Raygan Baker's Ordination: A Charge to the Candidate

Raygan Baker Ordination Charge

April 26, 2015 

Dorothy Day reminds us that, “A custom once existed among the first generations of Christians, when faith was a bright fire that warmed more than those who kept it burning. In every house then a room was kept ready for any stranger who might ask for shelter; it was even called “the stranger’s room.” Not because these people thought they could trace something of someone they loved in the stranger who used it, not because the man or woman to whom they gave shelter reminded them of Christ, but because—plain and simple and stupendous fact—he or she was Christ.” 

Raygan, today is one of those days that will mark for you, for the rest of your life in ministry, the call to the fire warming hospitality that Dorothy Day described, but rather than reflecting upon an empty room that remains ready by firelight it will be marked by the open spaces in your heart that have been made ready, that have been set apart for the work to which you have been called, that have gracefully been there all along, widening your capacity to love, to embrace, to receive, and welcome the stranger-as he or she is Christ.

Christine Pohl writes in Making Room: Recovering Hospitality as a Christian Tradition that Jesus’ words in Matthew 25:35, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me,” do not refer to any particular physical location for hospitality. Instead, the verse challenges us to examine our practices of welcome to strangers in every setting. Jesus’ words are more closely associated with relationship than with location. A first step in making a place for hospitality may be to make room in our hearts. Whether or not we can always find room in our houses, welcome begins with dispositions characterized by love and generosity.

Raygan, you are not a foreigner on this shelter-seeking road, fighting yourself for a place at the table, for refuge, and welcome, for acceptance and equality. And as a stranger in a world that has all but abandoned her call “to let her hospitality and good works abound,” as Augustine proclaimed, you have chosen to remain faithful to Gods’ call upon your life, to enter into the most fragile of places where human life is at it’s most vulnerable and transformative states. The church has always and will continue to struggle to embody this call of welcoming the stranger, of embracing the other, of opening wide the doors of grace that have been opened for each of us. 

Raygan, yours is a heart like the strangers’ fire lit room, yours is a spirit made ready to guide the church into places where her fire can burn bright, where her doors can fling open with the truth of God’s love, and where her invitation can be made easily accessible to those outside who find themselves on the other side of faith’s legacy. 

And, yes, even with a spirit made ready, prepared for the journey, set apart for this Holy work there will be times when you feel like your own light is not bright enough, not bold enough, simply not enough to perform the tasks before you. In those moments, I urge you to look to your left, look to your right, look at your feet beneath you, and look up and all around you. This sacred call is not one of isolation, and is not to be placed upon your shoulders alone. Today, Raygan, my Brother, you are called as a teacher, a co-laborer, a sojourner, a fellow-traveler, a companion on the Way, a covenant partner… and with you on the journey, always, are the saints who have gone before you, those who surround you even now, on this day, in this very room, and those who await your arrival in Evansville, Indiana to walk alongside you as fellow travelers in the next chapter of your life. 

Never let fear or intimidation crowd your spirit, never relent in your unfailing love and generosity for others, but instead embrace the kindness and compassion that is within you, and go forth as Christ with the power and authority to bind-up the brokenhearted, to set free the captives, to prepare the way of the Lord. 

This is the day that God has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it!  Amen. 

Crucifixion...a new hope for the Resurrected

Feeling so blessed- I am married to the love of my life, and am Mommy to the sweetest boy in the whole world!

As a Pastor holy week brings a plethora of emotions to the table, but what a privilege to take it all in.
I am all too aware of the pain and suffering, the death and loss that accompany the lives of so many on this Easter Sunday, and know that resurrection means as many different things to people as does crucifixion. I myself, am limited in my understanding of resurrection as my life has been void of the many crucifixions that I witness on a daily basis, the kind that break, destroy, burn, kill and maim, disfigure, retaliate and isolate, the kinds that leave for dead not only bodies in the streets, but babies and mamas in roofless homes, children and adolescent boys abandoned to man-sized violence, black and brown youth with oversized dreams in an undersized white world, families dissected by disease, infidelity, mental illness, trauma, the everyday working public hostage to yesterday's bad policies and tomorrow's corrupt legislature. Brokenness, abandonment, murder, brutality, torture, suffering, lying, cheating, stealing, death...

Crucifixion.

And then there's Resurrection.
The kind that reunites drafted soldiers with grown baby girls, parent to child after war-torn annihilation, refugee families separated by decades of violence. Resurrection- like when the ice cream truck's jingle of sweet summer's stickiness wheels into the cul-de-sac and barefoot children run screaming for ice cold relief, like the time you leave the doctor's office and forever hanging on your tongue will be her last word: "remission", like the time you held your grandmother's hand while she took one last gaze across the decades of lines on your face and peacefully breathed her last . Resurrection- not only from the bodily-induced breathless coma that stills the heart's beat, but the kind of feather-like soaring above the clouds spurn by those words "I forgive you", the kind that shifts the family-feuded paralysis of loveless grudges to full-blown family reunion-type kinship.

Resurrection is not only made possible through crucifixion it is received, perceived, absorbed, accepted and/or rejected because of what is and has been crucified...within and without us.  The closest ally to death's sting, to darkness that stops all things living, is the light that has been suffocated within its shadow. Only Resurrection reminds us of light's true value and, in betrayal of her dark friend of the night, it is resurrection that shines her blinding light into the darkness and with courage raises up, from the dust of our existence, that which had once been surrendered- life.
I pray that in my Eastertide tendency of seeking comfort and release, & rest and renewal, that I will lean more intensely into the trenches of crucifixion that exist behind each phone call, each unwanted visit and ignored face of an anonymous passerby, each painful memory that longs to remain "unacknowledged", each crevice and crater of heartbreak that threatens to claim a future joy. I pray that in my living I will not disavow the sacredness of the dying, the pathway of all birth from one life to the next.

Crucifixion...a new hope for the Resurrected.

Faith as "Fiducia"

“If I am capable of grasping God objectively, I do not believe, but precisely because I cannot do this I must believe. If I wish to preserve myself in faith I must constantly be intent upon holding fast the objective uncertainty so as to remain out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving my faith.” ― Søren Kierkegaard

     One of my Lenten practices has been to, again, give myself to my second love-- reading. This past week I read an article in the Huffington Post with the title, "Busy is a Sickness". In Summary, the author uses statistics from the American Psychological Association to remind her readers that busyness is killing them, literally. And contrary to the illusion that our society is becoming more and more sophisticated, thus, evolutionarily speaking, more adept at multi-tasking with the ability to more efficiently produce at a higher level in less time, this sickness of "busyness" is a self-induced epidemic that has the opposite effect, really, and threatens to erode that which is left of the "self".
      Author Scott Dannemiller, a Presbyterian missionary shares the following example from the journal, Science. 

"In America, we are defined by what we do. Our careers. What we produce. It's the first question asked at parties, and often the first tidbit of information we share with strangers. The implication is that if I am not busy doing something, I am somehow less than. Not worthy. Or at least worth less than those who are producing something.

Now, before you start to think this is just one guy's opinion, consider a recent study published in the journal Science. In one experiment, participants were left alone in a room for up to 15 minutes. When asked whether they liked the alone time, over half reported disliking it.

In subsequent studies, participants were given an electric shock, and then asked if they would pay money to avoid being shocked again. Not surprisingly, most said they would trade money to avoid pain. However, when these same people were left alone in a room for 15 minutes, nearly half chose to self-administer an electric shock rather than sit alone with their thoughts.

You read that right. Voluntarily. Shocking. (Which is so not punny.)

Think about what this means. Just being is so painful that we are willing to hurt ourselves to avoid it."

     The quote at the beginning of this post illustrates, for me, the tipping point from which we are either falling- prey to our own insecurities and hollow identities, or towards a more graceful acceptance of the self and for all that she has to offer. This kind of grace-filled acceptance I find to be deeply rooted in this fiducia type of trust, a deep faith in the self, in others, in possibility and in hope and as directly dependent upon the kind of trust in God that Kierkegaard said would surely keep us "out upon the deep, over seventy thousand fathoms of water, still preserving in faith". This is not the kind of belief or trust that would have us adopt every creed and doctrine presented in the Christian tradition, but a faithful belief that illuminates the relationship in God uniquely defined by our reliance upon God and as Marcus Borg said, "trusting in God as our support, foundation and ground, and as our safe place." 

I have to believe that those who find that they are afraid of themselves, afraid of being in their own company, must not have access to this kind of "safe place", must not yet understand fully the completeness of grace that surrounds them. The kind of grace that promises that one's spirit is never alone even when emptiness surrounds them, but rather given over to the fullness of God's presence found in the shelter of that safe "trusted" place. 

The only God that I would consider trusting in, the only God that I would seek to find shelter among, the only God in whom I would dare find a safe place- is the God whom I believe to be at work within each of us, inviting us to relationship, to be still, to sit awhile, to listen, to open ourselves to this most vulnerable trust that can "erode" the decay within us- the decay which feasts upon the lies of our busyness, upon the illusion of our invincibility, and upon our faithless practices perpetuated by a culture which is still seeking a floating device. 

Rather than find our selves flailing about upon the surface of the deep, fighting a sinking battle, may we give ourselves to grace this day, and find ourselves within the trust-filled companionship of the one who offers us a safe place in which to find shelter, love and support. 

Lenten Blessings.

"That We May All Be One", Lent 2B Sermon

Rev. Jenny Shultz

March 1, 2015 Lent 2B

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-17

Mark 8: 31-38

“That We May All Be One”

On February 10, 2015 this world was robbed of the blessings of three beautiful lives and the love and community that they represented for so many family, friends and those of us who were impacted by their  amazing spirits of hope and generosity. 

Yusor Abu-Salha, 21, her husband, Deah Barakat, 23, and her sister, Razan Abu-Salha, 19 were brutally taken from their loved ones, murdered in cold blood, in an act of extreme violence and defilement… a man who acted against himself, against all of humanity and against God chose not only to play God, himself, by ending three innocent human lives, but in so doing broke the most sacred and ancient of covenants between the Creator and the created. A covenant which began in the garden with the breath of life that would sustain our very flesh and bones, a covenant that was later “cut” with Abraham, with the blood of animals, with the promise that his faithfulness would lead to numerous descendants and that God would always BE that—Israel’s God, then later with Noah the covenant of the colors in the sky that God would never extinguish the earth with water again, and then God extended the Abrahamic covenant to Israel once again, through Moses, in the Mosaic covenant promising that in their obedience, God would lead them into the promised land and that God would always be with them and keep them wherever they went. Finally, we experience this covenant, you and I, each and every day through the spirit of Jesus whose very essence was the covenant itself, come to replace that which was formerly “inscribed” by that which is incarnate, the holy presence of God that dwells within us. 

In this season of Lent when we are encouraged to examine our own lives, and as a community to look to the promise of God held in the light for us as we walk this journey from Lent into Eastertide, from temptation to freedom, I cannot escape the thought that the three lives of those beautiful young people, taken from us much too early, are to be reminders to us of the covenantal relationship of which we are all part, a relationship that must be nurtured and actively acknowledged if we are to move forward in society as “one"-void of the violence that extinguishes our hope and corrupts the innocent, void of the oppressive forces that seek to take life rather than to sustain it, void of the very hatred, greed, lust and insatiable desire for power and wealth that has long exploited our differences rather than uniting us under a common covenant; one of love of God and neighbor. 

”Growing up in America has been such a blessing," said Yusor Abu-Salha in a conversation with a former teacher that was recorded by the StoryCorps project last year. She said, “Although in some ways I do stand out, such as the hijab I wear on my head, the head covering, there are still so many ways that I feel so embedded in the fabric that is, you know, our culture. And that's the beautiful thing here, is that it doesn't matter where you come from. There's so many different people from so many different places, of different backgrounds and religions — but here we're all one, one culture. And it's beautiful to see people of different areas interacting, and being family. Being, you know, one community.”

Yusor was in touch with something that ran deep in her veins. She said she felt, “embedded” in the fabric of this culture and community. Perhaps what her spirit was really connected to was the covenant that bound us, Jews, Christians and Muslims, together long ago when God made a great promise to Abraham and then blessed him with many children. Included in Abraham’s offspring were Ishmael, his firstborn son, born of Haggar, Sara’s maidservant, and Ancestor to the prophet Muhammad, and then Isaac his second born son, born of Sarah, his wife, and father to Jacob, and ancestor to King David and then to Jesus himself.  

So Abraham was not only the father of Judaism, but it was his line that eventually gave birth to two other great religions of our time, both Islam and then Christianity…from the same covenant we share the same promises of God…and as Yusor stated, “We are all one”…children of the same God born of the same promise. 

If you’re a twitter user you can follow the #muslims4lent thread to see what thousands of Muslim young adults are tweeting about standing in solidarity with Christians during the season of Lent, this year, by abstaining from things for 40 days.  

College-aged girl, Saadia stands holding a sign that reads, “I’m Saadia A Muslim American in solidarity, next 40 days NO McDonalds," and another writes, “I’m Reem, a Muslim Syrian American In solidarity, Next 40 days… No COOKIeS! #muslims4lent.” 

Faisal a Muslim lebanese students says, “No Bread” next 40 days, in solidarity. #Muslims4lent. 

Muslim American entrepreneur Bassel Riche who started the campaign says, “The goal is to thank the many Christians that have always shown love and respect towards Islam by showing them we in turn have the utmost respect for their beliefs”…and he hopes the “campaign will show the true face of Islam and take the spotlight away from extremists.”  

For decades, the three monotheistic religions have been conversing in interfaith dialogue, working across the boundaries, in hopes that their efforts would help to create a shared understanding towards the call to justice for the poor, the disenfranchised, the widow and the orphan, a common sense of the sacred, of mutual respect and agency towards the common good. Rather than remaining in isolation from one another, outside of communion, they have and continue to work hard to find a common narrative that will thread our spirits together. 

From the gospel of Mark, we hear Jesus claiming something similar in his call to discipleship. He said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

This same universal call to a common identity rooted in shared belief of God, and love of neighbor proclaimed by Jesus, and made manifest in the lives of young people such as Yusor, should inspire us this Lenten season, to look at ourselves, examining the very core of our beings, our allegiances, asking ourselves the question… What does it mean to deny myself, to lose my life for the sake of the gospel, that I might save it?

Associate Professor of Preaching at Luther Seminary, Karoline Lewis, like me, was baffled at the first reading of the Genesis and Mark lectionary pairings for today, but decided to sit with it awhile before abandoning her efforts to make sense of what the biblical narrative was trying to tell her. 

She said, “But I stuck with it for a while, and here’s what I started seeing. Abraham and Sarah? To what extent they ‘deny themselves’ just as Jesus asks. But it’s not a denial of the self. It’s a denial of remaining by themselves. That is, they deny a life that is autonomous, secured, enclosed, safe, and just the two of them, for a life that propels them into relationship -- with God and with a future realized by abounding relationship.”

I wonder if this is exactly what Jesus means.

If we ask ourselves the question, “What does it mean to deny myself, to lose my life for Jesus’ sake, and for the sake of the gospel” with the backdrop of covenantal relationship propping us up we might just find that the way forward includes a denial of selfhood “when it rescinds relationship, a denial of autonomy when it refuses community, a denial of individualism when it rejects intimacy.” 

About the Muslims4Lent campaign Riche said, “Despite what our extremists have done to hijack our religion, we believe in peace, love, tolerance & harmony with other faiths. We don’t want to be seen as some distant, mysterious faith, we want to be accessible for people to open up to us…” 

Would it not have been easier for Abraham and Sarah to remain as Lewis says, by themselves, free to live without the pressure of an abounding legacy, without the impending thought of childbirth… I know that I am nearly 60 years their younger and i’m telling you having a baby is no easy task… chasing a toddler around is not for the weary, physically or emotionally. Theirs was a denial of the life they’d always known, the security of home, the assurance of what lie ahead, aging together until the they were no more, just the two of them side by side sitting in their rocking chairs, staring up at the night sky. Theirs was a denial of self which unveiled the expanse of community, opened up their world to family, to laughter and crying, to brokenness and burdens, to celebrations and thanksgivings, to relationships…bound-up in the promises of God. 

Like Yusor, who opened her life up to the other, made her life accessible, which in turn has shown the world the true identity of a faithful Muslim, and her goal…that we may all be one… we may need to ask ourselves some hard questions. 

What is it in your life threatens the birth of new relationships, of “whole” and satisfying relationships with those you encounter every day… your family, your parents, your siblings, your children? What serves as a barrier for you in reaching out to the other, in finding unity among differences, and harmony rather than fear or judgement? 

What is it that holds you back from living in community, of opening yourself up to a life of intimacy? 

As children of God, and adoptees into a shared covenant we will all find ourselves in the place of Abraham and Sara at different times in our lives. Will we decide to look gracefully and faithfully towards the Easter promise of life and abundance, holding the promise of oneness to our chests, or will our fears of the unknown, and worship of our individualism keep us from denying that which could set us free, make us whole?  

Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me”.  

May it be so…Amen. 

   

Ash Wednesday Sermon: Feb. 18, 2015

Rev. Jenny Shultz
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
1 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Ash Wednesday, Feb. 18, 2015
             

                                                 

                                               “Dreaming Smaller”

Founding Pastor of Grace Commons in Chicago, Nanette Sawyer wrote a wonderful article in this month’s Christian Century magazine, an Ash Wednesday reflection, asking herself the question, “Could I treasure washing the dishes?” Reflecting on the Corinthians text she says “This would mean treasuring the fact that I am alive - as Paul puts it, that I am “treated… as having nothing and yet possessing everything”  If I could do it, she said, I would remember and experience what a miracle life is.  Throughout the remainder of the article she contemplates how her life might look, feel and be experienced differently if only she could remember that she was “alive” each and every day.

And this is where I think she connects truly with what the gospel is inherently about: She says,

“If I could treasure washing the dishes, I would not be storing up treasures on earth “where moth and rust consume” and “thieves break in and steal.”  But I would be storing up treasures in heaven, treasures of the heart, treasures of love and honor and simply joy.

I would be fasting in secret, too.  Secretly I would be giving up my fear that I am not enough, that my life is not enough, that there is not enough time or money or reward, that there is not enough suffering to atone for all that has been done wrongly in the world.  I would be giving up resentment that life includes more work than play.  I would let that resentment go, and I would find the play in work.  I would do my work for the doing and not for the outcome. I would realize that I am alive for this— to serve, to try to make the world a better place, to love through the efforts I make. And sometimes I would serve the world by doing less, by having smaller dreams, by letting enough be good enough and trusting that our value comes from the fact that we exist.”

I know that I struggle on a daily basis with feeling like my good is good enough. And I know that I am not alone. More often than not my obsessive thinking these days is around being a good enough Mommy… with a two year-old running around I think this is only natural, but it doesn’t keep me from doing what we parents do best- compare ourselves to all of the other parents in the world. That’s right, in order for us mommies to feel better about our mommy skills & selves we typically seek the most important and influential resource of our time, the most reliable wisdom-filled parenting source out there… FACEBOOK.  That’s right…we read dozens of Facebook articles most-often posted by other mommies about what they are doing or not doing with their babies and toddlers. Did they breastfeed, did they co-sleep with their child, did they let their baby “cry it out?”, did they make all of their own mashed-up sticky baby food from organic fruits and veggies, did they record every single day in a 1000 photos or more of which they shared on 6 social media sites, did they join a mommy group and a playgroup so that their infants could all lie on their blankets and practice rolling over together, did they stay home from work after delivering the baby to devote all of out time and energy to being the best mommy possible???????? And the list goes on and on, doesn’t it?

This weekend while procrastinating writing this sermon I was browsing Facebook when I stumbled across something my sister-in-law posted called “Mommy Guilt Bingo”.  And the comparing began…

The first line of squares had me feeling pretty good, I was still an average mommy having served pizza for dinner, and with an incomplete baby book, but I could still at least take pride in the fact that I have not yet picked my child up from daycare in yoga pants with bedhead, or used the tv as a babysitter…and have not yet heard Sage repeating a 4 letter word. Phew!

Then, on to the second line…Failed to cherish every moment today, Birthday party wasn’t pinterest worthy (because we didn’t have a birthday party)…I work outside the home, i have on the rare occasion purchased non-organic produce when I just refused to drive across town to Whole Foods, and last, but not least I have bribed my toddler with a completely sugar-infested high fructose corn syrup laden lollipop- even just this week!  And then, as I made my way through the bingo board - there it was - the real reason that mommy hood seems like an epic failure at times… I had an epidural!

Am I a good enough Mommy? Am I parenting to the best of my ability? Feeding him the right foods, playing the right games, making the right friends, choosing the right schools, the right playgrounds, the right playgroups? Am I spending enough time with my sweet boy? Am I letting the nanny do the mommy’s job? Is my best Mommy-self good enough?

Rev. Sawyer said, “treasuring washing the dishes was a way, for her, of storing up treasures in heaven, treasures of the heart, treasures of love and honor and simply joy, and a means of fasting in secret.  Secretly, she said, she would be giving up her fear that she is not enough, that her life is not enough.

What if we could do our work for the doing and not for the outcome, work for progress because we believe that our efforts can change the world for the better rather than progress for progress’ sake, what if we would parent our children moment by moment without obsessing over the future, about the unknown, celebrating each diaper change because it reminds us that we are alive, sweeping the
floor with a whistle on our lips because we know that life is as brief as the moments between our
births until the time we will lie down for the last time, that with every nap time battle, each teenage infraction, and marital conflict- we can look in the mirror and be reminded that our best is good enough, that we are good enough simply because we exist. Sawyer reminds us that in so doing,  “we are alive to serve, to try to make the world a better place, to love through our efforts, however small they may be. What if we could treasure washing the dishes?

As we prepare ourselves for this Lenten season, dipped in the ashen reminder of our fragility, a time to reflect upon our own lives, and to explore what it means to be “reconciled to God”,  perhaps leaning deeply into these questions: am I enough simply because I exist, and could my life be such that the smallest of moments, those often overlooked, could be life-giving for me? …perhaps living with an orientation towards this smallness could be God’s kingdom come, God’s will be done in your life as it is in Heaven.

Sometimes, said Rev. Swayer,
“I would serve the world by doing less, by having smaller dreams, by letting enough be good enough and trusting that our value comes from the fact that we exist.”

When is the last time, if ever, you heard someone suggest that serving the world might mean “doing less”, having smaller dreams? I don’t quite think she meant what we might assume with the initial hearing of these words, that we should dream smaller, aspire to less, but with “small-er” dreams… not larger than life, but precisely life-sized, not overreaching, but reaching just far enough, not above the table where our eyes scan the room falling upon each and every color and size that this world would have us seek, but at table, and below the table where we can see what is directly in front of us, where our feet, sitting side by side, can reach the floor and where what’s sitting just below us is not out of our reach.

Brother Lawrence, a 17th century monastic brother, whose name was Nicolas Herman of Lorraine, worked for 15 years in the monastery kitchen and then the rest of his years as a sandal maker for the Carmelites of Paris. He is best known for his writings and correspondence collected in the historical text The Practice of the Presence of God, later edited by Harold Chadwick.  

For Brother Lawrence doing less, and dreaming smaller was the largest, most expansive thing in his life.
He said, “It matters not to me what I do or what I suffer, so long as I abide lovingly united to God’s will—that is my whole business.  I am in the hands of God, and He has his own good purposes regarding me.  I do not concern myself, therefore, about anything that people can do to me.  If I cannot serve God here, I will find some place else in which to serve him.
Since I first entered the religious life, I have looked on God as the goal and end of all the thoughts and affections of the soul.  Possessed thus entirely with the greatness and the majesty of God’s infinite being, i went straightway to the place that duty had marked out for me- the kitchen.
There, when I had carried out all that called for me, I gave to prayer whatever time remained, and also prayed before my work and after.
Before beginning any task I would say to God, with childlike trust:
O Lord, be with me in this my work, accept the labor of my hands, and dwell within my heart with all Thy fullness.”

I believe that as we remember the life of Jesus and listen to his teachings from Matthew’s gospel about personal piety and prayer, and his encouragement towards the secret life, that when we do in secret we will be rewarded in secret,

and then we turn the pages to hear a disciple of Jesus, a committed follower to the way,
calling the church to be reconciled to God, we see a window opening up for us, to see ourselves as “more than enough”, an invitation to live into this divine “smallness”…

When I was in seminary I lived in an apartment complex that had a lake at it’s center, and most days before school I would run around the lake 5 or 6 times as part of preparing myself for the day. And, without fail, each time I would round the Southwest corner of the lake I would come upon an older man named George. George was always standing in the same place near the southwest bank just in front of an old wooden bench with a bag full of bread crumbs where he would patiently wait for the ducks. Most days I just smiled or waved and continued on my run, but on occasion I would stop and sit on the bench near George and just enjoy being in the company of his humble routine, watching and observing his interactions with the wild around him. George was hard of hearing, and was a disabled war veteran, so for the last 17 years had lived in this complex and found it his sacred business to attend to the ducks of this very lake. Before I moved that final spring semester I went on one final run hoping to run into George, but what I found was even more compelling… as I rounded the corner this time, I saw a small boy in the same place with one hand full of bread crumbs, and the other extended upwards held in the gentle grip of an older man… it was George. He was sharing the joy and grace of his practice with his grandson.

In response to Paul’s letter to the Corinthians,

What if we, like George, understood reconciliation with God as a “life-sized” task, and rather than just sizing up the unjustness around us and calculating what piece of the greater puzzle we might play in the great healing of our world we could see the call as personal and as small as one life at a time… as small as the boxes we inhabit, the cars in which we ride, the tables at which we sit, the sacred spaces of our lives that are captured in moments as in a frame… in the mowing of the lawn, the putting our children to bed at night, tucking them in on all sides, the diligent reading that our students must complete on this very night, the emails and papers, and presentations and tasks that hold us captive in time, with deadlines and action points awaiting, with difficult conversations looming over us, disappointment trending in our midst.  What if being reconciled to God meant simply abiding with God, as Brother Lawrence expressed saying, “It matters not to me what I do or what I suffer, so long as I abide lovingly united to God’s will—that is my whole business.”

You may be thinking, “Yes, but I am not a monk or a priest, nor one to even aspire to personal piety”, but what can be true for each of us in this time and space as we occupy the flesh and bones that house our souls, that share a common beginning and ending—is that a great treasure, a gift that can only be recognized, unpacked and experienced in “reconciliation” awaits us even now. The gift of the present, of being alive to ourselves and alive to what and who are in our midst, the gift of working as with a whistle on our lips, of feeding the ducks faithfully for 17 years, of loving today as if our hearts would be gone tomorrow, the gift of looking in the mirror and discovering that “enough” is not found in What we complete, but in who we are made complete.

Covering ourselves in Ash this evening is a way to mark this joinery in faith, to receive the call to journey with Jesus these next 40 days… to take a deep breath and rather than looking up, scanning the horizon searching for what’s next,  what else, what am I missing?? we are invited to meet one another at eye level, to see as Jesus did, those at table and beneath the table cherishing the very seconds and minutes that form our communal life… And we are invited to contemplate the question, “What if I treasured washing the dishes?”

I pray that as we leave this place tonight we will dare to dream in life-sized pictures, in real time, and that these next several weeks we will take the time to look into the mirror of our lives, and looking with our hearts, believe that what and who we see is enough, and though we may be someone who is “treated… as having nothing we may be found to possess everything”.


Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon Audio Recording, Escaping the Dissonance

This sermon was originally preached on Sunday, August 24, 2014.

Escaping the Dissonance, by Jenny Shultz
Proper 16: Year A
Matthew 16:13-20

http://unitedchurch.org/sermon/reverend-jenny-shultz/

World Prayers for Peace, February 1, 2015

Prayers of the People: February 1, 2015

Surrounded by the presence of the Holy One of God, let us pray together.

Holy One, we gather in worship this morning seeking your presence, your grace and your wisdom. Humbly we gather to hear your words of hope and encouragement so that we may faithfully live out your message of justice and peace.

Confident that you have come to us, we offer our prayers for people and places close to our hearts and for the people and places that are unknown to us.

• We offer prayers of healing for the 280 child soldiers who were freed in South Sudan. We pray that all children will be free to be children, to play, to laugh and sleep peacefully at night. We pray for all who work endlessly for the rights of children the world over.
• We pray for the 43 students who went missing in September in the southern state of Guerrero, Mexico.  We pray for their families and friends as they hear reports that the students may be dead.
• We pray for all who are displaced. We pray for those who live in refugee camps and for all who live in captivity. We remember before you Kenji Goto of Japan.
• We pray for the EU foreign ministers as they meet in Brussels. May they work together to find  ways to bring peace and justice and stability to the EU.
• We pray for your creation. As we hear reports of E. Coli in the water in Winnipeg, Canada; an earthquake in East Midlands, England; snow storms in North England and the North Eastern United States; the drought in São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro, and Mina’s Gerais, Brazil. We pray for all who are affected by these events.

And now in the silence of our hearts we offer you the prayers that we carry with us this day.
(http://www.worldinprayer.org)