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"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a Hope-er, a Pray-er, a Magic Bean buyer; if you're a pretender, come sit by my fire. For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" -- Shel Silverstein

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Moroccan Apricot Chicken Stew

I love cooking for my family and friends.

No, really. It's not a "hobby". It's what I do. It's part of who I am. I seriously love it.

I love being in the kitchen and thinking about each one of the people coming over for the evening and the joy they have brought into my life.

I love to imagine their reaction to sitting down and sharing a meal together. I sometimes make adjustments to the recipe accordingly.

I call up the person who gave me the recipe - most often, my grandmother - and offer thanks and praise for the gift of her life and the gifts she has given me. 

I pour the love I have for each of my dinner guests into the food, laughing at some memories, weeping at others, talking with them - the unfinished conversations, the ones I know we still need to have - receiving the blessing of gratitude for all the memories we share and pouring that blessing back into the food.

In my mind, the food is an adjunct to - a way to support and build up - the relationships. It's the relationships that are primary. The food is a reflection of the quality of the relationships, a way to sustain the relationship, a vehicle to promote the relationship.

If, after the meal and dessert, people are sitting about, sipping coffee and sharing stories with each other on an even deeper level, well, I know that the meal has been successful.

I think I love that moment in the evening best.  There's a stillness in the air. A sense of contentment.  A deeper level to the questions and responses.  I can hear it all the way from the kitchen as I'm getting the dishes ready to go into the dishwasher.

Which is why I love recipes that can be mostly done before hand and allow me to be present to my family an friends, with the exception of a dash into the kitchen now and again to check on things.

In that way, for me, cooking and meal planning are ritual and the meal is liturgy. 

With a large dinner gathering (for me, anything over 6), the slow cooker or crock pot is a blessing. I can sometimes even get things started the night before, put the "crock" in the refrigerator over night and then start everything up on low first thing in the morning.

Here's one of my favorites for a gathering of family and friends. The seasonings blend nicely giving a slightly exotic flavor to a standard "chicken" dish.

Here's what you'll need:

12 chicken thighs (about 4 ½ pounds) or breast or tenders or mixture of thigh and breast.
            Your preference, bone-in, skin-on or skinless and boneless
Salt and ground black pepper
2 teaspoons vegetable (or coconut) oil
2 medium onions, chopped fine
6-12 medium garlic gloves, minced or pressed through a garlic press, to taste
1-2 cinnamon sticks
½ teaspoon ground cardamom
1 ½ teaspoons hot paprika (or 1 ¼ regular paprika and ¼ cayenne pepper)
8 ounces dried apricot (about 1 cup) cut in half
3 cups chicken broth
1 (15.5 ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed.
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

¼ cup minced fresh cilantro leaves 2 tablespoons lemon juice 1 lemon, cut in wedges.

   Dry chicken thoroughly with paper towels, then season generously with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a 12 inch skillet over medium high heat until just smoking. Carefully lay 6 of the chicken thighs/breasts into the skillet, "skin side" down, cook until golden, about 6 minutes. Flip the chicken over and continue to cook until the second side is golden, about 3 minutes.  Transfer the chicken to a slow cooker. Using paper towels, remove and discard the browned chicken skin (if you have used skin on). Pour off all but 2 teaspoons of the fat left in the skillet and return to the medium high heat until just smoking. Brown the remaining chicken, transfer it to the slow cooker, and discard the skin.
   Pour off all but 2 teaspoons of the fat left in the skillet and return to medium heat until shimmering. Add the onions, garlic and the salt; cook, scraping the browned bits off the bottom of the skillet, until the onions are fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the apricots and 2 ½ cups of the chicken broth, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom. Add the cardamom, cinnamon sticks, and paprika. Turned the heat to high and bring to a boil. Transfer the mixture to the slow cooker.
   Cover and cook on low until the chicken is almost tender, about 3-4 hours. Quickly stir in the chickpeas, replace the cover, and cook until the chicken is tender but not falling apart, about 1 hour longer.

   Transfer the chicken to a carving board and tent with foil (or a large bowl with cover) to keep warm. Discard the cinnamon stick. Set the slow cooker to high. Whisk the flour with ½ cup of chicken broth until smooth and then stir it into the slow cooker. Continue to cook on high until the sauce is thickened.

NOTE: Depending on your slow cooker, you may want to use a separate sauce pan for this instead of in your slow cooker. Once the sauce is thickened, you can return everything to the slow cooker, layering meat and sauce.

   OPTIONAL: stir in the cilantro and lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Return the chicken to the slow cooker and allow to heat through before serving. 

   OPTIONAL: serve with lemon wedges.
    SUGGESTION: Serve with (or over) Arborio rice or couscous and a light salad like romaine lettuce, pears, avocado and pistachio or a vegetable of your choice.  Serves 6. Add more chicken and adjust seasonings for more servings. (About ½ - ¾ pound meat per serving, depending on who's coming.)

The Best Big Chocolate Cake. Ever.


The first thing you’ve got to know about this cake is that it is a labor of love. That’s not to say it’s difficult to make. It’s just that there are about four major steps to it, some information to keep in mind, and a certain level of experience – but not necessarily skill – in the kitchen. 

You’ve got to be able to lead with your heart in this one and pour as much love as you’ve got into the recipe. Which is what makes this the best, big, chocolate cake for a birthday or any festive occasion. Ever. But, you know, if you lead with your heart in the kitchen, everything comes out better.

The second thing you’ve got to know is that this cake stores best in a refrigerator. And, I’m not kidding when I mean it’s a BIG cake. Four layers. It’s really big enough to feed a small fishing village in Cambodia so unless you are planning to feed the masses – like a big birthday or anniversary or a holiday celebration) make sure you have room in your fridge to store this. 

I don’t know how it freezes. If you try it, let me know.

The third thing to know about this cake is that, like all food, it does best with the freshest ingredients. Don't skimp on quality. It’s got a lot of dairy in it: cream, butter, and buttermilk (which you can make, not to worry. I’ll give you the recipe.). If your flour has been sitting around for months in the bag you bought it in, throw it out and get a new bag. Same thing for the cocoa and baking soda. 

You’ll thank me for it later.

Finally, this recipe was adapted from Ree Drummond, the “Pioneer Woman” who cooks for her husband, the rancher, and growing kids. 

If you have a sedentary job and don’t exercise, or if your cholesterol level or blood pressure are boardline high, or if on your last Annual Physical Exam the doctor gave you some information about diet, exercise, heart condition, stroke, or diabetes, or, if you don’t really, really like chocolate, you may not want to make or eat this. 

Yes, it's all that. Just sayin'. But, you will do what you will do.

Okay, ready? Here we go.

For the cake, you’ll need:

4 sticks of butter, plus more for greasing the pans (See what I mean?)
8 heaping tablespoons cocoa, plus more for dusting
4 cups all-purpose flour
4 cups sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups boiling water
1 cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
4 whole eggs, beaten

NOTE: I don’t grease my pans with butter. I have found that sometimes it can burn and cause the edges of the cake to burn. I use Pam Spray for baking. I love it. But, you’ll do what you do.

For the frosting, you’ll need:

3 cups heavy cream (See what I mean?)
24 ounces semisweet chocolate, broken into pieces (Or, chocolate morsels)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract.


I would bake this cake in the morning if I were planning to serve it that evening or the next evening. The cake frosts best if you cool each layer and then wrap them in clear plastic or wax paper and put them in the fridge. The frosting also has to cool and thicken in the fridge for a couple of hours. It really makes all the difference in frosting a four-layer cake.

You’re welcome. 

PREP: Set the oven at 350 degrees. Get the pans ready – grease or spray them. I only have 2 9-inch pans and this recipe calls for 4 layers. But, since it only takes 20-25 minutes to bake, I put one batch in, let them cool, wash out the pans and then bake the other two layers. You’ll do what you’ll do with what you’ve got.

If you don’t have Buttermilk, you can make your own. Do that now.

Mix together:

1 scant cup milk (whole, 2%, or heavy cream)
1 tablespoon lemon juice or vinegar

Let it sit for 5-10 minutes. When it is ready, the milk will be slightly thickened and you may see small, curdled bits. Don’t worry about the small, curdled bits. You won’t notice them in your finished recipe. This substitute will not become quite as thick as regular buttermilk which is okay.

Other Buttermilk Substitutes
Yogurt: Mix 3/4 cup plain yogurt with 1/4 cup water to thin. Use as you would buttermilk.
Sour cream: Mix 3/4 cup sour cream with 1/4 cup plain water to thin. Use as you would buttermilk.
Kefir: Thin kefir as needed with milk or plain water until it reaches the consistency of buttermilk. Use as you would buttermilk.
Cream of tartar: Mix 1 cup of milk with 1 3/4 teaspoons cream of tartar. Let stand 5 to 10 minutes until slightly thickened and curdled.

So, to continue: 

Have handy a Very Large mixing bowl, a couple of medium mixing bowls, a medium sauce pan, a couple of spatulas, a few measuring cups and spoons, a hand whisk and electric beaters. 

Here’s the “secret ingredient”: After you tie the back of your apron, call up the face of the person or faces of the people for whom you are baking this cake.   

Think of one or two gifts they have given you over the years – the laughter, the tears, the joy, the challenges, the things you’ve learned from them – and send out a thank you to the cosmos for them. That kind of gratitude and love has a way of finding its way back to you and infusing itself into the cake. 

You’ll see. It’s pretty amazing. And, the taste of love and gratitude is incredible.

So, in a Very Large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar and salt. Set aside.

In a saucepan, melt the butter. Add the cocoa. Stir together. Add the boiling water, allow the mixture to boil for 30 seconds - watch it like a hawk - and then turn off the heat.

Pour over the flour mixture and stir lightly to mix well and then let cool.

In a small bowl, beat the four eggs. In a medium mixing bowl, combine the buttermilk, baking soda, vanilla. Add the beaten eggs.

Stir in the buttermilk mixture into the butter/chocolate / flour mixture. It will be on the thin side.

Divide the batter among the prepared cake pans and bake for 20-25 minutes.

Cool completely before icing. Refrigerate the layers after cooling for best results.


Pour the broken pieces (or morsels) of chocolate into a mixing bowl.

Heat the cream until very hot. Watch this carefully. Little bubbles will form along the outside rim of the pan and wisps of steam will rise from the center. If you look away at this point, just like that, the whole thing will boil over into a mess. When you see the bubbles and wisps, remove from heat and use immediately.

Pour the cream over the chocolate and stir until all the chocolate is melted. It takes a good 7-10 minutes of stirring. Even then, you might end up with a very few small clumps. This is okay and makes for an interesting frosting. 

Put the whole bowl into the fridge and let cool until thick like pudding.

Add the vanilla extract and beat with an electric mixer until light and airy.

Frost the cake in between each layer, then on the top and finally around the sides. Don’t be afraid to be generous. This is the BEST chocolate frosting. You’ll make it for other cakes, and/or you’ll cut this entire recipe in half and make it again and again for other, smaller occasions. 

You can get fancy and put some pieces of shaved white and/or  dark chocolate on the top. Or, sprinkle with "jimmies". Or, decorate with a holiday or birthday or anniversary theme. You will do what you will do. But, the cake really is festive enough all on its own to convey whatever message you're trying to give.

Prepare yourself for gasps of wonder and delight as you bring out the cake to be served. It makes a very dramatic presentation. And then, oooh’s and aaah’s over the moistness of the cake and the rich chocolate goodness of the frosting will fill the air and people will corner you in the kitchen ask you for the recipe.

You are entirely welcome.

Sunday, August 21, 2016

Oh, how I love Jesus!

A sermon preached at St. George's Chapel, Harbeson
      (the Rev'd Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton                  

Well, anyone who knows me will tell you that I am a self-avowed, unrepentant, deeply committed, practicing “Jesus freak”. 

I do loves me some Jesus. 

You might have guessed that from all the hymns we’re singing today. Just humor me and sing that song we sang when came into church, will you?  Join in when you can, but especially on the chorus

There is a name I love to hear / I love to sing its worth
It sounds like music in mine ear / The sweetest name on earth.

Oh, how I love Jesus. Oh, how I love Jesus.
Oh, how I love Jesus, because he first loved me.

You know, I love Jesus especially in moments like this morning’s gospel lesson from Luke, when he’s getting down with the people and breaking rules, getting uppity with the religious leaders of his day.

So, let me put this particular piece of scripture in context for you. The last location-fix we got on Jesus was back at the end of Chapter 10 when he was visiting with Mary and Martha. We know that they lived in Bethany. 

So, it may be safe to assume that he was in that general location – just outside of Jerusalem, in Judea, in the Kingdom of Herod, not far from where he was born in Bethlehem but a little more than 70 miles south of his home in Nazareth in the province of Galilee in ancient Palestine.

Nazareth, by the way, is not far from the Syrian border where we are watching the horrors of war unfold – especially on the shocked, bloodied faces of little children like five year old Omran Daqneesh.

Jesus has been busy, preaching and teaching and healing. Scripture says he’s taught the disciples how to pray the prayer we know as “The Lord’s Prayer” – the “Our Father”. 

Jesus has also taught them using many parables, like the Good Samaritan, and he cast out demons in a man that was mute.

Probably because he was not far from Jerusalem, there seemed to be an abundance of Pharisees who always seemed to be lurking about, watching every step he took, listening to every little thing he taught, checking out every person he healed.  Jesus says to his disciples, 

“Beware of the yeast of the Pharisees, that is, their hypocrisy.” (Luke 12:1b).

“The yeast of the Pharisees is their hypocrisy.” 

That Jesus! He can really turn a phrase, can’t he? 

I’m thinking somebody wrote that sucker down ten minutes after it left his lips and embroidered it on a purificator or corporal in the sacristy somewhere.   

“The yeast of the Pharisees is their hypocrisy.” The man doesn’t mince words, right?  And, it’s still true today, isn’t it? We can all think of examples of religious leaders who, unfortunately, allow hypocrisy to be the yeast and the leaven in their lives.

In this morning’s gospel lesson, we get to see exactly what Jesus means. In the 13th Chapter of Luke’s gospel, beginning at verse 10, we find Jesus where we’d expect him to be on the Sabbath – he’s teaching in “one of the synagogues”. Suddenly and without any fanfare, a woman appeared before Jesus. Perhaps it’s just what she always did on the Sabbath. She had a “spirit” says scripture, which had crippled her for eighteen years. “She was bent over and quite unable to stand up straight.”

Now, mind you, the woman did not bring attention to herself. She probably didn’t have to. I’m sure she was quite a sight. Scripture does not say that she cried out, though she must have been in some pain if not at least some discomfort. Indeed, she didn’t ask for anything.

It was Jesus, in fact, who called her to come over and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” And, scripture tells us, “When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God.”

Now, remember what Jesus said about the Pharisees? Remember that thing about “The yeast of the Pharisees is their hypocrisy”? Right. Cue the Pharisee who, scripture says, was ‘indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath.”

Weeeellllllll….. I mean! The nerve, right?  Healing. In the synagogue. On the Sabbath. 

Remember that hypocrisy thing? So, the Pharisee doesn’t get indignant at Jesus who did the healing. Well, not publicly. No, he’s quite indignant at the woman and says to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath.”

But Jesus called him out for what he was. “You hypocrites,” he said, reminding them that even the ox and the donkey are allowed to be unbound on the Sabbath. Ought not the woman, a daughter of Abraham and Sarah, be set free from bondage – even on the Sabbath – he asked.

Don’t you just love Jesus? Isn’t he just the best? It’s not just that he healed the woman. It’s not even that he healed the woman on the Sabbath. It’s that Jesus lives in our hearts through the breaking open of the stories in scripture and continues to heal us in our lives today.

That’s what happens when you let love be the leaven in your life.

We are all, in our own ways, very much like that bent over woman. So many of us have been carrying the weight of ‘oughts’ and shoulds’ for years and years – 18 at least. 

Some of us are emotionally crippled by a sense of inadequacy. Others of us are spiritually incapacitated by doubt. Still others of us have grown bitter with regrets and the dis-ease of the WCS: 

The “Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda’s”. Oh, we would have. . . . If we only could have. . . .  Still, we probably should have .. . .

If only I had been . . . (fill in the blank). . . . Better. Smarter. More handsome. Prettier. Thinner. Richer. Luckier. In the right place at the right time. 

The Woulda-Coulda-Shoulda’s of regret are lethal, shrinking the heart and crippling the soul, bending the human spirit and keeping us from standing in “the full stature of Christ” to which we were baptized.

The truth is that many of us in this church, like so many people in so many churches in so many places this very morning, may look physically fit and even physically strong, but underneath the exterior ‘optics’ are people who are emotionally and spiritually bent over.

We are not calling out to Jesus for attention. We’ve not come here this morning looking for healing.

Some of us may not even be sure why we came here this morning. Perhaps, like the woman in this morning’s scripture story, it’s just what we always do on the Sabbath.

Some of us may be absolutely soul-sick about what’s happening in the world. In Lebanon and Syria, Jerusalem and Palestine. And, right here in this country, in our own cities and towns where gun violence is epidemic and natural disasters of fire and flood and even pestilence (in the Zika virus) are in epic, biblical proportion.

And then, there’s the political campaign.

The weight of all of that is enough to bend us all over in pain. The miracle is that any of us got out of bed this morning, put our feet on the floor, got washed and dressed and actually came to church.

The good news is that Jesus has come to us this morning, in the breaking open of the scripture and the breaking of the bread to heal us and say to us: “You are set free from your ailment.”

Jesus has come here this morning to say to me, “You are set free from your ailment.” And yes, despite what you see before you, I do struggle with my own spiritual ailments that threaten to bend my spirit.

Jesus has come here this morning to say to YOU … and YOU… and YOU… “You are set free from your ailment.” Whatever it is – known or unknown, acknowledged or ignored – that keeps you from your full potential as a child of God, baptized of Jesus, and guided by the Spirit.

In the almost 30 years I’ve been ordained, I’ve been privileged to witness this sort of healing over and over again.  

When the spirit is set free, the infirmities of the body can no longer contain it. It’s a miracle I cannot explain. I just know this much to be true:

When the heart and mind and soul of a person are unbound, the infirmities of the body are healed.   This, I believe, is the mystery and miracle of the healing of Jesus.

Not “fixed”. Not “perfect”. Oh, no. What Jesus does is better than “fixed”. Even better than “perfect”.

This is what Jesus does: Heal. Jesus heals.

It’s a kind of healing that breaks all the rules of what we know about healing. I also know this much to be true: Sometimes, you’ve got to break a few rules in order to be healed.

As crazy and illogical as it sounds, sometimes, you’ve got to reach way down to find a star.

So, no matter what brought you to church this morning, no matter how healthy you think you are, no matter what your ailment is – whatever it is that is keeping you bent over – crippling your soul – incapacitating your heart – know this: there is healing. The wondrous love of Jesus can and will lift you and heal you – without your even asking for it or expecting it.

That’s the promise of scripture. That’s the hope of scripture. That’s the good news of Jesus.

It’s what happens when love is the leaven in your life. And, that love is Jesus.

Turn to your neighbor right now and say that. Say, “Love is the leaven in my life.”

Now, say, “Jesus is the center of the love in my life.”

I really do believe that if we love God and love our neighbor as ourselves we can change the world. 

No, I seriously believe that. Love God. Love your neighbor as yourself. Change the world. I believe that can and will happen. We've just got to live like we believe it.

Which is why I am a self-avowed, unrepentant, deeply committed, practicing “Jesus freak”. And, trust me, it takes a lot of practice to be a Jesus freak. I’m sure that’s why God called me to the priesthood. This way, Jesus could keep me busy and out of trouble. Well, mostly.

So, let’s let love be the leaven in our lives.

Let’s be like the bent over woman in this morning’s scripture and stand up straight in our bodies and in our hearts and in our souls and let’s praise Jesus.

Please sing with me about Jesus, the sweetest name on earth:

It tells of one whose loving heart / Can feel my deepest woe
Who in each sorrow bears a part / That none can bear below

Oh, how I love Jesus. Oh, how I love Jesus.
Oh, how I love Jesus, because he first loved me.

Let love be the leaven in your life. And, let that love be Jesus. 

Now, go out and change the world!


Sunday, August 07, 2016

My Grandmother's Rag Rug

Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. (Luke 12:32-40)
A Sermon preached for the congregation of St. Philip's, Laurel, DE
August 7, 2016

When I think of this particular passage from Luke’s Gospel, I think of my Portuguese grandmother. When I think of my grandmother, a memory immediately comes flooding back. She is standing in her kitchen. In front of her stove. There is a pot or a pan on every burner and a few pans of something, baking in the oven.

Above the oven and all around the kitchen are shelves. On every shelf are jars of preserves, filled with treasures from her garden. Pickled cucumbers and beets and string beans. She's even pickled eggs from her beloved chicken and put them up there on the shelf. Jars of tomatoes, tomato sauce and even tomato jam (I have her recipe which I’m happy to share with you.) stand at the ready. 

There are also jars of peaches, apples, and pears as well as peach, apple and pear jam, right along side the grape jelly and jam. In the pantry there is a special section for the grapes that have become wine – red and white – which she used for cooking and drinking, sometimes drinking while cooking which, she said, made everything taste better.

That was just her kitchen. In the basement (called the ‘cellar’ where I grew up), there were even more jars of preserves and pickles, barrels of homemade wine and beer, and huge crocks of cured meat and sausage, all nestled beneath mounds of animal fat.

My grandmother seemed to know when someone in the neighborhood was “down on their luck.” Or, when a family member was sick and couldn’t work. Or, the factory was on strike or someone had lost their job. She would call me to get out my bike and fill up my front and rear baskets with some bread and soup along with some of her preserves for delivery to that neighbor's home. 

“The children shouldn’t go to bed hungry,” she’d say. “And their parents need to stay strong.”

My grandmother knew about ‘storing up treasures’.

Of all my grandmother’s “treasures” not all of them involved food, however. In another part of the cellar there were large bins of what she called “rags”. They were actually the remnants of old clothing, thread bear in spots from having been passed down from her children – oldest to youngest – to her grandchildren (“AKA “The Cousins”) and/or neighborhood children whose parents knew to return them after they, too, had outgrown them.

First, she would snip off the buttons and carefully remove zippers, storing them in large jars, sorted by color and type. Then, she would cut the shirts and pants and skirts and dresses into long strips of material, putting them into large tomato crates which once held the tomatoes from her garden. You could always find those tomato crates next to her rocking chair in the living room.

Late in the afternoon before starting to prepare supper or in the early evening, after the chores were done for the day and everything put away in its place, she would reach in and pull out a few strips of cloth and begin to braid them together.  

In the eyes in my childhood mind, this was my first experience of magic. Out of those strips of thread-bear cloth came long braided ropes, now stronger together. 

These braided ropes were eventually stitched together into an amazing, beautiful braided rug.

“The Cousin’s Rags” had become a rug! 

It might be a beautiful multicolored braided rag rug which might be small enough to put by the side of your bed to keep your feet warm when you got out of bed in the morning. 

Or, it might be large enough to fill up a living room and be the place where babies learned to crawl or took their first steps, or on which their older cousins would draw pictures or play card games while their parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles laughed and talked and told stories!  

My grandmother knew about “storing up treasures”.

This gospel passage (from Luke 12:32-40) is often used as one-part admonishment to be ready for the End Time which will come without warning. It also serves as another part dire warning about the foolishness of some of our attachments to earthly things. We are warned to be ready – to stay awake and alert – for the time when the world as we know it will end and Jesus will return. 

And, it is used a reminder to be generous - especially with "the poor".

The hard truth is that some of us do not have our priorities in order. Some of us are pretty wasteful with the abundance of God’s creation, even as we complain about not having enough. Some of God’s children have too much. Others don’t have enough.

When it all comes to an end, if anyone is found wanting it will not be for want of enough of everything that we need.  It will be because we did not treasure and share what we have. 

We did not “hand-me-down” so that others would have a “leg up”. It will be that we did not appreciate the treasure of God’s bounty so that we might store it up to be widely shared.

Generosity is the purse that will not wear out. 

Sharing our earthly treasure is the unfailing treasure of heaven which I believe makes the angels sing for joy.

When it became clear that my grandmother was nearing the end of her life, she moved in with my parents who took care of her. Her home was eventually sold, along with the land that had been her garden and grape orchard and the arbor for her fruit trees. 

The preserves, of course, had long been gone by then. Some of her possessions – furniture, dishes and collection of teapots – were all scattered among her family members, but most of it went to a Thrift Shop.

I don’t know what happened to all of those braided rugs. I suspect they, too, went to the Thrift Shop, hopefully to be used by other families who needed them. 

I wonder, sometimes, if the people who had them had any idea about the treasures they had in their homes. I wonder if they could feel the human treasures that went into making them: the sweat and laughter, the love and sorrow, the developmental milestones and stories that were woven into the braids of fabric that were once someone’s shirt or skirt, pants or dress.

I suspect those rugs were thrown away long ago. Or, moths have properly consumed them. Nothing lasts forever. It isn’t meant to. Which is part of the reason we treasure them when we have them. Or, at least, perhaps why we should.

My grandmother has been with Jesus for a long time now. If memory serves – and it does less and less these days – she died 35 years ago in February. We named our youngest daughter after her. 

My grandmother rests safely in the arms of Jesus, in that place where we say we believe there is no more suffering, no pain or weeping or sorrow and where no thief comes and no moth destroys.

Yet, her memory lives on. The legacy of her love and generosity is rich and full.  The image of that for me is held within the memory of my grandmother’s rag rug. 

Nothing can destroy that.

Jesus taught, “Where your treasures are, there your heart will be also.”

My grandmother’s rag rug also taught me that, where your heart is, there are treasures that will live on long after you die.   

Especially when we treasure – and practice – the generosity of God. 


Sunday, July 24, 2016

A clear and present danger

In all the years I've been ordained - 30 in October, if you're curious - I've rarely, if ever, been publicly supportive of a Presidential candidate.  Any Presidential candidate.

No bumper stickers. No yard placards. No buttons. No nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

At least, when I was in parochial ministry. Things are a bit different when you're not the leader of a congregation. Even so, and while my politics are pretty obvious to anyone who is paying even slight attention, I've always tried to be fairly circumspect. 

Separation of church and state, you know. It's in our constitution. Or, at least, that's what I had always thought. Turns out, it's not. It was just a phrase Thomas Jefferson used. A lot.

Funny how that happens, eh? You say something enough times and it becomes "truth".

Well, I'm sure I don't know what I'd do if I were still rector or vicar in a congregation. I think I would be having more than a few conversations with my bishop and clergy peers, my spiritual director and therapist.

So, I'm writing this to clergy leaders, yes, but also to any and all of you who exercise leadership in Christian community - especially to those of you who have not exercised leadership but have been feeling 'stirrings" about needing to stand up and do something.

As we've heard over and over and over again from various journalists and political pundits, this is an election process like no other. For example: A year ago to the day that Donald Trump gave his speech accepting the nomination from the Republican party for President of the United States,  Donald Trump said of John McCain, 
"He's not a war hero. He's a war hero 
because he was captured. 
I like people that weren't captured."

That evening, July 21, 2015, the NY Post ran a cover depicting Trump on a raft with an encircling shark lurking behind. The headline? "Don Voyage!" Post owner Rupert Murdoch said that Trump was "embarrassing his friends" and "the whole country." 

And, yet, on Thursday, July 21, 2016 - exactly a year later - when Donald J. Trump strutted to the podium to announce - in a 75 minute speech - that he would accept the nomination to be the Republican candidate for President of the United States, he did so with the endorsement of Rupert Murdoch and the NY Post.  

How did that happen? 

We should not have been surprised. Donald Trump has been saying for most of his adult life that he wanted to become President of the United States. Anyone who saw his face during President Obama's impromptu "roasting" of The Donald at the 2011 White House Correspondents Dinner could see on this face the formulation of his plans for a candidacy run. 

Watch the clip here and see if you don't agree that Mr. Trump simply could not abide being mocked by a Black man - especially about his life's ambition. It's pretty clearly written all over the scowl on his face and the squint in his eye, the way he sat on his hands and rocked back and forth in his chair, that he set out to do something about it right then and there.

When Donald Trump announced his intention to run for President of the United States on June 16, 2015,  Mr. Trump said that Mexicans, "They’re bringing drugs.They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people!" And, he proposed building a wall. A YUGE wall.

A month later, the man who has called women "fat pigs" and "disgusting" dismissed Fox New's Megan Kelley as a "lightweight" journalist who, during the Republican Presidential debates,  had "blood coming out of her eyes, blood coming out of her... whatever." 

In December 2015, Mr. Trump called for "a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States." He also wanted to round up all Muslims for deportation. He didn't say then - and still hasn't said - how he intended to do that, but that's not what's important when you're trying to "shock and awe" and instill fear and incite violence.

He has a long history of racism, from having had charges brought against him and his father as early as 1973 by the Nixon Department of Justice (not exactly known as a bastion of liberalism) for civil rights violations in housing. 

In 1986 during the Central Park jogger case,  Mr. Trump denounced Mayor Ed Koch’s call for peace and bought full-page newspaper ads calling for the death penalty. The five teenagers spent years in prison before being exonerated, but not before Mr. Trump spent considerable time and energy and money whipping up the crowds into a racist frenzy. 

That was 1986. Sound vaguely familiar?

Mr. Trump has also retweeted messages from white supremacists or Nazi sympathizers, including two from an account called @WhiteGenocideTM with a photo of the American Nazi Party’s founder.
He, of course, has repeatedly and vehemently denied any racism, and he has deleted some offensive tweets. The Daily Stormer, a neo-Nazi racist website that has endorsed Trump, sees that as going “full-wink-wink-wink.”

The man who once supported Planned Parenthood and was staunchly pro-choice did say in an interview with Savannah Guthrie that he would depart from the Republican Party Platform and "allow" abortion in the case of incest, rape or the life of the mother."  

However, when asked by Chris Matthews in March of 2016, Mr. Trump said that women should be punished for having an abortion.  

He, of course, walked that back - because even the most strident pro-abortion activists cringed at a position they certainly believe but had been carefully deflecting for decades -  but there it was.

However, in April of 2016, Mr. Trump said that transgender activist, Caitlyn Jenner, could use the women's room at Trump Towers any time she needed to. I know. Go figure, right? 

He has been married three times - twice to women who were not born in the United States (read: immigrants) - and has reveled in his reputation as a "lady's man". Indeed, three women have brought charges of sexual assault against him. As if that weren't enough, he has made lascivious remarks about his daughter, Ivanka, who is the "public face" of his respect for women.  

During her speech at the Republican National Convention, Ivanka told us that her father was "color blind and gender neutral," even though the weight of evidence does not support that assertion.

And, for an apparent variety of reasons and despite his sexual immorality, his three marriages, his vulgarity and impertinence, reportedly 78% of (white) Evangelicals support him and endorse his candidacy. 

As if all of this weren't enough, it is important to remember that Mr. Trump's friend, mentor and lawyer was none other than Roy Cohn - Senator Joseph McCarthy's (of whom it was asked "At long last, sir, have you no decency at all?") right hand man - helped the Rosenberg's to the electric chair for spying and helped elect Richard Nixon.

It is nothing short of amazing to me - and, apparently, most of the rest of the Free World - that this man, this racist, misogynist bully, this political demagogue who won't apologize even when it's clear that he is wrong - is the Republican candidate for President of the United States.

Actually, when you read the Republican Party Platform, it isn't exactly so much of a surprise.  Among other things, "We the People" seeks to reverse the SCOTUS decisions on Roe v. Wade, Marriage Equality, and the Affordable Care Act, defends their unique interpretation of the Second Amendment gun rights, seeks to "ensure honest elections" (read: further erosion of the Voting Rights Act) and yes, even gives mention to and is supportive of "The Wall." (I am not making this up.)

So, what is the responsibility of Christian leaders in these very perilous times? 

I think it is important, now more than ever, for Christian leaders to promote conversation and dialogue in Christian community.  

I know. I know. That sounds so lame, right?

Not when you consider that fear and anxiety and anger do not promote community. Indeed, it is the very mixture of toxic human waste that drives us apart from each other, increasing suspicions of each other and promoting tribalism and nationalism - the foundational building blocks of Fascism. 

This is part of what we're seeing in Trump's strategy. We've seen it before. It's the tactic of the demagogue to make enemies of each other. It's divide and conquer. And, it works.

That's why conversations and dialogue in communities of faith are critically important. It's a wonderfully subversive way to move people from their reptilian brain response and into an ability to think critically, engage one's insight and participate in creative, imaginative problem solving.

These conversations might include but not be limited to 
+ Christian identity, religious principles and moral values.   
+ The identity, principles and values of a democracy
+ The imperatives of the Gospel
+ The responsibilities of baptism
+ The nature and character of Christian leadership 
+ The public practice of theology.
This could be prompted by a series of sermons followed by conversations on the topic. Or, it could be an evening presentation by a variety of community leaders followed by conversations and dialogue. 

Or, perhaps, it could be an ecumenical or interfaith event with people from a variety of religious backgrounds presenting their perspectives on these or similar issues.

More important, even, than these conversations is the creation of an environment were people feel secure enough to express their opinions and listen to those of others. 

That will take enormous trust in the religious leadership so if it hasn't already been established, it will be critically important for clergy to be mindful of this developmental task. 

One of the reasons Mr. Trump has gotten as far as he has is due to the fact that he excels at raising anger, anxiety and fear. I believe Christian leaders need to be mindful that many of the people sitting in our pews and coming to our altar rails are experiencing these emotions. 

Indeed, I think it is absolutely critical for Christian leaders to acknowledge their own anger, anxiety and fear. And, we need to name it - yes, sometimes out loud and publicly - observing and monitoring how these emotions affect our own behaviors. 

This is the time when our own established support systems and wellness programs - including spiritual direction and pastoral care - are absolutely critical to our ability to lead effectively.

More than anything, this is the time for leadership. Strong leadership. Leadership that doesn't deny the anxiety but neither does it feed it. Leadership that understands that courage is the ability to keep walking, even though fear wants you to stand still. Leadership that calls people together when fear and anxiety want to keep them apart. Leadership that stands up to bullies. Leadership that speaks truth to power. Leadership that risks propriety for notoriety. 

Leadership that, to paraphrase one of the saints of the Civil Rights movement, no longer accepts the things we can not change and changes the things we can not accept. 

Leadership that, in the words of one of my mentors in ministry, does three things: name the pain, touch where it hurts, offer hope. 

Eminent historian and film maker, Ken Burns, recently said in a CNN interview that we are living in an "incredibly perilous situation right now," adding, "Asking this man to assume the position of President of the United States is like asking a newly minted car driver to fly a 747."

The danger is clear and very present.  

Let's not give into it. 

Let's not eat of the bread of anxiety. 

Let's move forward. Together.

Sunday, July 03, 2016

Revolutionary Love

A sermon for Pentecost VII - July 2, 2016
St. Phillip's Episcopal Church, Laurel, DE
(the Rev'd Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton

It’s an interesting gospel for this holiday weekend.

Here we are, celebrating the birth of this nation with family cookouts and picnics and, of course, fireworks. And, there is Jesus, commissioning 70 brand-new disciples, urgently talking with them about mission and ministry what to do about rejection.

I find it irresistible not to imagine the urgency of the early mission of Jesus and compare that with the urgency of the founders of this country in the early days of the Revolutionary War.

I should note that, in American, we call it the Revolutionary War. In Britain, it’s still called “The War of Independence”.  That’s because the British did not see America as a nation; it was referred to as “the colonies.”  Some folks there still do, when they want to be pejorative . 

British school children, I’m told, still do not learn about the Boston Tea Party or Paul Revere’s ride. What is discussed in textbooks is the effect the war had on Britain.  It was just “independence” you see. Nothing more, nothing less. As if we were naughty adolescents, throwing a tantrum because we refused to contribute to England after the Seven Years War between England and France through outrageously high taxes.

“No taxation without representation,” as a succinct complaint of the problem made perfect sense to people living on this side of The Pond. To our founders it was the oppression of occupation by a foreign government – not unlike what the Hebrew people  in Jerusalem were experiencing under the occupation of their country by Romans.   

And, like the Romans, the British, at the time, simply did not understand the complaint. We were “their” colonies. They believed they could do with us as they pleased. (For now, I’ll refrain from modern examples of occupation, but I'm sure you can name a few without breaking a sweat.)

There’s a revealing story about a conversation between King George III and then Prime Minister William Pitt.  George asks, “What of the colonies, Mr. Pitt?” Pitt reminds him that, “America is now a nation, sir.” And George answers, “Is it? Well, we must try and get used to it. I have known stranger things. I once saw a sheep with five legs . . . . .”

As the Brits would say, “Right.” Or, “Well, there it is, then.”

It was a Revolutionary War because, among many issues, it was the first war where thirteen independent colonies joined together to overthrow rule by a foreign monarchy. 

That had never been done before. And, what resulted was, in fact, revolutionary. What emerged was an independent nation. The sentence – “One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all" from the Pledge of Allegiance – was not lightly or irreverently penned. Those independent colonies eventually became states, which became part of  “The United States of America”.

That’s pretty revolutionary.  Which is precisely why there was so much resistance to it.

Jesus had another revolutionary mission in mind. He did not pursue a military overthrow of the oppressive forces of Rome. That would have been a fool’s errand. He had other, higher-minded goals. 

His revolution was not economic or political to be achieved by military might. Rather, his revolution was that of the heart and soul of a nation, with the establishment of a spirituality that would redeem the religious leadership of Judaism from its cozy, symbiotic relationship with Rome and begin to establish a freedom from the law of the land and religious tyranny, into a life in the spirit of the religious laws. 

His mission was a way to reestablish the soul of a nation of oppressed people – not for the short term, but for the long haul.

That’s pretty revolutionary. Which is precisely why there was so much resistance to it.

What has any of this have to do with us, today? 

Most of us here in this church this morning are living pretty comfortable lives. Oh, we want more – that’s just human nature. And, some of us need more – better economic security, easier access to quality health care, equal employment opportunity with equal compensation. There are still injustices in our country and in our world.

But, most of us did not go to bed last night with the distant roar of hunger in our bellies. Most of us did not wake up this morning with anxiety about how we were going to feed our children. Yes, we worry about ‘home grown terrorists’ as well as those who may come into this country to overthrow what they believe is a “godless nation” of a democracy and turn it into their own theocracy. 

That said, we are still the greatest free democratic nation in the world, founded on “liberty and justice for all.” The working out of those principles is not without struggle, but those remain the principles to which we adhere and for which we strive.

It’s still a pretty revolutionary idea. Which is why there remains so much resistance to it.

I am struck by the words of Jesus to the seventy which come at the very end of this passage from Luke’s gospel. 

The 70 have been commissioned and sent out “as lambs in the midst of wolves” with instructions to live simply, trusting in the kindness of strangers; to cure the sick and proclaim that the Realm of God has drawn near to them.   

And, when they experience rejection, they are to “kick the dust from their sandals,” proclaim peace and move on.

The seventy returned with joy because of the miracles they had performed. Jesus reminds them of the source of their power and gives to them a spirit of humility, saying that, whether they succeed wildly or fail miserably, God’s love is theirs. 

“Rejoice that your names are written in heaven,” says Jesus. No matter what, God sees. God knows. God understands. God loves.

Revolutionary ideas are bound to fail all along the lines from inception to reality. Martin Luther King, Jr., wisely taught that “the arc of history is long, but it always bends toward justice”. 

We, as a nation, have not always remained true to our goals and ideals. Our history is stained and tarnished by the capture and slavery of Africans and the tyranny and oppression of Native Americans as well as the denial of civil rights to people of color and women and LGBT people.

I think this is what is meant by the words in the Preamble of the Constitution, “ . . in order to be a more perfect union.” We are not perfect. We were never conceived to be perfect. We were created to be “more perfect” – to cast ourselves into the crucible of the refiner’s fire until the arc of history bends toward justice.  And that refiner’s fire is in the free expression of ideas and the controversy and tension that arise from those differences. 

That freedom - used responsibly - is the essence of what it means to be a democracy.

It is in that spirit of humility and expansiveness of freedom and God’s love that I offer this closing hymn as a meditation on this revolutionary idea of being part of something greater than ourselves – this revolutionary notion that “all men” – all people, male, female, young, old, black, white, brown and every shade of God’s glorious palette of creation, gay, and so-called straight, rich and poor, from every nation and people and tongue and tribe – are created equal, even if they do not receive equal treatment under the law. 
The words come from a variety of sources: Poem Lloyd Stone wrote vs 1& 2. Vs 3-5 were written by Methodist Georgia Harkness. The tune is “Finlandia by Jean Sibelius. Wesley has graciously agreed to play it for us. I’ve included the words as a bulletin insert.

As you celebrate today and tomorrow and enjoy the great bounty of this nation, I bid you to remember the words of Jesus. Remember that, no matter what, your names are written in heaven. Remember that God sees. God knows. God understands. And, God loves. Unconditionally.

And, remember the words of this song. Carry them in your heart, so there might be there planted the revolutionary idea of peace in your life, peace in your family, peace in this nation and peace in the world.

For such peace is the product of revolutionary love. 

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country's skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a prayer that peace transcends in every place;
and yet I pray for my beloved country --
the reassurance of continued grace:
Lord, help us find our one-ness in the Savior,
in spite of differences of age and race.

May truth and freedom come to every nation;
may peace abound where strife has raged so long;
that each may seek to love and build together,
a world united, righting every wrong;
a world united in its love for freedom,
proclaiming peace together in one song.

This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth's kingdoms,
thy kingdom come, on earth, thy will be done;
let Christ be lifted up 'til all shall serve him,
and hearts united, learn to live as one:
O hear my prayer, thou God of all the nations,
myself I give thee -- let thy will be done.

Words: Lloyd Stone and Georgia Harkness. 
Tune: Finlandia by Jean Sibelius