The Mainline Minister

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.