Memorial Day Prayer

Gracious God, 

On this Memorial Day weekend we remember and give thanks to those who, in difficult and trying times, have sacrificed life and limb in service to an ideal they valued more highly than their own lives.  They practiced that love that gives itself for another—for loved ones and neighbors and friends, and for strangers they would never know. 

While we give thanks for them, help us remember that we cannot honor their memory unless we care for—and provide for, the families they have left behind.   Remind us that we do not honor their sacrifice unless we insure their wounded comrades—those who have returned from war broken and hurting, are not left behind but receive the medical and emotional care they need and deserve.  Forgive us, Loving God, for all the times we demand sacrifice from these young men and women and then begrudge the cost helping them find health and healing on their return.

And today make us watchful caretakers of the liberty for which they paid so dear a price.  May we be slow to relinquish these freedoms in exchange for the illusion of security.  Above all, may we truly honor their sacrifice by forsaking our own greed for material gain, our lust for power and control, our readiness to go to war, our willingness to kill and destroy.

O Lord, Jesus taught us to pray that your kingdom would come among us today and that your will would be done among us today.  And so we pray for the day when the rulers of the world will value the lives of our sons and daughters more highly than they value their position and reputation.  We pray for the day when we will love the children of our enemies as much as we love our own.  We pray for the day when war and violence will not be seen as a nation’s first or best or only course of action.

Loving God, grant to us who are followers of the Prince of Peace a hunger, a yearning for peace in our world in this time.  Instill in us a love like his—a deep love for Creation, an enduring love for our own land and an abiding love for all our neighbors.

And as we today honor our sons and daughters who have given so much we pray that you will make us worthy of their sacrifice.

O God, make us worthy.  Amen

I have two pieces for your consideration today.  Neither is mine, but both are very worth the time to read.  The first is by Beth Albert and is a response to my earlier post: "Will it ever stop raining".  In these words Beth captures  something of the anxiety and fear that rules much of modern life and she says something important about the source of this anxiety.

The second item is a re-post of this week's entry in Dan Clendenin's blog, Journey with Jesus.  You'll find a link to his site in the "Worth Reading" column just to the right of this page.  Journey with Jesus is a weekly essay on the Scripture texts in the Lectionary used by many churches in their Sunday worship.  I can't recommend his blog highly enough.  His writing is always clear, accessible and enlightening.  You would do well to make it a weekly habit to visit his site on Monday mornings.

I'm linking these two pieces because they each contribute to a discussion we ought to be having, namely, what can we do about the dysfunction and despair running rampant through our families, our schools, our churches and our government.  

Read them over and weigh in on the conversation.  Tell me what you think. 
  

By  Beth Albert...

My thoughts about the recent bombings…

There is a new Zeitgeist taking over the minds of our country…  One of polarization, fear, paranoia, judgment, mistrust…  also the proportion of struggling people in the US seem to be increasing which lead to anger, resentment, mistrust again…

I just think the bombing like these, though random and unpredictable, are inevitable in a society which does not nurture its citizens.   It is the result of an environment in which I (even me, who grew up in privilege) fear that my kids won’t be able to make a decent living, gain a good education, have adequate health care, be taken care of as they age….   It is easy for even me, a person of privilege to become angry, anxious, and fearful…   How much more must be the insecurity and anger of immigrant teens, from a war torn country, who are part of a demonized religious tradition.  They too are trying to find a place in this world and were probably having a tough time especially coming out of high school.  It’s easy then to blame others for your situation…   to become angry… Kids in that state of mind, I think are “ripe” for radicalization.   It’s their stage of life…. Chaotic, confusing, searching for meaning, idealistic, naïve, intense, energetic…  

I see it in my own son…  luckily he has healthy ways to channel these energies.  Most of the recent shootings in our country have been perpetrated by young men.   Who were their fathers?  Who were their role models?  Busy working?   Who listens to them?  What do they have to hope for?

I get sick of the rhetoric….  They were such nice kids… who would have thought… there were no signs… Then there’s the tough talk…  we will bring the perpetrators to justice, acts like this are unacceptable….

We are so blind!  Our society is like a dysfunctional family…  And we don’t even know how to relate well to other nations without posturing and threatening violence… this is what we are teaching our children….  On top of that, our kids are steeped in a violent and depressing teen culture full of post-apocalyptic video games, books, and movies about zombie take-overs, teens killing each other, psychopathic under-cover agents etc… they are exciting, edgy, and intoxicating, for sure but what effect are they having on our children’s minds?

I don’t think it is possible to “fight” terrorism.  Fighting just provides fuel for the fire.  We need to have compassion for even the perpetrators of such incredibly evil acts.  They must have incredibly tortured and hellish inner lives in order to be capable of inflicting such horrific suffering, pain, and terror on others.  

The only real way to lessen the likelihood of future atrocities like this, is to work hard to make our society more nurturing and supportive by providing things like health care for all, free college education, job coaching, and pensions.  Our young people need extra care and nurturing, especially those who don’t fit the mold…  immigrants, minorities and outcasts.  We need to pay attention to them, listen to them, and help them find a place in the world where they can channel all that anger and frustration into something good.   Maybe we adults also need to model the behaviors of compassion, compromise and respect for all people, especially those different from ourselves.  Our kids and the whole world are watching.

"To Carry the Candle Against the Wind"
The New Commandment of Jesus

For Sunday April 28, 2013

Lectionary Readings (Revised Common Lectionary, Year C)
Acts 11:1–18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1–6
John 13:31–35

           During Lent I watched a documentary film called A Place at the Table about hunger in America. We're the world's richest country and biggest food producer, and yet 14.5 percent of U.S. households — nearly 49 million Americans, including 16.2 million children — struggle to put food on the table. We have thousands of "food deserts" where it's virtually impossible to buy fresh produce. The number of food banks and soup kitchens has skyrocketed in the last few decades, which is just what many legislators want — let private charity solve this public problem while they shovel millions of tax dollars to corporate agribusiness.
           After watching the film, my mind wandered across our country's cultural landscape.

Apostle John from Greek minuscle 482, c. 1285.

         
           We have an epidemic of gun violence. Our broken health care system neglects the poor and enriches doctors, insurance companies, lobbyists, and Big Pharma.
           Our government is dysfunctional. A proxy military made up of the poor supports a permanent war economy — America has 700 bases in 60 countries, and in any one year will conduct operations of some sort in 170 countries.
           The mass incarceration rates of our penal system dwarf those of other developing countries, including Russia, China, and Iran. Over 20% of our children don't graduate from high school. The "entertainment" industry churns out a toxic combination of the vulgar and the vapid. And the economic collapse of 2008 showed just how much corporate capitalism privatizes its massive profits and socializes its risks.
           These are signs of what Garry Wills calls a "deeply degraded culture." They're the stuff of dystopian movies like The Hunger Games, novels like The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and historical scholarship like Collapse by Jared Diamond. In his book called Vanished Kingdoms (2011), a history of "state death," Norman Davies argues that all political power is transient: "All states and nations, however great, bloom for a season and are replaced." To imagine that America is an exception is "whistling in the dark."
           So, it's easy to be a pessimist. But here's the paradox — Christians are the ultimate optimists.
           The epistle for this week explains why: "I am making all things new! These words are trustworthy and true." Christians are optimists because we believe that the God who created the world will redeem the world.

John the Evangelist from Greek minuscle 1425, c. 12th-century.

        
           The gospel for this week shows how: "A new commandment I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. All people will know that you are my disciples if you love one another." God's redemption of the world is mediated through the love of his people.
           When we love one another, the church becomes an exemplar of life out of death, a model of how the old can be renewed. We become a present-day sign of the future new heaven and earth, when God "will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
           It's not obvious in what sense Jesus's commandment is "new." It's an ancient commandment that goes back 3000 years to the founding of the Hebrew community: "Love your neighbor as yourself," says Leviticus 19:18. But that interesting technical question shouldn't distract us from the call of Jesus to love the world into a present reality of the future.
           The reading from Acts about Peter and Cornelius is one example of how God makes the old new. Peter was a conscientious Jew who maintained his ritual purity: "I have never eaten anything impure or unclean." But in a vision he learned that even the Gentiles are accepted by God, and therefore he "should not call any man impure or unclean. If God gave them the same gift as he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to think that I could oppose God?"
           In his commentary on Galatians 6:10, the church father Jerome describes how John the evangelist, author of the gospel and book of Revelation, preached at Ephesus into his nineties. Christian tradition holds that he died in about the year 100 CE.

John and his scribe Prokhorus, Russian icon, c. 1580.

         
           At that age, John was so feeble that he had to be carried into the church at Ephesus on a stretcher. Then, when he could no longer preach a normal sermon, he would lean up on one elbow. The only thing he said was, “Little children, love one another.” People would then carry him back out of the church.
           This continued for weeks, says Jerome. And every week he repeated his one-sentence sermon: “Little children, love one another.”
           Weary of the repetition, the congregation finally asked, "Master, why do you always say this?"
           "Because," John replied, "it is the Lord's command, and if this only is done, it is enough."
           The necessary connection between claiming to love God and demonstrating that we love our neighbor was so embedded in the early Christian traditions that we find this teaching repeated almost verbatim by Paul (Romans 13:8–9, Galatians 5:14), by James (James 2:8), and most memorably by John: "If anyone says, 'I love God,' yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother" (1 John 4:20–21).
           In his book of poetry called Leavings (2012), Wendell Berry's poem-prayer gives us a way to start:

           "I know that I have life
only insofar as I have love.
           I have no love
except it come from Thee.
           Help me, please, to carry
this candle against the wind."

Sometimes I have things I want to say.  Much more often I stumble on to poets and writers  who are way ahead of me.  This is one of those mornings.

I know that I have life
only insofar as I have love.

           I have no love
except it come from Thee.

           Help me, please, to carry
this candle against the wind.

                                Wendell Berry

                                Leavings (2012)

Learn to look at the sky again

Because you gave names to everything you found

and came up with logos for bad ideas

and woke up early for conference calls

and it was no progress at all

just a shadow festival

because of that you will have to learn to look at the sky again

you will have to learn to eat food that grows where you live again

you will have to learn to touch what you make



by the Occupy poet Robert Montgomery.  Re-posted from here:  

http://www.resilience.org/stories/2013-04-19/learning-to-look-at-the-sky-again

Will it ever stop raining?

This spring it doesn't seem like it.  The moments of sunshine between the cold, stormy  days give some small encouragement, but the otherwise incessant rain threatens to wash away our hope of an actual season where things can be planted and expected to grow.

It seems as well there will be no let up of the incessant tears falling around the country.  Aurora, Newtown and now Boston--each a site of a senseless attack on innocent people whose only mistake was being in the wrong  place when  craziness and evil conspired to do as much damage as they could.

Why do these things happen?  I don't know.  Because they do?  Because evil is present and active in the world and if something heinous can be done sooner or later it will be done?  Because there are people who actually believe their political agendas trump the right of their victims to live out their lives?  Because violence is so deeply embedded in our culture and so constantly reinforced in our media?  Because we live in a society that worships military power and prowess and that continues to think, all evidence to the contrary, that  if we could only keep these deadly weapons in the "right" hands we would all be safe?  Because sick people believe they have no other alternative?  Or because even sicker people think they are somehow justified in taking innocent life?  I don't know why.

What can be done?  A different, but no less difficult question.  We could (and probably will) increase surveillance of the general population hoping to ferret out and prevent future attacks.  Of course in the process we will further erode the civil liberties we purport to hold dear as we trade off even more of our freedom for an ever elusive security; but that seems to be an  bargain acceptable to more and more people these days.  We could (and almost certainly will) ratchet up the rhetoric of revenge as justice, and threaten ever greater sanctions and punishments.  This may give some solace to the public but will do nothing to make future incidents such as the attack in Boston less likely.  People capable of such acts are probably more motivated than deterred by threats of retaliation.  When we threaten violence we are speaking their language. 

Certainly we can pray, seeking comfort for those who have lost so much and will continue to suffer so much.  We can pray for ourselves and the rest of the country--that we will not succumb to the fear and terror this act was meant to inspire.

But perhaps most of all, this is a time for us to practice being the church.  This is a time, as we talked last Sunday, for us to heed Jesus' call to go and be the people and the place ruled by love--love for God, love for each other and love for our neighbors near and far.  Now is the time for us to be the people, empowered by the Spirit of God, who release the world from its brokenness; a people who model for the world how folks of all stripes and persuasions can live together in a respect which, even if it isn't always a true affection, certainly looks and feels like it is.

This, of course, won't change events on the ground in Boston or Newtown.  The church in Boston and Newtown will have to do that, with our prayers and support.  But what we do in Mt Vernon and our other home towns--how we live, how we love, how we heal will certainly affect what happens around us here.  Because, you see, a people--a church, who live in love, who live to heal will produce far, far fewer of the twisted, broken individuals capable of the violence and destruction we saw in Boston this week.

This is not a time to play it safe--to lock the doors, as the disciples did on that Easter evening, and hide from the things we fear.  This is precisely the time for us to open the doors wide, to break off the hinges if we have to; the time to live and love and heal fervently.  This is the time for the church (including our little church) to love so large that anyone we interact with will see there is an alternative to the violence, hatred, and retaliation that is the unfortunate first reaction of people who live in fear. Now is the time for the church to be church.

Will it ever stop raining?  Yes.  I will "wipe every tear from their eyes" God promises in the final words of Scripture.  "Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away."   This is climate change of a benevolent sort--God pouring love and healing into the atmosphere of our broken world.

Now is the time to breathe.  Breathe deeply.  Live large.

Good Friday 2013

Isaiah 53

Who has believed what we have heard?
   And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
For he grew up before him like a young plant,
   and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
   nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by others;
   a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces
   he was despised, and we held him of no account.

Surely he has borne our infirmities
   and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
   struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
   crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
   and by his bruises we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
   we have all turned to our own way,
and the Lord has laid on him
   the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
   yet he did not open his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
   and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
   so he did not open his mouth.
By a perversion of justice he was taken away.
   Who could have imagined his future?
For he was cut off from the land of the living,
   stricken for the transgression of my people.
They made his grave with the wicked
   and his tomb with the rich,
although he had done no violence,
   and there was no deceit in his mouth.

Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him with pain.
When you make his life an offering for sin,
   he shall see his offspring, and shall prolong his days;
through him the will of the Lord shall prosper.
   Out of his anguish he shall see light;
he shall find satisfaction through his knowledge.
   The righteous one, my servant, shall make many righteous,
   and he shall bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will allot him a portion with the great,
   and he shall divide the spoil with the strong;
because he poured out himself to death,
   and was numbered with the transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
   and made intercession for the transgressors. 


(The idea for this post and the picture came from Richard Beck's "Experimental Theology" blog on 3-29-13)

I almost had a cow last night...

Well, not me, exactly, but my Jersey, Sassy who is just past nine months pregnant.  And it wouldn't have been a full grown cow, of course, but a very little one.  Conventional wisdom from my vet says a Jersey's gestation runs 9 months plus 10 days (give or take a week--don't you love how precise farming is).  That would put her due date anytime between yesterday and sometime next week.

So when I checked her last night and saw the signs--a swelling udder, softening tail bones and a far off look in her eyes, I began to get hopeful.  I moved the pesky donkeys to a different paddock, fluffed up some extra bedding where Sassy would sleep and went to bed.  At 3:30 (that's A.M.) I got up to check on her because I am a careful (read: soft-hearted) farmer and I wanted to make sure everything was proceeding well.  Sassy was laying down, chewing her cud, with her back legs sticking out straight.  Her breathing was coming in short, measured grunts and every few minutes she would stretch, arch her tail bone a little further, give a big push and her back end would swell and extend a few inches--everything you expect to see when a soon to be cow-mom is working to expel 30 0r 40 pounds of calf through an impossibly small opening.

These things can take time, I know, and I'm not really worried about Sassy's birthing or mothering abilities.  So after watching for a few minutes I returned to bed and woke up my wife to tell her nothing had happened.

I went back out to the barn at 6 this morning, fully expecting to find a baby cow and hoping for a baby girl.  But Sassy seemed to have thought better of the whole idea.  She was just standing around waiting to get her neck scratched and her feed bunk filled.

She didn't fool me for a minute, however.  I know what's coming; I'll just have to be patient.  Patient-- and hopeful that she doesn't get the lame brained idea of having her calf out in a snow bank at the far end of the pasture in the rain this weekend.

Patience and Hope.  The farmer's job description.