Earth Day and Easter

 

Happy Earth Day ~ consider the soil in your soul ~ the good earth from which God fashions and forms you into being.  Consider the water that renews and re- stories you.  Pause ~ how can water help you write another story that is soaked by the sacred of God’s baptismal promise to you?  Consider the birds singing, the tree of your life growing in the forest of others.  Slowly read these words:

 

God’s glory is on tour in the skies, God-craft on exhibit across the horizon.
Madame Day holds classes every morning, and Professor Night lectures each evening.

Their words aren’t heard, their voices aren’t recorded,
But their silence fills the earth: unspoken truth is spoken everywhere.  Psalm 19

 

Day and Night have something to teach and tell us.  Too often, we are tripped up and trapped by an either/or view of the world.  We classify and compartmentalize everything (and everyone).  Yet, day and night each preach and proclaim truths for our life, the Psalmist says.  Day can teach us to notice and name what we might miss when the sun sets.  Daytime can help expand our gaze beyond the intimate and immediate ~ to the horizon.  Daytime is when the subtle, even subversive, details come into focus.  And daytime can blind us if we stare at the blazing sun too long.  Daytime can lure us into complacency, especially when the surroundings are familiar.  We can push our bodies too far during the day, thinking that “we’ve gotta make hay while the sun is shining.”  Such overstimulation from over-caffeination causes our souls to grow weary and worn down.

 

Night can teach us to slow down and focus our attention on the next step, because we cannot see for miles and miles.  Nighttime reveals the stars that are always there, but are shut out because of the brighter sun.  Nighttime invites the body to reset, renew, and rest.  Night sharpens our hearing.  Night can also be when all the things we said and did that day come back for a visit ~ not always in a way we welcome or want.  At night, we can rehearse and replay a meeting where our jaw was set on edge or face the uncertainty of a medical condition.

 

What else would you add to the above lists?  What are the blessings and brokenness of day and of night?  What causes your soul to leap in joy in day and at night?  Ponder what Madame Day and Professor Night are trying to tell you?  Listen.  Lean in.  Learn from the power of every hour, for each moment is saturated and soaked with the Sacred.  Amen.

What Tree Would You Be?

 

Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season.  Psalm 1

 

I often wonder if the Psalms were written while the prophet/poet was wandering in the wilderness of the world.  Psalm 1 draws on the image of creation ~ God’s creativity seen in clouds and heard in birds and felt in breezes with the sun on our face, which in turn can infuse and inspire our imaginations of faithfulness.  When we read the Psalms inside under the hum of fluorescent lights and the breeze from air that has been filtered and conditioned with chemicals to keep us cool, we might miss the metaphor.  Please don’t hear me complaining, I couldn’t live in Florida without air conditioning!  Yet, the Psalmists lived closer to the earth, soil, dirt, and dust from which we are all made.  The soles of the Psalmist's feet touched the sandy soil of the earth, felt the fear of storms raging in their face, and knew the beauty of a starry night where no light pollution could drive away the darkness.  The Psalmist was intimately interwoven with creation.  The very first Psalm draws on the image of your life being like a tree.  This gives the reader pause:

 

What kind of tree would you like to be?  A redwood?  A sugar maple producing delicious syrup?  A dwarf willow that creeps on the ground rather than reaching for the sky?  An ordinary tree that blends into the background?  A palm tree waving in the salt sea air?

 

What would the bark of your tree feel like, look like, taste like?

 

What about the rings of your tree?  Have there been years of tremendous growth when the circle in your soul is wide and years of scarcity where the ring is narrow/tight, trying to conserve energy?

 

Today, go out and touch a tree, listening to the wisdom of creation ~ absorbing the holiness of this part of God’s creation.  Consider what is nourishing your soul?

 

Where are your roots twisted and tangled with others in the forest of life?  Your tree is connected to those in our church, neighbors, friends, family, and people whose path you cross now and again.

 

What fruit comes from your tree?  Is your fruit sweet or savory or maybe you are in winter right now, where there is no fruit, as your roots are conserving energy?  Is your fruit ready or still slowly ripening? 

 

Let this metaphor infuse and inspire your imagination, deepening your faith in these days. Amen

Resurrection and Creation

 

As we celebrate Earth Day this week, I love how the resurrection mystery and marvel happen outside the confines of air conditioning.  Resurrection doesn’t happen in cramped and confining buildings, but in the beauty of God’s creation.

 

Consider John 20, which we heard on Easter, where the setting is a garden, echoing Genesis 2 and 3.

Consider Luke 24, which we heard on Sunday: Jesus appears to Cleopas and his friend, partner, or companion on a dusty road of life.

Consider Matthew 28, The Great Commission to the disciples (who let’s face it had serious doubts about the resurrection ~ which can give us hope) happens on a mountain, echoing the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7)

Consider John 21, where Jesus cooks breakfast on a beach for the disciples, trying to process the pain and promise of being an Easter people.

 

Creation amplifies one of the formational and foundational truths of Easter because creation displays and helps us discover/discern the cycle of birth, life, death, and resurrection each year, called “The four seasons”.

 

During Lent, I invited you to ponder the season of your life connected to the image of a grape vine.  I offered a brief description of how a grapevine goes through the seasons.  Here is a reminder:

In Winter ~ the grapevine is pruned.  It is common to remove 80-90% of the biomass during pruning.  But great care is used not to cut the buds that will be next season’s growth.  It takes a prayerful, careful eye and skill not just to whack randomly on the vine, but to notice the small green shoots that need the nourishment of the winter resting to begin to grow.

In Spring ~ the buds now burst and break forth in growth.  The bud swells and reveals new leaves.  There is a flowering that happens.  The vine continues to absorb water and nutrients through the roots as the leaves undergo photosynthesis ~ note there are no visible grapes yet.

In Summer ~ the grapevine flowers begin to bring forth young grapes that will swell, ripen, and gain color and flavor.  Vine growth slows down as the focus shifts to sending all the energy, nutrients, and resources to the fruit.  There is a slow ripening on the vine that cannot be sped up.

During Harvest season, it is all hands on deck ~ trying to get the fruit off the vines ~ note that this is the busiest time.  And note, this is where modern life tells us to live all the time!!

In Autumn ~ the grapevine begins to rest, the vine slows down to conserve energy.  The leaves change colors and fall away.  This is a dormant state of rest for the next season.

 

Do not forget that there is a weathered and worn fence that supports the vine.  This is what holds you up every season.  The fence may look different.  Your fence is made up of friends and family, authors who give us new ideas, and the church as a safe space to be who you are and what you are.  The fence can also be out in creation, breathing in God’s love next to a tree that has weathered many storms and sunny days. 

 

Today, consider how resurrection happens outside and venture out to stand in the sun, soaking in the vitamin D that we all need ~ because our souls are solar-powered.  May the One who wrote the truth of life into the seasons be felt, experienced, seen, and encountered this day and this Earth Day week.  Amen.

Prayer

 

Beyond Certainty

 

¹¹ Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb ¹² and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. ¹³ They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” ¹⁴ At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. ¹⁵ He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

 

Part of the mystery of being a resurrection people is not only the tension that the beauty and brokenness, the grief and good news, sit side-by-side, but that Jesus is there too.  Note that initially, Mary doesn’t notice Jesus.  Mary has come to her own conclusion, and the jury in her mind has reached consensus: Jesus’ body was taken by tomb thieves or some cruel Roman trick or some other nefarious reason.  Oh, I have concrete conclusions too!  I know, just know, that those people are evil, don’t try to tell me differently, I shout.  I know, just know, that if we could all value diversity, the world would be a better place.  I know, just know, that if people would really practice their Easter-ing faith and see each person as beloved, I would be out of a job because who would need church!?! 

 

Easter disrupts and disturbs my certainty.  Easter surprises my concrete conclusions.  Easter messes with what I think is true beyond a shadow of a doubt by telling me something I never considered to be true: death can still be emptied of its fear; love can rule even alongside the free will to choose evil.  Pain and praise are both moments to encounter the Holy in Easter-ing ways.  Christ is there in the grief and good news, saying your name.

 

Speak aloud your name right now.  Go ahead, say it, and may you also hear Christ saying your name this morning.  Christ is so close you can feel his presence, and your skin can feel the wind of angels’ wings.  You, like the disciples, can still feel Jesus bursting and breaking into the walled-off rooms in your mind, heart, and soul, breathing on you, and saying, “Peace”.  Your life is infused and inspired by a grace that will never let you go, especially in the weeping before realizing what the empty tomb fully means.  Because we never fully know what we don’t know, we never fully exhaust all that Easter can mean.  Faith is mystery and marvel and meaning always evolving toward the One who knows and calls your name.  Do you hear it?  Do we dare to live this way?   Amen.

Holding Space

 

¹¹ Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb ¹² and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. ¹³ They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” ¹⁴ At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. ¹⁵ He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

 

We’ve wept with Mary.  We’ve stepped into the empty tomb and heard the echo that brokenness is never the last word.  We’ve explored and experimented with the contradiction of faith being one foot in the mystery/marvel of the empty tomb and one foot in the hurting world.  Today, I invite you to pay attention to the angels who ask, “What breaks your heart?”  Easter isn’t just some triumphant militaristic conquest of the world.  Remember, Rome still oppressed people after the first Easter.  Remember, crucifixion still happened after the resurrection.  Remember, Jesus comes back with the wounds of the hurt on his hands and body.  Easter can embrace the beauty and brokenness of your life, our community, our country, and our world.  When the angels asked, “Why are you weeping?” that wasn’t a challenge.  The angels didn’t hand her a tissue for her issue or tell her to get over it.  The angels did what Peter and the Beloved Disciple could not: hold space for hurt.  The angels made room for grief.  Some angels still do this for us.  Who helps you hold space and place for ache today?  Who weeps with you over our world, our brokenness, and heartbreak?  Who is the angel with you as you seek to be an Easter person in the world?  Take time not only to name names, but to connect!   The angels truly wanted to know what Mary was feeling, and so do angels to this day.  Connect, call, and be in community with those who listen and lean into your one wild and precious life in these days.  Amen.

The Easter Paradox

 

¹¹ Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb ¹² and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot. ¹³ They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?” “They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” ¹⁴ At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus. ¹⁵ He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

 

Yesterday we wept with Mary over the state of our world.  Mary the Tower (which is what Magdalene means) stood at the juxtaposition of grief and good news.  Outside the empty tomb, in the presence of angels, is where we find ourselves every day.  Remember, during Lent, I shared the quote for Frederick Buechner, who said, “Here is the world.  Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  Don’t be afraid.”  This is where faith leads us ~ to a place where grief and good news are side-by-side in tension.  There are experiences and evidence of the terrible and the beautiful over the course of weeks and days in your life.  For me, I hold the realities of war, relationship ruptures, brash bullies, and social discrimination alongside places and people who are compassionate and caring ~ even when the two contradict and seem to cancel each other out.  Life is not some math equation we are solving, but an experience we are living.  I hold both the hurt and heart-warming truths.  I hold the tears and the laughter.  I hold the honest brokenness and beauty of friends and love.  Both are true.  Both are part of being an Easter-ing people.  Today, write down your griefs/pains and your experiences of good news of God’s grace and love.  Today, name and notice the shapes of your tears and the sounds of holy interruptions.  To be an Easter-ing people isn’t endless brass blaring, chocolate consuming, or lily aromas wafting in the air.  Easter-ing is the ability to hold together the twin truths of beauty and brokenness, saying, “Here I am, God.”  May this be our prayer posture today and in the days to come.  Amen.