Holy Week Journal

Last night: Maundy Thursday, "maundy" from a word meaning commandment. Jesus gives us the new commandment, to love one another, so people will see how much God loves them.

Grace Episcopal Church and Iglesia Episcopal Betania (Bethany Episcopal Church) continue their life together by sitting down to supper. The tables are set up in the church, in the shape of a "T" cross. During the supper we hear the story of the Passover, from Exodus 12:1-14. After supper, we hear the gospel of John 13:1-17, 31b-35, of how Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, to show them HOW we are to love one another and all people. We are to become servants of all people. We are not to behave any more highly than our master, Jesus, who, as a slave, washed the disciples' feet.

After, a child reads the words of the institution of the Last Supper from 1Corinthians 11:23-26. We say our prayers for the world, confess our sins, are forgiven, and pass the peace with one another. We hear again the story of the last supper, bless the bread and wine, and share the body and blood of Christ.

The scriptures say, of the disciples after the supper,
"Then they sang a hymn and went out to the garden to pray.
Despues de cantar los salmos, salieron al monte de los Olivos."

So the people begin to read the psalms that would have been traditional after such a supper: 113 through 118. As they pray these psalms together, in both English and Spanish, the altar guild is busy stripping the church of all ceremonial religious items. The tabernacle, in which the bread and wine is reserved for taking to the sick, is emptied - Jesus is not there. They are placed on the side chapel altar and draped. On Good Friday, at the evening service, all of these remains of consecrated bread and wine will be consumed.

On Good Friday morning, the children will come together from Iglesia Betania, Iglesia San Lucas y San Pablo Bridgeport, and Grace, for the Walk to Easter - a pageant from Palm Sunday to the Resurrection, in which all the children participate. Meanwhile, the adults will meditate on the Seven Last Words of Christ.

I wonder how many people realize what was done 2000 years ago, which we remember, which we re-member, relive, every year? It is now a cliche to say that without taking part in the Holy Week services, including the Great Vigil of Easter Saturday night, Easter Day service is just another Sunday service.

All I can say is, no adult who comes on Good Friday morning to the Walk to Easter remains unchanged as the children take up the cross, lay it on their shoulders, and together walk to the tomb. And what they see there will have to wait for another post.

Holy Tuesday

Clergy renewal of ordination vows, preceded by a stations walk from the cathedral to the capital building.

On such a holy day, I deleted yet another creepy "anonymous" comment from the previous post. I wonder what it's like inside the head of the trolls on the internet who troll for blog posts on which they can leave demeaning screeds. If it takes time for you to see your comment on a blog post, it is due to these people for whom I feel terribly sorry because they are so full of anger, and I have to preview all comments in order to filter them out and leave them voiceless because their comments are creepy. Sadly, while I protect readers from them, I'm assaulted by their hit-and-run maneuvers while I am determining their comment must be deleted. And I'm sure the trolls are well pleased that I feel assaulted by their words. That's their whole point.

It's not true that, while sticks and stones may break my bones, words can never hurt me. I learned that when I was a child. It's a lie.

Today we pray in opposition to the death penalty as we walk the stations of the cross through the streets of the capital city of this state. While I'm walking I shall remember the web trolls and whatever it is in them that compels them. I pray Peace for them, for you, Anonymous, that you may stop needing to leave scary comments on blogs all over the world. God's Peace.

Friday before Holy Week

"You are loved. That is all you have to know."

Thoughts for the day

I think this morning about writing a letter to the editor of The Hour. I watch a documentary on PBS about Rose Mapendo, a Tutsi Congolese woman, separated from her daughter for 13 years because of the war in the DRC, and, having come to the U.S., spends her life between her family and the cause of worldwide reconciliation and forgiveness. She says, when we see wrong, and we ask ourselves "Who will make a difference", we must, always, look at ourselves and say "It is me". And please no snark about the grammar.

She calls on all women to band together for peace and reconciliation. She has since been reunited with her daughter, who joins her and her other children in Phoenix. The daughter cannot understand her younger siblings because she does not speak English. The mother, Rose, came here knowing only two words, "Yes" and "No", and she often used them in ways opposite to their meaning. She can now speak enough English to give talks and interviews about reconciliation. It reminds me of our U.S. American impatience with immigrants who speak their own language and are not facile in U.S. English.

Rose, who saw her husband killed, her twins born in a death camp, who named the twins after the two military leaders of the camp in order to save their lives, she who saw horror after horror, she militates for reconciliation.

And I thought of the Spanish speaking and other immigrants here in Norwalk. I think about how prevalent prejudice still is, we who have an icon in the harbor of New York inviting all the world to come here for freedom, we say, "provided you give up your language, your culture, and blend into us. Oh yes, and you'd better be 'legal' ". I like to level the playing field, learning to speak Spanish and struggling to hold a conversation. I get a feel of what is it like to be an outsider.

But what would I say in a letter to The Hour. Rose says "Without sacrifice, nothing can be done". I would find words to say that I am willing to sacrifice my good name to advocate for immigrants unconditionally. I would say, "In God you are welcome, invited, beloved, and so I can do no less than that with you". I would like to say it is the same for institutions. Change comes hard. Change comes slowly. Fear of the other is not conquered by law or religion. So what can I say?

Dear people of Norwalk, Please embrace with unconditional love all those in this city who are not like you. For God's sake. Do not turn away from even one who does not look like you or speak your language. All who follow God are expected to become servants to those we are accustomed to have serve us. In God, those with the power are expected to give up that power to the powerless. In God, your fear of immigrants can be overcome, if you will allow it. My experience is that people are people, regardless of language, culture, past, present, or future. Please, I beg you, give up prejudice, and the expectations that come with prejudice, that all who come here must become just like us or be looked down upon.

That letter may never be written.

Maybe, instead, I would write, "I have been taking part in being a conversation partner with Spanish speaking day laborers here in Norwalk who are learning English. I have been humbled in my own prejudices and expectations through this work. I am learning what it means to love my neighbor as myself. People are people. For all our differences of culture, language, religion, and world-view, all people are beloved of God; all are equal; all are precious; all are our neighbors. For those who love God, there is no place for prejudice. I am grateful for the opportunity to face down the prejudices I have found in myself. May I become an instrument of peace and reconciliation. Thank you, day laborers, for teaching me this, just by being yourselves. Peace be with you."

As Rose prays, "Holy Father, change our hearts."

Sermon for Lent 5 March 25 2012

Here is the link to the Spanish version of the sermon for Lent 5 at Grace Episcopal, Norwalk, March 25. I do not have enough Spanish yet to write a sermon in English and translate it into Spanish. At the recommendation of my Spanish speaking co-priest in mission and ministry with a multicultural congregation, I use the Episcopal Church website, Sermons that Illumine, on the Spanish Ministry link. It is regrettable that the author of these sermons are not posted.

Here is the link to the U.S.American English version. This is not a direct translation. I do have enough Spanish to do a direct translation but the idiom is not mine nor U.S. English, so this is mostly a paraphrase written for English speaking listeners.

The text is below. As always, what I preach in English is not entirely word for word what I write. I do not have enough Spanish yet, however, to go off script. I have left the bolding of words with pronunciation accents not just because I'm too lazy to go through and unbold them, but also because I want you to know something about me, and what goes into preparing for preaching and leading a multicultural congregation. When I say multicultural, keep in mind besides Spanish speaking and English speaking we also have people from various Caribbean islands who speak English but whose culture is from various non-Spanish Caribbean islands.

Comments are invited and welcomed.

Sermon, Lent 5, March 25, 2012

The Reverend Lois Keen

Grace Episcopal Church

From The Episcopal Church web site, Archive, Latino/Hispanic Ministries, Sermones que Iluminan.

Quinto Domingo de Cuaresma Jeremías 31,31-34
Salmo 51, 11-16
Hebreos 5, 5-10
Juan 12,20-33

"¡Dame, oh Dios, un corazón limpio, crea en mí un espíritu nuevo!"

Durante las últimas cuatro semanas de esta Cuaresma hemos estado preparando nuestros corazones para lograr un corazón limpio y un espíritu renovado. A veces, hemos estado a punto de lograrlo; en otras ocasiones, hemos fallado miserablemente. Hemos fallado porque no es fácil cambiar de rumbo de vida sin un esfuerzo apoyado por la gracia de lo alto.

Con las mejores disposiciones, oímos la voz del profeta Jeremías que, desde un lejano pasado, nos anuncia que nosotros solos no podemos crear un corazón limpio, ni renovar el espíritu dentro de nuestro ser. Es el Señor Dios quien afirmó que iba a establecer un pacto nuevo con su pueblo, en el cual hubiera una Ley nueva y una relación con Dios nueva, que se inscribiría en los corazones. "Meteré mi Ley en su pecho, la escribiré en su corazón, yo seré su Dios y ellos serán mi pueblo" (Jr 29, 33).

Será lo equivalente a una nueva creación. Lo fundamental de esa creación nueva de Dios radica en que somos conscientes de quiénes somos, de dónde venimos, y a quién le pertenecemos. Según ese pacto, anunciado por Jeremías, tendríamos idea clara de quién es Dios y quiénes somos nosotros. Esa relación nueva nos mostraría una manera de vivir diferente, bajo la ley de Dios, amparados por un amor divino que sobrepasa todo entendimiento.

Sería un tipo de "huella" que identificaría todo nuestro ser. Así como un patito o un polluelo, nada más nacer sigue fielmente a su mamá porque hay algo en su interior que se lo dicta. Según el pacto nuevo todos sabrían que: "Yo seré su Dios y ellos serán mi pueblo".

Al leer esto, podríamos pensar: ¿Cómo sería una sociedad así? ¿Sería posible que dejáramos de idolatrar a nuestro mundo: trabajo, estado de vida, familia, propiedades? ¿Sería posible que sólo Dios fuera nuestro Dios, y nosotros su pueblo? Teniendo en cuenta que somos rebeldes y desobedientes, ¿qué tendría que cambiar para que nosotros fuéramos el pueblo perdonado que pertenece a Dios? Tendríamos que cambiar radicalmente. ¡Qué triste si nuestro actuar durante esta Cuaresma se opone a pedirle a Dios un corazón limpio y un espíritu renovado!

Tal vez actuemos movidos por la curiosidad como los griegos que se acercaron a Felipe y le dijeron: "Queremos ver a Jesús". La fama de Jesús tenía que haberse extendido por el mundo griego para que unos filósofos se sintieran picados por la curiosidad de ver a Jesús.

Felipe y Andrés comunicaron a Jesús que alguien quería verle. Jesús, como si no hubiera oído, siguió hablando de su próxima muerte. Al principio, tal actitud pudiera parecer un tanto desorientadora, pero en el fondo nos revela algo profundo. En primer lugar, desear ver a Jesús supone ya un acuciante en el corazón. Por ello, después de la entrevista no se permanecerá indiferente. Segundo, ver a Jesús no debe ser sólo motivo de curiosidad, sino de estar espoleado por preguntas de grave responsabilidad. Esto es lo que implica ver a Jesús: implica escuchar su palabra hasta conocerle. En otras palabras, implica seguirle hasta dar la vida si es necesario.

Estar en relación con Dios, tener un corazón limpio, tener un espíritu renovado, es tanto como querer ver a Jesús y quedar por él transformado.

Conocer a Jesús es decir con fe "que se haga su voluntad". Eso es lo que implica el pacto nuevo. Esa es la única relación que va a crear en nosotros un corazón limpio y un espíritu renovado. Dicho con otras palabras, es un llamado a morir para vivir. Un vivir totalmente diferente. No de este mundo. Hoy es el último domingo de Cuaresma, que Dios nos dé la gracia de ver a Jesús de una manera nueva, y el valor para abrir nuestros labios y proclamar que de la muerte viene la vida verdadera.

In English:

“Create in us clean hearts, O God, and renew a right spirit within us.”

The English version of this sermon is not a direct translation but my paraphrase of the Spanish in order for it to be in my voice.

In our various ways, we all try to prepare to receive a new heart and a renewed spirit within ourselves, especially during Lent. Sometimes we feel we are making progress. Other times we are certain we have failed miserably. It is not easy to change ourselves without the grace of God. And allowing the grace of God to change us means giving up control of how and into what we will be transformed.

Still, the prophet Jeremiah reminds us it is God alone who does this, who says “I will put my law in your chest, and write it in your heart.” It is God who establishes a new covenant, God who puts the law into our hearts, God who creates a new relationship between us and God.

This new relationship is like a new creation. The essence of this new creation is that we become aware of who we are in God, where we come from, and to whom we belong. In this new relationship we will live differently than we do now. The law written in our heart, the renew spirit in which putting love of God and love of neighbor as the basis for everything we do, will be like a fingerprint, identifying our whole being as God’s possession.

With a clean heart and a renewed spirit, we will be like baby ducklings who imprint on their mother and by instinct follow her around. Under the new covenant everyone will know that God will be their God, and they shall be God’s people.

You might ask how the world will be different under the new covenant. It’s hard to say, since no entire people has given themselves over to God to do this. So ask yourself what truly good things in this world have become idols to you? To us? Work, quality of life, property, sports, March Madness? An idol is something we put ahead of God’s will, on purpose or unconsciously. Even the Bible, or the Book of Common Prayer, or Church or family can become idols, if our use of or participation in them becomes about us and what we want, and not about God as the one and only focus of all life. We are no less stiff necked, stubborn or rebelious than the Hebrew people in the desert after escaping from Egypt. We get anxious when God seems absent and we go about, making golden calves.

Can we let God remake us? How radically would our lives change? I wonder what radical changes would be made in this world that needs those changes so badly. We may actually be living in opposition to God unless we can at least want to want to be willing to let God give us clean hearts and a renewed spirit. Our only hope, in this case, is that all people are forgiven; all people belong to God, and so do we, even though all we may have are good intentions to have God transform and renew us and our lives.

Some Greeks come to Philip and say to him, “We want to see Jesus.” Maybe they are only asking out of curiousity. Jesus’s fame has spread to the Greek speakers and it would not be unusual for the philosophers among them to be curious about him.

Whatever reasons the Greek speakers have for asking to meet Jesus, Philip and Andrew deliver the message that some people are asking for him. And how does Jesus answer?

“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it...Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.”

Jesus goes on as though he hasn’t even heard Andrew and Philip. Instead, he simply continues with his gospel. This seems strange, and yet it reveals something profound for us.

We and the Greeks are curious about Jesus. We and the Greeks want to follow him. He is already pressing on our hearts. So, if we and the Greeks do get an interview with Jesus, we will not be indifferent to what he says.

And what he says tells us we must not ask to see Jesus only out of curiousity. Hearing Jesus is to be known by Jesus. And to follow him means to go where he is going, and he is going to his death.

To ask God to give us a new heart and a renewed spirit is to ask to follow Jesus, even unto death, the death of all in us that keeps us from being seed that bears fruit. To ask to meet Jesus is to ask to be transformed.

Jesus knows where he is going and the consequences, and still he says to God, “Your will be done, not mine”. This is the implication of the covenant God has made with us. We are called to die in order to live. For some of us it means to live differently. For all of us it implies living in this world but not of this world.

Next week begins Holy Week. We will walk with Jesus through the last days of his life. May I not be simply a curious spectator or a bystander. May we all be given the grace to see Jesus’s last days in a new way. May we be given the spirit to understand the great mystery of the good news of Jesus Christ, that death is the true life.

Serious and still here

Updated

On Wednesday I met with my colleague at Grace and Betania churches, the Spanish speaking missioner with Betania. We meet the the bishop for Spanish speaking churches in our diocese next week. We will make a strategy for meeting with one of the agencies in the city who have been wanting to settle in much of the church long-term in return for reasonable regular donations. And a congregation of Spanish speaking Pentecostal Christians is looking for a home and we are in a position to consider that with them. Tentative date for the sit down is tomorrow.

The end result is in God's hands, so far as God is given to work through we the servants of God. The place where I serve is outward-focused, a resource for the community at large and for the diocese. The building is busy every day, all week, with organizations from this multicultural community. If, in order to continue to be of use in God's mission of reconciliation and restoration, the congregation responsible for this building needs to give up some things that have long been theirs, the only alternative is to close and send the community away to fend for itself.

It is possible, and plans were made over ten years ago under my predecessor twice removed, to recast the worship space for multipurpose use. Doing this would free up the rest of this considerable building for long-term sharing by organizations in a position to make reasonable contributions to help defray the cost of keeping the building open and running.

So, imagine this. We have a very large worship space, built in 1964, in the a-frame style. The traditional altar/choir area was renovated over ten years ago to be a stage appropriate for liturgical theatre, and where the choir and organ are, and where the altar was until we moved it to the main floor. The ultimate next stage would be to remove all the pews and replace them with chairs, and to demarcate the ordinary worship space in the back two bays of the nave, plus the balcony, with a row of four potted trees on wheeled platforms. The altar is already moveable, being a beautiful, craftsman table. For weddings and funerals the trees could be moved, and the altar brought to the front where it is now. For the rest of the time the space could be available for all the groups that currently meet in the classrooms, undercroft hall, and Memorial Room. The Children's Spirituality Center would move from the office wing to the Chapel. The open space east of the row of trees could have a conversation/meeting/classroom area with comfy furniture, whatever. The sky is the limit.

Everything could be moved away to permit the entire nave to be used for meals.

Grants will need to be written to defray the cost of all this. It will not be the million or so dollars needed for structural changes. There are no structural changes planned. The organ is on a platform that is on rollers. It would cost money to move it off the stage, down two steps to the main floor, to open up that space to be available to churches and other non-profits that don't have the space we have to mount concerts and other programs. It would also cost money to move the cross at the east end of the church to hang, instead, from a crossbeam in the center of the nave, and that is not a necessary move. Mostly we would need money for new chairs for worship, new folding tables, new folding chairs for group meetings and meals, the four trees, their upkeep, and interior glass doors, on the inside of the current front doors to the church, so that the front doors can be open all the time without letting all the heat out.

Now, is this appropriate matter for a blog post? Why not - it's my blog! ( chuckle ) Anyway, this is a dream that predates my term here, and suddenly, circumstances are pushing it to the forefront and it just may come true.

Now all we have to do is figure out how to pay for the privilege of having clergy. That's another dream, because if, instead of being the clergyperson for a congregation, I were to found a center for spiritual development and seek grant funding to support myself in that, and be housed at the church where I serve... Well, you get the picture. With God, all things are possible, if I, we, don't panic and run away.

UPDATE: I forgot the chair lift - you know, one of those chairs that rides up a staircase. We need one to go up one of the stairways to the balcony.

Growing pains

A friend has posted about the in between time of now and change. Here is his post.

I linked to this post because last night I began to feel that sort of shift and it left me wanting to cry.

I serve in a place where things could end at any time. Or at least by the end of the year. I have been reticent to really make a full court press on looking for the next call, the next place to do ministry. I've updated my file on the church's national website, and I've talked vaguely with my bishop about whether it is time to move on or not, and I've even been searched by one church. (I made the first interview cut but not the second. And that's okay.)

But I've been holding back for the sake of the congregation I serve. Yesterday I realized, once again, that I'm not in control of the universe. Neither is God, so far as I can tell, but at the same time I realized that I've held back from trusting God in the process of calling - that is, in the process of being open to a new position. I've been saying to myself that I must hang in with this congregation, and I have forgotten that this congregation is dependent on God, not me, for their survival. And that if God is depending on me for the sake of this congregation, so be it, and if not, so be it.

I had not yet acted on this realization, that it is time to really begin the work of searching and being open for the next call. Last night I did my weekly hour and a half at the New Day Center for Day Laborers, facilitation English conversation with Spanish speaking immigrant people. When I left, as I was driving through the Spanish speaking part of town, and looked at the houses and the stores and the little, dilapidated storefront Iglesia de Dios, I felt great sadness well up in me.

I had felt, as I got into the car, inadequate to the task of teaching English, and in that, I felt humbled, and it felt right to be humble in this way. I am not the ultimate teacher. I am a teacher doing her best. That's all, and that's enough. But now, as I'm waiting at the intersection in front of Iglesia de Dios, I'm crying because my next call may not be in a place where I can do what has become so integral to ministry as I have been called to do here in this place. And, I am afraid, at the same time, that as congregations read my profile and interview me, they will not like that I am currently deeply involved with Spanish speaking immigrants and decide I'm not a good fit.

But all that aside, leaving here will be leaving a place where I have found myself, and a passion that matches with my innate rebelliousness - working with and serving with and being changed by people many in my country would rather be invisible or gone.

I'm not expressing myself very well, I know. It's hard to put this feeling of loss in words, I guess because all is not yet lost. It is merely the fear of loss. But there it is, living in me, and I have to know it is there while at the same time I have to begin to be serious about entering discernment to see if I must move on.