be imaginative.  The 'borg' know this.  Imagination brings us freedom. Imagination rejuvenates the Self.

It's way too easy to be Type-A-always-busy-being-productive because the empire rewards this behavior. Wait - take that back.  I allow the empire to reward this behavior.  Then, when I'm burned out, it isn't my fault.  I am seduced.

Rest. Rest gives back the Self, the Self that is lost in busyness.  It's okay to just sit.  It's okay to just be.  I can't listen if I'm always talking, always praying for and not just being ready to receive.  It's okay to quietly wait for God.

Give the Spirit Some Room

[This is what happens when your sermon inspiration comes from a Saturday Night Live skit and an adult book about putting children to bed.  Christmas Day 2011/(c) All Rights Reserved C. B. Park]

Gabriel appeared to a maiden

as one candle burned a small flume.

“Don’t be afraid, Mary, you’re favored!

You can give the Spirit some room.

You’ve been chosen by God,” said the angel.

“to lift people out of their gloom.

If you are willing, a child you shall bear

if you give the Holy Spirit some room.”

“How can this be?” said Mary.

“I’m betrothed to Joseph, my groom.

He will not approve of this message

or give the Holy Spirit some room.”

“O’er you shall hover God’s Spirit

and you shall conceive in your womb

a child whose name will be Jesus.

Won’t you please give the Spirit some room?”

And so Mary conceded to Gabriel

permission for God’s Spirit to loom.

Mary bore Jesus in Bethlehem;

the world gave the Spirit some room.

On this gift of a child I ponder

when the world seems headed only for doom

Does my ‘yes’ to God still matter?

Why should I give the Spirit some room?

St. Stephen said yes and they stoned him

His assent led him straight to the tomb

Preaching the Good News is dangerous, friends

Do you dare give the Spirit some room?

The children in Bethlehem did nothing wrong;

Yet Herod prevented their bloom.

Mothers still weep for their children.

Holy Spirit, are you here in this room?

Before we get lost in dark sadness;

Before we descend into gloom;

Recall stories that have given us courage

When the Spirit’s been given some room.

Moses led the slaves out of Egypt;

David’s kingdom did nothing but boom;

The prophets gained a voice for God’s people,

For they gave the Spirit some room

Saint Catherine wrote of her Friendship

with the Lord, whom she knew as her groom.

She’s remembered now, all over Europe

Because she gave the Spirit some room.

Saint Martin de Porres loved all work

even cleaning with brush and with broom.

“Our labors bring us closer to God,” he said.

He gave the Spirit some room.

Martin Luther called Rome to repentance

“Stop this nonsense!” he said with a boom.

“We’re treating God’s people unjustly;

Please give the Spirit some room!”

You and I may never be great saints

Or remembered long after the tomb

But we have the chance to share God’s love

When we give the Spirit some room.

So say yes to the angels around you

Help them to wash away gloom

Share the story of Jesus then wait patiently, friends

Give the Spirit some room.

Amen.

Happiness is a Warm Puppy and Baby Jesus

Okay, she's not a puppy, but she is warm.  Abby is snuggled up next to me on my sofa. I realize that many people frown upon animals who sit where people sit, but I don't think there's anything more soothing than petting a furry head.  Zac - the older one - is sleeping on his bed near the hearth.  His days of sofa are long gone and we both know that if he sees another Christmas it will be a miracle.  Christmas is constant; so is the cycle of life.

It's never easy to celebrate the holidays when you are aware of who isn't there.  This year, we miss our Val - the sheltie who came with Zac, but left us in September.  Other years it's been a grandparent or a parent or a sibling.  Future years will be the same.  Christmas is constant; so is the cycle of life.

The hope that comes with the Word made flesh is constant.  When emotions betray me, I close my eyes and go to the manger.  Jesus cries, just like me.  I pick up this small child and hold him to my heart and we comfort each other. 

When I open my eyes again, Abby looks at me like she understands.  God was present in the manger.  You have to wonder if 'dog' was too.

Mean ol' Flu

Time flies whether you're having fun or not.  Just where did November go?  I think it is somewhere over the rainbow amidst a diocesan convention, a myriad of meetings, and (oh yes) a major holiday. 
It should come as no surprise that I've spent the last 2 days sick.  Flu overtook me and, although I protested, flung me into bed with chills and aches and exhaustion. 

"But, Flu, my parents are here.  I don't have time for you."

"You are not in control at the moment."

"Flu, this isn't fair.  I have to work on Sunday."

"Life's not fair. Neither am I."

"How about this then - Kevin invited his friend Clayton and his family over for dinner.  I can't be a good hostess if I'm in bed with you."


"Kevin can cook. You taught him. So there. I have you now."

No one can argue with Flu.  Don't even try.

Running without Stumbling

There is a difference between stumbling and falling.  I’m well known for stumbling up stairs or tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. I look stupid and scare people who are with me. Usually I regain my balance and amble on my way no worse for wear. 

However, nine years ago, I fell. And, it was awful.

I was in Pasadena, California, touring with the then sales manager of the convention and visitors bureau.  Ken is a lot like the genie in Disney’s Aladdin.  He’s full of energy (among other things) and always had something new to show me about the city he represented.  It was nearly dusk when he was hustling me toward the cactus garden at the Huntington Gardens estate.  I stepped on the curb instead of the sidewalk, my shoe flew out from under me and I landed face-first on the asphalt.  Yes, I am an official site-visit nightmare.

I was so embarrassed.  I was bleeding, of course.  My glasses were mangled. My pants were torn. My ankle was twisted and I would wake up the next morning to a huge black eye.  The good news was that we hadn’t gotten into the cactus garden yet.  Thank you Jesus. 

I apologized over and over for being such a klutz.  Ken took care of me, bought me bandages, took me to a place that unmangled my glasses so I could see to get home, and he even helped me buy a new pair of pants at the local Macy’s.  Ken was great and we are friends to this day and we send each other cards with cactus themes.  I don’t like falling or stumbling, but given the choice – I’d much rather stumble than fall.

There’s a difference also in whether or not you have stumbled over your own two feet or if someone has put something in your path.  If I’m honest with myself, both my stumble and my fall were due to the fact that I was tired and not watching where I was going.  I was in a hurry, too, in both cases.  There was too much to see and too little time to see it.

It’s the lack of attention and focus that gets us into trouble isn’t it?  We have to be careful about what is lying about and whether we’ve left it there or not. I don’t want to trip over something that someone has set in front of me, nor do I want to put anything into someone’s path that might cause them to stumble.  That’s true pragmatically and theologically because Jesus doesn’t have kind words to say about people who trip others up.

To be fair, Jesus didn’t disagree with the teachings of the Pharisees.  His ministry was all about loving God and loving neighbor. His problem was with the Pharisees’ behavior.  They didn’t walk the talk, to put it in the vernacular.  Actually, it was worse.  They forgot who they were and what their position required of them according to the law.

Wrapped in their stately garments and high positions, they saw themselves as more deserving than the rank and file.  They acted so as to be noticed by others and insisted on being greeted with special titles.  They refused to interpret the law in a way that invited a wider range of options for a larger population.  All of this was to show that they held the more honorable position because of their wealth, their education, or their experience.  In other words, they believed that they deserved special attention and made it obvious to one and all. These conspicuous displays of ego were meant to remind the “little people” that they were “little people” – people who had no honor.

Jesus would have none of that.  For him and his followers, all people were created in the image of God, whether or not they had long phylacteries.

The powerful people of the time were placing stumbling blocks in the paths of those who supported them with their offerings.  Jesus, in his accusations, was telling the Pharisees that they had forgotten that they were equal in the sight of God and had no more honor than the widows and orphans, the sick or those who labored.  At the same time, he was telling those who felt that they had no honor that in God’s dominion they shared honor with the powerful.  Everyone had a place of honor in the eyes of God.  It’s no wonder that the powerful people were ready to kill Jesus.

That we all have a place of honor in the eyes of God takes me back to the collect.  We are all honorable because we have all been gifted by God.

Our collect was translated from the Latin by our beloved Archbishop Cranmer and revised by several people throughout the centuries. The word “gift” here can take several meaning and gives us some new things to think about.  “Gift” was what was translated from the Latin “munus”.  This is not to be confused with something that we tie up with a ribbon and put under a tree or near a birthday cake.  This “gift” is “a service, office, post, employment, function, or duty.”¹  Think “municipality”.

These duties or obligations are those acts that one does on behalf of society as a whole.  In a Christian context, these would be duties or obligations on behalf of the community.  But when you really think about it, the lines between Christian community and society are very thin and quite permeable.

The gift God gives us is in the calling to be responsive to our neighbors’ needs. To take up the cross is to put your own ego to the side in order that you can concentrate on running without stumbling to the aide of someone in need.  The needs of others are diverse.  It may be food and shelter. It may be a complement on a bad day.  It may be a referral or sage advice.  Without a doubt, this gift is to call us over and over again to take seriously our baptismal vows and strive to bring God’s kingdom just a little closer to us at this point in eternity.

Our striving shall not be losing if we keep our focus on eternity and not allow our own or another’s ego to trip us up or cause us to fall into despair.  Oh, we will stumble on occasion. We may even bleed a bit. Don’t forget that Jesus fell three times under the weight of his cross.  But despite his anguish, Jesus had his mission and nothing would deter him from it.  Therefore, if we take time for Sabbath, keep ourselves healthy spiritually, physically, and mentally, we can respond to that call from God to love our neighbors as ourselves knowing that if we dash our foot against a stone (or try to fall into a cactus garden) someone will be there for us as well.

Amen.

¹The Rev. John Zuhldorf. “Fr. Z’s Blog: Slavishly accurate liturgical translations and frank commentary on Catholic issues.” http://wdtprs.com/blog/2010/10/wdtprs-31st-ordinary-sunday-running...stumbling

(c) 2011 C. B. Park  All rights reserved