The Mainline Minister

A light snow fell last night.  Just a dusting, one that melted away with the rising of the sun.  Still, earlier today, when we awoke, trees, cars, the street, bushes, and a beach ball were all lightly covered.  We weren't expecting the flurry, nor did we anticipate the beach ball.  The former was a reminder of the winter we wish to see gone, the latter a harbinger of the summer to come.  We seem to be in a transition moment, a time when we're balanced between what was and what will be.  This is true not just of the weather but also of our faith.  Easter is almost here, but Lent is not yet over.  We are ready for resurrection but the hour has not yet quite arrived.  Until then, we have a colorful beach ball, a playful symbol of God's surprising grace and joy.

It's snowing.  Again.  Yes, it's nothing more than a flurry.  Still.  It's snow.  And it's falling.  Winter, it seems, is still with us, if only for another day. Or two.  Or more.  But sooner or later it will come to an end.  The snow, the cold, the ice.  Just not yet. The same's true with Lent.  It's not over, not yet.  Yes, with Palm Sunday our attention shifts, with Holy Week our spiritual lives and routines take on a new form.  But even so, Lent is still with us.  We're still called to live out our disciplines, to pray, to turn in a new direction, follow a new path. Soon, Lent will come to an end.  But not yet. Thanks be to God.

Yesterday, while in Boston, I poked my head into a Starbucks on Newbury Street to pick up a cup of tea and the paper.  To get inside, I first had to make my way through a crowd of young women in the teens and twenties who were lined up for most of the length of a city block to get into a boutique.  I should note now that the hour was early, snow showers were falling, and it was cold, giving lie to the notion that spring had arrived.  What, I wondered, could be so compelling to draw so many people out on a raw, wet Saturday morning?  Whatever it was, it mattered to those waiting for the doors to open. On this Palm Sunday we will read about and sing of a different crowd, the one that has gathered to welcome Jesus into Jerusalem.  We don't know whether many congregated or just a few to offer their praises and songs, but we do know that by the end of the week they will have melted away, just like whatever fad captured the fancy of those young women yesterday (or will grab

This prayer, "Phos hilaron (O Gracious Light)," is part of the Episcopal service of Evening Prayer.  These words seem not only apt for ending this day for concluding what I think of as "ordinary" Lent, the period from Ash Wednesday through the Saturday before Holy Week begins. O gracious light, pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven, O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed! Now as we come to the setting of the sun, and our eyes behold the vesper light, we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices, O Son of God, O Giver of Life, and to be glorified through all the worlds.

I'm not normally a fan of grey, rainy days.  But yesterday was an exception to the rule.  I was absolutely delighted by the precipitation.  First, it wasn't snow.  Second, given the temperatures, it was going to make progress in melting and washing away the ground cover but without causing any flooding.  Third, it wasn't snow. As we approach Holy Week, I plan to keep these thoughts about the rain close at hand.  For as we journey closer to Good Friday, to the darkness of Golgotha, the imperative to hold onto the good will be that much more pressing.  That, in turn, is a lesson to be carried beyond Easter and into the rest of our lives.

The BBC reported this morning that Richard III was interred in Leicester Cathedral.  Richard, you'll recall, was the last of the Plantagenets, defeated by the forces of Henry Tudor at Bosworth Field.  He has also been cast as one of the great villains of English history, blamed for the murder of his young nephews, the famous Princes in the Tower.  His remains were lost to the ages until they were discovered during the excavation of a car park in 2012.  Now he's been buried with pomp and ceremony.  All well and fine.  But what interested me most in this story was the observation of his successor on the throne, Queen Elizabeth II.  She said that Richard was "sustained by his Christian faith in life and death."  While I'm in no position to comment on the accuracy of this statement, I was struck by what it tells me of the current monarch's deep and abiding faith. It's been widely known for decades that Elizabeth is a deeply committed practitioner

Parents of young children seeing the title of this morning's reflection will most likely flinch as the hit song from Disney's Frozen comes to mind.  The tune became so ubiquitous that its author told a reporter that she'd begun apologizing for having written it!  Still, the title tells us something we need to hear in Lent.  We do need to "let it go."  Whether "it" is our anxiety, our denial, our anger, our frustration, our fear, our anything-that-keeps-us-from-God.  In short, our sin.  Of course, we can't let something go until we admit we have it.  We must first admit we sin, not always an easy thing to do.  Then we can work on letting it go, calling on God for his help.

In the realm of spy fiction and movies, James Bond was famously issued a license to kill  by Her Majesty's Government.  In the real world, no such power exists (or at least none that anybody has ever admitted to).  This is a good thing, practically and philosophically.  Still, the concept offers an opportunity to contemplate the idea of deputizing power.  Traditionally, it has been the state, whether embodied in the person of an absolute monarch or an elected government, that has been seen as legitimately exercising such authority.  Delegating this ability, something that happens when soldiers take to the battlefield or police use lethal force, is an exercise in trust.  It is one that carries risks.  The hope is that it will be used judiciously, discretely, and wisely.  This does not always happen. There are other areas in life where power is delegated.  Consider prayer.  God has given each of us and all of us a direct line of communication.  As Creator of the Univers

This morning the shines brilliantly.  It's also bitingly cold.  If you had to choose which of these features defines today's weather, which would it be?  Sunny or frigid?  Both are factually correct, so there is no "right" choice.  Instead, it's a matter of perspective.  Focus on the sunshine and the odds are you're looking towards warmth and the happy thoughts.  Focus on the single digit temps and you're oriented towards the need to bundle up and a yearning for something different.  Of course, one can reject a binary choice and lift up both.  Nuance might be the only way to accurately depict today's weather.  So too with life, something we need to remember in Lent.  We can go to church on Sunday and lose our temper.  When this happens we need not pretend that we are either wondrous saints or irredeemable sinners.  We can instead recognize that we are fallible creatures, called by God to try, try again.  We can do so alert to the fact the

The lectionary offers two choices from the psalter today: Psalm 51, which we'll read in church today, and Psalm 119.  The latter offers us a view of life in the law that is affirming and inspiring.  Nothing dead, routine, or ritualistic here.  Instead, God's law is something that engages the heart, shapes lives, and is a cause for celebration.  As you read these verses, I invited you to ask yourself how you might delight in God's decrees and precepts, how you might rejoice by following his Way, how you might love the law. Psalm 119:9-16 How can young people keep their way pure? By guarding it according to your word. With my whole heart I seek you; do not let me stray from your commandments. I treasure your word in my heart, so that I may not sin against you. Blessed are you, O LORD; teach me your statutes. With my lips I declare all the ordinances of your mouth. I delight in the way of your decrees as much as in all riches. I will meditate on your precepts, a

I attended a presentation on the parent-teacher relationship at Chip's school on Saturday morning.  During a fascinating talk, the presenter brought up the subject of birth order.  Apparently, research shows that where a person falls in the family birth order has a serious impact on how he or she will see, behave, perceive.  The first born will be interested in tradition and following rules.  The second born will often be a bit of a rebel who is forward oriented.  Where we come from can have a serious effect on who we are and who we become.  But this need not be deterministic.  Awareness of this dynamic can allow us to shape and adjust our responses to situations.  Another kind of awareness that is empowering, especially during this Lenten season, is that we are each beloved of God.  God treasures each and every one of us, and invites us to repair and restore our relationships with him and with our brothers and sisters (real and figurative!) - regardless of whether we

We finally removed the Christmas tree from the sanctuary yesterday.  Not that anybody would have noticed since we've been worshiping in the parish hall since the start of the year.  With frigid temperatures, the tree held its needles, its branches remained firm.  It looked great.  We could have hung Easter eggs on its boughs.  Alas, though, there is a time for everything and our Tannenbaum's has come and gone. Happily, the promise of Christmas - the inbreaking of God's love into our world - remains with us, supporting us, encouraging us, challenging us during this Lenten season.  It is because God loves us without condition that we are able to confront the injuries we have caused to our relationships with him and his people. So, this day, though we are without a tree, we are blessed with God's presence, God's grace, God's love.

Yesterday we learned of a massacre at a Tunisian art museum and a shooting rampage here in the States in Mesa, Arizona.  It seems as if the violence, whether motivated by religion, ideology, illness, or just plain evil, will never end.  We can despair.  We can give up.  We can say it's inevitable.  That it's the cost of freedom or human nature or God's will.  Or we can repent and follow a new path. We can ask how we are complicit in violence. We can ask what we are doing to combat violence. We can ask what we are willing to sacrifice to be peacemakers - the ones whom Jesus said would be blessed. Who would Jesus shoot?  I think we all know the answer: nobody.  What does that tell us?  Perhaps that we should ask ourselves some questions and listen for the Holy Spirit, praying for God's guidance and peace.

This morning I noticed the snow pack abutting our driveway had receded enough to give me a peak at the verge of our lawn.  The grass I could see was brown, muddy, and not in any danger of appearing in any lawn care promotionals.  But none of that mattered.  It was a welcome sign that spring is coming.  So, too, is Easter.  The promise of the resurrection is real and will be kept. We're turning a corner in Lent.  We're much closer to Palm Sunday than Ash Wednesday.  Indeed, this Sunday will be the last regular one in Lent.  After that, we'll turn our attention to Holy Week and all that involves.  Now, while we shouldn't get ahead of ourselves, and there's still much Lenten work for us to do, we can look forward with anticipation with what's coming.  We may only have caught a glimpse, but we know that what we will encounter will be glorious.

Despite the local pub's offering first pints at 9 am today, St. Patrick's Day is not best marked by downing copious amounts of suds.  Nor is dressing up like a leprechaun, wearing green, or celebrating all things  faux-Irish.  Instead, if we truly want to honor this 5th century Christian, we would seek to share God's love with those who once harmed us, we would make sharing the Word our life's work, we would listen and respond to God's call, however demanding and challenging that might be.  That's right: no drunken revelry.  Just inspired, enthusiastic service to the Lord. Happy St. Patrick's Day!

We pray for the just and proper use of your creation; For the victims of hunger, fear, injustice, and oppression. For all who are in danger, sorrow, or any kind of trouble; For those who minister to the sick, the friendless, and the needy. Hear us, Lord; For your mercy is great. Amen. This prayer is from the noonday Daily Office for today.  Join me in offering this intercession to God.  Then, if possible, take some time later in the day to reflect on these words.  Then, consider offering it again.

... and all the other days, too.  Not because you or I are dictators about to be assassinated by conspiratorial Senators, but because we should never be complacent about our faith lives.  Lent is a time for us to remember this fact.  We can all to easily be distracted from Jesus's way, from doing the hard work of making sure that we are striving to make right our relationships with God and God's people.  So be on guard.  Pay attention.  Stay alert!  God's healing, reconciling, redeeming Spirit is coming to us.  Let's not miss it.  Beware!

Yes, today is Pi Day.  This celebration of everyone's favorite oddball, magical, irrational yet highly useful number - 3.14 ... - is a special occasion this year.  For it's not only March 14 - 3.14 - but March 14, 2015 - 3/14/15 (3.1415 ...).  And twice during the day, a 9:26.53, it gets even better as one can observe on digital devices 3.141592653 ... Though many of us have a conflicted relationship with mathematics (quadratic equations, anyone?), numbers are a different matter.  They can delight, intrigue, and amaze.  Zero.  Infinity.  Pi.  Many among the faithful have often seen the hand of God at work in numbers.  They can be used, some think, to predict when Jesus will return.  Or when the Earth was created.  Personally, I don't think Scripture should be interpreted this way.  But I do think the wonders of numbers and math reflect the glory of Creation.  So on this Pi Day, take a moment to be impressed and amazed by the sheer awesomeness of this universe

I went to the dump this morning with large shipping cartons filled with packing styrofoam, a bit worried I'd be told to bring the stuff back broken down and bagged.  When I pulled up to the booth where the staff check what one has to dispose, I told the attendant what I had.  He asked me if I planned to throw the boxes and styrofoam directly into the dumpster.  I replied that I actually thought I'd shake out the styrofoam and put the boxes into recycling.  His face lit up.  "A lot of people wouldn't bother to do that," he said gratefully.  "Thanks."  In that exchange, the anxiety we each experienced disappeared.  It was a small thing that cause us each apprehension, but it was real.  In a moment, it was gone.  We often seem to look for things to worry about.  When we do this, when we create new anxieties for ourselves, we have less time for other things - like God.  As we continue to move through Lent, we can still take up disciplines and g

... which, it seems, is what the Chinese Communist Party has told the Dalai Lama after he suggested he might not.  The irony is inescapable - this is a putatively atheist outfit.  Now it's telling a religious leader how his faith tradition operates.  Of course, the CCP has been doing this for a while, and not just with the Dalai Lama.  They're running their own Catholic hierarchy, much to the consternation of the Vatican. Now, there are fundamental differences between Tibetan Buddhism and Christianity, including beliefs about reincarnation.  However, one of the things the two traditions do share in common, along with other religions today and throughout history, is the spectacle of governments telling the faithful to follow the lead of their political overlords, even if it means ignoring, even contravening one's holy texts and fundamental beliefs.  Even when these figures reject the idea of God, they find they like playing God.  They like to act as if they ar

Well, that got your attention, didn't it? Now, I don't intend to issue any fatwas against members of other faith traditions or divergent streams of the Christian tradition.  Rather, I'd like to call attention to the tendency of the faithful - even mild-mannered mainliners - to climb up on ecclesiastical soapboxes to hurl imprecations at those whose understanding of the will of God differs.  The truth is that we just don't do a great job of disagreeing with others.  One possible explanation is that discussions become so very heated because matters of ultimate truth are being debated.  Perhaps.  But I think that something else can be at work: identity.  How we comprehend, discuss, share (or even reject) God is at the heart of who we are as people.  When those conceptions are are challenged, we can feel that we are being attacked, our very sense of self questioned.  At such moments, we might do well to remember Jesus' admonition that to save one self, one

The story hasn't generated much attention here in the States but the world of competitive dog shows in the UK has been rocked by an awful scandal.  Up to six dogs participating in Crufts, the British equivalent of the Westminster Kennel Club Show here in the US (recall the movie"Best in Show") have been killed by poisoning.  The authorities are working under the assumption that the guilty party is the owner of one of the other competitors.  This is appalling and sickening.  And, sadly, reflective of just how fallen humans can be.  Killing a helpless creature so you can walk off with a ribbon?  Really?  Something is very, very wrong here.  In the church, we name this "something" sin.  When we sin (and yes, that's we, not other people), ties are frayed, even broken.  Relationships are thrown off kilter. And, harm is done, sometimes, irreparably. During Lent, we have the opportunity to reflect on how we sin, and to pray to God to help us turn in a

We talk a lot about repentance and the amendment of behavior during Lent.  But what does this mean?  How, to use an inartful phrase, do we make this call operational? One place to find an answer to these questions is Jeremiah 7: The word that came to Jeremiah from the LORD: Stand in the gate of the Lord’s house, and proclaim there this word, and say, Hear the word of the LORD, all you people of Judah, you that enter these gates to worship the LORD. Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend your ways and your doings, and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: “This is the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD, the temple of the LORD.” For if you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place, in t

This weekend marks the 50th anniversary of Bloody Sunday.  The awful events that unfolded at the Edmund Pettis bridge shocked the nation.  Out of this painful incident momentum built and the Voting Rights Act was passed.  As we in the church know, Christians offered vital leadership, beginning with but not limited to The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in the fight for equal rights for all Americans.  But as we take pride in, and are inspired by this, we acknowledge that some Christians sided with the forces of segregation.  During this Lent, we should give thanks for faithful disciples, repent for the sins of the church, and pray for the strength and courage to hear and respond with action to God's call for righteousness, justice, and mercy.

I can see Fenway Park from where I'm staying in Boston.  The ball park beckons.  Home runs, hot dogs, cheering fans, neatly turned double plays.  They're all so close.  Mind you, I can also see snow.  Lots of it.  The first pitch of the season may need to be thrown by someone wearing snowshoes.  Clearly, Mother Nature and the grounds crew have a lot of work to do if they're to be ready for Opening Day.  So too with Easter.  It beckons.  We can imagine the day: it's now less than a month away.  Great hymns, beautiful lilies, and, of course, the story of the Resurrection.  We're ready.  Or so we think we are. As much as we want Easter now, we still have work to do.  Spiritual clean ups still require our attention and effort.  And there's less time than we think!  Just as Opening Day is on the calendar, so too is Easter: April 5.  While it might seem like we have to wait forever and a day, baseball and, far more importantly, Easter will be here sooner

Goodbye, Ma Bell that is.  It seems that Apple, now the world's largest company by capitalization, is to displace AT&T from the Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Talk about how the might have fallen!  AT&T was once the most powerful, prestigious business in the nation.  Many of us remember when it provided the only option for long distance service.  It WAS the phone company.  And it could do anything.  Now it can't even keep its seat at the stock market's big kids table.  It all goes to prove that nothing of this world is forever, a message that is repeatedly shared in Scripture. Lent is a good time to reflect on the transience of things.  What we think is enduring is not.  Kingdoms, nations, companies will all pass from the scene.  So, too, can our sin, if we'll let it.  That grudge?  Resentment?  Pique? Hurt? Bad or dangerous habit?  They can all go the way of the dodo.  All we need to do is turn to the One who is forever, the eternal God who comes

This psalm is about a deep confidence in one's relationship with God.  I invite you to join me in reading the psalm this morning and to reflect on your relationship with God as I will mine, remembering that it is in this season we are specially called to set things right with the One who has created us.   I encourage you to join me in repeating this tonight. Psalm 71 1 In thee, O LORD, have I taken refuge; * let me never be ashamed. 2 In thy righteousness, deliver me and set me free; * incline thy ear to me and save me. 3 Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe; * thee are my crag and my stronghold. 4 Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked, * from of the clutches of the evildoer and the oppressor. 5 For thee are my hope, O LORD God, * my confidence since I was theeng. 6 I have been sustained by thee ever since I was born; from my mother's womb thee have been my strength; * my praise shall be always of the

Occasionally, I'll write these reflections at the end of the day.  Sometimes it's by choice, a desire to engage in a form of compline, the order of prayer for the evening.  Others times, like today, it's simply because the day's been full and I haven't had a chance to sit down, think, and write.  Either way, it is dark. What does the dark make you think of? Sitting around a campfire? Or fears and anxieties lurking in corners?  Star dappled skies?  Or things that go bump in the night?  Lent is a good time for us to look at the darkness, both within us and beyond, to think about it, to pray on it, to consider how it fits into God's creation and what role it may play in our lives. It's dark now.  It's hard to see.  But look carefully - there's so much out there!

What, again? More snow?  While listening to the morning news on the radio I learned that we are in for some precipitation with potential accumulations of two to five inches here in New Hampshire.  My only thought was when will this winter end?  We've had enough! Thinking this, it occurred to me that our reaction this year's endless snow might just mirror God's to our sins.  "What, again?" God might wonder.  "When will they stop?"  The answer, sadly, is most likely never.  Still, God never gives up on us, he gives us chance after chance to set things right.  Lent is an especially good time to look to our sins, both those things done and those left undone, towards God and God's people.  We can pray, we can reflect, and we can take assurance that there is another way.  That just as the winter will come to an end, so, too, can our alienation and straying from God.

I was just listening to Bach's Cantata "Singet dem Herrn, ein neues Lied!" (Sing a new song unto the Lord - BWV 190).  It's filled with the joyous singing of the word "Hallelujah."  In the Catholic and Episcopal traditions, this bit of vocabulary is given a liturgical rest during Lent as a way of marking the somber nature of the season.  We generally avoid Hallelujah in our church, too, at this time for the same reason.  This doesn't meant that all signs of joy our mirth ought to be exiled from our lives at this moment.  But Lent is serious business and it deserves our attention.  If we're to truly experience the joy of Easter, we will need to be fully present during Holy Week.  And for that we need to prepare ourselves.  So let us lay off the Hallelujahs for now.  With the Resurrection we'll have time to say and sing them aplenty.

March, so we're told, comes in like a lion.  As initial forecasts suggest that this week's weather may well be beastly, this seems apt.  It's also appropriate today as we're reading from Mark, the evangelist whose symbol is the lion.  Further, in today's lection, Jesus speaks with the ferocity of a lion, setting both Peter and us straight about what it means to be one of his followers.  It's not easy, we're told.  But, the rewards are tremendous and magnificent.  I pray that this day we all experience the love of God, the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the communion of the Holy Spirit with the force and power of a lion!