The Mainline Minister

Celebrate! Christ Conquers! Christ Reigns! Christ Commands! With these words of the traditional Easter proclamation, we declare Jesus' triumph over darkness, despair, and death itself.  We assert that that the promise of the kingdom is real, that the new creation is here.  We rejoice that in God all things are indeed possible.  With these words we celebrate the joy, the power, and the beauty of the resurrection, giving thanks to the One who has made us, saved us, and loves us fully. May you and I, may all of creation, revel this Easter day in the glory of God's saving grace, healing power, and reconciling, redemptive love!

Listen closely and you'll hear it.  The first stirrings as the orchestra prepares to play.  Perhaps you've been caught off guard.  The performance isn't scheduled to begin until later.  But the musicians are just so excited, they have to start tuning up.  They're excited about the concert, about the music they're going to play.  Welcome to Holy Saturday. On this day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday we expect things to be quiet, especially if we're from the Reformed or Free church traditions, which normally don't have a special service of worship this day.  But don't you doubt that something amazing is happening.  All creation will be affected.  And some can already sense something seismic is on the horizon and are impatient to get on with the celebrating.  Toes are tapping, fingers are drumming.  Welcome to Holy Saturday. The random notes will begin to weave into tunes, the tunes into something more complex, until a great, grand sympho

This afternoon many Christians will contemplate Christ's last words from the cross.  With Jesus, we'll confront all of the pain, the loss, the suffering, the alienation that are part and parcel of the human condition.  With Jesus, we'll know what it means to feel alone and forsaken.  Jesus' lament from the cross is disturbing, unsettling.  If he can doubt God, what hope is there for us?  Providentially, it is through Jesus' questions that we are shown how to live lives of faith.  For through Christ, we are reminded that one of the paradoxes of faith is that to believe, we have to allow ourselves to doubt.  Without doubt, without questions, we cannot have an honest relationship with God.  Jesus knew this, and wants us to know this. So, on this darkest of days of the liturgical calendar, and on the dark days each of us will surely experience, we are free to ask, to wonder, to question, doing so in the assurance that God will be listening, comforting, emb

One member of our Lenten Reflection community pointed out to me, quite correctly, that mandatum is Latin for charge, commandment, or commission.  So how'd I come up with service?  Chalk up my error to a sleep-deprived conflation of what Jesus commanded or charged his friends to do (love others as he loved them, ie serve) with the act of commanding or charging.  And now that we're done with our chalking up, let's heed Jesus' mandatum!

Are you up for some Latin?  I thought you were. Mandatum, the root of Maundy, means "to serve."  This evening, we'll gather for worship and service will be the central theme of our time together, reflected in the story of Jesus washing his disciples' feet and our lay and ordained ministers sharing the Lord's Supper with the congregation.  All of this is a powerful reminder of why Jesus taught, healed, performed miracles, confronted abusive power, died on a cross, and rose from the grave: not that we might subscribe to propositions but that we might live fully as part of God's new creation, doing so by serving God's people through hope, with faith, and in love.

Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday.  Which is followed by Good Friday.  Then comes Holy Saturday.  And finally, triumphantly, Easter Sunday.  But before all of this is ... Wednesday.  Wednesday without a modifier.  Just plain old generic Wednesday. And yet. And yet. This generic middle day of the week is the day that the Lord has made. This is a sacred hour, a blessed time.  It's a moment in which we can collect our thoughts, catch our breath, reflect and contemplate on our Lenten journey before we dive into the triduum, the Three Days, that commence tomorrow evening with the Maundy Thursday service and culminate in the Easter Vigil. May we all feel the presence of God's reconciling, restorative love on this no-name, off-brand, frill-free, generic Wednesday.

As w e cont inue our journey into Holy Week, the Daily Office invites us into a n unusu al visit with Jesus (see below).   So me foreigners are interested in seeing Jesus.  The message is relayed to him.  Hi s response?  One of his challenging sayings .  T hese words are difficult not because they're difficult to understand but rather because they make a demand of us.  If we want to live, we must first die. This, if we've been open to the Spirit, is what we've been trying to do during Lent.  Through prayer, reflecti on, and repentanc e, w e seek to die so that we may begin a new life in which we grow closer to God . Today, I invite you to join me in reading this passage from John, praying over its message, and then asking God t hat we might be blessed to be like a kernel of wh eat, buried in t he ground, waiting to burst forth in new and wond rous ways. John 12:20-26 Now some Greeks were among those who had gone up to worship at the feast. So these approached Philip

The parade's over, the crowd has dispersed.  The marching bands have decamped and the vendors have moved on.  All that's left is the confetti, lots of it, that litters the street.  True, the procession was a blast, the music amazing, the baton twirlers skilled and the floats magical.   But that was then and this is now and there's this mess which needs to be cleaned up. Welcome to the day after Palm Sunday! Perhaps we should call it Messy Monday Messy Monday, of course, need not be restricted to just this day.  It's really something that can be observed throughout the season.  Lent, after all, is all about cleaning up.  It's about putting our spiritual houses back in order, of attending to the mess that sin and alienation that have drawn us away from God and one another.  House chores aren't fun, but they're necessary.  This is true whether the cleaning up is of the vacuuming and mopping variety or the spiritual kind.  Fortunately, once done, we

Nothing says you've arrived in American life like a ticker tape parade in downtown Manhattan.  War heroes, astronauts, even a pianist have all received this ultimate accolade.  But left unmentioned is what happens after the big celebration.  What's next for the honoree?  More praise, more triumph?  Or will that moment in the "Canyon of Heroes" be the apex of a life, the point from which all heads downhill? This is the kind of question that hovered over the entry of Jesus into Jerusalem.  We know how the story will unfold.  But that day, nobody in the crowd did.  There may have been uncertainty, there may have been enthusiasm, there may have been confidence.  But there could not be surety. This Palm Sunday, set aside what you know about that parade.  Imagine yourself in the crowd.  Let yourself go.  Be caught up.  And see where the Spirit might take you this Holy Week.

The appointed psalm for today is 137.  It's powerful, it's evocative.  And it's very, very disturbing.  Read it and if you disagree, let me know; we'll need to talk. Psalm 137 137:1 By the rivers of Babylon we sit down and weep when we remember Zion. 2 On the poplars in her midst we hang our harps, 3 for there our captors ask us to compose songs; those who mock us demand that we be happy, saying: “Sing for us a song about Zion!” 4 How can we sing a song to the Lord in a foreign land? 5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand be crippled! 6 May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, and do not give Jerusalem priority over whatever gives me the most joy. 7 Remember, O Lord, what the Edomites did on the day Jerusalem fell. They said, “Tear it down, tear it down, right to its very foundation!” 8 O daughter Babylon, soon to be devastated! How blessed will be the one who repays you for what you dished o

This morning millions of NCAA March Madness brackets have been or are in the process of being thrown away, thanks to Harvard's unexpected 98-92 upset win over Utah in the first round of the NCAA tournament.  The outcome was totally, wholly unanticipated.  The Crimson, claiming the Ivy League's guaranteed berth, were expected to play gamely, lose, and go home.  Instead, they get to advance to the next round, knowing that even if they lose their next game, they're still, as trite as it may sound, winners. Losers as winners?  How? It's all a matter of perspective.  How we see things, how we understand the state of affairs, how we approach the moment shape our perceptions.  Hopefully, this is something we've experienced during this Lenten season.  Repentance and reformation can seem like hard, unpleasant work.  But they can also provide an opening into a new way of being, to renewal.  Pain can indeed lead to gain. I'm not counting on Harvard winning it

I was lucky enough to grow up listening to WQXR, New York City's classical radio station.  Thanks to the internet, I can still tune in to my favorite source of classical music.  Beginning today, and for the next ten days, 'QXR will be playing all Bach, all the time.  Frankly, I can't think of a better musical companion with whom to spend the rest of Lent. What about you?  Is there a composer or musician whose work conveys to you something of the divine?  Maybe it's Bach.  Or maybe Bono.  Maybe your preferred genre is classical.  Or maybe it's country.  God, not surprisingly, can speak to us through music of all kinds.  Indeed, there are times he'll choose to catch our attention through musical forms we've always avoided. I invite you to join me in listening for God in music today and through the remainder of Lent.  In doing so, may you, may I, be strengthened and empowered as we engage in the work, the call of Lenten reflection, repentance and

Amazing, wasn't it?  At 7:02 this morning spring arrived.  Daffodils poked through the ground.  Buds appeared on trees.  Temperatures reached into the sixties and robins could be heard singing.  Not a bit of snow nor ice could be seen anywhere. What?  This wasn't your experience today? Okay, it wasn't mine either.  Still, even if it looked and felt like winter, it was most definitely spring. The kingdom of God is like this, too.  We may see a fallen world, we may stumble into sin, we may stray from God.  But the kingdom is here.  And with each passing day, it's presence is made known to us in new and wondrous ways, ways that will ultimately transform us if only we'll be open to the possibility.  It's within this context that we observe Lent, that we journey to Easter. So happy spring.  And welcome to the kingdom.

If the weather were a person, I'd have to give him or her my compliments.  Just when it looked like we were done with snow and the like, a storm arrived on the last official day of winter.  Now, this being New England, we know that blizzards can make appearances well into early spring.  But our ability to complain, to grouse is limited when the snow falls during winter time -- even if it's at the proverbial eleventh hour.  "Don't blame me," we can hear the weather say, "I'm following the schedule.  I've got until early in the morning of March 20 to snow on you, so don't fault me for doing so!" Well, just as the weather can make the most of every moment at its disposal, so can we.  We may be thinking about Easter, but we still have a lot of Lent ahead of us.  There's still time to repent, to renew, to reorient ourselves.  We can do this today, tomorrow, and right up until the very end of Lent.  And when it feels we're sque

I've been drawing a blank this morning as I've tried to write a reflection.  Try as I might, nothing has been coming to me.  No prayers that I've read, no devotionals that I've consulted have spoken to me.  Even today's scripture passages from John and Jeremiah, which are rich texts, ripe for exegesis and explication, have failed to elicit a response from me. This may be a good thing. No.  Really. Here's why: during Lent, and indeed throughout the year, it's helpful to be reminded that there will be times when words fail us, when our spiritual imaginations may not be ready to take flight.  These are the moments when we we might be frustrated but should consider being grateful.  For this is when the blank, empty slates of our minds have the most room to offer the Holy Spirit, which seeks to fill us. So here we are.  I've provided you with a reflection.  Which is all well and fine, but what I really hope you get today is an overflowing helping

Erin go bragh! You didn't think I'd pass up a gimme like this, did you? Given the way our society has secularized St. Patrick's Day, it's easy to forget that Patrick was not only a Christian but a man of the church who evangelized in a hostile environment.  No corned beef, no beer, no shamrocks or leprechauns for him.  Just good old fashioned spreading of the Gospel. During Lent, we have a chance to consider when we might share God's good news, whether through story or action with others, when we've failed to do so, and how we might do better go forward.  Telling others about how God has made a difference in our lives might seem almost outre in today's world, in which we so often hear we shouldn't push our beliefs on others.  But given that others will tell our story for us -- and oft-times in the least flattering way possible -- it behooves Christians to find new ways of sharing the Gospel with its message of reconciliation, redemption, and

It was supposed to be a blessing.  I'd gone into the sanctuary of Trinity Church in Copley Square earlier today for some quiet prayer.  Much to my delight, the organist was practising for tomorrow's service.  As I prayed, he played.  Then he began to play ... dang it!  I knew what he was playing.  Sort of.  But I couldn't get the title (nothing in the hymnal index rang a bell), nor could I remember the hymn tune's name.  It was driving me to distraction and my consternation was about to derail my time of prayer.  Fortunately, that's when the tourists arrived with their cameras. No longer could I obsess about a hymn tune.  Now I had the distraction of chatty visitors to invade my quiet prayer.  And, for good measure, I could hear a siren.   This, of course, was everything came into focus.  I found myself experiencing all of these sounds as manifestations of God's creation, of its variety, of its hustle and bustle, and of its existence beyond my abil

We have a pope! The announcement of a new bishop of Rome yesterday is importance to all Christians, not just those who are Roman Catholics.  The election of Jorge Mario Borgelio is a reminder of how much the demographics of the faith are changing.  For the first time in 1,200 years a pope calls some place other than Europe home; for the first time ever, that home is in the New World.  And while Pope Francis may be of Italian heritage, he is clearly a man of Latin America.  The church is changing; what we may have long seen as normative is quickly becoming marginal.  White and  European, once the dominant feature of Christians, is being superceded by Non-white and of the Global South. These changes can be scary, even off-putting.  We can be unsettled by the unfamiliar, the different.  Yet these developments should be reassuring, even a cause for celebration.  For they mean that the universal church is vibrant and dynamic, that it is drawing in new people in new places.  So

What do you do before you make a big decision?  Perhaps you collect some data, review your options, think things over, seek some advice.  Maybe you procrastinate.  You may do some of these things, all of these things, or none.  What about pray?  Do you pray before you make your decision?  If so, what do you pray for?  Guidance? Perspective? Confidence?  Assurance?  Something else? It doesn't matter.  God will be there, whether the decision to be made is great or trivial, and we shouldn't hesitate to turn to him before making our choices.  I was reminded of this earlier today when I saw the front page of the New York Times.  There, above the fold, was a picture of cardinals at a mass at St. Peter's Basilica in Rome.  The caption of the photo was "Prayer Before Decision."  Though it didn't surprise me that these princes of the church were turning to God before they entered the conclave to choose a new pope, it was still reassuring. So what about you

Last night I (and many others) received an email from Jonathan Walton, the new minister at Harvard's Memorial Church.  In it, he provided a link to an article in the Christian Century about atonement, a complicated, and even confusing, proposition that is nevertheless central to making sense of what happened on the cross.  The piece is definitely worth your time. Introducing the story, Prof. Walton wrote: Lo and behold, I received this article in my inbox today from Christian Century. Entitled "Why the Cross? God's at-one-ment with humanity," it provides a comprehensive summary of the varying theories of atonement. It also raises and wrestles with many of the questions we engaged on Sunday. Give it a read. I'm confident you will find it enlightening. http://www.christiancentury.org/article/2013-02/why-cross The talk of "wrestling with many of the questions" strikes me as being dead on.  Lent is meant to be a season of honest, open engagement

If you've ever wanted a good example of a jeremiad, the passage below, taken from today's Daily Office, will do nicely.  Here the prophet, relaying the word of God, is in fine, take-no-prisoners form.  The people have sinned and the Lord is angry, ready to deliver judgment. But why?  Why does God even bother?  It's not as if the omnipotent creator of the universe needs us after all.  So why does he get angry?  Why does he want to set us straight? Because he cares.  Because he loves us.  Because God has created us in his image, to live in relationship, to care for his creation, to pursue justice and live lives of righteousness.  God gets upset with us because he believes, he knows, we can do better. During this season of Lent we have the opportunity to see how we've let down God - and ourselves - and to then chart a new course.  It may not be easy, but God believes in us. A Reading from Jer. 16:10-21 16:10 “When you tell these people about all t

Are you ready?  Were you ready?  Ready for what you ask?  Why, Daylight Savings Time, which officially began at 2 AM this morning. Once again, most of the nation has set its clocks forward, gaining an extra hour of darkness in the morning in exchange for more sunlight at day's end.  The origins of DST are to be found in the exigencies of country at war almost a century ago.  Now, it seems to be mostly about commuters, convenience, and habit.  But if we're willing, DST (and the return later this year to EST), can be a means for us to ponder something larger: our desire for control.  By setting clocks forward or back, we can entertain the illusion that we are masters of time itself.  Of course, in truth, we're nothing of the sort.  The earth's rotation around its axis and its orbit around the sun will remain unchanged by anything we've done.  Our lives will be no longer nor no shorter than they were before we began to fiddle with what we say is the time.

We give thanks, O God, for revealing your Son Jesus Christ to us by the light of his resurrection: Grant that as we sing your glory at the close of this day, our joy may abound in the morning as we celebrate the Paschal mystery; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen . The collect for the close of this day makes a presumption: we'll praise God as this day end and resume our celebration with the new day.  That might seem like a lot of praise, indeed it may appear to be without end.  But as we contemplate what this might mean for our lives, let us also remember that God is loving us every moment of every day and every night.  Something to think about this night ... and tomorrow morning. Peace.

What do you think your reaction would be if you met Jesus.  Not in the "I've been touched by his presence" or "I've felt the Holy Spirit" variety of meeting but in the actual in-the-flesh, chance-to-shake-hands kind. Would you be happy?  Freaked out?  Speechless?  Confused? Wary? If we've been going to church for any time, our initial response might well be "happy."  But if we've been paying attention to the Gospels and we're being honest with ourselves during Lent, freaked out, speechless, confused, and wary might be more credible answers to the question.  Jesus, after all, has come to utterly change the world, our world, yours and mine.  He didn't come to help us be more ethically grounded or to spend more time helping old ladies cross the street (as worthy as those things are) but to usher in the Kingdom of God, a reality that doesn't have as its priorities our priorities, but those of the One who created the uni

In light of the weather experienced by people in other parts of the country this year it would be exceedingly churlish of me to suggest that we've suffered an onerous winter.  Still, recent weeks, with sullied snow cover and leaden skies, have been monotonously monochromatic.  Fortunately, there have been welcome intrusions of color into this dull palette: an enticing platter of fresh fruit at coffee hour, a colleague's boisterous blouse.  Something brighter is there if we're willing to see it, to hold onto it. As with color, so to with God's grace.  It's there, even when we're sure it's not, if only we take the time, make the effort to look.  It's true that there will be times when we need to be especially attentive.  But if we're willing to be open to the Holy Spirit, we'll encounter grace and when we do, watch out!  Just as that splash of color can enliven all around it, maybe even transform our perspective, so to will grace.  All

The appointed psalm for today, number 119, is an impressive 176 verses.  At its heart are these verses: 97 O how I love your law! All day long I meditate on it. 98 Your commandments make me wiser than my enemies, for I am always aware of them. 99 I have more insight than all my teachers, for I meditate on your rules. 100 I am more discerning than those older than I, for I observe your precepts. 101 I stay away from the evil path, so that I might keep your instructions. 102 I do not turn aside from your regulations, for you teach me. 103 Your words are sweeter in my mouth than honey! 104 Your precepts give me discernment. Therefore I hate all deceitful actions. The psalmist saw clearly, passionately even, the law not as a set of obligations or requirements but as a life-giving treasure that enabled him to be in relationship with God.  The Christian church has had, and indeed still has, a complicated relationship to the law.  Though the rules of the Old Tes

For many years I've been using Microsoft's Hotmail program.  This morning, I discovered that Hotmail was officially a thing of the past, replaced with Outlook.  While my address remained unchanged, my folders were all in place, and my address book untouched, the user interface is quite different.  And, much to my annoyance, I've already discovered that the changes aren't skin deep; some features have undergone subtle adjustments, too.  All that's really left to me now is to settle upon a reaction: do I switch email programs?  Carry on but grumble about this unsought disruption?  Or should I find a way to acclimate myself and focus my attention on more important things?  I think you know which option I'll choose.  Switching programs will take too much effort.  Grousing might be satisfying for a time but will ultimately bring me no satisfaction.  So, it makes sense to go with acclimatization and moving on so I can spend my limited energy on things th

Noun or verb?  Which came to mind when you saw the title of today's reflection?  Looking out the window, I can see snowflakes gently falling to the sky - a flurry (noun).  I also have lots to get done before day's end and will be rushing to and fro to do it all - another flurry (verb). We often think of Lent as a noun, but in many ways, like flurry, it's also a verb (yes, I know, "to lent" is a new usage of the most inelegant kind, but please bear with me).  Lent, after all, isn't just the name of a liturgical season but, if we take it seriously, is something we also do: we reflect, we pray, we forgo things, we take things up, we repent, we try a new way, we open ourselves to God and his word.  We do lent (or at least we try). To lent.  I hope and pray it's a verb we can all live into.

The headline caught my eye: Cat Sells Its Soul for Friskies.  All sorts of questions immediately came to mind.  Is this market expansion by Satan or is he hard up for business?  What would the deal look like?  Do cats even have souls?  Silly musings for a snowy Sunday morning, of course.  But a more sober thought then came to mind.  What would I sell my soul for?  It's a question always worth confronting, especially during Lent.  Recall how we began Lent, reading the story of Satan's three attempts to seduce Jesus.  The lectionary includes this incident to not only show us Jesus' strength, but to inspire us to contemplate our weaknesses and consider how we might resist the devil's blandishments.  Before we laugh at or take pity on the cat, we would do well to admit that it's far easier than we'd care to admit for us to be bought off, compromised, or suborned.  The temptation that fells us need not be global domination or endless riches.  It can as

This morning I watched some thirty or forty kids, aged four to seven, skate backwards at Campion Rink.  There was nothing elegant, nothing synchronized by what I saw.  Still, there was something awe inspiring about it.  These little boys and girls accepted without question their coaches' instruction to do something that isn't, well, natural.  Think about it.  People.  Very young people.  With blades on their footwear.  Propelling themselves on a glassy surface.  In reverse.  Amazing. This wasn't the kids' first time out on the rink, of course.  They've been developing skills, learning the fundamentals, engaging in drills, week after week.  Over the past month and more they've developed trust in their teachers who've both encouraged and challenged them.  This morning they knew they wouldn't be asked to do something unless someone believed they could do it or at least give it a reasonable try. The Lenten journey is a lot like my son's hoc

The daily office psalm selection to be read at noon today is taken from Psalm 113: Give praise, you servants of the Lord ;     praise the Name of the Lord . Let the Name of the Lord be blessed,     from this time forth for evermore. From the rising of the sun to its going down     let the Name of the Lord be praised. The Lord is high above all nations,     and his glory above the heavens. What would it be like for you to praise the Lord all day long?  How would you do it?  Through prayer, through action, through song or reflection?  How are you actually praising God this day?  And how would you like to?  Consider the question, ponder the possibilities, then praise the Lord in a new way.  With God's grace, you'll find yourself experiencing something new, something unexpected as you continue your Lenten journey.