Why Exactly Are We Reading This?

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“Herod’s Birthday Feast”, Edward Armitage, 1868

Scripture Text: Mark 6: 14-29 (Proper 10B)

14King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” 15But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” 16But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

17For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. 18For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” 19And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, 20for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. 21But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. 22When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” 23And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” 24She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” 25Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” 26The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. 27Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, 28brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. 29When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

Why are we reading this and what, pray tell, does this have to do with us?  No, I didn’t choose to write on this passage.  It’s actually the chosen Gospel passage for this week based on the Revised Common Lectionary.  And, when you say you’re going to write on the lectionary, this is what you get.  So why is this Gospel passage part of our Scriptures at all?  It’s often recognized as one of those so-called “texts of terror” and seems to be tastelessly and somewhat haphazardly nestled among tales of Jesus’ healing and teaching and miracle-making.  And then this passage appears which isn’t even really focusing on Jesus at all.  That is the reason that I love the Lectionary.  It invites us to broaden our scope of what life holds and our view of where God is and how God moves in and through our lives.  No longer can we pick and choose that to which we will listen or plan the way in which God speaks in our lives.  No longer are we limited to our thirteen favorite passages.  Instead, we must open ourselves to God’s Holy Presence in every aspect of life, including those things that we’d rather just ignore.

We usually know John the Baptist as our “Advent guy”.  He was the one that leaped in the womb when Mary, pregnant with Jesus, entered the house.  He would grow up to be this wild wilderness-sort of man who wore animal skins and ate locusts and honey and preached a seemingly hell-fire and brimstone version of repentance to all he saw.  He was the forerunner, the one who would point to the Light that was to come.  And, if you remember, he was the one that baptized Jesus.  And after the baptism, we are told that John was arrested.  And today’s passage begins to come to be.

It’s an odd story, almost fable-like.  Herod Antipas has had John arrested because John had denounced Herod for putting aside his legitimate wife and marrying the wife of his brother. (Whoever told us that soap operas were a modern invention?)  And yet, on some level, Herod found John sort of fascinating, maybe even respected what he had to say and yearned to hear more, although he definitely thought it was disturbing and confusing and there was no way he could admit this fascination to anyone.  But he certainly did not wish him dead.  But this was not the case with Herod’s wife. So, in order to accommodate his wife’s wrath, he has John arrested.

And then Herod throws himself a birthday party, a big to-do with lots of good food, good wine, and dancing.  And the entertainment for the evening was provided by the young, beautiful, dancing daughter of either Herod’s new (and John had contended illegitimate) wife or of Herod himself (the passage is a little confusing on that fact).  Some people think that this was Salome’, who is depicted as one of the “bad girls” of the Bible. (Don’t know one way or the other!)  Well Herod was so pleased with her performance that he promises her anything.  The world was hers.  She could have anything that she wanted.

So, the young girl runs to her mother just outside the room.  Here was Herodias’ chance.  Her nemesis John would meet his demise and she would be rid of him forever.  And the young girl returns to the party and makes the fateful request for John the Baptist’s head on a platter.  Herod must have nearly choked.  This was not what he wanted!  His vengeful wife and this spoiled child had crossed the line.  He knows that no matter who John is, he does not deserve death.  But, as the governor, he was in what he construed as a tenuous position at best.  After all, he had made a promise and had voiced it aloud in front of numerous witnesses.  If he didn’t follow through with it, no one would trust him again.  So, to save face and to secure the balance of power, he complied.  After all, he was governor.  Some things have to be done for the good of society and for the preservation of the way things are.  And, let’s be honest, there is not one of us here who doesn’t want to be liked by others.  Herod was no different.

But this is not just an historical account about Herod.  I really do think that somewhere in this passage, we are meant to find and look at ourselves and our own lives.  Because we, too, make our own concessions—not to the point, obviously, of ordering someone’s death but in our own way we also bow to convenience and convention.  On some level we all live our lives wanting to be victorious and successful, wanting people to like us, and, like Herod, we sometimes miss the opportunity to do the right thing.  We close our ears and our minds and we look away, hoping the whole messy thing will just go away (or at least we won’t have to read about it!).  And we miss the opportunity to stand up and be who God is calling us to be.

Maybe that is the reason that this horrible story is here in the first place; otherwise, we’d all be tempted to start thinking that this Christian walk involves following some sort of miracle working-healing-rock star-Superman character.  Well, sign us all up for that!  But it’s not about that.  Jesus kept telling everyone not to say anything about all those miracles because following Christ does not mean going where the miracles are; it means becoming Christ-like.  It means becoming holy.  It means, finally, becoming human—fully human as Christ showed us how to be.

This story is one that is not about Jesus; it is rather about one of his followers, one who never wavered in his powerful witness.  This, like so many of the Scriptures, is a story of contrasts.  I think maybe the Gospel is a story of contrasts.  Think about it.  It’s always presented this way:  You can follow the crowd, be accepted, be what the world expects you to be.  You can follow the norms that society has laid down for us.  Or you can follow Jesus.  You can back away into the crowd and say that something should be done or ask why no one is doing anything.  Or you can follow Jesus.  You can BE the change.   We’re not called to admire Jesus; we’re called to become like Jesus.  And sometimes that means that we stand up.  Sometimes that means that we speak out. Sometimes that means we don’t follow the jerks down a terrible storyline.

Years ago I had the opportunity to visit Auschwitz.  I was struck by the obvious, of course. But what surprised me was what was around it.  It is located on a former military base in southern Poland near Krakow.  It’s out in the country away from the town with a railroad track running straight through it.  But around it are farmhouses—century-old farmhouses.  In other words, they were there in 1942.  And I wondered why they didn’t say anything.  There were cattle cars coming and going and the smell of burning flesh at times.  And I realized that as German as I am, those could be my relatives.  Why didn’t they say anything? Would I have said anything?  I fear that answer.

See, holiness is sort of a complex thing.  We crave it, we pursue it, and we try our best to attain it.  But most of us have to be honest with ourselves.  We want it at our beckoning and on our terms.  We don’t want to stir things up or get involved in places that are uncomfortable, that might reflect badly upon us.  We are a lot more like Herod than any of us care to admit.  We opt for convenience and convention and complacency and in a way spend our lives fearing the mystery of holiness, fearing what entering holiness and the unknown would mean for our lives.  Because, I will tell you, holiness will mess up your life more than you can possibly imagine.

You know, I once heard someone refer to the Christian life as linear—as a sequence of steps as we move from creation, through growth and the pursuit of Christian perfection so that we might finally reach that place where we are one with God.  I don’t think that’s right.  I don’t think of Christian perfection, or heaven, or whatever you imagine it to be as something to which we somehow graduate.  It’s actually here and now.  If we just open our eyes, we will see glimpses of the sacred and the holy everywhere.  We will be aware that God is calling us to do something different–now.  And I think God knows that there is a time when things that are wrong come to light.  There is a time when we really are called to look at our own lives and sort of re-evaluate. When we finally stop doing what we think we should be doing or maintaining the life we’ve worked so hard to build or trying to please those who we think we should be pleasing and listen for that which God is calling us to be we will become aware of that holiness of which we are already a part.

There is no doubt that this is still a bizarre thing to include in our Lectionary or even in our Scriptures.  But maybe it’s a call to us to redefine what we think our lives are.  Maybe it’s a way of realizing that becoming holiness does not mean our comfortable business as usual.  Retired United Methodist Bishop William Willimon says that “It’s a fearful thing to commend our spirits to God because well, who knows what God will do with our lives?”  That is the crux—submitting one’s life to God means that one gives up control, gives up the “plan” that one has laid out for his or her life.  Submitting one’s life to God means that one’s life as he or she knows it ends.  And that is indeed a scary thing. 

A familiar poem by Robert Frost includes the line, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”  That is it.  That is discipleship.  It is not straight; it’s not linear; it is not easy; it is not predictable.  Sometimes it’s messy.  Sometimes you will lose standing or power or that comfortable existence that you’ve so hard to maintain.  Sometimes you will find yourself waiting for someone else to do something, to do the right thing.  What if that’s supposed to be you?  Sometimes you have to stand and do the right thing. 

How would history have changed if Herod had done the right thing, if he had ignored his need for power or recognition and instead had done what he knew was right?  We’ll never know.  What would have happened if some of those farmhouses had had the courage to speak out?  We’ll never know.  But we can do the right thing now.  We can stand and speak for justice and equality and mercy.  We can be the change that the world needs.  That’s what discipleship is.  It’s showing the world what it means to be courageous, to be the one, to be fully human.

Never for the sake of peace and quiet deny your own experience or convictions. (Dag Hammarskjold)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Sent

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Scripture Text: Mark 6:1-13 (Proper 9B)

He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 2On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. 4Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” 12So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

This story is told in all four Gospels, so it must have been seen as important.  It must be a story to which we should listen.  The truth was that Jesus wasn’t seen as a prophet or a Messiah by this crowd.  He was just one of them, this little kid that had made good and of whom they were very proud.  This was the kid that they had helped raise.  They probably thought that his ministry would be a reflection on them.  But Jesus was going off-script, so to speak.  And when they looked at him, they did not see a reflection of what they were expecting but a dim view of something that was a tad unfamiliar.  Jesus was standing there, calling them to change, calling them to look at things differently, to step out of their carefully constructed boxes and away from their earthly temples of who they thought they should be and actually become the people of God. So, who did he think he was?  God?

And then he called the disciples and sent them out.  Now, truthfully, they were already “called”.  That had already happened.  This was the sending.  This was the place where he gives them the authority to go out and BE his disciples. And, if you read a little farther, he tells them not to take any food or money, not a bag, not even a change of clothes.  This always struck me as weird.  So, they go out into the world without really being prepared?  I think maybe Jesus didn’t want them to be weighed down.  He didn’t want them to rely solely on themselves because when we do that, it becomes about us.  And this was not about the disciples; it was about the journey on which they were called to go. 

Then (still reading farther) Jesus tells them that if someone doesn’t welcome them, if someone doesn’t listen, if someone doesn’t extend hospitality to them, if someone out and out rejects them, don’t worry about it.  Just “shake off the dust from your feet”.  That is hard.  When you feel like you’re right, when you feel like you’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing, it is really hard to walk away from rejection.  But it’s another reminder that it’s not about us.  Sometimes stuff just doesn’t happen the way we plan.  Maybe the person that comes to them next will get through.  Maybe no one will ever get through.  Maybe they’re just locked into their own preconceived notion of who God is and who they should be.   Jesus essentially tells them not to worry about it.  Do what you can because that’s what you’re there to do.  Just let it go.  Your mission is to bring healing and reconciliation to those who need it.  Your mission is to tell the story.

You know what Jesus DOESN’T say?  (I am fascinated by this idea…maybe what Jesus doesn’t say is just as important as what he does!)  Surprisingly, he doesn’t tell them what to say to people.  He doesn’t give them a prescribed set of Biblical interpretations or some pre-ordained “orthodox” theological premise.  He gives them no notes, no reading hints, and no check-off list of beliefs that they are supposed to accept and espouse.  He gives them no bulletin or video screen to prompt their words.  He doesn’t give them some bizarre 1-minute “elevator speech” to convert someone to the faith while they’re flying between Floor 1 and Floor 4.  (I’m sorry.  That was always an odd concept to me.  I actually think starting a faith journey is a lot more substantive than a 1-minute elevator ride.  But that’s just me.)  Instead, Jesus tells them to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God.  He sends them out to tell the story—to anybody, to everybody, to whomever they encounter who will listen.  And he tells them to adapt, to be nimble.  He reminds them that it’s not about them or what they think.  It’s about the good news.  It’s about God.  And he leaves room for them to wrestle with their own understanding.

I know.  “Adaptable” and “nimble” are not the first words that come to your mind when you’re talking about our faith.  They are certainly not the primary words used to describe the church.  But maybe they should be.  What if faith is not, after all, a fortress?  What if belief is not intended to be rigid or staid? What if our theological understandings actually grew?  (Goodness, mine have!) What if our faith means openness to change, openness to the newness that God offers us?  What if our faith was adaptable to that change?  What if our faith grew into something we never imagined because we were open to it?  What if our next crisis of faith, our next crisis of the church, made us recognize the way that God had turned our path just a bit?  What if we went out into the world as God’s disciples to tell the story, to invite, to gather, rather than to convert?

So, the picture on the left is an image of the Choluteca Bridge over the Choluteca River in Honduras.  It was built in the 1930’s by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers and it’s an important bridge on a very busy road called the Panamericana.  The picture on the right is the same bridge after Hurricane Mitch in 1998.  Now, contrary to your first thought, no, the hurricane did not do anything to the bridge.  The bridge is fine.  The hurricane moved the river.  (Oh my!) Adaptable and nimble…things happen, things out of our control.  But our faith tells us that God will turn our paths toward the new river.  But if we don’t listen, we will find ourselves on a bridge to nowhere.

Faith and belief and religious expression are messy.  Jesus knew that.  I think he also knew that they change.  They grow.  Sometimes they even shrink.  That’s why we’re sent out—to keep telling the story.  The words will change.  The people will change.  Churches will change.  (They grow, they split, they regroup, they rediscover who they are…looking at you United Methodists!  It’s all OK.)  Sometimes even the river will move.  But, most of all, WE will change. And God will walk with us through the bends and curves and speed bumps that we find.  If someone doesn’t want to hear us, it is not our job to ram it down their throat.  There is someone else that has the words they will hear.  Let it go.  Faith is not about rules or prescribed beliefs or, of all things, laws and politics.  Faith is about a story.  Just tell the story.  Tell it from your heart.  It’s there.

Jesus told the disciples he sent out to take nothing with them, to travel light.  It was so they weren’t weighed down and tempted to stay where they were.  We could take a valuable lesson from that.  It’s hard but sometimes we need to be more open to change.  Because this world that God created is always changing, always growing, always alive.  There’s sort of a wildness to it, not to be tamed or fixed, but to be embraced and entered.  We are called to go out into the world and change it.  But, more importantly, we are called to move to where God is leading us and allow ourselves to be changed.  Our traditions and our theological understandings and our beliefs and our religions are not theories.  They simply give us the words to tell the story and the story is God’s.  So they went out.  And we are called to do the same.

“Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” (G.K. Chesterton)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Healed

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Scripture Text: Mark 5:21-43 (Proper 8B)

21When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him; and he was by the sea. 22Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet 23and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” 24So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him. 25Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. 26She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. 27She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.” 29Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. 30Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?” 31And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” 32He looked all around to see who had done it. 33But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. 34He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” 35While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house to say, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” 36But overhearing what they said, Jesus said to the leader of the synagogue, “Do not fear, only believe.” 37He allowed no one to follow him except Peter, James, and John, the brother of James. 38When they came to the house of the leader of the synagogue, he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. 39When he had entered, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping.” 40And they laughed at him. Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father and mother and those who were with him, and went in where the child was. 41He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means, “Little girl, get up!” 42And immediately the girl got up and began to walk about (she was twelve years of age). At this they were overcome with amazement. 43He strictly ordered them that no one should know this, and told them to give her something to eat.

We’re getting used to Jesus and the disciples crossing that lake.  The reason is that at this point this lake WAS the center of their lives.  Many were fishermen.  All used it to get to places.  So, they go back across the lake and it is there that the writer of Mark’s Gospel sets the stage for two healing stories sort of nestled against each other.  We’re familiar with these healing stories.  But they make us wonder aloud, don’t they?  Does that still happen?  Did it really happen the way we think? Why doesn’t that happen to us? Or are we reading something into these stories that aren’t there?  We often hear these healing stories couched as a testament to individual faith, as a depiction of healing that comes because of the level of faith that a person holds.  Really?  So, what does that say about those who are NOT healed in the way we think they should be?  What does that say about their faith?  What does it say about our faith?

The truth is that healing is not based on a lottery or some sort of magic talisman.  Maybe we’ve not understood it completely.  I mean, look at these stories.  Why these particular people?  They could not be more different.  One was rich and one was poor; one was young and one was, by first century standards, old; and one was a part of the class that ran the society, that enjoyed power and prestige and all the benefits that that might bring in our world and the other—well, the other had to forcefully push her away into the crowd from the forgotten fringes of those who were not valued and who were not considered part of acceptable society.

But it doesn’t say that they were “fixed”.  It doesn’t say that things were put back into place as they were before.  It actually doesn’t even imply that they were cured.  God doesn’t fix things; God transforms them.  But I don’t think that transformation happens because of our faith in God.  In fact, I think it’s a little misleading and, in some cases, downright dangerous to hang all our hopes on some sort of fairy-tale-type ending that we have created in our minds.  That’s not faith and it’s not usually very healing.  Healing happens because of God’s faith in us, God’s faith in what we can be and what this world can become, God’s faith that we can trust that miracles can happen (and do every day!), and that even we can be healed.  (Not “fixed”, not put back the way we were, but healed.)  Even we can be made whole—maybe not in a moment, maybe not in a month, maybe not in a decade.  Have faith that God will make you whole.  Now THAT’S transformative!

So, another story…you know the one:  A young girl named Dorothy is at home minding her own Kansas business when an unforeseen tornado whisks her away to the other side of life.  Now things wouldn’t have been so bad, except that in this dreamy nightmare, her house has inadvertently landed on a witch and the witch’s sister is extremely displeased.  So, Dorothy, with directions from a good witch, makes her way down the yellow-brick road to see the Wizard of Oz.  If only she can get to the Wizard, she will find her way home.  If only she can make it there, everything will be fixed.  And along the way, with the wicked witch hot on her tail, she meets this motley cast of characters, all of whom are bemoaning their lot in life, thinking, “if only…”.  The Scarecrow contends that if he only had a brain, he could think, he could confer, he could consult, he could be.  And, for the Tin Man, if only he had a heart, he would love, he would be human.  And the Lion…he could reclaim his identity if only he had courage.  And Dorothy?  Well, we all know…if only she could just get home.

So, did you ever think of this as a healing story?  At the risk of destroying your childhood memories, the story did not end like most fairy tales do. So, do you remember what happened with the Wizard of Oz?  The Scarecrow found his brain when his mind was opened.  The Tin Man found his heart once he filled it with compassion and love for others because that is how you become human.  And the Cowardly Lion finally gains the courage and the power that he most craved, but with it comes the responsibility to live and speak for justice and mercy for every single one of God’s children.  And then there’s Dorothy…we remember that at that point, the curtain was torn away and the Wizard of Oz was unveiled.  And there he was…one of us…nothing glamorous, just an ordinary (and extremely short) human.  But it didn’t matter.  Because the healing and the recreation was already there before, already a part of the journey.  And as long as Dorothy believed that there was something somewhere over the rainbow, she knew she would make it home.  And the way home—the way to healing, and renewal, and recreation–is already deep within you (although, admittedly, it helps if you have the most incredible red shoes known to us!).  God saw to that long ago.  It’s called grace…simply grace.  But, as Frederick Buechner said, “there’s only one catch…the gift of grace can be yours only if you’ll reach out and take it.  And maybe being able to reach out and take it is a gift too.”        

Healing does indeed happen.  Transformation happens.  I think it happens a lot more often than we think.  I think we sometimes miss it because we’re looking for what was, what will never be again, and we miss that we’re already on the road to healing.  The United Methodist Book of Worship says this about healing: 

“God does not promise that we shall all be spared suffering but does promise to be with us in our suffering.  Trusting that promise, we are enabled to recognize God’s sustaining presence in pain, sickness, injury, and estrangement.  Likewise, God does not promise that we will be cured of all illnesses; and we all must face the inevitability of death… The greatest healing of all is the reunion or reconciliation of a human being with God.”

So, part of living a life of faith is to trust that God holds a vision for something more, something beyond what we have now or had before.  Healing is not fixing or putting things back the way they were before; healing is bringing wholeness and oneness with God into someone’s life; healing is making God’s vision for us come to be; and, sometimes, it is trusting in the unknown and that which doesn’t make sense at all.  Albert Einstein once said that “there are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle or you can live as if everything is a miracle.”  Miracles and healing are all around us; but they don’t necessarily look like what we’ve imagined and definitely not what we’ve necessarily planned.  So, we need to open ourselves to God transforming us and, yes, we have been given the mind, the heart, and the courage to do just that.  God has put enough faith in us to walk toward healing, toward wholeness, toward who God envisions we can be.  We just enough faith to put one foot in front of the other and keep walking.

You who believe, and you who sometimes believe and sometimes don’t believe much of anything, and you who would give almost anything to believe if only you could…. ‘Get up,’ he says, all of you–all of you!” Jesus gives life not only to the dead, but to those of us who are “only partly alive…who much of the time live with our lives closed to the wild beauty and the miracle of things, including the wild beauty and miracle of every day we live and even of ourselves.” That, [he says], is the power at the heart of this story and all of our stories: “the power of new life, new hope, new being. (Frederich Buechner)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

“Help Me To Heal”

If I reach out my hand
Will you hold me
Will you help me to stand if I fall
If I can’t say my name
Will you know me
Oh will I still be me
If I lose it at all

[Chorus:]

Help me to heal
Help me to feel
All I know is what I see
So won’t you help me to believe
Help me to heal
If I’m not all I was
Will you love me
I’m afraid if I change you might go
As I face the unknown
Are you with me
Cause you know I can’t do this alone

[Chorus]

I know I’ll find the strength to fight
If I can trust I’m gonna be alright
So walk me through my darkest fears tonight

[Chorus]

Writer: Kris Kristofferson
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

Stilled

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Scripture Text: Mark 4: 35-41 (Proper 7B)

35On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.” 36And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. 37A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. 38But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” 39He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. 40He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?” 41And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

So before we dive in, (that was a pun) I want to invite you to a little imagery.  What in your life needs to be calmed?  What is the thing that you feel like you just can’t control, just can’t get a handle on which way to go?  What is the storm that scares you and turns you and sometimes feels like it has knocked you off your feet?  We all have it, that thing that we’d just like someone to “fix”.  And I want you to imagine that storm.

This Gospel passage is one of the most familiar and oft-quoted stories in the Gospels.  Many of us can recall listening to this story as it was read to us from one of those children’s storybook bibles or seeing it depicted in paintings and pictures.  We like this story.  It tends to sometimes gives us a sense of composure about our lives, knowing that Christ can calm the storms, purge our fears, and make our lives into the way that we like them once again.

Here, Jesus stands on the edge of the boat with his arms outstretched over the whitecaps of a raging lake (it’s a like, rather than a sea).  With that image in mind, the text may become for us a miracle story demonstrating the divine power of Jesus.  This Jesus in whom we believe, this Jesus in whom we put our faith, can do anything—can pick up the pieces of our lives and put them back together, can calm the raging waters that frustrate our otherwise calm repose, and can turn our lives into what we cannot, calming the storms of disapproval, rejection, failure, meaningless, illness, and even death and providing us a veritable sanctuary to see all those things through. 

But the problem is that if we stop there, if for us Jesus becomes the one who always “fixes” things, who calms the chaos and puts things back the way they were, then I think we have missed a large part of who Jesus is.  Sometimes I think it’s good to be reminded that Jesus is not a superhero.  The promise is NOT that he will put things back the way they were; the promise is that life is more, that there is more waiting for us beyond what we see, and that we will always, always, always have someone with us as we walk through these storms.

I remember when I was a young adult.  I had moved to Denver with Apache Corporation and was facing my first winter beyond the (relatively) mild winters of South Texas.  Now you have to understand that I was an only daughter as well as an only granddaughter.  I was used to having things “fixed” for me. As I sat in my apartment on that coldest night that I had encountered so far in my new surroundings, the weatherman on the news, in an effort to insert some other facts of interest into an otherwise perilous situation, told us that oil in a car will congeal at 22 degrees below zero (Fahrenheit).  He then followed this fun fact with the prediction that the temperature that night would fall to 27 degrees below zero.  I thought of my brand new car sitting outside of the apartment building and I panicked.  I did the only thing I knew to do.  As the independent and assured young woman that I was, I called my dad. When I told him the dilemma (after waking him at 11:30 his time), his response completely threw me: “Shelli, I know that you think I have the answers to all of life’s questions, but, think about it—I have lived in Katy, TX my entire life.  Why would I know the answer to this question?  I think it was at that moment that my dad moved from being my “fixer” to being my father.  I think it’s safe to assume that the disciples had fallen into the same boat, so to speak.  Jesus was always there, always pulled them out of the murky water, always saving them usually from themselves. 

So, think about the passage again.  It was evening.  It was beginning to be dark as the light of day began to tip beneath the horizon.  And it was now that Jesus had suggested that they make their way to the other side of the lake, away from the familiar crowds, toward the unknown, perhaps the unfriendly and unwelcoming, with their small little entourage of boats.  Why would they do this?  Think about it.  They did not have access to the “Severe Weather Center” on their local news broadcast or that neat little weather app on your phone.  They had no navigation equipment or GPS.  They had no idea what they were getting into.  The darkness was always a symbol for the wilderness, for danger.  And the other side of the lake?  Completely unknown.  So, Jesus suggests that they venture into the wilds of the unknown, to leave the safety of the harbor behind.

And as they get out into the middle of the lake, a great windstorm arises, so great that the waves crash against the boats carrying Jesus and the disciples.  Now you have to remember that this was not a huge boat.  First century fishing boats were probably about 20 feet long and had no cover over them.  You couldn’t go down under deck.  The hull would have been maybe only four feet deep.  So before long, water begins to fill up the small boat. Not even the experienced fishermen in the bunch could do anything about this.  So they turn to Jesus.  Jesus will save them.  Jesus will fix this.  “Jesus, save us!”

And there is Jesus, sound asleep on the boat cushion at the rear of the boat.  You can imagine what the disciples thought.  “Are you kidding me?  Here we are, dying, and you are asleep!  What are you thinking?  Get up and save us!  Get up now!”  Now, odd as this may be to us, you can’t really blame Jesus.  He had to be tired.  He had been teaching in the hot sun and the crowds just wouldn’t leave him alone.  So, he lay down and he rested.  Everything would be alright.  And then he is jolted awake by these overly-dramatic disciples who can’t seem to take care of themselves or each other.  “Good grief,” he thought, “have you learned nothing from me?” So he got up and with a few simple words, “Peace! Be still!”, the storm subsided.  And they floated for a few moments, not saying a word to each other, as the boat glided through the water as if on glass.  Then Jesus turned to them.  “Have you no faith?  Have you learned nothing from me?”

So, as I mentioned before, we’re all familiar with this story.  It’s reading has been sort of drilled into us from an early age.  What if we’re reading it wrong?  What if Jesus didn’t really calm the waves but rather calmed the disciples’ stress and anxiety about them?  What if Jesus, with calming wisdom, simply guided the boat into a calm place, into a still cove that was sheltered from the winds and waves?  What if Jesus with a peace-filled repose took the helm and steered the boat away from the waves and then in the quietness, looked at the disciples and said peacefully, “Shhh….calm…everything is going to be OK.” What if Jesus wisely gave the disciples room to breathe?

At the risk of destroying your perceptions about the story, the notion that Jesus somehow fixes our lives by taking the storms away doesn’t really jive with the rest of the scriptures.  God doesn’t fix things; The Bible is not the story of a magician. God re-creates them.  And sometimes it means just looking at something differently or perhaps from a different place.  But all of us are often trying to escape the storm.  So, we look for something that will get us out of it.  But even when God steers us into the quiet, into the stillness, that doesn’t mean that it will always be that way or that we should stay there.  That is not the final plan.

When I was little, we used to swim in rice wells (because, you know…Katy).  It was fun and a little scary.  You had to crawl up onto this huge pipe and walk out on it over the water.  As the water gushed out of the pipe, it created these swirling typhoon-like waves of water.  And you jumped off and were forced down into it by the waters barreling out.  And then you swam a little and got out and did it again.  But you know what?  We never went into the still waters around the edge of the pond.  You know why?  It was dangerous.  It was rancid.  That’s where the snakes were. The safest place was the constantly-swirling water.

13th century mystic Mechtild of Magdeburg said that “the day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw—and knew I saw—all things in God and God in all things.”  You know, when we read this passage, we see God on the shore, amidst safety and predictability.  And we see God in the calming of the storm.  But we may miss the God in the darkness as our little boat sails away from the disappearing light.  We may miss God in the storms themselves that we encounter that make us realize that God has given us enough faith to get us through.  And we miss God in the unfamiliarity of the far shore, in the unknown lands toward which we sail.  We also miss the way God guides us into a place where we can sort of regroup and ready ourselves for the rest of the journey.  For us, fear is something we are supposed to overcome.   And yet, Jesus didn’t rebuke the disciples because they were afraid; his frustration was that they didn’t have faith to know that God was there with them, with them no matter what life brings.  That is why in the midst of all these storms and all this noise, in the midst of everything that goes on in our lives, we hear Jesus saying, “Peace! Be still…Come and follow me—not the noise, not the ones that tell you that life can be fixed. Untie your boats from the harbor and follow me.” And, in the meantime, God may steer you into a cove until you’re ready for the rest of the journey. God is not going to fix it; God is going to show you a new thing.  All you have to do is follow, no matter what the journey holds, because we’re on our way to Life.       

Suppose your whole world seems to rock on its foundation.  Hold on steadily and let it rock, and when the rocking is over, the picture will have reassembled itself into something much nearer to your heart’s desire. (Emmett Fox)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Seeds

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Scripture Text: Mark 4: 26-34 (Proper 6B)

26He also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, 27and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. 28The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. 29But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.”30He also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? 31It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; 32yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”33With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; 34he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.

It seems that Jesus was big on botanical images, doesn’t it?  But they work.  You plant seeds, you feed and care for them, and they grow into a plant, right?  But I think there’s something else.  Plants don’t grow because we make them grow.  Plants grow because that’s what plants do.  We can’t hurry them.  We can’t control them.  We can’t predict when they will bloom.  Oh, we can shape them and prune them and help them along but they’re pretty much going to do what they’re meant to do.  Regardless of how much we plan and how much we do, we cannot make our plant grow.  We are not called to plan when the harvest will happen or when it will end.  They sprout, they grow, they produce fruit, and they die.  They’re part of that cycle of life.  They’re part of us.  It doesn’t mean that we have nothing to do with it, though.  We are the scatterers and the gatherers.  We are the planters and the harvesters.

Next, Jesus once again uses that familiar little mustard seed.  We’ve read that many times before.  It’s tiny, really nothing more than a spec.  Now often when we read of this beloved mustard seed, so many of us imagine this tiny seed that grows into this big beautiful tree.  (I don’t know.  Was there a Sunday School picture that depicted that?) You’ve heard that image.  People like to use it to depict what even a tiny bit of faith can do.  But I’m not so sure that’s what it was meant to say.  Because, see, that tiny mustard seed does not, no matter how hard it tries, no matter what we do to help it, grow into a majestic redwood.  It grows into a bush (or if it’s REALLY persistent, a sort of bushy, squatty tree), a very ordinary bush with an ordinary harvest that will end up in our spice rack or as a spread on our sandwich.  There’s nothing really surprising about the outcome.  It’s what is supposed to happen.  It’s what God has promised.

So, interestingly enough, Jesus used something incredibly ordinary to illustrate his point.  But even run-of-the-mill ordinary things can be extraordinary.  A couple of months ago, I bought some egg rolls.  But when I got ready to eat them, I realized I had no Chinese mustard.  How can you eat egg rolls without Chinese mustard? (Well, I can’t) So, I thought, well how hard can that be to make?  All it takes is a little dry mustard, a little rice vinegar, and some ice water.  Easy, right?  Well, yes, if you want to create something that will clean out your sinuses for the next decade!  Just for the record, mustard, small though it might be, packs quite a dramatic punch!

So, what, really, is Jesus trying to teach us with this string of parables?  It sort of sounds like the disciples were getting the teacher’s notes and the rest of us were just on our own.  No, I think Jesus just wanted us to look at things differently.  I think Jesus wanted us to have faith in the faith that God had in us.  Faith is a gift.  God supplants the seeds of faith into our lives—ALL of our lives.  And they begin to grow. But, lest we think that faith can be charted into some perfectly-increasing line graph through our life, we need to remember that there is no prescribed pathway for our faith.  “Measuring faith” is not up to us.  God gives us whatever we need.

So, if someone tells you that “you don’t have enough faith” or that “you just need to have more faith”, have faith in the faith that God has in you.  Each of us has been given the faith that we need to be who God calls us to be.  Sometimes it will, indeed, feel like your faith could move mountains.  And sometimes it just doesn’t seem to fit into who you are.  Sometimes it seems empty and elusive.  Sometimes it seems like you’ve lost it.  (St. John of the Cross penned it as the “dark night of the soul” in his well-known 16th century poem) Perhaps those times in your life are times when your faith lays in winter fallow, regenerating, re-seeding, preparing for the new growth to come.  To be honest, if everyone was constantly moving mountains, the world’s topography would be totally confusing.  Sometimes, it takes faith to get out of bed. On those days, that’s enough.  Sometimes the silence of faith is more powerful than the loud, mountain-moving chorus.

The truth is, most of our life is lived between the times of planting and the times of harvest.  Most of our life is spent waiting on fruit, waiting on completion, waiting on something that we might never see in this life (I think Moses could tell us a thing or two about that.  Sometimes the promised land is not ours to enter).  But those fallow times are never wasted.  They, too, are part of the life cycle.  In fact, it is those times of fallow, those times of waiting when our faith is what gets us through.  Have faith in the faith that God has in you.  The harvest is coming.  Maybe you’ll see it; maybe you won’t.  But your faith is part of what brings it into being—no matter how small you think the seed might be.  So, whatever you do, however small it seems, just keep scattering seed and have faith in the faith that God has in you.

Faith isn’t an argument, a catechism, a philosophical proof. It is instead a lens, a way of experiencing life, and a willingness to see. As the Bible says: Taste and see. (Sara Miles)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Creation…again

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Genesis 1

1In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, 2the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.’ 3Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. 4And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.5God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day. 6And God said, “Let there be a dome in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.” 7So God made the dome and separated the waters that were under the dome from the waters that were above the dome. And it was so. 8God called the dome Sky. And there was evening and there was morning, the second day. 9And God said, “Let the waters under the sky be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear.” And it was so. 10God called the dry land Earth, and the waters that were gathered together he called Seas. And God saw that it was good. 11Then God said, “Let the earth put forth vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees of every kind on earth that bear fruit with the seed in it.” And it was so. 12The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good.13And there was evening and there was morning, the third day. 14And God said, “Let there be lights in the dome of the sky to separate the day from the night; and let them be for signs and for seasons and for days and years, 15and let them be lights in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth.” And it was so. 16God made the two great lights—the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night—and the stars. 17God set them in the dome of the sky to give light upon the earth, 18to rule over the day and over the night, and to separate the light from the darkness. And God saw that it was good. 19And there was evening and there was morning, the fourth day. 20And God said, “Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky.” 21So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. 22God blessed them, saying, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth.” 23And there was evening and there was morning, the fifth day. 24And God said, “Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind.” And it was so. 25God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and the cattle of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good. 26Then God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”27So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. 28God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” 29God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. 30And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. 31God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.

So, when I started writing weekly, I told you there might be more when I felt extra spirity. Ok, that happened. This morning, I had the opportunity (I use the term loosely) to leave home before sunrise and drive to a 7:00 breakfast as part of our Annual Conference meeting.

Driving east, I was suddenly struck by the beauty of the pre-dawn sky and felt an overriding sense of God’s Spirit wrapped around Creation, embracing all that is. I realized that listening to “Morning Joe” on Sirius radio did not fit with my accidental devotional so I asked my ever-constant companion Siri to play Carrie Newcomer. Now, as you may have figured out if you followed my Advent devotionals, Carrie Newcomer has LOTS of songs (like 80-ish). So a random selection from Apple’s artificial intelligence could produce any. Imagine my surprise when the AI choice was “Shelter in the Sky”. (Ok, this is really coming together)

As I listened I was reminded of the scripture that invites us into the ordering of Creation, not the Creation itself, but the way God takes the canvas and turns chaos into order, the order that we experience, the order beyond our understanding, the order that continues. And what I realized is that that ordering didn’t just happen once. There was not just seven days or seven billion years in which God ordered Creation but rather God does it everyday—over and over and over again. Creation…again.

At the beginning

When the earth moves to greet the new day and the light begins to come to be

The sky stretches itself across the canvas of creation with colors of pink and coral, yellow and salmon, and beneath it the grey-blue horizon takes the light unto itself.

And in that light, the earth begins to be revealed, the land, the waters, distinct from each other, distinct from the sky.

And in the shadows, in the first light of the morning, trees stand to greet the light, and blooms open to take the light forth.

Then as the earth turns toward the light, the ball of light appears, peeking from behind the horizon.

And all of God’s creatures rise to meet the day, the crawlers, the runners, and humankind.

And as the day begins, creation once again comes to be, filled with the breath and Word of God, recreated, respoken, renewed. And it is very very good, this Creation…again.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Home Repairs

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Scripture Text: Mark 3: 20-35 (Proper 5B)

20and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. 21When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, “He has gone out of his mind.” 22And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, “He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” 23And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan? 24If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. 25And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. 26And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come. 27But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered. 28“Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; 29but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin”— 30for they had said, “He has an unclean spirit.” 31Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. 32A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” 33And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” 34And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! 35Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

Oh, who are we kidding?  Family reunions are hard.  Jesus has returned home.  And the family was not all that supportive of him.  Doesn’t your family reunion include some people that you sometimes wish would just be quiet, maybe not speak their mind so freely, maybe learn to filter what they say? See, Jesus was not echoing the church leaders.  What a troublemaker!  All of the stuff he was saying did not makes sense.  So, they accuse him of being possessed by a demon. (Yes, that’s always very impressive when your family does that!)

So, Jesus, in true Jesus fashion, began teaching in parables.  “Really, people?  I mean, if I were possessed, if I were Satan or a demon or something, then how in the world could I heal people?  How in the world could I speak of this God of grace and forgiveness?  If I WERE evil and I preached AGAINST evil, then it would all fall anyway.  Because any house that is divided will fall.  God is a God of forgiveness.  But we have to listen.  We have to listen to who the Spirit is calling us to be or we cannot be close to God.”

Jesus is not denying our place in the world; Jesus is calling us to realize that the world needs us to move beyond that place.  We are called to embrace our larger family, to open our eyes to their needs, to open our minds to the part of God that they can show us, and to open our lives that they might be a part of us.  That is what it means to have a servant’s heart, what it means to be part of the family of God—not only to give what we have to others, but to share our very lives with them.

So, why are we being warned that our house is going to fall down?  Oh, it’s not talking about our individual house.  It’s also not talking about our house of worship or our denomination.  (Although my own United Methodist Church has spent a little bit of time falling down lately!  We have not been the bastion of unity!)  And it’s also not talking about our country (although we could stand to learn some lessons from it!)  It’s talking about all of us.  It’s talking about the world.  It’s talking about a world that right now is divided.  No, correct that…it’s downright splitting at the seams.  We are all so distracted by our own individual needs.  We spend so much time preserving our own opinions and even wrapping ourselves in our own flag (uh, yeah, you’re not supposed to wrap yourself in the flag!) that we have forgotten who we are.  We have forgotten that we are here for each other.  We have forgotten that we are called to be the hands and feet and mind of Christ in the world.

So, go with me here…imagine us all standing in a circle.  But you know the way we are.  We stand an appropriate distance apart, not wanting to violate acceptable personal space standards and certainly not wanting anyone to violate ours.  And we miss noticing that our neighbor is hurting, that our neighbor is hungry, that our neighbor needs help to ward off an enemy that has attacked them and tried to take their country.  (Sorry, trying not to get political here!)  We want to help but we don’t want to get TOO involved.  And we certainly don’t want it to affect us.  But that’s not the way a house works.  Houses can’t exist with holes in them.  Houses can’t exist with its parts sprawled across “acceptable” space.  So, step in.  Make the circle smaller.  Step in enough that you’re forced to touch each other.  (Yes, it’s uncomfortable!)  You know what would make it more bearable? Embrace each other.  It creates more comfort, more space.  And yet it still holds the house together.  And we start to see each other differently. 

You know, if we could, if the laws of physics permitted, we could step in again.  We could truly become part of each other.  That’s what God intended.  God intended for us to become part of each other and, in that way, as the circle came closer and closer to the center, we would also come closer to God.  We were not created to exist alone, painfully holding the pieces of the house together.  The house is all of us.  And if we hold on, we can repair it.

It doesn’t mean that we will not have disagreements.  I don’t even know if it means that we all like each other.  God made us very different from one another.  Thanks be to God.  Because those differences are what wakes us up to the movement of God’s Spirit in our midst.  But we’re called to respect each other, allow each other the freedom to be who God calls each of us to be, and, more than anything, we’re called to love each other—in our own families, in our church, and as we move, filled with God’s breath and empowered by God’s Spirit, into the world where God already is.

There is a story of a father who was desperately trying to keep his children entertained.  It was a wet Saturday, the children were bored, and they were beginning to get on his nerves.  But then he came up with what he thought was a very inventive (and, hopefully, a time-consuming) activity for them.  He took a magazine and found a map of the world printed on one page.  He tore out the page and proceeded to cut it up with scissors into small pieces.  Then he jumbled up all the pieces and placed them in a pile on the floor, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.  He then gave his two young sons the task of putting the map together again, thinking that it would surely keep them quiet for some time.  Imagine his amazement when, less than five minutes later, they returned with the completed map.  “How,” he asked, “did you manage to put it back together again so quickly?” “Oh, it was easy,” replied on of his sons.  “You told us it was a map of the world, and when we looked at the pieces, at first we didn’t know where to begin to sort it all out.  It seemed impossible.  But then we realized that there was a picture of a person on the other side, so we just put the person back together again.  When we turned it over, the world had come back together again as well.” (From One Hundred Wisdom Stories From Around the World, by Margaret Silf)

You have been telling people that this is the Eleventh Hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour. And there are things to be considered…Where are you living? What are you doing?  What are your relationships?  Are you in right relation?  Where is your water?  Know your garden.  It is time to speak your truth.  Create your community.  Be good to each other.  And do not look outside yourself for your leader…We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.  (Hopi Elders)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli