The Mainline Minister

     In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.      In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am

Well, this is it.  The proverbial end of the line.  Christmas Eve is here!  So we're done, right?  All that anticipating, expecting, reflecting is finished and now we're going to sit back and get ready for tomorrow's exchange of presents or dinner or whatever it is we normally do. Nope. This isn't the end of the line but is the beginning of a story, one we will reenact liturgically now through Easter.  Jesus is just about here.  Get ready!  The end is just the beginning.

Christmas is almost here.  Almost.  We're not there yet.  This is a liminal moment, a time when we can discern two realities, the one we inhabit and the one that God is going to reveal to us.  Tomorrow night we'll recount in story and song the birth of Jesus.  Today, we can imagine what it was like for Mary and Joseph to approach Bethlehem, to envision the end of their journey, to anticipate what the future had in store for them - and the baby in his mother's womb.  Almost.  But not yet.

Well, this is it.  The fourth Sunday of Advent, when we will light all four of the Advent candles.  With these lights, we will anticipate the Light of the World, Jesus, who comes in grace and glory and love.  His arrival will be celebrated in just a couple of days.  What to do?  Well, we can still prepare, still pray, still reflect -- and, perhaps, start to get giddy ...

My next door neighbor just asked me if I'm ready for Christmas.  I know her and like her enough that I honestly answered, "No!"  It's not so much that I'm a minister with various professional duties to discharge, but more like that old Monty Python skit in which the audience is told that no-one is ready for the Spanish Inquisition.  Not that I'm equating the nativity with ecclesiastical violence in any, way, shape or form.  It's more like the scale of the event is so great that despite knowing what's coming, if I'm honest, I'm not ready and in some way, will never be.  That doesn't meant that I'll give up getting ready.  The effort counts, especially during a season of preparation.  So, there are still a few days to Advent.  If you haven't taken the time to reflect, to anticipate, you still can, I still can.

Yesterday, I came home from work to find a piece of mail from what I refer to as the liturgical-industrial complex.  They were helpfully peddling resources for Lent.  Yes, Lent.  That Lent. The period of preparation leading up the Feast of the Resurrection.  In other words, Jesus has not yet born and we're already making plans for his memorial service.  I know there's a need for preparation and there are those who love nothing more than planning in advance.  That's not necessarily a bad thing.  But I want to be present in this Advent, in this time.  I want to anticipate the birth of the Messiah, God's entrance into this world.  And while it's already happened long ago, it's an event worth savoring and celebrating, reflecting upon and expecting.  The time for Lent will come.  But now, it's still Advent.  Be present in this moment God has made.

As you may know, there's been a lot of news lately.  All I'm going to say in regard to that is, "this too shall pass." What's happened, even if it was a big deal, will in the grand scheme of things fade into the background.  None of it compares to the birth of Jesus, an event we will celebrate next week.  Think about what the arrival of the Christ child meant and means to the world.  Think of all that has changed, is changing, and will change.  While most of us will not change the course of history, we can look to emulate Jesus by being faithful to the Lord and serving his people.  Doing this requires that we trust God, hold true to the Gospel, and exercise a bit of perspective.

In one week, it will be Christmas.  It one week, the hope of the world will be born anew.  In one week, carols will be sung celebrating Jesus' birth.  Just one week to get ready.  How come your preparations?  Are you prepared to make room for the Holy Infant in your heart?  You still have time to reflect on what's needed to adjust to this reality. Fortunately, we still have some more Advent before us, more time to reflect, to anticipate, to make ready.  It's one week until Christmas - let's get ready!

It's snowing! Again! Sure, we've seen snow already this season.  And it provided ground cover.  And then it warmed up and melted, setting us back to a blank slate.  Now, the white stuff is falling from the sky and the forecast is for some cold weather to linger.  We've been here before, no?  Still, there's some anticipation, some excitement that comes with snowfall early in the winter (or late fall for the seasonally-obsessed) - even though we know exactly what is going to happen. This sounds a bit like Advent, doesn't it?  We repeat this cycle of preparation, of waiting, of anticipation every year and if we let ourselves live into the moment, the familiar will seem fresh, the old hat will seem like a new thing. I hope your having a good Advent.  If you'd like more from this season, fear not - you still have a week until Christmas Eve.  It's coming, but not yet, not before some snow falls.

It's another Monday and that means another week of work or school for most of us.  All of the same things: the meetings, the errands, the assignments.  But leavening the familiar will be a sense of anticipation.  This is the last full week of Advent.  We know the big day is just around the corner, perhaps tantalizingly distant, perhaps agonizingly near, but definitely within sight.  Let's use this last week of Advent wisely to pray, reflect, and get ready for Our God, Emmanuel. 

Today is Gaudete Sunday.   You may know it as the morning on which we light the pink candle in church.   This is the day on which we are called to be joyful.   Joyful? Why?   We don’t focus so much on the fact that Advent is a penitential season.   Just like Lent, Advent is a time to repent, to return to God.   The early church leaders decided that a respite was needed, and so Gaudette came into being.   We can think of this as a sneak preview of what will happen on the 24 th , when we celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus.   Angels will sing from the heavens, humans and creatures of every kind will rejoice on earth – the universe will celebrate the arrival of the new-born king.   The world will receive – has received – the greatest of gifts.   Joyful? You bet. Get ready!

I've been poking through "The Ultimate Christmas Cracker" by the late John Julius Norwich.  Each year, he would collect quotes and other tidbits, collect them, and then share them with his kith and kin during the Yuletide.  A few compendia of crackers appeared over the years and this latest volume is something of a greatest hits collection spanning the years 1970 to 2019.  One of the gems he included was a quote from A Burnt-Out Case by Graham Greene: 'The priests would tell you to pray that God's will be done.' 'I'd want to know what his will was before I prayed anything like that' she said. There's something very twentieth century about these words, particularly the sardonic, knowing, presumptuous nature that claims a human right to know the plans of the Almighty.  Life doesn't work that way.  Still, the Christian tradition teaches that God has already disclosed his desires for you, me, and all creation and during t

Today is Friday the 13th.  Are you scared?  Worried?  At least a bit superstitious? I don't know if people actually pay much attention to the day but if they do, they're worrying about the wrong things.  Black cats and the such are just part of life, neither here nor there.  Questions about salvation and God's justice, though, are a wholly different matter.  They shouldn't be matters for a special day like Friday the 13th or even a season like Advent, but a concern for the Christian every day.  This season of Advent does give us an excuse to reflect on these things. So don't worry about walking under a ladder today.  Think about the God who is coming - who came - to us in the person of an infant.  Think about what God is doing in Jesus and give thanks.

Today is the mid-point of Advent.  We're halfway to Christmas.  Theologically, this day is of no extra significance, but psychologically, it's big.  This is the moment when feelings of panic, of being hurried, of not getting the most our of Advent might begin to set in.  My piece of advice: take a deep breath. When the world seems to be going to pot, when everything seems messed up beyond belief, we are called to remember that it is God who reigns, it is God who chose to come to us in Jesus, it is God who has endowed us with the Holy Spirit.  Reflect on and give thanks for the goodness of the Lord - and remember, there's no schedule for saying thanks and praise to God and God's people, through whom he works.

It's bright and sunny as I write this.  Just a little while ago, the sky was leaden and the clouds seemed to have been here forever.  Now, all of that is forgotten.  But a look out my other window (my office is in a corner, so I have two different exposures) reveals that all is not clear.  You can imagine what's coming next: what do I focus on, sunshine or cloud cover?  Optimism or pessimism?  I'll let you decide.  That said, I will note the appropriateness of this kind of reflection during Advent.  This is a time to contemplate, to consider, to appreciate what we have and to thank God for our blessings.

Last night when I returned to church for a meeting, I found a surprise.  I'd entered via the back door, stepping inside into the dark, only to hear a hissing sound, as if air was escaping from a balloon.  When I turned on the light, I saw a little bat.  To be honest, I was caught of guard.  Yes, he was diminutive and furry, but he had teeth and looked very much like a startled creature of the night. Others arrived and we were able to put him outside.  I didn't know what would happen with him overnight.  Would he freeze? Be eaten by another animal?  My conscience was salved when I came i this morning and saw he had tucked himself under an eave.  At last check, he was still snoozing away. My bat moment reminded me of the Gospel's story about the thief who comes in the night, which is really about Jesus.  He won't just appear at an unexpected moment, but will shock us when he does, throwing us off balance.  Advent is a time to prepare for Jesus' arr

Why is it so hard to get going on some Monday mornings? I was up at 5:30, dropped the boy off at school by 7:10, on the elliptical machine at the gym by 7:30, and then ... not much.  Yes, the coffee I had was great and the news was worth reading and I thought about what I wanted to accomplish this week.  Still it is now after 11:00 and I am only now writing my reflection. All to often, time seems to fly by or slip away.  During Advent, we need to be extra mindful of this.  There are only so many days to this season and then it is over.  We need to fully engage with the message of Advent if we are to be ready for Christmas. So let's get crackin'.  Times awastin'.  Advent is here.  But not for as long as we may think ...

The thermometer on my car dashboard reflected an unwanted piece of news early this morning: it was one below zero.  Brrrrr.  Now, I live in New Hampshire, so this wasn't totally unexpected, especially as its December.  Still, it was sobering.  One below is cold, really cold.  But helping me to deal with this fact was that the reading was at the start of the day and warmer weather would appear later in the day.  I'm counting on it, even though I can't know it will happen. Advent is sort of like this.  We're cold and in the dark.  But we know something grand, something that will warm our hearts and brighten our world, what St John called the light shining in the darkness, whom we know as Jesus, is on his way.  You know it. I know it. Let's take heart and encouragement from this good news!

Yesterday we remembered St Nicholas, today it's Pearl Harbor Day.  I suspect readers of these reflections are fully aware of the import of this day and of the shock that Americans of that era felt.  The Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor was swift, bold, and devastating.  Reminders of the world that event ushered in are still with us in ways large and small.  But the miraculous thing to me is that after a bloody, prolonged war, two enemies found a way to reconcile themselves.  Not out of some misguided adherence to "peace" but out of a recognition that full out hatred just wasn't worth the effort.  My Dad was a great example.  He enlisted on Dec. 8, 1941 and left the army in 1946 as a captain.  He served through the entire war.  Yet a few years later, he was doing business in Japan.  Rather then let old animosities rooted in the past linger, he decided to focus on the opportunities that might be available in the future. As we move deeper into Advent I

That's right - it's today!  The day we remember St Nicholas of Myra, who gave toys to tots and hurt to heretics.  This may not comport with what you remember from Clement Moore's poem and its depiction of a jolly old elf.  But its true. So have your jollies remembering this figure from olden times.  Then set him aside and focus on the real reason for the season: Jesus.

Wifi down.  Slow internet speeds.  Amazon delivery delayed.  These are all first world problems, inconveniences, but not life-altering challenges like no food or shelter.  We focus on the former, letting ourselves get angry, but the latter are more issues or causes for most of us, things about which we sigh then move on to the next thing that catches our attention.  Maybe we need some perspective about what's important and what's not, what should really bother us and what we need to shrug off and let go. Advent is the time to make these adjustments.  A time of anticipation, waiting, and yes, preparation, of getting ready.  If we really want to welcome Jesus into our lives, we should reflect on what he cares about.  First world problems?  Not an issue.  Real world problems?  They're a different matter, one that Jesus calls us follow his lead and to resolve, for his sake and the sake of those he loves.

Perhaps you've been like me and rolled your eye at the manner in which Halloween, Thanksgiving, and, of course, Christmas are "celebrated" at ever earlier dates in our commercially driven culture.  This year, added to the list of rushed events, is New Year's.  That's right.  Before we're done with 2019, let's get into 2020.  This is so antithetical to Advent. In stead of jumping the gun, we sit.  In stead  of rushing forward, we wait.  In stead of looking to the next big day, we given thanks to God for this one.  New Year's will come.  Trust me.  For now, let's focus on THIS season.  Let us be in Advent.

Did you ever feel there wasn't enough time to get things done?  That any extra day in the week or week in the month would be helpful?  That's where I am. I know it would be a futile development.  Make-work, Time-wasting activities would just add up to fill the additional hours. Advent is a time to reflect on this.  There's only so much time and we need to reflect on how we use it: will we actually focus on preparing for Jesus' arrival or fritter away the moments looking at cat memes on line?  Choices may not always be so stark, but they are real.  We only have so much time so why not use it wisely?  This is a lesson for all parts of life but I think it's especially apt for this time of year.  Because if we're not thinking about Jesus, we're not thinking about God, we're not thinking about what's important. And that's kind o the purpose of the season, isn't it?

Sigh.  The first snow has come and gone.  Forecasts suggested "snowmageddon" but what transpired wasn't quite that bad.  A school delay, some shoveling, and we're off to the next "weather event." The funny thing about this snowfall was the run up, just as Advent was beginning.  Their was anticipation, excitement, concern - and all of this was almost palpable.  That's what Advent is supposed to be.  As we await the Baby Jesus, the desire for his arrival to come should be something concrete, something memorable. I hope your clean-up from this snow was manageable, even easy, and that your Advent is grace-filled and fulfilling!

Everything, well almost everything, sounds better in Latin.  Okay, maybe not better. How about more serious.  Time flies? Tempus Fugit? You choose.  The bottom line is that Advent, like the year behind us will fly by and be gone before we know it.  We can resist this by paying attention.  By taking time to pray and to think and to be present in the moment that God has made.  It would be a shame for us to just let these holy days slip by, to see them as something to be endure before we get to the main event.  This is part of the main event.  So make the most of it. Happy Advent!

Today is the Feast of the Resurrection.  Today we celebrate the victory of hope over despair, light over darkness, and life over death.  Rejoice!  And, like Mary Magadelene, share the good news.  Jesus Christ is Risen Today! John 20.1-18 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went towards the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on J

For the first time this Lent, I dreamed off coffee last night.  I have a clear memory of a cup of hot, black java in a classic white diner mug.  As many of you know, I give up coffee during this season and looking forward to my first cup tomorrow.  I've had plenty of chances to fall off this Lenten wagon, but have resisted all of them.  But last night was the only instance in this Lent that coffee made an appearance in my dreams.  Curse you REM activity! I wonder.  Was this what it was like for Judas?  A series of small temptations, followed by one irresistible wave in the form of men bearing thirty pieces of silver?  I prefer to think Judas was slowly seduced to evil rather than a cartoon-like figure of total evil.  The former seems more realistic to me -- and is a more vivid cautionary character.  Be alert, be careful, be alert right until the end.  Which is the beginning. With some prayer, some thoughtfulness, and the aid of the Holy Spirit, I think I can

"Toohu vi Vohu" is the Hebrew description in Genesis 1 for the formless waste that existed before Creation.  Scholars have been frustrated by the term; there is no exact translation for the phrase.  But they and we know what it means, know that God brought order and life and beauty in its stead.  On this Good Friday, it seems as that nameless void has returned, when goodness has been laid low, when life itself has been brought low.  On this day, Jesus was killed by men who knew not what he was about, abandoned by others to consumed by fear.  On this day, hope had no purchase. We are able to remember this day for we know what is coming in its wake: the joy, the miracle, the gift of Easter.  But imagine being one of those who gathered at the foot of the cross to see Jesus being mocked, to see him die - and not know that he would be resurrected.  The finality, the gut-wrenching loss is unimaginable.  But on this day, we should try to envision it, for this is w

Tonight the lectionary Gospel is drawn from John.  It tells the story of the Last Supper and unlike the Synoptics, communion is not the center of the story.  Rather, there is a story about foot washing.  Jesus tended to the feet of his followers and Peter, God bless him, freaked out.  "You can't do this!" he cried.  Jesus told him he must and that if the disciples were truly his followers, they would do likewise.  Peter then proceeds to go overboard in changing his mind and says that foot washing isn't enough; he wants to bathe the entire body.  He misses the point, and so, too often, do we. We don't wear sandals or walk dusty roads.   The whole idea of foot washing is alien and seems a little weird.  Some churches will perform ritual foot washings tonight and some parishioners will be freaked out.  Frankly, there's something personal about our feet and many don't like bearing them to others.  Okay.  But rather than focus on an odd and

Now that a little time has passed since the fire that raged through Notre Dame, questions are being asked: how did this happen? What choices were made that might have been made differently? Who will pay for the repairs? How long will it take?  These are all reasonable questions but they should give us pause. Emmanuel Macron, for example, has said he wants the restoration completed within five years.  Why? Historic preservationists and experts in conservation are suggesting the work will take from 10 to 15 years.  But the Paris Olympics are in 2024 - five years hence.  So the rebuilding of a church is being timed to meet the needs of an overblown sporting event. Why have so many companies and rich people reached into their pockets to restore the cathedral?  We don't know their motivations but some are complaining they might enjoy tax breaks from doing so (the Pinnault family has already declined any such benefits).  These critics want the money to go elsewher

Thus go the glories of this world.  Like millions around the world yesterday, I saw pictures and watched video of Notre Dame burning.  Most poignant to me was seeing the flaming spire of the great cathedral pitch over, then collapse.  The loss is huge, and already commentary about how this is symbolic of something larger, something disturbing are circulating.  But a day later we know that the fire, as awful as it was, was not as bad as it could have been.  The bell towers and shell of the cathedral remain.  So does the great rose window, the organ, the crown of thorns and other relics.  Much has been lost, but much remains. I've had the privilege of visiting Notre Dame.  What stuck with me was how big and how empty the place was.  It was a monument to a previous age, and it's rather sad that it's only when a church is consumed by fire that people notice it.  How many will go to services this week?  How many will reflect on the faith that was discover

Today is Tax Day.  And Patriots Day (at least in New England).  It's also the Monday of Holy Week.  Which comes to mind for you first?  Even though I've already filed my taxes, it's still on my mind.  Having long lived in New England, I like  the idea of celebrating The Battle of Lexington and Concord.  But, as a minister, and I hope as a Christian, my first thought turns to this being the Monday of Holy Week.  After the big hoo-ha surrounding Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, a weird quiet has descended.  Just like people 2,000 years ago, after the excitement of his arrival, we want to know what happens next.  We have a couple of days to think, to pray, to ready ourselves.  For we know what comes next, and thought it's necessary, it isn't pretty: the Passion.

Today is Palm Sunday, and with it the beginning of Holy Week.  I invite you not to see this day as something apart, but instead one piece of a larger whole.  The temptation is often to break things down in to "bite-sized" pieces.  But what good is that if we lose sight of why we are doing what we do?  Holy Week is a great gift to the church, to you and to me.  Let's try to live fully into its many facets - the beauty, the pain, the experience of what it means to be human and to be divine. 

The snow came early  last year, before I had a chance to rake.  The leaves were left for after winter and I'm now dealing with them.  This morning I took a few bags over to the town dump.  All of this through my rhythm off.  The raking, and blowing, and bagging were supposed to happen before Christmas, not on the eve of Palm Sunday.  But what I expected and what transpired were two different things.  It goes without saying that we cannot predict the future, that long-held patterns may be disrupted.  But the ones that hold offer a sense of constancy in a chaotic world. Tomorrow we begin holy week, kicking off with Palm Sunday, then making our way to Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and finally, Easter.  It will all be familiar.  But don't be surprised if something unexpected happens.  Rely on what you know to deal with unfamiliar. I promise  you that if you're paying attention this coming week you'll see things you know very well -- and yo

I was preparing palms for this coming Sunday's service earlier this morning and found myself thinking back to when I burned last year's palms just before Ash Wednesday.  At times Lent has seemed to move with glacial speed, at others it has raced by, and now we are here.  As we are on the cusp of Holy Week, I invite you to take a look back at your Lent.  Think about what you have done and what you have left undone.  Think about your relationship with God, with Jesus, with the Holy Spirit, with the people in your life.  Then look forward, and think to the week ahead, of the journey that awaits you.  What do you expect to see and happen?  You'll need to be alert and not focusing on the past.  So take this opportunity to look at where you've been, then you'll be ready to head off to Jerusalem.

I'm thinking a lot about Holy Week and Easter: the preparation, the details of worship, who will participate in worship, and all of the other minutiae of the services we will have next week.  I wish I were spending time thinking about the rest of Lent.  We're at the time of the Lenten season when our thoughts can run ahead and instead of dwelling in the moment, the present time, we look to the future. But what kind of life is that?  Yes, anticipation has its charms.  But if all we do is look to tomorrow at the expense of living in this day, we will miss out on so much.  God created this day, not just the next.  So let's live fully into this moment.  And since it's Lent, let's repent for the sin of not making the most of this holy moment.

Astronomers just shared a picture of a black hole with the public.  Long hypothesized, but never observed, it appears to be a black circle surrounded by a ring of fire.  I'm sure this is grossly simplifying the reality, but it seems appropriate for something that is synonymous with such a final end.  We've long known how dangerous black holes are, how crossing the event horizon is about as final a thing as one can do, how not even light is able to escape the gravitational forces of this phenomenon.  Yet our universe seems to need black holes, which occupy the center of our galaxy, to playing a role in calculations for the hypothetical possibility of interstellar travel. Today, we know a tad more about black holes, but are still so much in the dark.  So, too, with what Jesus means for our world.  We've read in the Gospel what he has done and is doing for us, have seen him at work through the church and the saints in our lives.  Yet the idea that God is re

Today,  a preview of Sunday's Gospel reading.  We'll turn to Luke and Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. Lots of people, lots of celebrating, no palms.  That's right.  In Luke's Gospel we read of blankets, not palms, being spread on the road before Jesus.  So why are we celebrating Palm Sunday?  Shouldn't we lift up Blanket Sunday?  Or, even more radically, focus on the Passion?  This is something to think about.  What do we think about?  What do we avoid? How does all of this impact our relationship with God and one another?  I offer no answers, just an opportunity to grapple with some questions.

It's raining this morning.  I guess I shouldn't complain as April showers are supposed to bring May flowers, after all.  And it's not snow.  But it's wet.  And cold.  And I'd prefer sunshine.  But rather than complain, I will choose to be positive, which is I will adopt a discipline of attitude. Even this late in Lent, we can still dive into the season.  There's still time to repent of our sins, to reflect on our mortality, to choose to walk the path of Jesus.  Consider what might come of your decision today.  Just as this day's raindrops will help to nurture the new life that will emerge around us shortly, the steps we take this day will bring us closer to our ultimate destination, which we pray will be to the God who raised Jesus from the dead and gave us new life on Easter.

In just one week, we'll celebrate Palm Sunday.  Are we ready?  Ready for Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which will soon turn into his trial, betrayal, and execution?  We need these last days or what I think of as "regular" rent to get ready.  For, I suspect, none of is truly ready, no matter how many times we've heard the story.  So take the next few days to pray, to repent to get ready.

Today's gotten away from me.  Oh, I got a lot done.  But now it's after 5:00 and before we know it, it will be tomorrow.  But the urge to just give up now is wrong.  We always have time in any given day to do what we need to do.  Like pray.  Like give thanks .  Like show gratitude.  Like be with the ones we love or mourn those we have lost. The myth of the modern age is that we're "too busy."  Really?  I think not.  We kid ourselves.  We waste time.  Focus on who and what it truly important.  If you don't, you can add that to the list of things for which you should repent this Lent.

Today, the signs of spring are all over.  Of course, the calendar says spring arrived back in March, but truth be told, it hasn't felt that way.  This morning, though, I hear birds singing, the sun is shining brightly, and I can just feel it.  Of course, it's still 24 degrees outside. With some snow (albeit not much) on the ground.  So maybe I should just sulk a feel like winter will never end.  But if I do that, I deny reality. Being in Lent, it's easy to get used to our funk.  We're repenting, focusing on our mortality, and it's as if nothing matters.  But we remember why we do this: to ready ourselves for Easter, the resurrection, God's Reality.  So to heck with the thermometer.  I can see what's coming and it makes me grateful.

It's just two weeks until Maundy Thursday.  Imagine what it was like to be with Jesus in these final days of his ministry.  He knew what awaited him in Jerusalem, but what about the disciples?  They were anticipating marching bands and celebrations for the conquering hero, with whom they were traveling.  In some ways, they were like the people on the Titanic who were clueless about the iceberg they were about to hit.  Invincible, blithely ignorant - and doomed.  The officers of the great ship saw no reason to worry when they were a few miles from the berg; all was under control. Until it wasn't.  I suspect the disciples had this experience.  They refused to listen to Jesus, to see the signs, and when things began to fall apart, they were caught unprepared. We know what will happen in two weeks, so let's get ready.  There's still time to pray and repent, to ready ourselves for Maundy Thursday.

The Five Colleges book sale is coming up and, as I've done in past years, I'm divesting myself of some of my volumes.  I know I need to do this -- I have too many.  That knowledge won't stop me from buying more, but at least it shows some level of self-awareness.  Giving books to the Five Colleges sale is a way to help the schools and I hope bring somebody in the Upper Valley some happiness. Yet despite knowing all the reasons I should do this, I still feel like I'm putting friends on an ice floe and sending them to sea to meet their fate.  Pretty dramatic, huh?  Okay, melodramatic.  But we get attached, to attached, to our stuff and ultimately that can be a sin.  During Lent, we should repent for our greediness, for our hoarding, for our failure to share as much as we might with others. So Lent seems like an especially good time for me to try to wade through my library. So, goodbye books. I hope you bring joy to someone else in the days ahead.

Even during Lent, serendipity can surprise and gratify us.  This morning I received an email from a bookstore in Oxford, Mississippi (I'd ordered a book from the shop a few years ago and was added to their mailing list).  The lead story in their newsletter was about the late poet Mary Oliver, who was clearly beloved and admired by readers despite being looked at as less than serious by the poetry establishment because she wrote about things like nature and God.  The piece was admiring and ended with this poem by Oliver: Praying It doesn't have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don't try to make them elaborate, this isn't a contest but the doorway into thanks , and a silence in which another voice may speak. If you're having trouble praying during this Lent, I encourage you to read and ponder Mary Oliver's words, which should liberate y

Sometimes, the claims of our faith can seem like a joke.  A loving God?  Ha.  Look at the world around us - war, hunger, natural disasters, the list goes on.  But when I consider the alternative - that there really is no God, that Jesus never came, that the Holy Spirit is just what arch atheist Richard Dawkins would call an "imaginary friend" - I shudder.  A meaningless, purposeless cosmos makes no sense to me.  And I can see evidence of God's work in the world all around me, in nature, in people, in everything.  Frankly, it's not believers who are being fools.  Those unfortunate enough to not have faith are the ones on whom the joke is being played.  We shouldn't boast though.  It's Lent, which reminds us of the need for repentance.  Instead of being full of ourselves, confirmed in the rightness of our beliefs, we would do well to pray for others: believers and non-believers, all of whom are God's children.

What's the point of repentance?  Why say, "I'm sorry?"  Who cares?  These are all questions most of us have asked ourselves at one time or another.  The answers that came, if they came at all, may not have been satisfying.  I would simply suggest reading today's Gospel lesson, Luke 15, the story of the Prodigal Son.  There we see an image of forgiveness that is so capacious, so filled with love, that it is breathtaking.  And it's what's on offer for you and me from our Lord.  God welcomes our repentance not because he's some stern judge sitting on his bench waiting to mete out punishment but because he is a loving father who wants us to get things right and live our lives they way they were meant to be lived: in community, with family and friends, sharing God's grace, and peace, and love, which was made known to us in Jesus.

Indolence. That's a nice word, isn't it?  Sounds a bit sinnish, right?  Yep, here we are again talking sin.  It's Lent. It's what we do.  Sounds a bit matter of fact. And that's a problem.  Sin isn't something blase, something to be brushed off.  Sin is real, sin is destructive, and it's something we all do.  Sometimes we know about what we're doing, sometimes we're unaware.  Sometimes we do it alone, sometimes we do it with others.  Sin is ubiquitous.  So what are we to do?  First acknowledge our sin.  Second, we can consider how Jesus perceives our sins: not something to condemn us but something we need to overcome.  There's a reason the church has always claimed that "Jesus saves."  Us. From our sins.  But we need to want to be saved, we need to receive God's grace.  To not be indolent but to repent.

You know the old saying, "the grass is greener on the other side of the fence."  Well, sometimes, it's not.  I was reminded of that this morning.  I have to deal with a bunch of things today, including the damage to our car from being rear ended earlier this month (we're okay, the car is banged up, the insurance company has been great).  I was really feeling that things, well, stank.  Then when I got to church three people driving an old car with New York plates were waiting. Turns out they needed assistance, which I was able to give them, thanks to our church's Open Door ministry.  The short version of this story is this: their problems were bigger than mine.  If you're feeling put upon, just know somebody else has it worse than you.  I'm not saying your challenges aren't real, but I bet you can handle them, especially with some prayer and patience. This Lent, let's repent from the sin of self absorption.  Let's ask for a sen

We're now hip deep in Lent.  It's been a tad more than four weeks, and we still have a bit more than three more to go.  It seems like a good idea to check in, to see how we're doing.  How are those disciplines going?  Repentance?  Have you actually thought about your own mortality? If you haven't get cracking.  If you have, keep it up.  Holy Week, then Easter, will be here before you know it and you do want to be prepared don't you?  So if you're going to do one thing for Lent today, take stock of where you've been, where you want to be, and how you plan, with God's help, on getting there.

My flight landed after midnight, my bag took awhile to arrive in the claims area, but finally I hopped on the bus to the lot to go to my car.  Which, it turned out was as dead as a dodo.  Nada. Nothing.  My battery seemed to have gone to the great beyond.  It was 'round one AM, without any help available, and having used some distinctly unpastoral language to vent my frustration, I called the hotel shuttle bus to go to the Holiday Inn.  The two women driving were amazing.  At the hotel, the young man at the desk was super.  All of this in the middle of the night. I've stayed in a lot of hotels over the years, some of them really, really nice ones.  But the hospitality I received last night helped me put things back into perspective.  I'm going to go deal with my car issue now.  And when I inevitably want to bang my head on the wall, I will remember the folks at the Holiday Inn Airport Manchester, NH.

I'm keeping this short this morning and simply posing a proposition and a question: We're meant to follow the Way of Jesus, who dedicated his ministry to sharing the word of God, making it known to humanity in his life and death.  One of the ways he did that was to help people.  Following Jesus, what will you do to help someone today?

I found it ironic that after preaching about death on Sunday morning, I found myself on a Boeing jet out of Manchester.  Did you know that the 737 Max 8 is closely related to the 737 800?  Probably, you didn't and you don't care, but as I looked at the safety card, I found myself wondering. Yes, the odds of an aviation mishap are fleetingly small. That the airline would somehow still be flying Max 8s after the grounding defied rational thought.  Still. Still. My flight, which had a connection to another 737 800 landed safely.  But I was reminded last night that sometimes things really are beyond our control.  Lent is a good time to remind ourselves of this.  We shouldn't be fatalistic, but we should learn to acknowledge that we are not masters of all we survey. When we do that, we can then choose to see the universe is a bleak, hospitable place or the Kingdom of God, a realm where the Lord reigns.  God or nothing?  That's an easy choice, one I can c

During Lent, we are encouraged to reflect on our mortality.  Admittedly, this is not something we enjoy doing.  Who wants to die, after all?  But die we will, each and every one of us.  That means you.  That means me.  Someday, each of us will shuffle off this mortal coil, kick the bucket, go to meet our Maker. Think about that: go to meet our Maker . Do we live our lives as if that's true? Do we honestly live our lives as if that's true?  I suspect not.  Even though we may go to church and profess a love of God, our actions often reflect otherwise.  Lent is a time to come clean with God and ourselves about this truth. The reality of death need not be rushed into but it also need not be avoided.  We should make the most of the time we have here on earth - after all, this is the world that God created.  But when we die, our faith and the tradition of the church tells us that Jesus will be waiting for us. That should not be feared, but seen as

We've all gotten angry at some point in our lives.  Sometimes it's been justified, sometimes not.  And then there are the times our anger is unjustified but we tell ourselves otherwise.  That kind of anger is not helpful.  We target our negative feelings at a person, or a group, or, well, something.  Being angry feels just soooo good sometimes.  Well, so does binging on chocolate or some other delight.  Indulgences of vices usually come back to haunt us.  With food or drink or credit cards, the price we pay is pretty obvious (stomach ache, hangover, debt) but with emotions the cost is subtle but just as costly.  That rage we allow to build up hurts our relationships and it hurts us.  So next time anger is a temptation, step away, say a prayer, repent, and go on with your life.

Today, March 22, is supposedly the second full day of Spring.  Which is why as I look out my window I see snow falling. The weather app on my phone is predicting accumulation of up to 2 inches, and the weather service has forecast 3 to 6 inches for parts of New Hampshire and Maine.  I know this is New England.  But right now I can sympathize with people who ask about the reality of global warming.  It sure doesn't feel warmer out there. Of course, we know that is warmer just about everywhere else and that temperatures have been rising.  So, bleh, climate change is real.  But refusing to see the evidence all around us can be so easy, so tempting.  If we don't see something, part of our brains tell us, it's not happening.  Deny the problem and there is no problem.  Those of us who accept the reality of a changing climate can't understand why others don't.  But before we get to smug, what's going on with climate change denial is the same as what

The politician who points out the supposed failing of an opponent while ignoring his own faults is all too familiar.  Activists point to outsiders for the woes suffered by their community but rarely look to their own shortcomings.  The child says it was the fault of somebody else.  There's a reason that the Parson Weems tale of a young George Washington remains popular: the idea of someone taking responsibility for this wrongdoing is refreshing and all too rare. Jesus knew about this.  The Authorized Version of  Matthew 7.5 has him saying, " Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother’s eye."  (There are probably more accurate, or at least timely, translations but frankly to me the KJV sounds better).  The beam is a log, the mote a speck of dust.  Two thousand years on Jesus' admonition is still spot on.  Lent is a great time for us to heed him, to acknowledge t

Today marks the Vernal Equinox.  In terms of Lent, that means nothing.  We still need to repent, we still need to reflect, we still need to reflect on our mortality.  Doing so on a day that we associate with returning life, and even new birth, gives us a taste of what awaits us at the end of this season.  For us, the season of new life begins on Easter.  But we can anticipate the day by preparing for it.  So while the sun shines today, and the sky here is crystal clear, we focus on our disciplines, regardless of whether their is an equinox.

I've always thought the flying monkeys in the film version of the Wizard of Oz we're creepy.  Despite the decades old special effects, those simians are still a more potent instiller of fear than anything else I've seen in the movies.  Mind you, I'm not scared of them now and I don't know that I ever really was, but they still strike me as being wicked and best avoided.  But we're talking about them, so, we'll stick with them for a bit. I wonder what L Frank Baum was thinking when he conjured up those monkeys.  Something had to be in this mind, maybe subconsciously, for him to create them.  Which leads me to a question: do you have something you fear?  Something that you might imagine in tangible form?  It might be monsters, it might be the tax man, or it might be confronting your sins. Ah, yes, sin.  It's ugly like a flying monkey.  And it dive bombs and buzzes us, depending on the circumstances.  But it's there.  And whe

As we begin the Second Week in Lent, I'd like to reflect on repentance.  It's something we all need to do, every single one of us. Some of us have truly grievous sins for which we need to repent, others smaller foibles.  All need to be atoned for.  We all have sinned, both as part of groups and as individuals.  Sometimes we know what we are doing, and sometimes we stray inadvertently.  But we all do it.  We all sin.  No ifs, no ands, no buts. So we're never really done sinning.  Which means we should never be done repenting.  I'm not suggesting a quick, insincere apology to God for embezzling from your employer makes everything right.  But if we are sincere, and are willing to acknowledge our failings to the One who made us, then we have hope of getting things right.  Yes, we may be fallen.  But as the old ad has it, if we admit we need help getting up - in this case from the God who came to us in Jesus and who moves us through the Holy Spirit - we can

It's finally here: the global celebration of a Briton who went to Ireland, supposedly drove out the snakes, and converted the population to Christianity while forging the Irish identity all so we could gather in pubs and drink beer.  Sarcastic? Yes. Honestly, I can't think that the way we celebrate St. Patrick's Day would really please the saint.  If we wanted to do something he'd approve of, perhaps we might pursue reconciliation: this was the guy who was supposedly sold into slavery by Irish captors, only to gain his freedom -- to return to them to do his holy work.  If you're estranged from somebody try to heal the rift.  If you're convinced someone else is wrong, give the matter a second thought.  If you think being pigheaded is what the Lord wants, try again.  St. Patrick's Day falls during Lent.  That makes it a perfect time to repent, among other things. So let us seek forgiveness for building barriers, for setting ourselves apa

Yesterday, we all awoke to the news of the mass murder of Muslims at prayer in New Zealand.  A couple of months ago, it was news about the mass murder of Jews at prayer in Pittsburgh.  You may recall stories about Christians at prayer being killed in the Philippines and Egypt.  So much killing. For what?  What warped vision of God do all these killers hold?  Can we ever make sense of it?  Can we stop it? We live in an increasingly entangled, interconnected world.  We are not all the same. But we do have to live together.  And we need to live out a vision of God that shows his love, his redemptive power, his life giving grace.  We need to reject the ancient hatreds that drive us.  And let us make no bones about it.  It's not just "them" who is tempted.  It is "us", you and me.

Have you ever been at work, just about ready to wrap things up, and then you think of one more thing that needs to be done?  That often leads to thoughts about other things that merit our attention.  Do we act now or wait until a later time?  There's wisdom in knowing that not everything has to be done right now.  On the other hand, at some point, we will be out of time. I think this is worth remembering early in Lent.  We still have a lot of time before us.  But this season will come to an end.  We will need to repent and, frankly, that's better done sooner than later.  Maybe not all of it, but a bit.  So take some time to turn back to God today.  Don't worry. You won't have to complete your repentance today.  But you do need to start.

Sorry, but we're going back to technology today.  In the time between posting my reflection to my personal Facebook feed and the church's feed, Facebook stopped responding.  All day long - nothing.  I learned later on, as did many others, that there was an outage that affected many, many people.  You know what?  The earth continued to spin on its axis. Imagine really being cut off.  From  God.  From your family. From your friends.  All too often we let this happen, allowing ourselves to be distracted by work, tech, or some other indulgence.  Lent is a good time to confess this sin of isolation and to take steps to move back into healthy, faithful relationships with God and those people in our lives who matter to us.

When I was in Boston the other day, I rode on the T, the city's mass transit system, something I've done a lot over the years.  I was struck by two things: how so many people were staring at the screens of their phones, and how, on the whole, young people seemed to be.  Here in the Upper Valley, they seem to be older. I know that cities have always drawn the young and hungry; I remember when I was one of them.  I lived on Beacon Hill for almost a decade, but that now seems like a long time ago.  What happened? Well, the obvious answer is I got older.  But as I've aged, I think I look at different things, value different priorities.  I had a strong urge to tell the young people that time goes by faster than we think it will, that they should seize life when the opportunities are comparatively endless, and that, yes, they should get off their phones (see yesterday's reflection).  But I didn't.  Instead I sat with my thoughts and considere

Yesterday, I was in Boston with my old computer.  I was unable to use it to post my lenten reflection to Face Book.  Apparently, my old Mac Book isn't cool enough for Zuckworld.  This morning, my office computer is having trouble settling on a wifi network, and keeps switching back between the church's and the Fire Deparments.  Maybe my computer is on a pilgrimage.  It's all very annoying.  But it's also a reminder of our dependence on technology.  In many ways its a sin. Consider the amount of time we spend on our smart phones, tablets, computers, etc.  Objectively, none of this is healthy.  Don't get me wrong: I like the internet, the access I have to news, the ability to buy books from anywhere, the means to stay in touch with people.  But as more time passes, the Faustian nature of the bargain we've struck with technology becomes ever clearer.  We were told we were building a modern Eden.  Instead, we're stuck in modern garbage pit.

For most people the work week begins on Monday, but not me. I start on Sunday, and usually quite early.  So I feel that I have a head start on when the traditional work week begins.  Does any of this matter? Well, we need to have reference points of beginnings and endings.  Lent has only just begun but if you're like me, you can already see the end.  That's not good.  Lent may be a solemn season but it is one to be savored.  We all too rarely take time in our lives to take stock and we all need to do that.  I'm looking forward to the week - and weeks - ahead.

Today marks the beginning of Daylight Savings Time.  Yes, summer time.  And to make it all that much more surreal, there's a forecast for snow this morning.  What's going on? Sometimes, it seems as if everything is topsy turvy in our modern world.  Everything is fast and busy and for some reason, we feel a need to then confuse it all.  This is one of the reasons we need Lent.  Despite the fact that we delude ourselves into believing we run everything, the truth is far different.  Time keeps its own pace, and so does nature.  We may be able to play with what our clocks tell us, or make rain, but ultimately it is God, not humans, who exercise control.  Let's use this Lent to ask forgiveness for our hubris.

For those among us foolish enough to spend any time on social media, there's a good chance you've come across a meme of a snowbound landscape saying that one was giving up winter for lent.  Cue chuckle. Frankly, there's so much wrong with this "joke".  First, should Lent be something that we use for cheap gags?  Second, has anyone really thought of what would happen without winter?  Goodbye snowpack, hello summer water shortages.  Third, has a meme ever changed anybody's mind or contributed to deeper thought about something?  In this age of 280 character tweets and snarky Facebook memes, Lent is a radical concept.  We take 40 whole days, not minutes, to reflect on our sins, rather than what somebody else is doing wrong.  Lent isn't about us and our desires, it's about God and what God wants from us. Lent is a time for us to get real, to take seriously our lives, to set priorities that will bring us closer to Jesus.  If you're l

When I was a kid growing up outside of New York, one had a choice of giving ones loyalties one of two baseball teams: the Yankees and the Mets. For reasons unclear to me, I cast my lot with the Mets.  Perhaps it was World Series-winning teams they fielded in 1969 (they won) and 1973 (they lost).  Perhaps it was the uniforms.  Most likely it was the players, guys like Jerry Koosman, the manager Yogi Berra, and of course the inestimable Tom Seaver. Tom Seaver.  What a pitcher.  Dominant.  Brilliant.  And sadly, we learned yesterday, suffering from dementia.  His family announced that he was withdrawing from public appearances and would focus on his Napa vineyard while he still can.  My heart sank, not just because this is a horrible fate for anyone to suffer, but because it meant another pillar of my childhood was fading into the mists of time.  Tom Seaver was always a young guy, virile and strong.  But the man I remember is no longer with us.  Like all of us, he has

Well, we're here.  Lent has begun and, frankly, I don't know what to do. Sure, I can give up something (doing that), take on something else (doing that), pray (yep), and repent (I'll get to that.  Really I will.).  But what do I do right now ?  As I write this reflection, it occurs to me that I can be still, listen to the sounds of the world around me.  Perhaps I'll hear God addressing me through the Spirit. Relying on God isn't something we should save for moments of great peril or need.  We can trust in our Lord all the time.  But can we trust in ourselves to let go and follow Jesus' path?  That's not so easy. So, I have something to do, now, throughout Lent and the rest of my life: really trust God and follow his Way. 

Someone wished me a 'Happy Lent' this morning.  That gave me pause. Lent isn't a time of joy.  It's always had a reputation for being somber.  As I stood in front of the church this morning ready to dispense ashes it was 2 degrees.  I certainly didn't feel happy. But is this really an inappropriate wish?  Is it out of order? Nope. Yes, this is a time to repent, a time to perhaps give something up so we might focus on clearing the decks.  But the outcome, the goal is that we get right with God and God's people.  And that, I think, is something worth celebrating.  It's a cause to be ... happy.