dream

My most accessible happy place...
I have lots of dreams. Sometimes they are memorable, other times not. Sometimes they are anxiety dreams, sometimes they are interesting, sometimes they are super obvious (thanks for a not-subtle subconscious!), sometimes they are multi-sensory, sometimes they wake me up. Other times they last only until I open my eyes and then they're gone, winging their way to the ether of my brain.

I also dream on this pillow while I'm awake but refusing to leave the comfort of the bed. I dream of what the world could be like. I dream of the future of the church. I dream of having cats that don't tell me they want fresh food by licking my forehead.

(day 30 of lent photo a day!)

rise

When they're ready, they rise to the top.

YUM.

I really love food. Good food is a joy and wonder in life. Of course, I'm also aware that I've gained weight during my stressful last few years, and I'd like to reverse that situation, so I'm paying attention to what I eat a little more than I have recently. I still eat what I like, and I still cook what I want, so I'm both watching how much I eat and being more intentional about skipping that stuff that's not that good anyway, it just fills you up in the right moment (aka, fast food--which I'm not eating for Lent anyway!).  May the good stuff rise to the top and the not-worth-it-stuff fall away.

portobello ravioli...yum.

day 29 of Lent photo a day (the count doesn't include Sundays!)

new

last week I got a box from dad, and it has all kinds of new-to-me cookbooks from mom. I'm not really a baker, but who knows, I might just try something new. (and if not, I might be willing to turn them into new-to-YOU cookbooks!)

New recipes, new life for books off the shelf, new pictures to look at (and these are some gorgeous cookbooks, let me tell you!), new opportunities to try things out...

Fifth Sunday in Lent photo-a-day (when the lectionary text was "behold, I am doing a new thing--now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?" perhaps a sign related to dough rising and becoming springy.)

Godvision--a sermon for Lent 5C

Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
Godvision
Isaiah 43.16-21, John 12.1-8
17 March 2013, Lent 5C

Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.
…
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
~~~~~~~

Has anyone here ever used the phrase “no pain, no gain”? It’s not one of my favorites, but it sort of sums up why we needed last week’s practice—to look honestly at how we spend our time, energy, and money, and ask whether that spending reflects the gospel and our calling as followers of Jesus. It’s all part of digging around the roots and making room for fertilizer to reach in. What was that experience like?

Last week the prophet Isaiah asked us “why do you spend your money for that which is not bread?” and called us to listen, that we may live. Part of that assessment is about clearing out the things that keep God’s love from entering our root system and bearing fruit on our tree of life. So now that we’ve made that assessment, the prophet calls us to leave the old behind and prepare for the new. In fact, he says, even now this new thing is happening. Even now—at this very moment, God is doing a new thing, right here in our midst and in the world around us.

Do we perceive it?

Perception is a funny thing. What we see, and how we interpret what we see, makes a huge difference in how we respond. For instance, at my very first horseback riding lesson, another person came in just to pet his horse. He stood cheek to cheek with the horse, cooing, and he called it his therapy. Meanwhile, I was standing five feet away from the horse I was supposed to be brushing, crying in fear. He saw happiness, I saw 1600 pounds of danger. That difference in perception changed how we acted toward the same animal.

There is a little three-leafed plant that covers the ground and is a nuisance in our beautiful grass lawns. But in that same little nuisance, St. Patrick saw the presence of God—the Trinity laid out for all to see, covering the ground with reminders of who God is.

One of my friends was out hiking one day and saw a bear in the distance. He froze, trying to decide whether to keep going or wait. After a few minutes he decided he had to keep walking or else stay on the trail forever, and soon discovered that the bear was actually an enormous rock. His perception was a little off, and he had to make a choice about how to respond.

I suspect many of us have had these experiences, seeing a shadow and interpreting it to be something much scarier than it really is. We know this is a common problem when it comes to seeing people—when we see people who look different from us, for example people of different skin colors or different body types or different fashion senses, we make assumptions about them. We may lock our doors as we drive through their neighborhoods, or assume they’re armed even if we have no evidence, or believe we know their morals or their sexuality or their line of work based only on what they wear and how they carry themselves. We live in a world where teenage boys with dark skin have to be taught never to run outdoors and teenage girls believe their self-worth comes from the size of their body.

Perception matters. Sometimes it life-or-death matters.

We have probably all also had the experience of change to familiar routines or spaces—when road construction forces a detour from our regular commute, or the preacher stands in a different place, or our favorite restaurant changes the menu. When change comes, what do we see? Do we see opportunity to experience a wider taste of life, to expand our worldview, to explore? Or do we clam up with fear and frustration? Maybe somewhere in between, depending on the situation! Perception matters.

What do we see, and how do we interpret? God promises some very unlikely things—that there will be water in the desert, a road in the wilderness; that wild animals that normally eat each other will live together; that people who might cause us to lock our doors will be the very neighbors we are called to love. Even now, God is doing a new thing—do we perceive it?

Mary does.

In two stories, in two separate gospels, Mary is the sister who sees. She sees Jesus for who he is—God, right there in the room with her. She doesn’t see just another wandering rabbi, or an eligible bachelor, or just another man demanding dinner. She sees God incarnate, love personified. In both stories, she responds to her perception in ways that upset other people. In Luke’s story, Mary sits at the feet of Jesus and listens with all her being, which Martha can’t handle. And in today’s story from John, Mary again sits at the feet of Jesus, this time with the most valuable thing she has to offer. She pours her wealth out at Jesus’ feet, and Judas can’t handle it.

300 denarii was nearly a year’s wages. Imagine pouring out your salary for the year at the feet of Jesus.

Or are we more likely to be Judas in this situation, criticizing Mary’s extravagant generosity?

Isaiah says that we are “created for God’s praise.” In other words, when we perceive what God is doing, we are to respond with generous praise. Mary does exactly that.

Some in the gospel story respond to Jesus with disdain, others with fear, still others by asserting their own power or authority. Surely this is not what God meant by a new thing? There must be some mistake—we wanted to control it, we wanted it to be our way, we wanted to understand, we wanted God to act on our terms and our time.

Some in the story respond by following. Some respond by giving everything they have. Immanuel—God is with us! We wanted to know God’s presence—here he is. We wanted to see God face to face—here he is. We wanted to hear God’s word—here he is. We listen, we see, we turn and re-turn, and find ourselves with Godvision—with the lenses to see what God sees: a kingdom with so much potential, if only we will open our eyes.

When we perceive God’s new thing, and respond to it with praise and generosity, some will scoff. Prayer and worship and offerings and service rarely produce tangible things after all—so they’re not valued in our culture or economy, though they are the main currency of God’s economy. Some will ask why on earth we would do such a thing. Love, in our culture, is for those who deserve and earn it, not for sharing with everyone. People will wonder if we’ve gone out of our minds or if we’re being wasteful. But King David said it well: “I will not offer to God offerings that cost me nothing.” We cannot help but be generous when we encounter God among us. We cannot help but respond in praise when we see the amazing things God has in store. Every day, God is doing a new thing: in the creation, in our lives, in the life of the church. It springs forth, not just easing its way into our lives but bursting in full of color. Do we perceive it?

One way to enhance our perception is to change our perspective. If we always look at things in the same way, from the same angle, it can be hard to see God’s new thing. When we look from a new angle—from a different pew, for instance, or from the floor at Jesus’ feet rather than the kitchen door, we might find our sight and hearing improves. When we consciously try to approach things or people with a different attitude than usual, we might find our judgments are slower and our empathy grows. How might we change our perspective and see what new thing God is doing right now?

Well, there’s always the option of literally changing your perspective by trying out a different pew. Maybe next week you can choose to sit somewhere different and see how things look and sound and feel from a new place. There’s also the option of choosing to see through a particular lens—honing our Godvision. So for this week’s challenge, I suggest that we all try to look at the world through the lens of gratitude. Each day, make a list of 5-10 things that you are grateful for. Different things each day—no fair just copying the list! Post your gratitude list on the fridge, or the bathroom mirror, or on the steering wheel or the edge of the computer screen. Practice your gratitude lenses throughout the week, and find out if that helps you be more aware of what God is doing in your life. Feel free to share with us on Facebook the things you are grateful for—it helps us all to give thanks together!

And then, because both Isaiah and Mary show us that this is a two-part way of life, this week’s practice will also be two parts. During the week, be praying about how God is calling you to respond to this new enhanced Godvision. Perceiving God’s new thing is amazing and wonderful and important—and should lead to action. How will you embody praise and generosity in response to God’s amazing grace? Think of something concrete that you can put into practice during the Easter season. If you want some accountability, there’s a whole body of Christ here ready to help uphold, encourage, and challenge you to be faithful.

Behold: God is doing a new thing, pouring God’s own self out for us…and asks us to see and hear and partner in making the kingdom a reality. Even now it springs forth: the desert is fed by streams of water, the creation lives together in harmony, and we love our neighbors as we love ourselves—for God is in our midst. Do we perceive?

May it be so. Amen.

surround

St. Patrick's Day is a big deal in Chicagoland. A BIG deal. Basically because it's an excuse to drink a lot, starting very early in the morning. People flood downtown for the parade, to see the river dyed bright green, and to drink at every pseudo-Irish pub in the city. And the suburbs. I wish I'd gotten a picture of the mob trying to get on the train at every stop.

I hopped down to Palatine and joined some PCOP members for the parade and lunch. During lunch, the room was surrounded by a bagpipe band. That's right, a whole band of pipers and a few drummers proceeded to play several pieces in this little room while we snacked on such Irish classics as fried cheese curds and french fries.

obviously, we were sitting on the perimeter of the room, so could see only half the band's faces and the backs of the other half.

Day 28 of lent photo-a-day.

Friday Five: tech!

Over at RGBP Jan is having an old-school experience, with no internet!! How do we survive? (lol)

In anticipation of the withdrawal, she left us with some questions about our own dependence on technology...

1. What types of technologies, like cell phones, computers, tvs, etc., do you routinely use? How frequently? 
Let's see...I use my phone and laptop a LOT. Like most of the day. I also have a kindle, which gets used pretty darn frequently! And while I own a tv, it doesn't get any channels--it's purpose is for DVDs and Wii, both of which get used less than I might like.

 2. What social media and/or games do you like to play? How often? On which device do you occupy yourself? Which method of social media do you prefer?
Facebook is my big time-suck, for sure. I also tweet, and read blogs. I like to play Words With Friends, but sometimes I get busy and forget to check it, which leads to losing games via forfeiting, because after a few days the game quits for you. :-(
I spend most of my time with my MacBook Pro, but also use my phone for quite a few things now that I have a smart one.

 3. Do you separate online activities between home and work? Or is it all the same everywhere?
The only thing I really keep at work is my work email--I often shut my email program down on my days off, and I don't have work email on my phone. Everything else is everywhere.

 4. Do you have a smart (or I-) phone? 
I resisted for a long time, because the cost was too high--both the bills AND the cost of being constantly connected. I got an iPhone as a Christmas gift, and the monthly bill is actually just a few dollars more than what I was paying before...though the cost of being constantly connected still remains to be calculated. I will say that there are several things that are a ton better with a smartphone, and I'm enjoying it.

 5. What do you wish you had--or do not have--in relation to these devices?
hmmm....I wish I had more self control about facebook. There's so much interesting stuff going on, so many links to click and articles to read and photos to enjoy and people to catch up with etc etc etc that it feeds my voracious brain...but that all takes time that I could also be doing something else.

 Bonus: What is the difference between your attitude towards these means of technology and a generation older or younger than you?
I suspect my attitude toward technology is right in line with my generation, by which I mean that I'm comfortable using it and I understand the benefits of using it in a variety of ways that drive older people nuts, but I also see the value of turning it all off and reading a book or going for a walk without my phone and that makes younger people squirm. :-)

Go

These are what I like to see.

Now that I'm a commuter, I spend a lot more time contemplating traffic lights than I used to. Sometimes they seem to be plotting against me, other times they're just a part of the scenery as I pass by. I know why they're important, but there's just something about that little green circle that makes me so much happier than a red one. ;-)

I also like to see metaphorical green lights--to try new things, think outside the box, meet new people, follow a rabbit trail, and imagine what might be. Go!

day 26 of Lent photo a day

water

I have been working hard on giving up pop. There have been periods of my life marked by serious Dr. Pepper addiction...and I'm trying not to drink it anymore. Or at least not too much. The other day I did give in and run through the drive thru for a fountain DP. But water is so much better for you.
So, to compensate for the loss of that fizzy feeling, this is what I drink (in addition to a large amount regular water, of course) :

day 25 of lent photo a day

silence

an evening of centering prayer in the sanctuary...looking toward the cross as it becomes the tree of life.

day 24 of lent photo a day

ate, happy

I took a picture yesterday, but it wasn't what I really wanted...because I was too tired to spend the time making dinner last night. DST kicked my behind. So today you get a photo that illustrates both yesterday's and today's words. I ate this, and it is a happy thing.

this vegan tater tot casserole is nearly 500 calories per serving, but every one of them is worth it. So much delicious.

it does have actual vegetables in it--I used some I froze last year: broccoli, peppers, onions, etc--and a homemade potato corn chowder as the base. Just add meatless ground and tater tots, bake and...voila. yum.

(confession: I ate more after taking this picture.)

4th Sunday and Day 23 of the Lent photo-a-day challenge, all in one photo...

Aisle 40--a sermon for the middle of Lent (text 3C)

Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
Aisle 40
Isaiah 55.1-9, Luke 13.6-9
10 March 2013, Lent 4C (texts Lent 3C)

Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live. I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. See, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. See, you shall call nations that you do not know, and nations that do not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.
Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake their way, and the unrighteous their thoughts; let them return to the Lord, that he may have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

… 
Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”

In this parable of Jesus we have the image that is the inspiration for our Lent—a tree whose roots need care so that it can grow into its purpose: bearing fruit. We’ve spent the season nurturing our roots and exploring different ways of being rooted in God’s love. We’ve gotten ourselves rooted in God’s word and God’s promise, and we’ve practiced the rituals that help us draw closer to God. Last week our challenge was to pray the Lord’s Prayer at each meal—did anyone try that out? What was that experience like?

I confess that sometimes I found it awkward. It’s a much longer prayer than most of my meals see. And connecting “give us this day our daily bread” to whatever meal was about to eat was a constant reminder that not everyone has access even to bread or clean water, let alone to the delicious meal sitting in front of me. My daily bread is an abundance others can’t even imagine.

And yet Isaiah paints us a picture of a God who promises abundance beyond all our imagining—the richest of feasts, without paying for it. A lifetime and then some in God’s care, without earning a moment of it. A relationship with a God whose thoughts so outpace my own lofty goals that I can’t even fathom how God works. Which is obvious, because I can’t fathom a free feast like this lasting for long!

We live in a world of incredible abundance. We have stores packed to the gills with things we don’t need but still want, foods to tempt every palate, and homes designed for comfort and retreat. And yet…still we want and seek more. And maybe we wonder if this is the Abundant Life Jesus promised…or if the abundance we find in Aisle 40 might actually be masking our poverty of spirit. Are we the ones the prophet calls out for spending our money and labor for things that do not satisfy?

It’s a hard question to think about, but it needs to be asked. Do we spend ourselves and our resources for things that do not feed our relationships with God, for things that do not advance God’s kingdom? Do we put our attention everywhere except for the part of our lives that could help us bear fruit? Could it be that when God says “my thoughts are higher than your thoughts” God is referencing our tendency to accumulate stuff and satisfy our immediate desires rather than looking toward the bigger picture and what is really needful?

We all know that when we see an iceberg, we see only about 10% of it. 90% of the iceberg is below the surface. While the above-to-below ground ratio is a little different for a tree, the ratio still holds when it comes to nurturing the tree. You’ll notice that in Jesus’ parable the gardener doesn’t say “let me pet the branches and spray the leaves”—he needs to dig around the roots and put fertilizer on the ground. He needs to nurture the part of the tree we can’t see, because that’s where the tree gets its food and its strength. Nurturing those roots may mean exposing them a little bit. It may mean dealing with manure, which is smelly and difficult work, gross to think about, but is the best food in the long run. If the roots aren’t strong and healthy, and if they don’t have anything good to eat, they can’t pass the nutrients and water to the rest of the tree and the tree can’t become what it’s made to be: fruit bearing.

I’m reminded of a science experiment I did in fifth grade. I carefully painted two pots, filled them with soil, and planted bulbs. Just as the shoots began to appear, I started watering one of them with one of my favorite things as a kid: red kool-aid. The other one I watered normally. To my surprise, the kool-aid plant stopped growing and was just a withered shoot until the end of the experiment. Fed only with sugar and red number 40, it never grew into the flower it was meant to become. The other grew up and was a beautiful pot of flowers that brought color to our classroom for weeks.

We talked about this fig tree parable in the session meeting last week, and our most persistent question was some variation on “why hadn’t the gardener paid attention to the tree before now?” We had a lot of potential answers to that question, but the reality boils down to just one thing: he didn’t, and the owner noticed. The tree, designed to be part of God’s abundant promise, was maybe fed by the wrong thing, or left to do its own thing because it looked fine…but either way, it was neglected.

Which leads me straight to a hard question: what are we neglecting? Or what roots are being fed with empty calories rather than God’s good, but harder, way?

Has worry, or insistence on getting our way, or focus on one thing, blinded us to God’s abundance? Have our roots been fed by self-reliance rather than by God’s love and grace? What is it, in our own lives or in our church, that needs some TLC in order to bear fruit?

Because one thing we know for sure is that Love is who God is and what God does. Abundantly, beyond our imaginations! If something needs loving care, we know where to put our roots. Isaiah tells us that all we need to do is incline our ears—to seek God and listen. Put our roots out into God’s living water of grace and soak it up. Give our fig tree’s roots some attention and find not just leaves, but fruit that nourishes and sustains and brings hope.

This is hard to do in our over-filled world. We have so much that it can be difficult to look past our material privilege to recognize our gospel poverty. But the prophet’s question, and the vineyard owner’s question, ring in our ears: Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread? Why does this tree not produce fruit?

So this week we have a hard challenge. Sometime during this week, make an honest inventory of the ways you spend your resources—your time, your energy, your money. It doesn’t sound fun, but in order to tend our roots we have to know what else is taking our attention. When you have a list, spend some time talking to God about it. Does the list of the ways you spend yourself reflect God’s promise and God’s call? Does the 10% of your life that we can see reflect roots in grace and love or in something else? How can you better nurture your roots in order to grow in faith?

I know this sounds presumptuous and awful and depressing and any number of other negative words. I also know that just as writing down the foods we eat can help us be healthier, looking honestly at how we spend our resources can help us see how to move toward who God calls us to be. If we don’t know where we are, we can’t move forward. If we never notice the lack of fruit, we can’t put our attention toward fertilizing the tree. If we insist on our thoughts and ways, we will always be blind to God’s thoughts and ways—which are so much grander, so much fuller, so much bigger, so much more hopeful and more beautiful and more loving…why would we not want that? Don’t settle for roots in shallow empty calorie soil when God has a dark rich nutritious feast just waiting for us to seek it out. Let’s put down roots in God’s abundance, in order to live out love.

May it be so. Amen.

Faithful

My cute honda civic has been a faithful first car, companion on many-a-trip, and has seen more meals, phone calls, ugly cries, loud laughs, vocal warm-ups, loud sing-alongs, and who knows what else than pretty much anything or anyone else in my life. A great 6-1/2 years so far: may there be many more.

day 22 of lent photo a day.

find

I was making soup tonight, and I couldn't find any rosemary. Now, the recipe didn't exactly call for rosemary, but when has a recipe ever constrained me?

As you can see, things are pretty easy to find in my spice cabinet. they're in alphabetical order, for goodness' sake. But I couldn't find rosemary anywhere.

Which could mean only one thing: I must have run out. How this is possible, I don't know. I stay pretty on top of the herb situation.

So of course I posted on facebook "how is it possible that I have run out of rosemary?"

a few minutes later I went back and this is what I found (the top window the part of the conversation that didn't fit on the screen) :

My friends are awesome. I may not find rosemary, but I did find a laugh.

Day 21 of Lent photo a day (apparently today was 2-photos-a-day!)

"no"...
...is what you should say to yourself when the question is "should I, wearing dark clothes, ride a bike with no lights or reflective stickers at night?"

Because the answer to the question "do you see the cyclist in this situation?" will almost always be "no" until really close to too late:

Seriously: just say no to riding unmarked bikes at night while wearing dark clothes.

Bonus: he wasn't wearing a helmet either.

no. just...no.

Day 20 of Lent photo a day: halfway there!

shadow

okay, for the first (hopefully only) time this Lent, I'm going to use a photo I took at another time, rather than one I took today. My day was full of shadows, but none photographable. The shadows cast by candles in a sanctuary, by people walking a labyrinth, by bad behavior (whose shadows are always longer than good behavior--what is that about?), by doubt and by hope.

But today's photo is a reminder that though I may live in a frozen tundra, under feet and feet of snow, it's not so everywhere and won't always be so here...

Day 19 of Lent photo a day

night

every night of winter, this:

The heated mattress pad pre-heats my bed, so when I'm ready to climb in and snuggle up, it's all warm. Usually I turn it down to low when I get in, but for now it's heating up. Makes every night awesome.

And yes, I'm now one of those people for whom the excitement of "night" involves "going to bed." Because my bed is super comfy, and even more so when it's pre-heated, and because sleeping is amazing. I wish I could do more of it.

Day 18 of Lent photo-a-day.

bless

I've been burning the candle at both ends for a couple of weeks, and am beginning to feel it. I've been all sneezy the last couple of days, and have heard a lot of "bless you"s...and when I stopped to buy kleenex today I discovered that Trader Joe's has little inspirations on their tissue boxes. Since I live alone (well, with that cat you see in the background!), it's nice to have someonething say it. ;-)

That journal you see is where I've been writing prayers using the prompts that come each day from Rachel Hackenberg--that's certainly been a blessing during this Lent. And, really, if we're honest, the kitties (even the fluff monster who photo-bombed this pic!) are my daily blessing. They snuggle and purr and talk in their little meowy voices, and make my house a home.

Day 17 (not including Sundays!) in Lent photo a day

Why do we do that? a sermon for the middle of Lent (texts: Lent 4C)

Rev. Teri Peterson
PCOP
Why Do We Do That?
Joshua 5.8-12, Luke 15.1-3, 11b-32
3 March 2013, Lent 3C (4C text)


When the circumcising of all the nation was done, they remained in their places in the camp until they were healed. The Lord said to Joshua, ‘Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt.’ And so that place is called Gilgal to this day.
While the Israelites were encamped in Gilgal they kept the passover in the evening on the fourteenth day of the month in the plains of Jericho. On the day after the passover, on that very day, they ate the produce of the land, unleavened cakes and parched grain. The manna ceased on the day they ate the produce of the land, and the Israelites no longer had manna; they ate the crops of the land of Canaan that year.

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ So he told them this parable: ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.
‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’



Here we are, at the midpoint of Lent. Last week we talked about looking for signs of God’s promise and God’s faithfulness, and on Wednesday we practiced looking at our doubts and challenges through the lens of God’s promise. Where did you see God’s faithfulness?
What was it like for you to be on the look-out for God’s promise this week?
How did you share that vision with others?

Keep your eyes peeled this week for the movement of the Spirit, and when you see, don’t just keep quiet, but share the good news! Keep putting photos and stories on our Facebook page, and sharing your joys and concerns so we can all be praying for new eyes to see God’s love every day.

One of the ways we learn to look is by practicing here at church. Communion and other rituals like it help us grow into the people of God, and they are important! I am often asked “why do we do that?” when it comes to various aspects of worship or of church life. Why are we still doing things that make no sense in a scientific world, or a digital world, or an individualistic world, or a capitalist world? Why do we do things that are hard for outsiders to understand? Why do we insist that some things deserve to be done over and over, though we live in a culture that values novelty?

The word “ritual” often gets a bad rap in our culture—it comes with a lot of baggage. But “ritual” doesn’t mean “rote and meaningless”—it means an action that is heavy with meaning, with symbols that point us to greater things, the way the table points us toward every table. We repeat these rituals because they help us make meaning in our lives, connecting the dots and reminding us who we are. We eat turkey and name our gratitude every November, and watch fireworks every July, because it connects us to our story as immigrants who make something of ourselves in the New World, with all its promise. We put up a tree and hang stockings because it connects us to stories of our childhood and to the practice of generosity that lives even in the darkest days. We put on green clothes and claim to be Irish not just for an excuse to party but also to connect us to a larger story that we desperately want to be a part of. To outsiders, these things are ridiculous, but for us they tell us who we are and what kind of community we should be.

In today’s reading from Joshua, we hear about two important rituals that the people of Israel had not observed between leaving Egypt and entering the Promised Land. During those 40 years of wandering, they were learning to depend on God, learning who God is and who they are, finding their path into a new way of being. And now we find them, on the threshold of the land God promised many generations before, and the first thing they do is call up the two signs of God’s covenant with them: circumcision, marking them physically as God’s people, and the Passover, reminding them of God’s action in their lives. None of these people had come out of Egypt themselves—they had all been born in the wilderness. And yet they told the story of God’s power and might, of slavery and plagues and near-drowning, eating unleavened bread salted with tears. This ritual meal connected them to their roots—to their identity as the people God has redeemed, and to God’s identity as one who saves.

It’s possible that some of these people, two generations removed from the original event, thought this was bizarre and meaningless. Or that they felt unworthy of being part of God’s story. But probably not, because they saw themselves as part of a body, a community knit together by God’s promise, not as individuals who looked for God in their free time. We don’t hear about anyone staying away or not participating. They come together as a people to hear and enact who they are and who God is—and then they take their first steps into the promised land and find it is abundant and fertile and wonderful. And all of this is provided by God…they do not get it for themselves. In fact, if it had been up to them, they’d be back in Egypt making bricks without straw. But they remember now—and this is why the rituals were important. Just like the Deuteronomy reading we heard two weeks ago, this is about remembering that God is faithful, and calls us to faithfulness. The traditional ritual brought them back to themselves.

It’s much the same for the younger brother in Jesus’ story. He chooses to leave behind all that nonsense and go find his own way. Basically, he decides to be spiritual but not religious, to try to strike out on his own because he doesn’t need the community in order to live his life his way. But when it all goes wrong, the story tells us that “he came to himself” and then headed back for the community, with all its rituals and traditions and boundaries. He remembered who he was, and walked that long road home—only to discover that he would now be the beneficiary of one of those rituals that had seemed so stifling before.

While he was gone, and while the older brother is sulking outside, the family is broken—it’s missing a piece. Even as the celebration is happening, there’s still healing that needs to take place. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 12 that if one member of the body suffers, all suffer together with it. If one member of our body is standing outside the door, angry and unwilling to come to the table, or if one member of our body is sitting in the pew, believing their voice isn’t pretty enough, we all suffer together. Withholding ourselves from these rituals of our tradition hurts both us as individuals and the body as a whole—we cannot practice hospitality or compassion or radical acceptance or forgiveness or sharing if we are not all here. Even if we do not understand what is happening, or even if we have doubts about how it all works, it’s important to be there, to at least allow the possibility of an experience of Grace. One of the beauties of these rituals is that sometimes they are so laden with meaning we can hardly stand it, and other times we may feel nothing…but no matter where we are on that spectrum today, we know that God is present and working in us and our community through these moments, making and re-making us into God’s people.

So what are some of these rituals that are so important, that help our roots grow and reach into God’s love? The most obvious is communion, of course—the meal that grows out of the Passover and the feast that welcomes home the prodigal. If you’d like to learn more about Passover, the First Presbyterian Church in Arlington Heights is hosting a Seder Dinner in a few weeks—check the bulletin for more info about how you can go and learn about this important tradition. Some other things that guide our roots to God’s living water include things like saying the Lord’s Prayer each week, sharing the peace of Christ with one another, and even singing. There aren’t many places in our culture where we can get together and sing anymore—the church is the keeper of an important tradition. When we sing, our whole bodies get in on the act of prayer and proclamation. The church has been singing since the very beginning. Of course, what we were singing was usually the psalms. This Lent we’ve been singing a psalm each week—reaching back to fine Presbyterian tradition. It used to be that we only sang psalms! While our repertoire is broader now, it’s still important to reach for the very first hymnal every now and then, joining our voices with centuries of faithful people around the world who have been singing the psalms together.

I’m sure you can think of many rituals that happen in church—everything from passing an offering plate to ensure we all have the opportunity to answer God’s call to generosity, to baptizing babies, to breaking bread together. On Wednesday we’ll be exploring some of them more deeply, so join us at 6:30! Every time we participate in these actions, we put our whole body to our faith. Faith isn’t only about what we think, or what we feel, it’s also about what we do. These roots run through hundreds or even thousands of years of faithfulness, connecting us to the great cloud of witnesses and reminding us, just as the Israelites were reminded on the verge of the promised land, and just as the brothers were reminded by their father, that we are God’s people. We have been chosen, and called, and equipped: with a way to practice God’s story in this room so we can live it outside this room.

So this week’s challenge is an easy one, relatively speaking. Take the ritual out of the sanctuary for a week. Whenever you have a meal, say the Lord’s Prayer. Not a quick and easy grace, but the whole Lord’s Prayer, every meal. See what happens when it’s connected to your daily bread. See how it feels to have Jesus’ words on your tongue several times a day. Notice your awareness of God’s presence when you are living with the words of the prayer beyond Sunday morning. Every meal, the Lord’s Prayer. Let’s see what happens if we move this ritual designed to remind us who we are as the people of God beyond the walls of the church building.

And when we’re in here, let’s practice God’s call through singing with gusto and praying fervently and washing and forgiving and hearing and eating. May those practices shape our lives. Amen.

Thirst

Some of the tools for quenching my thirst...

Though interesting that this is the prompt for a communion Sunday, when we remember Jesus' promise "Come to me and never be thirsty." So often we rely on these other tools, forgetting that we thirst not only for water but also for living water.

Third Sunday in Lent photo a day

Leave

What does the church need to do more often?
Leave.
We need to take our faith outside the doors, because too often we make a joyful noise in the sanctuary and stay silent the rest of the week.
Leave the building, and know that you don't go out alone. Nor do you leave Jesus in the sanctuary or the pastor's office--he's already out there waiting for you to come on out.

Day 16 of Lent photo a day