Ubi Caritas

I had the opportunity to actually help.

A man came to me, proud but humbled, needing our help.

At the loss of his wife, he has fallen upon difficult times. A fascinating man, born in China, with a Russian name, he fought in WWII, made a life for himself, married, lost, loved again, lost, lived and stayed vital. An oversight almost two decades old threatens his ability to live in dignity.

What is the strange power that exists within each of us to love another human being and whence the joy at being able to help? I felt the joy today in a way that hadn't been true with some of the other instances in which help was sought. Was it the lack of judgment? Was it the sorrowful pride? Was it the fact that I got to go on vacation (Beginning friday) with a bit of good-deed shine on my face?

Promising and delivering Lord, grant that each day may bring into our lives not just the opportunity to love and to serve your creation, since the opportunities are with us every day, but also the humility to see your face in those whose need is greatest, whose heart is broken, whose dignity and ability to live abundantly is at risk and to answer out of the Gospel message of love first. Grant us the heart that loves foolishly, risking everything for the sake of the lowest and meanest of all. 

Feeling really energized

I truly hope that everyone’s Lent-Holy week went about as well as ours did here in Callifornia.

Each week brought new challenges, a lot of which would have been solved by a good decongestant for the liturgist on Wednesdays (yours truly), but attendance at the suppers was good, attendance at services was good, Holy Week was very moving and wonderful, each day having it’s own dignity and power but all of them leading to the empty tomb. Now that we are all walking away from the empty tomb with Mary it is time to get moving again, after a week or so of relative relaxation, office cleaning etc.

I suppose that others in the congregation could give their impressions (don’t worry, I stand in front of a couple hundred people each week and pour out my heart, you can’t embarass me with honest commentary, so write something!) and they might disabuse me of some of my “glow” but I really don’t care, it worked well, people came and heard the word, is there something more I should be seeking?

I didn’t think so

Creaky knees

Yup, I got 'em.

regaining my feet after washing the feet of some members of the congregation (and having mine washed in return) is getting harder. but the feeling of having someone give you their foot to wash, allow you that level of intimacy with them, and then to say "bless you" before you can get it out yourself. . . . it was very moving

I had a number of people beg off ( I got some people to volunteer in advance so I could use them as "plants" to get some of the more reluctant folks to come forward) with the usual words, about being ticklish or shy or about having stinky feet.

I must try harder to teach them that <i>that</i> is the point in it for me, and for us as a community. Not about being bold or about being afraid or shamed,but about being willing to try, to trust in the spirit that guides and moves us all so that we can feel in each others' hands and feet, the love of Christ expressed one person to another. In this there is no shame, no hurt and no fear,just trust in the love of God inhabiting the person washing your feet, or in the person giving their feet to be washed.

 

 

 

 

Passionate Savior, guide our feet to the basins of those who love us, and then fill our hearts to go and grab basins of our own. Remind us of how beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news,who announces salvation, who says to Zion, your God reigns.

No more mister Nice Guy

I'm tired of just writing about the vicissitudes of ministry, I actually have a political or social thing to say as well. It may not always be pretty, but it'll always be honest, it's called Exousia, check it out!

At Last!

Now that all of that silly "March Madness" is over we can get down to business.

Baseball season has begun

(now who to root for?) (Go Saints!)

Being there

I had a colleague ask if I would care for someone while he was away. They're former members of the church (and I've met more in the process of visiting) and she is dying.

It called back to the days of chaplaincy when I walked into the room, dressed in civies since it was my night to have dinner with my family. She had reached the stage where it was a choice between comfort and consciousness, the pain had grown so severe.

There is something humbling about being asked to enter into someone else's moment of greatest pain. Even the words of scripture seem less profound in the face of the love so evident in a grieving spouse's face and voice. We commended her to the Lord and shared that moment, knowing that the promises of Baptism are the rock to which we cling, but that they do not make the storm go away. I remembered something Jan Ramsey said in Pastoral Care class, about how it is the loss of stories that brings its own special kind of grief. Now the stories of their life together were at an end and new stories would have to be dreamed and lived.

I think now about what a privelege it is to be allowed into these moments. Even more than Baptism, which is trust given movement; to be present at grief, to be given the opportunity to carry the love of God into that moment and simply allow it to be, honoring the moment while reminding all present of the promise, always the promise.

Lord of life, when you told Philip and Andrew that the hour had come, did they understand? Do we understand the extravagance of the love given us that day, that hour? Keep us in that love, that frame around our lives, not to keep things out or to keep things in but rather to keep things in perspective since it is at the edges of what we are that we need you most. In our centers, our comfortable spots we find mostly ourselves and too often we are satisfied with that, but at our edges, where we become frazzled and begin to unravel we feel the fear of our smallness, our death and so your hand rests lightly on those edges, reminding us that there is more story to tell. Grant that we may all feel in our lives the love that leans in and kisses the forehead of the beloved, tears flowing unashamedly as our hearts turn toward you.