Time passes quickly, and our opportunities to gather seem so few. I do not want the learnings from Nuevo Amanecer to fade, so I will share via this 'blog some learnings, thoughts, and perceptions. At Concilio and other settings we shall make time to chew on bite-sized pieces as they strike us as helpful. A Spanish translation will be forthcoming soon after I publish each English text.
As I have said in other settings, the warmth and the power of the gathering, the sense that here there is something powerful and central happening, a new and different kind of Episcopal Christianity arising, was my overall sensation. In the Reign of God, the edges become the center, the last become the first. Frankly I feel that the Spirit of God has left church settings that remain monocultural by choice or by habit, and the power and passion of Nuevo Amanecer demonstrates to me where Spirit is moving. As I have shared in other settings, of late I feel that scales have fallen from my eyes, and I have come to think of The Episcopal Church as an ethnic white denomination being given the opportunity to become a body more reflective of the larger world, a world in which Spirit is making profound changes and breaking down barriers.
Rev. Suarez addressed core issues of this process in his keynote talk.
I sat and scribbled madly what I heard, which was presented purely in Spanish. If NA publishes an official translation I shall make this available as well.
Suarez spoke of the process of "inculturation", the process by which a people preserves their identity and culture and even language, and contrasted inculturation to other less positive processes such as "assimilation." "Assimilation" is more what happened to my Irish and Native American ancestors, and perhaps to yours as well: language lost (for my Irish ancestors that process began back in Ireland with the English imperialists imposing their tongue and punishing the use or the teaching of Irish Gaelic), culture lost to a significant if not complete extent (in my Tlingit grandmother's case, lost nearly completely). The churches btw in many if not most cases colluded completely in this process. In the case of the Indian boarding schools in this country churches colluded utterly, literally "beating the Indian" out of the children taken from their nations ("Kill the Indian, save the man" was the motto of the founder of my grandmother's school). In the case of the Irish, although the Roman church preserved a few distinct devotions and a sense of Irishness in that the Roman Catholic Church was clung to as opposed to the conqueror's exported Anglicanism, parochial schools worked hard at eliminating Irish accents and habits and tried to form a kind of generic "American identity" in order for the children to succeed financially in a white Protestant-dominant nation. Awareness of difference remained however--my mother taught me what WASP meant when I was still in grade school.
The above are my reflections, and BTW these are my personal reasons why our journey matters to me.
Inculturation values the distinct gifts and flavor, as it were, of any given people, and invites them to be part of a greater whole. We are all enriched and changed as a result.
This BTW is why I asked not long ago via FB "what do we (white dominant culture Episcopalians) bring to the table as part of our culture?" Those responses were very slow in coming forth, I think in part because we do not often think of ourselves as possessing a distinct culture or cultures. If we think of it at all, we assume that we ARE "the culture", and do not look on ourselves with an eye to naming what is distinct about us. As white-ethnic peoples continue demographically to become a minority in this nation (by 2050 fully 1/3 of all people in the USA are predicted to be of Latino descent given present trends), it behooves us to do so.
Fleshing out this conversation, Suarez spoke of...
5 Values of Latino culture
1) Family: loyalty and interdependence
2) Personalism: the personal quality of each interaction
3) Respect: proper regard for figures of authority
4) Machismo: masculinity and virility, understanding that the man is the provider, responsible for the well-being and honor of the family
5) Marianism: the values of the Blessed Virgin, that women are spiritual over other people and that Mary is spiritual above all others, that Mary is especially able to help those who are poor and suffering and that women in general are given this gift and charge as well
The above was presented not as "good or bad." It is easy to see that several of the values above have distinct shadow-sides or destructive aspects, particularly the culture of machismo. Culture just is.
By contrast, Suarez named these as five features of dominant American culture:
1) Individualism, emphasizing competition over cooperation
2) Equality: that all have the same rights or should
3) Time, as in organizing its use and keeping to time, for after all "time is money"
4) Directness and assertiveness
5) Materialism and consumerism
Again, culture--not necessarily good or bad. Culture just is.
My notes got somewhat broken at this point, partly because what Suarez said led me down path after path of my own, partly because I kept discovering the limitations of my Spanish especially when presented by an erudite native speaker! I was also stubborn about refusing the translation earphones.
But Suarez spoke of the challenge of transcultural assumptions--distrust and prejudice, of cultural values clashing and competing for dominance, and my addition is that cultural values under stress and pressure can manifest in destructive ways.
Suarez proposed "Cultural Competency" as a value to be striven for, a necessary feature of contemporary communities (a necessary feature for us at SPP I may add, and in this Diocese). Cultural competency presumes awareness, sensitivity, and eventual competence. Cultural competence means toleration at the most basic level, acceptance, and finally celebration of distinctiveness and the gifts that each bring to the community.
The risks of this process include:
1) Inadequate inculturation (there is a "loser" on some level)
2) Negative cultural values go into ascendency
3) The new culture/community assumes and remains in a lower socio-economic level
4) Prejudice and discrimination
5) Migrant status (one is always a stranger, and retains "stranger habits" for generations
As I recall, Suarez used a kind of "Johari Window" chart of various models of inculturation, ranging from loss of one's home culture and assumption of the new, loss of one's own culture and no assumption or participation in the new (this result is a complete kind of tragic alienation), retention of one's home culture but little if any participation or assumption of the new culture, or inculturation, retention of and celebration of one's home culture and full participation/competence in the new culture, bringing one's home culture as a gift.
Suarez spoke of five strengths of Latino peoples...
1) A strong religious sense and strong sense of family connection
2) High valuing of children
3) High value of literacy, especially in ensuring the education of the children
4) Economic opportunities for Latino people are increasing
5) Most Latinos look on the USA as an opportunity to work and to improve their lives
And Suarez spoke of these qualities of what he called "Leaders in Process":
1) The "Prime Directive", adopting a position of sensitivity
2) To have a genuine curiosity about one another
3) Contrasting the glass half-empty/glass half-full (a real good one in many ways for us at SPP!)What do we have here already, in terms of connections and contributions, local leaders. In all cases, the answer to the question is PEOPLE.
In any case, our tasks as a becoming-church culturally are...
1) To nurture a genuinely curious stance toward culture (including our own I may add)
2) To understand diversity and to negotiate language barriers
3) To have understanding and sensitivity, and to make room in all conversations regarding assumptions of culture and identity
4) And above all, to celebrate! Celebrate difference, and to celebrate the process!
Incredible amount of substance for us, and incredible amount of resonance with our experience even thus far.
archived musings and preachments
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Sunday, September 14, 2014
One cross
Holy Cross 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC_RCL/HolyDays/HolyCros_RCL.html
What does the cross of Christ mean?
A story from years ago that disquieted religious folk was of the patient in the Catholic hospital who asked the nurse to take down the crucifix that faced him on the wall at the foot of his bed, a familiar sight to this day in hospitals like Providence. “I am in pain” said the man. “What possible good does it do me to be forced to look at the image of a suffering man?”
I appreciate this man because he was seeing the cross clearly and was impacted by what is depicted. For him the image of Christ crucified was not just part of the background of a religious institution, whether hospital or church.
Today, the feast of the Holy Cross, the cross is not just part of the background. Even if the cross has become an ignored accessory, or a rejected image by those appalled by the pain depicted, the cross is still inescapable.
Wherever pain and division and violence and loss are found, there we find the cross.
In the past 20 years roadside shrines at the sites of accidental death or even murder have become common in the USA. Often a cross is part of the shrine. “Yes this” says the cross, yes, tragic and hideous loss. “Yes this, but also this.” A dialogue of realities—loss and pain, yet a stubborn and irrational hope at one and the same time. The bridge between loss and hope is the cross.
This + is a crucifix given to me by a charming Filipina nun as I entered the novitiate of my old religious Order. We were twice besieged by government-sponsored paramilitary in the village where we lived for a year. I was sitting meditating and looking at this cross one night when a burst of automatic rifle fire went off only yards away from our residence. I still feel the fear of that as I tell the story and hold this crucifix. “Yes this, but also this.”
The cross, the crucified yet risen Christ, is found at the center of all our suffering and the suffering of the world. The cross is found particularly at the nexus of suffering and pain dealt out by the oppressive powers of the world, dealt out to the poor and the pushed aside. The cross is emptied of its power if we forget that on the cross is stretched out a man executed by the powerful, executed because he was a threat to organized political and military and yes, religious power. The cross faces us with the reality that to this day people, whole peoples, are still beaten up and ordered around and imprisoned and pushed aside and even executed by the powerful and the threatened. The cross is both uncomfortable truth and proclamation of the overthrow of the powerful and the abusive, of God’s stand with the poor. “Yes this, but also this.”
We here live the cross in a particular way. Last week Padre Maldonado spoke with me about our project to make one community from two very different peoples, different cultures and language groups. One of those groups experience discrimination and exclusion on a daily basis. He said in admiration “You’ve really bet the farm!”
Well, we have. But we’ve done that because Jesus of Nazareth bet the farm, bet with his life. He bet that God would be victorious in the face of the worst that the Roman Empire and the Temple elite could do. He bet that death would not have the last word.
We here bet that, in the midst of challenges and difference, in the face of the deep divisions between people and languages and cultures, that we find the cross of Christ. “I shall draw all people to myself.” “Yes this, but also this”: a people healed and made one, an improbable community that practices justice and equality before God.
Anyone here have dandelions in their yards? Each year when I harvest the dandelions one more time, I speculate again that they are not individual plants, but all part of one whole. In the same way, the cross on our foreheads through Baptism is not our personal cross. It is one cross, one plant, blossoming in different places and different lives, drawing all, plunging to the depth of human division and human pain, embracing all and yet making hope.
“Yes this, but also this.”
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC_RCL/HolyDays/HolyCros_RCL.html
What does the cross of Christ mean?
A story from years ago that disquieted religious folk was of the patient in the Catholic hospital who asked the nurse to take down the crucifix that faced him on the wall at the foot of his bed, a familiar sight to this day in hospitals like Providence. “I am in pain” said the man. “What possible good does it do me to be forced to look at the image of a suffering man?”
I appreciate this man because he was seeing the cross clearly and was impacted by what is depicted. For him the image of Christ crucified was not just part of the background of a religious institution, whether hospital or church.
Today, the feast of the Holy Cross, the cross is not just part of the background. Even if the cross has become an ignored accessory, or a rejected image by those appalled by the pain depicted, the cross is still inescapable.
Wherever pain and division and violence and loss are found, there we find the cross.
In the past 20 years roadside shrines at the sites of accidental death or even murder have become common in the USA. Often a cross is part of the shrine. “Yes this” says the cross, yes, tragic and hideous loss. “Yes this, but also this.” A dialogue of realities—loss and pain, yet a stubborn and irrational hope at one and the same time. The bridge between loss and hope is the cross.
This + is a crucifix given to me by a charming Filipina nun as I entered the novitiate of my old religious Order. We were twice besieged by government-sponsored paramilitary in the village where we lived for a year. I was sitting meditating and looking at this cross one night when a burst of automatic rifle fire went off only yards away from our residence. I still feel the fear of that as I tell the story and hold this crucifix. “Yes this, but also this.”
The cross, the crucified yet risen Christ, is found at the center of all our suffering and the suffering of the world. The cross is found particularly at the nexus of suffering and pain dealt out by the oppressive powers of the world, dealt out to the poor and the pushed aside. The cross is emptied of its power if we forget that on the cross is stretched out a man executed by the powerful, executed because he was a threat to organized political and military and yes, religious power. The cross faces us with the reality that to this day people, whole peoples, are still beaten up and ordered around and imprisoned and pushed aside and even executed by the powerful and the threatened. The cross is both uncomfortable truth and proclamation of the overthrow of the powerful and the abusive, of God’s stand with the poor. “Yes this, but also this.”
We here live the cross in a particular way. Last week Padre Maldonado spoke with me about our project to make one community from two very different peoples, different cultures and language groups. One of those groups experience discrimination and exclusion on a daily basis. He said in admiration “You’ve really bet the farm!”
Well, we have. But we’ve done that because Jesus of Nazareth bet the farm, bet with his life. He bet that God would be victorious in the face of the worst that the Roman Empire and the Temple elite could do. He bet that death would not have the last word.
We here bet that, in the midst of challenges and difference, in the face of the deep divisions between people and languages and cultures, that we find the cross of Christ. “I shall draw all people to myself.” “Yes this, but also this”: a people healed and made one, an improbable community that practices justice and equality before God.
Anyone here have dandelions in their yards? Each year when I harvest the dandelions one more time, I speculate again that they are not individual plants, but all part of one whole. In the same way, the cross on our foreheads through Baptism is not our personal cross. It is one cross, one plant, blossoming in different places and different lives, drawing all, plunging to the depth of human division and human pain, embracing all and yet making hope.
“Yes this, but also this.”
Saturday, September 13, 2014
"My life and death is with my neighbor/Mi vida y mi muerte es con mi vecino"
September 7, 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp18_RCL.html
The most famous ancient hermit is Saint Antony the Great. El hermitano mas famoso es San Antonio el Major. Although he lived in solitude, he once said this: Aunque vivia en solitudo, el dijo este:
“Our life and our death is with our neighbor. Nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.
“If we gain our neighbor, we have gained God. Si ganamos nuestro vecino, ganamos el Dios. “If we scandalize our neighbor, we have sinned against Christ. Si se scandalizamos nuesto vecino, hemos pecado contra Cristo.”
As we begin this Fall season, we gather as one community to learn this again. And we give thanks that we live with one another, that our life and our death is with our neighbor. Mientras empezamos este Otono, reunimos como un comunidad para aprenderlo otro vez. Y damos gracias porque vivimos uno con el otro en este parrochia, que nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.
We are not “saved” alone. No estamos salvado solo. Much of North American religion, especially Christianity, is about me and God. Mucha religion en Norte America cuenta de salvacion individual, es acerca de mi y Dios.
But the Gospel is about life together. Pero el evangelio es acerca de vida en comun.
In the prophet we hear that we are responsible for one another, in good time or in bad. En el profeta aprendemos que somos responsible uno por el otro, en tiempos Buenos y en tiempos dificil.
We will fall, we will sin. We will fall short of God’s expectations. We will disappoint one another. Nos caeremos, nos vamos a pecar. Nos quedaremos cortos de las expectativas de Dios. Vamos a decepcionar a los otros.
We will do this together. Haremos esto juntos.
And we will stand up again when we fall. We will help one another to stand. Y estaremos juntos cuando nos caemos. Vamos a ayudarnos unos a otros de estar en pie.
This is our life: we fall down, and we stand up again. Esta es nuestra vida: nos caemos y nos levantamos de nuevo.
We cannot promise that we will never fall down, that we will never hurt one another. No podemos prometer que nunca vamos a caer, que nunca nos haremos daño unos a otros.
We can ask God’s help to stand up again. We can help one another to stand. Podemos pedir la ayuda de Dios para levantarse de nuevo. Podemos ayudarnos unos a otros a ponerse de pie.
Because God promises that we can stand, that we can live a life filled with light. Porque el Dios nos promete que podemos parar de pie, que podemos vivir una vida lleno de luz.
Jesus shows us this way of life. El Sneor Jesus nos muestra este forma de vida.
Jesus tells us how hard we should work through our problems together. Jesús nos dice lo duro que debemos trabajar a través de nuestros problemas juntos.
Because the life of one is the life of all. Debido a que la vida de uno es la vida de todos. If one of us suffers, we all suffer. Si uno de nosotros sufre, todos sufrimos. If one falls away, we all fall. Si uno cae lejos, todos cameos.
Because, as Saint Antony says, “Our life and our death is with our neighbor.” Porque, como dice San Antonio, “Nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.”
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp18_RCL.html
The most famous ancient hermit is Saint Antony the Great. El hermitano mas famoso es San Antonio el Major. Although he lived in solitude, he once said this: Aunque vivia en solitudo, el dijo este:
“Our life and our death is with our neighbor. Nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.
“If we gain our neighbor, we have gained God. Si ganamos nuestro vecino, ganamos el Dios. “If we scandalize our neighbor, we have sinned against Christ. Si se scandalizamos nuesto vecino, hemos pecado contra Cristo.”
As we begin this Fall season, we gather as one community to learn this again. And we give thanks that we live with one another, that our life and our death is with our neighbor. Mientras empezamos este Otono, reunimos como un comunidad para aprenderlo otro vez. Y damos gracias porque vivimos uno con el otro en este parrochia, que nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.
We are not “saved” alone. No estamos salvado solo. Much of North American religion, especially Christianity, is about me and God. Mucha religion en Norte America cuenta de salvacion individual, es acerca de mi y Dios.
But the Gospel is about life together. Pero el evangelio es acerca de vida en comun.
In the prophet we hear that we are responsible for one another, in good time or in bad. En el profeta aprendemos que somos responsible uno por el otro, en tiempos Buenos y en tiempos dificil.
We will fall, we will sin. We will fall short of God’s expectations. We will disappoint one another. Nos caeremos, nos vamos a pecar. Nos quedaremos cortos de las expectativas de Dios. Vamos a decepcionar a los otros.
We will do this together. Haremos esto juntos.
And we will stand up again when we fall. We will help one another to stand. Y estaremos juntos cuando nos caemos. Vamos a ayudarnos unos a otros de estar en pie.
This is our life: we fall down, and we stand up again. Esta es nuestra vida: nos caemos y nos levantamos de nuevo.
We cannot promise that we will never fall down, that we will never hurt one another. No podemos prometer que nunca vamos a caer, que nunca nos haremos daño unos a otros.
We can ask God’s help to stand up again. We can help one another to stand. Podemos pedir la ayuda de Dios para levantarse de nuevo. Podemos ayudarnos unos a otros a ponerse de pie.
Because God promises that we can stand, that we can live a life filled with light. Porque el Dios nos promete que podemos parar de pie, que podemos vivir una vida lleno de luz.
Jesus shows us this way of life. El Sneor Jesus nos muestra este forma de vida.
Jesus tells us how hard we should work through our problems together. Jesús nos dice lo duro que debemos trabajar a través de nuestros problemas juntos.
Because the life of one is the life of all. Debido a que la vida de uno es la vida de todos. If one of us suffers, we all suffer. Si uno de nosotros sufre, todos sufrimos. If one falls away, we all fall. Si uno cae lejos, todos cameos.
Because, as Saint Antony says, “Our life and our death is with our neighbor.” Porque, como dice San Antonio, “Nuestra vida y nuestra muerte es con nuestro vecino.”
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Draw Near
Transfiguration 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/HolyDays/Transfig.html
In winter, we long for the summer sun. In the winter of our lives, we long for the dazzling light of Transfiguration.
This feast is a sign of hope amidst any struggle or doubt. This feast is pure gift and grace. The early church thought it was a respite, a kind of break, from struggle and toil. If anyone draws back from the challenge or the struggle of following Jesus, today’s feast, re-telling today’s story, gives us heart and strength.
The text from Exodus was composed by people who were discouraged and in danger of forgetting who they were. Remember that what we call the Old Testament was largely assembled by scholars in Babylon, where Judah was in exile, having lost the Temple and their homeland. “Remember”, says the story of Moses. “Remember how Moses spoke to God, and how his face shone with divine light. Remember how the light frightened them, but how Moses called them near. The light was for them, and the light was for all who heard the story and who longed for light and glory in their exiled lives.
The early church carefully told this story in the Gospels and referred to it often in the Epistles. The texts of the New Testament were composed when the infant community of Christ-followers were in deep crisis, rejected and pressured from outside, divided and frightened within. “Remember”, says the Gospel story. “Remember how the Lord Jesus was transformed. Remember how the light and glory of God shone from him. Remember the cloud, the same cloud that covered Mt Sinai, remember how Peter and James and John were afraid when they entered the cloud. Remember the voice, the words ‘This is my chosen.’”
“We were with him on the holy mountain” says the old teacher in 1st Peter. “We saw, we heard, we tell you.”
The Scriptures tell you. Countless lives lived amidst doubt and struggle in the light of the Glory tell you. And I tell you.
I tell you that, even in the sameness of my days, even in the repetition of my tasks, even amidst the losses and sorrows that surround my ministry and the lives of so many around me, I long for the light of glory, the light of God shining forth from Jesus Christ. I tell you that, at the most surprising moments, I have glimpsed that light and glory. Mostly I have glimpsed that light in the cloud of my own confusion and misunderstanding, of my own mixed-up fears and doubts. The light of God is so bright that it dazzles the eyes of the head and of the mind and can appear as darkness, just as we are temporarily blinded by bright light.
But this feast, this radiant gift, speaks to me of the truth beneath all truth—the light, the glory, the radiance, the utter and complete hope beyond all hope that is always straining to burst through the surface of what we think are the Way Things Are. It is the light of unspeakable glory that truly is the Way Things Are. Remember, bask, drink deeply, lift up your hearts. We say that every Sunday.
Said an early preacher, “Since each of us possesses God in our hearts,” and is being transformed into the divine image, we also should cry out with joy ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here’—here where all things shine with divine radiance, where there is joy and gladness and exultation; where there is nothing in our hearts but peace, serenity, and stillness; where God is seen.”
Remember, draw near, do not fear. The light is kind. The light is for us.
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/HolyDays/Transfig.html
In winter, we long for the summer sun. In the winter of our lives, we long for the dazzling light of Transfiguration.
This feast is a sign of hope amidst any struggle or doubt. This feast is pure gift and grace. The early church thought it was a respite, a kind of break, from struggle and toil. If anyone draws back from the challenge or the struggle of following Jesus, today’s feast, re-telling today’s story, gives us heart and strength.
The text from Exodus was composed by people who were discouraged and in danger of forgetting who they were. Remember that what we call the Old Testament was largely assembled by scholars in Babylon, where Judah was in exile, having lost the Temple and their homeland. “Remember”, says the story of Moses. “Remember how Moses spoke to God, and how his face shone with divine light. Remember how the light frightened them, but how Moses called them near. The light was for them, and the light was for all who heard the story and who longed for light and glory in their exiled lives.
The early church carefully told this story in the Gospels and referred to it often in the Epistles. The texts of the New Testament were composed when the infant community of Christ-followers were in deep crisis, rejected and pressured from outside, divided and frightened within. “Remember”, says the Gospel story. “Remember how the Lord Jesus was transformed. Remember how the light and glory of God shone from him. Remember the cloud, the same cloud that covered Mt Sinai, remember how Peter and James and John were afraid when they entered the cloud. Remember the voice, the words ‘This is my chosen.’”
“We were with him on the holy mountain” says the old teacher in 1st Peter. “We saw, we heard, we tell you.”
The Scriptures tell you. Countless lives lived amidst doubt and struggle in the light of the Glory tell you. And I tell you.
I tell you that, even in the sameness of my days, even in the repetition of my tasks, even amidst the losses and sorrows that surround my ministry and the lives of so many around me, I long for the light of glory, the light of God shining forth from Jesus Christ. I tell you that, at the most surprising moments, I have glimpsed that light and glory. Mostly I have glimpsed that light in the cloud of my own confusion and misunderstanding, of my own mixed-up fears and doubts. The light of God is so bright that it dazzles the eyes of the head and of the mind and can appear as darkness, just as we are temporarily blinded by bright light.
But this feast, this radiant gift, speaks to me of the truth beneath all truth—the light, the glory, the radiance, the utter and complete hope beyond all hope that is always straining to burst through the surface of what we think are the Way Things Are. It is the light of unspeakable glory that truly is the Way Things Are. Remember, bask, drink deeply, lift up your hearts. We say that every Sunday.
Said an early preacher, “Since each of us possesses God in our hearts,” and is being transformed into the divine image, we also should cry out with joy ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here’—here where all things shine with divine radiance, where there is joy and gladness and exultation; where there is nothing in our hearts but peace, serenity, and stillness; where God is seen.”
Remember, draw near, do not fear. The light is kind. The light is for us.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Free of Charge/No Hay Cuesta
Proper 13 A 2014 (bi-lingual)
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp13_RCL.html
Today, we hear that the finest food does not cost money. Todavia escuchamos que el provecho mas sabroso no hay cuesta.
“Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” “Consigan vino y leche sin pagar nada.”
When we gather, the richest food is free of charge. Cuando reunimos, el provecho mas sabroso no hay cuesta.
In our common life we speak much of money and grants. We speak of dreams and plans for our parish, our buildings, our programs. En nuestra vida comun aqui hablamos mucho de dinero y becas. Hablamos del suenos y visiones por nuestra parrochia, por nuestros edificios, y nuestras programas.
But what gives life and meaning to all of that is free of charge. Pero el que se da vida y significa a todo esto no hay cuesta.
The food of God is the love of God in Christ. El provecho de Dios es el amor de Dios en Cristo Jesus.
The food of God is the Word and the Sacraments, the peace of the Spirit. El provecho de Dios es la Palabra y los Sacramentos, la paz del Espiritu Santo.
The food of God is the presence of Holy Spirit in the midst of the gathered community. El provecho de Dios es la presencia del Espiritu Santo en la media de la comunidad reunido.
That food we have in abundance. Este provecho tenemos en abundancia
At times that food seems scarce. A veces este comida parece escaso.
We struggle to overcome barriers that language and culture can present. Luchamos para vencerer sobre barreras de lenguaje y cultura puede presentar.
We work hard to try and worship together, and to make decisions together. Trabajamos para orar juntos, y hacer decisiones juntos.
At times, our life together seems as small and fragile as two fish and a little bread. A veces nuestra vida comun parece pequeno y fragil como dos pecados y un poquito de pan.
But today, Jesus blesses these small, fragile gifts, and tells us to break them and give them to the community. Pero todavia el Senor Jesus les bendiga estos donos pequenos y fragiles y se mandanos a fraccionarlos y a darlos a la comunidad.
And there will be abundance. Y sera abundancia.
In this broken and fearful world, there are few examples of peoples who come together in the name of God amidst differences of language and culture. En este mundo lleno del miedo y divisiones, hay pocos exemplos del pueblo quienes reunen en el nombre de Dios en la media de diferencias del lenguage y cultura.
But we are trying. Pero tratamos esto.
The church of God is called to be a sign of hope. La iglesia de Dios esta llamada a ser un senal de esperanza.
Our life together is a sign of hope for unity in a divided world. Nuestra vida comun es un senal de esperanza por unidad en un mundo dividido.
God promises today that our life together is not just for ourselves, but for those not yet with us who hunger for that hope and that sign. Todavia el Dios nos promesa que nuestra vida no es por nosotros solamente, sino por aquellos que no estamos ya con nosotros, quien tiene hambre por esta esperanza y este senal.
“See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you." “Tú llamarás a pueblos desconocidos; pueblos que no te conocían irán corriendo a ti, porque yo, tu Señor, el Dios Santo de Israel, te he honrado.”
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp13_RCL.html
Today, we hear that the finest food does not cost money. Todavia escuchamos que el provecho mas sabroso no hay cuesta.
“Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” “Consigan vino y leche sin pagar nada.”
When we gather, the richest food is free of charge. Cuando reunimos, el provecho mas sabroso no hay cuesta.
In our common life we speak much of money and grants. We speak of dreams and plans for our parish, our buildings, our programs. En nuestra vida comun aqui hablamos mucho de dinero y becas. Hablamos del suenos y visiones por nuestra parrochia, por nuestros edificios, y nuestras programas.
But what gives life and meaning to all of that is free of charge. Pero el que se da vida y significa a todo esto no hay cuesta.
The food of God is the love of God in Christ. El provecho de Dios es el amor de Dios en Cristo Jesus.
The food of God is the Word and the Sacraments, the peace of the Spirit. El provecho de Dios es la Palabra y los Sacramentos, la paz del Espiritu Santo.
The food of God is the presence of Holy Spirit in the midst of the gathered community. El provecho de Dios es la presencia del Espiritu Santo en la media de la comunidad reunido.
That food we have in abundance. Este provecho tenemos en abundancia
At times that food seems scarce. A veces este comida parece escaso.
We struggle to overcome barriers that language and culture can present. Luchamos para vencerer sobre barreras de lenguaje y cultura puede presentar.
We work hard to try and worship together, and to make decisions together. Trabajamos para orar juntos, y hacer decisiones juntos.
At times, our life together seems as small and fragile as two fish and a little bread. A veces nuestra vida comun parece pequeno y fragil como dos pecados y un poquito de pan.
But today, Jesus blesses these small, fragile gifts, and tells us to break them and give them to the community. Pero todavia el Senor Jesus les bendiga estos donos pequenos y fragiles y se mandanos a fraccionarlos y a darlos a la comunidad.
And there will be abundance. Y sera abundancia.
In this broken and fearful world, there are few examples of peoples who come together in the name of God amidst differences of language and culture. En este mundo lleno del miedo y divisiones, hay pocos exemplos del pueblo quienes reunen en el nombre de Dios en la media de diferencias del lenguage y cultura.
But we are trying. Pero tratamos esto.
The church of God is called to be a sign of hope. La iglesia de Dios esta llamada a ser un senal de esperanza.
Our life together is a sign of hope for unity in a divided world. Nuestra vida comun es un senal de esperanza por unidad en un mundo dividido.
God promises today that our life together is not just for ourselves, but for those not yet with us who hunger for that hope and that sign. Todavia el Dios nos promesa que nuestra vida no es por nosotros solamente, sino por aquellos que no estamos ya con nosotros, quien tiene hambre por esta esperanza y este senal.
“See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you." “Tú llamarás a pueblos desconocidos; pueblos que no te conocían irán corriendo a ti, porque yo, tu Señor, el Dios Santo de Israel, te he honrado.”
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Under the mud
Proper 12 A 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp12_RCL.html
The deepest truth is the one most hidden.
Martin Smith tells the story of how he went to search for an ancient well. He was a theology student in England, and one day he learned that in the Middle Ages there was a holy well outside of the old town where the seminary was located. Like so many of the ancient holy sites the chapel and other buildings at the well were destroyed during the Reformation. The site of the well was neglected and eventually forgotten except in local legend and some historical references.
One Sunday afternoon Martin got a bicycle and, armed with some amateur research as to where to look, set out for the rural area where he thought the holy well was sited. He found himself walking in the midst of a cow pasture, with nothing in sight except grass and weeds and cows and cow pies.
Martin kept walking, although he had no real idea where he was going.
In a low place in the pasture, Martin suddenly sank up to his ankles in mud. Using his hands, Martin dug away the mud and grass. Suddenly his fingertips scraped on stone. Over the course of a couple of hours Martin uncovered a small plaza of rough paving stones surrounding the holy well, still silently providing life-giving water underneath the mud and weeds and cow manure, still waiting to be found.
The most precious gifts lie hidden in plain sight.
Solomon’s famous wisdom is found completely in the simple prayer we heard today: “Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?" In other words, give me wisdom. In the Hebrew Scriptures wisdom is not simply knowledge as we understand it. Wisdom is a living being, the “Hochma”, feminine and dynamic and creative, present with God at the beginning of all things.
Later, she was known as “Sophia”, “Holy Wisdom” through whom and with whom God continually redeems the chosen people.
In the New Testament she is the Holy Spirit, the breath, the life and depth of God. The Spirit raises Jesus from the dead, and is given to each of us baptized as a sign and seal and promise of glory.
Like Martin Smith’s well, Spirit is the hidden life of God. She hides in plain sight. She hides in our own depths. She is always at prayer within us.
A contemporary monk was asked how it was that he seemed to possess the gift of continuous prayer that St. Paul speaks of several times. His answer also spoke of wells: “I think that prayer was always inside of me, like a spring covered with a stone. Then Jesus came and took away the stone. Prayer has been welling up ever since.”
This is our most precious gift, God-with-us, God-within. When we hunger for prayer and wonder why we cannot pray, the answer is closer to us than our own breath. Spirit is sighing too deep for words within us. God in Christ declares us God’s own. God is for us. God’s gift is given free of charge. Any attempts we make to pray, either alone or gathered here, are simply focused moments when we ask God to take away whatever stone, or mud or weeds or cow manure, that may be obscuring the gift of prayer within us. In the end, it is disarmingly simple, it is so close we have trouble focusing our restless wandering eyes. Small as a seed, humble as yeast, but the treasure hidden in the field. I wonder if the merchant in Jesus’ parable found his treasure under mud and weeds and cow manure?
So often in church we talk about the church, we talk about our experience, we talk about the relationships, we talk about the building and the money and the tasks to be done.
How often do we talk about this: Wisdom given lavishly if we ask, Spirit praying always within us?
Perhaps if we speak about this hidden treasure, this deepest truth, all else will be given as well.
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp12_RCL.html
The deepest truth is the one most hidden.
Martin Smith tells the story of how he went to search for an ancient well. He was a theology student in England, and one day he learned that in the Middle Ages there was a holy well outside of the old town where the seminary was located. Like so many of the ancient holy sites the chapel and other buildings at the well were destroyed during the Reformation. The site of the well was neglected and eventually forgotten except in local legend and some historical references.
One Sunday afternoon Martin got a bicycle and, armed with some amateur research as to where to look, set out for the rural area where he thought the holy well was sited. He found himself walking in the midst of a cow pasture, with nothing in sight except grass and weeds and cows and cow pies.
Martin kept walking, although he had no real idea where he was going.
In a low place in the pasture, Martin suddenly sank up to his ankles in mud. Using his hands, Martin dug away the mud and grass. Suddenly his fingertips scraped on stone. Over the course of a couple of hours Martin uncovered a small plaza of rough paving stones surrounding the holy well, still silently providing life-giving water underneath the mud and weeds and cow manure, still waiting to be found.
The most precious gifts lie hidden in plain sight.
Solomon’s famous wisdom is found completely in the simple prayer we heard today: “Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?" In other words, give me wisdom. In the Hebrew Scriptures wisdom is not simply knowledge as we understand it. Wisdom is a living being, the “Hochma”, feminine and dynamic and creative, present with God at the beginning of all things.
Later, she was known as “Sophia”, “Holy Wisdom” through whom and with whom God continually redeems the chosen people.
In the New Testament she is the Holy Spirit, the breath, the life and depth of God. The Spirit raises Jesus from the dead, and is given to each of us baptized as a sign and seal and promise of glory.
Like Martin Smith’s well, Spirit is the hidden life of God. She hides in plain sight. She hides in our own depths. She is always at prayer within us.
A contemporary monk was asked how it was that he seemed to possess the gift of continuous prayer that St. Paul speaks of several times. His answer also spoke of wells: “I think that prayer was always inside of me, like a spring covered with a stone. Then Jesus came and took away the stone. Prayer has been welling up ever since.”
This is our most precious gift, God-with-us, God-within. When we hunger for prayer and wonder why we cannot pray, the answer is closer to us than our own breath. Spirit is sighing too deep for words within us. God in Christ declares us God’s own. God is for us. God’s gift is given free of charge. Any attempts we make to pray, either alone or gathered here, are simply focused moments when we ask God to take away whatever stone, or mud or weeds or cow manure, that may be obscuring the gift of prayer within us. In the end, it is disarmingly simple, it is so close we have trouble focusing our restless wandering eyes. Small as a seed, humble as yeast, but the treasure hidden in the field. I wonder if the merchant in Jesus’ parable found his treasure under mud and weeds and cow manure?
So often in church we talk about the church, we talk about our experience, we talk about the relationships, we talk about the building and the money and the tasks to be done.
How often do we talk about this: Wisdom given lavishly if we ask, Spirit praying always within us?
Perhaps if we speak about this hidden treasure, this deepest truth, all else will be given as well.
Weeding
Proper 11 A 2014
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp11_RCL.html
It’s funny what you find in your lawn.
We have some lawn around our house, a cheerful mixture of grass and clover and dandelions and some things I cannot even name. It’s green, which is all that matters to me.
But the dandelions bug me because they’re greedy. They spread out and claim big round patches of ground, killing the other stuff. And they’re greedy of air space—ignore the lawn for a couple of weeks and you’ll see them, tall and insolent, waving their high stalks in the breeze.
On the rare occasions that I have time and energy to do so, I like to take my favorite tool, a weed-ripper shaped kind of like a screwdriver with a wide pronged tip, and dig them out. It’s very satisfying—I push the tip down as far as you can and patiently pry. I love the satisfying “pop” of the root—it’s like popping a big pimple. My reward is a surprisingly large plant cradled in my palm, a “lawn cabbage” as I like to call them.
The clover flowers came in late June. A neighbor keeps bees, and honeybees need all the help we can give them. So I cut the grass around the clover and left big patches. The bees seemed to appreciate that and the clover was astir with tiny flecks of gold.
Well, the clover dried up and began looking sad, and my daughter was stung on the foot as she walked through with sandals. So last night I got out our electric mower and began to cut the whole business.
As I cut the clover, I marveled. Hidden among the clover I found several of those nasty sort of dandelion cousins, those weeds that grow really savage spikes on their leaves. Stepping on one barefooted is like stepping on a land sea-urchin. They took total advantage of my compassion for the clover and the bees and grew their ugly spines tucked away from sight.
Good timing, for today’s parable is about seeds and weeds. This is one of the parables in which Jesus’ interpretation is his way to deal with the unwillingness of the disciples to use their imaginations.
Sometimes I feel that we are the ground, open for all kinds of seeds, good and bad. The older I get the more aware I am of the array of plants growing inside of myself. The good growth, the sweet nourishing harvest of kindness and forbearance and humility and prayer, grow very quietly. The Spirit crying “Abba” is a whisper. I am more aware of the big, thorny weeds—my capacity for judgment and for resentment and for selfishness. I see the spiritual task as a process of consistent weeding. If not, the dandelions quickly rise to wave in the breeze.
But sometimes I think that God is the seed and also the ground.
On Friday I drove once again to Mt Angel/Woodburn for hospice work. The abbey at Mt Angel has a bookstore and coffee shop with good wi-fi—it is a good place to catch up on charting and e-mail while absorbing some peace by osmosis.
On the table were some copies of the Houston Catholic Worker. The issue was mostly devoted to the enormous human tragedy of unaccompanied migrant children crossing the borders. The writer spoke of the racism of those who imply that these Central American children must have neglectful parents. No, they love their children passionately. Only because of the desperation of conditions in Central America do they choose the slim chance for survival vs the nearly certain fate of keeping them at home. Keeping them at home, to face conditions that we helped create by participating actively in their civil wars, by creating the economic conditions that foment poverty and desperation.
But the article spoke of efforts not only to help the children, but also to address the root causes of Latin American poverty and desperation. To not only cut the field, but to address the roots of seeds we planted.
I felt the stir of my old commitments and activist work in the 1980’s, the old passions that had gotten lost in the business of life and family and running church programs. I thought of our work here, to birth a community that addresses inequity and racism and cultural control, to be equals all together.
I thought with gratitude of those who have passion to ask the questions and to do the work. And as I sat in the coffee shop, I thought of all the good being done every day by good people, caring for the sick and the dying, speaking up for the vulnerable, the ways in which the world remains a place where compassion still has a voice.
Wisdom says, “For you show your strength when people doubt the completeness of your power,
and you rebuke any insolence among those who know it.
Although you are sovereign in strength, you judge with mildness,
and with great forbearance you govern us;
for you have power to act whenever you choose.
Through such works you have taught your people
that the righteous must be kind,
and you have filled your children with good hope,
because you give repentance for sins.”
Repentance means another chance, another day for weeding. Another opportunity for us to make it right, to bring compassion. For the ground is good ground, and there is good seed, God-ground and God-seed.
I looked at the insolent little thorny plant, capable of ruining someone’s evening if stepped on unawares. I dug down with my favorite tool.
I do love the sound and feeling of that “pop.”
http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp11_RCL.html
It’s funny what you find in your lawn.
We have some lawn around our house, a cheerful mixture of grass and clover and dandelions and some things I cannot even name. It’s green, which is all that matters to me.
But the dandelions bug me because they’re greedy. They spread out and claim big round patches of ground, killing the other stuff. And they’re greedy of air space—ignore the lawn for a couple of weeks and you’ll see them, tall and insolent, waving their high stalks in the breeze.
On the rare occasions that I have time and energy to do so, I like to take my favorite tool, a weed-ripper shaped kind of like a screwdriver with a wide pronged tip, and dig them out. It’s very satisfying—I push the tip down as far as you can and patiently pry. I love the satisfying “pop” of the root—it’s like popping a big pimple. My reward is a surprisingly large plant cradled in my palm, a “lawn cabbage” as I like to call them.
The clover flowers came in late June. A neighbor keeps bees, and honeybees need all the help we can give them. So I cut the grass around the clover and left big patches. The bees seemed to appreciate that and the clover was astir with tiny flecks of gold.
Well, the clover dried up and began looking sad, and my daughter was stung on the foot as she walked through with sandals. So last night I got out our electric mower and began to cut the whole business.
As I cut the clover, I marveled. Hidden among the clover I found several of those nasty sort of dandelion cousins, those weeds that grow really savage spikes on their leaves. Stepping on one barefooted is like stepping on a land sea-urchin. They took total advantage of my compassion for the clover and the bees and grew their ugly spines tucked away from sight.
Good timing, for today’s parable is about seeds and weeds. This is one of the parables in which Jesus’ interpretation is his way to deal with the unwillingness of the disciples to use their imaginations.
Sometimes I feel that we are the ground, open for all kinds of seeds, good and bad. The older I get the more aware I am of the array of plants growing inside of myself. The good growth, the sweet nourishing harvest of kindness and forbearance and humility and prayer, grow very quietly. The Spirit crying “Abba” is a whisper. I am more aware of the big, thorny weeds—my capacity for judgment and for resentment and for selfishness. I see the spiritual task as a process of consistent weeding. If not, the dandelions quickly rise to wave in the breeze.
But sometimes I think that God is the seed and also the ground.
On Friday I drove once again to Mt Angel/Woodburn for hospice work. The abbey at Mt Angel has a bookstore and coffee shop with good wi-fi—it is a good place to catch up on charting and e-mail while absorbing some peace by osmosis.
On the table were some copies of the Houston Catholic Worker. The issue was mostly devoted to the enormous human tragedy of unaccompanied migrant children crossing the borders. The writer spoke of the racism of those who imply that these Central American children must have neglectful parents. No, they love their children passionately. Only because of the desperation of conditions in Central America do they choose the slim chance for survival vs the nearly certain fate of keeping them at home. Keeping them at home, to face conditions that we helped create by participating actively in their civil wars, by creating the economic conditions that foment poverty and desperation.
But the article spoke of efforts not only to help the children, but also to address the root causes of Latin American poverty and desperation. To not only cut the field, but to address the roots of seeds we planted.
I felt the stir of my old commitments and activist work in the 1980’s, the old passions that had gotten lost in the business of life and family and running church programs. I thought of our work here, to birth a community that addresses inequity and racism and cultural control, to be equals all together.
I thought with gratitude of those who have passion to ask the questions and to do the work. And as I sat in the coffee shop, I thought of all the good being done every day by good people, caring for the sick and the dying, speaking up for the vulnerable, the ways in which the world remains a place where compassion still has a voice.
Wisdom says, “For you show your strength when people doubt the completeness of your power,
and you rebuke any insolence among those who know it.
Although you are sovereign in strength, you judge with mildness,
and with great forbearance you govern us;
for you have power to act whenever you choose.
Through such works you have taught your people
that the righteous must be kind,
and you have filled your children with good hope,
because you give repentance for sins.”
Repentance means another chance, another day for weeding. Another opportunity for us to make it right, to bring compassion. For the ground is good ground, and there is good seed, God-ground and God-seed.
I looked at the insolent little thorny plant, capable of ruining someone’s evening if stepped on unawares. I dug down with my favorite tool.
I do love the sound and feeling of that “pop.”
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