Epiphany XXV: Purification

 

Good Friday morning, comrades and citizens of the last vestiges of The Epiphany Season. Tomorrow, February 1, begins Black History Month. Yes, for the whole entire month but, in their wisdom, the "powers that be" gave Black History Month the shortest month. And, the coldest. Le sigh and SMDH.

Tomorrow is the Feast of St. Brigid of Kildare (Brigit, Bridget, Bridgit, Bríd or Bride) (c. 451–525). Yes, it's also the Eve of the Feast of the Presentation - one of the rare times it actually falls on a Sunday.

Actually, Brigid begins quite a Triduum of Feast Days on the first three days of the second month: It's Brigid on the first of February, the Feast of the Presentation on the second (which some celebrate as the Feast of St. Anna the Dancing Queen), and the Feast of St. Blaise on the third.

I'll have more to say about Brigid tomorrow (there are so many wonderful stories about her, she deserves her own day), but I do want to say something about this one aspect of The Feast of the Presentation, also known as Candlemas.

So, Candlemas is on the Feast of the Presentation, which was also known as the Feast of the Purification of Mary, even in the 1549 BCP.

Back in the day, you know, before we completely eradicated sexism and misogyny and the Equal Rights Amendment was not only passed but published by the (woman who is) US Archivist, the church celebrated sexist events like the Purification of Mary - the ancient ritual wherein a woman had to be "purified" of the Icky Stuff of Childbirth, according to Mosaic law, known as the mikvah.

If you are so persuaded, you might count the days from the Feast of the Nativity (12/25) to the Feast of the Presentation (2/2) and come up with 40 days, exactly.

According to the Law of Moses, a woman who gave birth to a son was considered "unclean" for 40 days, at which time she would have typically completed the normal flow of blood after childbirth. She would have to take a mikvah - a ritual bath - which every woman took after her menses - and then go to the priest for special prayers of purification.

This ritual, sans mikvah, was carried out in the Church of England 1549 BCP which occurred at the entrance to the church, with the following prayer:

"O ALMIGHTIE God, which hast delivered this woman thy servant from the great payne and peril of childbirth: Graunt, we beseche thee (most mercifull father), that she through thy helpe may both faithfully lyve, and walke in her vocacyon accordynge to thy will in thys lyfe presente; and also may be partaker of everlastyng glorye in the lyfe to come: through Jesus Christ our lorde. Amen.

There follows this rubrical note:

"The woman that is purifyed, must offer her Crysome (a white cloth, anointed by the priest with holy oil and used for baptism) and other accustomed offeringes. And if there be a communion, it is convenient that she receive the holy communion.

But, you know, communion only if it is "convenient".

The service was renamed The Thanksgiving of Women after Childbirth in the 1552 BCP and renamed, again, A Thanksgiving for the Birth or Adoption of a Child in the 1979 BCP.

We don't have any prayers for purity for women or men in the BCP, except the prayer on the 4th Sunday of Advent: "Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself".

"Purify our conscience," comes from Hebrews 9:14 which refers to the idea that Jesus's blood cleanses people's consciences from dead works. Which is odd for the 4th Sunday in Advent, but hey, as it will say on my tombstone, "Nobody asked me."

It is meet and right, I think, that we have shifted our emphasis to the presentation of Jesus in the Temple as the fulfillment of the prophecy of the Incarnation, as testified by Simeon and Anna.

Candlemas originated in Jerusalem in the late 4th century as a celebration of the light of God in Christ. The name comes from the custom of blessing and distributing candles before Mass. The festival was celebrated in the Western church to honor the Virgin Mary, and in the Eastern church to honor Christ.

Today, in the Episcopal Church, we bless candles in church and take them home to remember Jesus as the Light of the World. We might use them to bless throats on the Feast of St. Blaise, but I'll save that story when it's her feast day.

My rector tells me that he will be blessing candles for distribution on Sunday. I can't remember the last time I was in church when that happened. There's something that excites something in the middle of the middle of my soul about participating in the ancient customs of the church.

It doesn't change a thing. Nobody is "purified" or "cleansed" - except in the collect, we do pray that "we may be presented to you with pure and clean hearts by Jesus Christ our Lord."

I much prefer the new, reformed Collect, which is more to the point. It comes to us from the Canterbury Book of New Parish Prayers by M J Kramer (which I recommend highly).

"God of all nations, whose servant Simeon saw in the child Jesus the revelation of your ancient promises, and whose servant Anna spoke of his truth to all who were seeking redemption, stir up within us your gift of faith, that our eyes may see our salvation in Jesus Christ and our lives be turned to his service, in words of conviction and deeds of compassion, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

So there, now that you know almost everything you need to know about Candlemas, your palate has been cleansed for the stories of the Triduum of Women Saints: Brigid, Anna, and Blaise.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XXIII: The Presentation at Gith Shemen

Good Tuesday morning, good citizens of The Epiphany Season. I've spent the morning reading over the lectionary lessons for Sunday. The Gospel is from Luke 2:22-40, The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. I'm not preaching this Sunday but old habits die hard.

This year, this particular feast happens to arrive on Sunday but it always falls on February 2nd because it is 40 days from the birth of Jesus on December 25th. Forty days would have been the prescribed amount of time, according to the law of Moses, for this ritual to take place.

My thoughts this morning have followed the memory of my heart and my time spent, five years ago, in Israel and Palestine. Images like Polaroid pictures keep cascading before me. Bethlehem. Nazareth. The road in the desert between Jerusalem and Jerico. Eucharist at sunrise in the desert. Jerusalem. Gaza. The Wall.

These images intrude on the images of today. The release of Israeli and Palestinian hostages - each one an innocent victim of war - holding each other tightly in wild abandon of hopes realized and prayers answered. One family will return home. The other family has had their home demolished by bombs. Still, they will be where their hearts are - in Palestine.

Other images: Brown-skinned people being rounded up, torn from their families, and boarded on military cargo planes. We're told by ICE and government officials that these are "dangerous criminals" but investigation reveals that this is true for only half of the men who are being deported.

Innocent victims of another kind of war.

In the second chapter of Luke's gospel, Simon, "a righteous and devout man" who had been promised that he would not see death before he saw the Messiah, greets the parents of Jesus with these words, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-- and a sword will pierce your own soul too."

I can't imagine how Mary and Joseph felt, hearing those words.

Then again, danger and death have always hovered near everything about this child. The announcement and circumstances of his conception. The odd assortment of visitors to the newborn: shepherds with their flock, the three Intellectual Asians who called him King. The visitors had no sooner left when Joseph had a dream of danger and "went home by another way," taking the new family to live for a time in Egypt for safety.

The memory of my mind's eye keeps bringing me back to the Garden of Gethsemane. This is a picture I took when I was there. I wonder if it has suffered any destruction in the war.

The Garden of Gethsemane is on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the Kidron Valley and the Temple Mount. The area is aptly named due to the abundance of olive trees on the mount.

I suddenly remember our guide telling us that "Gith Shemen" means oil press in Hebrew.

There is an ancient olive press in the Garden of Gethsemane. We had several opportunities to see how oil is pressed out of the olives. The olives are crushed, ground, and put through the pressing process more than once to extract every last bit of oil.

Thinking about the process of crushing olives and considering that this garden is where Jesus came to pray before his arrest, our guide read from Isaiah 53:5 "He was crushed for our iniquities," and Isaiah 53:10 "But the LORD was pleased to crush Him." He then left us to consider that the evening Jesus spent in the garden was a time of agonizing prayer, absolute betrayal, and ultimate desertion. And that was only the beginning of the crushing of Christ.

My mind wanders again to images on the news. "Crushing" is a good descriptive word.

The weight of xenophobia and tribalism is crushing an entire community of people who have come to this country to escape the evils and corruption that are the result of crushing years of colonialism.

Greed, fueled by a spirit of lawlessness and the removal of societal and cultural guardrails, is crushing the pillars of democracy.

The firehose of misinformation and disinformation and flat-out lies is crushing the understanding of the truth, along with the truths we have long held to be self-evident: That we are all created equal. That we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable Rights. And that among these rights are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.

The "shock and awe" attack on every facet of how we know ourselves to be Americans seems an intentional strategy, meant to distract and distress us, exhausting us and crushing our spirits and our will to push back and resist.

I think, almost forty days out, we are far from Bethlehem and Nazareth, now. We are at Gith Shemen - in the olive press. The process has just begun. Danger and death hover near.

In my mind's eye, I find myself back where I was five years ago. I see all those magnificent, ancient olive trees and the hope written in ancient rocks and stones that cry out for peace.

We are about to find out what we're really made of. We are about to discover our real worth. We are about to see, once again, the crushing tension between the desire for Liberation and the seduction of Empire. Death and danger hover near. It has ever been thus for those who follow Jesus.

The key has changed but the music is the same.

Will we rejoice like Simon that we can depart in peace, or will we dance like Anna because we know our redemption is near? Or, will we return home like Joseph and Mary, so that Jesus can grow strong and wise, and live our lives of faith until our time has come and we can take our part in the ongoing, ever-revealing Story of the Liberation and Redemption of the Human Spirit?

Or, has that time already arrived?

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XXII: Ellie

 

Good Monday morning, good citizens of the Epiphany Season. I have some sad news this morning. I've just learned that one of my mentors, the Rev Dr Eleanor McLaughlin died peacefully in the NH home she shared with her beloved spouse, the Rev Dr. Betsy Hess, a clinical psychologist and rector of St. Barnabas Church.

They had just celebrated their 24th wedding anniversary on January 12th. Bishop Gene Robinson presided at the marriage one day after it was legal in New Hampshire, and very soon after General Convention approved same-sex marriage. That's Ellie on the right.

In the coming days, there will be many tributes written about Elie. Many will be heartfelt. Most will be true. I have always thought that one of the definitions of "Divine Punishment" is that we never get to hear what people say about us after we die.

Here's the real tragedy, for me, about Ellie's passing. There are so many young women and men, newly ordained and not, who have no idea who Ellie was. And while that's a loss for them, the tragedy is that they don't know the history - or herstory - of which she was such an important part.

Here's the thing about Ellie. She was a church historian and served as Associate Professor of Church History at Andover Newton Seminary. She was also on staff, briefly, at St. John's, Bowdoin Street in Boston, where I was a seminarian.

She was a devout Anglo-Catholic, and in many ways, closer, actually to Rome than Canterbury in a lot of her theology. At least, at the beginning. Before her own transformation.

Because of those two factors - history and catholic theology - she was adamantly opposed to the ordination of women. Mostly, because it didn't make sense to her - or, what she knew - historically and theologically.

It wasn't until Ellie began to look beyond the context of history. As she wrote, "In order to understand the tradition of male priesthood and evaluate its continuance or alteration in the twentieth century, we need to broaden our view, for historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding."

Historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding.

Here is the key that unlocked her mind - and her own vocation - to the ordination of women:

"Priesthood, amongst other things, has to do with the realm of the Holy, its representation and communication to God’s People. We propose therefore to look beyond the traditions surrounding women in Holy Orders to the presence or role of the female or the feminine in the words and images used by medieval Christians for God, whom the priest in some way symbolizes."

Where she had once been touted around church and seminary and academic circles as The Leading Voice in opposition to the ordination of women, when she had her own conversion and vocational experience, the same folks who praised her intellect and academic credentials could not now dismiss her humble but enthusiastic support for the ordination of women, based not only on her own experience but the results of her intellectual inquiry.

Ellie was ordained to the diaconate in February of 1980 and to the priesthood in May of 1981, both by Bishop John Coburn. He was the same bishop who had presided over the vote in the House of Deputies (when he was a priest) to allow women deputies as well as to regularize the ordination of women.

I can not tell you the effect this had on the opposition to the ordination of women. It is not an exaggeration to say that the effect was something akin to a second-wave aftershock following an earthquake. Any remaining false gods of the patriarchy left standing were toppled or seriously damaged.

The silence of objection was glorious. Oh, it was only momentary, followed by the gasp of realization, but it was still highly effective.

Ellie did that. I want you to know that.

It's important that this part of our history is known and understood. Especially since it is entirely possible - indeed probable - for men and women to attend seminary and not be aware of the struggle women had in the first decade after Philadelphia Eleven.

They may have talked about the Philadelphia Eleven as an event in history, but nobody really talks about what happened in that first 10-year wave of women who were ordained - especially the story of the bitter, ugly, cruel, and often violent manifestations of sexism and misogyny for those who were not ordained.

Indeed, it may help us to understand the struggle women continue to have in the church in terms of equal employment opportunities as well as equal compensation.

Ellie was a huge influence on my formation as a priest. More than anyone else, she helped me to navigate the often choppy theological waters between Rome and Canterbury.

I will never, ever forget the Saturday she made available to the women in my seminary class who were about to graduate and be ordained to teach us how to preside at Eucharist.

As I recall, there were five of us. She took exquisite, elegant care to help us understand what it was we were doing - the enormous privilege we had - to be keenly aware of and grateful for it every time ("Every. Singl.e Time," I still hear her say) we presided - as well as all the rubrical considerations.

I can still hear her say, "The way you hold your hands, the tone and volume of your voice, the slight movement of your body as you notice that it will sway, slightly, to the presence and power of the Spirit as you recite or chant those the ancient words, all of that is part and parcel of the sacramental act over which you preside. You are inviting God's people deeper into the mystery that is God. Don't let anything distract you or them from that. You are a vehicle of God's grace. Never forget that. Ever."

I know Ellie said those words all those decades ago because when I prepare myself for the extraordinary privilege of presiding at Eucharist, I hear her voice, reminding me. Encouraging me. Teaching me. Entreating me, with the intense passion that marked everything Ellie did.

I will forever be grateful and blessed that she agreed to be one of my presenters for priestly ordination at St. Ann's Episcopal Church, "The Mill Girl Church," in Lowell, MA, which was built by the owner of the Lowell Textile Mills who imposed a tithe (as in 10% of their salaries - without their consent) on the women who worked the mills in order to build the church.

To "honor" their contribution he named the church after his wife. Whatta guy, huh? I'm sure he thought he was being generous.

I am the daughter and granddaughter of "Massachusetts Mill Girls." Ellie was fascinated by that. "You have to write a book," she said. "You have to tell the story of your grandmother and mother and aunts."

I never did. If I ever do, it will be dedicated to the Rev. Dr. Eleanor McLaughlin. I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude for which she never wrote an invoice and never expected to collect.

One last thing. At the end of their wedding ceremony, Ellie and Betsy sang together and asked the congregation to join them in an old, old hymn that is not in our hymnal. I hope is also sung at her funeral mass. The second verse of "Never Grow Old" is:

When our work here is done
And the life's crown is won
And our troubles and trials are o'er
All our sorrow will end
And our voices will blend
With the loved ones who've gone on before

Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old
Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old

Ellie, the person and priest and scholar she was, the theology she believed in, the history she enjoyed, the lessons she taught, the example she lived, and the role model she provided will never grow old. She will live forever in my heart.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Third Sunday after The Epiphany

 January 26, 2025

Good Sunday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. It's the third Sunday after The Epiphany and, over in the lectionary page, Jesus has gone home to Nazareth and preached his first sermon in his hometown temple.

The sermon went fine. Short. Sweet. To the point. It was the feedback that almost killed him. But, we don't get to hear the way that episode in that story ends. Not this week.

That gospel story reminds me of the experience I had, years ago, at St. Edmunds, the Roman Catholic Church in Rehoboth Beach. Before we bought our own wee cottage, we vacationed for two weeks in a rented home in Rehoboth Beach. I loved to get up early, get over to daily mass, and then walk a bit along the boardwalk before going back home for breakfast.

In those days, there were quite a few priests on staff at St. Edmunds. So, every day, you would get a different priest. I don't think the service lasted more than 30 minutes but there was this one priest - he was my favorite - who preached the shortest sermons in all of Western Christendom.

I remember a few but my favorite was the time he stood up and read the Gospel where Jesus turns over the tables in the Temple. He read the story with particular passion. It was compelling.

And then, he closed the book and we sat down. He paced for a few seconds - but it seemed like a long minute - and then took the time to look us all in the eye.

Then, he opened his mouth and said this: "Jesus is really angry. I wouldn't mess with him."

And then, the priest sat down. He gave us a full minute - but it seemed like it took a long hour - to think about everything before he stood up and continued the service.

One of these days, I'm going to get that good.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XX: Never let a good crisis go to waste.

January 25, 2025

Good Friday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. So, there have been an interesting few *things* happening on social media as responses to the homiletic moment between The Bishop and the Old King.

One is that, apparently, a good deal of the citizenry think that because the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul is more popularly known as "The National Cathedral," it belongs to the government of The United States of America, the way, say, The Cathedral of Notre Dame belongs to France.

Nay, nay. It is the cathedral church of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, DC. The "cathedra" - the chair of the bishop - is kept there, as a symbol of episcopal power and authority.

So, no, children. The POTUS can not "fire" the bishop. Nor can he control what happens at The Cathedral. He can't, for example, order the ashes of Matthew Shepherd, which are interred in a columbarium there, removed, as some on social media have apparently called for.

No, really. They have. Some of the members of the Flying MAGA Monkeys are a vicious lot, aren't they?

Oh, but the viciousness doesn't end there. There's a meme going 'round with a picture of Bishop Mariann with the words, "Deport Illegal Anglicans."

Vicious? Yes. Here's the rich irony of that. That meme is being promoted in the dark, ugly corners of the internet where those who have left the Episcopal Church over the ordination of women and LGBTQ+ people tend to lurk, to nurse their wounds even as they pick at the scabs to keep them open and bleeding.

They have reformed themselves into what they like to call "Anglican churches" - except, they haven't been officially recognized by the Archbishop of Canterbury, so they are not "legal Anglicans."

It would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. And so very, terribly un-Christ-like.

Oh, you're going to love this: One particularly snarky, sad "Anglican" inferred that Bishop Mariann was "racist" when she talked about "the people who pick *our* crops and clean *our* office buildings . . .". As if she were supporting a caste system versus naming the reality that exists in our society.

This is what happens when you eat a steady diet of the Bread of Discontent and Resentment. It can turn young people into crabby old men and women, clutching their cardigan sweaters and shouting, "Get off my damn lawn."

Then there are the inevitable memes with illusions to the game of chess. In that game, of course, there are two bishops, one near the king and one near the queen. A king can move one square horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, one unoccupied square at a time. The king can capture an opponent's piece if it's undefended.

Bishops can move any number of squares diagonally as long as there are no pieces in the way. The long-range diagonal movements of the bishop can be used to protect pawns and threaten the opponent's pawns.

I know. It was too delicious not to meme.

And then, there's the "evangelism moment" this presents for The Episcopal Church. Some are comparing it to the opportunity presented when Michael Curry, then Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, preached at the Royal Wedding.

Umm . . . well, yes, that was a moment. And, while there was some controversy, it was more about the "American Black Church Style" of preaching in a traditional Church of England royal wedding when there was already controversy about the biracial status of the divorced American commoner who was marrying the Prince.

This controversy with this diocesan bishop is different. First of all, the bishop is a woman. And, she spoke directly to the POTUS who would be King. In her two-minute ending to her sermon, she pleaded for "mercy" for "those who are scared right now".

The Bishop moved diagonally over several squares to protect the pawns in the game. The King was notably outraged. This was all to the absolute delight of some and the great distress of others.

So, some are asking, Is it wise to seize the moment for evangelism when you are only going to appeal to 49.8% of those who voted for the King?

Only half? Isn't half more than we have now?

Is it reasonable to expect that our appeal will be 100%? Didn't Jesus say, "Let those who have ears hear?" I suspect he knew that some are simply incapable of hearing the Good News.

In a time of the "official governmental demise" of DEI, what percentage of the population will be attracted to our slogan, "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You"?

How many will be offended by our ad campaigns, many of them showing women and people of color smiling and laughing and standing shoulder to shoulder with Caucasian men and women?

Or, is that the appeal of denominationalism? Different angles on the same gem? If you don't like our sparkle, try another denominational prism.

Here's another concern: Are we promoting the Gospel of Jesus Christ or are we promoting those who promote the Gospel?

Which brings us to the essential question: Why do people come to church? Is it to hear the Gospel or to hear the particular person who is proclaiming the Gospel?

How much of the leader's personality is a healthy part of the church's appeal?

I'm thinking here of that passage from 1 Corinthians 1:12-13 "What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[a]”; still another, “I follow Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?"

It's an interesting dance, isn't it? Apparently, it's as old as the early church. Evangelism vs a promotion/marketing thing based on the leader's personality.

I don't have any answers. It's just an endless fascination for me. And, apparently, for the church.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: This is a great time to be a Christian. Indeed, I think it's a great time to be a person of faith. That's because this time is calling us to look closely at what it is we say we believe and who it is we say we are. And, to stand up and speak out for both.

Rahm Emanuel said, "You never want a good crisis to go to waste." I think the man makes a good point.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XIX: Evangelism or PR?

January 24, 2025

Good Friday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. So, there have been an interesting few *things* happening on social media as responses to the homiletic moment between The Bishop and the Old King.

One is that, apparently, a good deal of the citizenry think that because the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul is more popularly known as "The National Cathedral," it belongs to the government of The United States of America, the way, say, The Cathedral of Notre Dame belongs to France.

Nay, nay. It is the cathedral church of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, DC. The "cathedra" - the chair of the bishop - is kept there, as a symbol of episcopal power and authority.

So, no, children. The POTUS can not "fire" the bishop. Nor can he control what happens at The Cathedral. He can't, for example, order the ashes of Matthew Shepherd, which are interred in a columbarium there, removed, as some on social media have apparently called for.

No, really. They have. Some of the members of the Flying MAGA Monkeys are a vicious lot, aren't they?

Oh, but the viciousness doesn't end there. There's a meme going 'round with a picture of Bishop Mariann with the words, "Deport Illegal Anglicans."

Vicious? Yes. Here's the rich irony of that. That meme is being promoted in the dark, ugly corners of the internet where those who have left the Episcopal Church over the ordination of women and LGBTQ+ people tend to lurk, to nurse their wounds even as they pick at the scabs to keep them open and bleeding.

They have reformed themselves into what they like to call "Anglican churches" - except, they haven't been officially recognized by the Archbishop of Canterbury, so they are not "legal Anglicans."

It would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. And so very, terribly un-Christ-like.

Oh, you're going to love this: One particularly snarky, sad "Anglican" inferred that Bishop Mariann was "racist" when she talked about "the people who pick *our* crops and clean *our* office buildings . . .". As if she were supporting a caste system versus naming the reality that exists in our society.

This is what happens when you eat a steady diet of the Bread of Discontent and Resentment. It can turn young people into crabby old men and women, clutching their cardigan sweaters and shouting, "Get off my damn lawn."

Then there are the inevitable memes with illusions to the game of chess. In that game, of course, there are two bishops, one near the king and one near the queen. A king can move one square horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, one unoccupied square at a time. The king can capture an opponent's piece if it's undefended.

Bishops can move any number of squares diagonally as long as there are no pieces in the way. The long-range diagonal movements of the bishop can be used to protect pawns and threaten the opponent's pawns.

I know. It was too delicious not to meme.

And then, there's the "evangelism moment" this presents for The Episcopal Church. Some are comparing it to the opportunity presented when Michael Curry, then Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, preached at the Royal Wedding.

Umm . . . well, yes, that was a moment. And, while there was some controversy, it was more about the "American Black Church Style" of preaching in a traditional Church of England royal wedding when there was already controversy about the biracial status of the divorced American commoner who was marrying the Prince.

This controversy with this diocesan bishop is different. First of all, the bishop is a woman. And, she spoke directly to the POTUS who would be King. In her two-minute ending to her sermon, she pleaded for "mercy" for "those who are scared right now".

The Bishop moved diagonally over several squares to protect the pawns in the game. The King was notably outraged. This was all to the absolute delight of some and the great distress of others.

So, some are asking, Is it wise to seize the moment for evangelism when you are only going to appeal to 49.8% of those who voted for the King?

Only half? Isn't half more than we have now?

Is it reasonable to expect that our appeal will be 100%? Didn't Jesus say, "Let those who have ears hear?" I suspect he knew that some are simply incapable of hearing the Good News.

In a time of the "official governmental demise" of DEI, what percentage of the population will be attracted to our slogan, "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You"?

How many will be offended by our ad campaigns, many of them showing women and people of color smiling and laughing and standing shoulder to shoulder with Caucasian men and women?

Or, is that the appeal of denominationalism? Different angles on the same gem? If you don't like our sparkle, try another denominational prism.

Here's another concern: Are we promoting the Gospel of Jesus Christ or are we promoting those who promote the Gospel?

Which brings us to the essential question: Why do people come to church? Is it to hear the Gospel or to hear the particular person who is proclaiming the Gospel?

How much of the leader's personality is a healthy part of the church's appeal?

I'm thinking here of that passage from 1 Corinthians 1:12-13 "What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[a]”; still another, “I follow Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?"

It's an interesting dance, isn't it? Apparently, it's as old as the early church. Evangelism vs a promotion/marketing thing based on the leader's personality.

I don't have any answers. It's just an endless fascination for me. And, apparently, for the church.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: This is a great time to be a Christian. Indeed, I think it's a great time to be a person of faith. That's because this time is calling us to look closely at what it is we say we believe and who it is we say we are. And, to stand up and speak out for both.

Rahm Emanuel said, "You never want a good crisis to go to waste." I think the man makes a good point.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.
 

Epiphany XVIII: Time

Good Thursday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. Is it only the 23rd of January? Really? I'd swear it was already the end of the year, but we've just started collecting information for our tax accountant so it can't be.

Then again, to read some of the comments on social media after the Inauguration and Bishop Mariann's sermon on Monday, you'd think we were back in 1950 - or, at least, that's where some people think we ought to be.

I was actually on one thread where one brilliant woman insisted that Bishop Mariann was not a bishop because - duh! - women can't be bishops. Says so right in the B I B L E. According to her brilliant logic, if The Bible says it can't be, it isn't.

Ever notice how the very people who make pronouncements like this have absolutely no credentials so to do? People who've never been to seminary much less Bible College are suddenly expert theologians.

These same people are also experts in economics, public policy and immigration and, without ever going near a medical or dental school, are experts on immunology, diabetes, heart disease, and preventing tooth decay, with special proficiency in horse medicine for contagious diseases.

Yes, they're baaaack. Actually, they never went away. They are just now emboldened to give us their wisdom because they have the King they've been praying for who has placed similarly qualified "experts" in positions of authority and power.

Look, it's going to be a long four years. Even if - WHEN - we take back the House and/or Senate in two years, it's going to feel like an eternity.

Hear me: We can do this. We've done it before. We can do it again. Yes, this time we are not up against one man but a regime. Yes, that makes it much more difficult.

Hear me: We can do this. We will do this. And, we will do it with humility and grace, kindness and compassion, and great strength
and clarity.

There will be moments like we had this week, divinely inspired moments when an Episcopal bishop, a woman, stands up to The Old King and pleads for mercy for all who are scared right now. .

These moments will lift our spirits and provide us the inspiration to keep on keeping on. Some of us who were in for the long haul have gotten fat and lazy over the past few years of progress. Others of us have never had to develop our "gospel muscles".

Time to get in shape. Time to spend more time with Jesus, sitting at the feet of the master. Indeed, time to spend time with Spiritual Masters like Buddha and Abraham Heschel and Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chodron and the Dahli Lama and Desmond Tutu and Martin Luther King, Jr. and Howard Thurman.

Just last week, my friend, Mark Harris, reminded me that Mao Tse-Tung once wrote, "Everything under heaven is chaos; the situation is excellent."

There's no better time to be a Christian than right now.

Let's do this.

I hope something good happens to you today,

Bom dia.

Epiphany XVII: Heroes and Christians

It's late afternoon on Wednesday. It was a very busy morning. Trust me on this. But, in everything I did, everyone with whom I spoke, every conversation was punctuated with talk of The Bishop and The Old King.

I'm speaking, of course, of Bishop Mariann Budde, who preached the Gospel into the very face of the most powerful man in any government in the so-called "Free World" - or, what's left of it because it is tilting again to the Right.

Some want to make her a hero. She is not. She's a Christian.

We've so tamed the Gospel, so domesticated Jesus and turned him into a lovely, purring lap cat that we've forgotten that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is dangerous. We've lost sight of what a huge risk it is to live out the important lessons that Jesus taught.

Leadership 101: The leader sets the standard. Old King Donald is dangerous because he has set the standard of cruelty and violence, revenge, and retribution.

Bishop Mariann Budde is dangerous because she has set the Gospel standard of self-sacrificial love, of speaking Truth to power, and of giving a voice to the voiceless.

The Flying Maga Monkeys will do exactly as their leader asks them to do. Of this, there is no question.

Will Christians at least strive to meet the standard set for us by Jesus and demonstrated for us by a bishop in the church? Now, that's the question.

 

Some of us have rushed to make her a hero, even circulating a picture of her in a stained glass window with a bible verse, just like those we see in our churches.

We don't need a hero. We need Christians.

Not White Supremacy Christians. Not the kind of Christians who use the bible to defend slavery and promote a return to it. Not the kind of Christians who use the bible to oppress women, and LGBTQ+ people, and those who are strangers seeking hospitality in a foreign land until they can make it their home.

No, we need Christians who have actually read the Bible and studied it and understand its context as well as its application for the world today. We need Christians who try to live out the standards set by the teachings of The Incarnation of God, the Messiah known as Jesus the Christ.

You want a hero? See that Blue Heron there, in the picture, bundled up against the wind by staying in the tall seagrass? That right there is a hero.

This morning, I was on a Zoom call with my sibling clergy. We were studying the lessons from this Sunday's lectionary. Someone had just started to read Paul's Epistle (1 Corinthians 12:12-31a) about how we are all part of the amazing interconnected web of relationships that make us part of the Body of Christ.

Just then, I happened to look out my sunroom window. A duck had flown in earlier and landed on the ice. Now, he was sitting down on the ice and flapping his wings wildly as he called out in clear distress.

Suddenly, several Merganser ducks - maybe five or six - flew in and surrounded the duck. They started flapping their wings wildly and stomping their webbed feet. I assume they were trying to free their friend from the frozen ice, but to no avail.

Then, the Blue Heron stepped out a bit from the seagrass and began to peck at the ice with his enormous bill. It didn't take long before the thin ice cracked and the duck was free. Several of the ducks fell into the water with him but they soon were able to get back up on the ice and fly the short distance into where the current and sun had melted the ice.

And, there it was. Right before my very eyes. Mother Nature was providing a parable to exemplify the words of Paul about how to live in community.

Everyone did what they could, everyone took part, including the Blue Heron. "To whom much is given, much is expected."

The Mergansers and the Blue Heron were heroes.

Bishop Mariann is a Christian. Just like you. Just like me.

She saw a chance to use what power and authority she had to speak truth directly into the face of power. That's exactly what Jesus asks her to do.

That's exactly what Jesus asks us to do. And, I submit that we have more power and authority than we think we do. We just need to learn how to work together.

Is it dangerous? You bet it is. That's in the very DNA of the Gospel. We've just gotten so comfortable with it, not had to pay the price of it for so long, we've either forgotten or we never really understood.

Bishop Mariann helped us to remember that. Or, learn it for the very first time.

It's not to late to say that I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XVI: Wishbone, Jawbone, Backbone

 

Good Tuesday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. When I woke up this morning, it was 14 degrees. It's currently 16 degrees. There is snow and ice this morning in parts of Florida.

According to the weather service, at least 4 to 6 inches of snow are possible from southeastern Texas into southern Louisiana. California expects 70 mph Santa Ana winds today, making it difficult for firefighters to douse the fire that is, last I heard on NPR, 61% contained.

The governor of Mississippi declared a state of emergency ahead of today's anticipated storms as the state grapples with freezing temperatures and Central Mississippi could see up to 2 inches of snow. Further east, ice totals between a tenth and a quarter of an inch are forecasted in south-central Georgia.

There's more but, well, as Bob Dylan sang, "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."

It's as if Mother Nature is giving us a preview of coming attractions in our political life.

As cold and cruel as the weather is this morning, it can not compare with what is inside the hearts of some people who sit in elected and appointed seats of government in our Nation's Capital, giddy with the power and authority now in their hands.

They will do stupid and cruel things simply because they can. As I learned in Leadership 101, the leader sets the tone.

I woke up this morning, and the realization slowly dawned on me that our biggest problem is not Old King Donald and his Royal Court or the House of Lords.

No, our biggest problem is the people who elected him. As if that were not enough, they also gave him the majority of the House and Senate to aid and abet (vs advice and consent) the implementation of Project 2025.

No, I didn't vote for him, but *we* did. He won by a majority of less than 1% but, in this country, the majority rules. *We* elected him. Like it or not (and I don't) he is *our* president.

As I considered that epiphany (or, was it, as The Car Talk Brothers would say, a "stupiphany" - the sudden realization that you've been an idiot) I heard myself say, right out loud, "This really IS the best time to be a Christian."

Followers of Jesus have always risen to their best moral selves in the face of evil. Scripture is filled with such stories. So are the history books of the foundation and formation of this country.

There's an old saying I've heard repeated by some of my older Hospice patients, especially those who grew up with "that old-time religion," deep in the rural farm areas of Delaware.

Those old chicken and cash crop farmers who didn't have pensions or 401Ks or consulting gigs or seats on Boards of Directors lived on the meager income of their social security checks, as well as the food they still grew and the eggs from the chickens they still raised.

They didn't have much education after high school - if they were lucky enough not to have been pulled out to help on the farm - and mostly got their Master's Degree from the University of Life, School of Hard Knocks.

They would tell me that in times of distress or crisis if you pray to Jesus and "feed on his word," he will give you three strong bones: a wishbone, a jawbone, and a backbone.

You need a wishbone, they said, to imagine a life that's different than right now. A life of abundance when everyone else is talking about scarcity. A life where people share what they've got instead of hoarding things for themselves. A life where people are kind and help each other, like when Jesus sat everybody down and they found that two fish and five loaves were enough so no one would go hungry.

Jesus will give you a jawbone so you can ask for help when you need it, speak your mind when you have to, and speak up for others when they need help, too. A jawbone helps you to raise questions so you can feed your curiosity and actually use the intelligence that God put in your head.

Finally, if you listen to Jesus, he will strengthen your backbone so you will have the courage, strength, and determination you need to follow the teachings of Jesus and walk and talk and live like a Christian.

A wishbone. A jawbone. A backbone.

Guess you know what my prayers are today - and for the next four years.

As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once preached, "We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now."

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XV: An Extraordinary Coincidence

 

Good Monday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. When I put my feet on the floor first thing this morning, it was 20 degrees. In 2009, when I was in DC for the second inauguration of Barack Obama, it was 28 degrees. There were wind gusts up to 23 mph.

Between the long lines of millions of people and the several security checks, it took two hours to get to a place where we could see the Capitol Building, there, in the distance, but we watched the inauguration on one of the many Jumbotrons out on the lawn.

It was C O L D. Dangerously so. But, I was bundled up in warm clothing, several pairs of socks and warm boots, a hat, a scarf, and gloves. The joy and delight in my heart were irrepressible and all the fuel I needed to keep me warm.

The nice lady who now runs The Geranium Farm published a prayer today for MLK, Jr., and the Inauguration. She called it "an extraordinary coincidence". I suppose it is. Or, it is just as it was intended when the possibility of this confluence of events first showed up in the heavenly Lottery Drum of Calendar Events.

The prayer for MLK, Jr, from the Book of Lesser Feasts and Fasts asks that "your church . . . may resist oppression in the name of your love, and may strive to secure for all your children the blessed liberty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. . .".

I prayed that prayer fervently this morning.

The source of the prayer for the Inauguration was listed as "Prayerpedia". Bless their hearts. I'm sure they meant well.

I suppose someone had to write it. And, for any other inauguration, it would be a good prayer. An appropriate prayer. A prayer that contained reasonable petitions to an omnipotent, all-powerful God.

The first petition: "May your Holy Spirit instill our president of righteousness and the values and principles of your kingdom to exercise the sacred trust of administering the nation."

The second: "Give our new president, his administration, and Congress the ability to honor you by doing what is right, fair, and just for all citizens, especially the poor, hungry, and marginalized."

By the time I got to the third, I had to stop: "We ask that all the people in our nation, irrespective of race, gender, ethnicity, or religious faith be treated with dignity."

I could hear my grandmother say, "Yeah, and people in hell want ice water, too."

It's just that it hurts my heart to have to pray for these things which I know are possible to obtain only through the miraculous power and intervention of God.

It makes my head ache to have to pray for the things that I understand are central to - baked into - the fiber and fabric and DNA of this "one Republic, under God," which is governed by a system of government known as a "participatory democracy".

And, it hurts to know that I am asking for things that this particular elected official is "constitutionally incapable" of achieving.

Hear me, now: There is nothing in the world wrong with praying this prayer. And, there is something to the sentiment that says if you don't ask, how can you expect to receive? And yes, I know that Our God is an Awesome God and that Jesus told us, "with God, all things are possible".

I was sixteen once and sang "Dream the Impossible Dream" from a heart that was filled with altruism and nobility and adolescent hope. And then, I grew up and realized that most miracles happen when your sleeves are rolled up, your work boots are on, and there's a bead of sweat on your brow.

You may even have a few bruises on your body and scars on your heart, and your faith may be shaken, but you know, deep in every fiber of your being, that "this bridge called my back" will be part of what carries us from where we are to where we hope to be - one day, a day we may not see with our own eyes but through the eyes of our children and our children's children.

God works through our work. And, God loves us enough to let us make our own mistakes so we can learn the lessons we couldn't
learn any other way.

So, this is a day when I'm going to "keep my eye on the prize". When I'm going to stay focused on the last words of the poem I heard Amanda Gorman recite at Joe Biden's Inauguration in 2021:

"We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked South.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it."

We are still locked in a battle for the soul of this nation. The spiritual war is still waging.

Let's do this.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany

 

Good Sunday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. We are rolling right into the third of the Great Manifestations of the Incarnation.

The first was the visit of the Magi. The second was his Baptism (a bit off the timeline, but whatever). This week is the miracle at the Wedding Feast in Cana of Galilee. Next week will be Jesus' first sermon in the Temple.

Back to the Wedding. My friend Lindy - a brilliant writer, especially of biblical reflections - calls this story "The Secret Life of Miracles". As she points out, this miracle, his first public miracle, was done in secret - down where the water used for ritual was kept.

There was no wine. Mary, his mother, points that out to him. Why? Dunno. Except, of course, she knew. She knew he could do it. How? Dunno. Maybe he had been practicing around the house?

"Jesus? Jesus, we're out of ketchup. I've got some tomatoes here. Be a good boy and turn them into ketchup for me, please. No, that wood you're sawing for your father can wait. Now, son. I need it right away for the meatloaf."

Or, something.

It's important to note that Cana, like Nazareth, is a little town of absolutely no import. About 10 kilometers from Nazareth, it seems to have been a place most people only passed through on their way to somewhere else. Indeed, it is never mentioned in Hebrew Scripture but three times in Christian Scripture.

So, it is in this out-of-the-way, sleepy little town where nothing ever happens that Jesus performs his first miracle. In secret.

There's another aspect of this story that strikes me. Timing. The wedding hosts didn't know how to pace the serving of the wine so that it would last. Mary knew it was time for Jesus to perform his first miracle, but he, apparently, didn't.

And then, he did. Or, at least, he was convinced by his mother that his "hour had come". When Jesus finally decided that the time was right, he changed approximately 120 gallons of sacred water into wine.

It wasn't just wine, it was primo, top-shelf stuff. Even the wine steward mentioned it to the bridegroom, saying, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."

That Jesus. Such an over-achiever! He got an A++ on his very first miracle. Which may have been the reason for his sense of timing. He wanted to be sure he could do his best.

Nah. I think the reason Jesus decided to listen to his mother can be found in the last part of the last sentence. " . . .and his disciples believed in him."

Me? I think he did it because he realized his mother was right. It was time. He needed to do this for his disciples. So they could believe in him. So they could believe in themselves. That, they could have the epiphany that they were right.

Jesus is the Anointed One.

Jesus is the Messiah.

Jesus is the Incarnation of God.

Off I go, then, into this day when yet another snowstorm is predicted.

In the meantime, please enjoy The Rowan Atkins translation of John's Gospel of the Wedding Feast at Cana. It is not (yet) approved by General Convention as an authorized text for public worship, but it is certifiably hilarious.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfRbtaoddIA

Epiphany XII: Ring the bell

Good Saturday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season.

See that woman in the picture above? The one in the white coat, holding flowers? In the picture on the left, she's standing next to her radiation team. She is "ringing the bell," and everyone is celebrating that she has finished this round of radiation.

She looks pretty good, right? Happiness can do that to a person, even though radiation has pretty much whipped her butt. All the other symptoms are manageable, but exhaustion? Well, exhaustion is a particular poison to a child of immigrants.

I remember, once, as a young child, being bored on a Saturday afternoon. I had done all my chores, and we didn't own a TV. It was raining outside so I couldn't ride my bike. My girlfriend, Maureen, had a cold, so I couldn't play with her. (Besides, her mother wouldn't let me in her house because I was a "dirty Portugee" but that's another story for another time.)

So, my grandmother looked at me and said, "What's wrong with you?" And I, (stupid, stupid girl) took a long, sad sigh and then said, "There's nothing to do."

"There's Nothing to do?" she said. "There's NOTHING to DOOOO?" "What do you mean, THERE'S NOTHING TO DOOO?"

And then, she fixed that problem right quick. For the next hour, I polished the "claw legs" under her dining room table, took off the knobs on her Victrola Radio and polished those, and then, I starched and ironed all the purificators for the church.

I never said those words again. Indeed, I don't think I've ever thought those words again. Now I think, "Hmm . .. what else needs to be done?"

This exhaustion shall pass. I am learning a new skill. I am pacing myself. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. But, I'm learning.

That other picture? Of the woman on the right, ringing the bell? That's a picture of an old dog who is learning new tricks. And, you know, she's not unhappy about it.

She's just happy to be finished with this phase of her treatment. She's also happy because she knows she's got a week to recover before she starts chemotherapy. She's delighted to look forward to feeling more like herself and maybe, just maybe, completing one of the many projects that have been on 'pause'.

It's a good day today. It's a brand new day, today. The page on this chapter of life is waiting to be turned and opened and written upon. It's a great day to be alive. It's a gift to be alive.

And, that would be enough (Dayenu), but there lies the within this day the distinct possibility that I might be able to be part of something good. Something kind. Something noble. Some little thing that will make a small difference on this day in this life for someone.

I am so grateful. And, that gratitude fills me with a sense of joy.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Epiphany XI: Amazement

Good Friday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. It's another chilly January morning here on the Delmarva Peninsula. The water in front of our house is frozen solid. The Merganser ducks and other waterfowl are not pleased.

The only thing left to do is to simply wait it out until the season changes and the temperature warms as the days grow longer and the sun shines again. And, bundle up in a warm coat, a hat, and some gloves when you go outside. And, warm boots.

I woke up this morning, remembering something my grandmother said, "If you live long enough you will learn a few things. It doesn't mean you're smart or wise. It just means that you'll have acquired a lot of information. It's what you do with that information that makes you smart or wise."

Last night, I completed an entire category in Jeopardy, and then I completed the Double Jeopardy answer. And, it wasn't even Teen Week. Actually, it was The Second Chance Championship.

I even got a few answers that the panel didn't. I think I love it best when that happens. Especially when that happens several times in 30 minutes. That is second only to when I get the Final Jeopardy question and none of the rest of the panel does.

I remembered something I heard the brilliant actor, Emma Stone, say during an interview. She said that what she really, really, really wanted in life was to qualify to appear on Jeopardy. That was her goal. What happened after that was immaterial. She just wanted to qualify to appear on Jeopardy.

She said she had taken the online exam and it had been almost a year but she hadn't heard anything and was really starting to get concerned that she wouldn't make the cut. The interviewer suggested that perhaps she would be invited to Celebrity Jeopardy. Ms. Stone did not want that. "I want to be on Jeopardy with all the other smart people," she said.

And then she revealed that, because of her chosen profession, she had never graduated from high school or college. And, she said, this would be a marker of having attained and acquired enough information in her life that she had "accomplished something."

Mind you, Emma Stone is nothing if not an accomplished actor. She has won not one but two Academy Awards. She has also won two BAFAs (British Academy Film Awards), and two Golden Globe Awards. In 2017, she was the world's highest-paid actress and was named by Time magazine as one of the 100 most influential people in the world.

But, she doesn't have a high school diploma or college degree and all she wants is to qualify and be invited to play Jeopardy.

Isn't that amazing? Aren't we humans odd creatures? Indeed, we may well be the oddest of all of God's creatures.

When the water freezes, Mergansers and other ducks and waterfowl move to open water or migrate to warmer climates. That's not a decision they've made based on information they got at The Elementary School for Ducks and Other Waterfowl.

I know humans who have acquired lots of information in their lives, but they aren't as smart as some ducks. Indeed, as I've observed some of my wildlife neighbors over the years - especially the red foxes, deer, rabbits, and turtles - some of these creatures appear not only smart but quite wise, especially as they tend to and feed their young.

Don't get me wrong, I'm as pleased as I can be with my accomplishment last night. It doesn't prove a thing, however, about my value or worth as a person. It's not a real measure of my intelligence or abilities. It certainly has little or no connection to any wisdom I may have.

No, I think one of the greatest measures of our growth and development, and maturation as a member of the human species is our ability to be compassionate and kind. Because those qualities come from a heart that is filled with gratitude. And, a heart that is filled with gratitude beats in the chest of a human being who understands that all of this life, this very brief time on this very fragile planet, is a gift.

The true measure of the advancement and achievement of our skills and knowledge and wisdom can not really be calculated because it lies in our ability to be amazed.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel once said that we should get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. It is to understand that "everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible".

I believe that a heart that is filled with gratitude could never treat life casually. Rabbi Heschel said, "To be spiritual is to be amazed."

I think this is what Rabbi Jesus meant when he said that people should become like children to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Somewhere I have a video of one of our grandchildren laughing uproariously as her mother reads "Goodnight Moon." I remember showing that clip to one of my mentors who said, "That's the way it should be when we hear the Gospel in church. It should be such incredibly good news that we giggle like children with pure joy and delight and amazement."

While I think it may piss God off if we don't use the intelligence and skills and talents with which we were blessed to do good in this life, being amazed by the wonders of God as a child is amazed and delighted by simple pleasures is the real measure of our achievement as humans who are spiritual beings.

As Ann Lamott writes, WOW is one of three essential prayers. The other two are HELP and THANKS.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

PS: Please continue to pray for the people in California as they struggle to recover from the devastation of this catastrophic fire.

Epiphany X: It's up to us

Good Thursday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. The cold weather - 15 degrees this morning - is rather shocking to the system. Thank God we are blessed to have this wee cozy cottage. Our warmest thoughts and deepest prayers are with our siblings in California who have lost their homes or sustained terrible damage to them, and especially those who have lost the lives of their loved ones.

For many of us, the world feels increasingly out of control. Even with the good news of the cease-fire in Israel-Palestine, the next thirty days are very fragile. So many things could happen - might happen - to cause the whole thing to come crumbling down.

President Biden's farewell speech last night was a work of political brilliance. He did not waste time on self-accolades but simply, briefly highlighted the major accomplishments of his administration.

He said the word: Oligarchy. Said it. Right in front of God and the whole country - indeed, the international stage. He blew the trumpet in Zion, to sanctify a fast and gather a solemn assembly to stay together and stand fast in the democratic principles that founded this great nation.

The Statue of Liberty, he reminded us, was masterfully designed to sway a little when the storms rage. And, he cautioned, so must we.

I could hear Motormouth Maybelle somewhere in my head saying, "Well, love is a gift, a lot of people don't remember that. So, you two better brace yourselves for a whole lotta ugly comin' at you from a neverending parade of stupid."

"It's up to you," he said.

The smooth transition of power is not going to be from one administration to another, but from one former POTUS to the American people.

It's up to us.

We live in a representative democracy. The key to a successful democracy is a highly participatory citizenry. You know what that means: We are going to have to start showing up. We are going to have to start speaking out. And, if you've already been doing that, you've got to start inspiring others to do the same.

Each one, teach one. That was one of the slogans of the Civil Rights Movement. Now is the time to bring that back.

Most importantly, we are going to have to be radical. By that I mean, orthodox. By which I mean "back to our roots."

We are going to have to be intentionally kind to each other.

That feels an impossible vocation in a political culture and climate where cruelty is the point.

No, it doesn't mean that we lie down and let people walk all over us - not unless it is part of an act of peaceful protest.

No, it does not mean that we smile while acts of cruelty are being done in our name. It means that we do not honor cruelty and stupidity by engaging with it. Smile and walk away. And then, work in small groups to agitate, to be subversive, to prevent the emerging social paradigm of cruelty from the place of dominance it is insistent on claiming.

President Biden modeled the calm, kind but strong, insistent, and persistent demeanor we are all going to need to adapt if we are going to get through the next two years before we can take back at least one branch of government.

My mantra these days is "Be kind. Be kind. Be kind." I have to say that, over and over, because honestly? That's not my first impulse. However, it's as MLK Jr said, ""Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that."

And, the second is like unto it, from the words of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar at the All India Depressed Classes conference in 1942 in India: "Educate. Agitate. Organize."

My daily prayer includes these words from MLK, Jr's letter from the Birmingham Jail. "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly."

It's up to us, now. Let's stay focused and do this. We got a whole lotta ugly that's going to come at us from a neverending parade of stupid. Like the Lady with the Lamp in the harbor, we're going to have to learn to sway in the upcoming storm.

We can do this. Together.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.