Therefore let us keep the feast!

The first time I attended an Episcopal celebration of the mass, also known as Divine Worship, the Sunday Service and Holy Communion, I remember being struck by the words we say when the bread and wine have been consecrated by the priest, right after we pray the Lord’s Prayer. The priest holds up the large host, breaks it and states, “Alleluia! Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.” The people respond, “Therefore let us keep the feast – Alleluia!”

The expression, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us; therefore, let us keep the feast” stems from a passage of Scripture that may well be an ancient Easter homily. In the First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul writes, “Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough, inasmuch as you are unleavened. For our paschal lamb, Christ, has been sacrificed for us. Therefore let us celebrate the feast, not with the old yeast, the yeast of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.” (1 Corinthians 5:7-8).

In First Century Palestine, and still today among some believers, Jewish people undergo a ritual cleaning of the home, removing any and all traces leavened bread or food containing yeast. This is to purify the home, be done with the old and welcome the new, so that at Passover time, the first meal eaten is of the new unleavened bread and the paschal lamb, symbolizing a new beginning and rededication to follow the covenant and the Torah (law).

St. Paul, a Pharisee by training, would have been intimately aware of this tradition and its meaning. When he urges the Corinthian community to “clear out the old yeast” and become a “fresh batch of dough”, he is urging them, in Christ, to let go of their old lives and to take on their new life and identity in the Lord. By calling Christ “our Paschal lamb” he is reminding the Corinthians that through his cross and resurrection, Jesus has set us free and given us new life. By urging them to “keep the feast” with the new “unleavened bread of sincerity and truth”, Paul is reminding the faithful that partaking in Holy Communion means that we are called to, in essence, become what we eat and therefore be ourselves transformed into the image of Christ.

So, the next time the priest invites us to Holy Communion by saying, “Alleluia! Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us!” and you respond, “Therefore let us keep the feast, Alleluia!”, keep in mind that part of what we are saying is, “Lord, help us let go of what has been and be transformed and made anew in your image.”

On pulling the covers over our heads

Last Friday our soon-to-be-daughter-but-in-all-reality-our-daughter-already had no school. She is in K5 and was pretty fired up at the prospect of not having to get up early and go through the usual morning routine. She enjoyed a bit of snuggle time, some prolonged lounging in her pj’s and had a leisurely breakfast while reviewing the morning paper with her parents. Little did she know that we had a surprise lined up for the afternoon.

This past December, when Santa Claus, who has a striking resemblance on the phone to Gina’s Dad, called her and asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she said, “Anything you want to bring me will be nice…and I’d also like a horse.”

Kind and generous-hearted people Sandie and Bob offered to give our little one a chance to meet a real horse -up close and personal. We have learned that with her, it’s best to give such information rather close to the event, so during lunch we discussed what we were doing to do with the rest of our day off. Then we told her. She would soon be meeting, face to face, Rosie, a gentle and well-mannnered horse. He (yes, Rosie is a he) was looking forward to meeting her, we told her, and so as soon as we finished lunch… she ran to her room and hid under the covers.

Daughter: “I’m not going. I don’t want to meet that dumb horse.”

Me: “Yes we are going. You can go to the car yourself or I can carry you – it’s your choice.”

Daughter: (being carried in my arms): “I’m not going and you can’t make me.”

Me: “We’re going to go. Some really nice people invited us and I’d like to meet the horse. You don’t have to meet the horse, but you can come along.”

40 minutes later, she was in the barn asking Sandie lots of questions about the horse, feeding him carrots, and petting his soft, velvety nose. Wihtout hesitation she got on his back and while Sandie led Rosie and Bob and I walked, then jogged, then walked, then jogged, then ran, then walked, alongside to provide some additional spotting, she sat atop of Rosie grinning from ear to ear. She put her arms high in the air, she turned around in the saddle, she petted Rosie several times, and she was a real natural. After the ride, she helped Sandie to bandage his sensitive ankle, brush him, give him a few more carrots, and asked lots of questions. The barn cats provided momentary entertainment but the horse was the focus. Rosie was walked to his staff where our little girl said goodbye to him and thanked him for letting her ride him. It was very sweet.

Later, as we were leaving, she said, “I love Rosie.” I asked her why, earlier in the day, she was hiding under her covers and didn’t want to come out. She concluded that it was due to her feeling afraid and nervous about trying something new.

Hopefully as grown-ups we no longer literally cover ourselves with a blanket and refuse to be open to some new experience… but maybe there are some folks out there who still try that mode of avoidance! There are a lot of ways, however, to refuse to allow fear and anxiety to rule our decisions and therefore prevent us from being open to a new experiience, relationship or moment of grace. In those moments when we are faced with something that may seem too wonderful, exciting, frightening, colossal, overwhelming or just plan too much, we may want to stop and ask ourselves, “Am I hiding under the covers right now because I am afraid? What new lesson may be waiting for me in this moment, in this event the outcome of which I have no clue?”

Be at peace, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

Gina shared this with me several years ago when I was in the midst of some personal struggle and discernment. She sent it to me again a week or so ago… it’s powerful. These are words from St. Francis De Sales, a bishop and spiritual director/teacher in the Roman Catholic Church in the late 16th/early 17th Century. He did a good deal of spiritual direction with people via letters, and the words below are taken from a letter of spiritual direction with his dear friend, Jane Frances De Chantal.

Do not look forward in fear to the changes in life; rather, look to them with full hope that as they arise, God, whose very own you are, will lead you safely through all things; and when you cannot stand it, God will carry you in His arms.

Do not fear what may happen tomorrow; the same understanding Father who cares for you today will take care of you then and every day.

He will either shield you from suffering or will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

Now there’s something to pray about, reflect on and seek to live into… Amen!

P.S. How blessed am I that the one I am married to would share such a beautiful (and true) reflection with me!

I was so much older then, I”m younger than that now: On not knowing and knowing

In the second reading for Sunday, January 29, we have a passage from the First Letter to the Corinthians, chapter 8, verses 1-13. St. Paul, as usual, points us to something true and profound. Here’s what he writes: “Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge, but anyone who loves God is known by him.”

I can recall several times in my life when I thought, beyond a doubt, that I knew something. I can think of examples growing up, in school, while involved in a give ministry and in relationships when I was certain I had come to clear, concrete and definite conclusions about the matter at hand. In fact, I can recall times I was so sure of what I knew that I judged others with contrary opinions to be lacking in some fundamental way. Those who had a different ‘take’ than I did, I reasoned, just hadn’t been shown the true or right way. In fact, my line of thinking continued, if they would just ask me, or listen to me (since I frequently volunteered my special insights without invitation), they would come to the correct understanding that I had reached before them.

Over times, I came to realize that I know less and less. The refrain written by folk singer Bob Dylan rings true: “I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.”

This has been on my mind as of late because I’ve been meeting with a number of parishioners and going through a small book entitled, The Episcopal Handbook. It’s a wonderful sometimes humorous and most times very insightful book that describes many of the great facets of our Episcopal life and faith. One of the hallmarks of our faith tradition is a pretty staunch refusal to define for people in some sort of exhaustive way what they must believe or adhere to in order to be part of the Episcopal Church, or a member of this parish.

Does this mean that “anything goes”? Not at all. Rather, it means that we remain rooted in and committed to a faith based in ancient Christianity, the Creeds and the Scriptures. At the same time, it means we seek to keep “the main thing the main thing” as we search for the truth and a closer walk with Christ. It also necessarily means that we admit in all humility that we do not have all the answers, as individuals or as a Church. We seek to recognize and affirm that people of good will, even fellow believers in Christ, may come to significant disagreement about some very important issues. However, we also have profound agreement when it comes to seeking, knowing, loving and sharing faith in Jesus Christ.

Yes, I am not as sure now as I used to be – about many things. However, with that sense of being certain of less, I find that I am also growing stronger in faith, hope and love. I don’t need as many black-and-white answers as I once did – I entrust a good deal of that to our loving God and His care. I seek to do His will by doing the next right thing. I seek to praise Him and follow Him. I try to love Him by loving others and I try and remember that when I care for the least among us – the most broken, vulnerable and marginalized, He has promised me that I will find Him there, too.

Somehow, what I know “for sure” is becoming less important to me. I hope that what I know and what I believe may be evident in how I live. I’m nowhere near that point of synthesis, but with God’s grace I remain hopeful!

Meanwhile, back in Kansas…

Continuing with the image of The Wizard of Oz and “There’s no place like home”, I am reminded of poet Robert Frost who wrote, “Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to let you in.”

Part of being ‘home’ for our little one is that she is gaining the sense of place and security that allows her to begin to express some of the hurt, pain, sadness and turmoil that stem from experiences of trauma. Somehow, it’s a compliment, we are told, that she is able to act out/vent/cathart in this way with us – like her five year old way of saying, “You guys are safe, and OK, and so let me share with you a little of what’s happening inside of me.” Let me be clear that there is nothing romantic about this – it’s tough at times. Gina is amazing in caring for this little person. I am doing my best.

Makes me hope that we all have someone we can be “at home” with – scars and all.

There’s no place like home…

We have a five-year old living with us now – a little girl who has had a rough start to life in lots of ways. We plan to adopt her if all unfolds as we hope. She continues to test us out, get to know us, and little by little she is reaching out in trust, and beginning to show us some of the more challenging and difficult behaviors that are a natural consequence of early childhood trauma.

She and Gina watched “The Wizard of Oz” together a couple of days ago. This morning, before school, the three of us played “Wizard of Oz”. Although in high school I played the Lion (my theatrical highpoint), this morning I was the wizard. Our little girl was Dorothy. After the wizard gets carried away in the balloon, Dorothy is left on her own. Our little girl, as Dorothy, lamented, “Now I’ll never get home!” Gina, as Glenda, the good witch, reminded her, “To get home, just click your heels together and say, ‘There’s no place like home.’”

So she stood in our living room, clicked her little heels together, and said, “There’s no place like home.” For her, this is true in a pretty real way. I’ve been thinking about her saying those words all day long.

In different ways, many of us are seeking “home”. It can be hard to pin down what “home” may mean for us, but I think we tend to know it when we’re there.

Come Lord Jesus! Wait…You’re Already Here!

Light of Lights! All gloom dispelling,

Thou didst come to make thy dwelling

Here within our world of sight.

Lord, in pity and in power,

Thou didst in our darkest hour

Rend the clouds and show thy might.

Praise to Thee in earth and heaven

Now and evermore be given,

Christ, who art our sun and shield.

Lord, for us thy life thou gavest,

Those who trust in thee thou savest,

All thy mercy stands revealed.

-St. Thomas Aquinas

It’s interesting, Karl Rahner and others have noted, that our chief prayer during Advent is a variation on, “Come Lord Jesus!”. It is a good idea to consider what we are asking when we pray these words.

Advent looks forward to the coming of Christ in two ways. First of all, we await/look forward to his birth in human history. We anticipate and look forward to the event of the Incarnation – the simple but profound truth of our faith that in Christ, God has taken on flesh to share fully in our humanity. Second, we look for him to come again in glory and establish God’s reign of justice and peace on the earth. Every time we profess our faith in the words of the Nicene Creed, we proclaim that we wait for him to come in glory, “and his kingdom will have no end.”

So when we pray, “Come Lord Jesus!”, we can look to that first sense of Advent expectation – the coming of Christ in history, and we can answer that, pretty definitively, this has happened. He has come into history in an unrepeatable, unique and very human way. When we think about the second meaning of Advent preparation and longing, what we are saying is that we want him to return in glory, to establish his reign on earth. That glorious end-time, while many have tried to predict it throughout history, is way beyond being knowable by the likes of us. Jesus tells us that the Father alone knows when this is going to take place (see Mark 13:32 for example) and so it’s not our job to worry about when it will take place. We are assured that we’ll know about it as it’s unfolding.

In the meantime, praying “Come Lord Jesus!” means that we want Him here now, in the midst of us. Here’s the thing: he is here. He has given us the gift of the Holy Spirit and has promised us that when we gather in His name, proclaim the good news of Christ in His name, seek to serve Him by serving the hungry, thirsty, the outcast, the orphan, the stranger and the prisoner… we shall encounter Him. Every time.

Maybe, then, a better prayer would be, “Lord Jesus, help us come to you!”. Let’s make that our Advent expression of longing, waiting, joyful hope and expectation – may we at last come to the One who was, who is, and who is to come.