Daily Musings

Did you eat yet?

"D'jeet yet?"  Although Jesus tells us not to worry about eating, we do.  We worry if the infant isn't eating; we worry when teenagers aren't eating everything in sight, we worry that our elders aren't getting enough nutrition. 

We show hospitality by offering food to eat; we express caring by providing food to those who don't have it, because we know everyone needs to eat.  Eating food keeps us alive, so when Jesus asked for food and ate it, it was reassurance that he was real (not a ghost).

It had to have been pretty confusing then: Jesus's death, the disappearance of his body, the rumors of sightings, combined with the shock of the whole thing - what the heck was going on, anyway? And then Jesus just shows up.  And eats.  Whoa. 

If I'd been there, I'd want to stop, to sit down and think, to try to get a grip on the edges of this paradigm shift.  Was dead - crucified - we saw it; now he's here and eating.

And Jesus says, "This is what I told you about; you're the ones who see it." Death, resurrection, repentance, forgiveness - fulfillment of the scriptures - and all true, because he's eating. You can't get more alive than that.

And we eat, also. At the Eucharist, we eat the bread of his body and drink the wine of his blood, "that we may evermore dwell in him, and he, in us."  You can't get more alive than that.

- KATHRYN BROCK

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

Peas and carrots

"There was not a needy person among them." Acts 4:34

In March, I was blessed to spend five days in Taizé, a monastic community in southern France. What I found was a simplicity that my soul had been craving. This simplicity grew out of the daily cycle of prayer, fellowship over meals, Bible study, and work.

It grew out of the connections among people from all over the world coming together in a single expression of Christian identity. We sang in one another's languages. We took Communion together. We talked and laughed and cried. We sat in silence with one another. 

At Taizé, the strength of community was palpable, even though the accommodations were nothing to write home about. We never had a chair to sit in; instead we sat on the floor or on benches. My back hurt a lot.

Our meals were sparse: often a simple bowl of peas and carrots with bread and cheese. I was convinced I needed more food. Our showers were lukewarm and we had to press a button every 30 seconds to keep the water running. It made me grumpy. The weather was rainy and damp. I was cold.

But here is the point. We always had what we needed. We had shelter and food. We had water and a place to rest. Truly, we were never in need-but we did have to shift our expectations.

At Taizé, you can't rely on the typical comforts of home, but you really don't need them. The beauty of the people and the common exploration of our Christian faith provided all the comfort we needed.

When my five days were over, I didn't want to leave.  I had come to truly appreciate those bowls of peas and carrots.

- EMILY COBB

Re-published from “spirit”, St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

Intentions

Several years ago, in a television interview, David Frost asked three famous folks, "What would you like to have appear on your epitaph?"

It was a brilliant question for it led all to consider what was most imporant to them, what they were living for. Gone were the well-rehearsed statements. Each person spoke in grand terms about love and bettering the lives of others, and even serving God.

I wasn't cynical about their answers. I believe they desired and intended those things for their lives. But here is the great irony that the most important things in life are also the most easily postponed.

We need to be reminded again and again that the only day we have been given -- today -- is made for more. I don't want to share the fate of the man who was given the famous epitaph, "Born a man, died a grocer," or "Born a man, died a priest," or "Born a woman, died a lawyer." It makes one shudder to think our lives could be so summarized.

Death is a profound teacher, and from it we can learn important lessons. We will learn to tend to the little things today and savor them, whether a walk on the beach, or the taste of a good wine. If we are led to ponder the purpose of our life, we will tend to the big things today. We won't postptone the healing of our relationships with one another or the deepening of our relationship with God.

For if we've tended to the little things and the big ones, we will discover that maybe we didn't do all we intended to do, but we did build an abundant life.

- THOMAS R. SMITH

 

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

What is real?

What is real? Of course there are many definitions for the word, but when I looked up "real," one definition stood out most prominently. Merriam-Webster defines "real" as "Fundamental. Essential."  

 

What are those things that are fundamental and essential to our existence? Air, certainly. Water. Sustenance of some sort. Protection from elements and enemies. What about God? Should God be included in that list?

 

After spending three years with Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, our spiritual formation program for young children, I can say without a doubt that God is the very core of those things which are fundamental and essential to our life.  

 

In my training for this formation program, I remember being baffled by the inclusion of geography in the curriculum Why does a three-year-old need to know where Bethlehem is in relation to Nazareth or Jerusalem? Or where we are on a globe? How could that possibly mean anything?   

 

As the adults in this training discussed the geography presentations, it became increasingly clear: geography is included because Jesus is a real person in a real time and a real place.

 

Jesus actually lived in Nazareth and traveled throughout the region. 

 

Sometimes as adults I think we get so caught up in the metaphysical aspects of Christ-the sacrifice, the love, the healing-that we lose sight of the fact that Jesus was incarnate. He was an actual person, who actually spoke, and lived, died, and rose again. 

 

I think that is the gift of Catechesis to the child: to be able to simultaneously know without a shadow of a doubt that Jesus not only lived in a real, historical sense, but also continues to live and thrive in each of us in a real, essential and fundamental way. 

 

- ABIGAIL WHORLEY

 

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

The Holy Name

Heavenly Father, speak to us as you spoke to Moses. Bless us and keep us; make your countenance shine upon us and give us peace. We exalt your name in all the world. You have made us but little lower than the angels; you adorn us with glory and power. As children of God, we then also are heirs.   At Communion, let us behold what we are and let us become what we receive. And not only at the rail but at all times let that same mind be in us that was also in Christ Jesus.   We are shepherds, the sons and daughters of those who abided in the fields and watched over their flocks by night. We, too, in heart and mind can go to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place. Two millenia after the birth, we, even we, behold Mary, Joseph and the child lying in a manger.   And on this day especially we worship Jesus Christ, according to his holy name.    - TODD CULBERTSON   Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

A modest proposal for Thanksgiving

By Ken McCarthy

Thanksgiving is, hands down, my favorite holiday.

It doesn’t compel frantic gift giving (like the commercialized version of Christmas).

It doesn’t promote excessive alcohol consumption and forced gaiety (like New Year’s Day).

In fact Thanksgiving is so laid back, it doesn’t even require that folks exchange cards.

Instead, Thanksgiving celebrates the basics: food, family, and friends and the deep fun that accompanies taking the time to enjoy life’s simple pleasures.

As icing on the cake, Thanksgiving encourages us – in its characteristically quiet and understated way – to take note of the things in our lives that are positive.

— Gratitude is power

Continue at http://kenmccarthy.com/nb/a-modest-proposal-for-thanskgiving

To be Chrisitian is to Love

I don't like the way the word "Christian" is so often used.  It commonly is employed as a statement of specialness, and the converse that accompanies that usage -- a statement of exclusion. 

I don't like the way some people place others into one of two groups, Christians and non-Christians. Nor do I believe that Jesus Christ himself would have used this word as the guardhouse of a gated community. 

Indeed, in the Bible, Christ never seemed particularly drawn to those who characterized themselves as religiously astute.  He was interested in, and found merit in, the lives of those judged by others to be non-noteworthy. He spent his time with those whom others marginalized. He was moved by those who saw no barriers to his love. 

Accordingly, whenever I hear others proclaiming a person or a group as outside the "Christian" community, I pause. Where others point the finger of disdain, that is where I think God is oftentimes asking me to look, to learn, and ... to love.

- MARK J. KRUDYS

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

Listening to God Whisper

I turned 50 last week.  The approach of the big day prompted some self-reflection.  An image that continually came to mind was a house made of cow dung that I visited while on a pilgrimage to South Africa with others from St. Stephen's.  I enjoyed speaking with the home's occupant, an older woman, but I also knew that I would be leaving the home at the end of our conversation.  She would not be leaving; she is likely still there.

I remember sitting in the home and thinking, "Why does she live here and I live in an affluent U.S. suburb?"  "Why is this her life?"  And, "Was I just plain lucky and she was not?"  In between these thoughts, I noticed that she smiled at me, was very gracious, and was focused on me and my comfort in her home.  I tried to live up to her sense of hospitality, but I am sure that at some point I glanced at my watch.

Thereafter, we played soccer outside the home with two little ones.  They shrieked in happiness when they scored.   The woman smiled back at us as she stood tightly against her home, shielded from the intense midday African sun by a small, galvanized-steel eave.

On the flight back, as I watched the computer image of our plane creep across the Atlantic, I felt tugged in opposite directions.  On the one hand, I wanted to immediately change the woman's "plight." I wanted to reverse the inequities.  On the other hand, I wanted to learn how she smiled so genuinely in a house built of dung.

I'd like her to know that the impact she and her life had on me did not end the moment I drove away.  I hope that someday, I too can hear what God has whispered into her ear. 

- MARK KRUDYS

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

Pentecost

At the risk of seeming cute, I am struck by one syllable in the word Pentecost. That is "cost." There is a cost in claiming Jesus as our Lord. For the disciples on that glorious day of Pentecost, the cost was far from their minds. Yet many of them would go on to be martyrs for the faith.

The Roman occupiers of Palestine would decide that some of these disciples were troublemakers like Jesus and crucify them. Others would be stoned to death or become part of Roman entertainments that included the gruesome torturing of Christians. Some Christians today face life-threatening persecutions in places such as Pakistan, China, Egypt, Iran, Sudan, and other countries especially in Africa and Asia. 

In the west, the cost of discipleship is not so dramatically high. But western Christians are called to be martyrs (the Greek word means "witness") as well. We are called to live a life of faith as Jesus proclaimed, care for the poor, seeking justice for all people, turning our lives away from worship of false gods (possessions, money, drugs...) and toward the worship of the true God.

Our social milieu, on the other hand, woos us toward self-interest, the accumulation of stuff, and looking out for "number one." The messages are subtle, seductive, and so easy to go along with, like sheep to the shearing. But Christ's call is clear, love God and love your neighbor. 

At first the cost may not seem so high, until the culture works on us. The cost in living over/against the cultural norms can be crippling. We may feel like an outsider and be viewed as eccentric or strange. We may not get into the best clubs, or be invited to the nicest parties. Of course, all of this is a small price compared to what the first disciples faced after Pentecost.

But our witness, our martyrdom, is just as important.

- GENE LECOUTEUR

Re-published from "spirit", St. Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA

Ah, thank you God!

My father is an enthusiastic outdoorsman and when we were younger he would often take my siblings and me on day hikes near our home in southwest Virginia.  On one such trip, after working our way up a particularly steep and difficult stretch of trail we reached the peak of the mountain, sweaty and breathing hard.

As we stepped out of the woods onto the rocky overlook, a calm breeze began to blow.  "Ah, thank you God!" my father exclaimed, closing his eyes and smiling.  I loved my dad, but, like most teenagers, I often found him to be a little...weird. I mean, thought my 13-year old self, who prays Thanks for the wind? 

Now, I am 29 and have developed a more mature sense of the world and a stronger relationship with God. When I retell this story I have a different understanding of what my father meant when he thanked God that day on the mountain. I don't doubt that he appreciated the breeze after finishing such a grueling hike. 

But with that one spoken sentence, I believe my father was actually expressing overwhelming gratitude for everything that he was experiencing at that moment. "Thank you God for this day of leisure. For time with my children.  For our healthy and able bodies."

I am inspired by that sort of wholehearted appreciativeness.  This year I will focus on truly connecting with the blessings that I receive on a daily basis.  I want to become so confident that I voice my thanks to God whenever I feel the urge, no matter who is around to hear me. 

Thank you, God!

- MARY ASHBURN DARBY

Re-published from "spirit", St Stephen's Episcopal Church, Richmond, VA