Practice

The Day We Remember The People Who Are Thrown Away

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The Christ of the Breadlines, Fritz Eichenberg, Woodcut, 1951

For those Christians who worship a Holy God who cannot abide sin and whose righteousness demands punishment, today is a day to remember how God, the Father, inflicted all His anger on His Beloved Son, satisfying once and for all the debt of sin the human race has run up since we limped out of Eden.

I used to believe that myself. And, on a good day, I took comfort in it. I believed that my sins, even mine, were forgiven, and felt some peace, until I screwed up again.

As an old man, I have looked through enough microscopes and telescopes, stood at the foot of enough mountains, walked through enough forests, seen enough waves roll in, and held enough babies in my arms to change my definition of “Holy” from “Absolute Righteousness” to what Rudolf Otto was trying to express when he described the “Holy” as Mysterium et Tremendum:

“Mysterium” is the feeling I had in the mountains, at the seashore, and holding that new grandchild. It can’t be put into words.

“Tremendum” means what the hymn, “Were You There?,” is singing about:

“Sometimes, it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.”

This is what Moses felt when he stood before the burning bush. Isaiah felt this when he saw the Throne of God high and lifted up in the Temple. Mary felt this when the Angel Gabriel asked her to bear God’s Son.

It doesn’t matter whether you believe these stories are literally true or not. What matters is that they represent moments —moments I hope you have had—moments of awe that both humble you and fill your soul with a sense of your worth in the grand scheme of things.

The opposite of this feeling, these days, is consumerism. Consumerism only recognizes the value that can be rung up on a cash register, and throws away the things that no longer have value: toilet paper, laptops, and human beings. We are all immersed in it. Many of us struggle against it, but it can sometimes be overwhelming. The message is that our buying power measures our value. Those with more buying power are far more valuable than those with little or no buying power.

We Americans are currently ruled by two men who had the misfortune of being blessed with success by consumerism . One succeeded at making things that consumers will buy, and the other excels at selling things, even things that don’t exist. Consumerism has stunted our souls, so most of us buy what they sell—or at least don’t object to their pitch.

We are now beginning to see the ultimate evil that consumerism can drive us to — making a virtue of throwing away human beings

It is no accident that those who are now randomly firing “corrupt and lazy” scientists, weather forecasters, and park rangers and are advocating throwing away the elderly, the poor, the disabled, immigrants, and others they have deemed valueless, want us to forget that we did the same to Native Americans and Enslaved People. They don’t want us to see that their disparagement of DEI is a continuation of a pattern of cheating and exploiting women and people of color, while carving out some cushy positions for incompetent white guys.

According to some traditions, the place where Jesus was crucified was on top of Jerusalem’s trash heap. One of the things we remember on Good Friday is, “He took his place with sinners” . . . on the trash heap.

We always label the people we throw away “sinners” AKA criminals (read mentally ill, learning disabled, abused as children), shiftless people who can’t feed their kids even if they work three jobs, the disabled and old people who didn’t amass a fortune to support them and depend on Social Security instead. All of them drain money away from those of us who always want more. I am appalled at how well I understand that reasoning.

This Good Friday, Jesus takes his place with “gang members” (Guys with brown skin, Latino names, and wearing the wrong colored clothes) in a jungle prison in the ironically named country of El Salvador.

The only thing that will save Elon, Donald, MAGA, and me is to recover a belief in human beings as the image of God. To have an experience of the Holy, whether it manifests as a burning bush or a new grandbaby, a Heavenly Throne or a hug when we need it most and expect it least, an angel or an answer to our heart’s oldest question. We need the encounter with the Holy that Thomas Merton felt one day at the corner of Fourth and Walnut in Louisville.

He saw the faces of all the strangers passing him by and realized he loved them.

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. . . . But this cannot be seen, only believed and ‘understood’ by a peculiar gift.

― Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander

The Duty and the Burden of Solemnity

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There is no good verb for what clergy do in a wedding ceremony.


We don’t “marry” the couple. They marry each other.
“Preside” implies that you are in charge of the wedding. I know that some clergy insist upon this role. They lock themselves into a battle of wills with the bride’s mother, the hotel/restaurant events manager, or the bride herself. Worst case scenario, the photographer wants to preside. In 45 years, I can only remember two weddings in which the groom took charge. Not a good sign, either time. On some simple, lovely occasions, I did “preside.” I would count the one couple who asked if they could be married in our living room with Jacquie as their witness as one of those. But presiding at most weddings means you are in charge of the choreography, the placement of the flowers, rolling out the white carpet, training the ushers, making sure the bridesmaids are zipped. That is beyond my competence.

The verb that works best, I think, is “solemnize.”


It’s harder work than you may think to solemnize a wedding. Weddings are, by definition, joyous. They symbolize peace and love and good will. They should be celebrated with good food and drink and music and dancing — and they usually are, after the ceremony. Weddings lead (snicker) to wedding nights and all that implies. It’s tough to be the one who tamps down that hilarity for an hour.


Yet, I always thought it was necessary. It is necessary for the community, represented by family and friends — or the pastor’s wife, to witness the couple making their solemn vows to each other. It is necessary for the couple to feel the enormity of the promises they are making. (Although only the widowed and the more-than-once divorced ever come close to understanding.)

It is necessary to place this very human and natural event into a larger context. The very fact that this couple has come together and chosen each other is a kind of miracle. Their love and faithfulness to each other, especially over the long haul, will be a sign and symbol of the Love that is at the heart of the universe.
That demands solemnity. It requires seriousness.


But, it can take a toll on the person who has to do the solemnizing.


Do you remember, when you were a little kid and made a face, your mother would tell you to be careful because your face might get stuck in that position?


She was right.


It has taken almost five years for my face to come unstuck. Like a lot of things in this Third Half of Life, I am reassessing what used to seem so important. I am not knocking ritual and tradition. I am not minimizing the enormity of the wedding vows. I am reassessing how and why it seemed so necessary for me to be so serious so often. Maybe it was necessary. Carl Jung believed that the clergy carry a necessary psychic burden within the community that no one else carries. He often treated clergy for free.


But I wonder if it would have helped if I had trusted Life provide the solemnity? After all, every couple faces days ahead where the vows they make on their wedding day will take on real seriousness. They will need to choose to love each other for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. Why not let them have one happy, light-hearted day to love each other and laugh with their friends and bask in their families’ pride?


Days like that are few and short. Why rob them of even one hour?


I have seen clergy, not in my tradition, I’m afraid, who seem to know how to put the joy and the seriousness together. I’m formulating a theory about why that is not common in mainline Protestant churches, but it’s not completely clear, yet.


All I know is that, as a Christian, I’m supposed to look to Jesus as my example. I see him at only one wedding. And for that, he brought the wine.

Guest Blog: Everything I Needed to Know for the Pandemic I Learned in Kindergarten — Creativity

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As I ask friends how they are getting through this strange time, a lot of them talk about going back to things we did in Kindergarten: drawing, painting, making things out of clay or wood — the stuff we often call “art.” (Soon, I’ll share something for those of you who, like me, don’t turn to these practices.)

Recently the Rev. Nancy Talbott wrote a letter to her congregation about how to take these practices deeper.

Nancy is pastor of The Congregational Church of North Barnstead in New Hampshire. She is also my sister. (Yes, it’s probably genetic.) Nancy not only writes, she makes music, draws, bakes, and builds congregations. She and her husband, Steve, have put two families together to create an amazing three-generational tribe. 

Nancy gave me permission to republish her letter here: 

Dear Friends,
The other day I was in a conversation with friends about how they are using their time during this Covid-19 summer.

One shared she was crafting and the other shared they have been doodling and coloring as a way to relieve stress and anxiety.

The coloring craze has been around for a number years now, and we can find adult coloring books everywhere, however, this conversation reminded me of a prayer practice I took on a number of years ago, after reading a book called, Praying in Color: Drawing a New Pathway to God, by Sybill Macbeth.


This practice is meditative, creative, and opens our communication with God. You can practice this anytime, however, it is an intentional practice, so turn off the 24-hour news cycle and find a comfortable, quiet place, a cup of tea or coffee, and begin!


All you need is a pencil or pen, and piece of paper. You can get fancy and pick up some colored pencils and a special pad of paper or a journal, however, the point is not to do too much planning…just begin.

Start with a name of someone you want to include in prayer, or maybe your own name. Draw a shape in the middle of the page, and write the name inside it, then draw another shape, and connect the two with a line. Or place God, Jesus, or Christ in the center and expand out with names or feelings, from there. There are no rules, the point is to relax with yourself and God for whatever time you want to spend.


You can also do this with a short piece of scripture as a Lectio Divina meditation. Here is a link for instructions on how to do this: Praying Scripture – click here


I have included some images at the end of this reflection for ideas. I have also included a link where you can find templates to print, however, I think the circles and curly-q’s you draw yourself will be better than any template.


This Covid-19 world is stressful and brings on so much fear and worry about things we cannot control. Praying in color, or just in black and white, can activate our right brains where compassion and creativity wait for us to participate, relax and grow.


When our hearts and minds are praying about ourselves and others, the perfect love of God enters our space and casts out our anxiety and our fear.
See you in worship!

Your pastor,
Rev. Nancy
Praying in color templates click here