LENT: Sowing Season, Holy Time

Daily Meditations for Lent 2013 Pullen Memorial Baptist Church

Reflections for a Lenten Journey

On the congregation’s behalf, Pullen’s Personnel Committee and staff graciously allowed me to take a two-and-a-half-month study leave in the fall of 2012. The study leave included participation in a 50th anniversary gathering of partners in the Community of the Cross of Nails in Coventry, England; a week at St. Mary’s Abbey in West Malling, England; a brief visit with our partner from the Republic of Georgia Archbishop Malkhaz Songulashvili and his wife, Ala, in Oxford; two separate overnight visits with a friend who lives near London; and several days of driving in the south of England. Following the England trip, I spent nearly two months on the beach at Pawleys Island, S.C. near my childhood home. During this grace-filled time away, my task was to write devotional materials for use by the congregation during Lent 2013. The daily reflections that follow are the product of these days.

Unbeknownst to me when my study leave was planned, the combination of these adventures proved to be fruitful and related in surprising ways. What I have recorded here highlights some of the observations and at least for me personally, some of the insights

generated by my time away from Pullen. I write them aware that Lent is not an easy time for Pullenites and what is generative to me spiritually may not be helpful to others. While at the abbey, I read all of the Revised Common Lectionary passages for the 40 days and six Sundays of Lent and Easter thinking they would serve as a basis for our Lenten meditations. However, I quickly determined that using the lectionary texts this way would not work for me and probably not for others at Pullen. There are some unusual passages and combinations of passages in this season’s daily readings that require context and study time in order for them to make sense. Consequently, some days you’ll see a reference to the lectionary passage(s) for the day and some not. Ultimately, it is the experiences of my study leave that provided most of the fodder and the photographs included here.

Lent has historically been a time of reflection and penance in the life of the Church. It is when new Christians prepared for baptism through intense study and other Christians meditated on their shortcomings. In spite of the uneasiness felt by many progressive Christians in 2013 regarding the intense focus on confession and sins, these 40 days and six Sundays leading up to Easter provide an annual opportunity for us to dig deeper to understand who we really are and to consider who we truly want to be.

In her book St. Benedict on the Freeway: A Rule of Life for the 21st Century, writer and professor Corinne Ware observes that our tendency is to “live life on the run…to live on

the surface. We are trying to find the center in an off-center society.” She is right that we are “overstimulated and underenergized.” The hectic nature of our lives and the demands on us these days leave little time to focus on an interior life. In addition, I believe the ways technology has taught us to expect quick results also contributes to our difficulty in being still, looking inward, and waiting. So following Ware’s suggestions, I hope these meditations will not feel like an addition to an already hectic schedule but rather encouragement to make us more conscious of the sacred in our lives as they are and to consider slowing down a bit when we can.

I have also attempted to stay within the broader traditions of the Church as viewed through a progressive lens. Being a regular participant in a community of faith is a spiritual discipline in itself since today there are many other voices calling to us on Sunday mornings and other times when our churches gather. Our consumer culture also encourages us to approach our congregations like a buffet from which we can pick and choose what will give us good “return” on our investments. Instead of committing to a community over the long haul, says Ware, we are pushed to “cast aside the traditional in favor of a customized, á la carte faith and a more personalized spirituality.” Here I have assumed connection to a faith community and the Christian tradition, although these meditations may be helpful for those who have neither at this moment in their lives.

These reflections are based on my own life-giving experiences. They are shared with gratitude and in the hope that they will generate helpful reflection for others during this season of Lent.

Cathy Tamsberg Pullen Memorial Baptist Church Lent 2013

Wednesday, February 13, 2013 ASH WEDNESDAY

Today is Ash Wednesday, which marks the beginning of Lent. This evening at 6:30 Pullen people will join with Christians all over the world as we gather to begin this season of the church year and put ashes on each other’s foreheads. The ashes represent the fleeting nature of our existence. The traditional statement used in the imposition of ashes is “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Although we will likely use other language about this season’s opportunities for reflection and growth in our Pullen Ash Wednesday service, the ashes do remind us that change is part of the cycle of life. We are born, we live, we learn, we hurt, we love, and sooner or later we die a physical death.

This does not mean the material world is unimportant as some in Christian history believed. In fact, in today’s lectionary text, the prophet Isaiah reminds us that God asks not for religious ritual but a generous sharing of bread with the hungry (Isaiah 58:1-12). The material world, our physicality, matters to God and it mattered to Jesus, who spent a great deal of his time simply feeding people who were hungry for food. Yet the season of Lent offers us a time to look beneath and beyond our physical needs to address the emotional and spiritual needs that are equally a part of who we are. Given that my time on this earth is limited, what do I want my remaining years to be like? What values guide—really guide—my life today? Are there some I want to deepen or others I want to acquire? Do I have ways of being in the world and with others that I would like to change or discontinue? When my life winds down and its end is in sight, how will I feel about who I’ve been and what I’ve done? Is there a “bucket list” for my emotional and spiritual being that includes personal qualities, relationships, or commitments I want to develop before I become “dust?” Another way to look at Lent is to recognize that it comes during planting season in the Southern region of the U.S. Between late February and the end of March many of us will plant a garden of vegetables or flowers. So Lent coincides with our “sowing season” when we put seeds or young plants into the ground. We water and weed and nurture them in the hope that they will produce food or beauty later in the summer. So you might consider what seeds you want to plant in your life and the lives of others this Lent. Someone has said, “Who plants a seed beneath the sod and waits to see believes in God.” In whatever manner is helpful to you, use today, this Ash Wednesday, as a starting point for deeper reflection and prayer, for Lent is indeed a “sowing season, a holy time.”

Thursday, February 14, 2013 VALENTINE’S DAY

It is rare when the calendar produces an Ash Wednesday followed immediately by Valentine’s Day. We may feel a bit of whiplash as we move from the introspective, penitential nature of Ash Wednesday to an extroverted day when we express our feelings for those we love. The history of Valentine's Day is obscure, and further clouded by various fanciful legends. The holiday's roots go back to the ancient Roman festival of Lupercalia, a fertility celebration commemorated annually on February 15. Which St. Valentine is honored on this day remains a mystery: According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, there were at least three early Christian saints by that name and all three were said to have been martyred on Feb. 14. The day first became associated with romantic love in the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the High Middle Ages, when the tradition of courtly love developed.

Yet there is a rich opportunity in linking Valentine’s Day to Lent. Yesterday we were reminded that our days are not unlimited. What better reason could we find to tell the people we love how much we care for them? When you ask those who have been diagnosed with a serious illness or otherwise come close to death what they learned, the answers almost universally point to one thing: a deeper, more urgent commitment to the ones they love.

The psalm from yesterday’s lectionary also has a message for us on this day of hearts. Psalm 51 is a prayer that begins: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love…” (v.1a) and goes on to include that familiar petition, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.” (v.10) In between, the psalmist requests this: “You desire truth in the inward being, therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.” (v.6)

Lent’s home is one’s secret heart. It is a time for introspection. It is a time for wondering. It is a time for reflecting on who we are in all of our relationships—with the divine, with ourselves, with those we love, and with those we don’t love. May acquiring wisdom in our secret hearts be our goal as we journey through this Lenten season.

Friday, February 15, 2013

St. Mary's Abbey in West Malling, Kent, was founded as a community of Benedictine nuns around 1090. When Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in the late 1530s, it passed into secular ownership. In the late 19th century the abbey was restored to its original purpose by a charitable trust. Since 1916 a community of devoted Anglican women has resided in "this place where prayer has been valid,” gratefully entering into its heritage of peace and God-centered quiet. They live a mostly cloistered life that includes the Prayers of the Hours. This means they gather seven times a day in their stone chapel to chant the psalms, sing hymns, and pray together. Guests are invited to be present for all except Lauds, which begins around 5:00 AM. However, active participation by outsiders is limited to the early morning Eucharist. During the other prayer times, guests sit in a side alcove and simply listen prayerfully to the beautiful voices of

the Sisters as they fill the chapel and echo between the stone walls. When we got off the train with our bags and began the ten-minute walk to the abbey, I

expected it to be located outside of town, separated physically from the small village of West Malling. To our surprise, the directions led us down one of the main streets of town. Then the walls that surround the abbey appeared on our left as we reached a row of cafes and businesses on our right. In fact, the abbey sits near the middle of town.

At the beginning of the week, I was very aware of the sounds of passing cars, blowing horns, and other human activity. But as our week progressed and we adopted the rhythm of the abbey’s life, my sensitivity to the noise beyond the abbey walls diminished. If I focused on the outside commotion, I could hear it. Otherwise, it did not exist in any conscious sense. Instead the abbey became a place of peace and quiet that encouraged going deeper into one’s heart and soul.

Reflecting on my increasing lack of awareness of the village outside the walls, I was reminded that the abbey is what most of us seek for our lives – a place of retreat where the “noise” of the world is diminished. In those places, our lives, our families, our jobs, and our daily

activities still exist and we are not disconnected from them. We can respond quickly when we need to do so. But behind the wall is where we can “find our quiet center.” This is what Lent can be for us if we let it. This season invites us to go “behind the wall” to find a location, a practice, a rhythm that opens us up to the Holy inside of us. And, thankfully, 800-year-old stone walls are not required. Just an open, willing heart.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Today’s lectionary passage from the Hebrew Bible is that wonderful chapter in Ecclesiastes put to music by Pete Seeger and made famous by the Byrds back in the ‘60s. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8) It reminds us that there are seasons in our lives. Time to be a child, teenage years, a period of young adulthood, thirty-something years, middle age, retirement years, and older adulthood are all part of our lives if health and good fortune are ours. Within those periods are personal intervals: times for career development, nurturing relationships with spouses/partners, raising children, caring for elderly parents, as well as intensely challenging periods that may include things like rocky relationships, health issues, depression, job changes, or unemployment. The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us of many more.

Take time to read this passage in its entirety today. Then consider the question frequently posed by our former pastor Mahan Siler: “What time is it?” In your life, in the life of your family, what time is it? What is required of you in this period of your life? Who needs your support? What kind of support do you need in order to be supportive of others? Where can you go to get what you need? How can you find your sacred center in the midst of the demands placed upon you?

Then consider the world beyond your door. What time is it in the life of the world? We’re beginning to come out of a tremendously difficult time economically in our nation and around the world. Some people can feel the recovery personally and some cannot. We’ve just been through a brutal election season and we live in a period in American history when our citizens are polarized as never before. We are also living at a time when the American empire’s dominance seems to be waning. Civil wars and conflicts abound. What does all this mean for you as an individual and for you as a citizen of the U.S. and the world? What does it mean for the commonwealth of God?

If this exercise has left you hopeful and optimistic, take time to offer a prayer of gratitude. If it has left you overwhelmed or discouraged, pray for hope, for energy, and for people in your life with whom you can face life’s challenges. Regardless of what time it is in your life, hear these words from Ecclesiastes with your heart: “...It is God‘s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. I know that whatever God does endures forever...”

Sunday, February 17, 2013 FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT

Today’s passage from Luke is the story of the temptations of Jesus. (Luke 4:1-13) It tells the tale of his forty days in the wilderness followed by three temptations by the devil. He is tempted by an opportunity to satisfy his hunger; a chance to have power over all the kingdoms of the world; and by pressure to prove that his God will save him. The devil even quotes Scripture to him in repeating the

Psalm 91 promise that “they will bear you up so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” The key to the passage and Jesus’ ability to withstand the temptations is in the opening sentence of the chapter, where it says, “Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan…” He was full of the Holy Spirit, which had descended upon him at his baptism. Full. Not empty.

How often in our lives do we succumb to the temptation to do things we probably shouldn’t or neglect things we should probably do because we are running on empty? Stressed, exhausted, worn out, on overload—whatever term you use to describe it. Our culture encourages us to function in overdrive and it takes tremendous self-control to resist the impulse to do more and more.

Lent is a time to slow down. We are coming out of winter and signs of the arrival of spring are beginning to appear. The air is fresh if we take time to breathe it in. The inner resources we need to face the challenges in our lives are available. The old hymn encouraged us to “Take time to be holy, meet oft with the Lord.” This meeting with the Holy One is what it takes to be full of the Spirit. So take time for it. It’s free for the taking.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Running through the property of St. Mary’s Abbey is a lovely stream. It originates in a lake nearby and flows through the abbey, leaving dramatically in a small waterfall outside the wall that surrounds the grounds. The stream ran just below my second story Guest House window and I could faintly hear it even with the window closed. At night I slept with the window partially open in spite of the chilly weather so I could hear the flowing water. On the second day, I went exploring to see the stream up close and discovered why I could hear it so well. Just below my window the water dropped a couple of feet, flowing over rocks to a lower level. As the water fell over the rocks and picked up speed, it made a lot of noise. It struck me that our lives are like that. The faster we run to keep up with all of our activities, the noisier our lives become. The sound of rushing water is typically soothing (as long as it’s under control), but the noise created by our rushing around is not. It distracts us from what is important; it harms our health; and it interferes with our ability to hear the still, small voice that speaks to us in the silence. In today’s psalm, the writer begins by recounting the ways he has been righteous. (Psalm 17) But then this Psalm of David petitions God for a number of things, including that God “hide me in the shadow of your wings.” May this day include moments of quiet and calm so that you can detect the nearby flutter

of wings.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

In the closet of each guest room at the Abbey there was a hot water bottle. I laughed when I saw it because I had not seen one in years. My instinct was to ask, “What is this for?” Then I quickly realized it was there to do what hot water bottles often do—keep your feet warm. It was only the first week of October, but the weather was chilly at night. So I could imagine even with the radiators heating the rooms that something to keep your feet warm in January would be welcome.

The hot water bottles were yet another loving touch offered as part of Benedictine hospitality by the Sisters. They are very frugal, so turning up the heat to make the rooms toasty is not an option. They don’t even heat their mostly-stone worship space most of the year. But they have capes and wraps hanging on the door outside of the guest worship space in case you get chilly during one of the Prayers of the Hours. Small, inexpensive yet very loving touches were all around us, enveloping each guest with care. I wonder what kind of welcome we offer to others in our homes, in our workplaces, and in our church. Benedictines all over the world unselfishly offer to share whatever they have with total strangers. For example, there was no charge for our stay at the abbey and the request for a donation was very subtle. We could have slept and eaten there for a week for free. The Sisters have leased

several acres of their property to a program that welcomes homeless and troubled people. The length of the lease: 25 years. The rent: zero. Hospitality is their way of life. Is there someone you need to welcome today—into a friendship, into your home or office, or into your heart?

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

One of our lectionary texts for today begins the famous story of Job, who lost everything and yet refused to curse or blame God. (Job 1:1-22) No doubt few of us would be able to withstand the loss of family and property while retaining such a strong belief in God’s presence and goodness. Job was indeed an amazing gentleman. In fact, the theme for today’s lectionary is the activity of Satan, who made a deal with God to test Job and who, according to Scripture, entered Judas, causing him to betray Jesus. (Luke 21:34-22:6) What do you believe about the presence—or absence—of evil in our world? Is it a presence independent of humanity, or is it humanity’s greed and lust for power run amok? Most of us at Pullen believe in original blessing rather than original sin. We see nothing but goodness in a newborn child. What happens to turn an innocent baby into a Hitler or an Osama Bin Laden? In our Lenten journey, we are moving toward Good Friday when government officials with support from religious leaders and everyday citizens authorize the execution of Jesus, feeder of the hungry and healer of the sick.

Whatever our beliefs about Satan or evil, humans are definitely capable of terrible acts against each other and the planet. One young child, after watching the evening TV news reports of murders and violence, looked at his mother and asked, “Mommy, why can’t we make a world where it’s easier to be good?” We are co-creators with the Divine in making our world. Consider today how you might make it easier for someone who is tempted otherwise to be “good.”

Thursday, February 21, 2013

It’s another beautiful morning at the beach. Blue sky, no clouds, cool air, low humidity. It’s truly gorgeous. As I sit on the porch overlooking the creek, there is a serious conversation going on among the birds hidden in a small cedar-like tree next door. I think

several speakers are blue-black grackles. Others are Carolina wrens and sparrows. I’m not sure who else is having his or her say. I find myself wondering what they are talking about. Whatever it is, the grackles think it’s quite urgent. Finally a turkey vulture flies to the peak of one of the docks. It looks as if the roof is the bird’s pulpit and the sermon is about to begin. I am reminded that nature is speaking to itself and to us all the time, but we’re typically too busy to hear it. I am also reminded that God is doing the same thing, often through the birds and the other coinhabitants of our beautiful planet. One of our texts for today is the story of Abram and Lot dividing the land near Bethel. (Genesis 13:1-7, 14-18) The land can’t support both of their families and herds. So Abram lets Lot choose the part he wants and Abram takes what is left. The passage says of the section Lot took,

“…the plain of Jordan was well-watered everywhere like the garden of God…” That’s what most of the planet was like before people fought over it and used it for their benefit. Today try to perk up your ears to hear the birds speaking, the streams flowing, the dogs barking. You just might hear a Holy voice among the creatures’ conversations.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Last evening’s sunset over the creek was beautiful. The light bounced among the clouds and was brilliant in pinks and golds mixed with the fading blue of the sky. Today, when the sky was clear and cloudless, there was a lovely pink glow on the ocean as well as on the creek side as the sun set. But it lacked the brilliance of yesterday’s cloudy sky. In this contrast, I sense an important lesson. A perfect life without struggles and challenges lacks texture. Yesterday’s beauty was a direct result of all the clouds. Now it is certainly true that too many clouds block the light completely and many lives are so difficult that it’s hard for any light to get in. So I’m not naïve enough to suggest that we should go looking for clouds. They certainly aren’t fun while you’re under them. But life’s challenges do give us texture and, hopefully, a bit of wisdom if we can avoid being overwhelmed. Sometimes the wisdom comes when the difficulty is past and we have the perspective of some distance. But wisdom will come if we’re open to honest reflection on where we’ve been, how we got there, and what we learned about ourselves and about the world through the experience. Today’s psalm begins: “God is my light and my salvation; whom shall I

fear? God is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (27:1) When our lives are in the middle of developing “texture,” may this reminder bring us comfort and courage.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

On this day before a Sabbath Sunday, ponder this story from the Desert Fathers and Mothers shared by Sister Joan Chittister:

One day a hunter in the desert saw Abba Anthony enjoying himself with the brethren and he was shocked. What kind of spiritual guide was this? But the old monk said to him, “Put an arrow in your bow and shoot it.” So the hunter did. Then the old man said, “Shoot another.” And the hunter did. Then the elder said, “Shoot your bow again. Keep shooting; keep shooting; keep shooting.” And the hunter finally said, “But if I bend my bow so much I will break it.” Then Abba Anthony said to him, “It is just the same with the work of God. If we stretch ourselves beyond measure, we will break. Sometimes it is necessary to meet other needs.” When the hunter heard these words he was struck with remorse and, greatly edified by Anthony, he went away. As for the monastics there, they went home strengthened. “Leisure,” says Sister Joan in her chapter on “Holy Leisure,” “is not laziness and it is

not selfishness. It has something to do with the depth and breadth, length and quality of life.” Consider today how you will use tomorrow, Pullen’s fourth Sunday Sabbath, for holy leisure that will bring depth and meaning to your life.

Sunday, February 24, 2013 SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT

If ever there were an example of the spiritual practice of detachment, Jesus was it. In today’s lectionary text, some Pharisees come to advise Jesus that Herod wants to kill him. (Luke 13:31-35) Rather than being afraid as most of us would be, he sends a message back to Herod that he continues to heal the sick and will soon head to Jerusalem because that’s where the prophets are killed. The passage includes that wonderful verse where Jesus compares himself to a mother hen who desires to gather her chicks to protect them. (v. 34b) Evelyn Underhill describes detachment as “love without claimfulness.” The rich young ruler is an example of the opposite, attachment. He went away sorrowfully because he could not give up his property when Jesus said this was required in order for him to inherit eternal life. We all have things to which we are attached and that’s not all bad. But when what we have—things or people, status or power—separates us from the Holy One and from becoming our best selves, we are too attached. Detachment implies that something must be relinquished. It’s the “dying,” the “being last instead of first” that Jesus spoke about so often. On this Second Sunday in Lent, Jesus begins to “set his face toward Jerusalem.” Whatever he might have known earlier in his ministry, he seems clear now that he is headed toward the end of his life. And yet, like many martyrs who have come after him, Jesus sees his life permeated by God. His courage comes from his clarity that what he is doing—healing, casting out demons, feeding the hungry, teaching what love really looks like—is Holy work. Necessary work. Life-giving work. As we watch the end of his life play out in the days ahead, may we examine our attachments to see if our love is without claimfulness and our center is a Divine one.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Today you will have many things to focus on. It’s Monday and the start of a new week of work or school for many. Even for those who are retired or otherwise at home, Monday can be a busy day. Corinne Ware reminds us that we do not live by the sun but by the clock these days. Unlike us, the monastics of old organized their days around the Prayers of the Hours, got up with the sun, went to bed with the sun, and fit everything else they did into this schedule. Yet even in our 21st century technological age, we can recognize that all of life is Holy and find ways to live a sacramental life. Augustine described sacraments as “visible forms of invisible graces.” We Baptists don’t use the term sacrament, probably to our detriment. We call baptism and the Lord’s Supper (or communion) “ordinances” because Jesus directed his followers to practice them—and because early Baptists ran as far away from Catholic practice as possible.

But there is something meaningful in the word sacrament, from the Latin “to consecrate” or make sacred. Regardless of one’s leanings toward official church sacraments or ordinances, everything can be a sacrament. In Genesis 1:31, when creation was finished, God called it all “good.” But it requires intention and discipline to bring a sacramental lens to everyday life, which means we have to work at seeing the Holy, the “God-likeness,” the goodness in everything.

We will add other ways to work at acquiring this sacramental view of the day-to-day as we continue through Lent. But for this Monday, simply consider things you might do to remind you of the presence of the Holy during your day. Pray for those you encounter even if it’s just a brief conscious desire for their good before you say “hello.” Look up from your work long enough to notice the beauty of the world around you. We’re not talking about a 30-minute break from activity here. Instead just try to remember during your busy day that you are sacred and life is sacred, and give thanks.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

It stirred my soul to stand in the ruins of Coventry Cathedral remembering how a once-glorious building was nearly demolished by Hitler’s air force in November of 1940. All that remains is the shell. But the reason the walls of the cathedral are inspiring and the reason they were preserved are not because of its former beauty. The new cathedral was built next to the ruins of the old one because of how the cathedral community responded after the bombing, which also killed more than 500 citizens of Coventry. Just a week before the bombs destroyed the sacred building, Provost Gordon Howard said in his sermon, “When the war is over, we will need to reach out to the people of Germany.” Within days, the city was bombed and the sincerity of this statement as well as his personal courage were tested. His call for reconciliation rather than revenge initiated efforts at reconciliation that have spanned the decades since. His message was shared not only with the citizens of Coventry but also via a BBC broadcast throughout England

The Community of the Cross of Nails, of which Pullen is a partner, is but one manifestation of this call to reconcile with those who would be our enemies. The fact that we were joined in Coventry on the 50th anniversary of the dedication of the new cathedral by numerous Germans; that the history of CCN was recently written by a German; and that the English translation of this history was paid for by German Christians are other manifestations of the impact of one person’s commitment to the ministry of reconciliation. And the Cross of Nails hanging in Dachau, site of the notorious “model” German concentration camp, is yet another. All of us have relationships in our lives—including with ourselves—that need reconciliation. Consider today whether one stop on your Lenten journey may be a place where the time for reconciliation has arrived.

Wednesday, February 27, 2013

During his ministry, Jesus makes reference to the fate of prophets. He is attacked by his neighbors when he announces at the beginning of his ministry that the prophet Isaiah’s words were fulfilled in him. At the end of his life, Jesus grieves that Jerusalem kills its prophets and he numbers himself among them. He also quotes the Hebrew prophets frequently during the course of his teaching. Our lectionary texts for today recall the importance of prophets as God’s messengers. (Psalm 105: 1-15, 42; 2 Chronicles 20:1-22) Coventry Cathedral’s Provost Gordon Howard offered a prophetic word after the bombing of the cathedral in 1940. As the inscription behind the altar of the ruins reflects, the provost and the cathedral community understood the need for a reconciling response to the destruction inflicted by the German planes, so they prayed “Father, forgive.” Pardoning the 1940s male language for God, notice that Provost Howard did not say, “Father, forgive them.” In his mind, only Jesus could pray the prayer, “Father, forgive

them.” The rest of us have much for which we need forgiveness ourselves even when others do us harm.

Part of the justification for our violent and costly response to Hitler was the death and destruction he spread across Europe, especially upon the Jews. Although the information about concentration camps wasn’t known in detail in 1940, many nations knew Hitler was up to no good in the late 1930s. Yet the U.S. stood by, understandably not wanting to get involved, until only a bloody war would stop him. And most historians agree that the way Germany was treated at the end of World War I set the stage for a demoralized German people to gravitate toward a leader who would help them reclaim their place in the world. Provost Howard was wise in choosing a prayer that all of us can offer all the time. We are called to forgive those who hurt us as best we can. But forgiveness of others must surely include recognition that as imperfect humans, we

are in need of forgiveness ourselves. Ponder today if forgiveness needs attention in your life during this season.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Church is a mixed bag for many people in the Pullen community. In the words of Corinne Ware, for some of us, it is a powerful and solid anchor that holds us as we negotiate our lives. Others among us have had a history with the Church that has led us away for good reasons and back after many years. For still others, saying that we have a love-hate relationship with the institution—Pullen specifically or Church generally—would be an honest and accurate statement. Church is flawed, for sure, but it is ours. Without a faith tradition, we have to negotiate our spirituality on our own. That’s not all bad since remaking our understandings and experiences of the sacred can generate meaningful growth. But it can also turn us into “dabblers” who have lots of spiritual flexibility but no rootedness. One of today’s lectionary texts is Revelation 2:8-11. It’s one of the letters to the churches for which this final book of the New Testament is famous. The audience is the church at Smyrna and the letter warns that this community will be tested. This has always been true for churches. As a collection of humans, churches have all the gifts and problems of humanity. Sometimes we love well and sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we take risks and sometimes we’re too timid. Sometimes we give generously and sometimes we’re selfish. Today as you go about your daily activities, consider what your Pullen family means to you during this Lent. Say a prayer for Pullen members, friends, and staff. Pray that their journeys through Lent will be meaningful. Give thanks for what Pullen has meant to the world in its 128-year history as you pray for a future that is faithful to our special calling in the months and years ahead.

Friday, March 1, 2013

Meals at the abbey are mostly silent. Breakfast and supper are self-serve and eaten in complete silence regardless of how many guests are present. Also at dinner, which is served in the middle of the day, the guests are silent. However, Sister Mary John, the Guest Sister, read to us as we ate this midday meal. We had known of this plan and I had expected that she would read Scripture to us. Instead she chose a wonderful book she deemed appropriate for the average guest, Finding Sanctuary; Monastic Steps for Everyday Life by Abbot Christopher Jamison. She was right. In one of the readings, Abbot Jamison suggests we are all looking for sanctuary, which has two definitions. One is sacred space and the other is a refuge away from something. In today’s culture, he says, people tend to look for the second kind of sanctuary because we want to get away from our hectic, over-scheduled lives. In fact, says the Abbot, what we really need is the first—a sacred space that accompanies us every day rather than a place we go to for refuge or retreat from the world. We use hobbies and vacations to “get away,” which means, he suggests, that we use the consumer culture to get away from the consumer culture. It provides a change of scenery, but seldom meets our true

need for any length of time. Today reflect on how you might create that first definition of sanctuary in your day-to-day life. Is there a room in your home, a corner of your yard, a place in nature, or an inner quietness that can accompany you daily? Could your calling during this Lent be to find such a place in order to nurture your soul?

Saturday, March 2, 2013

I always wonder what people mean when they say, “I’m spiritual but not religious.” I assume this means they have a sense of the Divine in their lives but aren’t fans of traditional religion as they see it in the culture. But the term religio means “rebinding.” It refers to the hunger of the human to be in union, to re-bind oneself to the One who creates. At Pullen we talk about our international partnerships as ministries of “accompaniment.” It is accompaniment that this word “religion” really refers to—our desire to be accompanied by God through the twists and turns of our lives.

One can certainly argue if that’s what religion is supposed to be, we have really screwed it up with our institutions and rules and dogma. But it’s not what religion has to be. At its best, religion’s core should be spirituality. Geoffrey Wainwright says, “Spirituality is the combination of praying and living.” Corinne Ware suggests that we are seeking a state of “recollection,” which is a continuous awareness of the Holy. Intellectual folks that we are, we talk at Pullen about “thinking theologically.” I think these all refer to the same thing—the desire to be connected to God; to see the sacred all around us; to analyze what goes on in the world in the context of a Divine one who always works through love toward justice.

One purpose of worship is to make space for this connection to happen. It is for seeking God and being found by God. As you anticipate worshipping tomorrow, consider today how you might prepare yourself to seek and be found by God wherever you are—geographically and spiritually.

Sunday, March 3, 2013 THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT

I’ve read that primitive peoples believed if you ate a particular animal, you would acquire its attributes, like bravery, strength, or beauty. Today is a Communion Sunday. We Baptists don’t believe the bread we eat and grape juice we drink when we celebrate communion are the literal body and blood of Jesus as our Catholic friends do. Yet it is possible to connect our participation in this ritual with our desire to be more like Jesus. He was a healer, a teacher of wisdom, a feeder of the hungry in body and spirit, a forgiver even of those who took his life, a giver of second chances. Our Gospel lectionary text for today is the story of the fig tree that did not produce fruit. (Luke 13:1-9) After three years with no figs, the owner wants to cut it down. Instead the gardener asks for permission to give it one more chance just in case some tender loving care will make a difference in the productivity of the tree. In the middle of a harsh admonition about repentance, Jesus interrupts himself to tell this story about a second chance. This perspective is consistent with Matthew’s Gospel, where he directs his disciples to forgive others “seventy times seven.” (18:22) So while Jesus frequently offers a harsh critique of the behavior he sees even among people who profess to be God-followers, his call to repentance is always offered in the context of generous opportunities for change. Trappist monk Thomas Merton’s famous prayer includes the line, “And I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you.” In other words, Merton believed that sincere efforts to be loving, healing, forgiving people—even when we fail—do please God. On this third Sunday in Lent, consider to whom you might need to offer a second chance. To a family member or friend? To yourself? To those with whom you radically disagree? In today’s health-conscious society, we know how much truth there is in the old adage, “You are what you eat.” Whatever your theology of communion, it is true that we generally become what nourishes us. May what we eat on this Communion Sunday bring us closer to becoming the people we were created to be.

Monday, March 4, 2013

Lent is a tricky time for many Pullenites. Many Christians believe in the traditional theory of atonement that says God sent Jesus to die on the cross to save us from our sins and he rose from the dead on the third day. For them, Easter is the most important day of the year. But many of us are either ambivalent about this understanding or reject it completely. This makes the Lent/Holy Week/Easter season complicated. Said more simply, without a fairly clear theology of the cross, it’s hard to know what to do with this period in the liturgical year—and for some, their questions make the celebration of communion each month challenging as well. This is why our Wednesday night programs during Lent will feature Pullen people sharing what they believe about the cross. So what do we do with this season? If we view standard atonement theory as a relic from the Jewish tradition of blood sacrifice that doesn’t adequately or even accurately explain why Jesus came and what happened to him at the end of his life, is there a meaningful replacement?

Let me suggest that we start by naming some things we do believe. Was he executed instead because he challenged the powers of his day? Was he killed because he articulated what liberation theologians call “God’s preferential option for the poor?” Did he die because he offered a vision of the commonwealth of God that was simply too radical for many people, especially those with resources, to accept? It’s likely that all of these influenced the outcome.

Considering the crucifixion from another vantage point, it always feels like a valuable exercise to put ourselves in the place of others of whom we are critical and ponder how we would have responded. For example, if we had lived in Germany as Christians when Hitler began sending Jewish citizens to concentration camps, would we have had the courage to hide our Jewish neighbors in order to save their lives?

As you reflect on what you believe about the death and resurrection of Jesus today, consider how you might have responded to Jesus if you had been a leader in the synagogue with a comfortable way of life to protect. Would you have embraced the radical message that he attributed to God, or would you have been silent as your comrades plotted to get rid of him?

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

With a machete, a sand brush, and a bucket of herbicide in hand, Hal paid us a visit yesterday. He was here to attack a kudzu-like plant known as “beach vitex” that has threatened to take over the South Carolina Lowcountry. This Korean plant looks and smells like eucalyptus and bears beautiful purple flowers, but it produces hundreds of thousands of seeds. Its growth pattern “makes kudzu look like a wimp” (Hal’s words), eroding dunes and killing sea turtle hatchlings and native plants such as sea oats. To prevent spreading, you have to kill the plant before you pull it up, since a live beach vitex plant “tosses seeds like a sower” (Hal again). So we watched as Hal went from one plant to another, using his machete to skin the outer layer off the vine and then paint it with a green liquid.

In this sowing season we call Lent, Hal reminds me of the parable of the sower found in all three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew 13:3-9; Mark 4:3-9; Luke 8:4-15). In the familiar story, the sower spreads seeds on all kinds of soil. Some is rocky and some is thorny. Some seeds fall on the path and get eaten by the birds and some ground is fertile. Corinne Ware points out that our typical analysis of this story includes figuring out what kind of ground we are. Are we the rocky ground or the thorny ground, or are we fertile soil ready to produce fruit from the seeds? In fact, we are all of these at some points in our lives, and perhaps even all of them in a single day. Sometimes we are open and ready to hear a sacred word intended for us. At other times we’re busy on our well-worn paths and miss a gift that might have been ours. Some days life is so tough we can’t hear anything but the thoughts in our own heads that, like thorns, threaten to choke off life-giving messages and experiences. Sometimes we’re angry or hurt and in a place too rough for anything productive to get in. Each of us is also a sower of seeds. A horticulturist thought beach vitex would be a fast-growing way to hold together dunes that had to be replenished after Hurricane Hugo. Likewise, we sometimes think we’re sowing good seeds and wind up being well-intended, but wrong. Today, ponder yourself as a recipient of seeds sown by the Spirit and as a sower of seeds as well.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

The mouse in the waiting room was a brave little character. As we sat in a London train station awaiting the departure of our train to Coventry, we looked up from our books to see this tiny little creature run out into the middle of floor. Even in the presence of half a dozen humans hundreds of times its size, the mouse ventured out from behind the drink machine to get crumbs of food in the middle of the room. It reminded me how much one will risk when one is starving—for bread or for justice.

It strikes me that this is part of our problem as middle class people in the “First World.” We may not have everything we want, but we have what we need to survive pretty comfortably…food, housing, financial resources, independence, legal rights, at least the opportunity to vote even if we sometimes feel that our votes don’t matter much. We’re not “hungry” enough to take risks because we don’t need to, not like the people of Syria or Palestine or dozens of other places around the world. And since we’ve acquired what we have with things the way they are, we are disinclined to want to change the system that benefitted us.

I think what got Jesus into trouble and led him to the cross was his call for God-followers to take risks—not because we need to do so for our own survival, but because we need to stick our necks out on behalf of others. He said it in many ways: the last shall be first; the greatest shall be servant of all; one must lose her/his life to save it. The safety of our lives can make us complacent, yet complacency is not our calling. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who risked it all and lost his life opposing Hitler, said famously, “When God calls a man (person), he bids him come and die.” Archbishop Oscar Romero, Martin Luther King Jr., and many others took the same risk and paid with their lives.

Our calling may not be to a literal death, but it is to take more risks than most of us do. As you go about your daily activities, consider how hunger for bread or justice empowers everyday human beings—and mice—to take courageous stands. And consider, too, how we can foster that kind of hunger in ourselves and our communities even as citizens of the comfortable First World.

Thursday, March 7, 2013

In her book St. Benedict on the Freeway, writer Corinne Ware has one goal: to encourage each of us “to become conscious of God in all that we are doing.” With a clear awareness of the difficulty of finding time for frequent prayer and meditation (any time for prayer and meditation?) in the life of most Americans, she examines the Rule of St. Benedict for ways that we can develop a prayerful, thoughtful way of life that is realistic.

One of her suggestions is that we find “triggers” for prayer in our daily lives. She tells of one woman who prays the Connecticut Turnpike as she commutes to work each day, using tollbooths as markers like beads on a rosary. One person I know offers a prayer for the person(s) in trouble every time she hears a siren. Others set their cell phones to remind them to take just a minute to pray at a regular time during the day. Some people identify a place in their home or school or office building that serves as a reminder to pray every time they pass it. Photos of loved ones on your desk can generate not only a warm feeling, but also a prayer for their welfare and safety. Many of us automatically bow our heads before we begin a meal. Doing laundry can be a trigger to pray for those who will wear the shirt you’re folding. The point is that there are many ways to remind ourselves to take a moment to become conscious of the Holy.

John Wesley, founder of Methodism, once said, “We don’t want to have devotional time. We want a devotional life.” Consider today how you might use activities, places, sounds, and sights to bring an awareness of the Holy into your everyday life.

Friday, March 8, 2013

On a Saturday last fall we celebrated my great nephew’s first birthday. The following Wednesday my brother’s family and I marked what would have been my mother’s 94th birthday, the first one since her death. The cycle of life moved swiftly in our family that week. In all families, we welcome one generation as we say goodbye to another. The Hebrew Bible text for today recalls the story of Joshua’s leadership as the Israelites cross over the Jordan into the land God was giving them. (Joshua 4:14-24) Moses is dead and Joshua is the new leader. This tale recalls the historic crossing of the Red Sea by the Israelites when they were fleeing the armies of Pharaoh. When this river crossing is complete, stones retrieved from the Jordan become a monument to God’s deliverance. When the monument of stones is erected, Joshua explains to the people, “When your children ask their parents, ‘What do these stones mean?’, then you shall let your children know, ‘Israel crossed over the Jordan here on dry ground’…so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty…” (vv.21-24) In reflecting on this story, one Jewish writer suggested that history is only meaningful insofar as it is the common property of its heirs. If true, this means what we’ve learned about life has future significance beyond ourselves only if we share what we’ve learned with others. So when our children or other young people ask us, “What does Pullen mean? What does your faith mean? What does Easter mean?”, what will be our response? Today recall your personal or family stories of faith that need to be shared with the generations who are coming behind you. Then reflect on your personal answer to the question, “What does Easter mean to me?”

Saturday, March 9, 2013

I’ve been watching the pelicans a lot lately. In truth, they are rather gawky-looking birds with bills that seem oversized for their bodies. In addition to this long beak, they have a large throat pouch they use in catching prey and draining water from the scooped up contents before swallowing. Although they are among the heaviest of flying birds, they are actually relatively light because of air pockets in the skeleton and beneath the skin. They can soar to 10,000 feet and commute nearly 100 miles for food. Pelicans are strange birds indeed, but they are beautiful, graceful creatures in flight.

The pelicans have caught my attention because they seem to skim across the waves just a few feet above the water. Then when they see a fish, they fly up into the air and plunge-dive to catch it. It has occurred to me that this method of seeking what we need is a pretty good plan. If we look closely until we find what we want, there is probably a lot of wisdom in then stepping back to view the desired thing from a distance before pursuing it. Seen from a different perspective, the thing we thought we wanted may not be quite all what it seemed to be at short range.

Pondering the pelican is also a good Lenten practice for other reasons. In medieval Europe, this bird was thought to be particularly attentive to her young, to the point of providing her own blood by wounding her breast when no other food was available. As a result, the pelican came to symbolize the death of Jesus and the Eucharist (communion). A reference to this mythical characteristic is even contained in a hymn by Thomas Aquinas, where he describes Christ as the "loving divine pelican, able to provide nourishment from his breast." In fact, what looked like self-wounding was likely the pelican pressing its bill onto its chest in order to fully empty its pouch, or simply the tendency of the bird to rest with its bill on its breast. But this misunderstanding gave rise to powerful images for the Church.

Like the myth about the pelican, the bread and cup in communion don’t have to be literal body and blood in order for them to have meaning for us. Rather they can be symbols of self-giving love whose purpose is to provide nourishment for all who seek it. Today’s invitation is to determine if there are places in your life where you need more distance to make a wise choice and to consider if what you are seeking is truly a source of nourishment for your soul.

Sunday, March 10, 2013 FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT

Sister Joan Chittister calls the Benedictine practice of hospitality the unboundaried heart. “The Benedictine heart,” she says, “is to be a place without boundaries, a place where the truth of the oneness of all things shatters all barriers, a point where all the differences of the world meet and melt…”

Today’s text from Luke (15:1-3, 11b-32) is a story about the unboundaried heart of the father of a young man we have come to know as the Prodigal Son. Lazy, disrespectful, and ungrateful, he was a parents’ nightmare. Whatever values the father had tried to teach his son seem not to have stuck. So the boy goes off to control his own life and spend his fortune as he wishes. We know the outcome. Penniless and eating scraps fed to pigs, the humbled young man decides to come home—and he receives a totally undeserved joyous welcome.

This is one of those stories with rich meaning if we consider all of the characters. “When have I been the Prodigal Son? Am I instead the dutiful, resentful older brother?” are good questions to ask. But on this fourth Sunday in Lent, focus your attention on the actions of the father. How did he get past his own disappointment, self-doubt as a parent, and angry resentment so that he could run, not walk but run, to greet his wayward child with tears and open arms? I think the answer is his unboundaried heart.

Hearts without boundaries change the world. Sister Joan suggests, “Whatever happens to the heart is the beginning of a revolution” because “hospitality of the heart could make my world a world of potential friends rather than a world of probable enemies.” Pray today for a wide-open heart.

Monday, March 11, 2013

We’re not sure what the problem is, but our digital camera sucks up battery life very quickly. We keep replacing the batteries but they don’t last long. Many jobs, families, and/or ways of living are like this. We keep infusing them with a source of energy. But because something isn’t “right,” we keep getting drained. And if we don’t correct the underlying problem that keeps demanding more energy than we have (like whatever is wrong with our camera), we will keep depleting ourselves—buying more batteries, if you will, to keep us going just a bit longer. Our Hebrew Bible text for today is found in Leviticus 23:26-41. It describes God’s instructions to Moses that the Israelites should celebrate a Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) and a Festival of Booths (Sukkot) each year. On Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year, Jews traditionally observe the day with a 25-hour period of fasting and intensive prayer, often spending most of the day in synagogue services. Sukkot lasts seven days and is marked by the building of “booths” intended as a remembrance of the type of fragile dwellings in which the Israelites lived during their 40 years of travel in the desert after the exodus from slavery in Egypt. On both Yom Kippur and on the first day of Sukkot, there is to be no work. As Christians, we don’t typically celebrate these ancient holy days. Yet we have much to learn from them. All of us could use a period of fasting or at least extended meditation and prayer. All of us could benefit from spending time considering the ways that we have been “delivered” from potential harm in the past and the ways that a Holy presence has accompanied us in life. And certainly all of us could draw meaning from a break from daily work that allows us to go deeper into our souls.

This is what Lent is. Most of us can’t miss multiple days from our daily work and other tasks. So our challenge in Lent is to carve out times for reflection and prayer in the context of the lives we actually lead. It is the most important way to find our center and the source of life-long energy. Unlike our camera, our lives can’t be re-energized by something we buy at the store—not really. If you’ve not yet found a way to create a time for reflection in your hectic daily life, it’s not too late to let this Lent be the season when you found a practice that will restore energy to your tired soul.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

During these days, the garden shops are packed. Logan’s, Lowe’s, and all the other stores and nurseries that sell plants and seeds are full of people getting ready to plant their gardens. Some serious gardeners are already tending cool weather vegetables. Others are

awaiting the last frost, ready to get their hands dirty in this year’s garden. Today’s Hebrew Bible text comes once again from the book of Leviticus (25:1-19.) It’s the story of giving rest to the land through the creation of an every-seven-years Sabbath and a 50th Jubilee year. Not only did Yahweh create a Sabbath for humans every seven days, but the land was to receive a rest as well. The seventh year “shall be a year of complete rest for the land.” (v. 5b) Then on the 50th year—following seven Sabbath years—a sacred “Jubilee” was to be proclaimed, a time of freedom and celebration when everyone was to receive back their original property, and slaves were to return home to their families. It is not clear if and how this directive was practiced, but it recognizes the need for both rest and making things fair and just. Today experienced farmers and gardeners know that rotating crops and letting land lie fallow has practical value in maximizing their yield. But from a spiritual perspective, Sabbath rest is important as well. Sabbath is not just a desirable “treat.” It is an essential part of fairness to ourselves and to others. All of us need rest to be our best, most loving selves. All of creation needs time away from the

intense focus on productivity that is part of our Western way of living. If you are not regularly making time for Sabbath rest, consider today how you can make space in your life for meeting this deep need.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

One of the most meaningful aspects of the morning Eucharist at St. Mary’s Abbey was the prayer offered before we gathered in a circle around the altar to share the bread and the cup. It was special because the pray-er was Sister Mary John, the Guest Sister with whom I had communicated via snail mail to arrange our visit—they don’t do email—and the one who shared tea with us on most afternoons. We were surprised to find that she is a native of New York who has spent the last 52 years at the abbey, a portion of those years as the Abbess. In addition to my fondness for who was offering the prayer was the fact that Sister Mary John prayed for so many by name: The Archbishop of Canterbury, the Pope, the Queen, leaders of other Christian groups, Muslims and Jews and persons of other faiths, local Deans and leaders—clergy and lay—in the Anglican churches in the area, people in nations in Africa with whom the Sisters have a relationship, Sisters in the abbey on their anniversaries (both when they took vows and when they died, I think), local people who were ill or had special needs, and each of us who were guests at the abbey. All were prayed for by name. “Ministers Cathy and Felicia” is how she referred to us, and it was deeply moving to have this dear, faithful woman pray for us by name. She included us in her prayer each day we were their guests. For me, Isaiah 43 is one of the most moving passages in our Scriptures. It begins with that wonderful verse, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” (v.1) Hearing our names called by persons who care for us touches our hearts. It’s why we name our Joys and Concerns in worship, not just for information purposes, which is important, but because we want to offer our prayers for them as unique people before God. We call the names of our “saints” on the first Sunday in November as we mark All Saints Day in our desire to celebrate their unique gifts to us and give thanks for those dear to us who have died. If you don’t already have a “prayer list” of people for whom you specifically pray, make one today. Put it in your computer or on a piece of paper. Keep it in your purse or your car, on your desk or by your bed. Then pray regularly for those on your list by name. According to the prophet, God calls us by name. We would do well to do the same for others.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Once upon a time a visitor came to a monastery looking for the purpose and meaning of life. The Teacher said to the visitor, “If what you seek is truth, there is one thing you must have above all else.” “I know,” the visitor said, “To find Truth I must have an overwhelming passion for it.” “No,” the Teacher said, “In order to find Truth, you must have an unremitting readiness to admit you may be wrong.”

This teaching from the Desert Mothers and Fathers comes from Sister Joan Chittister’s book Wisdom Distilled from the Daily:

Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today. Interestingly, she places it in the chapter on “Obedience: Holy Responsibility.” Our modern, American, progressive sensibilities tend to prickle when we hear the word “obedience.” It smacks of being told what to do, following rigid rules, or doing what someone else wants us to do. But Sister Joan uses this story to make an important point about community life, not just in a monastery, but in every real community. We all need the ability to “think thoughts other than our own, other than the past, other than the safe, other than the acceptable that will lead us eventually to truth.” But to accomplish this, we have to deal with our need to control. She notes that our culture trains us in individualism and then condemns us forever to live in groups. One of the critical skills for meaningful community life is listening…to God, to God’s creation, to the community, and to the world in order to grow beyond ourselves and our own whims and wants, which we often confuse with our deep needs. So today, make listening the Lenten practice that is the focus of your day. Listen more and talk less, and see what truth comes to you as a result.

Friday, March 15, 2013

One of my favorite stories from the Cross of Nails Gathering in Coventry last September was told by Emma Griffiths, the CCN staff member whose task is to support the schools that are partnered with CCN. As gregarious a person as you’ll ever meet, Emma led one of our biblical studies on peace. She began by emphasizing the importance of communication. Even in our high tech world, there are major failures to communicate that jeopardize our relationships with others and threaten peace itself.

She then told us about a Chinese entrepreneur who wanted to attract American tourists to his new shop. So he decided to display the English translation of the name of his store so Americans with cash would clearly know what he was selling. A resourceful, tech-savvy young man, the shop owner went to his computer and used Google Translate to get the English translation. Then he

ordered his sign in both Chinese and English. We all roared with laughter when she showed us a picture of the man’s shop with its English name in large, bold letters: “Translate Server Error.” How often do we fail to communicate even with people who speak our own language? We speak too soon, or not soon enough. We project feelings and beliefs onto others without listening to what they are really saying. We fear trusting others, sometimes for good reason and sometimes not, and choose not to reveal what is truly on our hearts. Or we refuse to listen at all. This Lenten journey is a time for self-examination. It’s a time for looking deep into our hearts at who we are and what our souls need to thrive. In one of your periods of spiritual reflection, consider your communication patterns, with whom you can talk openly, and where you struggle. What makes some conversations effective and others not? Then open yourself to learning whatever this reflection may teach you.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

It is likely that many among us will spend a portion of this day either preparing to plant a garden, enjoying the approach of spring by being outdoors, or gazing through a window at the greening of the earth. Lent is a private garden we can enter if we choose. So I share this poem chosen by sculptress Anna Hyatt Huntington to be placed at the gate of Brookgreen Gardens in 1959—and ask that you overlook the male references to God used at the time. Brookgreen is located near Murrell’s Inlet, S.C., and includes an unparalleled collection of outdoor sculpture, many by Ms. Huntington, beautiful gardens, and centuries-old live oak trees.

Inscription for a Garden Gate

Pause, friend, and read before you enter here This vine-clad wall encloses holy ground. Herein a mellowed garden dreams away the years, Steeped in serene, sweet light and muted sound. Herein tranquility and peace abide, For God walks here at cool of evening-tide. Pause, friend, and strip from out your heart All vanity, bitterness, all hate; Quench, for this hour, the fever of your fears. Then, treading softly, pass within this gate. There, where the ancient trees wait hushed and dim, May you find God and walk awhile with Him.

Pearl Council Hiatt

Sunday, March 17, 2013 FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT

Our Gospel lectionary text for today (John 12:1-8) includes a verse I believe is the most harmful thing Jesus ever said. I understand why he said it, but I wish he hadn’t. There must have been another way he could have responded to Judas’ complaint about the cost of the perfume. Surely there were other ways to support Mary’s gracious act of washing his feet. But, no, Jesus had to say this: “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” Easily understood in context, this verse has been used for generations as an excuse for not worrying about the poor. That’s not what Jesus meant, of course. He meant that this expensive treat was preparation for his upcoming burial and that Mary’s act of using the costly perfume to wash his feet was a generous and loving thing to do. We at Pullen understand that we are called to a ministry that feeds, heals, and supports those without resources and challenges governments and society through advocacy for systemic change. We are called to have not only a vision but also a voice, says Sister Joan Chittister. We are called “not only to care for the victims of the world but to change the systems that victimize them.” This is our task as we follow Jesus and his friends through Lent and into the future. In her book In the Heart of the Temple: My Spiritual Vision for Today’s World, Sister Joan tells one of the stories of the Desert Mothers and Fathers:

Daily the lame and the beggars and the beaten came past the seeker’s prayer rug. Seeing them, the seeker went down deep into prayer and cried, “Great God! If you are such a great God, how is it that a loving creator can see such things and do nothing about them?” And out of the long silence, the voice of God came back: “I did something about them. I made you.”

Consider today where you can use your gifts and resources as an offering to relieve poverty so that someday the poor will no longer be with us.

Monday, March 18, 2013

The ocean is so calm today that there is a 1-2 second silent pause between the waves. It’s like nature’s momentary rest. It’s very brief, but very potent. Hearing the crashing of the waves is always wonderful. It’s like the ocean’s music that never ends, music that reminds us of God’s constant presence and nature’s reliability. But there is something about the pause between the waves’ crash, that second or two of silence, that seems full. It’s like the “pregnant pause” we speak of when it’s quiet, but something very important is in the quiet. Today the psalmist offers a prayer for us: “May God grant you your heart’s desire, and fulfill all your plans.” (Psalm 20: 4) For most of us, some kind of quiet, some kind of deep reflection is needed to know what the desires of our hearts really are. The maker of every product and service imaginable is eager to tell you—perhaps a new car, a massage, a second home, the latest or biggest electronic gadget, or even a new job or partner or child. How do we know what will truly feed our souls and sustain us when life gets difficult? What people, places, or experiences will nurture our healthiest, most creative, most life-giving selves? Some people are lucky enough or wise enough or something enough to go through life very clear about the answers to these questions. Bless them. But for most of us, life is hectic and complicated and challenging enough that we need to peel away the junk to know what our heart’s desires truly are. Today try to find a few moments to ponder what is most important to you at this moment in your life. Allow the remainder of this Lenten season to be the pause between the waves when our hearts’ desires can be named and claimed for the future.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

In a fascinating book about introversion entitled Quiet, author Susan Cain describes a transition we Americans have experienced in the last 100 years. Citing the work of cultural historian Walter Susman, Cain explains that prior to the 20th century, Americans promoted a Culture of Character in which the ideal person was serious, disciplined, and honorable. What counted was not as much the impression you made in public as how you behaved in private. But a new culture thrives today, often to our detriment. During the last century, the focus shifted from inner character to external perception and Americans began to focus on performance and self-presentation. Our country now embraces a Culture of Personality, a word that didn’t exist in English until the 18th century. The Industrial Revolution, urbanization, and other historical developments contributed to this transition from a focus on what’s on the inside of a person to what is perceived from the outside. The result is a culture fixated on personality and how each of us is perceived by others. Not all of this change is bad, of course, but this cultural ideal of a “performing self” has pushed introverts and extroverts alike into the adoption of ways of being in the world that too often fail to reflect our truest selves. The purpose of an inward journey in Lent or at any other time is to peel back the layers of culture and presentation to find one’s true self—to listen to one’s heart, to be truly honest, and to open ourselves in order to hear God’s heart speaking to our own. The Holy One is not looking for a performance. We are loved as we are completely and eternally. This doesn’t mean there aren’t ways we relate to loved ones and strangers alike that need attention. We all have work to do. But know today that you are loved as you are. No fabricated persona is required. The One to whom Jesus pointed throughout his ministry and even from the cross cares deeply for the real you.

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

According to the Gospels, Jesus is eight days away from his death. In today’s text, he explains what is going to happen when they get to Jerusalem, but his disciples don’t understand it. (Luke 18:31-34) That may have been a good thing. If they’d known what was coming, they may not have gone with him.

From our vantage point, it seems that Jesus had a lot of choices here, with going to Jerusalem only one of them. He could have headed in the other direction, up to Galilee perhaps, to continue his healing and teaching. Out in the countryside there were certainly good things left for him to do. He could have gone to the home of his friends Mary and Martha to rest for a while. Surely he was due for a break. In fact, a variety of seemingly good, worthwhile choices were available to him when he set his course toward Jerusalem. This is how it often is with us. Says Sister Joan Chittister in reflecting on her early days in the monastery, “The great problem of the spiritual life, I soon learned, was not the problem of choosing good from bad. Learning to choose good from bad was, in fact,

deceptively easy. There are few who steal, few who lie. There are not too many of us with uncontrollable tempers or destructive jealousies…No, I soon learned, the real problem of the spiritual life was not rooted in having too learn to avoid evil and choose good; the real problem lay in having to learn to choose good from good…What makes the spiritual life different from any other life?...The answer is it is what we are and how we do what we do that is the mark of the spiritual life. It is what we are while we are doing whatever we do…” For some people, often because they live in desperate conditions, it is hard to choose what is good. For some, it’s challenging not to steal or abuse others. Addictions certainly make it hard not to drink too much or use illegal drugs or overuse legal ones. But for many people, the real challenge is in choosing among good options. “Where is the highest good?” is an ongoing question for many of us.

We can only find the answer to this question from a centered place. So today find time to think about where you are being called to make a choice among good things. Then find a quiet place where you can reflect on what that choice needs to be.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Hanging alongside the Cross of Nails in the tiny theological reading room of the CCN Centre in Sibiu/Hermannstadt, Romania, is this prayer: Lord, make us one. Do not make us like them, Do not make them like us, But make us all more like you. Amen. Reconciliation among people who are different can be a challenging obstacle to peace in our world. The topic of diversity and how we respond to it is a critical issue in an increasingly multicultural United States. Interfaith dialogue is a goal of most progressive people of faith, but the issue of how much we should retain our distinctiveness in this dialogue is also challenging. So this prayer seems like a

good word for us today. I don’t need to be just like you nor do you need to be just like me in order for us to share common goals for our communities and our world. But seeing the sacred in each other is essential. So is behavior that is more gracious that what passes for much interaction in our culture. In his book about CCN, Oliver Schuegraf points out that hospitality is one step on the way to real dialogue with people who are different from us. Benedictine spirituality would say the same. So today you might ponder where you find relationships difficult because of differences between you and others. Then think about what Christ-like qualities would help bridge those differences. In the words of Stephan, a pastor from a CCN partner in Germany, “Jesus isn’t the fulfiller of our wishes—unless our wishes are

what God wants.” What does God want for you today? for our world?

Friday, March 22, 2013

“God made us a beautiful world, meadow and tree and hill.

What can (God’s) children do to make it more beautiful still?” This is a song I learned as a child in Sunday school. It was obviously hidden in the depths of my memory, but I haven’t recalled it in many decades. But this time at the beach, with its daily beauty, brought these words back to me. Now I can’t get it out of my head—nor would I want to. What I find interesting about the words is the question it posed in the 1950s—and perhaps earlier: What can we do to make this world more beautiful? It’s a consummate environmentalist’s question. It’s a fundamental dilemma in the quest for an eco-spirituality that honors our relationship with God and creation. Then there are those lines from a youth musical we sang when I was a teenager: “O God of the stars, the sun and the moon, O God of the wind and the sea; Though you’re everywhere how amazing it is that you can be here with me.” Unlike the childhood tune, these words come to mind every time I gaze at the ocean when I first arrive at the beach. That the God of stars, the sun, the moon, the wind, and the sea is indeed present and concerned about my little world is still stunning to me.

In these Lenten days, getting in touch with the “kingdom of God within you”—touching that place where the Holy resides in each of us—is a central task. But Lent also invites us to stand in utter amazement at the glorious beauty of God’s Creation. Our lives are so hectic that it’s easy to drive past this season’s budding trees and blooming flowers without really seeing them. It’s easy to get so caught up in our daily work that we forget to appreciate the rain and the fertile earth that produce food and beauty in a short time. And it’s also easy to be drawn into the needs of humanity so deeply that we miss hearing the cries of the planet. So on this Lenten day, take a moment to open your eyes to the beauty around you and say a prayer that you will be inspired to do your part in caring for it.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Bells give order to the life of the Benedictine community at St. Mary’s Abbey. The large bell over the chapel calls the community to prayer seven times a day. A small dinner bell is rung in the guest house to call visitors to meals. These bells mark time, but they also indicate what needs to be done. They tell the community inside the walls of the abbey when it’s time to gather for prayer or table fellowship. The large bell tells the entire village of West Malling that the sisters are gathering for prayer. In our psalm for the day, the psalmist is in a pretty miserable state. (Psalm 31:9-16) Sorrow, rejection, and grief have been the

writer’s lot recently. This is truly a psalm of lament. In fact, this kind of psalm makes up about a third of the psalms in the Hebrew Bible. They typically name before God the bad things that have happened. “I need to be sure you know what I’ve been enduring,” the psalmists seem to say to God in anguished prayers for healing, for support, for restoration, or for safety. But these psalms also tend to end with an affirmation of the goodness of God. “My life is hard,” says Psalm 31, “But I trust in you, O God; I say ‘My times are in your hand.’” (vv.14-15)

Most of us tend to do our most earnest praying when times are tough. But the rhythm of the bells calling the Sisters to prayer reminded me that all of our times—the wonderful as well as the dreadful—are in God’s hand. This is not to say the Holy One

causes everything to happen to us. Rather it is an affirmation that whatever befalls us, each moment of each day of our lives is held in the steadfast love of God.

Sunday, March 24, 2013 PALM SUNDAY

The sign on the gate said “Private.” The boundary was clear, but it occurred to me that in the U.S. we are more direct. Most of our signs say “No Trespassing.” Or even the more aggressive version I saw at the entrance to a residential area: “Residents Only: Others will be prosecuted.” Amazing the difference in tone. Today is Palm Sunday when Jesus is paraded through a section of Jerusalem as if he is a king. (Luke 19:28-40) It’s a very public entrance into a week full of very public activities. Yet among the events when large crowds are present, there are many intimate moments. His friend Mary anoints his feet with perfume and dries them with her own hair. What we know as the “Last Supper” is apparently a very small celebration of the Passover for Jesus and his closest friends that roots them in their history and unites all but one of them in a deep bond. Jesus, the leader, stoops to wash the feet of his followers. His prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane are painfully honest. He speaks from the cross to his loved ones just before his death. His friends lovingly prepare his body for burial. All are private moments in the midst of the public final week of Jesus’ life. As the final week of this year’s Lenten season, the coming days are an invitation to find time for private moments for reflection and prayer. What awareness has come to you during the preceding five weeks? Is there new insight to recall and perhaps even to write down? Is there some seed germinating in you that needs to be watered and tended? Are there new questions about faith or theology or your personal life that you want to carry with you from Lent into the weeks and months to come? Today we focus on the parade. In worship our children will wave palm branches and shout “Hosanna!” “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” was the refrain of the psalmist that was echoed by the crowd in Jerusalem. But in the private place in your heart, know that you are also blessed on this Palm Sunday.

Monday, March 25, 2013

This week we call “Holy” is focused on the cross, which is less comfortable for a lot of Pullen people than it is for many Christians. Many of us don’t like the violence of it all and aren’t sure what we believe about the cross anyway. If you’re one of those people, Sister Joan Chittister shares what all of the crosses that adorn her monastery represent for her. She says, “As life goes on and on, it becomes clearer and clearer that the cross is not a dark aspect of religion. It is, on the contrary, the one hope we have that our own lives can move through difficulty to triumph. It’s the one thing that enables us to hang on and not give up when hanging on seems impossible and giving up seems imperative. The cross is our one proof of human possibility…The cross says that we can rise if we can only endure.” It invites us to die to things that keep us from living the fullness of life. Sister Joan goes on to note that there are some things in life that cannot be avoided, like death, illness, change, and disappointment to name just a few. What each of these experiences does to us depends on how we have learned to deal with lesser things. If we need instant, positive results, life quickly teaches us that this is not possible in many situations. Some things must simply be endured and, if we’re open, we can learn from them. In order to learn, we have to stick with a situation and see it through, whatever that means in a given instance. Says Sister Joan, “Not every question reveals itself at once. Not every effort succeeds at first attempt. Not every good thing that happens, happens without persistent purpose and continual failure.” What we need, therefore, is steady attention. “Life is a package to be opened in its entirety, not a smorgasbord to be sampled as it suits us.” As you go through your day, consider recommitting yourself to growing where you are—with these people, in this place, at this time. You may discern that change is needed in the future, but for today, invest where you are. Then consider if the cross could be a symbol of the life that is possible if you engage deeply in the challenges life gives you, whether you desire them or not.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The ocean feels friendly when it’s calm, but can be quite frightening when it’s not, as names like Fran, Floyd, and Sandy remind us. Water out of control can be devastating. I think that’s true in our lives as well, which is why we humans have such a strong desire for control. Certainly some of us have higher control needs than others. At some level, however, we all find it frustrating for things that impact our lives to be happening around us over which we have little or no control. And yet it seems that we live in a culture that places little value on self-control. The “letting it all hang out” of the ‘60s has morphed into a privacy-less world where people share the most intimate details of their lives with the world via social media. These days many people view rules and boundaries regarding everything from sex to taxes as restrictions on personal freedom. Today’s lectionary text tells the story of Greeks who wished to see Jesus. (John 12:20-36) His compelling reply explains that some sacrifice is required for one to follow him: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if dies, it bears much fruit.” (v. 24) This deep level of self-giving seems to require a willingness to admit that we are not in control of anything beyond ourselves. Just as we can’t control a Hurricane Sandy, we also can’t control the behavior of those closest to us. What we do have control of is how we respond to those things that are beyond our influence. All wisdom teachers have told us this, but it may be one of life’s most difficult lessons to learn. During this Holy Week as we move with Jesus and his friends from a parade to an execution, ponder where you might need to give up an urgency to have control and where you might sacrifice a bit of yourself in order to “bear fruit.”

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

According to our sacred Scripture, this has been quite a week for Jesus and his followers. It begins with a parade in his honor but goes downhill after that. Even in the midst of the festivities we mark as Palm Sunday, there is a cloud hanging over Jesus. He’s already told his closest friends that he is going to Jerusalem to be killed like other prophets. Some try to persuade him not to go, but he won’t be deterred. What our Gospel lectionary text for today adds is that Jesus’ death is made easier for his enemies through the help of one of his friends. (John 13:21-32) The theories are legion about why Judas betrayed Jesus. Some say it was part of God’s plan. Some say Judas wanted a Messiah who would overthrow Rome through violence if necessary. Others suggest that he might have just needed the cash. Whatever the reason, he betrayed not only Jesus, but also all those who were part of the community that included the twelve named disciples and the women and men who were close to Jesus. Betrayal hurts. In whatever form it comes, to have a loved one break trust with us is one of the most painful things we can experience. People disappoint us all the time. Disagreement with others is common. As a result, sometimes we protect ourselves

because we’re not sure whether someone we care for is truly trustworthy. But to have someone who is part of our inner circle, someone who has shared life with us, someone we’ve grown to trust betray us is a soul-deep pain from which some people never recover. Was this what Jesus was feeling? I wonder how much he knew ahead of time. Did he know for months that Judas was a traitor? Jesus’ ministry was very public so he couldn’t have been hard for the authorities to find. Why did they even need help from one of Jesus’ closest friends? As you journey with Jesus toward the end of his life, consider this issue of betrayal. What causes it and how can we keep ourselves from breaking trust with those we love?

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Today is Maundy Thursday, which is also known as “Holy Thursday.” Most scholars agree that the English word Maundy is derived from the Latin mandatum, the first word of the Latin version of "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you." (John 13:34) This is how Jesus explained the significance of washing his disciples’ feet after they celebrated Passover together on the night before he was killed. This evening we will gather in the Pullen sanctuary to remember that on this night Jesus shared his last meal with his closest

friends. It’s also the meal we remember each time we receive communion. Why do we do this? Why does it really matter that we come together as a community on this evening to recall what happened the night before Jesus was crucified? There are many theological answers to this question and even more personal ones. Fellowship around a meal was and a still is a hallmark of community life. We share our food and our lives when we eat a meal together. And especially if we think we are about to lose a loved one, sharing intimate time with him or her is often our highest priority. So the meal represents the devotion of friends to one another and the memory of meals we’ve shared together in the past.

The meal also represents the courage of one with a Divine mission. Jesus and his followers would be easy to find if Herod or the leaders of the synagogue went looking

for them. But it was important for them to share the Passover meal together and to remember when Yahweh delivered their ancestors from slavery in Egypt. Like bold people of faith who have come after him, Jesus did not stop doing what he was called to do in spite of the risks. According to John’s gospel, he also had a few things left to say to those dearest to him. So Jesus explains that “people will know you are my disciples if you love one another,” and then he washes their feet to show what that caring, humble love looks like. Maundy Thursday is a call to remember. We remember the courage of one who worked daily at building the commonwealth of God regardless of the cost. We recall the love of one who showed us what real loving looks like by caring for not just his friends but also the poor and marginalized of his day. We are also reminded that ritual, the act of remembering together with those we love, binds us to each other in deeply meaningful and often mysterious ways. So wherever you are on this evening—with your Pullen family or elsewhere, don’t forget the “new commandment” that we love one another. Then recommit yourself to this kind of love.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Today our lectionary text leads us on a journey that is familiar to most of us. (John 18:1-19:42) In this lengthy passage, Jesus moves from his heart-wrenching prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane and his betrayal by Judas to his arrest and appearance before Pilate. His crucifixion and burial follow. We also learn of his friend Peter’s denial that he knew Jesus and the gifts of a burial site and spices to prepare his body from his friends Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Even without its theological significance these scenes provide a story worthy of Hollywood’s best. But what is its theological significance? Or more directly, via Good Friday’s most-provoked question, why did Jesus have to die? Was it because he proclaimed a kingdom of love that would not be controlled by the violence of Rome? Because Rome might punish all of the Jews as a result of Jesus’ traitorous claims? Because he interrupted orderly religious practice and threatened the status quo? The common view of a Jesus sent by God as a sacrifice for our sins took a thousand years to develop and it’s not the only one out there, contrary to what you hear from some quarters of Christianity. There are other ways to give meaning to the events of this week. Reflecting on what the crucifixion of Jesus means to you is a valuable task on this Good Friday. But as you do, take the advice of some progressive Christians: If your theory of the cross completely contradicts everything Jesus stood for and taught, you might want to re-think it. The gospel is rooted in love of enemies, not in responding to violence with violence. Marcus Borg and others suggest that Jesus died because of human sin, not in the place of humans who sin. As you ponder the events of this day and what they mean for your life and the life of the world, also consider how it felt to the friends of Jesus to see his life come to an end.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it,” says writer Joan Didion in The Year of Magical Thinking, her book about the sudden death of her husband of forty years. Today is Holy Saturday, the day after the crucifixion of Jesus. As far as anyone knows, the man who fed the hungry, healed the sick, stood up for the poor, and proclaimed a new world order where all would be fed, healthy, and have what they need is dead. Buried in a tomb with a guard at the entrance. Gone from the world and never to return.

It is hard for us to imagine the grief, fear, and even anger Jesus’ friends and followers feel on this sad day. For some it is the loss of a close personal friend they loved. For thousands it is the loss of a teacher, a healer, a prophet. For all it is a loss of hope. Just when they were beginning to believe things might change, he was gone. There had to be fear as well. If the Romans killed Jesus, would they pursue his followers next? Peter was worried enough to deny that he even knew Jesus when challenged the night before the crucifixion. Certainly others were afraid for their lives. And there may have been some anger as well—at the Romans, the religious leaders, and even at Jesus himself. You can imagine some of the disciples thinking, “I left everything—family, work, home—to follow this man because I thought he could change things. What do I do now?” Some of us are disappointed when political or business or religious leaders don’t make the changes they promised to make. Can we imagine how the disciples felt when this man who claimed to be God’s messenger, the Messiah the Jews had awaited, died just like any other human would?

Today, as you reflect on what Easter means for you, put yourself in the place of the followers of Jesus on the day before Easter. Consider how hopeless and afraid they felt. Then remember those around the world who yearn for a “messiah” who will relieve their suffering and end the oppression that is their daily reality. Pray for those who are grieving, including yourself, and consider ways you can offer hope for those who experience hopelessness like the friends of Jesus did on this day. Take comfort in confidence of the today’s psalmist, who says, “My times are in your hand.” (Psalm 31:15) This is also the one Jesus draws upon for his final prayer: “Into your hands I commit my spirit.” (v. 5)

Sunday, March 31, 2013 EASTER

“Christ the Lord is risen today! Alleluia!” In worship on this Easter Sunday, these words will resound in a Pullen sanctuary full of people. There is always joy on Easter Sunday even though some of us aren’t quite sure what we believe about it. Our lectionary texts from John 20:1-18 or Luke 24:1-12 tell the story of the women coming to the tomb and finding that Jesus is not there. In John’s gospel, they actually meet Jesus who shows them the nail scars in his hands and feet to prove who he is. In Luke’s account, the women report what they found to the men, who don’t believe them, and Peter goes to the tomb to see for himself. None of them encountered Jesus that day in Luke’s version of the story.

So did he literally rise from the dead and live again? Many in our 21st century scientific age doubt it while others believe it really happened even if they can’t explain it. But whatever we believe about a literal bodily resurrection, there is not much doubt that the disciples believed he did. They had seen him die on a cross, that terrible means of execution saved for criminals who were especially dangerous to the empire. And yet they also saw the empty tomb with their own eyes and later they met him in person.

Today’s question is this: Does it matter if Jesus was not physically resurrected? Does it change what we believe about him? For their part, the disciples believed it. Then they acted upon this belief and changed the world. Two thousand years later we’re still talking about Jesus, debating, even arguing about him. Why? Because of how Jesus lived rather than how he died.

So today as you celebrate Easter—and as you anticipate the new life that will soon come out of the ground in the many gardens planted around our community—reflect on what happens when people seriously believe life can overcome death. Join the friends of Jesus in acting as if this can happen even when there are signs to the contrary. Then commit yourself to act as if the loving, just commonwealth of God proclaimed by Jesus is already here. In the words from a stanza of our Easter hymn not included in our hymnal: “Thus to sing, and thus to love! Alleluia!”

References in the preceding meditations come from the following:

Cain, Susan. Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (New York: Crown Publishers), 2012.

Chittister, Joan OSB. Wisdom Distilled from the Daily: Living the Rule of St. Benedict Today (San Francisco: Harper), 1991.

Chittister, Joan OSB. In the Heart of the Temple: My Spiritual Vision for Today’s World (New York: BlueBridge), 2004.

Didion, Joan. The Year of Magical Thinking (New York: Alfred A. Knopf), 2005.

Jamison, Christopher. Finding Sanctuary: Monastic Steps for Everyday Life (Collegeville, Minn: Liturgical Press), 2006.

Schuegraf, Oliver. The Cross of Nails: Joining in God’s Mission of Reconciliation (Norfolk, UK: Canterbury Press Norwich), 2012.

Ware, Corinne. St. Benedict on the Freeway: A Rule of Life for the 21st Century (Nashville: Abingdon Press), 2001.