DaddyRoBlog

Love Unknown

As of tomorrow, I will have been writing this blog for seven years. One of my guiding principles in doing so is Romans 12: 18. “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” For Christians, this command is binding upon us.

Anyway, because I blog with this verse in mind, I often try to write to as wide an audience as possible. Today, however, as we consider the first confession of the Litany of Penitence, I write specifically to Christians.

There are many who read this blog who do not believe in God. I understand and respect that, and you need read no further, because what comes next will surely seem like foolishness. I get that.

There are also many who read the blog from different faith perspectives. I appreciate that also, and it may well be that the following will apply to you as well. But I would not presume to critique your faith practices from the perspective of an outsider.

For Christians, however, I think this first confession—and indeed the first line of this confession—cuts right to the very heart of the matter. I think it just may be that the larger church, no matter what denomination or non-denomination (or is it just me?), is more in danger of losing sight of God than ever.  The first stanza reads:

We have not loved you with our whole heart, and
mind, and strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We
have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.

As commentary on these words, I offer you the following. If you are a Christian devoted to following Jesus, I hope you will join me in thinking about them carefully and deeply, allowing them to correct us where we have gone astray.

Am I correct in asserting that most of our attention and energy spreads out on the horizontal level? We are zealous for creating community, for fostering parish life, for promoting social justice whether at home or on the international level and for all works of mercy and, indeed, we cannot be truly Christians without such concerns. Yet perhaps we should ask ourselves if we are not too taken up with our own initiatives and activities, with our own good works, and fail somewhat in attention to the first commandment, that we must love God with our whole heart, soul, mind and strength. Unless the first commandment dominates our life and motivates our concerns, then there is danger of our just beating the air.

Ruth Burrows (2011-11-17). Love Unknown: The Archbishop of Canterbury’s Lent Book 2012 (pp. 115-116). Continuum UK. Kindle Edition.

What One Pastor Thinks

There’s a poem circulating now called “an atheist on a date”. It goes like this:

“an atheist on a date”

i kissed a girl
wearing a cross
around her neck
her lips didn’t taste
like church
but her hips
felt like god
i wonder what
her pastor would
have thought
i wonder if that
cross around her neck
meant more to me
than it does
to her.

The poem asks two questions. I’d like to take a respectful shot at answering them. To do so, we need to take the second question first. Does the cross mean more to the atheist than the cross-bearer? I think the answer needs to be “no.” It’s the betrayal of faith in God that makes this poem work, I think.  If it’s just another person wearing a piece of jewelry that means nothing to her, it’s hard to see what would be of interest in this scenario.

So assuming this person wears a cross for the same reason she goes to church, because she takes her faith in God seriously, I can probably tell you how her pastor would feel.

He’d be very sad.

He’d be sad because whatever a person does or doesn’t believe about God, he’d know this girl betrayed herself. He’d know this because over the years he would have talked to many girls, some who went to church and just as many who didn’t, who gave up some important belief or part of themselves just to be with a boy.

And he would know that over time, they would come to realize it is never worth it.

(I should probably add that he would have also talked to many boys who would have done the same thing for the sake of a girl. It's the common principle, shared both by those who are religious and those who are not, that I'm trying to get at here.)

Do people change?

It’s a question that, like most questions that have persisted down through the ages, is open to debate. But here’s what I know: IF people do change, it ALWAYS starts with a confession. (I am speaking here about a person making an intentional change in his character towards the end of bettering herself).

How could it be otherwise? For a person to make such a change, he must confess (admit, acknowledge) that something is a problem in the first place. She must say that this thought, action, or habit is hurtful, destructive, or otherwise damaging, and therefore she choses to be free from it. He must say that the path he is on is not taking him where he wants to go, and therefore he is going to change course.

That’s why the season of Lent the Litany of Penitence begins with confession. The great hope of Lent is change; that we will be different people going out than we were coming in. It’s sort of like doing the P90X workout for six weeks; the idea is that there will be a noticeable difference at the end.

And so the Litany opens:

Most holy and merciful Father:
We confess to you and to one another,
and to the whole communion of saints
in heaven and on earth,
that we have sinned by our own fault
in thought, word, and deed;
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.

Notice that the God to whom we confess is a holy and merciful Father. In other words, this God isn’t interested in punishing us, but wants to help us change every bit as much (or more) than we do. It makes me sad to see the memes and ideas that often percolate about who God is, because they are so often off the mark.

Notice also that we confess not only to God, but also to each other. Again, I think pretty much anyone I have ever known who has made a significant change for the better in their live has needed the help of others. It begins with admitting our problem not only to God, but to at least one other human being as well. Change is just too hard to successfully accomplish on our own.

And finally, notice that this confession admits the problem is mine and mine alone. I do not blame anyone else for it, or blame society for it, or blame my genes for it. To the contrary, I take full responsibility for it, or response-ability as some have said.

I believe people do change. I believe I have seen it happen. I’d like to think that by God’s grace and with his help, I’ve changed as well. But in virtually every instance I know of, to make the kind of changes we are talking about here requires the kind of steps the Litany asks us to make.

I Need Somebody

A confession: I need help.

Truth is, I expect you do too.

I’m not saying that we don’t have great lives. Most of us do. In fact, I don’t think it would be too hard to make a convincing argument that we are some of the most highly privileged, deeply blessed, and incredibly fortunate people who have ever lived.

But I am saying that even in the midst of having every advantage and opportunity, there are still parts of our lives—and often very important parts of our lives—that we wish were better. Most of us, if we are honest, have parts of our lives—and again, often very important parts of our lives—that cause us no small amount of pain.

Of course, part of the advantage and privilege we enjoy is that we live in an age with means of distraction that are unparalleled both in number and availability. Which is to say, we can avoid our pain pretty easily if we wish. But it is still there, and none of us manage to evade it entirely. Sometime it comes in that moment when we realize we have everything we ever wanted—and likely more!—and it is still not enough…

I’m guessing, therefore, that if we are honest, most of us will admit that as terrific as our lives are, there are still some important areas of our lives that may not be terrific at all. Even more than that, for me at least, it’s the admission that at least part of the reason this is so is because there are parts of me that are… well, broken. They just don’t work as well as I wish. It may be such things as ways of thinking, fears or anxieties, destructive habits or addictions, struggles with anger or impatience, loneliness or feeling like I’m an impostor, but whatever they  are, they do not serve me-- or anybody else for that matter!--well.

This humble and honest admission brings us to the ancient concept of “penitence.” Penitence is a willingness to own up to our faults and failings, to acknowledge the grief and sorrow they cause us and others, and to ask for help. It will come as no surprise that I take this one step further still, believing that the help we often seek comes only from a Power Greater than Ourselves. Or more simply, from God. I believe that because I know how much I have needed God's help and assistance in my own life, and that my life would look very, very different than it does now without it.

So for the season of Lent, I’m going to be writing about one line of The Litany (prayer) of Penitence a day. My hope is that this will be one more way that we can cut through the distractions, be honest with ourselves, and—wherever it is that we find it—seek the help we need.

The Bunny

The Bunny from Rob Merola on Vimeo.

We started a new sermon series today for the season of Lent called "Keeping Score."  The above video stars The Bunny and shows how we started it off.  Because I don't know how to edit video on Vimeo yet, it starts with a "blooper".   The second take begins at 30 seconds.

BTW, one of our very creative parishioners put together a more polished version of this.  You can find it on our Facebook site, St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, Sterling.    I can't tell you how deeply it blesses me when parishioners get into it like this; it's every priest's dream, I think. 

Oh, and Grey is up next week--and he's promising a response...  

 

The Rabbit Is In the House

This week our Gospel reading tells us that Jesus was in the wilderness with wild beasts. It seems only appropriate, then, that we have a rabbit with us for our services.

Oh, make no mistake: rabbits can be fierce creatures! Anyone who has seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail knows that. They will no doubt remember when the brave men of valor had to enter a cave “guarded by a creature so foul, so cruel that no man yet has fought with it and lived!” They are furthered warned, “Bones of forty or fifty men lie strewn about its lair. So, brave knights, if you do doubt your courage or your strength, come no further, for death awaits you all with nasty big pointy teeth.”

In the next scene, at the mouth of the cave, Tim exclaims to King Arthur, “There he is!”

King Arthur asks, “What? Behind the rabbit?”

Tim replies ominously, “It *is* the rabbit!”

Anyone who has seen the movie will remember what happens next. Suffice it say this scene ends with fewer knights than it started, and with those knights yelling “Run away! Run away!”

I believe that it was a fine preacher by the name of Barbara Brown Taylor who said that when people are out alone in the pitch black dark of the wilderness, with strange noises and terrible creatures like this, “everyone finds out what their pacifiers are—the habits, substances or surroundings they use to comfort themselves, to block out the pain and fear.”

The wilderness, then, is a place that removes the pacifiers we cling to even as adults. It does so in order that we can better face our fears. It brings us to that place where we can better recognize those areas of life that aren’t working.   Then, with God’s help,  we  can begin to work through them.

I think that would make a pretty good sermon, but that’s not actually the sermon we’ll be preaching tomorrow. No, appropriate though that may be, our bunny will put to use in a very different way, in the service of a very different message.

But to find out how, and to find out what that message will be, you’ll just have to join us! (Or if you don’t live in the area,  you can read the sermon when it is posted online, of course.)

Don't Come Around Here No More

When you think of a Northern Flicker, yellow may not be the color that comes to mind (especially if you live in the west where the feather shafts will be red).  The red gash behind the neck, the distinctive black scallops on the grayish-brown back, or the white rump while flying are what we generally see. 

But in the east, at least, these birds do have an amazing amount of bright yellow to their feathers.  It's generally only visible when they fly (and even then it tends to be the aforementioned white rump that catches the eye), but I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to catch this guy fluffing up.  Actually, if I'd been just a moment quicker, I would have caught him squaring off with a red-bellied woodpecker who he successfully managed to scare away.

Perhaps the Way to the Heart Really Is Through the Stomach?

Several years ago, St. Matt’s did a couple mission trips to Belize. While there, women from the local village where we were working cooked for us every day. Our evening meals always involved some form of protein such as chicken or fish,  as well as rice, beans, and tortillas-- and were they ever good.

The combination of delicious food and hard work often had us going back for seconds and sometimes even thirds. It didn’t take us long to finish off the food they prepared for us.

Then one night after dinner we noticed what the women were feeding their own kids: crackers with ketchup on them. That was their meal.

I think there was enough food for all of us. But for the women and children to have meat as well, we would have had to consume less. We would have had to be willing to sacrifice having all that we could have so that others could have something too. We would have had to be more aware of those around us, of their neediness, and of our ability to do something about it.

My problem is that when I get back in America and am surround by abundance once again, I forget these things.

Lent is an opportunity to remember. In giving up certain foods, and perhaps fasting as well, we are reminded we don’t always need as much as we think we do. We may lose some weight by the time Lent is over, but none of us are in danger of starving.

My prayer is that there is an inverse relationship between my waist and my heart. As the one grows smaller, I hope the other grows bigger. I hope I do a better job of remembering those less fortunate than myself, and how simple it is to help them.

Tales from the Streets

Grey is a tall, handsome young man who is in training to be a priest. (He’s what I looked like years ago. Well, except the tall part. And maybe the handsome part too. But I’m pretty sure I was young once…)

Anyway, Grey was with me at the corner of Route 7 and Sterling Boulevard, administering the Imposition of Ashes. A car with several attractive young ladies pulled up to the light, windows down. They see Grey standing there and call out, “Hey, we want some!”

Grey walks ups to the car and says, “So you’d like some ashes?”

“Ashes?” they reply, surprised. Whatever they thought he was doing, clearly this is not it.

But Grey pushes on, telling them it is Ash Wednesday, showing them the ashes, explaining their significance, and finally concluding by asking if they’d like him to make the sign of the cross in ashes on their foreheads.

“You want to do that to me?!!” the driver exclaims incredulously. They drive on, and do not receive ashes.

***    ***    ***

Another car stops at the light. It is a woman, speaking in broken English. She is going to her second of three jobs. “I did not think this could happen,” she says, pointing to the ashes and asking "Me?" I  nod, say a quick prayer with her, and administer ashes, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” She is absolutely radiant, smiling from ear to ear.  “Thank you,” she says, and repeats, “I did not think this could happen!”

***    ***    ***

A truck full of construction workers pull up. They are filthy from a hard day’s work; a day that apparently is not over yet over. They’ll never be able to finish up, get home, shower, and get to church on time. So they roll down their window and call, “Father!” I run over, watching the light, trying to judge how much time we have before it turns green. “Will you please give us ashes, Father?” they ask. And I do, half my body leaning in through the window, my feet off the ground, so I can reach to the young men sitting on the other side. I ask God to bless and keep them as he blesses and keeps all who turn to him. They nod their head emphatically, with a surprising amount of energy for men who looked so tired only a moment before.

I pop back out of the vehicle. The light turns green, and off they go. I think, “Why me, Lord? Why should I be so fortunate to enjoy such a holy moment, to be so deeply blessed?”

On Being Ourselves...

Every year at the start of Lent I post the following piece by Frederick Buechner. I have found that it brings a focus both to Lent and to life that is very helpful, and so I commend it to you once again.

In many cultures there is an ancient custom of giving a tenth of each year’s income to some holy use. For Christians, to observe the forty days of Lent is do the same thing with roughly a tenth of each year’s days. After being baptized by John in the river Jordan, Jesus went off alone into the wilderness where he spent forty days asking himself the question what it meant to be Jesus.   During Lent, Christians are supposed to ask one way or another what it means to be themselves.

If you had to bet everything you have on whether there is a God or whether there isn’t, which side would get your money and why?

When you look at your face in the mirror, what do you see in it that you most like and what do you see in it that you most deplore?

If you had only one last message to leave to the handful of people who are most important to you, what would it be in twenty-five words or less?

Of all the things you have done in your life, which it the one you would most like to undo? Which is the one that makes you happiest to remember?

Is there any person in the world, or any cause, that, if circumstances called for it, you would be willing to die for? If this were the last day of your life, what would you do with it?

To hear yourself try to answer questions like these is to begin to hear something not only of who you are but of both what you are becoming and what you are failing to become. It can be a pretty depressing business all in all, but if sack-cloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.