Category Archives: observation

Word Change

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Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.

It is right to give (him/God/our) thanks and praise.

What we say depends on the church we are in. Some churches stick with the original him – either for reasons of tradition or for the comfort of the worshipers.

In other churches, the original him has been altered to a gender neutral God. God isn’t male or female, or God is both male and female, so using a proper noun instead of a gendered pronoun is one way of reflecting this truth. Another might be to alternate between saying him and her.

In still other congregations, the direct object of our thanks and praise disappears, replaced by an our to describe the thanks and praise. A genderless plural adjective reflects the worshipers; God as the object of our thanks and praise is implied from the sentence above.

The word change is important, but I don’t think it’s the heart of the exchange. For me, it’s the call to thank God and praise God every minute, every day, every week. There are no exceptions. It is right to thank God and praise God, regardless of our particular circumstances on any given day.

There’s a theological idea that says humanity’s special place in creation has nothing to do with our geographical or temporal location in the last few seconds of a billions of years old creation process. As self conscious and articulate creatures, it is our responsibility and privilege to be the universe’s self-awareness. We are the universe knowing itself as a beloved creation. There is no other response to this self-knowledge than humility; there is no other response to the God who created everything than praise and thanks.

For such a truth, perhaps It is right to give God our thanks and praise would be best…

Uplifting

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Lift up your hearts.

We lift them to the Lord.

At any graduation, baptism, sporting event, or concert you are likely to see them: parents lifting their children over their heads or onto their shoulders. Without a higher perch, most children would see only a collection of legs, wallets, belts, and shoes. There’s no way for them to see over the crowds without a willing, caring adult giving them a lift. The littlest and youngest of us would never see the diplomas handed out, the singer or actor, winning shot or the newly baptized baby without moving to a higher location.

I think the same is true with prayers and worship. If someone doesn’t remind me to lift up my heart, I doubt I’d ever see past the forest of liturgical words to catch sight of Jesus.

Everything Old is New (Again)

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The thing that has been is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: there is no new thing under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9

This is the time of year to clean out the basement, swap the winter wardrobe for summer duds, and get the yard and garden beds set for summer. It’s also the last few weeks of the school year and the return of summer jobs, weekend traffic, and lots of Cape Cod tourists. All these things happen every year, and they’ve been happening around me for decades. The Teacher was right when he wrote there is no new thing under the sun. He was also terribly wrong.

There are seasons and patterns that structure my world. These are reliable, a renewable and dependable foundation that holds my days as I walk this earth. At the same time, it is impossible to repeat anything because everything is in constant motion – planets spin, galaxies are born and die, every living thing moves in one temporal direction. I get second chances to love, to serve, to seek joy or wallow in pain; I cannot go back in time to change decisions and actions. Renewal, transformation, continuation – each surfaces in the unique instances that move from my present into my memory. If I am humble and quiet, I see the grace of each day and give thanks; if I am distracted and forgetful, I can’t see beyond my own immediate wants and needs.

But those thoughts aren’t really that important today. Returning books to the library, I saw a newborn in his mother’s arms. The sage in the corner garden is covered with more buds than I’ve ever seen. My son and I saw seagulls hovering in front of us – a miracle of aviation for the price of some stale bread.

I am so glad that there is no new thing under the sun – there’s so much wonder already.

I’m so glad that everything is happening for the first and only time – today is a once in a lifetime experience.

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Thank you for the world so sweet, Lord. Amen

Photo by Jared Fredrickson

Weighted

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Weight is taking up a lot more space in my mind than usual. I bought a kitchen scale last month because weighing baking ingredients is more accurate than measuring them with cups and teaspoons. My doctor’s scale found a few extra pounds on me, so I’ll be more careful about how much I eat until they are gone. Helping my son’s college friend move reminded me that box size isn’t as important as what’s inside. When I write, and when I speak as a teacher or tutor, I weigh my words carefully. Weight matters.

Heavy. Light. Evenly distributed. Out of balance. Over. Under. Feather and paper: these mean something specific when they refer to weight. And weight means something for me physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Since the weight of things is on my mind, I’m trying something new. I am going measure it all with a spiritual scale.

My physical weight determines whether I feel comfortable in my clothes and it affects how my body works. Spiritually, it tells me that I need to be more mindful of how I care for my soul’s home in this world.

What weighs on my mind is usually is something I choose, and definitely something I can change. Am I spending too much time preoccupied with matters of little weight? Am I giving more time and energy to what makes me world weary, or what carries true meaning? Centering prayer is a good way of lightening and rebalancing my mental content.

I think weighing my emotional baggage on a spiritual scale is a good way to let go of whatever is useless or harmful. Resentment is a burden that adds nothing to me or the larger world. Anger, jealousy, envy – such vices are so heavy to carry.

I want to walk lightly through this adventure that is my life. Every so often, that means dropping some weight…

Tipping the Scales

Continuing and New

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In an average church, on a run-of-the-mill rainy yesterday, something routine and new happened. I joined sixty others in a confirmation service, promising to guide and support five teens in their newly claimed adult faith. And those five teens promised to guide and support me in mine. I’m sure hundreds of confirmation services were held yesterday, and in each something new came into being. Services like this reveal a holy truth: All the ordinary people who sit in the pews and the ordinary ones who don’t will be transformed and renewed by the holy, ordinary lives of these five teens.

These five teens will soon realize (if they don’t already) that the true spiritual guides aren’t necessarily the ones with the highest education, the paid ministry, or the most volunteer hours. Some are in their church and some have never set foot in any church. They might be hard to spot. Just as true: many adults may miss seeing in them the holy prophets and spiritual guides because they still walk high school corridors. But I know and I trust that these five young people can and will wake up each day with the ability and opportunity to hallow this world of mine. And because it’s true for them, it’s also and always true for me and every other soul.

The earth was renewed yesterday, the earth is renewed today. The continuing advent of unique renewal is alive and well.

New World(s)

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She knows she passed two of the exams and will find out about two more soon. The fifth will take some work. Her reward: a high school equivalency diploma. Such a small piece of paper, such a tremendous difference. Opportunities requiring that piece of paper open up for her; better jobs and possibilities for ongoing education are hers.

But something else is happening, something invisible to most of the world. Her internal script is being rewritten. The one that names her Drop-Out, Quitter, Incapable is discarded. Hard Worker, Graduate, Capable, and Dedicated are the new adjectives found in the new script. She is made new again.

I believe miracles happen every day, but I don’t notice most of them. But God has let me see this one, and my world is forever changed because I’ve beheld it.

 

A Closer Look

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It’s the second half of Holy Week. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday stand between me and Easter – the path through the dark woods of my soul. I didn’t grow up in churches that observed these dark days; we went from Palm Sunday to Easter, sometimes with a Wednesday Bible study of the crucifixion, sometimes not. The sanctuary and Sunday school room crosses were always empty: why would anyone put the risen Jesus back on the cross? The resurrection already happened and there was no going back.

I understand why my childhood churches had no crucifixes, and why they emphasized celebration and victory rather than the suffering of Jesus in the garden and the grisly way he died. I can’t say that the people in those churches were any more or less faithful, any kinder or colder – the path of faith runs through all neighborhoods. But I do think something of the human condition was skipped over rather than faced – not about Jesus, but about the rest of humanity. While I hate to admit it, I doubt I’d do any better than the flawed, fragile people who stood by while Jesus died. Most everyone ran away, avoiding the whole scene. A few women and John the beloved disciple managed to stay and hear the final few words from the cross. This reveals more about myself than I usually care to see or admit. I’m no better than anyone else, and I’m just as likely to run away as anyone else. Given the right circumstances, just enough fear for my life, I would betray Jesus, too.

Holy Week isn’t a time to indulge in self loathing: it’s a time to take a long, hard look at myself – faults, strengths, and the whole mixed bag I call my inner and outer life. If I’m honest about what I see, I’ll ask for God to hold my hand as I walk this world. If I’m not, I just might fool myself into thinking I can make the walk alone.

Take my hand, O Lord, and walk with me through these dark days and nights. I need you. Amen.

Why Worship?

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A Holy Week offering from Bill Albritton

During this week, I ponder why we worship and what my faith is really about. In confirmation class, we are focusing on the two main creeds we use in our worship service. One, the Nicene Creed, is communal in that we use the plural We. The other is personal, using I as in I believe in God… What do I mean when I make such a declaration?

Saying We believe in God or I believe in God says we have a relationship with God. In other words, God’s existence doesn’t depend on my belief that God exists. It’s a whole different statement than I believe God exists.

I find this very meaningful as I prepare for Resurrection Sunday. In class, we ask ourselves: why worship? One of the answers stared us in the face – a chapter title from J. Gamber’s My Faith, My Life: A Teen’s guide to the Episcopal Church. Chapter Five is Worship: Responding to God’s Blessings. We are giving our hearts to God and declaring our thankfulness for our relationship with the most gracious One. And, as in many relationships, it grows stronger when we spend time together. Maybe that’s as good an answer as any.

For the Food We Eat

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Thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the food we eat,

Thank you for the birds that sing: thank you, God, for everything!

My husband and I went to Trader Joe’s yesterday to buy the usual items: meats, rice cakes, chili peppers, and oats. I’ll walk to Shaw’s for Cabot mozzarella and local free eggs tomorrow, and I’ll stop by the Market Basket near my son’s school for the 10 pound bag of King Arthur Flour. Sometime soon, I’ll order vanilla beans and put them in a bottle of rum to make vanilla extract. Seeds and plants will arrive at my door from John Scheeper’s and Burpee’s garden companies. I’ve noticed how much shopping it takes to put food on the table only because I decided to write about it. I didn’t realize how much shopping I do for life’s basics until I gave up buying life’s extras for Lent.

I can get everything I need at my local market and wheel it home in my metal basket. I can order any number of pantry staples and exotic spices with a click of my mouse. I have the means to put healthy food on my table, and I have the time to enjoy the whole process: creating menus, making grocery lists, shopping, cooking, and eating. All these daily blessings I take for granted.

Today I am thankful for the grocery shopping that I have to do. When the lines at the register are long, I will give thanks. When the grocery bags are heavy, I will rejoice. When I buy food for the community food pantry, I will be grateful.

I hope I remember that grocery shopping is a blessing when I start writing about something else…

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Over a plate and a glass

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I went to a funeral today. I didn’t know the man who died, but I’ve known his daughter for years. She is a gift to the town I call home, a sure and steady force for common sense and community service. Today was a chance to offer her my condolences, and to offer a prayer of thanks for the life of her father.

After the church and graveside prayers have all been said, family and friends stay together for one last holy act: sharing a meal. There are stories and memories best told over a loaded plate and a full cup, heard  most gratefully over the scrape of forks and clinking of glasses. This meal that honors a life and its loss isn’t just a nice extra. It is the first act of a family who will gather together and continue to grow, not with but because of the one who is no longer present.

I’m a stranger to the family, so I did not share their meal and stories today. But sometime soon, I’ll chop onions and carrots for soup and make a loaf of bread. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine. I’ll offer these small things to a daughter who buried her father, and I’ll tell her that I am thankful for the man who brought her into this world – a delight to God and a gift to this world. Could I say such words without the food? Perhaps. But they seem easier to say and easier to hear over a plate and a glass than on their own.