I've recently taken to praying the Divine Hours again. It occurred to me the other day how much of my energy is wasted in creation when praying. I become distracted from the point of prayer - communing with God - when I am trying to "find appropriate words." Perhaps many of you don't struggle with this, but perhaps many of you do. Hour by Hour is put out by the Episcopal Church as a text to guide the laity into the practice of praying the traditional daily prayer cycle of Christendom.
The offices are written and organized so as to simply be prayed aloud. Read word for word. Now, one can read line by line with little meaning and complain that it is not real prayer because it does not come from the heart. Or, one may approach this with a sense of liberation from the burden of extemporaneous expression. What after all do we say to God? If God is God and we are not, what are the right words? And, when life becomes so convoluted that it makes us barely recognize ourselves, how do we find words to live, let alone pray?
Somehow in praying these ancient words, it becomes apparent that prayer is a state of mind and heart and very little about the words. It is about the way we allow the Spirit to breath through us, to pray for us, to tap into our subconscious and expose our deepest and most unknown self to God and to us. It can be exorcism, exhortation, and exaltation of the self. We are dynamic beings with an eternal reality. When prayer is liberated from the necessity of creation, we are liberated to find our true self with an enormous amount of inspired introspection.
This is not to say that extemporaneous prayer is inappropriate or lacking in value; but simply to elevate the status of the highly under-rated practice of written prayer. For within the context of the Divine Hours, it becomes painstakingly clear that our most fully human self is only bolstered by the fully divine Christ within us. Without the distraction of word hunting, we are free to see ourselves as both created and capable of healing re-creation that benefits ourself and the world around us.
It becomes clear that God is not a genie in a bottle who grants wishes to deserving doters but is rather a radically dynamic force within and around who animates us when we surrender to the reality that on our own, we will never be fully human. We were created to commune with the divine in the context of the gift of our own humanity. And, as an added perk, God cares very little about how broken that gift is, as long as we are willing to continually receive the healing love that extends to every person from this side of the Cross through the other side of Eternity. This is good news, indeed.
24 June 2011
21 June 2011
God’s Lunch Cart of Greater Economy
Isaiah 55:1-11
Sermon for Easter Vigil 2011
We have many images of God: mother and father; friend and lover; destroyer and disciplinarian; lion and lamb; Ancient of Days, and the great I AM. The image we get of God here, that of one much like a New York City street vendor pushing a Hebrew National cart amidst the hustle and bustle of lunch hour in the financial district, is rare yet familiar, crude yet poignant. The people running around are dressed a little more chicly than they would be with no one to impress, no promotion to strive toward, no client to schmooze. This reality is not what the college textbooks promised; the stress nor the lack of life, the lack of time to appreciate beauty nor the race to acquire for no other reason than acquisition’s sake are desirable choices when selecting a way to the abundant life, but this is the reality for those who seek that American Dream. Getting and spending we lay waste our powers, but we must sacrifice today for the better of tomorrow…right?
No one thinks much of God’s cart on the periphery. It’s nice. Always there. One of those comfort food carts, a mainstay that you can go to and count on when you are having a bad day and you want some illusion of order in the chaos. But it is not the place to dine. It’s okay to be caught there on occasion; we are all in a rush. But, with the myriad of places that cost more for lunch than an hour of work pays, it is important to give the illusion of doing well. How else with this economy recover if even those who “make the most” haven’t enough to dine as they please? What will the commoners think? This kind of belt tightening trickles down, after all; and we need them to spend so that the economy will recover. Yes, we better eat up, even though with every bite we force a smile knowing that we have given our hearts away to some force much too demanding.
Today, the crazy white-haired vendor with the Hebrew National cart gets a little loud. “Hungry? Thirsty? Come on. I have the cure right here. Scraping for change? That’s perfect; I’m here just for you. Dine well on me. I’ve rolled out the red carpet; the cloth napkins are all pressed. Don’t believe me? Taste, see. This is good stuff…and it’s on me. Just come and buy from my cart.” He catches the attention of many and the crowd starts to shift. Store owners realize there is a stir; the periphery has now taken center stage. People are really hungry. Starved. They have tried every which way but Sunday to fill up, but nothing works. So, why not the crazy vendor offering food on the house with the promise of being full for the first time in years?
Joyfully, God throws open the cart top and begins assembling the meal. Groans spread through the assembly. “It’s the same stuff you always bring. Why do you think we don’t come here much? Who’s going to get full on a that?” Store owners begin to laugh and the crowd begins to heckle. Then silence overcomes the crowd at God’s Word: “You come to work everyday hoping today may be the day that your life begins, don’t you? You go to lunch thinking today may be the day when you are satisfied, right? Every day on the way home you catch yourselves thinking, I’m working for this? For indebted dreams and wasted wages? When is the last time you didn’t wake up to the sound of the alarm and the emptiness of a house full of stuff?” A visiting woman yells from the back: “This problem is not just here; we’re all dealing with this kind of emptiness.” And, the crowd, for a moment, has the daunting feeling that God’s been reading their mail.
They begin to shuffle away, thinking they had been shamed, until they realize that God is still speaking. “Its not too late, you know. Sure, this economy has you coming up short. I know it doesn’t look like the food in my cart is going to fill you up, but I promise it will because it is my food. It is mercy and grace, forgiveness and joy, hope and love in a world that is choking to death on the bitterness of their tired tears.” A man speaks up from the back: “Are you telling us you know we have been starving for real fulfillment and that you have been holding out on us? Where have you been? Why haven’t you said anything sooner?” Sometimes, you just have to yell at God, especially when you’ve been working so hard to make so much sense out of nonsense.
The crowd turns in astonishment; who addresses God so audaciously? “My dear son, my silence does not translate into my absence. Some things are so terrible even I don’t have words that comfort. I met my Son’s Good Friday with silence because it was awful and I had no words. I’ve met all of your Good Fridays with silence, for the same reason: there are no comforting words when loosing a child, hearing the result is malignant, for genocide, war, famine, and economic peril; there simply are no words. In dire times, the best I have is my presence with my people, silently weeping with you. Comfort, comfort; oh my people. I’ve always been here. There is no use in being in your face; it only offends. So listen, while you’ve drawn near to me now. Listen while you have ears to hear. You are standing in the shadow of this economy’s Good Friday, but a greater economy transcends your perception of reality. I’ve always been here and will always be here. I am the Living God who never broke the covenant with my people even when they have with me. I’m here, with you now, renewing my covenant, granting you the abundant life.” Some leave. Some heckle: “There’s no such thing as free lunch!” Truth is often hard to hear, even when it’s good news. God continues from behind his lunch cart as the people decide whether to stay or whether to go.
“You are right to say ‘There is no free lunch;’ One thing I ask: lay down the busted dreams your getting and spending promises. Leave that emptiness for the fulfilling food of the cross. The cross is heavy, and cruel and gruesome but can’t be nearly as burdensome as the hollow existence you’ve shared with me today because at the end of it’s shadow lives Hope and nailed to it’s wood is Love. So take, eat, all of you. This bread and this wine is the abundant life. It always is, always has been, and always will be. This is filling food. Filling food indeed”
Suddenly, all of the other restaurants simply didn’t measure up to this modest lunch cart of greater economy, God smiles, reassuring them: “I admit, today, on this Black Sabbath it seems like midnight will never end. All hope seems lost when you stand in the shadow of the cross. But, trust me, just trust me, though your sorrow may last through the night, with the cross, Joy comes in the morning.
Sermon for Easter Vigil 2011
We have many images of God: mother and father; friend and lover; destroyer and disciplinarian; lion and lamb; Ancient of Days, and the great I AM. The image we get of God here, that of one much like a New York City street vendor pushing a Hebrew National cart amidst the hustle and bustle of lunch hour in the financial district, is rare yet familiar, crude yet poignant. The people running around are dressed a little more chicly than they would be with no one to impress, no promotion to strive toward, no client to schmooze. This reality is not what the college textbooks promised; the stress nor the lack of life, the lack of time to appreciate beauty nor the race to acquire for no other reason than acquisition’s sake are desirable choices when selecting a way to the abundant life, but this is the reality for those who seek that American Dream. Getting and spending we lay waste our powers, but we must sacrifice today for the better of tomorrow…right?
No one thinks much of God’s cart on the periphery. It’s nice. Always there. One of those comfort food carts, a mainstay that you can go to and count on when you are having a bad day and you want some illusion of order in the chaos. But it is not the place to dine. It’s okay to be caught there on occasion; we are all in a rush. But, with the myriad of places that cost more for lunch than an hour of work pays, it is important to give the illusion of doing well. How else with this economy recover if even those who “make the most” haven’t enough to dine as they please? What will the commoners think? This kind of belt tightening trickles down, after all; and we need them to spend so that the economy will recover. Yes, we better eat up, even though with every bite we force a smile knowing that we have given our hearts away to some force much too demanding.
Today, the crazy white-haired vendor with the Hebrew National cart gets a little loud. “Hungry? Thirsty? Come on. I have the cure right here. Scraping for change? That’s perfect; I’m here just for you. Dine well on me. I’ve rolled out the red carpet; the cloth napkins are all pressed. Don’t believe me? Taste, see. This is good stuff…and it’s on me. Just come and buy from my cart.” He catches the attention of many and the crowd starts to shift. Store owners realize there is a stir; the periphery has now taken center stage. People are really hungry. Starved. They have tried every which way but Sunday to fill up, but nothing works. So, why not the crazy vendor offering food on the house with the promise of being full for the first time in years?
Joyfully, God throws open the cart top and begins assembling the meal. Groans spread through the assembly. “It’s the same stuff you always bring. Why do you think we don’t come here much? Who’s going to get full on a that?” Store owners begin to laugh and the crowd begins to heckle. Then silence overcomes the crowd at God’s Word: “You come to work everyday hoping today may be the day that your life begins, don’t you? You go to lunch thinking today may be the day when you are satisfied, right? Every day on the way home you catch yourselves thinking, I’m working for this? For indebted dreams and wasted wages? When is the last time you didn’t wake up to the sound of the alarm and the emptiness of a house full of stuff?” A visiting woman yells from the back: “This problem is not just here; we’re all dealing with this kind of emptiness.” And, the crowd, for a moment, has the daunting feeling that God’s been reading their mail.
They begin to shuffle away, thinking they had been shamed, until they realize that God is still speaking. “Its not too late, you know. Sure, this economy has you coming up short. I know it doesn’t look like the food in my cart is going to fill you up, but I promise it will because it is my food. It is mercy and grace, forgiveness and joy, hope and love in a world that is choking to death on the bitterness of their tired tears.” A man speaks up from the back: “Are you telling us you know we have been starving for real fulfillment and that you have been holding out on us? Where have you been? Why haven’t you said anything sooner?” Sometimes, you just have to yell at God, especially when you’ve been working so hard to make so much sense out of nonsense.
The crowd turns in astonishment; who addresses God so audaciously? “My dear son, my silence does not translate into my absence. Some things are so terrible even I don’t have words that comfort. I met my Son’s Good Friday with silence because it was awful and I had no words. I’ve met all of your Good Fridays with silence, for the same reason: there are no comforting words when loosing a child, hearing the result is malignant, for genocide, war, famine, and economic peril; there simply are no words. In dire times, the best I have is my presence with my people, silently weeping with you. Comfort, comfort; oh my people. I’ve always been here. There is no use in being in your face; it only offends. So listen, while you’ve drawn near to me now. Listen while you have ears to hear. You are standing in the shadow of this economy’s Good Friday, but a greater economy transcends your perception of reality. I’ve always been here and will always be here. I am the Living God who never broke the covenant with my people even when they have with me. I’m here, with you now, renewing my covenant, granting you the abundant life.” Some leave. Some heckle: “There’s no such thing as free lunch!” Truth is often hard to hear, even when it’s good news. God continues from behind his lunch cart as the people decide whether to stay or whether to go.
“You are right to say ‘There is no free lunch;’ One thing I ask: lay down the busted dreams your getting and spending promises. Leave that emptiness for the fulfilling food of the cross. The cross is heavy, and cruel and gruesome but can’t be nearly as burdensome as the hollow existence you’ve shared with me today because at the end of it’s shadow lives Hope and nailed to it’s wood is Love. So take, eat, all of you. This bread and this wine is the abundant life. It always is, always has been, and always will be. This is filling food. Filling food indeed”
Suddenly, all of the other restaurants simply didn’t measure up to this modest lunch cart of greater economy, God smiles, reassuring them: “I admit, today, on this Black Sabbath it seems like midnight will never end. All hope seems lost when you stand in the shadow of the cross. But, trust me, just trust me, though your sorrow may last through the night, with the cross, Joy comes in the morning.
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