Sermon - July 24: Boarded Up Houses, Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

I want to thank Deanna for this image that started me thinking: The Kingdom of God is like a boarded up house. Typically, I don't like to publish sermons; they are relational experiences and they are oral/aural beasts, not written essays, but someone asked for this sermon to be posted.

On Friday a bomb exploded in Oslo, followed by a gunman unleashing on youth at a political camp in Norway. Over 90 people are dead. Immediately talk began to fly about militant and extremist Muslims as the responsible parties. Yet, it appears to be a right wing "Christian" who was angered by European tolerance of difference and liberal policy who may be to blame. In our country on Friday, talks broke down between Republicans and the White House as they tried to reach a deal to raise the debt ceiling and address debt in a comprehensive way. House Speaker John Boehner walked away from the talks and the President took to the bully pulpit for a rare expression of clear and unabated anger. Also this week, the UN finally declared two regions of Southern Somalia to be in a state of famine - a word rarely used in international circles because it is fraught with political ramifications. Need I go on? These are just things that happened this week.

All around us is bad news. Sometimes we feel like hiding in our homes just to escape the crushing weight of the world. All of us know people who have been deeply affected by difficult financial times; perhaps we ourselves have lost a job, declared bankruptcy, or struggled in another way. People we love die. Life can, and often is, difficult, unfair, and unrelenting. In the news and in our lives, the bad stuff can be easily seen and experienced. It’s just right there all the time staring us down.

Jesus lived in times no less difficult than ours. He was from Galilee, the place of poor peasant farmers and fishermen, a place of subsistence living. Throughout this rural region, he walked and traveled, in which he taught, preached, and healed. It was to these people he came proclaiming God’s Kingdom - what it is, what it could be, and how they could live in it even while they resided along the rocky ways of Galilee. They struggled to make it through each season. Would there be enough harvest? Would they have to borrow against future earnings? How much tax would they have to give to the Romans? Would there be enough fish to pay the taxes and feed their families? Illness, war, conscription, debt, drought. These were on the minds of folks then in even more acute ways than they are on our minds today. Farmers today may struggle through a bad season, but a bad season to first century Jews in Galilee could mean life or death. Just as we have a difficult time seeing the hope in the world, of seeing and experiencing God’s kingdom, the people in Galilee were no different. Jesus came to invite them into a kingdom they could neither see nor imagine. He comes to us to do the same thing. Not because bad things don’t happen. But because they do. And, at the core of the Kingdom is a trust that a better life is possible - a better life on this earth, in community with one another. God’s kingdom invites us to live in a reality which we cannot even imagine. And, this requires us to let go of the images given us by the evil one, who tells us to live afraid, scared, in hiding. No, Jesus says. Live into the fullness of life even in the midst of doubt, even in the midst of difficulty.

You always know when Jesus is telling us a story that is about God because he says things that don’t make sense: a shepherd that leaves 99 sheep to find one sheep. No one would do that. Today he uses that same technique. He tells us about God’s Kingdom being like a mustard seed that grows into a great tree. He also tells us about a woman putting too much yeast into her bread. This pair of images teach us about God’s wild abundance. Mustard is an easy plant to grow; it is more like a weed than a cultivated plant. Even I can grow mustard. It breaks through concrete and grows in the most unlikely places. It can grow into a tree, but usually it is a scrubby brambling plant that gets out of control. This image would have made first century Jews laugh out loud. It would be like me saying, The kingdom of God is like a dandelion. Really?

I’m not baker, but I know that too much yeast results in an explosion. As a matter of fact, when I was a kid my mom accidentally used yeast along with self-rising flour. And, indeed, her cake exploded in the oven. Hyperbolic language is used on purpose to help us understand the largeness of God, the bigness, the boldness, the eruption of God’s kingdom. These are unlikely images to be used; they are unlikely things to happen; peasant people would have known about bread and about mustard plants. They would have known that God’s kingdom wouldn’t be like a scrubby tree that grows like a weed or exploding bread. But, we are to believe it. We are to trust that God is bigger and grander than our imaginings, that God cannot be confined by our human made boundaries, our human designed barriers, our human dreamed limits. We cannot confine God’s kingdom. It will break out. It will erupt among us despite our best efforts to control it, our need to make God fit into our molds.

A few verses later Jesus tells another few parables. The kingdom is like a hidden treasure in a field that someone sells all he has to go search for. And the kingdom is like one pearl that someone sells all that he has in order to have it. This is about the great value of God’s kingdom. It is beyond anything we would hope to have. Who would do this? No one does this. Sell everything you have to search in a field for a treasure which may or may not be there? Give up all of one’s wealth for a pearl? It’s utter folly. But, God’s kingdom is kind of like folly. It isn’t a reasonable thing to believe in God’s kingdom, to try and live there. It goes against all of the common sense of our world, which tells us to hoard what little wealth we have, to store it all up, to be afraid of...well, everything.

Last, we are told that the kingdom is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of very kind. No fisherman brings up every kind of fish. First of all, if you have ever been fishing, you know that fishing is a hit or miss operation, even net fishing. Second, a good fisherman wouldn’t bring in all of those fish. God scoops us all up.

I have been thinking about these texts a lot lately. I think the Kingdom of God is like a boarded up house in a bad part of town. A person sells all she has to move into it and make it a home. I think the Kingdom of God is like a boarded up motel along Aurora Avenue, once used as a place for prostitution and drug dealing into which a community of people move to live in intentional community. Something used for exploitation turned into a community of Resurrection. This is the Kingdom of God.

God’s kingdom is not a sensible thing. It doesn’t fit into our middle class values or conform to our middle class ways of doing things. We are told to be nice, conform, work hard, and save much. But, God’s kingdom is wild. It isn't nice. It doesn't conform. It requires effort to see and move into. It is a place for scrappy people. It requires us not to live by the narratives given to us by the news, by political parties, by our country, by any other living being; rather, it requires us to live inside of a story that makes no sense, one that tells us that fear and anger are the pathways to weeping and gnashing of teeth. You see, we can’t live in God’s kingdom of abundant love if we are bound by fear. We can't live in God's kingdom playing things safely - by saving and hoarding and looking after self. We have to risk everything for God's kingdom. We can’t move into the richness of God’s holy presence if we are stuck in our places of safety and comfort, in our places of hiding.

Uncertain times can be as challenging as bad ones. During times of uncertainly, it is understandable to want certainty, to live in a world of black and white. Good. Bad. Right. Wrong. It is easy to turn to the Bible to find the demarcations between these things. And, of course, the Bibles deals with them all of the time. Yet, the Bible explodes our understanding of these things, and it tells us in no uncertain terms that we are to leave behind the prejudices of our time and place in order to see the world as God does, as a place brimming with promise and potential, where the kingdom can be found in a seed, in a field, in a bowl of batter, in the stinky smell of fish. Life is not fair. It is not easy. And it may be difficult to see goodness in it - in the people who make it up. God’s kingdom is often hidden in plain sight, found just behind the monsters of our imaginings, in the common places we overlook, in the poor we try not to see, in the people with whom we disagree. We’d like the kingdom to be easily recognizable, like a cathedral or a beautifully tended garden. It’s easy to say: The Kingdom of God is like standing on mountain peak at dawn watching the sun rise and looking down upon the wonders of the earth. The Kingdom of God is like a masterpiece of art - something that makes us marvel. The Kingdom of God is the smell of bread cooking in the oven. The Kingdom of God. When people talk about experiencing heaven on earth or the Kingdom or God’s reign, images of beautiful, grand, intimate, safe, and wonderful are what we talk about. These are all, of course, glimpses into God’s Kingdom. But, God’s Kingdom is not always so apparent, so evident, so what we expect it to be. Sometimes God’s Kingdom is quite the opposite of what we expect, quite different from the normal expectations of our hearts. God’s Kingdom is as challenging and difficult as it is wonderful. This is one of the most difficult lessons for Christians to learn. God’s Kingdom belongs to God and not to us; so we need to let go of our desire to control it, to order it, or to be in charge of it. God’s kingdom is as hidden as the world’s difficulties are on display. God’s kingdom requires us to work for it, to search for it, to give up all that we think we have in order to enter into it. It is not someplace we fall into by virtue of being good, being moral, being right. It is a place we enter when we give up ourselves for the sake of the other - especially the one we revile, we despise, we hate. These things - hate, fear, superiority - they are the things that keep us out of God’s kingdom. They form the doors to God’s kingdom and they will not open as long as all we can see is them. We have to grow new eyes that see as God does. These eyes see the world as a holy and wonderful place. This world. Our world. The one with debt ceiling problems and killers and repulsive people - the world with starvation and the politics of famine. You see, the Kingdom of God is not “like” this world. The kingdom of God is this world and we are called to live in it fully, richly, and wholly. In the midst of our mess is God's Kingdom. Or, more accurately, in the midst of God's wonderful Kingdom, we keep making messes. Let's look up from them and catch on to God's vision of something beyond us and beyond our messes, and move into this new world with the complete trust that our God takes us where we ourselves could never go. Our God takes us beyond the limits of our imagination to a new world altogether. Our God lifts us from this world of despair and shows us a new world known by works of compassion and justice, in which the widow is housed and the orphan is loved. Our God is the God of Resurrection. This is the Gospel of our Lord. Thanks be to God.

Opening Prayer for Pentecost 7 A

Let us pray:

We come from near and far, O God. We come wearied and hungry. We come to sit side by side to share with one another in the Bread of Life, to drink from the Holy Cup. Do not let us go; hold fast to us. Humble us and mark us by the scars we earn in our struggles with you. May they keep us bound to the weak and lost, the last and the least. By our struggles and at your table, transform us into a new people, alive in your love and assured of your abundant grace. We pray in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

The Feast of Mary Magdalene

The painting is by He Qi and can be found at He Qi Gallery.

Today is the Feast of Mary of Magdalene, who was healed by Jesus of seven evil spirits (Lk 8:2, Mk 16:9) and who was the first person to find the empty tomb. She stood at the foot of the cross, and, in the longer ending to Mark, she is the first to see the risen Christ. She is St. Mary of Magdala, the Penitent, and July 22 is her feast day.

Early in the church, ignominious lore was spun about her that cast her as a harlot, conflating her with another woman in the Bible, the one who anointed Jesus' feet with her tears. We can thank early Fathers Bede and Gregory for helping craft this image of Mary. Frequently, Mary Magdalene is also considered to be Mary, the sister of Lazarus, also known as Mary of Bethany. It is very doubtful all of these women could have been one person. What is without question is that Mary Magdalene's devotion is apparent in sacred story and that she was a prominent person in the early Christian movement. She was known in the early Church as the "apostle to the apostles." In several extracanonical gospels, she appears as a vital member of Jesus' inner circle. Quite amazing!

The Eastern Church never conflated Mary of Magdala with Mary, Lazarus' sister or the Mary, who anointed Jesus. Thus, Mary Magdalene's reputation is not the same in the Eastern Church as in the Western Church. The Eastern tradition tells a post-Resurrection story about Mary traveling to visit Emperor Tiberius. The tale, handed down for hundreds of years, is told in numerous ways. One version depicts the two at dinner, during which she proclaims, "Christ is risen!" The emperor scoffs and says that a person could no more rise from the dead than the egg on the table turn red. It did. To this day, Easter eggs are painted a brilliant red in honor of this Resurrection miracle.

Mary has suffered a great deal in the Western tradition. The Church has tried to sideline her for being a prostitute, an adulteress, a harlot. Even so, Mary has remained a vital figure within the Church. Despite the ravages of sexism, Mary of Magdala has never been supplanted as the apostle to the apostles.

Here's to Mary, who teaches us that we may become something beyond our wildest imaginings, that those who have suffered are the first to experience Resurrection, and that even the Church cannot stand in the way of faithful witness.

The Smithsonian Magazine wrote a wonderful article about Mary Magdalene a few years ago. Learn more about the woman whose feast day is today.

Learning a Lesson, Laughing a Little, and a Sermon on God's Wild Unpredictability

I started a new appointment on July 1. July 10 was my first Sunday leading services. Everything went pretty well, but, as all first Sundays are, it was bit a rough around the edges. It's just what happens when leading a service in a space with which and with a people with whom one is not familiar. July 17 was supposed to be the polished service. You know, now that I've presided in the space, I am supposed to know how to lead those assembled through an experience that offers occasions for encountering the divine. So, I put my all into it.

I am not one of those pastors who has their sermons mapped out years or months in advance. I've gone through periods of having songs selected and themes roughly outlined for the year. Suffice to say, I'm not in that space now. Even if I wanted to be, I just started a new church and I think I need to change my prerecorded tapes in order to craft worship that is relevant for the "getting acquainted phase" with this new congregation. For the time being, we are moving in a week to week mode. Hopefully, this will change.

Despite working in a weekly mode, I worked very diligently to get all of my ducks in a row. Oh, ducks...why must you stray? On Tuesday of this week, I emailed the contents of the order of service to the office and to the folks who do the visuals during the service. On Wednesday, I met with the music people, rehearsed with them, and selected music. On Thursday, the music was sent to the office for the bulletin and to those who craft the visuals. On Saturday, when I was still struggling to find the right message, I realized that it was going to be a late night. Rather than expecting someone else to open a text file on Sunday morning and scramble to put visuals to my rather unusual sermon, I stayed up until 3 AM finding photos that would move the congregation through the sermon. Needless to say, at 7 AM when my alarm went off, I was tired...very tired - so tired, in fact, that I didn't get up. I stayed in bed until 8 AM.

The worship service at my new church begins at 10 AM. While I wasn't working with an "excess of time," I did think that I had "plenty of time" to get to church. And yet, not so. I left the house a little after 9 AM. It takes about 20 minutes to drive the distance between my house and the church. I got about half way to the church when I realized that I had left my clerical collar on my dresser. I have worn a clerical collar since 1996 and this has never happened. Never. I quickly turned around and made it about half way back to my house when reality confronted me: There was no way to make it home and to church in the amount of time left. So, I made another U-turn and headed to church. This was going to be an embarrassing but not a fatal mistake. After all, I wear a robe.

Earlier in the week, some adjustments had to be made regarding the assisting minister and the sound board. Adjustments were made. Crisis averted. But, when I walked into the sanctuary without much time to spare, there was no one to run the visuals for the service. For the first time in 3 years there had been a miscommunication. Hey, they happen. So, I pull out my flash drive and pop it in the computer (I'm so prepared, right?). I open the internet and download the file with the song lyrics. Lo and behold, neither file will open. It is now time for worship to begin. No lyrics, no prayers, no liturgy for Holy Communion. And then, grace happened.

Song books were passed out to be shared. A lay person stepped forward to pull together the communion liturgy and other necessary components. I took a deep breath, laughed, and invited the Holy Spirit to move through the assembly. You know what? It did. We worshiped. Life continued - without a collar and everything.

The funny thing about this story, at least as far as I'm concerned, is that I often tell people that I rock worship old school. Not 1950s old school. But 1550s old school. I love incense, candles, and quiet. I like singing from hymnals and reading from Bibles. I enjoy hearing stories and being pulled into the imagination of the speaker. I like quiet prayer and shared prayer. Simple worship is beautiful worship. Today, as a result of the universe's sense of humor, we got to worship a little old school.

The even funnier thing? Today's sermon was on the wild unpredictability of God. I had spent a week crafting in detail a service to introduce people to the uncontrollable nature of God. I had planned, plotted, emailed, downloaded, and printed so that nothing would go wrong while we sang, prayed, and preached about wildness, wilderness, and the holy. Today offered a great object lesson with my own need for control and correctness sitting in the midst of the service. It was humbling.

It is true that preparation is important, that we can't just "fly by the seat of our pants" and move through life. It is also true that despite our best preparations, sometimes we have to let go and live not the plan we dreamed but the reality that is before us. I find that when I can do this - let go - then there is a lot of grace in the world, a lot of joy in the midst of error and chaos, and that community will inevitably arise to the occasion.

I don't know that I'm particularly glad that today's plan was not executed well. And yet, if it weren't going to go according to my plan, this was the best divergent path I can imagine. It helped those of us getting to know one another realize that becoming acquainted is often fraught with awkward moments. It reminded us all that, in the end, worship is not about our hopes but about God encountering us in community. And, while I don't know how others experienced today's service, God certainly was present for me.

Today was one of those "lesson days." And, I thank God for the gift of humor that allowed us all to laugh a little. Moreover, I am grateful for the wildness of God that constantly interrupts our plans for the sake of something more wonderful.

"MethoMergent" and the "System" and the Body of Christ

In a back and forth last week on the interwebz, Brian McLaren and Jay Voorhees discuss the emergent movement and United Methodism.

Brian, after recently speaking at a United Methodist annual conference, encourages an enquirer wanting to know more about Methodism and the emergent movement to look to those within the denomination who are working for connection and creativity. Moreover, he encourages the enquirer to give less energy to traditional structure and politics (my interpretation, sorry for any misinterpretation). In his post, Brian lifts up Jay as one of those creative Methodists. In an online response, Jay outlines his own thoughts, which, in a nutshell, dismiss his identity as an emergent leader, primarily due to the United Methodist appointment process and the difficulties in creating something new and organic within an appointment system that lasts for one year, a system that sends pastors (more often than not) to aging congregations. Please read Jay's post. (I think Jay's incorrect about his role as an emergent leader, by the way).

I also have found it a strain to be emergent and United Methodist at the same time. I have struggled for years now to start a new monastic community along a commercialized street in Seattle - that street all of our cities have - where motels become housing for the homeless and dens for prostitution. It is my dream to take something that has been utilized for exploitation and turn it into a symbol of resurrection. We have no United Methodist presence along Aurora (the street in question), except long after you pass through the area about which I am concerned. I believe that John Wesley would be ashamed of us; I am quite sure that Jesus would be pretty upset as well. At the same time, there is community along Aurora-vibrant and alive. Shops and residents are already there making something new happen. Also, I want to give due recognition to Ben Katt and Awake Church/Aurora Commons for doing what the Methodists haven't been able to do. He has started a community that sees the joy and wonder along Aurora and is partnering with the neighborhood in really imaginative ways. The Aurora Commons is a living room for the neighborhood. What a great idea! When I first met Ben, I couldn't believe that someone else was seeing the same wonder in that overpaved, undervalued, and overexploited street. It was a welcome reminder that God plants the same dream in more than one person. God hedges bets, I think. Thank you, Ben. Thank you, God.

The United Methodist Church is engaged in important dialogue about our future in proclaiming the gospel message. In a recent presentation, Lovett Weems outlined some difficult facts for United Methodists. The average United Methodist is 57 years old. Since the inception of The United Methodist Church in 1968, data concerning property and finance have indicated increases every year until 2009 and yet data concerning people indicate losses every year since our inception. This has forced us all along the way to do more with less, and we have now reached a tipping point. This is important information. Yet, in the end, this conversation shouldn't be the core conversation that we have. I don't know a single United Methodist, especially clergy, who is unaware of the denomination's deep decline. However, decline shouldn't be the main topic of conversation. Faithfulness, joy, excitement about the gospel, clear identity as the Body of Christ - these should be the topics of conversation. I believe the leadership think they are talking about these with their wake up call, but all too often they never make it to the core conversation; we only discuss decline. While there has been a shifting tide, thinking continues to be primarily rooted in the mid-20th century, concerned with the number of annual conferences, legislative decisions, and structuring. Important? yes. Primary to the gospel? No. This is where the denomination loses the emergent conversation. It understands structure. It does not understand "attitude" or "approach."

United Methodists who long for the opportunity to participate in the emergent process will continue to struggle and be thwarted even as some of us find a way to break through the bureaucratic morass and proclaim an ancient gospel in a new and different way. Wait. That's not even accurate. The truth is that the emergent church is not particularly "new" in that one can use hymnals, chant the psalms, live in monastic community, host Easter Egg hunts, and play handbells and be deeply emergent. I think that is part of the problem with the emergent movement and mainline churches - mainline leaders don't know what it is because it isn't a "form" or "structure" or "style." It is an attitude. It is an approach. And that can't be categorized and written down.

The dream I have for Aurora is actually quite traditional. I see a white wood church with a yard and kids hunting Easter Eggs. But, I also see a reclaimed motel - one that was used for violence and oppression - and in it people are living in healthy, holistic, and faithful community rooted in presence and love. It's difficult to tell someone about this. They have to catch the dream. I thank those who "get it" and Lord, give me strength and patience to persevere when so many of your good children don't.

PNW Ordination and Commissioning Ceremony - Terrific Sermon

The Rev. Lyda Pierce asks, "Where is God in tragedy?" And, she challenges those being commissioned and ordained to "stand with" those to whom they are sent rather than trying to dive in to try and "fix" the them. You can pick up the sermon at about 14:18.

Thank you, Lyda.

Watch live streaming video from pnwumc at livestream.com

Progress on "Rhythms of Life: Sabbath" - a Video Curriculum

Yesterday, I showed the first session of my new video curriculum on Sabbath-keeping. It's a great resource for congregations that features Phyllis Tickle, Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, Amy-Jill Levine, Ched Myers, Robin Jensen, Norman Wirzba, Ellen Davis, Walter Brueggemann, Lauren Winner, Brian McLaren, Dorothy Bass, Majora Carter, Bill McKibben, and Jack Sasson. Each session is about 15-20 minutes long and comes with discussion questions and a handout with defined terms and other relevant information.

I am deeply grateful for all of the people who have appeared on this video. I am still in process of editing all of the sessions. Each presentation will be a bit different as I receive feedback and input from each focus group that sees it. I will be scheduling full viewings of the entire curriculum this August.

I want to thank Bill McKibben for sitting down with me when he was in Seattle this week. And, I also thank Yes! Magazine for allowing me some of Bill's time while he was here to speak for their event.

This is my first attempt at video making. My hope is to build a whole series of curricula on spiritual practices called "Rhythms of Life." If you are interested in partnering with me on this venture, give me a shout!

Prayer for Easter 4A

Holy are you and blessed is your name, Creator of heaven and earth. You have blessed the world with abundant life. You bring life out of death. You shepherd your wayward people and call us home. We praise and give thanks to you. As we worship this day, remind us that all we have comes from you. Instill in us a deep and honest desire to live in communion with one another and with all of your creation. And fill us with your Holy Spirit, that we might go into the world one body bound by one gospel and serving the one God. We pray in the name of Jesus the risen Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

"Of Gods and Men" Movie Review

"Of Gods and Men" is a movie loosely based on the book "The Monks of Tibhirine," which tells the true story of eight French Cistercian Trappist monks who were kidnapped in Algeria in 1996. Six of them were killed in mysterious circumstances.

Living in harmony with the surrounding Muslim community, the monks face a difficult decision whether to leave or stay when violence is brought to their region by a fundamentalist group.

"Of Gods and Men" is a poignant tale about the power of faith, its limits, humanity, power, violence, and corruption told primarily through the images and sounds of liturgy and rhythm. As the story moves through these rhythms of monastic and communal life, violence comes closer and closer to the brothers and their village. Throughout Algeria, gruesome acts of violence spread, including beheadings and massacres. Stories of violence elsewhere are made real when the terrorists show up at the monastery door seeking help for their wounded. Once the guns cross the threshold of the monastery, violence never truly leaves. Life shared in harmony with neighbors and in community is disrupted by both the military, which seeks to maintain its power, and the terrorists, which seek to gain power. Life shared with neighbors begins to be overtaken by conversation about violence, by acts of violence on family members, and by intimidation of villagers in the monastery's medical clinic. Within the monastic community, peace and harmony are disrupted as well. In deciding whether to leave the village to fend for itself or whether to stay and risk death, each brother embarks upon a journey of self discovery about the role of faith, sacrifice, commitment, peace, and love. A community built upon an ethic of peace must decide whether peace might entail a violent end for the brothers' own lives.

A complicated political backdrop of colonization and Muslim-Christian relationships frame the movie, but it moves quickly from the political to the human, which is what gives this movie its emotional and spiritual power. It is not concerned with making a political point; it is concerned with plumbing the depths of humanity.

How strong is faith? What does it mean to be a neighbor? When is suffering efficacious? Necessary? What does it mean to be human? What is peace? And, how far should one go to bear compassion in the world?

These are the questions this film poses. These are important questions for all of us to ask.

A slow and deliberate film, "Of Gods and Men" is the most faithful representation of contemplative life and what I would call "real faith" that I have seen on the big screen. Whether it's the faith of the villagers or of the brothers, the film shows the power of faith to hold communities together and how the depths of faith can terrify. I highly recommend this movie. It is beautiful and tragic and deeply moving. From the muezzins at the mosque to the chanting and singing of the monks, the sounds of this movie will stay with you.

Prayer for the Third Sunday in Easter - Year A

Blessed Christ, like those on the road to Emmaus, we often do not recognize you in the journey of our lives. Open our eyes to you embodied before us. Help us to taste you in the bread we eat and in the cup from which we drink. As we walk through this world, assure us that you meet us in unexpected places, listening to our stories and offering us bread for nourishment. Open to us your wisdom, as you did to our ancestors long ago, that we might be a people of peace and grace, an example of your Resurrection in a hurting and wounded world. We pray in your holy name, Blessed Jesus. Amen.

Passionate about a Project: Living Sabbath

For the past few years, I have been obsessed with the idea of Sabbath. It is a foreign concept to most Christians, although it shouldn't be. In Luke, in Jesus' first public act, he takes a scroll from Isaiah and proclaims the "Year of the Lord," otherwise known as the "Jubilee" or the "Sabbath Year." Christians are missing a great deal of our religious underpinnings by not knowing more of the principles of Sabbath and by not practicing Sabbath-keeping as a core part of our religious observance. And so, I began to search far and wide for resources that would introduce my congregation to Sabbath as well as to other spiritual practices that tie liturgy with life in the larger world - resources that would initiate people into rhythms of life that embody what following Christ really means in the everyday world. What did I find? Not much.

There have been inroads made in recent years, primarily through the new monastic movement and its leaders/communities, by Paraclete Press, and by a few very cool folks and organizations (Sojourners, etc) to drag the Christian narrative back to life in ways that challenge economics, our ideas of neighborliness, and our commitment to peace. I am very grateful for these offerings. Yet, I believed that I had a dream for something that wasn't being done. Why, I finally wondered, was I waiting for someone else to do it? Thus began my journey.

This has led to a two point ministry obsession: Create a Christian community based on the principle of Sabbath and create actual space that lives out the Sabbath principle.

What is this?

Sabbath, contrary to most Christians' understanding, is not a day off from work that Jews take each week (although observant Jews don't work on Sabbath). Sabbath is a measure of justice in the Bible that is known through a weekly observance of the cessation of work, observances of rest for the land, and periodic return of hereditary land and forgiveness of debts. It is a holistic approach to community building that holds at its core the centrality of God's generative and redeeming power. Sabbath is the most frequently invoked idea in the Old Testament, and as I said above, it is the central ethic in the witness and ministry of Jesus Christ. In the two renditions of the Ten Commandments, there are two different but complementary reasons for keeping Sabbath: 1) Rest on the seventh day because God rested from creating on that day, and 2) Rest on the seventh day to remember that God brought you out of the land of Egypt (that is, remember that you are no longer a slave and your lives should be lived in freedom not enslaved to labor or any other false idol). At its most basic, the weekly observance of Sabbath has two commandments - be joyful and don't work. Sabbath years enhance and intensify to weekly Sabbath.

A community that holds these ideals before them would be a powerful and alternative witness in our world. Of course, these are core values within the Jewish tradition, but they would look and feel different within a Christian community. Traditional monastic communities highly value these principles. And, emerging from new monastic communities are fresh ways of approaching Sabbath. However, I found that before I could invite people into community based on Sabbath, I had to educate them.

I began what has been a year and a half project to create a video curriculum to introduce people to Sabbath-keeping. It has been a rich time filled with wonderful conversations with Dorothy Bass, Amy-Jill Levine, Brian McLaren, Jack Sasson, Walter Brueggemann, Ellen Davis, Norman Wirzba, Majora Carter, Ched Myers, Phyllis Tickle, Douglas Meeks, Lauren Winner, and I have two upcoming interviews with Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and Bill McKibben (if timing can be worked out). It is a seven part series with videos about 20 minutes each. I will begin focus groups in July. Currently, this series is attached to my dissertation, but I hope to find a distributer so that people in congregations can have access to these fantastic people and what they say about Sabbath. If you are in the greater Seattle area and would like to be part of the focus groups, please let me know.

The second part of this project is to take a motel along Seattle's Aurora Avenue, an area known for prostitution and drug trafficking, and turn it from a place of exploitation to a place of Resurrection and Sabbath. I dream of having one of the many abandoned lots along Aurora turned into an organic garden and bird sanctuary. This is putting flesh on the Sabbath principle. Sabbath is not an idea; it is a lived reality in which no one has too much and no one has too little. It is known communally by care for one another. It is the reality of living in God's presence.

If you know a commercial realtor, an artist, a gardener, a person gifted in prayer, an architect, a construction worker or carpenter, or people who might be interested in this, please let me know. I am trying to pull together a group of people who can transform this obsession turned dream into reality right along Aurora and in the abandoned places of cities near Seattle.

Journey into the Heart of God...One Breath at a Time

With every breath we have a choice. With every breath I have a choice. Breathe in. Breathe out. With each breath something enters and something leaves. It is part of my life quest to learn to breathe in God's breath and to expel everything else. Since all of creation is born of God and since God loves, embraces, and infuses all of creation, one might think breathing God would not be a difficult thing to do. What a silly assumption that would be.

In the first steps of faithful living we invite God into our lives. We seek to put God at the center of our lives. But a deeper faith challenges us to live in God, for us to move more deeply into God. This is a never-ending journey. We can always move further into God. In a deeply faithful life, there are no such things as laurels upon which to rest or pride on which to rely or even a separate self to preserve. The mystic, the contemplative, the lover of God learns how to die to self in order to fully become self, to be emptied in order to be filled, to die in order to be raised. This is the paradox of faith. Such a life requires measured, meaningful, thoughtful, and intentional breath. In it, there is no room for anything other than God because there is nothing other than God - at least nothing real. God is the ultimate reality.

To live in such a way demands that we relinquish certain holds the world has on us. Yet, I admit that many of those holds are hard to break. They are like lint that won't shake off, like that piece of toilet paper trailing from the bottom of the shoe, like a piece of spinach that just won't dislodge from between those two teeth! From our early years, we are taught that the strong survive and thrive, that competition bears the best fruit, that comfort, money, and success (to one degree or another) are the standards of a life well lived. That, of course, doesn't mean that all of us strive to be millionaires or that we are all driven by unchecked greed or that we don't love neighbor. But, for the person who seeks to move ever more deeply into the heart of God, even the weakest forms of these self-seeking tendencies need to be faced and relinquished. That is my struggle. Sometimes I would prefer to play a video game than quiet my heart and sit in communion with God. I sometimes prefer to be distracted by a movie than experience silence. Sometimes I just don't want to breathe in God. I'd rather not think about my breathing at all. Sometimes.

The hardest part of seeking to live inside of God's own heart - at least for me - is to love as God loves. Wastefully. Fully. When I feel that I've failed, it's when I've not been able to fully love. Judgment, anger, impatience. These three form the triumvirate challenge of my spiritual life. Impatience and judgment run a close race for leader of the pack. When I leave work thinking badly about the day, usually I know that I did not fully surrender to God - that I did not listen deeply enough because I was distracted, that I did not spend enough time with someone because I was impatient, that I did not allow a process to emerge in its own way because I was so certain of how it should be. When these things happen, I have been an obstacle to God rather than God's faithful servant. And, I am reminded how important that silence I resist really is and how important breathing in God's breath really is. When the day ends in joy, I can look back and name the moments when God used me - this broken vessel - in a way that helped another person. There was real humanity in that day, whether in tears or laughter or honest sharing. That's a holy and wonderful day.

We live in a world of pain, hurt, fear, despair, war, environmental crisis, violence, and isolation. We live busy lives that are full of appointments, children, pets, houses, gardens, friends, work, sports, events, volunteerism, passions, and laughter. All around us and from within us there are voices competing to express themselves and to be heard. But, for us to be attentive to them - really attentive - we must also take breaks from them so that we might move further into God. Otherwise, the world and its cacophony threaten to overwhelm us.

Tonight when I breathe in, I choose to breathe in God's holy breath, the breath which Jesus breathed into his disciples when he said, "Peace be with you." I choose to breathe out that room I didn't get cleaned, the tasks I didn't complete, and the impatience that pulls me out of the 'now'. Tonight when I breathe in, I pray "Christ have mercy." I breathe out everything else.

Saint Catherine of Siena said, "We must live in simplicity, with neither pretensions nor mannerism nor servile fear. We must walk in the light of a living faith that shines in more than mere words- and always so, in adversity as well as in prosperity, in times of persecution as well as in times of consolation" (Letter to Blessed Raymond of Capua).

She also said,

"Eternal Trinity, you are a deep ocean, in which the more I seek, the more I find; and the more I find, the more I seek. You satisfy my soul, yet leave it hungry, for in your depths my satisfied soul desires you still more and yearns to see you, the Light, in your own light.

I tasted and in my mind's eye, with the aid of your light, I saw the abyss of yourself, eternal Trinity, and the beauty of your creation. Therefore, clothing myself in you, I saw myself as your image, filled with your power, Eternal Father, and with the wisdom which is your Son, Your Holy Spirit gave me a will that I might love" (Dialogue on Divine Providence).

Thank you, St. Catherine, for your prayer. I'll just breathe it in, too!

World Malaria Day - Imagine No Malaria - My History with Mosquito Borne Illness

I grew up in a town that had been ravaged by yellow fever in the boom of industrialization after the Civil War. In 1878, yellow fever swept in to the United States from Cuba via New Orleans, LA and began to crawl up the Lower Mississippi River Valley decimating towns. Ships were fumigated, areas were quarantined, people were subjected to bloodletting and they were given quinine and carbolic acid, but nothing stopped the spread of yellow fever or its deadly effects. By July, the disease had found its way to Memphis, TN; over half of the population, an estimated 20,000-27,000 people out of a total of 47,000, fled the city to rural areas to escape the epidemic. The cost to Memphis bankrupted the city. Just south of it, in Holly Springs, MS, where I grew up, the effects were just as severe. Resting at an altitude of 720 feet above sea level, the town thought itself safe from the epidemic. The common wisdom at the time indicated that yellow fever could not exist above 500 feet above sea level. The town welcomed people fleeing from Memphis as well as from other small towns. The courthouse was turned into a hospital. Despite their optimism, though, Holly Springs would fall victim along with the rest of the region. By the end of the year, 1440 people contracted it and 304 died of it. Across, the region, yellow fever struck over 120,000 people with over 5,000 dying from it.

Yellow fever was attributed to poor hygiene and sanitation. It wasn't until two years after the epidemic that a Cuban physician indicted mosquitos in the disease's cause and spread and it took another 22 years before Walter Reed would finally prove that mosquitos were the source of the disease.

As a child, I used to give people tours of the Yellow Fever House in Holly Springs. I remember thinking how long ago 1878 seemed, how distant those deaths, how such things couldn't happen today. I remember that I couldn't imagine living in that place where mosquitos had been able to spread disease without restraint.

Now, I can. I have been in places ravaged by malaria. I have seen children and adults tired, red-eyed, feverish, and sick because of a mosquito bite. I have spoken with parents whose children have died and children whose parents have died all because of mosquitos. Unlike the Lower Mississippi River Valley in the 1800's, however, we know that mosquitos carry malaria. We know that a simple treated bed net will save a life. We have medicines that can treat infected people and prevent infection in others. When I have traveled to regions with malaria, I have been privileged enough to be able to take a net along with me and take prophylactic medication. Yet, there is no reason that I should have such easy access to these if people living in the areas affected do not.

Today is World Malaria Day. I do not live in Congo, but I did live in Holly Springs. I grew up knowing that ignorance allowed mosquitos to spread disease and kill thousands upon thousands of people. Today we are not ignorant of the causes or treatments of malaria. And yet, every 45 seconds a child dies of malaria somewhere in Africa. There is no excuse not to eradicate malaria in our life time. I implore you to take the $20 that you would spend at lunch and send a net, save a life. Stop malaria today.

"Engaging in Ministry with the Poor" - What's wrong with this?

Today The United Methodist Church hosted a Leadership Summit about membership decline within our denomination and what we might do to address this disheartening trend. I'm not going to write about most of what was discussed. Rather, I want to hone in on one thing that serves, in my opinion, as an example of how the church still doesn't get it. And, if it did finally "get it," how much easier it would be for us to do what here to do (more on that later).

Time and again, in literature produced by the denomination and in presentations, the following phrase and phrases like it saturate our discourse: "The United Methodist Church is engaged in ministries with the poor." You may respond, "Well, of course we are engaged in ministries with the poor. Jesus ministered to and with the poor and so should we." Let me cut you off right there. I have no objection to the church's involvement in the lives people who are poor, in advocating policies and laws that help people who are poor, or in denouncing policies or laws that oppress and marginalize the poor. The problem with this statement isn't about its concern for poor people; the problem is in the sentence's syntax.

"Engaging in ministries with _____" is an institutionally crafted phrase that reveals, by its own construction, our spiritual and physical distance from people who are poor. Why do we say that we "engage in ministries with" rather than the more simple "minister with"...and does it matter? Obviously, I think it does matter. It grammatically reveals what our actions actually do - we distance ourselves from our core mission. And, rather than face up to this distance, we obfuscate it through the use of charts, mission statements, visioning, restructuring, conferencing, consulting, and recreating the same bureaucracy over and over. We are afraid of our core mission and so we latch on to peripheral processes and issues that *appear* to be *related* to our mission, and we concentrate on these. I mean, let's face it, Jesus never "engaged in ministries." He "engaged with" people.

For the past several years, The United Methodist Church has been sounding the alarm on our decline. Like all other mainline denominations, our membership and attendance have been in a steady decline that increases in momentum with each passing year. In order to "combat" this decline, the denomination has spent millions of dollars on advertising, hired numerous consultants, and has begun the difficult conversation of downsizing at the conference level as well as with the general boards and agencies. In and of themselves, these are not bad things. However, they do miss the mark in hitting the target. They are, to use the words of Ronald Heifetz, technical fixes to adaptive challenges. And, they will never produce appreciative change for or within our denomination. Nor should they. Their goal should not be to "save us" but to heal the world.

In their books "Leadership on the Line" and "The Practice of Adaptive Leadership," Heifetz, along with Marty Linsky and Alexander Grashow, take on institutions like The United Methodist Church that profess a desire for change but that do not change - at least not in a desirable way. It boils down to this, companies and institutions profess a desire to change so that they can make more money, run more efficiently, be a friendlier work space, expand their mission field, transform their working environments, and so forth. Yet, nothing really changes despite hiring consultants and going through all kinds of change leadership work. Why don't these organizations change? Well, to change they would have to...be different. It sounds simple, but the reality is that people and the organizations which they inhabit do not like change - and so, in the face of inertia and resistance, people and their organizations spend their resources in technical fixes for things that really are adaptive challenges.

Leadership begins...with the diagnostic work of separating a problem's technical elements from its adaptive elements...Adaptive challenges are typically grounded in the complexity of values, beliefs, and loyalties rather than technical complexity and stir up intense emotions rather than dispassionate analysis. For these reasons, organizations often avoid addressing the value-laden aspects and try to get through the issue with a technical fix...One way you know that there is an adaptive challenge facing your organization or community is that the problem persists even after a series of attempted technical fixes (The Practice of Adaptive Leadership, 70).

The United Methodist Church would rather "engage in ministries with" than the more pure "minister with" because to simply "minister with" would require a deep change within our church. It is much safer to tinker around the edges. Otherwise, we would have to transfer our gaze from agencies and boards to neighborhoods. We would spend less time on conference legislation (who cares??) and more time out in the world. We would bicker less about social issues, and we would treat one another with love and respect. We would have to do what Jesus did in this past week's lectionary gospel lesson (John 9:1-41) and get messy in the world. We would be touching the wounds of the world with compassion and without care for our own survival and well being. We would be in jails, prisons, on the streets, under bridges, with prostitutes, in the bars, and in hospices. We would be in small groups with one another facing our questions of faith, praying with and for one another, learning the stories of our faith. We would take our baptism seriously and recognize the responsibility it places upon us for our life in the world. We would feast at God's holy and abundant table...and we would want to do it as often as we can. We would do so many things that have nothing to do with board meetings, trustees, restructuring task force, conference board of _____, connectional _____, or anything that removes us from the hurting and holy places of this world.

One problem with The United Methodist Church is in our mission statement to "make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world." We don't know how to "make" "disciples." And, I am not sure that I am interested in "making" them. I want to be one. I want to teach others about Jesus and invite them into discipleship. I want to live a Christ-like life. But, even if we changed this wording (a technical fix), the adaptive challenge would not be addressed. We have become middle class, respectable, and afraid as a people. If we want to be *faithful* in the world, then we would give up a bit of our respectability for communion with the poor and stop trying to "engage in ministries." We would live the passion of our Christ, who was anything but respectable and who was all about ministering with the poor.

Lent 4A -Easier Not to See

As I prepare for this week's sermon on John 9:1-41,

I think about the blindness in our society.

We cut off

disability benefits,

collective bargaining rights,

unemployment benefits,

protection for our environment.

And, yet we still fight two wars

and one "non-war."

We consume.

We use.

We burn.

We blow up.

We divide.

We bicker.

We hate.

We do not see.

We do not see.

We do not see.

One thing is clear to me in John's gospel story.

We cannot be sent into the world

if we cannot see it.

We cannot heal it

if we do not love it.

We cannot.

We must first see.

Our eyes are closed,

though.

There is too much to see

sometimes.

To see

is to love.

To love

is to act.

To act in love

is to heal

and not kill.

I wonder if we are ready

to wash in the Pool

of Sent.

But I pray to God

to rub our eyes with holy mud,

made from earth

and holy spit,

and to open our eyes

to new sights

that cannot

be unseen.

This is the Gospel of Our Lord:

To see.

Lent Theme: Unclutter ______

A "Season of Sabbath" is what I unwisely decided to name our theme for Lent at the church I serve. While it gets to the point that I want to make, the word "Sabbath" isn't a compelling word for a lot of people. Moreover, people aren't going to cease from their labor for a whole season.

A few weeks ago, I was visiting a friend's house and saw a television commercial (I don't have broadcast TV, so I see very few commercials) from publicstorage.com. It is called "Accumulator." This ad made me gasp (you may watch it after the jump).

I know that the idea of uncluttering our lives is not a new one for Lent, but I have always found the thought of uncluttering *my* life to be a rather individualistic approach to the season. It's also pretty person-centered and not particularly God-centered. Sabbath, on the other, hand is really about God. God ceased from labor, and so do we. God rejoiced in creation, and so do we. God delivered us from slavery, and so we care about the labor of others. Sabbath begins with God; we are invited into God's rest, God's joy, God's justice. And, we are invited all together. Not individually. What does this have to do with accumulation, you might wonder. Well, at the heart of the Sabbath ethic is the idea that we take only what we need and leave the rest for others. In Exodus, before the people have been given the Law by Moses, they are told to gather manna. They are instructed only to take enough for one day and to take only enough for their household. On the sixth day, they may gather enough for two days and no more, that they may rest from their labor as God rested on the seventh day. This manna rule - this story about accumulation - is about clutter and rapaciousness. It is also about fear.

We often gather things into our lives out of fear. Fear drives us to look upon other people as wholly different from ourselves, and their "otherness" allows us to treat them as we could never bear to be treated. Fear tells us to hoard - food, clothes, things that need casting away. Fear compels us to upgrade, upsize, and get the next big thing. Fear whispers to us that there may not be enough food, so eat! Fear tells us that others want what we want, so build fences, install alarms, and post cameras. Fear can be found at the root of much of American anxiety. And, it is at work in our emotional lives as much as it is at work in our physical lives.

Because of fear, we hold on to wounds, grudges, and prejudice. This emotional clutter drives us to a kind of emotional or spiritual rapaciousness. People can need love so much that they put themselves in physical danger. People may repeat hurtful relationship patterns that they have lived through in their past. People may be afraid to seek or extend forgiveness. Both of these are very dangerous. To know we need forgiveness without the humility to seek it robs a person of healing and continues the original misdeed into the future. To be unable to forgive keeps both the offending party and the offended party held hostage to a past that cannot be changed. And, it sends them both into the future to carry that wound forward into the lives of others.

Fear drives people to greed and to unchecked accumulation. If there is one thing that Americans need to learn to do, it is to let go of accumulation as a cultural value. To do this, we, as a whole culture, must begin to examine our fears and to challenge them.

Sabbath does just this. It provides a wholly different approach to the world that trusts in abundance and in God's guiding presence. Sabbath makes no room for fear; it is too busy making room for the "other" - for the stranger, for the neighbor, and for all of creation to thrive. Lent is a season that invites the Christian to examine all that obstructs us from God's presence. What fears hold us captive? What fasts do we need to take on in order to enter into God's kin-dome (Isaiah 58)? What spiritual practices will bring us near to God? What habits need cultivating that will foster our authentic selves and dispel our false selves? What priorities do we need to establish in order to see the stranger as our neighbor and to treat our neighbor as ourselves? These are deep questions of faith. They do not ask us to find new ways to store the accumulation in our lives. They challenge us to pare down that which does not serve God.

God has gifted us with life, but it is our holy and sacred challenge to sort out how to live it. Lent is a time of justification. But it is not a time for navel gazing. Lent, as a time of preparation for the convert or repentance for the Christian, challenges us to re-center ourselves in God's glory, that we may be born from heave and raised with Christ come Easter morn. These phrases may mean little in our secular world, but they simply mean that through the process of re-centering, re-focusing, uncluttering, and prioritizing, we can let go of the vices of this world in order to be born into God's vision for this world. This rebirth gives us God's eyes with which to view creation and God's heart for all of creation. And, by this rebirth, we are raised to new life as Jesus. The powers and principalities of this world - the powers of sin and death - cannot hold us prisoner any longer because we live in a world ruled not by scarcity, not by sin, not by death, but by abundance, right relationship, and life. This is to what you are invited. And, we don't get there by accumulation. We get there by trust and through service. A new way of living altogether.

Ashes, Lent, and a Changed Life

Look around. Our world is messed up. I don't care where you live, how rich you are, or how educated you are, you have been touched by this messed up world. Lost jobs. Government that is (at best) ineffectual and (at worst) corrupt. Revolutions. Melting ice caps. Insurance premiums. Children shooting children. Religious people wielding religion to heap violence on others. It's a messed up world. Filled with violence, despair, and greed - rapacious greed. Ash Wednesday couldn't come soon enough for me this year.

Lent is the most holy time of penitence on the Christian calendar. Traditionally, it is a time for potential converts to assess the true desire of their hearts and their willingness to live the Way of the Cross. Historically, it has also been a time for those within the Church who have strayed from this Way to repent, to humble themselves, and to seek forgiveness. Every year I can get a little (as my mother used to say) "too big for my 'britches.'" And so, this season gives me a chance to remember my place in the world. Neither better nor worse than any other person. A sinner. A blessed child of God. A human being yearning for something more, something better, something whole.

For the past week, I've felt especially melancholy. I've not felt competent at my job. I've felt frustrated with unfulfilled ambition. I've been angry at myself for not completing important goals that I've set for myself. Today, I woke up a different person, ready to have ashes imposed on my head, reminded that I have been gifted this one life to live in God's presence, for the sake of God's work, and nurtured by God's Gospel. I woke up ready to give up the ongoing struggle with my humanity and to embrace it as a pathway to wholeness.

I woke up ready to be changed. That's what ashes do. They remind us to be humble. They call us to mourn for lost opportunities, for wasted choices, for lives lived less fully than they could be lived. These burnt palm leaves remind me that we - all of us - are part of God's beautiful world, completely insignificant to it and vitally needed for it - both at the same time. When the ashes touch my head and I hear God's voice say, "From dust you come and to dust you shall return," I know that I am part of a salvific history that began long before I was born and that will exist long after I'm gone. I have one life. This life. My choices are important in this life. I cannot go back and change my life. How I decide to live each moment has an infinite number of consequences. And, yet, I am but dust. It is a wonderful paradox. A paradox of which I need reminding in the most tactile way - with ashes on my head.

We live messed up lives in a messed up world. If that were the beginning, middle, and end of the story, we would be hard pressed to want to be here at all. We also live these messed up lives in the presence of a healing, transforming, saving, earth-shattering God. A parent who welcomes us home after transgressions. A friend who accompanies us on foolhardy paths. A teacher who instructs us to live better. A critic unashamed to tell us to do better. A breath that infuses our lungs. A poem that inspires our hearts. A lion that protects her cubs. A fountain that overflows with living water. A tree that grows fruit for the body and leaves for the healing of the nations. A word that comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. This is our God. This is our Gospel. It is with us in the "mess-upness" of our lives.

When the ashes touch our foreheads today, we look at all of the "messed-upness" of our world and in our lives. We look it squarely in the face. We take responsibility for broken relationships. We acknowledge the errors that we have made. We do not flinch. We can take it because we are empowered by our God. And then we enter Lent. We wander in the wilderness as did Jesus - as did the Israelites. During our 40 days, we may cry for how things were. We may not trust that God is creating change in our lives. We may want what we do not have and hoard what we do have. But God is at work. God is pulling us out of slavery and is preparing us for freedom. God is using this wilderness to disorient and then reorient us. God is challenging our understanding of unholy work - work done for Empire, for greed. Work done without restraint or constraint. Work that harms us and other. And God is preparing us for another kind of work. Holy work. Work that begins by stopping (Read Exodus). Work that uplifts the whole community. Work that recognizes limits. Work that never seduces us into believe that we are gods. Holy work transforms community. It makes space for the widow and the orphan. It welcomes the stranger. It leaves time for family, play, and worship.

I am so happy to have arrived at Ash Wednesday. I am not a unit of labor. I am not an awful person. I am not a god. I am not bad. I am not good. I am a human being of infinite worth among 6 billion other humans all of infinite worth. That's a lot of infinite. That's a lot of worth. Thanks be to God.