Today’s reading from 1 Corinthians is a continuation from last week’s. For some reason when I read today’s passage earlier this week, I started thinking of it literally. (Now, you may think I’ve gone “over the edge” but stay with me.)
The images that came to mind were absurd: You sitting out there in your chairs at Crissey Farm…One of you an eyeball. Another an ear. Another a heart. One a head, and so on. In thinking of it in that silly way, I was able to “hear again" the part of today’s passage that says, “If all were a single member (like an eyeball or a heart), where would the body be?” The parts have to be assembled together as a body, in order for there to be a body at all—instead of a bunch of silly, isolated parts.
Then my mind went from the literal-absurd eyeballs on chairs to more abstract images of some of Picasso’s work, especially the cubist-Fauve-influenced ones from the late 1930s. In these parts of things, and especially faces, are fragmented and perhaps reconstructed in shocking ways. In some of his paintings Picasso used this style to communicate great emotional distress, like the shattering experience of grief.
To state the obvious, a fragmented body or face is not a whole body or face. And I believe it is God’s will that the Body of Christ be whole—all parts in their proper place. Working together. Complete. And in being whole, then the Body of Christ can give light in the darkness to this sinful and broken world.
So we must use and honor all the parts, because they are all necessary to make the body whole. Think about it…An eyeball that can see a glorious sunset, is of no use unless it has a heart and mind to process and enjoy it. A heart full of love needs arms and lips and voice to express the love.
So as I look out at you today, in your chairs at Crissey Farm, I don’t see an eyeball in one chair, a foot in another. I see people who bring many, many gifts to this place. If I could step up on a little balcony, I could see you as a whole, as the body of Christ at St. James. Some are teachers. Some prophets. Some mercy givers and helpers. Some healers. Some offer hospitality. Some nurture others. Some are young, fragile, or frail and need our protection. Some have remarkable abilities to exercise leadership. Some have brilliant, disciplined minds. Some have great pragmatic wisdom. Some remind us to exercise caution, while others are way ahead, boldly out there “leading the charge.” And some have great artistic gifts, which you generously share. But we’re all together, part of an organic whole, sharing our gifts and relying on each other’s gifts. We do this because we know that each of us has a piece of Wisdom and Truth, and none of us has all the Wisdom or Truth, but together we will have a much better opportunity to be Wise and know Truth. So we rely on each other’s gifts in order to best take light into the world and build up the Body of Christ. While we are many parts/members, everyone who is in Christ belongs to the one Body…through our baptisms and through the Holy Spirit.
So our distinctions, the things that make us unique individuals, never bar us from the community. We’re all together in this, and no one part of the Body can claim to be more necessary than another. All of us are equally essential. The gifts God gives us are of equal value. So we must highly regard each other…
It puts a different light on, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” because our neighbors are all part of our self, which is the Body of Christ. And, because we are united as one body, we feel the suffering of any one of the members, and we share the joy of any one of the members because they are part of us and we are part of them.
This way of thinking and being together in this parish family will serve us well as we continue in our process towards discerning the future God is calling us into, and as we discern the kind of building that will best help us live into God’s mission. When we realize we cannot be isolated parts: We’re not eyeballs and ears sitting in the chairs, trying to do our thing without regard or relationship with all the members and those we will serve. When we realize instead we are essential parts of one Body sitting in these chairs, then we’ll know in the depths of our beings, “The body does not consist of one member, but of many, and if we were each just a single member, then there would be no body.”
As we of St. James move forward, and so we’re not fragmented or disassembled like a Picasso painting, we’ve got to stay in right relationship with all our parts, so that we are indeed, together, the Body of Christ, a light in the darkness to this sinful and broken world. Amen.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Reflections on Martin Luther King Jr. Day in La Ceiba – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
Finals week has arrived for the second term, which means I can finally take a deep breath. I was much more prepared this time around for the pre-finals onslaught. Even so, the race to finish chapters, put together study packets, chase down the students who were missing assignments, and then grade the subsequent deluge of labs, worksheets and test corrections that were the reward for my efforts made it a long week. Now that I have closed grades, things are a lot calmer. Tomorrow I give my four of my five science finals then have the rest of the week to plug in final grades and prepare for the next term. It is all half days this week so I should have plenty of time to recharge. Then I get to start all over again for round three. Still got plenty left in the tank.
Because today the secondary school had math and social studies exams all morning, on Friday the whole school met for an afternoon assembly celebrating the life a work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. While he is not part of the pantheon of great Honduran leaders, Veronica and other faculty felt it important to recognize the accomplishments and impact of the youngest Nobel Peace Price Laureate. Each class from the primary school gave a presentation in the form of a skit, poem or song. The ninth grade class, led by Ms. Betty, ended the ceremony by reading Dr. King’s “I have a dream…” speech. I was tapped at last minute to be the MC so that the teacher organizing the event would be able to marshal her troops more effectively. Besides giving the opening prayer and introducing the groups, my main task was to make sure the children had a microphone in front of them so everyone could hear so I stayed busy. At the end, a box was passed around raising money for the victims in Haiti and many students enthusiastically stuffed in some of their after-school snack money. Amazing.
The presentation was short and simple, but I found it very powerful. Hearing the words of Dr. King, which I have heard many times in my life, coming from the mouths of student who were not American, most of whom had never even seen America but knew first hand the weight of their words gave the speech a whole new meaning. These children know what it means to be oppressed, to be overlooked, ignored, and manipulated. These children know how it feels to live a life where safety is a tenuous hope, never a guarantee. Dr. King speaks for them.
Honduras is the poorest country in Central America. Its massive disparity in wealth distribution leaves a tiny few in power and the masses picking at the scraps. The politicians line their pockets with aid money while the police demand bribes for the simplest of services. Basic infrastructure is crumbling and security worsens as more desperate people looking to make a living get involved in one of the only growing job fields, drug trafficking. The children are extremely bright. They see parallels the between their lives and the lives of minorities living in the United States.
Many of the students are able to come to Holy Trinity because they have family members working in the US, sending money back home. Many have not seen their parents in years because they are working in the country illegally and can never return. They know that if they go to the United States, they will enter a culture that often treats there ethnic group as second class citizens. Yet if you ask any child, they would go in a heartbeat, because the see so little to look forward to if they stay here. Already one of our 10th graders left for New Orleans and another is in the process of getting a visa. While this may benefit the student and family, it only continues the cycle, as the country’s best and brightest head for the doors instead of sticking around and pushing for change. It is hard to blame them. Change is often proposed, seldom accomplished, and can be a dangerous undertaking.
Through it all, the students remain positive. They are not bitter. They are not cynical. They are not defeated. The students continue to work hard because they believe there is a chance they will beat the odds. In my closing comments, I told them that 50 years later, Dr. King’s dream of peace, justice and equality is far from a reality. But it is still alive. It lives in them, in their daily interactions, in their minds, hearts and prayers. It lives because they want it to live. I challenged them not to just remember the dream but make it theirs to achieve: to focus to the possibilities of the future and not the failures of the past. Don’t wait for it to happen. Work toward it today. Work toward it tomorrow. Work toward it together.
Approaching the midpoint of my year, I have begun to reflect on my hopes and goals for my students. I came here with the hope of educating them in the way I was educated so that they might have the opportunity to further their studies, ideally in the United States. However, that goal has become secondary. I now feel that my true mission is to empower my students with the tools, knowledge, and most importantly the will to change their country. I want them to believe that it doesn’t have to be this way and they can be part of the solution. I am beginning to network with several members of the community to find ways to show the student specifically where they can fit into that puzzle, now and in the future. Hopefully I will be able to develop some projects for them for the final term. I want my students to take their American dreams and make them Honduran dreams. The drive for change has to come from within. I cannot do it for them but I will certainly give them all the fuel I can.
“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.””
Martin Luther King, Jr. - 28 August 1963: Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
Isaiah 40: 4-5
Because today the secondary school had math and social studies exams all morning, on Friday the whole school met for an afternoon assembly celebrating the life a work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. While he is not part of the pantheon of great Honduran leaders, Veronica and other faculty felt it important to recognize the accomplishments and impact of the youngest Nobel Peace Price Laureate. Each class from the primary school gave a presentation in the form of a skit, poem or song. The ninth grade class, led by Ms. Betty, ended the ceremony by reading Dr. King’s “I have a dream…” speech. I was tapped at last minute to be the MC so that the teacher organizing the event would be able to marshal her troops more effectively. Besides giving the opening prayer and introducing the groups, my main task was to make sure the children had a microphone in front of them so everyone could hear so I stayed busy. At the end, a box was passed around raising money for the victims in Haiti and many students enthusiastically stuffed in some of their after-school snack money. Amazing.
The presentation was short and simple, but I found it very powerful. Hearing the words of Dr. King, which I have heard many times in my life, coming from the mouths of student who were not American, most of whom had never even seen America but knew first hand the weight of their words gave the speech a whole new meaning. These children know what it means to be oppressed, to be overlooked, ignored, and manipulated. These children know how it feels to live a life where safety is a tenuous hope, never a guarantee. Dr. King speaks for them.
Honduras is the poorest country in Central America. Its massive disparity in wealth distribution leaves a tiny few in power and the masses picking at the scraps. The politicians line their pockets with aid money while the police demand bribes for the simplest of services. Basic infrastructure is crumbling and security worsens as more desperate people looking to make a living get involved in one of the only growing job fields, drug trafficking. The children are extremely bright. They see parallels the between their lives and the lives of minorities living in the United States.
Many of the students are able to come to Holy Trinity because they have family members working in the US, sending money back home. Many have not seen their parents in years because they are working in the country illegally and can never return. They know that if they go to the United States, they will enter a culture that often treats there ethnic group as second class citizens. Yet if you ask any child, they would go in a heartbeat, because the see so little to look forward to if they stay here. Already one of our 10th graders left for New Orleans and another is in the process of getting a visa. While this may benefit the student and family, it only continues the cycle, as the country’s best and brightest head for the doors instead of sticking around and pushing for change. It is hard to blame them. Change is often proposed, seldom accomplished, and can be a dangerous undertaking.
Through it all, the students remain positive. They are not bitter. They are not cynical. They are not defeated. The students continue to work hard because they believe there is a chance they will beat the odds. In my closing comments, I told them that 50 years later, Dr. King’s dream of peace, justice and equality is far from a reality. But it is still alive. It lives in them, in their daily interactions, in their minds, hearts and prayers. It lives because they want it to live. I challenged them not to just remember the dream but make it theirs to achieve: to focus to the possibilities of the future and not the failures of the past. Don’t wait for it to happen. Work toward it today. Work toward it tomorrow. Work toward it together.
Approaching the midpoint of my year, I have begun to reflect on my hopes and goals for my students. I came here with the hope of educating them in the way I was educated so that they might have the opportunity to further their studies, ideally in the United States. However, that goal has become secondary. I now feel that my true mission is to empower my students with the tools, knowledge, and most importantly the will to change their country. I want them to believe that it doesn’t have to be this way and they can be part of the solution. I am beginning to network with several members of the community to find ways to show the student specifically where they can fit into that puzzle, now and in the future. Hopefully I will be able to develop some projects for them for the final term. I want my students to take their American dreams and make them Honduran dreams. The drive for change has to come from within. I cannot do it for them but I will certainly give them all the fuel I can.
“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.””
Martin Luther King, Jr. - 28 August 1963: Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
Isaiah 40: 4-5
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Rector’s Report--Annual Meeting, January 17, 2010
There was an ad in the Berkshire Eagle Tuesday for a book called, “Mountain Man Insights” (by Henry Kranz). The ad ran a quote from the book, “The handwriting was on the wall. Then the wall collapsed.”
When I gave the Rector’s Report a year ago, I think we were still pretty much in shock. This year although I know we’re all in different places, I think we have moved out of shock and probably out of denial, and into an energetic place of exploration and discernment. We’ve spent, and will continue to spend, countless hours on engineers, architects, attorneys, building inspectors, and insurance people. Much of the rest of this meeting will be about that.But in addition to these things, I am amazed and very proud of the discernment work and the new ministries that have started blossoming this year. I’m also proud of the way we have “carried on” in the midst of our stressful situation.
During the homily, I spoke some about the discernment work. This work has been greatly augmented by our participation in the Partnership for Missional Church (PMC). This process is teaching us new ways of listening to each other, the community, and the Spirit. I think the impact of what we are learning will be lasting on the way we are together and make decisions as a parish. It is such a relief to try to be the Church in a spiritual instead of a secular way! What good news that we are in God’s hands and God has work for us to do that’s part of God’s own mission!
For me personally there is a great sense of joy and a realization that three seemingly different parts of my own journey have come together and been integrated this year as St. James goes through our corporate discernment process.
Those 3 things from my journey are: 1. My 10-year study of Adaptive Challenges in the Clergy Leadership Project. 2. The Ignation spiritual discernment which I’ve used in the past, but only for personal decision making. 3. The PMC process.
In this report, I’d like to highlight a few of this year’s new ministries. On Friday night I received an email from Jake Pinkston, our teaching missioner in Honduras:
“Hey Francie, I realize this is a little late for the annual meeting but I figured since I am sort of on the payroll, I should give you an update.” Now remember last summer when Jake asked us to help make this mission year possible, he told us he was frugal. Well, here’s an accounting of his year: He received $7,290 in gifts from the Diocese of Western Massachusetts, St. James parishioners, Vestry, rector, and choir and from Transfiguration (the church he attended in Colorado). His total expenses for the first six months were $1,621.68! Now we have a new young missioner Jane Clausen, who is working in an AIDS orphanage in Ethiopia.
These are Children of this parish, and we are just so proud of their choices to give of their time, talent and treasure to help children in some of the poorest parts of our world. And I am proud of you as a congregation for supporting them as they grew up and now with your prayers and monetary gifts as they seek to serve.
Another amazing ministry that began this year is Gideon’s Garden. The idea started with our youth, was nurtured by Pennie Curry, and was generously gifted by Dan and Martha Tawczynski of Taft Farms. With our 1/3 acre of land and a lot of labor, the youth of our parish and other youth, as well as many adults, supplied an amazing amount of produce for the People’s Pantry, Breaking Bread Kitchen, The Stockbridge Open Table, and about 6 families.
You know we named this Garden for our first full-time rector, Gideon Bostwick (1770-90). Now Gideon had a real missionary spirit, and traveled to 47 towns, riding on horseback 80-100 miles per week to spread the Gospel & baptize people in CT, VT, NY, and MA. I believe this spirit of taking the Gospel out to people and places beyond our walls is part of St. James’ essential DNA. And this Garden we till, that bears his name, seems to have been taken over by the Holy Spirit and become a place where all kinds of people come, not only to work, but to pray. The Garden has become a prayer chapel, a meditation garden, for people who desperately need a place to be safe and quiet. It’s a place to be still and know that God is God. The people who go there may never step foot inside a conventional church, but I believe for them Gideon’s Garden is a “church without walls.” It’s a non-intimidating, safe place where they have a chance to connect with God.
I wonder if there’s not a metaphor here for us as we seek to find our place in God’s mission. How can we in our own day continue to take the Gospel out beyond the walls of the church, as Gideon Bostwick did? As Jake is doing? As Jane is doing?
I want to thank all of you, because we have carried on here at Crissey Farm in fine form. I especially want to acknowledge the choir and our Minister of Music Charles Olegar for bringing us the Good News week after week in song and sometimes even with noisy gongs and clanging symbols! We are indeed blessed by such remarkable, faithful and creative musicians.
And behind the scenes our Parish Secretary Bonnie Weiland continues to work at home to produce our bulletins and coordinate our schedules. Thanks go as well to Fairview Hospital for letting us do most of our copying there, and for hosting our Executive Committee and Vestry meetings.
Now just think about what all it takes to create our worship experience here at Crissey Farm. First our thanks to Gary and Andrew, who make this space available to us. Then there’s our great Hospitality Team, Altar Guild, Ushers, Greeters, Teachers, Lectors, Prayer Writers, Acolytes, Chalice Bearers, Healing Ministers, and those who set up, take down, and clean up. And those yummy coffee hours! And during coffee hour, the amazing Artist of the Month series that showcases our gifted parish.
If you don’t know, we owe our thanks as well to Wheeler & Taylor, who provide a space for our Thursday Eucharist free of charge.
And I want to say thank you to the Vestry for their time, talent, wisdom and dedication during a very difficult year. Finally I want to acknowledge our Executive Team and invite them to come up: Senior Warden Doreen Hutchinson, Junior Warden Doug Happ, Clerk Lee Cheek, and Treasurer Dick Kelly. You cannot begin to imagine the work these four dedicated souls have done this year. As a token of my appreciation, I’d like to present them all with bottles of POM. It’s a de-stressing/detoxifying pomegranate juice and also with Relaxing flavored tea bags…enjoy! We don’t start again until tomorrow! Thank you all.
When I gave the Rector’s Report a year ago, I think we were still pretty much in shock. This year although I know we’re all in different places, I think we have moved out of shock and probably out of denial, and into an energetic place of exploration and discernment. We’ve spent, and will continue to spend, countless hours on engineers, architects, attorneys, building inspectors, and insurance people. Much of the rest of this meeting will be about that.But in addition to these things, I am amazed and very proud of the discernment work and the new ministries that have started blossoming this year. I’m also proud of the way we have “carried on” in the midst of our stressful situation.
During the homily, I spoke some about the discernment work. This work has been greatly augmented by our participation in the Partnership for Missional Church (PMC). This process is teaching us new ways of listening to each other, the community, and the Spirit. I think the impact of what we are learning will be lasting on the way we are together and make decisions as a parish. It is such a relief to try to be the Church in a spiritual instead of a secular way! What good news that we are in God’s hands and God has work for us to do that’s part of God’s own mission!
For me personally there is a great sense of joy and a realization that three seemingly different parts of my own journey have come together and been integrated this year as St. James goes through our corporate discernment process.
Those 3 things from my journey are: 1. My 10-year study of Adaptive Challenges in the Clergy Leadership Project. 2. The Ignation spiritual discernment which I’ve used in the past, but only for personal decision making. 3. The PMC process.
In this report, I’d like to highlight a few of this year’s new ministries. On Friday night I received an email from Jake Pinkston, our teaching missioner in Honduras:
“Hey Francie, I realize this is a little late for the annual meeting but I figured since I am sort of on the payroll, I should give you an update.” Now remember last summer when Jake asked us to help make this mission year possible, he told us he was frugal. Well, here’s an accounting of his year: He received $7,290 in gifts from the Diocese of Western Massachusetts, St. James parishioners, Vestry, rector, and choir and from Transfiguration (the church he attended in Colorado). His total expenses for the first six months were $1,621.68! Now we have a new young missioner Jane Clausen, who is working in an AIDS orphanage in Ethiopia.
These are Children of this parish, and we are just so proud of their choices to give of their time, talent and treasure to help children in some of the poorest parts of our world. And I am proud of you as a congregation for supporting them as they grew up and now with your prayers and monetary gifts as they seek to serve.
Another amazing ministry that began this year is Gideon’s Garden. The idea started with our youth, was nurtured by Pennie Curry, and was generously gifted by Dan and Martha Tawczynski of Taft Farms. With our 1/3 acre of land and a lot of labor, the youth of our parish and other youth, as well as many adults, supplied an amazing amount of produce for the People’s Pantry, Breaking Bread Kitchen, The Stockbridge Open Table, and about 6 families.
You know we named this Garden for our first full-time rector, Gideon Bostwick (1770-90). Now Gideon had a real missionary spirit, and traveled to 47 towns, riding on horseback 80-100 miles per week to spread the Gospel & baptize people in CT, VT, NY, and MA. I believe this spirit of taking the Gospel out to people and places beyond our walls is part of St. James’ essential DNA. And this Garden we till, that bears his name, seems to have been taken over by the Holy Spirit and become a place where all kinds of people come, not only to work, but to pray. The Garden has become a prayer chapel, a meditation garden, for people who desperately need a place to be safe and quiet. It’s a place to be still and know that God is God. The people who go there may never step foot inside a conventional church, but I believe for them Gideon’s Garden is a “church without walls.” It’s a non-intimidating, safe place where they have a chance to connect with God.
I wonder if there’s not a metaphor here for us as we seek to find our place in God’s mission. How can we in our own day continue to take the Gospel out beyond the walls of the church, as Gideon Bostwick did? As Jake is doing? As Jane is doing?
I want to thank all of you, because we have carried on here at Crissey Farm in fine form. I especially want to acknowledge the choir and our Minister of Music Charles Olegar for bringing us the Good News week after week in song and sometimes even with noisy gongs and clanging symbols! We are indeed blessed by such remarkable, faithful and creative musicians.
And behind the scenes our Parish Secretary Bonnie Weiland continues to work at home to produce our bulletins and coordinate our schedules. Thanks go as well to Fairview Hospital for letting us do most of our copying there, and for hosting our Executive Committee and Vestry meetings.
Now just think about what all it takes to create our worship experience here at Crissey Farm. First our thanks to Gary and Andrew, who make this space available to us. Then there’s our great Hospitality Team, Altar Guild, Ushers, Greeters, Teachers, Lectors, Prayer Writers, Acolytes, Chalice Bearers, Healing Ministers, and those who set up, take down, and clean up. And those yummy coffee hours! And during coffee hour, the amazing Artist of the Month series that showcases our gifted parish.
If you don’t know, we owe our thanks as well to Wheeler & Taylor, who provide a space for our Thursday Eucharist free of charge.
And I want to say thank you to the Vestry for their time, talent, wisdom and dedication during a very difficult year. Finally I want to acknowledge our Executive Team and invite them to come up: Senior Warden Doreen Hutchinson, Junior Warden Doug Happ, Clerk Lee Cheek, and Treasurer Dick Kelly. You cannot begin to imagine the work these four dedicated souls have done this year. As a token of my appreciation, I’d like to present them all with bottles of POM. It’s a de-stressing/detoxifying pomegranate juice and also with Relaxing flavored tea bags…enjoy! We don’t start again until tomorrow! Thank you all.
A Homily preached January 17, 2010, Epiphany 2 C, On the day of the Annual Meeting By the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
Because of the way this past year has unfolded and because of the discernment process we’re in, I heard today’s familiar spiritual gifts reading from 1 Corinthians differently this time. I’m reminded of a way we talked about group dynamics when I was in Clinical Pastoral Education training years ago: If everyone in the group was just “in the room together,” doing their own thing, we called it “parallel play”. That means everyone was playing/working in the same room, but in isolation. We were not playing/working TOGETHER for a common good. On the other hand, there were times when we actually played/worked together collaboratively. We shared our” toys”-- our tools, our gifts, our different ways of seeing the world as we approached a common project or process.
I’m reading the 1st Corinthians passage today in a much more collaborative way than I think I have in the past. As Christians we’ve all been given spiritual gifts, and we certainly use these in our various personal lives and in the church. For example, those who have the gift of teaching, teach. Those who have the gift of healing, heal. And so on. Churches tend to do this corporately as well. So if we as a parish identify our main gift as music, then we focus on music. Other churches may focus on children’s education or foreign missions. Now, please don’t hear me wrong: All this is well and good. It comes from asking the question, “what are my/our gifts and how can I/we use them?” ‘Nothing wrong with that except I know it’s easy for us to get into some kind of Ego thing with this approach. Some can’t seem to find their gifts, and this is depressing to them. Others know what their gifts are, but always seem to be looking over their shoulder or on the other side of the fence, wondering why they can’t have someone else’s gifts.
A new approach to this that’s come to me this year, is to get the focus off of my gifts/our gifts and onto God’s mission: To acknowledge that God has a mission, and then to ask, “What is my part/what is St. James’ part in God’s mission.” If we come about it this way, the Ego thing just evaporates, and we see we are really part of God’s great cosmic work of justice and compassion. We realize our play and work cannot be parallel play and work: We’ve got to break down the divisions between us and all come to the table bringing all of our gifts, knowing that what we can be, do, and make together is infinitely more than we can by ourselves.
That’s why I am excited about the process we are in together. I look forward to learning new things from the short reports from the 3 committees later today. But more than that, I look forward to the opportunity we’ll have to listen to each other’s ways of looking at these three options. Of course we’ll all bring our biases to the table. That’s human nature, but it’s good for us to be aware of our biases. In recognizing these, hopefully we can be more open and listening to others’ ideas. I fully believe that today and as we continue in this process, we will hear things we’ve not thought of individually or in our smaller groups. As we sit together and listen, we really have a chance to discern God’s will and God’s mission and to learn from the amazing gifts and the many different ways of seeing things that are present among us today. In this corporate setting I believe we can hear a word from God through the mouths of one another, as the Spirit moves among us.
I pray as we witness the various ways God’s Spirit is manifested among us today, we will come to see more clearly God’s preferred and promised future for us and how we fit into God’s mission of justice and compassion for the world. Amen.
I’m reading the 1st Corinthians passage today in a much more collaborative way than I think I have in the past. As Christians we’ve all been given spiritual gifts, and we certainly use these in our various personal lives and in the church. For example, those who have the gift of teaching, teach. Those who have the gift of healing, heal. And so on. Churches tend to do this corporately as well. So if we as a parish identify our main gift as music, then we focus on music. Other churches may focus on children’s education or foreign missions. Now, please don’t hear me wrong: All this is well and good. It comes from asking the question, “what are my/our gifts and how can I/we use them?” ‘Nothing wrong with that except I know it’s easy for us to get into some kind of Ego thing with this approach. Some can’t seem to find their gifts, and this is depressing to them. Others know what their gifts are, but always seem to be looking over their shoulder or on the other side of the fence, wondering why they can’t have someone else’s gifts.
A new approach to this that’s come to me this year, is to get the focus off of my gifts/our gifts and onto God’s mission: To acknowledge that God has a mission, and then to ask, “What is my part/what is St. James’ part in God’s mission.” If we come about it this way, the Ego thing just evaporates, and we see we are really part of God’s great cosmic work of justice and compassion. We realize our play and work cannot be parallel play and work: We’ve got to break down the divisions between us and all come to the table bringing all of our gifts, knowing that what we can be, do, and make together is infinitely more than we can by ourselves.
That’s why I am excited about the process we are in together. I look forward to learning new things from the short reports from the 3 committees later today. But more than that, I look forward to the opportunity we’ll have to listen to each other’s ways of looking at these three options. Of course we’ll all bring our biases to the table. That’s human nature, but it’s good for us to be aware of our biases. In recognizing these, hopefully we can be more open and listening to others’ ideas. I fully believe that today and as we continue in this process, we will hear things we’ve not thought of individually or in our smaller groups. As we sit together and listen, we really have a chance to discern God’s will and God’s mission and to learn from the amazing gifts and the many different ways of seeing things that are present among us today. In this corporate setting I believe we can hear a word from God through the mouths of one another, as the Spirit moves among us.
I pray as we witness the various ways God’s Spirit is manifested among us today, we will come to see more clearly God’s preferred and promised future for us and how we fit into God’s mission of justice and compassion for the world. Amen.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Ardent Even In The Cold – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
Fine Scottish weather has arrived in La Ceiba. Like much of the northern hemisphere, Hondurans have been experiencing some unusually cold weather for the last week, accompanied by frequent showers and overcast skies. They don’t like it at all.
Students and faculty alike have been bundled up from head to toe with scarves, jackets, extra socks, even gloves and hats… in class! The dress code was even relaxed so that the students could wear jeans, which are much warmer than the lightweight pants and skirts that are the usual standard. For the first time all year, the windows are closed and the wall fans are off. Still, some students have been shivering in class. The low temperature: an icy 58ยบ Fahrenheit.
I guess it does not quite compare to New England winters but when you are acclimated to subtropical weather, the cool-off is quite a shock. It can be 100 degrees and Hondurans won’t bat an eye, but drop the temperature below 70 and you would think glaciers were coming down off the Nombre de Dios Mountain range. I didn’t know they even had down jackets in Honduras. As for me, I am still teaching in short sleeves and enjoying every minute of it. How nice it is to not have to shout above the hum of fans and traffic and not be sweating bullets all day. My students already thought I was crazy. This has only confirmed their suspicions.
Sadly, it looks like the worst of it has passed and the rest of the week will be in the mid-70s. I am sure I will be looking back fondly on this week in April and May when the country becomes one big sauna again.
The reason for the late post this week is missionary season has begun at Holy Trinity. Dan and Kitty Telep, friends of Mike and Betty from Pittsburgh and well traveled missionaries, spent the last five days with us. It has been nonstop feasting for Mike, Betty, Veronica, Denny (her husband) and me. Saturday night we had a welcome dinner at Veronica’s, also celebrating Dan and Kitty’s 39th wedding anniversary. Sunday we watched the NFL playoffs between brunch and dinner at Mike and Betty’s, and Monday night we dined at La Quinta Real. I offered to have everyone over at my place but when we realized we would have all had to sit on the floor and eat around my bed (I have no tables), we decided it best to go elsewhere. Last night we gave Dan and Kitty a proper send off from a little restaurant right on the beach, complete with a Cuban cigar for Dan before the took off for the US early this morning. It was joyous half week of friends and fellowship. I feel like I am going through party withdrawal cooking dinner at home for the first time in what seems like forever.
Kitty and Dan spent Monday and Tuesday helping out at school. Dan gave the sermon at the Monday morning service and later shared with the students his experiences returning to Vietnam as a missionary after serving in the War. He also helped Mike and Denny with the boys’ shop class. Kitty, the sewing extraordinaire, brought materials and led all the secondary school girls in a bag making project. For two days, she battled through temperamental sew machines that seemed to find new ways to break as soon as she fixed them and showed the girls how to follow the patterns and complete the project. The bags turned out beautifully and the girls were thrilled to have them to take home and show off.
While Kitty and Dan gave talent and treasure to enrich the experiences of the students, their biggest contribution to Holy Trinity was their presence. This was their fourth visit to La Ceiba supporting Mike and Betty in their mission work. Their profound faith, patience, and commitment to service inspired and elevated the spirits of everyone they reached out to. They were warm and engaged, looking for any opportunity to help out and interact. There were several students they had built relationships with over the years and the student’s faces lit up when Dan and Kitty remembered them by name. They also got to know several of our newer students.
At times it is hard for me to gauge my efforts at Trinity, as my perspective comes from my day-to-day work in and out of class. I have extremely high expectations for myself and can at times focus too much on the future while not fully appreciating the present. Dan and Kitty’s positive feedback and encouragement were empowering, especially with their knowledge of the progression of the school over the last few years. It has given me new strength and resolve in my mission here.
It was wonderful having Dan and Kitty at Trinity. We are so grateful for all they did for us. If anyone at St. James is interested in visiting the school, even for a short while, I would love to help make that happen. You have no idea how much of a difference you can make. They brought a spark of energy and purpose that enkindled the hearts and minds of many chilled children. You can too.
“I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with the power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”
Ephesians 3: 16-17
Students and faculty alike have been bundled up from head to toe with scarves, jackets, extra socks, even gloves and hats… in class! The dress code was even relaxed so that the students could wear jeans, which are much warmer than the lightweight pants and skirts that are the usual standard. For the first time all year, the windows are closed and the wall fans are off. Still, some students have been shivering in class. The low temperature: an icy 58ยบ Fahrenheit.
I guess it does not quite compare to New England winters but when you are acclimated to subtropical weather, the cool-off is quite a shock. It can be 100 degrees and Hondurans won’t bat an eye, but drop the temperature below 70 and you would think glaciers were coming down off the Nombre de Dios Mountain range. I didn’t know they even had down jackets in Honduras. As for me, I am still teaching in short sleeves and enjoying every minute of it. How nice it is to not have to shout above the hum of fans and traffic and not be sweating bullets all day. My students already thought I was crazy. This has only confirmed their suspicions.
Sadly, it looks like the worst of it has passed and the rest of the week will be in the mid-70s. I am sure I will be looking back fondly on this week in April and May when the country becomes one big sauna again.
The reason for the late post this week is missionary season has begun at Holy Trinity. Dan and Kitty Telep, friends of Mike and Betty from Pittsburgh and well traveled missionaries, spent the last five days with us. It has been nonstop feasting for Mike, Betty, Veronica, Denny (her husband) and me. Saturday night we had a welcome dinner at Veronica’s, also celebrating Dan and Kitty’s 39th wedding anniversary. Sunday we watched the NFL playoffs between brunch and dinner at Mike and Betty’s, and Monday night we dined at La Quinta Real. I offered to have everyone over at my place but when we realized we would have all had to sit on the floor and eat around my bed (I have no tables), we decided it best to go elsewhere. Last night we gave Dan and Kitty a proper send off from a little restaurant right on the beach, complete with a Cuban cigar for Dan before the took off for the US early this morning. It was joyous half week of friends and fellowship. I feel like I am going through party withdrawal cooking dinner at home for the first time in what seems like forever.
Kitty and Dan spent Monday and Tuesday helping out at school. Dan gave the sermon at the Monday morning service and later shared with the students his experiences returning to Vietnam as a missionary after serving in the War. He also helped Mike and Denny with the boys’ shop class. Kitty, the sewing extraordinaire, brought materials and led all the secondary school girls in a bag making project. For two days, she battled through temperamental sew machines that seemed to find new ways to break as soon as she fixed them and showed the girls how to follow the patterns and complete the project. The bags turned out beautifully and the girls were thrilled to have them to take home and show off.
While Kitty and Dan gave talent and treasure to enrich the experiences of the students, their biggest contribution to Holy Trinity was their presence. This was their fourth visit to La Ceiba supporting Mike and Betty in their mission work. Their profound faith, patience, and commitment to service inspired and elevated the spirits of everyone they reached out to. They were warm and engaged, looking for any opportunity to help out and interact. There were several students they had built relationships with over the years and the student’s faces lit up when Dan and Kitty remembered them by name. They also got to know several of our newer students.
At times it is hard for me to gauge my efforts at Trinity, as my perspective comes from my day-to-day work in and out of class. I have extremely high expectations for myself and can at times focus too much on the future while not fully appreciating the present. Dan and Kitty’s positive feedback and encouragement were empowering, especially with their knowledge of the progression of the school over the last few years. It has given me new strength and resolve in my mission here.
It was wonderful having Dan and Kitty at Trinity. We are so grateful for all they did for us. If anyone at St. James is interested in visiting the school, even for a short while, I would love to help make that happen. You have no idea how much of a difference you can make. They brought a spark of energy and purpose that enkindled the hearts and minds of many chilled children. You can too.
“I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with the power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”
Ephesians 3: 16-17
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sermon, January 10, 2010, Epiphany 1 C by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
Today is the Feast Day of the Baptism of our Lord. In the Church calendar, it’s one of the five traditional days for baptisms and a day for us to renew our Baptismal Vows. However, today we don’t have a baptism, and we will wait and renew our vows next week at the Annual Meeting.
So today I’d like us to focus on the beautiful, comforting passage we read from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. Maybe not this one especially, but many passages from Isaiah are quite familiar to us because they are quoted in the New Testament. Perhaps we know Isaiah best from the passages in the King James Bible that Handel set in “The Messiah.”
Isaiah is a book written over several centuries, probably from the 8th Century Before the Common Era (BCE) until perhaps the 2nd Century BCE. Obviously, the entire book is not written by the same writer, and it is addressed to three very distinct historical situations. We call these three divisions “First,” “Second” and “Third” Isaiah.
Although there are three distinct times, historical situations, and writers, there are two major themes that knit together the centuries, authors, and situations of this entire book. One theme is that God is behind all historical events. The other is that Jerusalem, its king, and the proper worship of God are of central importance to God’s People.
Now today’s passage comes from Second Isaiah. It was written in the mid 6th Century BCE during the time in Israel’s history we call “the Babylonian Exile.” In 586 BCE, forty or so years before, the Babylonians had sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and scattered God’s Chosen People, sending many into exile in Babylon. Now to try to understand the depth of this tragedy for Israel, we’ve got to realize how central Jerusalem and the Temple were to their religion. In a sense, the City and the Temple was the place where God resided. So that’s the only place where people went to worship. There were no local synagogues yet, so the centrality and holiness of that One place for the people cannot be over estimated.
This is the period of time when the Book of Lamentations was written, and it gives voice to the deep grief the exiled people were experiencing away from their home.
This is also the time for which PS 137 is written:
“By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,
When we remembered you, O Zion (Jerusalem).
“As for our harps, we hung them up
On the trees in the midst of that land….
“How shall we sing the Lord’s song
Upon an alien soil?
“If I forget you, O Jerusalem,…”
The depth of their grief is profound. And so after close to 50 years of exile, comes a word of hope and comfort from Second Isaiah.
“Thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you…
“You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; . . bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth—everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.”
This promise of redemption is probably made shortly before Persia conquers Babylon, and Persia’s benevolent King Cyrus, invites God’s people to return and rebuild Jerusalem. There will be an end to their being scattered and separated from each other. There will be an end to their exile. They will go home.
Can you imagine what balm the prophet’s words were to the ears of the exiles? “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” God called them by name and will protect them!
Now, I wanted us to focus on this today because we at St. James are also in exile. We are away from our “sacred space” and many of our “holy things.” We know the pain and grief of this. But, unlike those in the Babylonian Exile, we have not been scattered and dispersed from our city or from each other. We are still together and learning this truth, “The church is not the building but the people (But people who need some kind of sacred space).” We’re also unlike those in the Babylonian Exile, because we haven’t “hung up our harps!” We seem to do a fairly great job of “singing the Lord’s song on an alien soil.” Maybe “alien” is a bit extreme for our circumstances, but we certainly can make music to the glory of God, on the “different” soil at Crissey Farm, Gideon’s Garden, and at our neighboring churches when we join with them.
We’re in the middle of the hard work of discernment. By the world’s standards, we just don’t have enough time; but in some mysterious way, I believe we are doing this discernment work in God’s Time…Kyros Time, that functions in a time and space beyond the clock. I believe in fact the time restraints we’ve been given by the insurance company are somehow part of the way God’s Spirit is working with us. In quoting a book title from C. S. Lewis, Bishop Scruton said, “Perhaps the deadline the insurance company is imposing is a ‘Severe Mercy’ for St. James.”
Yes, we’re in a tough time, and it will no doubt get harder before it gets easier. So I hope we can let the words of the ancient prophet minister to us in our exile, as they did to the Israelites in Babylon.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
As we move more deeply in our discernment of where God is calling St. James, be assured, this God of the Prophets loves us. We are precious in God’s sight. We are honored. This great God has called us by name, and God’s Spirit will be with us every step of the way. Amen.
So today I’d like us to focus on the beautiful, comforting passage we read from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. Maybe not this one especially, but many passages from Isaiah are quite familiar to us because they are quoted in the New Testament. Perhaps we know Isaiah best from the passages in the King James Bible that Handel set in “The Messiah.”
Isaiah is a book written over several centuries, probably from the 8th Century Before the Common Era (BCE) until perhaps the 2nd Century BCE. Obviously, the entire book is not written by the same writer, and it is addressed to three very distinct historical situations. We call these three divisions “First,” “Second” and “Third” Isaiah.
Although there are three distinct times, historical situations, and writers, there are two major themes that knit together the centuries, authors, and situations of this entire book. One theme is that God is behind all historical events. The other is that Jerusalem, its king, and the proper worship of God are of central importance to God’s People.
Now today’s passage comes from Second Isaiah. It was written in the mid 6th Century BCE during the time in Israel’s history we call “the Babylonian Exile.” In 586 BCE, forty or so years before, the Babylonians had sacked Jerusalem, destroyed the temple, and scattered God’s Chosen People, sending many into exile in Babylon. Now to try to understand the depth of this tragedy for Israel, we’ve got to realize how central Jerusalem and the Temple were to their religion. In a sense, the City and the Temple was the place where God resided. So that’s the only place where people went to worship. There were no local synagogues yet, so the centrality and holiness of that One place for the people cannot be over estimated.
This is the period of time when the Book of Lamentations was written, and it gives voice to the deep grief the exiled people were experiencing away from their home.
This is also the time for which PS 137 is written:
“By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept,
When we remembered you, O Zion (Jerusalem).
“As for our harps, we hung them up
On the trees in the midst of that land….
“How shall we sing the Lord’s song
Upon an alien soil?
“If I forget you, O Jerusalem,…”
The depth of their grief is profound. And so after close to 50 years of exile, comes a word of hope and comfort from Second Isaiah.
“Thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you…
“You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your offspring from the east, and from the west I will gather you; . . bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth—everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made.”
This promise of redemption is probably made shortly before Persia conquers Babylon, and Persia’s benevolent King Cyrus, invites God’s people to return and rebuild Jerusalem. There will be an end to their being scattered and separated from each other. There will be an end to their exile. They will go home.
Can you imagine what balm the prophet’s words were to the ears of the exiles? “You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.” God called them by name and will protect them!
Now, I wanted us to focus on this today because we at St. James are also in exile. We are away from our “sacred space” and many of our “holy things.” We know the pain and grief of this. But, unlike those in the Babylonian Exile, we have not been scattered and dispersed from our city or from each other. We are still together and learning this truth, “The church is not the building but the people (But people who need some kind of sacred space).” We’re also unlike those in the Babylonian Exile, because we haven’t “hung up our harps!” We seem to do a fairly great job of “singing the Lord’s song on an alien soil.” Maybe “alien” is a bit extreme for our circumstances, but we certainly can make music to the glory of God, on the “different” soil at Crissey Farm, Gideon’s Garden, and at our neighboring churches when we join with them.
We’re in the middle of the hard work of discernment. By the world’s standards, we just don’t have enough time; but in some mysterious way, I believe we are doing this discernment work in God’s Time…Kyros Time, that functions in a time and space beyond the clock. I believe in fact the time restraints we’ve been given by the insurance company are somehow part of the way God’s Spirit is working with us. In quoting a book title from C. S. Lewis, Bishop Scruton said, “Perhaps the deadline the insurance company is imposing is a ‘Severe Mercy’ for St. James.”
Yes, we’re in a tough time, and it will no doubt get harder before it gets easier. So I hope we can let the words of the ancient prophet minister to us in our exile, as they did to the Israelites in Babylon.
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”
As we move more deeply in our discernment of where God is calling St. James, be assured, this God of the Prophets loves us. We are precious in God’s sight. We are honored. This great God has called us by name, and God’s Spirit will be with us every step of the way. Amen.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Sermon, January 3, 2010, Christmas 2 C, by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
Some of you know I spent last week on retreat at the Society of St. John the Evangelist (SSJE) Monastery in Cambridge, MA. The Monastery is a beautiful, old building with a magnificent chapel that’s mostly made of very shiny marble. The seating is choir-style, so people sit across from each other, leaving a large, empty, rectangular floor space between. This space often has various liturgical, seasonal adornments.
This Christmas someone had gifted the chapel with an amazing crรจche that had been made in Palestine, where the brothers have a mission. The carved, olive-wood figures ranged from about 18”-24”. Some were gently painted with pastels. They were displayed, not all grouped together, but in a “journey scene” with 7 differently shaped slate slabs, like you might use as stepping stones in the garden.
These were arranged at different heights and spread out in a line over about 8 feet of the floor. The Holy Family was on the center, highest stone. The shepherds, sheep, and donkey spread out over three other stones, and the Wise Men and their camels came from the other direction on the three remaining stones. The stones with the figures were surrounded by tiny, live evergreen and date trees. Votive candles were scattered among the figures, rocks, and trees.
I went into the dark chapel several times just to contemplate the scene, lit ever so gently by the candlelight dancing on the marble floors. What struck me were the Wise Men. For one thing, they’d already arrived, as they probably have at many
of our crรจches at home, even though Epiphany’s not until Jan. 6. That’s the day
the Church celebrates the Wise Men’s official arrival at the manger.
Now these Wise Men, Magi, were probably astrologers, and probably not kings.
It’s the church’s tradition over the centuries that’s made them into kings. Tradition also gave them names and made them three in number. The Bible doesn’t tell us how many there were, or what their names were. What it does say is that they brought three gifts…gold, frankincense and myrrh. So we really know very little
about these mysterious ones from the East except that they were not Jews, and they were seeking a child who was to be born “The King of the Jews”. They’d followed a star to a place they did not know to find some kind of TRUTH they hoped the Child would provide.
Now as I sat in the Monastery looking at the Wise Men, I thought of the TRUTH they were seeking. What had they expected from this Child foretold by the stars?
And as they knelt to pay him homage, what did they see? How could it be that the hopes and fears of all the years, God’s very TRUTH itself, was wrapped in these swaddling clothes and lying in a manger? The wise men’s faces, lit by candlelight,
were transfixed. Even the animals seemed mesmerized by this Child. The holiness of the scene cannot be put into words…But it was there at the Monastery, as it was there in Bethlehem in the 1 C, and as it is here for us today, if we let ourselves really see the TRUTH that’s in the Child.
Whatever the Wise Men saw, they were not able to return home by the same road
they’d taken to get there. They’d been changed by the TRUTH they’d seen and could not do the conventional, worldly thing, which would have been to go back through Jerusalem and report to King Herod exactly where they found the Child.
Something happened to them in their encounter with the Child, and they trusted their dream, which warned them not to go back to Herod.
Somehow this Child had made believers of these “Gentile Wise”, and they became symbols of God’s Good News being meant for all the world, not just the Jews.
For us at St. James, I can imagine us right now kneeling at the manger. We’re encountering the Child, the TRUTH in our discernment process about moving forward as a parish. I believe the process the Child offers us is a process that honors everyone. It’s a process that really listens for God’s voice and for the wisdom in each other’s voices. This is based on the faith and knowledge that Christ is present in each of us. The goal in this spiritual discernment process is not to have our own way but to find the mind of Christ, believing that the Holy Spirit is an active presence who plays THE leading role as we go forward. So we must hold our own opinions lightly, so that the Spirit has room to move among us and within us. We must follow a star to a place we do not know to find a TRUTH we trust the Child will provide.
This is a process based on cooperation, not competition. That’s why it’s so important that the work that will be done in these next few weeks will be done as ONE TEAM with three committees that freely share their information and progress and do not act as three separate, competing groups. When the discernment work is done, we do not expect unanimity because we do, after all, come together as very different people with diverse ideas and values. However a common value I’ve heard expressed frequently is that we want to stay together. So although we don’t expect unanimity, we do pray for consensus, so that all of us understand and support the path that’s ultimately chosen for the future of St. James, even if it’s not our personal first choice. If we can find this consensus, I believe we will experience a sense of God’s peace. We’ll have a surge of joy and energy. Things will converge…come together and make sense. And our process will be fruitful.
If we can see the TRUTH and God’s goodness in the face of this spiritual discernment, in the face of the Child, then we, like the Wise Men, cannot return to Herod, who is so afraid of this Child that he would have him killed. We cannot go home by the ways of Herod’s world, by the paths of competition, win/lose mentality, or by decisions that don’t include really listening to all voices and honoring the movement of the Holy Spirit among us.
My dream, and I believe God’s dream, is that having seen the Child, we’ll not return to Herod, which would be deadly, but that we’ll set about “going home” by an entirely new and life-giving way.
Amen.
This Christmas someone had gifted the chapel with an amazing crรจche that had been made in Palestine, where the brothers have a mission. The carved, olive-wood figures ranged from about 18”-24”. Some were gently painted with pastels. They were displayed, not all grouped together, but in a “journey scene” with 7 differently shaped slate slabs, like you might use as stepping stones in the garden.
These were arranged at different heights and spread out in a line over about 8 feet of the floor. The Holy Family was on the center, highest stone. The shepherds, sheep, and donkey spread out over three other stones, and the Wise Men and their camels came from the other direction on the three remaining stones. The stones with the figures were surrounded by tiny, live evergreen and date trees. Votive candles were scattered among the figures, rocks, and trees.
I went into the dark chapel several times just to contemplate the scene, lit ever so gently by the candlelight dancing on the marble floors. What struck me were the Wise Men. For one thing, they’d already arrived, as they probably have at many
of our crรจches at home, even though Epiphany’s not until Jan. 6. That’s the day
the Church celebrates the Wise Men’s official arrival at the manger.
Now these Wise Men, Magi, were probably astrologers, and probably not kings.
It’s the church’s tradition over the centuries that’s made them into kings. Tradition also gave them names and made them three in number. The Bible doesn’t tell us how many there were, or what their names were. What it does say is that they brought three gifts…gold, frankincense and myrrh. So we really know very little
about these mysterious ones from the East except that they were not Jews, and they were seeking a child who was to be born “The King of the Jews”. They’d followed a star to a place they did not know to find some kind of TRUTH they hoped the Child would provide.
Now as I sat in the Monastery looking at the Wise Men, I thought of the TRUTH they were seeking. What had they expected from this Child foretold by the stars?
And as they knelt to pay him homage, what did they see? How could it be that the hopes and fears of all the years, God’s very TRUTH itself, was wrapped in these swaddling clothes and lying in a manger? The wise men’s faces, lit by candlelight,
were transfixed. Even the animals seemed mesmerized by this Child. The holiness of the scene cannot be put into words…But it was there at the Monastery, as it was there in Bethlehem in the 1 C, and as it is here for us today, if we let ourselves really see the TRUTH that’s in the Child.
Whatever the Wise Men saw, they were not able to return home by the same road
they’d taken to get there. They’d been changed by the TRUTH they’d seen and could not do the conventional, worldly thing, which would have been to go back through Jerusalem and report to King Herod exactly where they found the Child.
Something happened to them in their encounter with the Child, and they trusted their dream, which warned them not to go back to Herod.
Somehow this Child had made believers of these “Gentile Wise”, and they became symbols of God’s Good News being meant for all the world, not just the Jews.
For us at St. James, I can imagine us right now kneeling at the manger. We’re encountering the Child, the TRUTH in our discernment process about moving forward as a parish. I believe the process the Child offers us is a process that honors everyone. It’s a process that really listens for God’s voice and for the wisdom in each other’s voices. This is based on the faith and knowledge that Christ is present in each of us. The goal in this spiritual discernment process is not to have our own way but to find the mind of Christ, believing that the Holy Spirit is an active presence who plays THE leading role as we go forward. So we must hold our own opinions lightly, so that the Spirit has room to move among us and within us. We must follow a star to a place we do not know to find a TRUTH we trust the Child will provide.
This is a process based on cooperation, not competition. That’s why it’s so important that the work that will be done in these next few weeks will be done as ONE TEAM with three committees that freely share their information and progress and do not act as three separate, competing groups. When the discernment work is done, we do not expect unanimity because we do, after all, come together as very different people with diverse ideas and values. However a common value I’ve heard expressed frequently is that we want to stay together. So although we don’t expect unanimity, we do pray for consensus, so that all of us understand and support the path that’s ultimately chosen for the future of St. James, even if it’s not our personal first choice. If we can find this consensus, I believe we will experience a sense of God’s peace. We’ll have a surge of joy and energy. Things will converge…come together and make sense. And our process will be fruitful.
If we can see the TRUTH and God’s goodness in the face of this spiritual discernment, in the face of the Child, then we, like the Wise Men, cannot return to Herod, who is so afraid of this Child that he would have him killed. We cannot go home by the ways of Herod’s world, by the paths of competition, win/lose mentality, or by decisions that don’t include really listening to all voices and honoring the movement of the Holy Spirit among us.
My dream, and I believe God’s dream, is that having seen the Child, we’ll not return to Herod, which would be deadly, but that we’ll set about “going home” by an entirely new and life-giving way.
Amen.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
A Rejuvenated Traveler Returns – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
It is a funny feeling returning to a place you have left for the holidays. As soon as you walk back in the door, it is officially over, back to real life. While there is always a lingering yearning to walk back out the door and do it all over again, there is also a feeling of release getting back into the normal routine, especially when it is a routine that you find challenging and rewarding. After almost three weeks and countless miles crossing the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic Ocean, and the Iberian Peninsula, it feels good to be back in La Ceiba and back in school.
I had a wonderful vacation on the Pinkston extended-family excursion to visit Nell in northeastern Spain. Joined by our cousins from Houston Texas, we flew to Barcelona then drove across southern France, around mountains, through tunnels and over passes to the tiny former principality of Andorra. We arrived on Christmas Eve night and after settling into our small bed and breakfast, we were able to track down the English Speaking Church of Andorra, a bimonthly Anglican Church . Together we enjoyed a service of readings and Christmas carols followed by minced pies and mulled wine in a restored Romanesque chapel. While much of the structure had failed, they managed to keep of the old adornments and windows, maintaining the beautiful character and history of the church.
The family then spent the next fours days skiing the snow fields of the Pyrenees. We made a brief stop over to visit Nell’s host parents in Zaragoza, where my brother and I both studied our junior years in high school as well. Then it was back to Barcelona, where we spent a festive New Years feasting. The only tricky part was trying to eat traditional Spanish good luck grapes with lots of seeds in time with the chiming bells. I made it to four, got behind, then downed the whole handful. Very pleasant. Although I am not sure that was the proper procedure, I already felt very lucky to have such a great family to share the holidays with.
Hospitality is not usually a term given to us northeastern folk but I feel like it should be. I was very fortunate to have a place to crash for the 12 hours in between my flights in both directions. My rugby classmate and friend from Colby put me up for the night in NYC while I waited for my family to join me the next day in Newark. On the way back, old friends from Camp Hi-Rock met me in the Queens, took me out for Indian food (yum… there is nothing close to Indian food in Honduras) and even made sure I made it to Penn Station on time for my 1am train, as at that point I was a jet-lagged zombie.
While it was awesome to catch with friends whom I had not seen in six months, it meant even more as a traveler to be able to get my body and mind off the road. I love to see the world, but I find the time in the airports and bus stations to be absolutely draining and dehumanizing. Line up, wait, line up, strip down, pat down, sit down, wait, line up, sit down, wait, drink, wait, eat, wait: I feel like a steer being herded through a feed lot. Reflecting upon my initial journey down in April when I spent the night in the Atlanta airport, I realize I was never able to step out of that system and it made the traveling very difficult. Escaping Newark and the travel grind was true gift.
I faced two major delays in my return from Spain. The first was a two hour wait in Barcelona as the post-underpants bomber TSA regime now requires a full frisk and inspection of all passengers and their carry-ons. As it was 6am or so, I happily slept through most of it. The second delay interrupted my nap as my bus started shaking then quickly slowed to a halt on a dirt pull off on the side of the road about half way between San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba.
When the bus didn’t move and the DVD theme music to “Charlie Wilson’s War” played for about the tenth time, most of the passengers shuffled to the exits to see what was up. The driver and his assistant were head first up to their waists in the back diesel engine of the tour bus, working away with wrenches replacing a belt that had blown out. While they worked, I started chatting with some scraggly dressed college guys from the University of Utah. They were on their way to Utila for some cheap diving as they finished up their three week tour of Central America. Ten minutes went by, the engine slowly turned over, fired up and we were back in the bus.
I continued talking with them about their trip and plans and found that they had no place to stay in La Ceiba. At this point it was dark and raining and I had no idea where one might stay besides the equivalent Ritz. They seemed like good guys so I invited them to camp on the floor of my apartment and they offered me dinner at Wendy’s. Both party's were quite pleased with the deal. So we hiked from the bus station, dumped the stuff in the apartment, did a bit of grocery shopping and ate Bacon Double Cheeseburgers. They used my internet and guidebook before taking off the next morning to catch the early ferry.
It couldn’t have been a better way to end my journey. I was able to pay it forward with some hospitality of my own, meet some great guys and I now have a place to ski in Utah in the future. And even better, I was able to extend my vacation one more night.
“Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” Romans 12: 12-13
I had a wonderful vacation on the Pinkston extended-family excursion to visit Nell in northeastern Spain. Joined by our cousins from Houston Texas, we flew to Barcelona then drove across southern France, around mountains, through tunnels and over passes to the tiny former principality of Andorra. We arrived on Christmas Eve night and after settling into our small bed and breakfast, we were able to track down the English Speaking Church of Andorra, a bimonthly Anglican Church . Together we enjoyed a service of readings and Christmas carols followed by minced pies and mulled wine in a restored Romanesque chapel. While much of the structure had failed, they managed to keep of the old adornments and windows, maintaining the beautiful character and history of the church.
The family then spent the next fours days skiing the snow fields of the Pyrenees. We made a brief stop over to visit Nell’s host parents in Zaragoza, where my brother and I both studied our junior years in high school as well. Then it was back to Barcelona, where we spent a festive New Years feasting. The only tricky part was trying to eat traditional Spanish good luck grapes with lots of seeds in time with the chiming bells. I made it to four, got behind, then downed the whole handful. Very pleasant. Although I am not sure that was the proper procedure, I already felt very lucky to have such a great family to share the holidays with.
Hospitality is not usually a term given to us northeastern folk but I feel like it should be. I was very fortunate to have a place to crash for the 12 hours in between my flights in both directions. My rugby classmate and friend from Colby put me up for the night in NYC while I waited for my family to join me the next day in Newark. On the way back, old friends from Camp Hi-Rock met me in the Queens, took me out for Indian food (yum… there is nothing close to Indian food in Honduras) and even made sure I made it to Penn Station on time for my 1am train, as at that point I was a jet-lagged zombie.
While it was awesome to catch with friends whom I had not seen in six months, it meant even more as a traveler to be able to get my body and mind off the road. I love to see the world, but I find the time in the airports and bus stations to be absolutely draining and dehumanizing. Line up, wait, line up, strip down, pat down, sit down, wait, line up, sit down, wait, drink, wait, eat, wait: I feel like a steer being herded through a feed lot. Reflecting upon my initial journey down in April when I spent the night in the Atlanta airport, I realize I was never able to step out of that system and it made the traveling very difficult. Escaping Newark and the travel grind was true gift.
I faced two major delays in my return from Spain. The first was a two hour wait in Barcelona as the post-underpants bomber TSA regime now requires a full frisk and inspection of all passengers and their carry-ons. As it was 6am or so, I happily slept through most of it. The second delay interrupted my nap as my bus started shaking then quickly slowed to a halt on a dirt pull off on the side of the road about half way between San Pedro Sula to La Ceiba.
When the bus didn’t move and the DVD theme music to “Charlie Wilson’s War” played for about the tenth time, most of the passengers shuffled to the exits to see what was up. The driver and his assistant were head first up to their waists in the back diesel engine of the tour bus, working away with wrenches replacing a belt that had blown out. While they worked, I started chatting with some scraggly dressed college guys from the University of Utah. They were on their way to Utila for some cheap diving as they finished up their three week tour of Central America. Ten minutes went by, the engine slowly turned over, fired up and we were back in the bus.
I continued talking with them about their trip and plans and found that they had no place to stay in La Ceiba. At this point it was dark and raining and I had no idea where one might stay besides the equivalent Ritz. They seemed like good guys so I invited them to camp on the floor of my apartment and they offered me dinner at Wendy’s. Both party's were quite pleased with the deal. So we hiked from the bus station, dumped the stuff in the apartment, did a bit of grocery shopping and ate Bacon Double Cheeseburgers. They used my internet and guidebook before taking off the next morning to catch the early ferry.
It couldn’t have been a better way to end my journey. I was able to pay it forward with some hospitality of my own, meet some great guys and I now have a place to ski in Utah in the future. And even better, I was able to extend my vacation one more night.
“Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.” Romans 12: 12-13
Monday, November 30, 2009
Giving Thanks – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
For American families, Thanksgiving is synonymous with turkey, stuffing (or dressing if you prefer) and of course football. For the first time since I can remember, I did not watch any football on Thanksgiving (too busy) but I definitely had a “futbol” moment that has made me very thankful.
Futbol, or soccer to those living north of Mexico, is the passion of Honduras and every boy at Trinity spends his free moments playing on the concrete patio in the center of the school. Consequently, many balls end up stuck on the roof of the office that doubles as a backstop for errant shots. The afternoon before Thanksgiving, with the smell of turkey everywhere as Veronica prepared for the feast, one of the students asked me to go get a ball off the roof so the he could play. Never one to pass up the opportunity to climb anything, I proceeded to ascended from the terrace of the secondary school onto the roof of the office. As placed my foot on the roof, there was a crack and suddenly I was sitting on the roof, my foot dangling in space and the secretary looking up through the hole I just kicked through the ceiling. Apparently the roof has been bad for some time and several people have actually fallen all the way through. I only broke two panels so it was a quick fix but everyone was very thankful that I did not end up landing on the tile floor. I did get the ball though…
We have not had classes at Trinity since Wednesday to celebrate Thanksgiving and for the national elections that took place on Sunday. The students were still required to come in on Thursday for a half day of school. Even though it is not a holiday in Honduras, Veronica likes to celebrate Thanksgiving as a school because of its message and to show the students a side of American culture that isn't fast food and action movies. After an all-school Holy Eucharist, the kids hung out while half the teachers got everything ready for the big lunch. My first job was to help peel about 40 lbs. of boiled potatoes so we could mash them, using only my fingernails. I did not ask why they were not peeled before hand or where a peeler might be found; I just put my head down and started scratching. It took forever and I was thrilled when Veronica asked me to come with her to get my masher because the food processor was not producing the desired results. We also picked up carving knives. When I got into the kitchen, I saw four large turkeys and lots of kids sitting impatiently at long tables in the auditorium wondering when they were going to get fed. I washed my hands, grabbed to sharpest knife in the pile and went to work.
Luckily I have had plenty of training from my dear old dad but this was a little more quantity than the Pinkston household has ever had. I am not sure how Veronica managed to get four 20lbs + turkeys to La Ceiba(turkey is not a common food choice) but there wasn’t really time to ask questions. After removing all the limbs, I got into a good rhythm making big, thin slices of white meat. However, I realized that there was no way to make the dark meat look pretty and the kids probably wouldn’t care anyways. So I grabbed a paring knife, cut off any piece I could get a hold of and piled it on the tray. This went on for more than an hour nonstop. I cleaned every little piece of meat off the bird then moved on, the plates of meat disappearing as faster than I could replenish them. My back was turned to the auditorium so I never even got to see the kids eat but I guess they liked it. By the time I left the kitchen with my plate of meat, potatoes and stuffing (salad on Thanksgiving, not a chance), the only people left in the auditorium were the teachers and all the kids had gone home.
I promptly wolfed down my plate, washing it all down with about a half bottle of apple juice. My hands were so tired that they were shaking as I lifted my glass. It started pouring rain so I hung around for a bit, hoping it would let up. I hitched a ride home with the math teacher, who lives in the same barrio as I do. My feet still got wet crossing the river between the sidewalk and car but it certainly beat the alternative. I walked in the door at around 1pm, fell onto my leopard print bed, and did not wake up until 6 pm when Veronica called to tell me she would be picking me up in 10 minutes for Thanksgiving, round two. Veronica always invites people who don’t have any nearby family to join hers for the holiday. This was much more laid back family affair, with seven adults and six kids total. I got to carve their turkey too, but it was much smaller so it didn’t take much time. I just was happy to be able to sit down and enjoy it with everyone this time around.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday because of the food, the family and the reflection it brings about. This year, I have plenty to be thankful for: the health and safety of my family and their unfailing support of me in all my pursuits; Veronica Flowers and Trinity Episcopal School for giving me the opportunity to connect with students and learn how to teach; Javier, Nelson (the organist), and all my soccer buddies who do their best to give me some semblance of a social life; and Mike and Betty, who have adopted me as their Honduran son and always provide an ear to my daily frustrations. Most of all, I am thankful for my family at St. James Episcopal Church. I would not be here if it weren’t for your generous support and prayers. Even on the toughest, worst days, I think back on the applause I received the last time I was with the St. James’ congregation. I feel like I have my own long distance cheering squad pushing me onward and that’s what I do. I am truly blessed and honored to be part of such a dynamic congregation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Futbol, or soccer to those living north of Mexico, is the passion of Honduras and every boy at Trinity spends his free moments playing on the concrete patio in the center of the school. Consequently, many balls end up stuck on the roof of the office that doubles as a backstop for errant shots. The afternoon before Thanksgiving, with the smell of turkey everywhere as Veronica prepared for the feast, one of the students asked me to go get a ball off the roof so the he could play. Never one to pass up the opportunity to climb anything, I proceeded to ascended from the terrace of the secondary school onto the roof of the office. As placed my foot on the roof, there was a crack and suddenly I was sitting on the roof, my foot dangling in space and the secretary looking up through the hole I just kicked through the ceiling. Apparently the roof has been bad for some time and several people have actually fallen all the way through. I only broke two panels so it was a quick fix but everyone was very thankful that I did not end up landing on the tile floor. I did get the ball though…
We have not had classes at Trinity since Wednesday to celebrate Thanksgiving and for the national elections that took place on Sunday. The students were still required to come in on Thursday for a half day of school. Even though it is not a holiday in Honduras, Veronica likes to celebrate Thanksgiving as a school because of its message and to show the students a side of American culture that isn't fast food and action movies. After an all-school Holy Eucharist, the kids hung out while half the teachers got everything ready for the big lunch. My first job was to help peel about 40 lbs. of boiled potatoes so we could mash them, using only my fingernails. I did not ask why they were not peeled before hand or where a peeler might be found; I just put my head down and started scratching. It took forever and I was thrilled when Veronica asked me to come with her to get my masher because the food processor was not producing the desired results. We also picked up carving knives. When I got into the kitchen, I saw four large turkeys and lots of kids sitting impatiently at long tables in the auditorium wondering when they were going to get fed. I washed my hands, grabbed to sharpest knife in the pile and went to work.
Luckily I have had plenty of training from my dear old dad but this was a little more quantity than the Pinkston household has ever had. I am not sure how Veronica managed to get four 20lbs + turkeys to La Ceiba(turkey is not a common food choice) but there wasn’t really time to ask questions. After removing all the limbs, I got into a good rhythm making big, thin slices of white meat. However, I realized that there was no way to make the dark meat look pretty and the kids probably wouldn’t care anyways. So I grabbed a paring knife, cut off any piece I could get a hold of and piled it on the tray. This went on for more than an hour nonstop. I cleaned every little piece of meat off the bird then moved on, the plates of meat disappearing as faster than I could replenish them. My back was turned to the auditorium so I never even got to see the kids eat but I guess they liked it. By the time I left the kitchen with my plate of meat, potatoes and stuffing (salad on Thanksgiving, not a chance), the only people left in the auditorium were the teachers and all the kids had gone home.
I promptly wolfed down my plate, washing it all down with about a half bottle of apple juice. My hands were so tired that they were shaking as I lifted my glass. It started pouring rain so I hung around for a bit, hoping it would let up. I hitched a ride home with the math teacher, who lives in the same barrio as I do. My feet still got wet crossing the river between the sidewalk and car but it certainly beat the alternative. I walked in the door at around 1pm, fell onto my leopard print bed, and did not wake up until 6 pm when Veronica called to tell me she would be picking me up in 10 minutes for Thanksgiving, round two. Veronica always invites people who don’t have any nearby family to join hers for the holiday. This was much more laid back family affair, with seven adults and six kids total. I got to carve their turkey too, but it was much smaller so it didn’t take much time. I just was happy to be able to sit down and enjoy it with everyone this time around.
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday because of the food, the family and the reflection it brings about. This year, I have plenty to be thankful for: the health and safety of my family and their unfailing support of me in all my pursuits; Veronica Flowers and Trinity Episcopal School for giving me the opportunity to connect with students and learn how to teach; Javier, Nelson (the organist), and all my soccer buddies who do their best to give me some semblance of a social life; and Mike and Betty, who have adopted me as their Honduran son and always provide an ear to my daily frustrations. Most of all, I am thankful for my family at St. James Episcopal Church. I would not be here if it weren’t for your generous support and prayers. Even on the toughest, worst days, I think back on the applause I received the last time I was with the St. James’ congregation. I feel like I have my own long distance cheering squad pushing me onward and that’s what I do. I am truly blessed and honored to be part of such a dynamic congregation. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Turning the Power On – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
As I type, the sounds of smooth Latin love songs are shaking the table that my laptop is sitting on. All around me there are teens in skinny jeans and mothers trooping around herds of children. There is a stiff breeze from the industrial fan above my head and I am overcome with the smells of fried food and disinfectant. Where am I? Why the food court at the Mall of course, the only place within two square miles that has power right now.
It seems the power company is changing out some of the telephone poles that have been massacred by termites with concrete ones. This is a rather delicate task as the preferred method of telecommunications maintenance is just put a new wire next to the one that isn’t working and call it a day. Moving the tangled spider web is an all day affair however so I have had to relocate in order to get my work done. As there is no public library to speak of in the city and my favorite coffee shop is also off the grid, my next best option was a table across from Pop-Eye’s next to the twinkling Christmas tree with massive ornaments (it has a power outlet). Honduras just scored a goal on the television. People are going nuts!
I have been having trouble the last few weeks with the internet connection at my house and loading my blog entries onto the St. James website. I think it is sorted out for now though. I have posted my blogs for the last two weeks below for your reading pleasure.
The new after school tutoring program got off the ground this week which is exciting. The goal of the program is to identify the students that are failing or very close to failing, get some extra time in to figure out what is going on and hopefully turn it around. The students have to stay after school for an hour once a week for every subject they have below a 75 until the midterm (most of the participants are repeat offenders), when if they have pulled up their grades, they are no longer required to attend. Each of my science classes has a day for review while math and English are also participating.
The eighth grade managed to use a chaotic end of the day on Tuesday to run out the door before I could gently remind them that they had to stay after so I did not get to work with them. I cannot say I was disappointed as they had been bouncing off the walls all day but I will make sure to get them next week.
Wednesday was complicated by the two hour, after school detention that the entire secondary school got for misbehaving during their chorus classes over the past few weeks. My 7th grade after-school group ended up being the entire class. The first hour was actually really fun as we reviewed for the upcoming Life Science quiz on the chemistry of organisms. I set up a jeopardy game on the board and split the class into teams to answer questions using their notebooks. It got a little out of hand at the end as the students were getting a little over competitive and apparently I was not doing a very good job keeping the scores straight but it was an effective review.
The next hour was a bit of a challenge for multiple reasons. The teachers who imposed the detention had commitments and could not stay for the full time, which left myself and Veronica watching 4 classes. The students normally don’t eat breakfast, eat their main meal at 9:40 then eat as soon as they go home at 2pm. At 3:30, they were all flipping out because they did not bring food for detention and were dying of starvation. It did not help that 10th grader girls had found a way to have Wendy’s delivered and were eating it while walking by the classroom. I was very happy when 4:00pm finally came around and we could all go home.
Thursday and Friday were also all school detention but went a lot more smoothly. I spent Thursday with the 10th grade reviewing dimensional analysis, which just a fancy way of saying converting quantities from one unit to another. I put six problems on the board and they worked through them, yelling at me to come over and help them now and again. I had a great time because by the fourth problem they had figured it out and were just calling me over for a pat on the back and to lecture me on why I should find a Honduran girlfriend. I spent a half hour on Friday talking with the four boys who are all hovering around the 70 mark in my 9th grade Physical Science class, discussing strategies for studying and communicating when they are lost, which is often.
I am optimistic that the program will be successful for at least a couple of the students who are falling behind. There are a few however that seem to be giving up and not really caring, which is frustrating because it would not take much effort for them to turn it around and that attitude is contagious. A lot of it has to do with their English abilities as well as the fact that they have always been able to get by with the minimum effort. I am hoping that the extra attention will get them back on the right track. However, like the telephone poles, it is going to take some effort before I will be able to turn that light on.
It seems the power company is changing out some of the telephone poles that have been massacred by termites with concrete ones. This is a rather delicate task as the preferred method of telecommunications maintenance is just put a new wire next to the one that isn’t working and call it a day. Moving the tangled spider web is an all day affair however so I have had to relocate in order to get my work done. As there is no public library to speak of in the city and my favorite coffee shop is also off the grid, my next best option was a table across from Pop-Eye’s next to the twinkling Christmas tree with massive ornaments (it has a power outlet). Honduras just scored a goal on the television. People are going nuts!
I have been having trouble the last few weeks with the internet connection at my house and loading my blog entries onto the St. James website. I think it is sorted out for now though. I have posted my blogs for the last two weeks below for your reading pleasure.
The new after school tutoring program got off the ground this week which is exciting. The goal of the program is to identify the students that are failing or very close to failing, get some extra time in to figure out what is going on and hopefully turn it around. The students have to stay after school for an hour once a week for every subject they have below a 75 until the midterm (most of the participants are repeat offenders), when if they have pulled up their grades, they are no longer required to attend. Each of my science classes has a day for review while math and English are also participating.
The eighth grade managed to use a chaotic end of the day on Tuesday to run out the door before I could gently remind them that they had to stay after so I did not get to work with them. I cannot say I was disappointed as they had been bouncing off the walls all day but I will make sure to get them next week.
Wednesday was complicated by the two hour, after school detention that the entire secondary school got for misbehaving during their chorus classes over the past few weeks. My 7th grade after-school group ended up being the entire class. The first hour was actually really fun as we reviewed for the upcoming Life Science quiz on the chemistry of organisms. I set up a jeopardy game on the board and split the class into teams to answer questions using their notebooks. It got a little out of hand at the end as the students were getting a little over competitive and apparently I was not doing a very good job keeping the scores straight but it was an effective review.
The next hour was a bit of a challenge for multiple reasons. The teachers who imposed the detention had commitments and could not stay for the full time, which left myself and Veronica watching 4 classes. The students normally don’t eat breakfast, eat their main meal at 9:40 then eat as soon as they go home at 2pm. At 3:30, they were all flipping out because they did not bring food for detention and were dying of starvation. It did not help that 10th grader girls had found a way to have Wendy’s delivered and were eating it while walking by the classroom. I was very happy when 4:00pm finally came around and we could all go home.
Thursday and Friday were also all school detention but went a lot more smoothly. I spent Thursday with the 10th grade reviewing dimensional analysis, which just a fancy way of saying converting quantities from one unit to another. I put six problems on the board and they worked through them, yelling at me to come over and help them now and again. I had a great time because by the fourth problem they had figured it out and were just calling me over for a pat on the back and to lecture me on why I should find a Honduran girlfriend. I spent a half hour on Friday talking with the four boys who are all hovering around the 70 mark in my 9th grade Physical Science class, discussing strategies for studying and communicating when they are lost, which is often.
I am optimistic that the program will be successful for at least a couple of the students who are falling behind. There are a few however that seem to be giving up and not really caring, which is frustrating because it would not take much effort for them to turn it around and that attitude is contagious. A lot of it has to do with their English abilities as well as the fact that they have always been able to get by with the minimum effort. I am hoping that the extra attention will get them back on the right track. However, like the telephone poles, it is going to take some effort before I will be able to turn that light on.
When It Rains, It Floods – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
November 15, 2009
The rainy season has finally arrived in earnest here in La Ceiba and somebody already stole my umbrella (I suspect my neighbor). Go figure. We had a storm system come through about a month ago that got stuck for two days and caused so much rain that we actually had to close school because it was unsafe to drive on the roads (drainage is a luxury in Honduras). However, it has been sunny and hot since then. This week, the temperature dropped about ten degrees to the low 70s and it has rained on and off almost everyday.
I love it. For once I am not drenched in sweat and can stand to wear pants outside of the classroom. I can actually spend time outside walking around and not feel like I am going to drop dead from dehydration. I have been able to sleep with the air conditioning off. With the rooster finally gone to the country where he can sing the hourly watch to his hearts content and the local stray dogs staying home, all I can hear at night is the rain. Much more my style of climate.
The students at school however, have not adjusted so well. I have to laugh when I come into the classrooms because it reminds me of a Senior Center bingo game: every student bundled up in a sweater or a light jacket chair, the collars of their uniform popping out awkwardly and fidgeting with their notebooks, uncomfortable and wishing that class would get started already. Meanwhile I am more comfortable than I have ever been, I can actually hear myself because the fans are turned off and the windows are shut, and I don’t even have to ask the class to settle down. I hope this weather lasts for awhile.
One problem that the rain does bring is that my apartment is not particularly water proof, as I have mentioned before. There are no gutters above my kitchen windows and when rain hits the aluminum roof, it bounces pretty high. The windows leak even when they are shut but when they are open, anything on the counters is in the flood zone. I have found this out the hard way a couple of times, but I am now pretty well trained to close my windows anytime I leave the house. When I remember…
I came home from school on Wednesday this week during a down pour, soaking wet from foot to knee after wading across my street to get to the sidewalk, wondering if I had remembered to close my windows that morning. The sinking feeling in my stomach subsided as I climbed the stairs to the second level and saw that in fact the windows were tightly shut.
It had been a tough day in a tough week. I was on the wrong side of a tradition I did not understand that had taken a strangle hold on Trinity in the last two weeks. United Nations Day. “A spirited discussion and celebration of the history, parts, functions and future role of the UN as an intergovernmental organization?” Wrong. This was a two hour evening presentation to the parents where each class was required to study a country then come up with a dance, make a booth, and sell typical food of that culture. “Okay, maybe there is some relation to the UN.” Three such countries included Ancient Egypt, Ancient China, and Ancient Rome. “What?” And, in order to complete this project, the students needed three class hours per day, plus after school preparation time. Any other classes they had (ie Science class), they would blow off, too tired or distracted to really contribute let alone get the homework done. “Does anyone know who the UN Secretary General is or what he does?” AHHHHH!
Ready to sit on my couch, unwind, check up on the news and the Red Sox off-season activities, and eat a Granny Smith apple with peanut butter, I unlocked my door and walked in. Splash! My already wet sneaker was inundated in an inch of water. My entire kitchen was inundated with an inch of water. I searched for the source of the flood. I saw a thin silver stream flowing from the faucet, hitting a rippling lake of water and a few protruding plates and rolling gracefully over the counter, down the peach tiles and onto the floor in spectacular waterfall and I knew exactly what happened. My sink has a mind of its own. Some times it is silent, other times it drips, other times it flows in spits and spurts. It all depends on the water pressure, which can change at any minute. Some time during the day, my leaning tower of dirty dishes had succumbed to the forces of gravity, fallen into the sink, closed the drain and the rest was history.
Finding no better tool than an old yogurt container I had been using for Tupperware and my trash can, I proceed to bail and dump the contents of the floor for the next hour and a half. I filled three two-gallon trash cans before finally I grabbed the mop, spread the remaining water out, turned up the fan, and let evaporation do the rest while I enjoyed my apple. I realized then what a better mood I was in than when I had started the clean-up. Luckily I had not left anything important on the floor and the beauty of concrete construction had prevented any damage below. And to be honest, my apartment really needed a good mopping.
I took that positive energy to school the next day and instead of fighting the UN day program, I tried to be a little more flexible and see what I could do to get the project done. I even gave my 7th and 8th grade classes the afternoon off to get prepared for their presentation that evening. In an attempt to recognize what the day was supposed to be about, Veronica asked me to give the opening speech and discuss the UN briefly. Considering the speech was in English, the parents only speak Spanish, and the kids were all upstairs getting ready, I would say it absolutely flopped but it’s the thought that counts, right?
I was really proud to see all the students participating and performing. They went all out, choreographing their dances and making all the costumes by hand. The Pharaoh and Michael Jackson were in full regalia. There was a wardrobe malfunction that derailed one of the dances but that was the only drama over the entire night. I even got a free cheeseburger from the 9th grade booth (they did the USA) for picking up glitter for their American flag the day before. Even though it only has 9 stripes and 37 stars, I decided to put it up in my apartment afterwards. By the end, the students were completely wiped out but there was an aura of happiness and accomplishment that seemed to wash over everyone.
I am hoping that this upcoming week will be a little more normal and a lot more relaxed. After Noah’s flood, both figuratively and literally, I think we are all ready for a fresh, positive start. While I did not understand what UN day is to Hondurans and I hope I never have to deal with one again, I know I grew from the experience and I think everyone else did too.
The rainy season has finally arrived in earnest here in La Ceiba and somebody already stole my umbrella (I suspect my neighbor). Go figure. We had a storm system come through about a month ago that got stuck for two days and caused so much rain that we actually had to close school because it was unsafe to drive on the roads (drainage is a luxury in Honduras). However, it has been sunny and hot since then. This week, the temperature dropped about ten degrees to the low 70s and it has rained on and off almost everyday.
I love it. For once I am not drenched in sweat and can stand to wear pants outside of the classroom. I can actually spend time outside walking around and not feel like I am going to drop dead from dehydration. I have been able to sleep with the air conditioning off. With the rooster finally gone to the country where he can sing the hourly watch to his hearts content and the local stray dogs staying home, all I can hear at night is the rain. Much more my style of climate.
The students at school however, have not adjusted so well. I have to laugh when I come into the classrooms because it reminds me of a Senior Center bingo game: every student bundled up in a sweater or a light jacket chair, the collars of their uniform popping out awkwardly and fidgeting with their notebooks, uncomfortable and wishing that class would get started already. Meanwhile I am more comfortable than I have ever been, I can actually hear myself because the fans are turned off and the windows are shut, and I don’t even have to ask the class to settle down. I hope this weather lasts for awhile.
One problem that the rain does bring is that my apartment is not particularly water proof, as I have mentioned before. There are no gutters above my kitchen windows and when rain hits the aluminum roof, it bounces pretty high. The windows leak even when they are shut but when they are open, anything on the counters is in the flood zone. I have found this out the hard way a couple of times, but I am now pretty well trained to close my windows anytime I leave the house. When I remember…
I came home from school on Wednesday this week during a down pour, soaking wet from foot to knee after wading across my street to get to the sidewalk, wondering if I had remembered to close my windows that morning. The sinking feeling in my stomach subsided as I climbed the stairs to the second level and saw that in fact the windows were tightly shut.
It had been a tough day in a tough week. I was on the wrong side of a tradition I did not understand that had taken a strangle hold on Trinity in the last two weeks. United Nations Day. “A spirited discussion and celebration of the history, parts, functions and future role of the UN as an intergovernmental organization?” Wrong. This was a two hour evening presentation to the parents where each class was required to study a country then come up with a dance, make a booth, and sell typical food of that culture. “Okay, maybe there is some relation to the UN.” Three such countries included Ancient Egypt, Ancient China, and Ancient Rome. “What?” And, in order to complete this project, the students needed three class hours per day, plus after school preparation time. Any other classes they had (ie Science class), they would blow off, too tired or distracted to really contribute let alone get the homework done. “Does anyone know who the UN Secretary General is or what he does?” AHHHHH!
Ready to sit on my couch, unwind, check up on the news and the Red Sox off-season activities, and eat a Granny Smith apple with peanut butter, I unlocked my door and walked in. Splash! My already wet sneaker was inundated in an inch of water. My entire kitchen was inundated with an inch of water. I searched for the source of the flood. I saw a thin silver stream flowing from the faucet, hitting a rippling lake of water and a few protruding plates and rolling gracefully over the counter, down the peach tiles and onto the floor in spectacular waterfall and I knew exactly what happened. My sink has a mind of its own. Some times it is silent, other times it drips, other times it flows in spits and spurts. It all depends on the water pressure, which can change at any minute. Some time during the day, my leaning tower of dirty dishes had succumbed to the forces of gravity, fallen into the sink, closed the drain and the rest was history.
Finding no better tool than an old yogurt container I had been using for Tupperware and my trash can, I proceed to bail and dump the contents of the floor for the next hour and a half. I filled three two-gallon trash cans before finally I grabbed the mop, spread the remaining water out, turned up the fan, and let evaporation do the rest while I enjoyed my apple. I realized then what a better mood I was in than when I had started the clean-up. Luckily I had not left anything important on the floor and the beauty of concrete construction had prevented any damage below. And to be honest, my apartment really needed a good mopping.
I took that positive energy to school the next day and instead of fighting the UN day program, I tried to be a little more flexible and see what I could do to get the project done. I even gave my 7th and 8th grade classes the afternoon off to get prepared for their presentation that evening. In an attempt to recognize what the day was supposed to be about, Veronica asked me to give the opening speech and discuss the UN briefly. Considering the speech was in English, the parents only speak Spanish, and the kids were all upstairs getting ready, I would say it absolutely flopped but it’s the thought that counts, right?
I was really proud to see all the students participating and performing. They went all out, choreographing their dances and making all the costumes by hand. The Pharaoh and Michael Jackson were in full regalia. There was a wardrobe malfunction that derailed one of the dances but that was the only drama over the entire night. I even got a free cheeseburger from the 9th grade booth (they did the USA) for picking up glitter for their American flag the day before. Even though it only has 9 stripes and 37 stars, I decided to put it up in my apartment afterwards. By the end, the students were completely wiped out but there was an aura of happiness and accomplishment that seemed to wash over everyone.
I am hoping that this upcoming week will be a little more normal and a lot more relaxed. After Noah’s flood, both figuratively and literally, I think we are all ready for a fresh, positive start. While I did not understand what UN day is to Hondurans and I hope I never have to deal with one again, I know I grew from the experience and I think everyone else did too.
In Memory of Reina Melisa – from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
11/9/2009
It was a very sad week for Holy Trinity Episcopal School. A girl in the fifth grade, Reina Melisa, died suddenly on Thursday morning. While the story has changed several times in a likely effort to protect the doctors and nurses involved, it is probable that she died from an allergic reaction to medication while being treated at a local clinic for Dengue fever. They rushed her to the hospital but were unable to save her. She was 11 years old.
The students and staff at Trinity were informed as we arrived at school on Thursday morning but the secondary school continued with classes as usual, offering time for students to ask questions and reflect but not disrupt the schedule too much. I joined Mike, Betty, and Mary Ann, the assistant principal in charge of the primary school and we walked over to the funeral home, which is literally right next door to the school, to meet the parents and give our condolences while the students had their recess.
On Friday, the students had classes for an hour and a half then made cards for the family. At 9am we went down into the auditorium for the funeral service. The fifth grade class sat at the front while the rest of the school sat at the back. As friends and family members filed in, they placed flower arrangements on the steps of the stage behind the altar so that there was a solid back drop of bright colors.
The immediate family members wheeled in the casket from next door, which was closed but had a viewing window on the top and the service began. The 5th graders read scripture in both English and Spanish and Reverend Neri spoke, followed by an older sister and an uncle of Reina. I stood at the side with some of the 10th graders and they followed along with me in the Book of Common Prayer. The most poignant part of the service for me was how every five minutes or so, one of the classes would stand up from their seats and move to the back to accommodate for people filing in late for the service. First the 9th, then the 8th, then the 7th, and so on until there were no students sitting and it was standing room only in the auditorium.
At the end of the service, there was a long caravan to the cemetery, which is about 20 minutes east of the city, outside of town. I rode out with Neri, Veronica, and Licenia, one of the custodians, and we followed the gray Dodge caravan, which serves as the funeral home’s hearse. There is no parking to speak of at the cemetery so everyone just pulled off the highway and walked the quarter mile, dodging the tractor trailers screaming by. The cemeteries in Honduras are on the more marginal land, this particular one on a hillside next to a stream. The gravestones are more horizontal than vertical and the entire grave is decorated, not just around the headstone, with plastic flowers and other trinkets.
There were close to a hundred mourners at the graveside. The service continued with more memories of Reina followed by a series of official condolences from the hospital and from the places where the parents worked. The family gathered around the casket one last time and cried together while a woman led the mourners in songs. Then the casket was lower into the ground and it was over.
I have become accustomed to seeing funeral gatherings on almost a daily basis, as Trinity is in the center of the funeral district of La Ceiba. There is Funerario San Jose next to the school, which has wakes going on almost every day. The in-town offices of the cemetery are one block south, complete with a full window front display of their selection of coffins and memorials. One block to the east is the poor mans funeral home, where you can see the owner making the coffins out of rough-hewn planks on his back porch. While death is a part of life, it is always a tragedy when a child dies. But as the sister said during the services, God has a plan for everyone and we must have faith that Reina is in a better place.
The day brought back memories of when I returned to Deerfield Academy the year after I graduated for the memorial service of a student who graduated with me and had died while away at college. I only knew Gordie as an acquaintance, but I was still glad to be there, wearing my green Class of 2004 tie, showing my support to his family and my classmates. In the same way, I never knew Reina and was only vaguely familiar with the smiling face that was on the front of the service bulletin. I felt strange being there and witnessing the people who loved her so much grieving her death when I had not even met her. Even though I was very much an outsider, I hope that being there in my white polo with the Trinity shield did a little to ease their pain and show that even although her time on this Earth was short, it meant something and she will be missed.
It was a very sad week for Holy Trinity Episcopal School. A girl in the fifth grade, Reina Melisa, died suddenly on Thursday morning. While the story has changed several times in a likely effort to protect the doctors and nurses involved, it is probable that she died from an allergic reaction to medication while being treated at a local clinic for Dengue fever. They rushed her to the hospital but were unable to save her. She was 11 years old.
The students and staff at Trinity were informed as we arrived at school on Thursday morning but the secondary school continued with classes as usual, offering time for students to ask questions and reflect but not disrupt the schedule too much. I joined Mike, Betty, and Mary Ann, the assistant principal in charge of the primary school and we walked over to the funeral home, which is literally right next door to the school, to meet the parents and give our condolences while the students had their recess.
On Friday, the students had classes for an hour and a half then made cards for the family. At 9am we went down into the auditorium for the funeral service. The fifth grade class sat at the front while the rest of the school sat at the back. As friends and family members filed in, they placed flower arrangements on the steps of the stage behind the altar so that there was a solid back drop of bright colors.
The immediate family members wheeled in the casket from next door, which was closed but had a viewing window on the top and the service began. The 5th graders read scripture in both English and Spanish and Reverend Neri spoke, followed by an older sister and an uncle of Reina. I stood at the side with some of the 10th graders and they followed along with me in the Book of Common Prayer. The most poignant part of the service for me was how every five minutes or so, one of the classes would stand up from their seats and move to the back to accommodate for people filing in late for the service. First the 9th, then the 8th, then the 7th, and so on until there were no students sitting and it was standing room only in the auditorium.
At the end of the service, there was a long caravan to the cemetery, which is about 20 minutes east of the city, outside of town. I rode out with Neri, Veronica, and Licenia, one of the custodians, and we followed the gray Dodge caravan, which serves as the funeral home’s hearse. There is no parking to speak of at the cemetery so everyone just pulled off the highway and walked the quarter mile, dodging the tractor trailers screaming by. The cemeteries in Honduras are on the more marginal land, this particular one on a hillside next to a stream. The gravestones are more horizontal than vertical and the entire grave is decorated, not just around the headstone, with plastic flowers and other trinkets.
There were close to a hundred mourners at the graveside. The service continued with more memories of Reina followed by a series of official condolences from the hospital and from the places where the parents worked. The family gathered around the casket one last time and cried together while a woman led the mourners in songs. Then the casket was lower into the ground and it was over.
I have become accustomed to seeing funeral gatherings on almost a daily basis, as Trinity is in the center of the funeral district of La Ceiba. There is Funerario San Jose next to the school, which has wakes going on almost every day. The in-town offices of the cemetery are one block south, complete with a full window front display of their selection of coffins and memorials. One block to the east is the poor mans funeral home, where you can see the owner making the coffins out of rough-hewn planks on his back porch. While death is a part of life, it is always a tragedy when a child dies. But as the sister said during the services, God has a plan for everyone and we must have faith that Reina is in a better place.
The day brought back memories of when I returned to Deerfield Academy the year after I graduated for the memorial service of a student who graduated with me and had died while away at college. I only knew Gordie as an acquaintance, but I was still glad to be there, wearing my green Class of 2004 tie, showing my support to his family and my classmates. In the same way, I never knew Reina and was only vaguely familiar with the smiling face that was on the front of the service bulletin. I felt strange being there and witnessing the people who loved her so much grieving her death when I had not even met her. Even though I was very much an outsider, I hope that being there in my white polo with the Trinity shield did a little to ease their pain and show that even although her time on this Earth was short, it meant something and she will be missed.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
All Saints Sunday Sermon, November 1, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
On this All Saints Sunday, I have a quiz for you. It’s from Charles Schultz, the creator of the Peanuts comic strip. So, here’s the quiz: (You needn’t answer out loud.)
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America crown.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s World Series winners.
How did you do?
The point is, most of us don’t remember yesterday’s headliners…even these, who are the best in their fields. The applause die. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten, the accolades and certificates are eventually buried with their owners.
Here’s another quiz (answer silently):
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Do better?
(You’ll have an opportunity to name these silently or aloud during the first communion music while the cantors chant The Litany of the Saints.)
Charles Schultz observes the people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.
On this All Saints Sunday and Stewardship Ingathering Sunday, we’re focusing on the people, the “saints” we’ve known, and who have made a real difference in our lives. These are the saints, with a small “s.” They may still be alive or ones we’ve known who have died, but they’re the ones who practice God’s love and blessing in their ordinary, yet extraordinary ways. On All Saints Day, we remember these saints as well as the ones
formally acknowledged by the Church like Peter, Andrew, James and John; Mary, Martha, Julian and Theresa.
When I think of the people, the mentors, who have made all the difference in my life…the saints I’ve known…I am overwhelmed with gratitude. They are the people
of Christ Church Detroit who taught me as a young adult that even I am a child of God, loved and capable of loving. Then I think of the supervisors and members of my Clinical Pastoral Education groups, who taught me to take risks by sharing something of my real self with others. Through them I learned to trust…one of the hardest things I’ve ever learned to do. And there are the Spiritual Directors who have helped me become aware of God’s constant presence. And there’s my Uncle Lee: So wise. So curious. So fair. So powerful. So generous. So humble. And the teachers and priests who opened the Bible to me, and helped me see God’s word is alive and living today…That our stories are part of “The Story” of God’s Salvation History. And I think of the parishes I’ve served, and especially you of St. James, who have shown me over and over again how God’s Spirit is alive and active in community.
When I think of these, and I imagine when you think of the saints God has placed in your lives, the feeling is overwhelming gratitude. It is in such a posture of gratitude that we can begin to see life as abundant, and then have the capacity to become a blessing to others. When we’re grateful, then we know the truth of that little stewardship sermon we preach every Sunday at the Offertory, “All things come of thee, O God. And of thine own have we given thee.”
The mentors and communities that have really mattered in our lives were given by God. We didn’t earn them or necessarily deserve them. They just came into our lives, and blessed us in ways we could never have asked for or imagined. So it is in God’s economy. So it is in the Communion of Saints, of which we are a part. We too can be the ones God uses to make a difference in someone’s life. God can use us to be a blessing to others. We cannot make that happen, but we can fill our hearts with gratitude for all that’s been given us. When we do that, we will become generous, and my hunch is that generosity will spill over into God’s world as blessing…
“For the saints of God are just folk like [you and] me, and I mean to be one too!” Don’t you?” Amen.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America crown.
4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s World Series winners.
How did you do?
The point is, most of us don’t remember yesterday’s headliners…even these, who are the best in their fields. The applause die. Awards tarnish. Achievements are forgotten, the accolades and certificates are eventually buried with their owners.
Here’s another quiz (answer silently):
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Do better?
(You’ll have an opportunity to name these silently or aloud during the first communion music while the cantors chant The Litany of the Saints.)
Charles Schultz observes the people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. They are the ones that care.
On this All Saints Sunday and Stewardship Ingathering Sunday, we’re focusing on the people, the “saints” we’ve known, and who have made a real difference in our lives. These are the saints, with a small “s.” They may still be alive or ones we’ve known who have died, but they’re the ones who practice God’s love and blessing in their ordinary, yet extraordinary ways. On All Saints Day, we remember these saints as well as the ones
formally acknowledged by the Church like Peter, Andrew, James and John; Mary, Martha, Julian and Theresa.
When I think of the people, the mentors, who have made all the difference in my life…the saints I’ve known…I am overwhelmed with gratitude. They are the people
of Christ Church Detroit who taught me as a young adult that even I am a child of God, loved and capable of loving. Then I think of the supervisors and members of my Clinical Pastoral Education groups, who taught me to take risks by sharing something of my real self with others. Through them I learned to trust…one of the hardest things I’ve ever learned to do. And there are the Spiritual Directors who have helped me become aware of God’s constant presence. And there’s my Uncle Lee: So wise. So curious. So fair. So powerful. So generous. So humble. And the teachers and priests who opened the Bible to me, and helped me see God’s word is alive and living today…That our stories are part of “The Story” of God’s Salvation History. And I think of the parishes I’ve served, and especially you of St. James, who have shown me over and over again how God’s Spirit is alive and active in community.
When I think of these, and I imagine when you think of the saints God has placed in your lives, the feeling is overwhelming gratitude. It is in such a posture of gratitude that we can begin to see life as abundant, and then have the capacity to become a blessing to others. When we’re grateful, then we know the truth of that little stewardship sermon we preach every Sunday at the Offertory, “All things come of thee, O God. And of thine own have we given thee.”
The mentors and communities that have really mattered in our lives were given by God. We didn’t earn them or necessarily deserve them. They just came into our lives, and blessed us in ways we could never have asked for or imagined. So it is in God’s economy. So it is in the Communion of Saints, of which we are a part. We too can be the ones God uses to make a difference in someone’s life. God can use us to be a blessing to others. We cannot make that happen, but we can fill our hearts with gratitude for all that’s been given us. When we do that, we will become generous, and my hunch is that generosity will spill over into God’s world as blessing…
“For the saints of God are just folk like [you and] me, and I mean to be one too!” Don’t you?” Amen.
Monday, November 2, 2009
¿Chapeaste? - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
The first term is done! I have trouble believing that I am saying that. My final exams are finished and corrected, and after some nifty work with Excel, all my grades are calculated and ready for the homeroom teachers to tabulate into report cards. Exhale. Now onto second term.
But first, some reflection. All in all, I am pleased with the progress that my students and I have made in the first ten weeks of classes. But their is always room for improvement.
Material-wise, we did not manage to cover anything close to what I anticipated, but that can be blamed on over a week's worth of lost classes do to rain, soccer, coups, and special programs and maybe some overly ambitious goals on my part. Of the material that we covered, I would say that half the students have a good idea of what is going on, a quarter are struggling but managing to keep their head above water, an eighth are mastering the material and need to be challenged more, and an eighth have no idea what class they are in at any given time, let alone what the Cell Theory is. Not bad considering this is the first time any of the students have had challenging science classes.
I am not the hardest teacher in the school (that goes to the math teacher, who is also in her 20s) but certainly not the easiest. While my class averages are on the low side at 80%, only 5 out of 50 students failed the first term. Labs need improvement but now that I have a better idea how quickly we move through subjects and how much prep time labs take, I hope to get in more this term. My handwriting is good enough so that I only get yelled at once or twice a class for illegible scribble on the white board. That has probably been my biggest improvement.
The most crucial thing I want to change for next term, and hopefully the rest of the year, is the cheating. To be clear, not all of my students cheat. But a lot of them do. They cheat on homework, quizzes, labs, even tests. And they are terrible at it. They are always the last kids to finish an exam. The cheaters who don’t know the answer cheat off others who don’t know the answer so like a virus, one random answer that has nothing to do with the question ends up on a half dozen tests. That’s assuming they manage to get the answer under the correct question, which often does not happen. It is almost comical.
They saved the best for the final. One boy, “Manuel,” passed another boy “Vicente” his test to copy. The answers of course were terribly wrong but that was only half of the problem. Vicente, after copying the test, wrote his name on the top of the both tests, not sure which one was his. After erasing them both, he figured out which one was his and handed the other test back to Manuel. Manuel then turned in the test, forgetting to write his own name on it. When he came up to me after the exam to fix his error, I noticed the wrong name erased. I also noted the perfect copy of the life cycle of an active virus, right down to an equal number of virus bursting out of the host cell (the question was on Pasteur’s experiment proving biogenesis). Game. Set. Match.
Mr. Mike gave both boys a good sit down and by the looks on their faces, that will be the end of their cheating. As for the rest of their classmates, it is less optimistic. There is very little cultural value placed on academic honesty here. They are concerned with the ends and not the means. The studious kids won’t let the others cheat off them, but that just depletes the brain trust. The rest just seem to want to pass the class with the least amount of effort possible and that usually means cheating off anyone convenient. For now, I think fear will keep their eyes down on their papers. I am hopeful that by the end of my time here, it will be pride in their education. I am not giving up.
“And if [the shepherd] finds [the sheep], truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost.” Matthew 18: 13-14
But first, some reflection. All in all, I am pleased with the progress that my students and I have made in the first ten weeks of classes. But their is always room for improvement.
Material-wise, we did not manage to cover anything close to what I anticipated, but that can be blamed on over a week's worth of lost classes do to rain, soccer, coups, and special programs and maybe some overly ambitious goals on my part. Of the material that we covered, I would say that half the students have a good idea of what is going on, a quarter are struggling but managing to keep their head above water, an eighth are mastering the material and need to be challenged more, and an eighth have no idea what class they are in at any given time, let alone what the Cell Theory is. Not bad considering this is the first time any of the students have had challenging science classes.
I am not the hardest teacher in the school (that goes to the math teacher, who is also in her 20s) but certainly not the easiest. While my class averages are on the low side at 80%, only 5 out of 50 students failed the first term. Labs need improvement but now that I have a better idea how quickly we move through subjects and how much prep time labs take, I hope to get in more this term. My handwriting is good enough so that I only get yelled at once or twice a class for illegible scribble on the white board. That has probably been my biggest improvement.
The most crucial thing I want to change for next term, and hopefully the rest of the year, is the cheating. To be clear, not all of my students cheat. But a lot of them do. They cheat on homework, quizzes, labs, even tests. And they are terrible at it. They are always the last kids to finish an exam. The cheaters who don’t know the answer cheat off others who don’t know the answer so like a virus, one random answer that has nothing to do with the question ends up on a half dozen tests. That’s assuming they manage to get the answer under the correct question, which often does not happen. It is almost comical.
They saved the best for the final. One boy, “Manuel,” passed another boy “Vicente” his test to copy. The answers of course were terribly wrong but that was only half of the problem. Vicente, after copying the test, wrote his name on the top of the both tests, not sure which one was his. After erasing them both, he figured out which one was his and handed the other test back to Manuel. Manuel then turned in the test, forgetting to write his own name on it. When he came up to me after the exam to fix his error, I noticed the wrong name erased. I also noted the perfect copy of the life cycle of an active virus, right down to an equal number of virus bursting out of the host cell (the question was on Pasteur’s experiment proving biogenesis). Game. Set. Match.
Mr. Mike gave both boys a good sit down and by the looks on their faces, that will be the end of their cheating. As for the rest of their classmates, it is less optimistic. There is very little cultural value placed on academic honesty here. They are concerned with the ends and not the means. The studious kids won’t let the others cheat off them, but that just depletes the brain trust. The rest just seem to want to pass the class with the least amount of effort possible and that usually means cheating off anyone convenient. For now, I think fear will keep their eyes down on their papers. I am hopeful that by the end of my time here, it will be pride in their education. I am not giving up.
“And if [the shepherd] finds [the sheep], truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones should be lost.” Matthew 18: 13-14
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Balancing the Social with the Science - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
The typical complaints have started pouring in since I handed out the review sheets for the classes. “We have to know all this for the exam.” Well, yes, that is what we covered in the last 9 weeks. “Mr. Jake…” At this point, the sob stories start pouring in. I then ask them what they do between the time school gets out at 2pm and they go to bed. The usual answer is eat, but nobody really elaborates further. The idea of spending 45 minutes a night reviewing for the upcoming exam is too distasteful to justify debate.
Mike and Betty summarized when I first I arrived a key cultural difference between Hondurans and Americans that I have found to ring pretty true in the last 10 weeks I have spent in La Ceiba. Americans for the most part are task oriented. A goal is set and pursued, and professional relationships are built around that end. Hondurans are people oriented. The relationship always takes precedent over the goal and the goal itself is often influenced and even changed by the relationships.
This weekend, I got to see this cultural value in action. The civics teacher, Ms. Olga, had a birthday last week. Birthday’s are a huge deal in Honduras so we sang to her in school and many student brought her homemade cards. But instead of celebrating her birthday at home with her husband and children, Olga and a couple parents threw a party for almost half of the secondary school and included Mike, Betty and me. They reserved a space at a private picnic / park down the road near the ocean, rented one of the buses that can fit 10 comfortably but always cram about 30 in them, and bused most of the 7th, 8th and 9th grade down for a Saturday of swimming, soccer, music, and barbeque.
The students spent hours playing in the stream running through the park, which has been dammed with sand bags to a depth of about 4 feet, throwing each other in, tossing around the soccer ball, and having a good time with each other outside of the classroom. Mike, Betty and I served as the supervisors but they encouraged us to join them in the water. I played soccer with the boys as well, who decided that pulling out my chest hair was the funniest game ever created. Wonderful. Olga’s husband brought his DJ equipment so the most popular Latin pop hits were blasting all day. The students were quick to find the microphone and while they urged their classmates to dance, it seemed as if the real goal was to hear their voice at 80 decibels. Olga and another mom were happy to run the traditional Honduran barbecue of beef, chicken, refried beans (always), tortillas and chimol, a fresh tomato salad. However, they too found time to play in the water and walk out to the beach.
While I cannot remember anytime in my educational career that a teacher threw a party for 25 students on a weekend on her own time, this is very typical at Trinity. Hondurans love to plan and throw special events for any reason. In class, the attitude is very similar. The students love the opportunity to chat, hang out, and plan events and activities. On music day, I spend my lunch break with the 8th grade boys, jamming and singing songs on guitars that stay in tune for about 5 minutes at a time. It is a congenial social atmosphere that makes working at Trinity very enjoyable. However, this makes getting things done more than a struggle at times. When I remind them that I need to check their homework so that we can begin the class lecture and maybe finish the chapter, they give me a look of shock and almost disdain, as if my priorities were completely ridiculous.
My goal has not been to break the cultural values that the students have but to try to find some middle ground. While I still hold high expectations, I build into my lesson plans time for talking about last night’s soccer game or how funny I sound when I speak Spanish. My biggest focus and challenge has been convincing my students that they are capable of working hard, they are smart enough to master the material, they can be strong students if they put in the time and effort. If they do that, there will be more time to hang out. While I don’t think they like it very much, I think that they have at least begun to accept and buy into the idea. I look forward to next week’s results to see where we are and where we will go from here.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Who Are We?
Here's a new video about Who Episcopalians Are from King of Peace parish in Kingsland, GA. Bravo to the team who put this together! What do you think?
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Sermon, October 11, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
The Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story, of the rich man who asks Jesus, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Of course the story varies some in each Gospel. For example in Matthew’s version he’s a “young” man, in Luke he’s a “ruler,” but in today’s Mark, he’s just “a man.” Another thing that’s unique in Mark’s telling is the part about, how Jesus “looked on him and loved him.”
The Love gives us a context for understanding Jesus’ tough demands of this man. Jesus knows the man does not feel the closeness with God that he desires, because he asks for eternal life, life with God. Jesus also knows the man lives an upright life, and, Jesus knows what is needed.
After Jesus names off the commandments, the man says he has never murdered, committed adultery, stolen things, lied, defrauded anyone, and he had always honored his parents. He is a good man in his relations with others. Jesus knows that already. It’s interesting, though, when Jesus lists these commandments, he only lists 6 of the 10—the ones about human relationships. Jesus leaves out the ones about loving God, putting nothing above God, respecting God in thought, word and deed, and setting aside time to worship God. For some reason, Jesus leaves those off the list. Maybe Jesus knows the man can’t answer “yes” to the commandments about his relationship with God. But, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said,‘You lack one thing; go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’”
Now this is TOUGH LOVE. Jesus “loved him” enough to ask him for what the man apparently valued most: His wealth and many possessions Jesus asked for these not because wealth and possessions are bad in themselves, but because these are the things that got in the man’s way of his experiencing life in God, Eternal Life. His material possessions had become the man’s idols, the things he placed above God. They’d become an end in themselves, instead of a means to an end.
I think this story focuses us on the commandments about having no other gods and about not making idols (even though Jesus didn’t explicitly list these). Jesus knows our human tendency to put wealth, material things, power and prestige at the top of our lists. By our actions, our schedules, and our checkbook stubs, many of us may show these material things to be the most important things in our lives. And although I don’t think God despises this material world (After all, God made it!) or our human tendency to enjoy material things (After all, God made us like we are!), God knows we cannot find spiritual contentment when we make these our #1 priority. When we do that, it’s like we’ve built an altar to them, and they become our idols, what we really worship.
As Jesus longed for the rich man to find his true heart’s desire, God longs for us to find ours. God looks on us with love and invites us to give away, get rid of, give up anything that weights us down spiritually. God wants us to finally get inside and learn the true essence of keeping God’s law…God wants us not to be so concerned with the Letter of the Law, but with the Spirit of the Law, which is always LOVE.
Maybe that’s why Jesus suggests to the rich man that he sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. This would not only free him of his idol, but also such sharing of wealth would embody LOVE and the Spirit of the law. This would give the man the life with God he longed for.
As we begin our Stewardship Season, I hope each of us will look at our priorities, and we can easily do that by looking at our checkbooks and appointment calendars. Where we spend our time and our money tells us about our priorities. In a sense, the discernment process we’re in as a parish community at St. James should include this kind of “Priority examination” as well. As individuals, families, and parish family, what are the things that keep us from life with God/eternal, abundant life?
A preacher from Virginia tells the story of how his daughter asked “What would you do if you won the $526 million VA State Lottery?” . . . “Give it all away?” The preacher deflected the question, “I don’t buy lottery tickets. I don’t believe in the lottery. So we don’t have to worry about what I’d do if I won.” Over the next hours and days, the daughter’s question haunted the preacher. He confessed to himself he thought he might quit his job, even though his vocation meant the world to him. He mused he could travel, attend seminars, explore Christianity all over the world, all at his leisure. And he wouldn’t have to worry about money to put his children through college or for retirement. He could just preach and pastor when and where he wanted to, not because he had to. Oh yes, and he’d be generous. He’d give lots to the church. He’d share. And with so much, he’d hardly notice all he gave away. ‘Wouldn’t really have to sacrifice. The preacher admitted he had these thoughts. Then he realized what a creature of our consumer, materialistic world he really was.
He realized his daughter was not really asking about money but about priorities and the real point of life. So he pondered: Are we here to have as many enriching experiences as we can? To accumulate all the wealth we can? To buy all the things we can? What about service? What about making a contribution? What about being responsive to the great needs of others in the world? What about sacrifice?
So the preacher said to himself, “It’s God’s mercy that I don’t play the lottery, for I don’t know if I could face the temptation if I won.” Then he concluded, “Thanks to my daughter’s question, I know what answer this particular Christian soul needs to give, ‘What would you do if you won? Give it all away?’ YEP!…Give it all away.”
(J. Christopher Price, quoted in Synthesis)
God looks on us and loves us. God wants us to be free and to love deeply, serve others, travel light in this life, so that we can enjoy life with God both now and always. Amen.
The Love gives us a context for understanding Jesus’ tough demands of this man. Jesus knows the man does not feel the closeness with God that he desires, because he asks for eternal life, life with God. Jesus also knows the man lives an upright life, and, Jesus knows what is needed.
After Jesus names off the commandments, the man says he has never murdered, committed adultery, stolen things, lied, defrauded anyone, and he had always honored his parents. He is a good man in his relations with others. Jesus knows that already. It’s interesting, though, when Jesus lists these commandments, he only lists 6 of the 10—the ones about human relationships. Jesus leaves out the ones about loving God, putting nothing above God, respecting God in thought, word and deed, and setting aside time to worship God. For some reason, Jesus leaves those off the list. Maybe Jesus knows the man can’t answer “yes” to the commandments about his relationship with God. But, “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said,‘You lack one thing; go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’”
Now this is TOUGH LOVE. Jesus “loved him” enough to ask him for what the man apparently valued most: His wealth and many possessions Jesus asked for these not because wealth and possessions are bad in themselves, but because these are the things that got in the man’s way of his experiencing life in God, Eternal Life. His material possessions had become the man’s idols, the things he placed above God. They’d become an end in themselves, instead of a means to an end.
I think this story focuses us on the commandments about having no other gods and about not making idols (even though Jesus didn’t explicitly list these). Jesus knows our human tendency to put wealth, material things, power and prestige at the top of our lists. By our actions, our schedules, and our checkbook stubs, many of us may show these material things to be the most important things in our lives. And although I don’t think God despises this material world (After all, God made it!) or our human tendency to enjoy material things (After all, God made us like we are!), God knows we cannot find spiritual contentment when we make these our #1 priority. When we do that, it’s like we’ve built an altar to them, and they become our idols, what we really worship.
As Jesus longed for the rich man to find his true heart’s desire, God longs for us to find ours. God looks on us with love and invites us to give away, get rid of, give up anything that weights us down spiritually. God wants us to finally get inside and learn the true essence of keeping God’s law…God wants us not to be so concerned with the Letter of the Law, but with the Spirit of the Law, which is always LOVE.
Maybe that’s why Jesus suggests to the rich man that he sell his possessions and give the proceeds to the poor. This would not only free him of his idol, but also such sharing of wealth would embody LOVE and the Spirit of the law. This would give the man the life with God he longed for.
As we begin our Stewardship Season, I hope each of us will look at our priorities, and we can easily do that by looking at our checkbooks and appointment calendars. Where we spend our time and our money tells us about our priorities. In a sense, the discernment process we’re in as a parish community at St. James should include this kind of “Priority examination” as well. As individuals, families, and parish family, what are the things that keep us from life with God/eternal, abundant life?
A preacher from Virginia tells the story of how his daughter asked “What would you do if you won the $526 million VA State Lottery?” . . . “Give it all away?” The preacher deflected the question, “I don’t buy lottery tickets. I don’t believe in the lottery. So we don’t have to worry about what I’d do if I won.” Over the next hours and days, the daughter’s question haunted the preacher. He confessed to himself he thought he might quit his job, even though his vocation meant the world to him. He mused he could travel, attend seminars, explore Christianity all over the world, all at his leisure. And he wouldn’t have to worry about money to put his children through college or for retirement. He could just preach and pastor when and where he wanted to, not because he had to. Oh yes, and he’d be generous. He’d give lots to the church. He’d share. And with so much, he’d hardly notice all he gave away. ‘Wouldn’t really have to sacrifice. The preacher admitted he had these thoughts. Then he realized what a creature of our consumer, materialistic world he really was.
He realized his daughter was not really asking about money but about priorities and the real point of life. So he pondered: Are we here to have as many enriching experiences as we can? To accumulate all the wealth we can? To buy all the things we can? What about service? What about making a contribution? What about being responsive to the great needs of others in the world? What about sacrifice?
So the preacher said to himself, “It’s God’s mercy that I don’t play the lottery, for I don’t know if I could face the temptation if I won.” Then he concluded, “Thanks to my daughter’s question, I know what answer this particular Christian soul needs to give, ‘What would you do if you won? Give it all away?’ YEP!…Give it all away.”
(J. Christopher Price, quoted in Synthesis)
God looks on us and loves us. God wants us to be free and to love deeply, serve others, travel light in this life, so that we can enjoy life with God both now and always. Amen.
Sermon, October 4, 2009 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
For those of us who are divorced, or thinking of divorce, or even know someone who is divorced (and that surely includes all of us), today’s gospel about divorce & remarriage is just a hard scripture passage. It would be much easier to go for the second half of the reading…the part about Jesus taking the little children up in his arms and blessing them. The second part is easier, but somehow I think I need to talk about the first.
It initially seems strange that Jesus, who is usually disagreeing with the legalistic attitudes of the Pharisees, this time seems to be “one upping” them when it comes to being legalistic about divorce. They ask “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Actually in those days, the legality of divorce was hardly the question. According to Moses’ Law (Deuteronomy 24:1) a bill of divorce could be drawn up by a man if his wife had committed some “indecency.” Divorce was a legally accepted practice in the First Century when Jesus lived.
So the Pharisees real question was probably really about what constituted an “indecency.” One school of thought says it’s a single offense of adultery. Another says any number of things could constitute “indecency” like talking with another man in public, not having children, speaking disrespectfully to in-laws, maybe even burning dinner!
The Pharisees were trying to get Jesus either to take sides or somehow contradict the Law. They wanted to trip him up, as they had tried many other times. And like those many other times, Jesus side-steps the trap. He takes the conversation to much higher ground. For one thing, Jesus creates more parity between men and women. In those days women couldn’t divorce men. Only men could write a certificate of dismissal. But Jesus says, “If she divorces her husband…” making it a possibility for the woman to have equal rights (and responsibilities) in the relationship.
I don’t think in this passage Jesus wants to talk so much about DIVORCE as God’s intentions for MARRIAGE and relationship. It’s not just for convenience, or for the end of having children, or for the prestige it might bring. Jesus goes back to Genesis and God’s original intention for the way creation should be…
“God made them male and female…for this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” Marriage is about relationship/companionship. Two individuals mystically become One.
Now the verse that follows this in Genesis Chapter 2 (which Jesus doesn’t quote here) is, “And the man and his wife were naked, and were not ashamed.” That comes at the very end of Genesis 2, so it serves as the transition from the first and second chapters of Genesis, which describe God’s intentions for Creation, to Genesis 3, “The Fall”… Adam, Eve, and the snake in the Garden. It’s a metaphorical story about how it is these creatures God made, these human beings, came not to be in harmony with God, themselves, each other and the rest of creation. One of the signs of this Fall is that the man and woman began to be ashamed of their nakedness, and needed fig leaves to cover themselves up. It seems to me in these verses from Genesis, Jesus holds up the ideal of deep relationship, of how we are meant to live in relationship: Relationships of intimacy of mind, body and spirit. Relationships where the two are mystically joined as One. Relationships where each partners’ love for the other makes their heart’s desire the well-being of their partner, the desire for the partner to be whole in mind, body and spirit.
Such intimacy is core to marriage as God intends it, and that means the partners feel safe enough in the relationship that they can dare to be all of who they are. They can trust each other enough to “bare” all that’s in their hearts and minds, and not be ashamed. That’s God’s ideal, the way God intended things to be from the beginning. That’s what Jesus is reminding the Pharisees and us of in today’s Gospel. God wants us to live in relationships of deep trust and love, relationships that hold the well-being of the partner’s mind, body, and spirit in highest regard. Such relationships are truly gifts from God.
As we begin our Stewardship Campaign this month, I encourage each of us to be good stewards of the precious relationships God gives us. Remember being a steward is not ownership, but being entrusted with the care of something/someone who ultimately belongs to God. So we’re called to care for our relationships at home, work, church, and in the world; to be open and honest with those dearest to us; to make their well-being a priority, as they make ours their priority. God knows that’s not always how our relationships are: We can go from Genesis 1 & 2—God’s Intentions—to Genesis 3—The Fall in the blink of an eye. We mess things up in a myriad of ways. Maybe we enter a relationship that’s abusive or oppressive to start with in an environment where trust is impossible and true love cannot exist. Or maybe the relationship starts out ok but somehow over time, things happen. We feel ashamed. We feel rejected. We feel resentment, and we start the deceptive process of “covering up” our real selves. We’re afraid to show our true feelings and afraid to make ourselves vulnerable again.
Sometimes there’s a way back. Sometimes it seems there’s not.
God knows that, in fact, that’s why Jesus came, because God knows we can’t always get it right. But God gets it right, and no matter how we mess up, God’s perfect love is always there, always trustworthy. As they say in the Black Church, “God is good…all the time!” God’s grace and mercy and forgiveness are always there when in our frailty, we cannot love our partner as One, when we cannot fulfill God’s intentions in our relationships. And when we can admit THAT, with all its pain and sense of failure, then we have the opportunity of going to Jesus as a little child, and being taken up into his arms, and being blessed. Amen.
It initially seems strange that Jesus, who is usually disagreeing with the legalistic attitudes of the Pharisees, this time seems to be “one upping” them when it comes to being legalistic about divorce. They ask “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” Actually in those days, the legality of divorce was hardly the question. According to Moses’ Law (Deuteronomy 24:1) a bill of divorce could be drawn up by a man if his wife had committed some “indecency.” Divorce was a legally accepted practice in the First Century when Jesus lived.
So the Pharisees real question was probably really about what constituted an “indecency.” One school of thought says it’s a single offense of adultery. Another says any number of things could constitute “indecency” like talking with another man in public, not having children, speaking disrespectfully to in-laws, maybe even burning dinner!
The Pharisees were trying to get Jesus either to take sides or somehow contradict the Law. They wanted to trip him up, as they had tried many other times. And like those many other times, Jesus side-steps the trap. He takes the conversation to much higher ground. For one thing, Jesus creates more parity between men and women. In those days women couldn’t divorce men. Only men could write a certificate of dismissal. But Jesus says, “If she divorces her husband…” making it a possibility for the woman to have equal rights (and responsibilities) in the relationship.
I don’t think in this passage Jesus wants to talk so much about DIVORCE as God’s intentions for MARRIAGE and relationship. It’s not just for convenience, or for the end of having children, or for the prestige it might bring. Jesus goes back to Genesis and God’s original intention for the way creation should be…
“God made them male and female…for this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” Marriage is about relationship/companionship. Two individuals mystically become One.
Now the verse that follows this in Genesis Chapter 2 (which Jesus doesn’t quote here) is, “And the man and his wife were naked, and were not ashamed.” That comes at the very end of Genesis 2, so it serves as the transition from the first and second chapters of Genesis, which describe God’s intentions for Creation, to Genesis 3, “The Fall”… Adam, Eve, and the snake in the Garden. It’s a metaphorical story about how it is these creatures God made, these human beings, came not to be in harmony with God, themselves, each other and the rest of creation. One of the signs of this Fall is that the man and woman began to be ashamed of their nakedness, and needed fig leaves to cover themselves up. It seems to me in these verses from Genesis, Jesus holds up the ideal of deep relationship, of how we are meant to live in relationship: Relationships of intimacy of mind, body and spirit. Relationships where the two are mystically joined as One. Relationships where each partners’ love for the other makes their heart’s desire the well-being of their partner, the desire for the partner to be whole in mind, body and spirit.
Such intimacy is core to marriage as God intends it, and that means the partners feel safe enough in the relationship that they can dare to be all of who they are. They can trust each other enough to “bare” all that’s in their hearts and minds, and not be ashamed. That’s God’s ideal, the way God intended things to be from the beginning. That’s what Jesus is reminding the Pharisees and us of in today’s Gospel. God wants us to live in relationships of deep trust and love, relationships that hold the well-being of the partner’s mind, body, and spirit in highest regard. Such relationships are truly gifts from God.
As we begin our Stewardship Campaign this month, I encourage each of us to be good stewards of the precious relationships God gives us. Remember being a steward is not ownership, but being entrusted with the care of something/someone who ultimately belongs to God. So we’re called to care for our relationships at home, work, church, and in the world; to be open and honest with those dearest to us; to make their well-being a priority, as they make ours their priority. God knows that’s not always how our relationships are: We can go from Genesis 1 & 2—God’s Intentions—to Genesis 3—The Fall in the blink of an eye. We mess things up in a myriad of ways. Maybe we enter a relationship that’s abusive or oppressive to start with in an environment where trust is impossible and true love cannot exist. Or maybe the relationship starts out ok but somehow over time, things happen. We feel ashamed. We feel rejected. We feel resentment, and we start the deceptive process of “covering up” our real selves. We’re afraid to show our true feelings and afraid to make ourselves vulnerable again.
Sometimes there’s a way back. Sometimes it seems there’s not.
God knows that, in fact, that’s why Jesus came, because God knows we can’t always get it right. But God gets it right, and no matter how we mess up, God’s perfect love is always there, always trustworthy. As they say in the Black Church, “God is good…all the time!” God’s grace and mercy and forgiveness are always there when in our frailty, we cannot love our partner as One, when we cannot fulfill God’s intentions in our relationships. And when we can admit THAT, with all its pain and sense of failure, then we have the opportunity of going to Jesus as a little child, and being taken up into his arms, and being blessed. Amen.
GOOOOOOLLLLL! from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
There are guns firing, horns blasting, fireworks going off, and people cheering in the streets all over the city of La Ceiba this evening as two international sides pulled off spectacular results and secured positions in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa. Carlos Pavon, the proverbial goat of the Honduras-USA match after missing late from the penalty stripe for the tie, scored the lone goal in Honduras’ 1-0 win over El Salvador. Immediately, every television in the country switched to the Costa Rica-USA match and boy was it exciting. Costa Rica, needing a win to secure third place in the CONCACAF, took an early two goal lead into the 72th minute. But the US clawed back and secured the draw and first place in the group on an unlikely header goal by Jonathan Bornstein in the 5th minute of stoppage time. The tie gave Honduras the third place berth, their first in more than two decades and the celebrations began. No chance I will be getting anything done in class tomorrow.
It is impossible to understate the importance of this World Cup qualification to the people of Honduras right now. Their political establishment a mess, the fall off in the world economy compounded by the loss of aid and tourism have made life difficult for a country with 50% of its population living below the poverty line. But they have their futbol team. For old and young, male and female, the Honduran national team is their team. They know the players, they know the schedule, they know what is at stake, and they watch every game from start to finish with a passionate intensity. Victory and defeat are shared experiences that seem to be the glue that binds them together through these difficult times.
At Trinity, the students have been anticipating the final games of qualifying for weeks. They were particularly excited about the USA-Honduras match, which was played in nearby San Pedro Sula on Saturday. I made a bet with the 10th grade boys that if Honduras won the game, they could give me whatever hair cut they wanted, as long as I did not bleed. If the United States won, they would have to buy me a baleada (tortilla with red beans and fried egg, a staple here) and lemonade (which comes in a sandwich bag with a straw) a day for a week. Needless to say, the morning recesses have been quite filling the past two days. I ended up buzzing my head anyways, but only because it is so hot down here and I was having way too many bad hair days at school.
Today was Honduras Spirit Day at school in anticipation of the big game against El Salvador this evening. As a fundraiser, the Trinity allowed students to break the uniform dress code and wear jeans and a Honduras jersey (they are selling them on every corner) if they paid 10 lempiras (about 60 cents). Almost all of the students and many of the teachers came sporting their blue and white colors and a couple even wore face paint. Ms. Betty’s 8th and 9th grade English classes used the new vocabulary they had been working on to come up with cheers. Everyone was in a great mood and although it wasn’t the most productive of days, the whole school had an energy to it that made it a fun place to be.
The interim president just declared a nation holiday to celebrate the qualification. Trinity will be having classes tomorrow, but I am guessing that more than a handful of my students will not be in school and everyone else will be too excited to be interested in Newton’s First Law of Motion or converting liters to cubic centimeters. Even with first quarter exams coming up and a lot of material left to cover, I can’t really complain. Right now, this country needs something to celebrate. And I have a tasty snack coming my way.
It is impossible to understate the importance of this World Cup qualification to the people of Honduras right now. Their political establishment a mess, the fall off in the world economy compounded by the loss of aid and tourism have made life difficult for a country with 50% of its population living below the poverty line. But they have their futbol team. For old and young, male and female, the Honduran national team is their team. They know the players, they know the schedule, they know what is at stake, and they watch every game from start to finish with a passionate intensity. Victory and defeat are shared experiences that seem to be the glue that binds them together through these difficult times.
At Trinity, the students have been anticipating the final games of qualifying for weeks. They were particularly excited about the USA-Honduras match, which was played in nearby San Pedro Sula on Saturday. I made a bet with the 10th grade boys that if Honduras won the game, they could give me whatever hair cut they wanted, as long as I did not bleed. If the United States won, they would have to buy me a baleada (tortilla with red beans and fried egg, a staple here) and lemonade (which comes in a sandwich bag with a straw) a day for a week. Needless to say, the morning recesses have been quite filling the past two days. I ended up buzzing my head anyways, but only because it is so hot down here and I was having way too many bad hair days at school.
Today was Honduras Spirit Day at school in anticipation of the big game against El Salvador this evening. As a fundraiser, the Trinity allowed students to break the uniform dress code and wear jeans and a Honduras jersey (they are selling them on every corner) if they paid 10 lempiras (about 60 cents). Almost all of the students and many of the teachers came sporting their blue and white colors and a couple even wore face paint. Ms. Betty’s 8th and 9th grade English classes used the new vocabulary they had been working on to come up with cheers. Everyone was in a great mood and although it wasn’t the most productive of days, the whole school had an energy to it that made it a fun place to be.
The interim president just declared a nation holiday to celebrate the qualification. Trinity will be having classes tomorrow, but I am guessing that more than a handful of my students will not be in school and everyone else will be too excited to be interested in Newton’s First Law of Motion or converting liters to cubic centimeters. Even with first quarter exams coming up and a lot of material left to cover, I can’t really complain. Right now, this country needs something to celebrate. And I have a tasty snack coming my way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)