New birth and a living hope – transformed by Christ

Second Sunday of Easter (1 Peter 1:3-9)  4/27/2014

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Last week I mentioned the important meaning of this year’s Boston Marathon, especially in light of the tragic events of last year’s race. The Boston Marathon is significant in many ways for those who run the race. There is, first and foremost, hundreds of hours of training…an act of dedication on the part of the runner. Although I have never run a full marathon, I have spent a few months training with friends who have run marathons and I can attest to the commitment they put forth. After countless hours of training and preparation, the day of the big race finally arrives. This year’s Boston Marathon included more than 35 thousand runners (the second most in the race’s history) and was blessed with beautiful weather! Cheering fans lined the streets of the 26.2 mile course and provided excitement and support to all those who pass by. As the moments passed by and after the elite runners quickly ran past, the cheering fans remained to support the competitors who run because they love it; for many runners, the Boston Marathon is a very special moment in their lives. This year, there was a man from Massachusetts who was running in the race and he had nearly reached the 26 mile point, just a few hundred yards from the finish line…and he found that he had run out of energy, the muscles in his legs giving up on him. It is not uncommon to see runners taking a rest during the race, but with just a short distance remaining this man collapsed to his knees, unable to move. I can imagine his lonely agony, surrounded by thousands of people, yet feeling alone in the moment as he slumped to his knees unable to move. Runners continued to pass by, focused on that line just ahead, but there was one man from Illinois who did something surprisingly different – he stopped and supported the slumping man by lifting him under his arm. And then another man from Texas stopped to support the other arm. As the three runners moved slowly forward, unable to sustain their forward movement, two additional runners stopped as well, a man from Minnesota and a woman from Seattle. The group moved toward the finish line, a weary man supported by four exhausted runners: time didn’t matter, the rules of the race that prohibited assisting others didn’t matter, nothing mattered except helping each other, and in helping each other, everyone was dramatically transformed.[i] Continue reading

Maundy Thursday: care & compassion for others

Maundy Thursday (John 13:1-17; 31-35)  4/17/2014

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Earlier this week many people took time to remember an event that took place one year ago; a tragic event that ripped through the streets of Boston and ripped through the lives of many, many people. We wish we need not remember days like these, but there is some powerful truth about our common life together that is unlocked and exposed for all to see as we experience events that are beyond our control. The bombing at last year’s Boston Marathon was a day that held this truth for us. The marathon in Boston is not just another sporting event, not just a special day for people who like to run distances that immediately make the rest of us wonder where we left our car keys. No, the marathon is a special part of Boston’s character and spirit; run on a celebratory day that remembers the town’s unique place in the struggle that led to the birth of our nation. The bombs did not simply create the tragic deaths of three people and the injuries of hundreds more, but they shattered the peaceful patterns of people’s understanding of a day that had been celebrated for generations. In the immediate aftermath of the bombs’ destructive force, both people and the community’s sense of peace lie in agony. And if that were the end of the story, it would certainly be a story we would hope to soon forget, but that moment was only the beginning of the larger story that continues to this day and beyond. The larger story is the story of the powerful truth about our common life together, and this is the story we must not forget, this is the story we must remember as we gather together in later days. As the Governor of Massachusetts said to those gathered in Boston this past Tuesday, “There are no strangers here. We are all connected to each other, to events beyond our control, to a common destiny.”[i] The powerful truth of that common destiny is that we are called to serve each other, in times filled with joy and in times filled with sorrow.

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The Great Silence of Holy Week

Palm Sunday (Matthew 27:11-54)  04/13/2014

As we come into the presence of God, whether alone or in a group as we do this morning, there are many varieties of worship and prayer: sacred music, the reading of Scripture, intercessory prayer, or meditation to name just a few. A month ago I spent a few days at the Holy Cross Monastery and joined the brothers of that Order in their time of silence in the presence of God. Extended periods of silence are sometimes hard to find these days, and there are certainly those for whom this is good news…I will admit, silence is not for everyone, and fortunately we have many varieties of worship and prayer. But silence holds a particular power and silence is something we experience this morning as we listen to the dramatic story of the Passion of Jesus Christ. Continue reading

Holy “thin places” and the presence of Christ

Fifth Sunday in Lent (John 11:1-45)  04/06/2014

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A few years ago my family and I spent a fun and exciting week on vacation in Nevada and Arizona, the highlight for me being our visit to the Grand Canyon. During our time there we spent a day rafting down a river that cut through the Glen Canyon, an area just north of the Grand Canyon. Floating down the river was a spectacular experience, watching the multitude of vibrant colors paint the canyon walls and seeing the many layers of rock and sediment, each layer reaching out into the present, telling its own story of the past. Beyond the rugged beauty of the place, there was a deep spiritual element that seemed to pervade the entire canyon. The canyon seemed to be what many people have called a “thin place;” a place where the separation between heaven and earth is so narrow the face of God seems to be just around the corner. I do not mean to suggest God has some peculiar preference for a few spots on earth over others, but there is some tangible power and mystery to certain holy places. The manifestation of this holy presence, in these thin places, is the foundation of the Christian discipline of pilgrimage. Pilgrims often set aside their cares of the world and take up a journey to seek these thin places, to seek an experience with God in new and mysterious ways (our J2A pilgrims are very familiar with this idea and can attest to its power). We are nourished and nurtured in powerful ways as we come into the presence of the God; powerful ways that sustain us in times when we might feel more distant or perhaps more challenged to be close to the presence of the holy. Continue reading