tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19842125665319049192024-03-17T17:55:20.873-04:00Words Half HeardHow much of what we believe is half-heard, second-hand, unexamined? In my years of youth ministry and college teaching I’ve heard lots of questions and offered some answers. But there are issues I’ve never thought through and areas in my life that don’t yet reflect God’s glory. Prophetic imagination, creative community, restorative justice, sacrificial stewardship: what does daily obedience look like? And how do we get there?Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comBlogger403125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-23680521354093154642024-03-17T17:49:00.003-04:002024-03-17T17:54:48.834-04:00Lenten Pause<div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-3b36ce46-7fff-c6b9-ec50-a8d2ddfcb331"><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnho8wkAI770DOH2-o5-6diMW8QO1wUC4HfFstK8Vf6mj8idpUUW4NWENNi5hi43I_2tG1A_qzIdXvOyHwQBrIsU9m9VZYJiKkns51tk9mCGA6LPpC7BGRtAPntkDHP0-HVwUb-Kn4mZ2sc72Vm-QM1tb0DfoggsSPbJCYMemGWgyq9ZlFVNZ-21a0EEE/s3679/IMG_3875.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3679" data-original-width="2399" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnho8wkAI770DOH2-o5-6diMW8QO1wUC4HfFstK8Vf6mj8idpUUW4NWENNi5hi43I_2tG1A_qzIdXvOyHwQBrIsU9m9VZYJiKkns51tk9mCGA6LPpC7BGRtAPntkDHP0-HVwUb-Kn4mZ2sc72Vm-QM1tb0DfoggsSPbJCYMemGWgyq9ZlFVNZ-21a0EEE/w261-h400/IMG_3875.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>In January I was asked to write an article about Lent for our church's quarterly magazine. I was happy to put into words my own plans for a season of quiet. I was hoping for time to reflect and pray. I'd been thinking about how much confidence we often put in our own narrow perspectives. I'd been lamenting the ways we so often jump to conclusions about the people we meet, the ideas we hear. My goal for the new year was to spend more time in review. Lent seemed like the ideal time. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">
</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But my Lent turned out much busier than I planned. My hope of a blog post every Sunday was buried under unreturned emails and unexpected challenges. I had my own idea of what a Lenten pause might look like. Instead, it felt more like spinning my wheels, or struggling to catch my breath. It occurs to me, as I write this, that I was planning Lent around myself. So I pause now to repent.
Below is what I wrote.</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-family: verdana; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">________________________________________</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We move fast, speak quickly, scroll past anything that doesn’t instantly grab our attention. We answer without fully hearing the question. We argue without acknowledging any value in alternate points of view. We want what we want as quickly as possible and object when lines are long or wait times infringe on our overly-full schedules. The world is a fast-paced drama with us always at the center. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lent invites us to hit the pause button. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To stop and listen. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To set down our agendas, our expectations, and simply wait. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lent invites us to be still, and remember: we are not God. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lent begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday. It’s 40 days if Sundays aren't counted. Sundays are little Easters, feast days, even in the midst of fasting. So Lent invites us to 40 days of fasting, prayer, and reflection, punctuated by the little Easters and ending with the greatest celebration of the Christian calendar, the day of resurrection.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">40 is a number found often in scripture. The 40</span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> days and 40 nights of </span><a href="https://www.bibleref.com/Genesis/7/Genesis-7-12.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Genesis 7:12</span></a><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">). Moses' 40 years in the desert tending flocks (</span><a href="https://www.bibleref.com/Acts/7/Acts-7-30.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Acts 7:30</span></a><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">). The 40 days and 40 nights Moses spent on the mountain waiting for God to speak (</span><a href="https://www.bibleref.com/Exodus/24/Exodus-24-18.html" style="text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Exodus 24:18</span></a><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">). The 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lent nods at all of those, as well as others. If you want more, head to <a href="http://BibleGateway.com">BibleGateway.com</a> and search for “forty”. But the primary purpose of Lent is to remember Jesus’ own 40 days of preparation before the start of his public ministry. That time is described in Matthew 4. After fasting 40 days and forty nights, he was tempted in the wilderness. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jesus had no doubt been preparing all of his life for the work he came to do. He told his mother as much when he was just a boy, lingering in the temple in Jerusalem when his family headed home without him. Yet, immediately after his baptism by his cousin John the Baptist, he spent the next 40 days alone. No phone. No crowd. No agenda other than prayer. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The liturgical calendar consistently invites us to live in a strange uncharted space, oriented toward events of the past, promises of the future, and a present that looks toward past and future but also outward, toward the work of God in the world, and inward, toward the work of God in the deepest, least explored parts of our own hearts.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In the Biblical wilderness experience, there are repeated strands of deprivation, testing, uncertainty, humility. And the one overarching question: will you set down your own plans, your own ideas, your own perceptions, and trust yourself to God?</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Check Jesus’ answers in the face of temptation. Invited to demonstrate his own power, he refuses: </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">It is written: 'Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’</span></span></li></ul></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It’s curious. In many ways, in all the important ways, Jesus IS the center of the story of scripture, what TS Eliot called “the still point in the turning world.” Yet when tempted to make that visible, he chose not to. He chose to fast, to pray, to wait, and then to set God the Father, and his word, in the center of the story. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We fast during Lent to remind us: we do not live on bread alone, but on the word of God. Bread is a placeholder for whatever it is we rely on more than God, whatever it is we turn to for comfort, pleasure, that dopamine feeling that things are okay. How can we step back from that? How can we limit or eliminate it? How can we ask God to lessen its grip so we can find space to listen better?</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We pray during Lent to rearrange our priorities. Our prayers are too often little tests for God. Can you heal me? Can you help me? Can you fix this mess I’m in? Those prayers are all valid, all needed, but Lent invites us to see ourselves on God’s eternal timeline instead of caught in the troubles of today. Where have we been so intent on our own solutions we’ve forgotten to ask for God’s? Where have we been so focused on our own problems we’ve forgotten to focus on God instead, and the love we’re called to share with others who grieve and doubt and suffer?'</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We wait during Lent. We wait remembering all the times God moved and acted in the lives of his people throughout the sweep of scripture. We wait remembering God’s faithfulness across the many centuries since. We wait remembering all God has done in our own lives, and the lives of those we love. And we wait, remembering that Jesus died, rose again, and will return one day to dry our tears and establish a never-ending kingdom of grace and justice and joy. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There’s a growing body of research exploring the value of uncertainty, wait times, and pauses. If we think we know exactly what comes next, we fall into something called cognitive entrenchment. We think we know the ending. We believe we control the outcome. We see exactly what we expect to see and discount what doesn’t fit the map already present in our minds. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasqmTwa2hvwplvwwOu1RLcU9voOyLlnXJwlb8EKBp0QqxlxoyT7XiG33XwTeNfwhlZDDAnECE8AbNH0mF3NBF0vscOUygJuscSRBLlG8vsyRgt4L3BUPDi_Xc8ly0vuT8iz2RUgVhOuuR3ptwj7AODIfAzN16OapPF4EsL0Nwv46IFFfWGjMN4cAWJFk/s2097/IMG_3876.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2097" data-original-width="1378" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasqmTwa2hvwplvwwOu1RLcU9voOyLlnXJwlb8EKBp0QqxlxoyT7XiG33XwTeNfwhlZDDAnECE8AbNH0mF3NBF0vscOUygJuscSRBLlG8vsyRgt4L3BUPDi_Xc8ly0vuT8iz2RUgVhOuuR3ptwj7AODIfAzN16OapPF4EsL0Nwv46IFFfWGjMN4cAWJFk/w263-h400/IMG_3876.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>When we think we already know what’s next, we miss the new, the unexpected. </span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Which may mean we also miss seeing God at work. We’re already so sure what God </span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">should </span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">be doing, we miss what’s unfolding right before our eyes. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Pharisees knew their scriptures cold. They had studied, memorized, debated, analyzed. For most of them, Jesus simply didn’t fit. Their messiah would be a military leader, a warrior king full of strength and zeal, ready to judge sinners, conquer enemies, and reward the pious leaders. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Instead, Jesus came to bring good news to the poor, to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives and freedom to prisoners. Some who had been waiting for the Messiah saw and rejoiced. Some who had been waiting missed him entirely, so angry at his failure to meet their expectations that they plotted together to kill him. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Lent reminds us: we are not God. And we are not the ones who set the course, solve the riddles, hold the answers. We are people on a journey, waiting for direction. There is joy in taking time to listen well. There is danger in expecting we know what’s next and hurrying forward too quickly. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center; white-space-collapse: collapse;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">________________________________________</span></span></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: collapse;"></div><div style="color: black; font-family: Times; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: collapse;"></div></span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #081c2a; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Easter is now just two weeks away. I'm still finding it hard to slow down, pause, listen, wait. But even so, I hold the good news closely. I am not God. I don't know what's next.
I also don't know when the slow times will be. I know they'll come, but maybe when I least expect it. I rest when I can, run when I must, practice prayer along the way. I'm not the one writing this story.</span><span style="color: #081c2a; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> I'm invited to be part of it, to turn the next page and see where it leads. For that I'm thankful. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></div></span>
<div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #222222; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">__________________________________________________________</span></span></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></div><div style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-weight: normal;"><i>The paintings on this page were commissioned as stations of the cross by our church, <a href="https://www.good-samaritan.org/index.php/about" target="_blank">the Church of Good Samaritan, </a>and painted by my daughter, <a href="https://www.annakocher.com/" target="_blank">Anna Kocher.</a> They are on display at our church every Lent. This year they've also been the focus of a weekly evening of prayer, reflection, soup and bread, and were used as cover and back of a Lenten devotional, Journey through Lent 2024. I'm thankful for a church that does it's best to welcome and nurture a wide variety of gifts. </i></span></div><p></p></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-20605419325773323412024-02-11T17:52:00.001-05:002024-02-11T17:52:17.450-05:00Gerry's Ashes<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some days I marvel at the intersection of threads in my life. Marvel, lament, give thanks and wonder. <br /><br />Today is very much one of those days. <br /><br />First, it's the Sunday before Ash Wednesday, so I was reviewing past blog posts on Ash Wednesday and Lent and came across one from 2017: <a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/search?q=ash+wednesday" target="_blank">Start with Repentance.</a> I've just been writing a report that has me digging through records from that year, so it was interesting to reflect back on that time and what I was thinking.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUYV52_LFcIp60QqfMKl8ihn7eOsfGp6VehZjqNpaO8Dl6y_A37sZfSU3Ky_BSKW-hLs8lkZaCke_ojbf5h34JsXEbtgfq8YXMnqbVmWRpf-RZ5T3fqQBA1-QlRuXEaqP8a3I3s7-zxJtdhc7iKMbBtm6IzS2cP1dI31zorv7IP-0dPGfw51Z1CPeZYs/s800/Gerry%20plus%20salamander.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUYV52_LFcIp60QqfMKl8ihn7eOsfGp6VehZjqNpaO8Dl6y_A37sZfSU3Ky_BSKW-hLs8lkZaCke_ojbf5h34JsXEbtgfq8YXMnqbVmWRpf-RZ5T3fqQBA1-QlRuXEaqP8a3I3s7-zxJtdhc7iKMbBtm6IzS2cP1dI31zorv7IP-0dPGfw51Z1CPeZYs/w400-h400/Gerry%20plus%20salamander.png" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I had helped start an organization called <a href="https://www.fairdistrictspa.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Fair Districts PA</span> </a>the January before, and by February 2017 I was drawn deep into work I had not imagined. I was speaking to packed auditoriums, preparing for interviews, talking with legislators and struggling to build a cohesive structure for hundreds of brand-new volunteers. I didn't realize until just this week: our fledgling speakers bureau presented information at over 400 events in 2017 to over 18,000 people. I had no idea we grew that fast. I have no idea how I survived it.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Second, today is the 212th anniversary of Elbridge Gerry's signing of the distorted district map that was yielded the word "Gerrymandering." (The full Smithsonian backstory on that is available <a href="https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/where-did-term-gerrymander-come-180964118/" target="_blank">here.)</a> A decade ago I had never even heard the word - or if I had, it hadn't registered. Now, I've explained gerrymandering and the harm it does in churches, classrooms, restaurants, Rotaries, libraries, living rooms and more, from Philadelphia to Scranton to Erie to Pittsburgh and dozens of towns and cities in between. Distorted districts, drawn to benefit one party, or to keep incumbents in power, create a distortion of representation and yield distorted policies, bent to benefit some at the great expense of others. <br /><br />Third, today, for the first time since I left youth ministry fourteen years ago, I found myself talking with young teens in a confirmation class at our church. The new youth minister, Jessica Campbell, was in my first small group when I started youth ministry in 1999. Now she's back from years in youth ministry in the mid-west, leading the Good Samaritan youth ministry and teaching the youth confirmation class. I was an invited guest and loved every minute. <br /><br />The curriculum she's using has some fragments of a curriculum I created twenty years ago, with some wonderful changes and additions across the years. Jessica sent me a preview and I found myself drawn to some Hebrew words I'd never seen, three different words flattened into "sin" in modern translations. I'll likely circle back to all three but for now I want to point toward the Bible Project <a href="https://bibleproject.com/explore/video/avon-iniquity/" target="_blank">Iniquity</a> page a</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">nd pause on the explanation of one Hebrew word for sin.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;">The word </span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1b1b1b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">avon</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;"> is related to a Hebrew verb </span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1b1b1b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">avah</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;">, which means “to be bent” or “crooked.” The poet of Psalm says his back is </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">avah'd,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;"> that is, bent over in pain. A road that isn't straight is one that a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">vah's,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;"> that is, it's twisty and crooked. </span></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It occurred to me reading this description: if "avon" refers to all kinds of crooked behavior, it refers to gerrymandering. Crooked lines. Distorted representation. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></i></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;">Another fascinating thing about the word </span><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1b1b1b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">avon</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b; font-style: italic;"> is that it refers not only to </span><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">distorted behavior but also to the crooked consequences––the hurt people, the broken relationships, the cycles of retaliation.</span></i></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span><p></p><div class="bib-ref-pop" data-query="Psalms 36" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #cff6ff; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: default; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; height: auto; left: 0px; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; opacity: 0; padding: 10px; pointer-events: none; position: fixed; right: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; top: 0px; transform: translateY(-100%); transition: opacity 0.2s ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline; width: 300px; z-index: 19002;"><a class="bib-ref" data-query="Psalms 36" href="https://bibleproject.com/explore/video/avon-iniquity/#" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="bib-ref-pop__content" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 0px 5px; max-height: 130px; min-height: 50px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="1" data-sid="PSA 36:1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">1</span>Transgression speaks to the ungodly within his heart;</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">There is no fear of God before his eyes.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="2" data-sid="PSA 36:2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">2</span>For it flatters him in his <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">own</span> eyes</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Concerning the discovery of his iniquity <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">and</span> the hatred <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">of it.</span></p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="3" data-sid="PSA 36:3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">3</span>The words of his mouth are wickedness and deceit;</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He has ceased to be wise <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">and</span> to do good.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="4" data-sid="PSA 36:4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">4</span>He plans wickedness upon his bed;</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He sets himself on a path that is not good;</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He does not despise evil.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="5" data-sid="PSA 36:5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">5</span>Your lovingkindness, O L<span class="sc" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">ord</span>, extends to the heavens,</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Your faithfulness <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">reaches</span> to the skies.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="6" data-sid="PSA 36:6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">6</span>Your righteousness is like the mountains of God;</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Your judgments are <span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">like</span> a great deep.</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">O L<span class="sc" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">ord</span>, You preserve man and beast.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="7" data-sid="PSA 36:7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">7</span>How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God!</p><p class="q" data-vid="PSA 36:7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">And the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Your wings.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="8" data-sid="PSA 36:8" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">8</span>They drink their fill of the abundance of Your house;</p></span></div></a><div class="bib-ref-pop__link-container" style="-webkit-box-pack: end; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; display: flex; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; justify-content: flex-end; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><a class="bib-ref" data-query="Psalms 36" href="https://bibleproject.com/explore/video/avon-iniquity/#" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;"></a><a class="bib-ref-pop__link" href="https://bibleproject.com/bible/nasb/psalms/36/" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Keep Readin<em style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #1b1b1b; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">avah</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">’d, that is, “bent over” in pain. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">Or in </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1b1b1b;">Lamentations</span></span></a></div></div><div class="bib-ref-pop" data-query="Lamentations 3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: #cff6ff; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: default; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; height: auto; left: 0px; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; opacity: 0; padding: 10px; pointer-events: none; position: fixed; right: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; top: 0px; transform: translateY(-100%); transition: opacity 0.2s ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline; width: 300px; z-index: 19002;"><a class="bib-ref" data-query="Lamentations 3" href="https://bibleproject.com/explore/video/avon-iniquity/#" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="bib-ref-pop__query" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 0px 5px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Lamentations 3</div><div class="bib-ref-pop__content" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 0px 5px; max-height: 130px; min-height: 50px; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><p class="s" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Jeremiah Shares Israel’s Affliction</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="1" data-sid="LAM 3:1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">1</span>I am the man who has seen affliction</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:1" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Because of the rod of His wrath.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="2" data-sid="LAM 3:2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">2</span>He has driven me and made me walk</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:2" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">In darkness and not in light.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="3" data-sid="LAM 3:3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">3</span>Surely against me He has turned His hand</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:3" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Repeatedly all the day.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="4" data-sid="LAM 3:4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">4</span>He has caused my flesh and my skin to waste away,</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He has broken my bones.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="5" data-sid="LAM 3:5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">5</span>He has besieged and encompassed me with bitterness and hardship.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="6" data-sid="LAM 3:6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">6</span>In dark places He has made me dwell,</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:6" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Like those who have long been dead.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="7" data-sid="LAM 3:7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">7</span>He has walled me in so that I cannot go out;</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He has made my chain heavy.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="8" data-sid="LAM 3:8" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">8</span>Even when I cry out and call for help,</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:8" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He shuts out my prayer.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="9" data-sid="LAM 3:9" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">9</span>He has blocked my ways with hewn stone;</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:9" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">He has made my paths crooked.</p><p class="q" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px 0px 32px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="v" data-number="10" data-sid="LAM 3:10" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px 6px 0px 0px; opacity: 0.5; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">10</span>He is to me like a bear lying in wait,</p><p class="q" data-vid="LAM 3:10" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.4em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="it" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;">Like</span> a lion in secret places.</p></div></span></a><div class="bib-ref-pop__link-container" style="-webkit-box-pack: end; -webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; display: flex; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; justify-content: flex-end; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; vertical-align: baseline;"><a class="bib-ref" data-query="Lamentations 3" href="https://bibleproject.com/explore/video/avon-iniquity/#" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-decoration-line: none; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;"></a><a class="bib-ref-pop__link" href="https://bibleproject.com/bible/nasb/lamentations/3/" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #010101; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.55; margin: 0px; outline: transparent solid 0px; padding: 0px; text-size-adjust: 100%; transition: outline-color 250ms ease 0s; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Keep Reading</span></a></div></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Elbridge Gerry was not the first to bend district lines to benefit his own party. And not the worst by any means. Two years past the last redistricting deadlines, multiple states are still in litigation over distorted district lines as both major parties vie for control of Congress and voters struggle for fair representation. <br /><br />Distorted districts yield distorted policies. The more I learn the more I see that. Distorted districts also deepen the partisan divide, and fuel "us vs them" cycles of retaliation. <br /><br />Crooked actions and distorted ideas ripple far past their beginnings to harm all they touch. Lies travel the globe, stirring more lies as they go. Hate begets more hate, with tragic consequences. The disturbances of sin shape our personal lives, but also our politics and policies, twisting and troubling everything they touch. <br /><br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I started this blog in 2010 in part to keep myself thinking about questions that came up with young friends during my years in youth ministry. In part my goal was to dig into words that have been flattened by misuse or mis-translation. And in part, I wanted to continue conversation, across space and time, about what it means to live as followers of Christ in ways that might not always fit with the distorted words we've been given.</span></p><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div style="text-align: left;">As I move into Ash Wednesday, and Lent, I'll be thinking about the crookedness I carry, the crookedness I've been freed from, and the crookedness in the world around us we're called to wrestle with. <br /><br /></div></span></span></div><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/w1zkwkI9oAw?si=UvpPxebOp2MNqOBw&start=1" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>
<div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Some earlier Ash Wednesday posts: </b></span></div><div><ul style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; line-height: 1.4; margin: 0.5em 0px; padding: 0px 2.5em;"><li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #8766dd; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2016/02/after-ashes.html" style="color: #0065ff;"><b>After the Ashes: February 14, 2016</b></a></span></li><li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/ash-wednesday-confession-booth.html" style="color: #1177cc;"><b>Ash Wednesday: Confession Booth: February 15, 2015</b></a></span></li><li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/03/leaning-into-lent.html" style="color: #1177cc;"><b>Leaning into Lent: March 2, 2014</b></a></span></li><li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/02/looking-toward-lent.html" style="color: #1177cc;"><b>Looking toward Lent: February 19, 2012</b></a></li><li style="margin: 0px 0px 0.25em; padding: 0px;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2011/03/invisible-witness.html" style="color: #1177cc;"><b>(In)visible Witness: March 6, 2011</b></a></li></ul></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-22598978580619514562024-01-28T14:17:00.002-05:002024-01-28T15:17:32.385-05:00Welcome the Stranger<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarAj6I0AEg2oooh9Ae57chyrlhiKgN1OzduiRJse0JA4Ku-7649oMe37EVMH9BaUuWzE92Tu2bKyoMz22vldJv8cdM3ZY_XiaeVdhXCoEFUYu9X_ITDhKPL6ugA8fazaGDbBlTCHMeqem52sQRad1WsH5DCJV8MtCPE7Gxsy3LWVwpeZFhcVzzsswYR4/s604/Sibinal%20tortilla%20stove.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="604" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjarAj6I0AEg2oooh9Ae57chyrlhiKgN1OzduiRJse0JA4Ku-7649oMe37EVMH9BaUuWzE92Tu2bKyoMz22vldJv8cdM3ZY_XiaeVdhXCoEFUYu9X_ITDhKPL6ugA8fazaGDbBlTCHMeqem52sQRad1WsH5DCJV8MtCPE7Gxsy3LWVwpeZFhcVzzsswYR4/w320-h238/Sibinal%20tortilla%20stove.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;">In 2008 my husband, younger daughter and I visited our son Matthew in the northern reaches of Guatemala. He was serving his second year with the Peace Corps in a region ravaged by civil war, drug trafficking, erosion and mud slides. His primary missions were to help replant treacherous slopes and explore possible tourist income tracking birds endemic to that region or leading hikes up Guatemala's highest slopes. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">While we were there, members of his community joined in serving a feast of welcome: multiple chickens cooked over an open fire, dozens of tortillas made from corn ground just that morning. My daughter and I practiced our very-limited Spanish while we learned to flatten balls of tortilla dough. Matthew and Whitney (my husband) joined others to position tables, gather chairs from nearby homes and keep the fires going. <br /><br />Over the extended midday meal there were multiple speeches, all translated by our son. Speeches about how happy the village was to have him. Speeches about the honor to host a family like ours, the first gringo family to visit the town in recent memory. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But the speech I remember most was from Matthew's landlord, a respected farmer and community leader He expressed his welcome, as he had in other ways in the days before, but then the speech took a different turn. He noted that he, and others of the town, had spent time in the United States. Sometimes as seasonal guest workers, harvesting crops. Sometimes for longer periods, digging ditches, laboring in construction. <br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>"No one ever invited us to dinner, No one made us a meal. No one made us feel welcome."</i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">Matthew, a gifted translator, matched the energy and expression of his host. The<br /> local listeners were quiet and watchful as the words were said in Spanish, then in English. We nodded, sadly. What else could we do? And the event continued, with more food, more talk, but a note of sadness sitting at the core. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYd2fREK5C2H3Ef8Gv6W0IpZG7GFpY5bJniy08TzcuVMPYa05aEWLcRy8piHt4abXlCSt06qYiTij36U7oeuQWfaa22M0Hni4MKlHE4fG0lKPY-J6cYTC-EVGnVOJXQXQxnyyeXGA6VuDMO1zTZQfLysr-5zOInrk5TYfYahR_OViklgRxMn_Y1GIBgkI/s604/Matt%20in%20Sibinal.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="604" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYd2fREK5C2H3Ef8Gv6W0IpZG7GFpY5bJniy08TzcuVMPYa05aEWLcRy8piHt4abXlCSt06qYiTij36U7oeuQWfaa22M0Hni4MKlHE4fG0lKPY-J6cYTC-EVGnVOJXQXQxnyyeXGA6VuDMO1zTZQfLysr-5zOInrk5TYfYahR_OViklgRxMn_Y1GIBgkI/w320-h239/Matt%20in%20Sibinal.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was reminded then, as I am now, of the words of Jesus in Matthew 25:<br /><span class="text Matt-25-31"></span></span></p><blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span class="text Matt-25-31">When the Son of Man comes in his glory with all his angels, he will sit on his royal throne. </span><span class="text Matt-25-32" id="en-CEV-22002">The people of all nations will be brought before him, and he will separate them, as shepherds separate their sheep from their goats. </span><span class="text Matt-25-33" id="en-CEV-22003">He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.</span><span class="text Matt-25-34" id="en-CEV-22004"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;"> </span>Then the king will say to those on his right, “My father has blessed you! Come and receive the kingdom that was prepared for you before the world was created. W</span><span class="text Matt-25-35" id="en-CEV-22005">hen I was hungry, you gave me something to eat, and when I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink. When I was a stranger, you welcomed me, </span><span class="text Matt-25-36" id="en-CEV-22006">and when I was naked, you gave me clothes to wear. When I was sick, you took care of me, and when I was in jail, you visited me.”</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span class="text Matt-25-37" id="en-CEV-22007">Then the ones who pleased the Lord will ask, “When did we give you something to eat or drink? </span><span class="text Matt-25-38" id="en-CEV-22008">When did we welcome you as a stranger or give you clothes to wear </span><span class="text Matt-25-39" id="en-CEV-22009">or visit you while you were sick or in jail?”<br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><br />The king will answer, “Whenever you did it for any of my people, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you did it for me.”</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span class="text Matt-25-41" id="en-CEV-22011">Then the king will say to those on his left, “Get away from me! You are under God's curse. Go into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels! </span><span class="text Matt-25-42" id="en-CEV-22012">I was hungry, but you did not give me anything to eat, and I was thirsty, but you did not give me anything to drink. </span><span class="text Matt-25-43" id="en-CEV-22013">I was a stranger, but you did not welcome me, and I was naked, but you did not give me any clothes to wear. I was sick and in jail, but you did not take care of me.”</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Then the people will ask, “Lord, when did we fail to help you when you were hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in jail?”</i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>The king will say to them, “Whenever you failed to help any of my people, no matter how unimportant they seemed, you failed to do it for me.”</i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Then Jesus said, “Those people will be punished forever. But the ones who pleased God will have eternal life.”</i></span></span></p></blockquote><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm not sure that passage should be taken as proof-text for everlasting fire or other spiritual realities, although that's often how it's read. Instead, I think it should be taken as a clear statement by Jesus that his followers can be known by the way they welcome strangers. All strangers. Hungry, naked, thirsty strangers. Sick, imprisoned strangers. That's how we show our love for Jesus himself, the God who himself was hungry, naked, thirsty, and imprisoned. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm thankful that I've always been part of churches where immigrants are welcome. My understanding of the Christian faith has been shaped by people from other continents. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first church Whitney and I joined in our early marriage befriended a network of Hmong refugees, recently arrived from the hill country of Laos and Northern Vietnam. They were part of a wave of asylum seekers who had worked with the US during the Vietnam War. The <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Refugee_Act_of_1980&redirect=no" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; outline-color: rgb(51, 102, 204);" title="Refugee Act of 1980">Refugee Act of 1980</a>, <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">signed by President </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Carter" style="background: none rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #3366cc; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-decoration-line: none;" title="Jimmy Carter">Jimmy Carter</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> on March 17, 1980, finally allowed families to join the Hmong spies who had escaped as Vietnam fell. Some of those families joined our church in Philadelphia and were an active part of our church life until most relocated to Wisconsin and Minnesota. <br /><br />During those same years another refugee landed in our church. His name was Hudson. He had escaped the bloody slaughter led by Idi Amin, the Ugandan dictator responsible for the death of over 300,000 of his countrymen. Hudson's family had been killed, but somehow as a teenager he found his way across borders to Philadelphia. We got to know him over Sunday lunches I helped organize every week in the church fellowship hall. When he heard I had a plot at a coop garden blocks from our church, he asked if he could help me dig and plant, and eventually joined us at our home to enjoy dinners made from the harvest. </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hudson and our Hmong friends were about the same age as Whitney and me, young adults in our early twenties. Yet how different our journeys. They chose not to talk of the refugee camps where they'd been held, the dangerous border crossings. They didn't share the painful stories of war and death and loss. Instead, they asked for help on practical things: how to find jobs, apartments, medical care, fabric, tools, special foods. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A decade later I did hear stories from other refugee friends: <br /><br />Tran, whose daughter was in my Brownie troop, became trained to help lead our Brownie campouts. When the girls were asleep in their tents, she and I sat by the campfire, where she told me stories of life in Vietnam during the war. She was in Saigon the day it fell, then spent years in a refugee camp. She was a practical, matter-of-fact person, but sometimes she would pause in her stories, as if the memories overwhelmed her. As if there was still so much sadness and terror she would need decades more to find courage to tell the full story. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Another mom was from an undisclosed Arab country. Her family had fled under a regime change and established a business in a neighboring country. There, their windows were broken and storefront ransacked because of ethnic prejudice, so they fled again. And again. Her young family had been in refugee camps in several countries before somehow gaining status to relocate to the US. Her daughters were now in school consistently for the first time. They were all finally beginning to feel safe. She was grateful. Grateful that they were welcome. Grateful that my daughter would be friends with hers. Grateful that I would invite her for coffee, and visit her home in return. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There have been times in US history when immigration laws worked well, when refugees had a clear path toward legal status, and when most Americans understood the economic and social benefits of welcome and inclusion. <br /><br />There have also been ugly times of prejudice, anger and violence toward newcomers, and seasons when our immigration laws defied common sense, our own economic well-being and the international rule of law. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We are in one of those seasons now. Immigration reforms have been blocked for years, caught in partisan accusation. Meanwhile, a steady stream of refugees is turned away in defiance of scripture and international law. <br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />The heartache for me is how many celebrating razor wire on the Texas border and blocking constructive immigration reform are people who claim to follow Jesus. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course nations have a right to secure borders. Of course the US can't be the final destination of every troubled person around the troubled globe. <br /><br />That's where the arguments immediately go. <br /><br />I'd suggest we start elsewhere: with Jesus' comments in Matthew 25.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And with an informed understanding of what the issues are, who is blocking solutions and a refusal to be exploited by fear or prejudice. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">For anyone who wants to do as Jesus asks us, some starting places:<br /></span></p><ul><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://evangelicalimmigrationtable.com/" target="_blank">The Evangelical Immigration Table</a></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Matthew 25 Project: <a href="https://static1.squarespace.com/static/63694737ee0b9222448d4ea2/t/6379459c6a507655052b40b4/1668892061072/M25_Whitepaper3_Immigration_PRINT.pdf" target="_blank">Immigration: A Biblical and Theolgoical Reflection</a></span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Migration Policy Institute: </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke: 0.25px; color: #333333; font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/immigration-shaped-united-states-history" target="_blank">Immigration Has Been a Defining, Often Contentious, Element Throughout U.S. History</a></span></span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32DL3fbiBDGOorzaXr2273NDIHCliemjiN2xrt403sBRHSpoPrm28Il6RB7chfP-8QrAPNW8jr_JIB3nGpgdLhsc88aIsrkn9Tb9O9AZF-6GaMIhk1QFox-lW_IPUosPbvJC00BTX-qEekvgoTloq2xD3mhIUAFwI9ImgbH_3lLdE_KTOwPnqgLP_bGM/s604/Mudslide.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="452" data-original-width="604" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi32DL3fbiBDGOorzaXr2273NDIHCliemjiN2xrt403sBRHSpoPrm28Il6RB7chfP-8QrAPNW8jr_JIB3nGpgdLhsc88aIsrkn9Tb9O9AZF-6GaMIhk1QFox-lW_IPUosPbvJC00BTX-qEekvgoTloq2xD3mhIUAFwI9ImgbH_3lLdE_KTOwPnqgLP_bGM/w400-h299/Mudslide.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some earlier posts on immigration:<br /></span></p><h2 class="date-header" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2016/08/walls-welcome-mercy-law.html" style="background-color: transparent; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Walls, Welcome, Mercy, Law</a>, August 28, 2016</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/01/epiphany-and-filoxenia-entertaining.html" style="background-color: transparent; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Epiphany and Filoxenia: Entertaining Angels</a>, January 4, 2015</span></li></ul></h2><div class="date-posts" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry uncustomized-post-template" itemprop="blogPost" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin: 0px 0px 25px; min-height: 0px; position: relative;"><a name="5688491660307811880"></a><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;"><br /></h3></div></div></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-26307602767694494922024-01-21T15:58:00.004-05:002024-01-21T15:58:47.569-05:00Pay attention. Tell about it. <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zvqSYYg0gygLvoqH_ULKesOmXomCFpeUfKKF7Usb0cy6SdR5kHT-gfsOVqM9T7f4-2qIJYdj5zaUg5bpLS-BGMMRgnRAUkpBgHXmUblxW-bVZ3TPiPwT-_iRrR3gplbieO3Hw_0D6GnkTL6GXc2vqaQ-3HrJeD_3laIZIfa1WegdYd5-ntw-6J2k5sY/s2113/IMG_3750%202.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2113" data-original-width="1417" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zvqSYYg0gygLvoqH_ULKesOmXomCFpeUfKKF7Usb0cy6SdR5kHT-gfsOVqM9T7f4-2qIJYdj5zaUg5bpLS-BGMMRgnRAUkpBgHXmUblxW-bVZ3TPiPwT-_iRrR3gplbieO3Hw_0D6GnkTL6GXc2vqaQ-3HrJeD_3laIZIfa1WegdYd5-ntw-6J2k5sY/s320/IMG_3750%202.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;">I</i><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">nstructions for living a life:<br /></i><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Pay attention.<br /> Be astonished.<br /> Tell about it. (Mary Oliver)</i><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></i><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On my way to take the kitchen scraps to our compost pile this morning, I noticed an intricate highway of tracks crisscrossing our back yard. I spent a few minutes following them, trying to sort out the creators, then came in and spent some time on-line, googling animal tracks.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Apparently there are less deer in the yard than I thought, but with more ways in and out than I imagined. The red fox that leaves its scat along the border of our back path is still coming and going, but I hadn’t realized how easily it squeezed through a narrow place in the neighbor’s fence. And it looks like a raccoon has been visiting the locust tree nearest the compost pile, apparently with short side trips to see what’s available for dinner.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The squirrels and birds skate across the top of the snow, leaving delicate tracings of tiny prints. Our cat, Princess Fiona, rarely walks in snow, but she’s left a few tracks, near the edge of the house, where her path leads her deeper than she’d like to go.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">How is it that I’ve been living here for over thirteen years, and never seen animal tracks in the snow? And how is that I’ve lived over half a century, and never noticed how weird deer tracks are? I’d heard they have cloven hooves, but had never really seen what that meant.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One of the books I’m reading this year is Barbara Taylor Brown’s </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith.</b><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> Her premise is that by consigning faith to church and overtly religious practices, we miss much of what God is doing in the world around us. As she says, “In a world where faith is often construed as a way of thinking, bodily practices remind the willing that faith is a way of life.”</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One of the practices Taylor Brown offers is “the practice of paying attention.” For Taylor Brown, attention is closely linked to reverence: an awareness that we are not all there is. We’re not the center of the universe. We aren’t God. We’re part of God’s creation.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Annie Dillard, a strong practitioner of paying attention, caught my own attention when I was sophomore in college. I picked up </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>Pilgrim at Tinker Creek</b></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>,</b> her Pultizer Prize winning account of a year spent stalking muskrat, beauty, and God Himself, in the hills and woods around Tinker Creek, in </span><st1:state style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" w:st="on">Virginia</st1:state><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">’s </span><st1:place style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" w:st="on">Blue Ridge mountains</st1:place><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">. I was intrigued by her attention to detail, her willingness to wait, and watch, to look beyond the disturbance on the water’s surface to see what was happening beneath.</span></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I remember being entranced with Dillard’s desire to see God at work in his creation, to know his character through the reality of nature’s complexity and abundance. Trees, leaves, bugs, shells were all clues for her, of an invisible, powerful hand at work, through intricate processes, unexplained purposes. After pages describing textures of bird feathers, tree bark, various kinds of rocks, she paused to wonder:</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><blockquote><i>“What do I make of all this texture? What does it mean about the kind of world in which I have been set down? The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means that there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knowk, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek.”</i></blockquote></span><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">But seeing takes time. Even reading about seeing takes time. Taylor Brown laments this: "No one has time for this, of course. No one has time to lie on the deck watching stars, or to wonder how one’s hand came to be, or to see the soul of a stranger walking by. Small wonder we are short on reverence. </span></span></div><div><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The artist Georgia O’Keeffe, who became famous for her sensuous paintings of flowers, explained her success by saying ‘In a way, nobody sees a flower, really, it is so small, we haven’t time – and to see takes time . . . ‘”</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It takes time to see animal tracks in snow, or how a flower is constructed, or what a friend might be thinking.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It also takes time to see where God might be working, to understand where he might be leading.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It’s interesting to me how much of scripture assumes an understanding of nature: descriptions of trees planted by rivers of water; psalms describing sun, moon, stars, weather, a vast array of living creatures, and what they tell us about God’s glory and power; prophecies suggesting that the health of creation is a reflection of our obedience or disobedience to God’s call; Jesus’ parables of wheat, vines, birds, flowers.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Is it possible to really hear God speak when we’re moving so fast we can’t even hear each other? Is it possible to understand what he’s doing when we’re moving too fast to see his hand in creation?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Jesus said “Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">He also said “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.”</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I went to</span><a href="http://www.blueletterbible.org/search.cfm" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;"> Strong’s lexicon</a><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> to see what I could find out about that word “consider.” The Greek word, katanoeÑw, means “to perceive, remark, observe, understand, to consider attentively, fix one's eyes or mind upon." In other words, pay attention.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYPPVWVk4qvhO5hO0O8PZYqhFlyB3xbmwiE3_h_CQapQMgxXCwuKAKPKLEYaH7rkDUd_otnEgCbasWD_DfwXQLiJKH-tTJGPnBatH5f43qQI6jKkBknqhEwB6DtAgtLQeZIuA0csTbjTNqCaOsg2dzcJoDmKthjFZJX-_e2p0I1U0kV3O9qprCnUs9Co/s3286/IMG_3753.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3286" data-original-width="1894" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYPPVWVk4qvhO5hO0O8PZYqhFlyB3xbmwiE3_h_CQapQMgxXCwuKAKPKLEYaH7rkDUd_otnEgCbasWD_DfwXQLiJKH-tTJGPnBatH5f43qQI6jKkBknqhEwB6DtAgtLQeZIuA0csTbjTNqCaOsg2dzcJoDmKthjFZJX-_e2p0I1U0kV3O9qprCnUs9Co/w230-h400/IMG_3753.jpg" width="230" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’ve had time lately to consider ravens, crows, flowers, butterflies, small children, tracks in the snow. And it occurs to me: when Jesus said “consider,” he didn’t mean “grab my point and move on fast.” He meant “slow down, examine, study, then follow the example of” things dear to him, parts of his creation that reflect his values, his care. That list includes ravens. Wild flowers.<br /><br />Jesus said “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.” As a birdwatcher, I’ve discovered that sparrows are among the most difficult to identify, the most time-consuming of birds. If you want to get to know sparrows, you’re going to have to hunker down somewhere and wait. Many birders write them off as “LBJ”s, little brown jobs, the least interesting, least important, hardest to identify. I’m still struggling to learn them.<br /><br />Yet Jesus says even sparrows are of interest to God. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.”<br /><br />As we pay attention, we find ourselves drawn closer to God, his provision beyond imagining, the grandeur of his vision, and the amazing reality that the God of the universe pays attention to our needs. Our own intentions are set in perspective; his plan for us gains focus and clarity.<br /><br />Consider the sparrows. The ravens. The flowers no one planted. It takes time, yet just the change of focus can make it time well spent, an avenue into closer fellowship with God, and an occasion for deeper, more honest praise and prayer.<br /><br /><i>Praying<o:p></o:p></i><br /><i> It doesn’t have to be<br /> the blue iris, it could be<br /> weeds in a vacant lot, or a few<br /> small stones; just<br /> pay attention, then patch<o:p></o:p></i><br /><i> a few words together and don’t try<br /> to make them elaborate, this isn’t<br /> a contest but the doorway<o:p></o:p></i><br /><i> into thanks, and a silence in which<br /> another voice may speak. (Mary Oliver)</i></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><span><a name='more'></a></span><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>This is a slight revision of a post from January 16, 2011:<a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2011/01/practice-of-paying-attention.html" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">The Practice of Paying Attention</a>. The only real change is that our cat, Princess Fiona, is no longer with us. And we have far more sparrows in the yard than we did 12 years ago. I explored the topic further in two subsequent posts: <a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2011/01/paying-attention-part-2-amos-and.html" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Paying Attention Part 2: Amos and Aluminum</a> (January 23, 2011) and <a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2011/01/paying-attention-next-generation.html" style="color: #0065ff; text-decoration-line: none;">Paying Attention: Next Generation</a>, January 30, 2011)</i></span></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-5716221085960393032024-01-14T16:11:00.005-05:002024-01-15T13:09:22.936-05:00Dreaming Beloved Community <p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I spent most of my childhood in the house my grandfather built. He was a first-generation Italian immigrant who arrived on Ellis Island in 1906 at the age of three. No birth certificate, no papers, just a weary mother and a 10-month-old sister. Maybe. The records are sketchy. HIs father and older brother arrived sometime before them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He worked as a young man in a railroad shop, then in construction. He was a determined lifelong Democrat, in favor of unions, immigrants, and John F. Kennedy, the country's first Catholic president. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47Q2fHLlNFnnW8InSaERyhtqLK2OxNiRk4RcpJFi4h6BdUOaFenW7rkOYiMA-Pm5j5l_837885-zEXHK650yfJIVWJe2Kzt0qVb8WF5U36HqMR9M5oWbgegDx7OF8Xb3WQj40mhQWNPfdgk-xRV0EEbcXiFq-NyxaKbVAr06Ipusfq5LN1Buffx03hYI/s231/i-have-a-dream-speech.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="231" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47Q2fHLlNFnnW8InSaERyhtqLK2OxNiRk4RcpJFi4h6BdUOaFenW7rkOYiMA-Pm5j5l_837885-zEXHK650yfJIVWJe2Kzt0qVb8WF5U36HqMR9M5oWbgegDx7OF8Xb3WQj40mhQWNPfdgk-xRV0EEbcXiFq-NyxaKbVAr06Ipusfq5LN1Buffx03hYI/w305-h320/i-have-a-dream-speech.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="text-align: start;">Martin Luther King, Jr. delivering </span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="text-align: start;">"I Have a Dream" <br />at the 1963</span><span face="Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="text-align: start;"> Civil Rights March. </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Martin_Luther_King_-_March_on_Washington.jpg" style="color: #003366; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: start;" target="_blank">Public Domain</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was small when I first heard Martin Luther King Junior's voice on my grandfather's transistor radio. He carried it around the house or propped it against his car when he was working in the garage. Baseball games were his top listening choice, but I can remember the drone of newscasters and the crackle of political speeches. When my grandfather stopped what he was doing to listen, I could sense something important. <br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was seven when King gave his most famous speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. I'm not sure I heard it that day, but for sure sometime soon after. The cadence of that speech, and its echo of scriptures I'd heard in church, helped shape my heart and future. <br /><br />King was talking about race, but more than race. I had felt the sting of division, from neighbors not happy to have an Italian immigrant on their block. And from parents uneasy when their children befriended a child whose parents were inexplicably missing. I'd had people make jokes about my name (Capra. It means goat in Italian. But that's not where most jokes landed.) And I'd fielded awkward questions: where did you say your parents are? When did you say they'd be back? If it's rude to stay silent in the face of adult questioning, I fear I sometimes was rude. <br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4B-DdMvjW5Lv_Ijg3dXf8YfdVeuuKPi7PWGOEsGXRqRA9vvXg55lxaWIM-iRU-xgO9rPXIQMCokttFpsg505HZylERsqReCEjod7VChhybECO9aNZ4I2MWjY9B5fVVW0-QhwG1cuzpA6Ob7C8sGeFdaHEl5nfOlGS8P8H66sRz5ZTy7Gxhg9nqSzgH4/s618/FBI_Poster_of_Missing_Civil_Rights_Workers.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja4B-DdMvjW5Lv_Ijg3dXf8YfdVeuuKPi7PWGOEsGXRqRA9vvXg55lxaWIM-iRU-xgO9rPXIQMCokttFpsg505HZylERsqReCEjod7VChhybECO9aNZ4I2MWjY9B5fVVW0-QhwG1cuzpA6Ob7C8sGeFdaHEl5nfOlGS8P8H66sRz5ZTy7Gxhg9nqSzgH4/w259-h400/FBI_Poster_of_Missing_Civil_Rights_Workers.jpg" width="259" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">My youngest uncle was a high school classmate of Michael Schwerner, one of the <a href="https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/freedomsummer-murder/" target="_blank">three civil rights activists</a> who vanished in Mississippi the summer I was eight. The mystery of Schwerner's disappearance rippled through our town for the 44 days of uncertainty, then exploded into grief when their bodies were found in an earthen dam. Schwerner was 24. <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">James Earl Chaney</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"> was 21. Andrew Goodman was 20. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">In our town, civil rights questions were immediate and ever-present. I was eleven when I started junior high in the same school Schwerner and my uncle had attended. Four elementary schools funneled into that school. At that time, two were mostly wealthy and white. One was more heavily immigrant and Italian. One was African American. As students converged in one old brick building, lines were drawn all around us. Some were visible, like the stairways claimed by different groups, or the sections of the cafeteria where only some were welcome. Some lines were less visible: g</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">irls who had been my closest friends pretended they didn't know me when they realized my last name was Italian. Students walking to the chalkboard in class took odd detours to avoid walking past students who might whisper invectives, or stick out a leg to trip them. <br /><br />Bomb scares, rumbles, fights in the hallway. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Night games were cancelled. Police patrolled the edges of afternoon football games. Dances were suspended. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /><br />One day there were rumors that some students in the high school one town over had taken over the school and locked all the classroom doors, holding fellow students hostage. Some on the lowest floor jumped out the windows and went home. Others were part of an all-day standoff. My church was once in the center of that town, torn down by the urban renewal that scattered the poor, smashed minority communities and left a simmering discontent. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #202122; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">My sharpest memory from the days after Martin Luther King was assassinated is the moment of silence in my art class. The teacher asked us to stand at our tables for a minute to honor and remember. Some students stood grudgingly. Some rolled their eyes. <br /><br />My memory is of the boy on the other side of the large, square table we shared with two other students. He was African-American, a friendly, funny kid who seemed oblivious to the divisions, the quiet slurs, the not-quite-hidden hostilities. During times when we worked on our drawings or murals he entertained us with stories, jokes, bits of song. When other kids told him to shut up, he'd smile, wink and say "Shut don't GO up." Then go on with his stories. <br /><br />Just remembering him makes me smile. But that day, the day of the moment of silence, he stood at stark attention, stared straight ahead, and let the tears roll down his face. His unembarrassed sorrow spread through the room: sadness, shame, the weight of a history we had no way to cure. The teacher let the silence linger. When we all went back to our work, it was with a deeper sense of what was lost, and what it cost us all. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">King's dream was rooted in America's founding documents:<br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."</i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">Even more, it was rooted in the scriptures he knew and memorized:<br /><span style="background-color: white;"><blockquote><i>I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; 'and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.'</i></blockquote></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">I've posted about King before:<br /></span></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">about his sense of call, the work of hope and his prophetic vision: </span></span><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/01/acorns-king-beloved-community.html" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Acorns, King, Beloved Community</a>, January 20, 2014</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">about his dream, setbacks and the inauguration of Barack Obama: <a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2017/01/still-dreaming.html" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Still Dreaming</a>, January 15, 2017</span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am certain that we are all called to some part of the work of reconciliation he envisioned. We're all called to help break down the invisible walls of division, to invite and welcome and value those different from ourselves.<br /><br />As we listen, dream, hope, pray, we may find ourselves called to do even more. That's been true for me. <br /><br />Here's an interesting discussion about the way King's dream led him deeper into faith and deeper into action: <span style="background-color: transparent; text-decoration-line: underline;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><a href="https://transformingcenter.org/2017/01/martin-luther-king-jr-and-the-soul-of-leadership/" target="_blank">Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Soul of Leadership.</a></span></span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> If you've heard the voices discounting King because he fell short of moral perfection, be sure to read the comments on that, especially the reflection on the example of King David. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />We live in a divided world, still struggling with the heritage of slavery and racial oppression, still thinking some voices are more valid than others. Our daily choices and conversations can bring us closer to King's dream, closer to that beloved community King described in a conference address in 1957: <a href="https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/king-papers/documents/role-church-facing-nation-s-chief-moral-dilemma-address-delivered-25-april" target="_blank">The Role of the Church in Facing the Nation's Moral Dilemma</a><span style="color: #2b00fe;">:</span><br /><blockquote><i>The end is reconciliation; the end is redemption; the end is the creation of the beloved community. It is this type of spirit and this type of love that can transform opposers into friends. The type of love that I stress here is not eros, a sort of esthetic or romantic love; not philia, a sort of reciprocal love between personal friends; but it is agape, which is understanding goodwill for all men. It is an overflowing love which seeks nothing in return. It is the love of God working in the lives of men. This is the love that may well be the salvation of our civilization.</i></blockquote></span></div><p></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-88794394648855521192024-01-07T16:08:00.001-05:002024-01-07T16:08:42.503-05:00Rachel Weeping<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm normally really good at compartmentalizing. <br /><br />I acknowledge grief or anger as I read my morning scripture, pray and journal while I finish my coffee, then set feelings aside as I move on with my day. <br /><br />Some days, though, those feelings follow me through the day. Yesterday, January 6, was such a day. <br /><br />I kept remembering the strangeness of January 6, 2021, playing back bits of conversations with family members who wished they could have been there, who admire others who made the journey, who think an assault on our government was a high point of Christian witness. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh6Ypa8VfZ8A2yHnKnFkU3CCcemwGk0qN8kXOo95HYVabrI76tdDuXbs4eXWy6FOfGbpbD-DEBmhop6L1M_MJXnZgsiHA3qt7oKlXC-CGcvgjXn0lP5eGCQcmPVJsjOXVjamUxkzu65tMp4qfyRsASrp99Z6liy_HZVwGV-hISF0GQ4rO1e8kuIzd32o/s700/massacreoftheinnocents700.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="663" data-original-width="700" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZh6Ypa8VfZ8A2yHnKnFkU3CCcemwGk0qN8kXOo95HYVabrI76tdDuXbs4eXWy6FOfGbpbD-DEBmhop6L1M_MJXnZgsiHA3qt7oKlXC-CGcvgjXn0lP5eGCQcmPVJsjOXVjamUxkzu65tMp4qfyRsASrp99Z6liy_HZVwGV-hISF0GQ4rO1e8kuIzd32o/w320-h303/massacreoftheinnocents700.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times; text-align: start;"><span class="noot" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Jacobus de Voragine, </span><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Legenda aurea, <br />Tuscany, ca 1260</span></em><br /></span></em></td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I found myself puzzling over the way Donald Trump emboldened bad behavior in other world leaders, grieving the ongoing war in Ukraine, the horrors still unfolding in Israel and Gaza. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">From there it wasn't far to lamenting the continuing tragedies at our southern border, now the world's deadliest land route for migrants.<br /><br />Yesterday was Epiphany, the day liturgical churches commemorate the magi traveling to follow the star that led to Bethlehem. Normally Epiphany reminds me of light: the bright star in the darkness, the wise men carrying unexpected gifts.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This year I found myself in a darker place, thinking instead about Herod, the petty tyrant the magi visited as they traveled in search of the new-born king. I found myself thinking of the part of the Christmas story we intentionally omit when we talk about the star and shepherds and magi and angels. <br /><br />When we enact <span style="color: #2b00fe;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/search?q=pageant" target="_blank">our annual Christmas Eve family pageant</a>,</span> we always end with Matthew 2:1-12. The magi arrive in Jerusalem, asking "Where is the One<span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: justify;"> who has been born King of the Jews? We saw His star in the east</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: justify;">and have come to worship Him.” </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: justify;">The scribes, remembering the prophecy of Micah 5:2, point them toward Bethlehem, where they find Jesus and leave their gifts, then, warned by an angel, travel home by a different route. My son and two grandsons act as shepherds then magi, with paper crowns from the English Christmas crackers supplied by our English in-laws. <br /><br />We end our pageant with the first verse of "We Three Kings," then head for Christmas cookies and eggnog. <br /><br />But the story doesn't end there. <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew%202&version=NIV" target="_blank">The next six verses</a> should be required reading in every church, every year, if only to shape our hearts on questions of immigration: </span></span></p><p class="reg" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><blockquote><p class="reg" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>When the Magi had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up!” he said. “Take the Child and His mother and flee to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the Child to kill Him.”<a name="15"></a></i></span></p><p class="reg" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>So he got up, took the Child and His mother by night, and withdrew to Egypt, where he stayed until the death of Herod. This fulfilled what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called My Son.”</i></span></p><p class="reg" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>When Herod saw that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was filled with rage. Sending orders, he put to death all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, according to the time he had learned from the Magi. Then what was spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:<a name="19"></a></i></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320;">“A voice is heard in Ramah,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320;">weeping and great mourning,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320;">Rachel weeping for her children,</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320;">and refusing to be comforted,</span></i></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #001320;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>because they are no more.”</i></span></span></div></blockquote><div><span style="color: #001320; font-family: verdana;">No one knows how many children were slaughtered in Bethlehem. There's no historical record, but plenty of evidence attesting to other ruthless murders initiated by Herod to maintain control and eliminate competitors. <br /><br />We may also never know for sure how many children have died at the US border, or in the bloody attacks in Israel and Gaza. </span></div><div><span style="color: #001320; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #001320;">I haven't read much by Brian Zahnd, but have heard friends speak of him, and stumbled on his blog while thinking about those slaughtered children, and the refugee baby carried into Egypt. In <a href="https://brianzahnd.com/2018/12/slaughter-innocents-dark-side-christmas/" target="_blank">The Slaughter of the Innocents: The Dark Side of Christmas </a>(December 28, 2018), Zahnd says:<br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><blockquote><i>history books tell us that most of civilization has been lived in the time of kings like Herod — that is, in the time of tyrant kings. I’m talking about the time of Herod, the time of Pharaoh, the time of Nebuchadnezzar, the time of Augustus, the time of Nero, all the way into modern times — the time of Hitler and Mussolini, the time of Franco and Salazar, the time of Pinochet and Putin. It’s tragically true that most people have lived their lives in the time of tyrant kings. </i></blockquote></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">The post is worth reading for more background on Herod, an explanation of the reference to Rachel, and the geograhic proximity of Bethlehem and Jerusalem. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />As Zahnd reminds us, there have always been tyrant kings, ready to sacrifice others to preserve their own power. <br /><br />There have always been refugees fleeing tyrants and war. <br /><br />There has always been darkness, and danger, and death. <br /><br />But that's not the end of the story. I find hope in Zahnd's conclusion:</span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">J</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">esus’ invasion by birth into the dark time of tyrant kings gives us a choice: we can trust in the armed brutality of violent power or we can trust in the naked vulnerability of love. It seems like an absurd choice, but only one of these ways is the Jesus way. We have to choose between the old way of Caesar and the new way of Christ. It’s the choice between the sword and the cross. We have to decide if we’ll pledge our allegiance to the Empire of Power or the Empire of Love, but we can’t do both.</span></i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><i><br /></i></span><p style="border: 0px; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variant-position: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"><i>Following the Jesus way of loving enemies and doing good to those who hate us isn’t necessarily safe and it doesn’t mean we won’t ever get hurt, but it does mean the darkness won’t prevail.</i></span></p></div></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiKWmo7UmTtHngeE772aeb7Mu9BNRXpHXHJm4fBNC9Jy97lxdvga2txV9Wd02ZcXfTqaBXft2PK-kByI3H0Z2K-AUEPihn2CM61liLvUawc1j-iOsJQ2lUqjBuurnKZnlZKul6TaEJN3AFW0P5IflliwL8ORBCUGI7nV6WLovCRbq_bmCBSYuCBelQLQ/s2560/Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder_-_Massacre_of_the_Innocents_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1754" data-original-width="2560" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkiKWmo7UmTtHngeE772aeb7Mu9BNRXpHXHJm4fBNC9Jy97lxdvga2txV9Wd02ZcXfTqaBXft2PK-kByI3H0Z2K-AUEPihn2CM61liLvUawc1j-iOsJQ2lUqjBuurnKZnlZKul6TaEJN3AFW0P5IflliwL8ORBCUGI7nV6WLovCRbq_bmCBSYuCBelQLQ/w400-h274/Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder_-_Massacre_of_the_Innocents_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a class="extiw" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/en:Pieter_Bruegel_the_Elder" style="background: none rgb(248, 249, 250); color: #3366cc; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13.6px; text-align: start;" title="w:en:Pieter Bruegel the Elder"><span title="Flemish painter (1526–1569)">Pieter Brueghel the Elder</span></a>, The Massacre of the Innocents<br />Belgium, ca 1565</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">Earlier Epiphany posts:</span></p><div><span style="background-color: white;"><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2011/12/journey-of-magi-francesco-pesellino.html" target="_blank">What the Magi Found</a>, </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Dec 28, 2011 (on mystery, faith, poetry)</span><br /><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/01/balaams-oracle-magis-star.html" style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Balaam's Oracle, Magis' Star,</a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Jan 5, 2014 (on a talking ass and other strange events)</span><br /><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/01/epiphany-and-filoxenia-entertaining.html" style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Epiphany and Filoxenia,</a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"> Jan 4, 2015 (on refugees and strangers)</span><br /><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/01/a-jungle-gym-epiphany.html" style="color: blue; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">A Jungle Gym Epiphany</a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">, Jan 10, 2016 (on belief and unbelief)</span><br /><span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2017/01/epiphany-power-and-prayer.html" style="color: blue;">Epiphany: Power and Prayer</a><u>,</u> Jan 8, 2017 (new year thoughts on evil and the call to live as agents of light)</span></h3><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">You can read Zahnd's full post here: </span><a href="https://brianzahnd.com/2018/12/slaughter-innocents-dark-side-christmas/" style="font-family: verdana;" target="_blank"><span style="color: #2b00fe;">The Slaughter of the Innocents: The Dark Side of Christmas. </span></a><br /></span><p class="indent2" style="font-family: Roboto, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 30px 0px 60px; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></p><p class="indent2" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; font-family: Roboto, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px 30px 0px 60px; text-align: justify;"><br /></p></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-28572106359992728282023-12-31T15:18:00.003-05:002023-12-31T15:18:52.267-05:00Seeking Wisdom: A New Year's Resolution<p><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I grew up surrounded by adults who were often very smart, but not often very wise.<br /> <br />I saw the difference starkly when my volatile grandfather abruptly sold the home we lived in, the fall I turned 14. With little notice, my grandmother, 3 siblings and I found ourselves unhoused. My older brother and sister finished out the school year living with a nearby family from our church. My grandmother, younger brother and I landed with a couple we had never met before in a town 30 miles away.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpW_d2VKKpT2MtS0gjCNzGB6eKnfOsrgFTPyXofyhrg3hgboWBaIpe6C1nbpD7Yt8_NTOhOoZ2-UEqSVhcpQtYX8nAmoyBNID6HFwl6IsE2qS90bknnJt8HF05LpQ2BXJ0DslpjTtA0JShJp-CirUiGdFROuehE2VhS1N2eowTh3Bf7W_pDMErAYhK-I/s956/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20at%203.16.38%E2%80%AFPM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="956" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGpW_d2VKKpT2MtS0gjCNzGB6eKnfOsrgFTPyXofyhrg3hgboWBaIpe6C1nbpD7Yt8_NTOhOoZ2-UEqSVhcpQtYX8nAmoyBNID6HFwl6IsE2qS90bknnJt8HF05LpQ2BXJ0DslpjTtA0JShJp-CirUiGdFROuehE2VhS1N2eowTh3Bf7W_pDMErAYhK-I/w320-h303/Screenshot%202023-12-31%20at%203.16.38%E2%80%AFPM.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Hazel and Jim Wilson had never gone to college. One of my uncles had met them through the board of a Christian camp and knew they had a reputation for hosting missionary families home on furlough and difficult teens whose families no longer wanted them. I'm not sure what he told them, but they welcomed us for as long as we needed. We lived with them from mid-October until late January of my freshman year of high school. <br /><br />They lived in a small frame house on a large country lot, surrounded by woods and hills. Jim worked on the highway, mowing berms in the summer, plowing snow in the winter. Hazel was an aide at a small daycare center. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It took a while for the sense of peace in their home to seep into my shattered heart. I was adjusting to a new school, abruptly cut off from friends, older siblings. Most of our belongings had been given away or put into storage. Yet there was a quiet, and welcome, and calm, in the Wilson's house that somehow counterbalanced the loss that landed us there. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It occurred to me, eating dinner every evening at their kitchen table, that I'd never lived in a household with adults who weren't somehow at war. And I'd never spent time with more than one adult without somehow being hammered with competing opinions. <br /><br />At the Wilsons, conversation moved slowly, cheerfully. Questions were met with generous good humor. Decisions were made with plenty of space for any options or objections to be weighed. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Some things in their house were givens: everyone did chores. Everyone helped. Everyone spoke with respect and listened with care. But beyond that, there was plenty of room to think, and consider. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Jim and Hazel had never had children. At first I was puzzled by the diverse assortment of young adults, young families, unexpected visitors who would show up at odd times, often unannounced, some staying for dinner, some spending the night on the living room couch, or some just standing in the yard to talk awhile before heading off on their way. I soon learned: these were some of the teens Jim and Hazel had fostered over their decades of marriage. Some had returned to their own families. Some they had adopted. For all, the Wilson's home was an island of calm, peace, healing, wisdom.<br /><br />Sometime in my teens, I stumbled on James 3:17 and 18. My first thought when I read it was "this is Hazel and Jim. This is who they are. This is why I love them": <br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace. <br />(King James Version) </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">By the time I read that passage the remains of our fragmented family had moved into the top floor of a two family house, just up the street from the small church the Wilsons attended. I saw them every Sunday morning and evening, and often on Wednesday evening for prayer meeting. They were a magnet for me and others. Their presence, the peace that surrounded them, filtered into every meeting they attended. I memorized that passage from James and carried it with me. When smart people I knew dismissed the Christian faith as nonsense, the Wilsons' wisdom was a weighty counter balance. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been seeking that kind of wisdom ever since, and watching for people who live it fully. Surrounded as we are by anger, division, judgmental opinions, competitive agendas, we need people like Jim and Hazel.<br /><br />I'm not big on New Year's resolutions, but sometimes I find it helpful to carry a passage with me and use it as a screen for the swirl around me. So here are a few thoughts for the year ahead:<br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b>1. Listen more, argue less.</b><br /><br />I've been struck lately at how much conversation feels like an attempt to lure me into argument. I don't have an opinion on everything. I don't want to duel over politics, theology, food, health. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">We can’t all be experts on every issue that confronts us, but we can take time to listen and learn before we voice opinions. If we haven’t taken time to look a little deeper, hear both sides of the story, understand the pros and cons, maybe we should ask questions and listen rather than repeat accusations that stir our anger but not our understanding.</span></span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>2. Love more, judge less. </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><b><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been reading a book by Brian McLaren called <span style="-webkit-text-fill-color: unset; -webkit-text-stroke-color: unset; background-color: unset; caret-color: unset; color: #04090b;"><u>Why Did Jesus, Moses, the Buddha, and Mohammed Cross the Road? Christian Identity in a Multi-Faith World.</u></span><span style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: unset; -webkit-text-fill-color: unset; -webkit-text-stroke-color: unset; background-color: unset; caret-color: unset; color: #04090b; text-decoration-line: unset;"> He explores the constant sorting of us vs them, in vs out, right vs wrong. What would happen if we started instead from a place of strong benevolence? What would happen if our first goal, always, was to see and love the other person as God sees and loves both them and us?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="color: #04090b;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>3. Seek righteousness, not "rightness."</b><br /><br />"Rightness" is a list of dos and don'ts and a competitive duel to have the best answer. Righteousness is very different: a rich blending of <span style="color: #222222;">justice, truth, compassion, kindness, wise governance, equitable economy. That one work deserves several posts of its own. I attempted one 2012 (</span><a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/05/reconciling-righteousness.html" style="color: #0065ff; text-decoration-line: none;">Reconciling Righteousness</a>) and again in 2013 (<a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2013/03/hungering-far-past-rightness.html" style="color: #0065ff; text-decoration-line: none;">Hungering Far Past "Rightness"</a><span style="color: #222222;">)</span><span style="color: #04090b;"><br /></span><b style="color: #222222;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>4. Pray for wisdom, for ourselves, our leaders, churches, communities, familles.</b><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />The passage from James is worth memorizing and praying, for ourselves, our families, and for those in leadership in our churches, communities and nation. Pray that our homes and churches would be places of healing for people harmed by division and judgment. Pray that our national and church leaders would be peacemakers, full of mercy and good fruit. Pray that we ourselves would be magnets of grace for those weary of argument, anger and division. <br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="text Jas-3-17" id="en-NKJV-30337" style="color: black;"><i></i></span><blockquote><i><span class="text Jas-3-17" id="en-NKJV-30337" style="color: black;">But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. </span><span class="text Jas-3-18" id="en-NKJV-30338" style="color: black;">Now the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace. (New King James Version)</span></i></blockquote><span class="text Jas-3-18" id="en-NKJV-30338" style="color: black;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-53832095412694324962023-12-24T08:17:00.001-05:002023-12-24T08:17:49.370-05:00Light in the Darkness<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;"><span></span><blockquote><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYUUyVDOdWGYb4WvbmJIR5nPAk6J3GZdb6Hr9Lyh245tec41KIXKumkzWPoe2Q_8hlA1KhE9EnQUfGU5jDVNqrg7MyOiY7sz6BCtkBSe7ogEHYya8mOvvXGQ_M9y-FMN-1piWwcdF8gUZDgonfGzEZqEOmJsDGvfJnJBoLR8BASY_UVMOOf1nWR_n01o/s640/Leandro_Bassano_-_Annunciation_to_the_Shepherds_-_KMSsp144_-_Statens_Museum_for_Kunst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="640" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYUUyVDOdWGYb4WvbmJIR5nPAk6J3GZdb6Hr9Lyh245tec41KIXKumkzWPoe2Q_8hlA1KhE9EnQUfGU5jDVNqrg7MyOiY7sz6BCtkBSe7ogEHYya8mOvvXGQ_M9y-FMN-1piWwcdF8gUZDgonfGzEZqEOmJsDGvfJnJBoLR8BASY_UVMOOf1nWR_n01o/w400-h295/Leandro_Bassano_-_Annunciation_to_the_Shepherds_-_KMSsp144_-_Statens_Museum_for_Kunst.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Leandro Bassano, Annunciation to the Shepherds, Italy 1600</span></td></tr></tbody></table></span></i></blockquote><span>There are seasons when I step away from news, social media, current events. Seasons when the darkness and division seem too overwhelming, the daily assault too hard to absorb. <br /><br />This is one of those seasons. I pray for Israel, and Gaza, for hostages and hospitals and families with no safe place to hide. I pray for the people of Sudan in the horrors of disease and war. I pray for Ukraine, and Russia. I pray for our national leaders in the divisive politics of the day. And I turn off the news and avoid the social media posts. There is too much grief and division, too much confusion and accusation. My heart can't hold it all. </span></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">I stumbled this week on the work of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Jürgen Moltmann. I've been reading <a href="https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/holidays/christmas-readings/watch-for-the-light" target="_blank">Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas.</a> Moltman's essay, <a href="https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/holidays/christmas-readings/the-disarming-child" target="_blank">The Disarming Child,</a> is the last entry in the collection. It begins with this passage from Isaiah:<br /></span><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;"></em></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;">The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.… The people will rejoice.… For the yoke of their burden and the staff on their shoulder and the rod of their oppressor thou hast broken as on the day of Midian. For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult and every garment rolled in blood will be burned as fuel for the fire. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty Hero, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, upon the throne of David, and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and righteousness from this time forth and for evermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.<br style="box-sizing: inherit;" />—Isaiah 9:2-6</em></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moltman experienced darkness as a child in Germany in the 1940s He was drafted into military service in 1943 at the age of 16 and served in an a<span style="background-color: white;">nti-aircraft unit during Operation Gomorrah,</span><span style="color: #2d2d2d;"><span style="background-color: white;"> a joint British-American bombing campaign in which over </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2d2d2d; font-family: verdana;">10,000 bombs were dropped, and over 40,000 Germans killed, in one week of round-the-clock bombing on Hamburg, Germany's second largest city.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After the war Moltman spent time in a succession of prisoner-of-war camps where he encountered the Bible, the Christian faith and the hope of forgiveness and reconciliation. <br /><br />He describes that time in his essay:<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>A people in darkness . . . This phrase touched me direclty when in 1945 we were driven in endless and desolate columns into prisoner-of-war camps, the sticks of the guards at our sides, with hungry stomachs and empty hearts and curses on our lips. But many of us the, and I was one, glimpsed the light that radiates from the divine child.. This light did not allow me to perish. This hope kept us alive. </i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">The book of Isaiah predicts and describes the Babylonian captivity. a period of Jewish history when Judah was conquered by Nebuchadnezzar II.<span style="color: #202122;"><span style="background-color: white;"> Jerusalem was destroyed and many Judeans were exiled to Assyria. <br /><blockquote><i>But for the prophet, Assyria is more than just Assyria. She is the representative of the power that is hostile to God, and this makes her at the very same time the very quintessence of all inhuman oppression. The prophet looks at the specific pllght of his people, but talks about a misery experienced by people everywhere. That is why his words and images are so wide open that prisoner in every age have been able to find in them their own fate and their own hope.</i></blockquote>In our Christmas services we celebrate that hope, but we sometimes miss how radical and political that hope is: <br /></span></span><blockquote><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;">the government will be upon his shoulder, and his name will be called “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty Hero, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end...</em><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;">. Th</em><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;">e zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.</em></blockquote><em style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;"></em></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moltman talks about the zeal of nationalism, of power, of revenge. He saw that zeal in the German nationalism that led to World War II. We see it now in US politics, in the wars in Ukraine, Gaza and Sudan. Anger, bitterness, division, hate: they beget more of the same, until violence breaks out and the cycle continues. <br /><br />Isaiah foretold a a different future, a new kind of leader. Moltman continues:<br /><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>He will establish “peace on earth,” we are told, and he will “uphold peace with justice and with righteousness.” But how can peace go together with justice? What we are familiar with is generally peace based on injustice, and justice based on conflict. The life of justice is struggle. Among us, peace and justice are divided by the struggle for power. The so-called “law of the strongest” destroys justice and right. The weakness of the peacemakers makes peace fragile. It is only in the zeal of love that what power has separated can be put together again: in a just peace and in the right to peace.</i></span></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I find myself caught by that phrase: the zeal of love. That love brought God to a take on human form, to live as a refugee, a stranger, a wanderer condemned to die a disgraceful death. That zeal invited followers who gave their lives to share it, and still shines across centuries and continents, in places of sadness and anger and loss.<br /><br />That zeal invites us to live as people of light and love, as agents of both peace and justice, as new people, following the child we celebrate. Moltman's own life was changed by that zeal of love, and the call to follow: </span></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: 1.4;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>We can follow him, even today making visible something of the peace, liberty, and righteousness of the kingdom that he will complete. It is no longer impossible. It has become possible for us in fellowship with him. Let us share in his new creation of the world and – born again to a living hope – live as new men and women.</i></span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>The zeal of the Lord be with us all.</i></span></blockquote><span><a name='more'></a></span><p>Excerpts from <span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><i><a href="https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/holidays/christmas-readings/the-disarming-child" target="_blank">The Disarming Child, </a>from</i></span><i style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;">The Power of the Powerless</span><span style="background-color: white;"> by Jürgen Moltmann, English translation copyright 1983 by SCM Press Ltd. Reprinted in </span><a href="https://www.plough.com/en/topics/culture/holidays/christmas-readings/watch-for-the-light" target="_blank"><span style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); box-sizing: inherit; color: #565656;">Watch for the Light</span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit;"> </span></a><span style="background-color: white;">by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, lnc., and SCM Press, London.</span></i></p><p><br /></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-53010304676424936872023-12-17T15:30:00.007-05:002023-12-24T07:12:56.798-05:00Joyful Genealogy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J44gWkciNuaoAbwIIHRyc7duQ0WBZtO6ah-wCtpxZBOaLlg0zkAv0zbBITHPqS-h6wB5nM_CgDfJH0H5g0v7Xponf6l9SYyivtvNAwuqYCL53KekeA9_N6X1jcVhaqEUbkyD4zs53ohg4FnDpy88K9Br_8nxns0rFeIMwCxxL0-V4wZQ-kaJDVfweWQ/s4028/IMG_3693.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4028" data-original-width="2690" height="387" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J44gWkciNuaoAbwIIHRyc7duQ0WBZtO6ah-wCtpxZBOaLlg0zkAv0zbBITHPqS-h6wB5nM_CgDfJH0H5g0v7Xponf6l9SYyivtvNAwuqYCL53KekeA9_N6X1jcVhaqEUbkyD4zs53ohg4FnDpy88K9Br_8nxns0rFeIMwCxxL0-V4wZQ-kaJDVfweWQ/w258-h387/IMG_3693.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm fairly sure no mythic god would be announced with a genealogy of the kind that appears in Matthew, Chapter 1, listing the paternal ancestry of Jesus across two thousand years. As a writer, I'm always intrigued by the narrative arc of the ancient Biblical texts. Why start an important, dramatic story with a lengthy list of begots? </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genealogy_of_Jesus" target="_blank">The list itself </a>has spurred reams of historical speculation. Why is it arranged as it is? Why does Matthew's differ from Luke's? What's the evidence for either? Why are there obvious omissions in both?<br /><br />I talked yesterday with a niece who has sometimes dabbled in family genealogy. I have a younger sister I've never met, and my niece was at one time in touch with that part of my disrupted family. She reminded me I also have three half-brothers I never met. We don't even know their names. They've never made it onto any family tree I've ever seen. <br /><br />But no family tree <i>ever</i> has every name. Every family tree has holes.<br /><br />Would I put a genealogy in a story of my own? Probably not. If I did, which family lines would I include? In my father's mother's line we have links that go back to early Welch settlers along the Hudson valley sometime before the American Revolution. In other parts of the family tree, we know just a few names, back to maybe the early1900s. Names before that were lost in a sea of northern Italian Carl Capras, (my paternal granfather) or Irish Patricia Ryans (my mother). <br /><br />My husband Whitney and I have been watching <a href="https://watch.thechosen.tv/page/season%201" target="_blank">The Chosen</a> by Angel Films, a series on the life of Christ. We watch an episode each Sunday evening, with our regular Sunday evening fare of popcorn and cut-up apples and cheese. We watched through the first three seasons, then circled back to watch again. It's a fictionalized version of the Gospels, of course, but parts of it ring true, and parts raise intriguing questions. <br /><br />Matthew is one of my favorite characters. The quirky, hated tax-collector. Obsessed with detail, disliked by his fellow disciples, a meticulous note-taker. The writers of <b>The Chosen</b> did a great job imagining Matthew as the writer of the Gospel of Matthew.<br /><br />But there's something taking place in Matthew's genealogy that leaps past any imagined 1st century reporter, no matter how fond of making lists.<br /><br />As would be expected for a writer of that time and place, most of the names Matthew provided are male Many were powerful, important, known figures from Jewish history. <br /><br />There are also names that might have been known by the people of Jesus' day, but aren't recorded in any Old Testament writings: Akim, Elihud, Eleazar, Matthan. Other names seem changed or conflated or slightly out of order. Let's assume Matthew didn't have access to digital census documents, or Ancestry.com. Should anyone assume an exactly accurate listing, or is there something more important at stake?<br /><br />Here are the most unexpected entries, totally wrong if Matthew's goal was to win support for an unexpected Messiah (Warning: at least 2 of these stories would be banned in any well-conceived book-banning scheme):<br /></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tamar: a Canaanite widow (ie: NOT endorsed wife) who posed as a prostitute to entrap her father-in-law Judah (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=genesis+38&version=NIV" target="_blank">Genesis 38,</a> check the backstory <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tamar_(Genesis)#:~:text=7%20External%20links-,Genesis%20narrative,the%20family%20line%20might%20continue." target="_blank">here)</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Rahab: a Canaanite prostitute who lied to her own people to protect Jewish spies (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=joshua+2&version=NIV" target="_blank">Joshua 2,</a> context <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rahab" target="_blank">here</a>)</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Ruth: a Moabite (another outsider), who married Boaz after a not-exactly model courtship (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Ruth%203&version=NIV" target="_blank">Ruth 3</a>, summary <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruth_(biblical_figure)" target="_blank">here</a>) </span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">Bathsheba: she's not named by Matthew, just "Uriah's wife", a reminder that King David was not always a paragon of virtue and was guilty of Uriah's death after the illicit conquest, or worse, of Uriah's wife Bathsheba. The conception of Solomon, Bathsheba and David's son, is not one most writers would take care to spotlight in the opener of an authorized holy narrative (<a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=2+samuel+11&version=NIV" target="_blank">2 Samuel 11</a>; story <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bathsheba" target="_blank">here)</a></span></li></ul><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">In an essay called "Genealogy and Grace," Gail Godwin ponders the list of Jesus' ancestors:<br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">For reasons unknown to us, God may select the Judahs who sell their brothers into slavery, the Jacobs who cheat their way to first place, the Davids who steal wives and murder rivals -but also compose profound and beautiful psalms of praise....<br /><br />And what about the women Matthew chooses to include? ... Every one ... had scandal or aspersion attached to her. <br /></span></blockquote></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">What does your own family tree look like? What's your own part in that tree?<br /><br />Christmas can be a hard time of introspection. We think of loved ones no longer with us. We think of family rifts, stories not told, histories we carry we don't fully understand. <br /><br />I find myself encouraged by the genealogy of Jesus. By the recognition of the women - seen and remembered - despite so many reasons to omit mention of their lives. <br /><br />I find myself rejoicing that God's story, as it unfolds across generations, has never been the exclusive domain of the powerful, the purposeful, the socially accepted, the righteous and the upright. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">There's room in it for me. For my family: past, present, future. Known and unknown. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">As Godwin concludes:<br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">Matthew's genealogy is showing us how the story of Jesus Christ contained - and would continue to contain - the flawed and inflicted and insulted, the cunning and the weak-willed and the misunderstood." (from Evensong, Gail Godwin, 1999). </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;">As we think about who will gather, and not gather, around our Christmas dinner tables, let's rejoice that there's one table where all are invited, all are welcome, all are named. </span><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkPNrzfBcZh54F6vNHejk5Y7PUpQwrV1kpumWmWd1d4RwdNsCvlMoAHiMNTkP-sg8lfAHN6pqvx_kfaEU8fsQEolfa67q5C6RSM4A6_ZictasbqGq4LYHuRZY6ZQ0XvbQQhCmQpT3EAqCST2rIM6NiVfc6vGGKd-LgvO6xcMnRshVzrpqj6e06maQXW0/s1188/Screenshot%202023-12-17%20at%203.25.36%E2%80%AFPM.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1058" data-original-width="1188" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkPNrzfBcZh54F6vNHejk5Y7PUpQwrV1kpumWmWd1d4RwdNsCvlMoAHiMNTkP-sg8lfAHN6pqvx_kfaEU8fsQEolfa67q5C6RSM4A6_ZictasbqGq4LYHuRZY6ZQ0XvbQQhCmQpT3EAqCST2rIM6NiVfc6vGGKd-LgvO6xcMnRshVzrpqj6e06maQXW0/w400-h356/Screenshot%202023-12-17%20at%203.25.36%E2%80%AFPM.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">From 17th century Tree of Jesse<br />P. Kritikos Collection (Patmos) <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Victor_(iconographer)_Tree_of_Jesse.png" target="_blank">Wikimedia Commons</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><p></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-39782996857643898832023-12-10T18:52:00.001-05:002023-12-10T18:52:54.483-05:00Prepare the Way<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Old Testament text in church this morning was Isaiah 40:1-11.</span></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been grieving the tragedy unfolding in Israel and Gaza. The lives lost, the captives still missing, the terror and grief and hunger and disease.<br /><br />I've been grieving the accusation and anger in the streets and campuses here in the US. Even good people struggling to say the right thing, to do the right thing, find themselves caught in the middle of an escalating divide. <br /><br />My friend Jess Campbell was the reader in church this morning. I've known her since she was in 10th grade, in the first small group I led in youth ministry. She's now the youth director at our church after years leading youth ministry and Young Life clubs on Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota, then working with several churches in the mid-west. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">"Comfort, comfort</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">my people, sa</span><span class="text Isa-40-1" style="position: relative;">ys your God.</span><span class="text Isa-40-1" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><b> </b></span><span style="background-color: white;">Speak tenderly</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">to Jerusalem."</span></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Maybe I was teary because hearing Jess read reminded me of so many times of reading scripture with her and her friends in that first small group, with her and the other youth volunteers and interns when she worked with me as a college intern. I'm moved to see her still reading God's word with such conviction and joy. God's word grows in us. Shapes us. Sings across our years and decades. <br /><br />But maybe I was teary because comfort is so badly needed in Jerusalem. In Gaza. In this whole weary world. And because God's people, all of us, are so in need of a tender voice when so much of what we hear is so strident and hateful. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The reading went on:<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"A voice of one calling:</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"In the wilderness prepare</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">the way for the Lord,</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">make straight in the desert</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">a highway for our God.</span></span></blockquote><span id="docs-internal-guid-5809fc42-7fff-123c-f411-15ce97df04c6"><span style="font-family: Roboto, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-5809fc42-7fff-123c-f411-15ce97df04c6"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">"Every valley shall be raised up,</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> every mountain and hill made low;</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">the rough ground shall become level,
</span></span><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> the rugged places made plain.'"</span> </span></blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Prepare the way. <br /><br />That's a major Advent theme. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Often the focus of preparation is prayer, silence, reflection, waiting. <br /><br />I've blogged in the past about each of those. <br /><br />But this year I'm struck by <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke%203&version=NIV" target="_blank">Luke's record</a> of John the Baptist's message. When John told the crowds following him to prepare the way and produce fruit in keeping with righteousness, they asked him "What should we <i>DO</i>?" <br /></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />His answer doesn't fit well with the normal Advent message:</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><blockquote>“Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”</blockquote></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white;">Sit with that a while. <br /><br />What questions come to mind?</span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today is my 68th birthday. I'm sitting by my family room fireplace, considering my new tea cups, my soft new socks. New earrings, new book. A box of Bridge Street chocolates. Some left-over Wegman's cannoli. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In a world where so many are hungry and homeless, what does it mean to hear the words of John?<br /><br />In a world of anger, war, division, what does comfort look like? <br /><br />There is a practical piece to repentance and preparation. My guess is that it will be different for every person. John went on to address tax collectors and soldiers. What would he say to the rest of us? Be content. Share what you have. Don't lust after more. Is that enough?<br /><br />But maybe the seemingly spiritual is in fact most practical. In a time like this, pray for Jerusalem. For Israel. For Gaza. Pray for wisdom. For justice. For peace. For God's grace and mercy to be felt and known and expressed in practical ways. <i>Then</i> produce fruit in keeping with righteousness. Whatever comes to mind. <br /><br />Maybe.<br /><br />But also, in a time like this, it's good to return to words of scripture. <br /><br />That's where the comfort and preparation and next steps of obedience come. <br /><br />Isaiah 40 is worth reading completely. Here's how the chapter ends:<br /><span class="text Isa-40-28" id="en-NIV-18449" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="text Isa-40-28" id="en-NIV-18449" style="background-color: white; position: relative;">"Do you not know?</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-28" style="position: relative;">Have you not heard?</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-28" style="background-color: white; position: relative;">The <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span> is the everlasting God,</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-28" style="position: relative;">the Creator of the ends of the earth.</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-28" style="background-color: white; position: relative;">He will not grow tired or weary,</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-28" style="position: relative;">and his understanding no one can fathom.</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-29" id="en-NIV-18450" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">29 </span>He gives strength to the weary</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-29" style="position: relative;">and increases the power of the weak.</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-30" id="en-NIV-18451" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">30 </span>Even youths grow tired and weary,</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-30" style="position: relative;">and young men stumble and fall;</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-31" id="en-NIV-18452" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">31 </span>but those who hope in the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Lord</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-31" style="position: relative;">will renew their strength.</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Isa-40-31" style="background-color: white; position: relative;">They will soar on wings like eagles;</span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-31" style="position: relative;">they will run and not grow weary,</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Isa-40-31" style="position: relative;">they will walk and not be faint."</span></span></span></blockquote><p></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-30629004244690342452023-12-03T08:47:00.004-05:002023-12-03T08:49:51.240-05:00Metanoia<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: verdana;">I began this blog on November 1, 2010, just a month after I ended eleven years in youth ministry at the Church of the Good Samaritan. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think at the time I was concerned that without the weekly schedule of lessons and talks to prepare, I'd lose the discipline of study and reflection. I posted almost every Sunday for the next six years, then more sporadically the next four, and ended a bit abruptly in June of 2021. </span></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I called that last post <a href="https://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/06/owlets-ufos-microbes-miracles.html" style="color: #0065ff; text-indent: -15px;">Owlets, UFOs, Microbes, Miracles</a>. Toward the end I wrote:</span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><i>"We miss so much by our own inattention, our determined refusal to listen, our predetermined categories, our amazing arrogance. We know so little, yet we think we understand enough to say what's real, what's not, what's worth our time, what isn't."</i></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Maybe I stopped blogging after that because in a world where so many were arguing so fiercely over science, health, politics, faith, I didn't want to argue. Even a weekly blog post seemed too much of a challenge. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I was deep into work with Fair Districts PA, an organization I helped form in 2016, advocating for better voting maps in Pennsylvania. And I was exhausted by a year of pandemic, by extended family health complications, by the rising tide of political ill-will. Silence seemed easier, and sometimes easy may be what we need. <br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br />But recently I've had nudges to start posting again. I've started a few posts, then set them aside. But today is the start of Advent, one of my favorite times of the year, and I'm feeling the need to settle back into a more consistent discipline. I'm going to revisit and revise some earlier Advent posts, then see where that takes me in the new year ahead. <br /><br />This post is a revision from December 4, 2011. <br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15.4px;">********************</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Advent is a time of preparation: four weeks of waiting before the day we celebrate Christ's birth. In the liturgical church, John the Baptist is one of the voices of that challenge to get ready. The gospel texts describe him calling “Prepare the way." "Make straight the path." "Repent and be baptized.”<br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">“Repent” is one of those words badly flattened in translation. The original word is “metanoia” – “meta” and “noia.” “Noia” is easy: “mind.”<br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">“</span><st1:place style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;" w:st="on">Meta</st1:place><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">” is harder. It’s a prefix we see in “meta-narrative” or “metaphysics.” It can be translated “beyond,” or “after.” But the meaning seems larger, more like “encompassing,” or “like this, only bigger.” </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So “metanarrative” is the bigger story that contains, and explains, other narratives. “Metaphysics” is the bigger vision that contains, and explains, the physical world. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">And “metanoia”? Literal attempts at translation read it as “a change of mind.” But it’s more like moving from a small mind, our own, to the “meta mind,” the larger mind that encompasses ours: God’s own. <br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br />So when John the Baptist calls "repent, " he's calling us to let our small minds go, and find our place in God’s. To let our own agendas go, and find ourselves in God’s. To set aside our own narrow view, and ask God to help us see his larger vision.<br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">C. S. Lewis, struggling to explain this larger view of repentance, put it this way: <br /></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">“[F]allen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms. Laying down your arms, surrendering, saying you are sorry, realising that you have been on the wrong track and getting ready to start life over again from the ground floor—that is the only way out of a "hole." This process of surrender—this movement full speed astern—is what Christians call repentance. . . . It means unlearning all the self-conceit and self-will that we have been training ourselves into for thousands of years. It means undergoing a kind of death." (Mere Christianity)</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"> <br /></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">If we think of repentance at all, we're likely to think it's something we can check off, a quick confession, a grudging acknowledgement of guilt, a half-hearted "I'm sorry," then on to other things. But metanoia is much bigger, more lasting. As Lewis says, it’s a kind of death, letting go of our own great ideas, our own fiercely held prejudices, our own self-importance. It’s a willingness to take on a less selfish way of living, a less self-absorbed way of seeing.<br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">The difficulty, of course, is that we can’t really do this on our own. We see what we see. We are who we are. We hold tightly to our smallness. Conditioned by our experience, our upbringing, our temperament, the voices of our culture, our families, our favorite tv shows, we are locked into our own way of knowing, and trapped in our own ways of living.<br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">From prison, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote to a former student: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><i>“One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman (a so-called priestly type!), a righteous man or an unrighteous one, a sick man or a healthy one. . . I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world – watching with Christ in </i><st1:place style="font-style: italic;" w:st="on">Gethsemane</st1:place><i>. That, I think, is faith; that is metanoia . . .” (Letters and Papers from Prison)</i></span></span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">I'm struck now, rereading this, at the great heartache Bonhoeffer must have felt, seeing so many of the Christians he'd known fall in line with the Nazi regime. I'm struck by the fear he must have felt, knowing the brutality of the regime he had opposed, no doubt knowing his own execution was not far off. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">What was it like, for him, to live “unreservedly” in the perplexities and struggle of a concentration camp? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">What did it mean "to watch with Christ in Gethsemane"? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Hesychius, a fifth century Greek theologian and church historian, wrote, "We will travel the road of metanoia correctly if, as we begin to give attention to the spirit, we combine humility with watchfulness . . ."<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br />There’s that word again: watchful.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">In some ways, much has changed since I my 2011 post. We've had some tumultuous presidential elections. A pandemic. Divisions in churches, friendships, families. We're surrounded by epidemic anger, grief, anxiety. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">Yet the need for metanoia remains unchanged. John the Baptist's call is as insistent as it was two thousand years ago.<br /><br />Each week I say the prayer of confession with others in my church: "</span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent."</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"> <br /><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">What does it mean to love my neighbor now, in this time, in this place, in this context? How have I fallen short? Am I truly sorry? What would it take to love my neighbor better?<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">I have friends who see repentance in any form as a negative thing, who think that acknowledging wrong is bad for the psyche, that confession of any kind is unnecessary and potentially harmful.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I find it deeply comforting. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I’m not perfect. My attitude, my thoughts, my words, my actions. None are perfect. Not even close. <span style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;">I say the wrong thing and hurt people around me. I get too busy and let people down. I hold fiercely to my own ideas and react with frustration when asked to explain them. I procrastinate when prompted to reach out in ways that might cost me time, or risk my emotional safety.</span></span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And God still loves me. Still surrounds me with his kindness. Still calls me to deeper wisdom, clearer vision, more consistent faithfulness. Forgives my failings, calls me to change, and gives me grace to take the next step forward.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So I ask for grace to move on toward wholeness and holiness, to be able to watch with Christ in Gethsemane, whatever that might mean. I pray for wisdom to inhabit the callings we are all called to: agents of reconciliation. Light in a dark world. People who love in the way we’ve been loved.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And I wait for metanoia, for myself, and for all who claim to follow Jesus: a change of heart, of mind, of life, so we can see and act with a love and wisdom greater than our own. </span></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-63757280298505143052021-06-06T09:47:00.001-04:002021-06-06T09:47:19.490-04:00Owlets, UFOs, Microbes, Miracles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBtx4V72AvNZ4_OFqlfQmR-0Vka1YtIATTow359IWbNnUPwK1nL6skF2CreqYLRlMpRpMqP-ZRAdMwEi5ybddYK44xCgwJthKTE7x75pBN0zmY8lvSaSeEL2YWMwtuOzZ-7I3H84mmyU/s1365/IMG_0722+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="1179" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBtx4V72AvNZ4_OFqlfQmR-0Vka1YtIATTow359IWbNnUPwK1nL6skF2CreqYLRlMpRpMqP-ZRAdMwEi5ybddYK44xCgwJthKTE7x75pBN0zmY8lvSaSeEL2YWMwtuOzZ-7I3H84mmyU/s320/IMG_0722+2.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">On my back patio Wednesday morning, I noticed unusual activity in our littleleaf linden tree. The<br /> house wrens were chattering and darting around, the robins were scolding, the blue jays were dive-bombing in and out at a furious pace. For a moment it looked as if something was falling, a strange grey shape that dropped from a lofty branch but never hit the ground. I watched a few minutes, mystified, then grabbed my binoculars from the patio table and went to investigate.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">From most angles I could see nothing but the small neighborhood birds, darting in and out. Finally, from a back corner of the yard, I saw more grey shapes, two, larger than the blue jays, silently clinging to branches 30 to 40 feet up in the tree. Puzzled, I scanned the nearby branches until I saw a more identifiable shape: an adult great horned owl, peering down at me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I had never seen such young great horned owlets, but some quick research convinced me that's exactly what they were. The birds nest in abandoned squirrel, crow or hawk nests. The owlets emerge from their nests before they're old enough to fly, then spend a few weeks perched on branches, waiting for food, strengthening their wings. They're the most suburban of owls: sometimes nesting in back yards, or busy parks, near highways, anywhere they can find an empty nest high enough for their use. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I wondered if there was a nest hidden high in that tree. There are plenty of squirrels in my yard, but I've never found their nests. I wondered if they'd fledged in the tree itself, and if that other shape I saw was a third baby owl, falling from its branch and grabbing hold of another branch before it hit the ground. I went back to look again later in the day, and sure enough, now there were three, sitting very still with a watchful parent nearby. I took a grainy photo, hoping they'd linger a day or two so someone could come take some better photos before they left, but the next morning the tree was quiet with no sign of baby owls. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've been thinking lately of how very little we really know about the world around us. We've been living through a global science experiment, testing out the efficacy of masks, of vaccines, of social distancing, our lives constrained by invisible microbes unknown and unnamed just two years ago. <span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.genome.gov/about-nhgri/Director/genomics-landscape/june-6-2019-Human-Microbiome_Project#one" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeZapOSOooaFTRgoy1hOhdY67m83x_LITzhyn_ACz0PIMIOxiK5Nh7lMHbjDtkOrCIiB3IHiM5XxtkX7BWzxlOKb4z_nylfqOcdiSxK3oeIw07obvJpWIb2_NDtebNxUge4W3Ty9OBXU/s320/microbiome.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.genome.gov/about-nhgri/Director/genomics-landscape/june-6-2019-Human-Microbiome_Project#one" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Human Biome Project Reaches Completion</span></a></td></tr></tbody></table>In the process, we've also been learning about the world within us: how internal conditions can impact our resistance to disease or help us back to health. <br /><br />I had my first glimpse of the human microbiome three decades ago when our tiny daughter spent weeks on a powerful antibiotic. The medicine was needed to fight life-threatening strep pneumonia, but also killed beneficial bacteria. Her doctors warned it might take years to offset the impacts of that powerful drug. Since then much has been discovered about the human microbiome: the teeming microbial world in our intestinal tracts, respiratory systems, skin and hair. So far researchers have identified over a thousand different microbes helping process food, fight off disease, or causing disruption and harm.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There is so very much we don't see, don't know, don't understand. I suppose with the right equipment, and enough time to spend, I could have tracked those baby owls. But despite huge investments in time and technology, ornithologists are still uncertain about some bird species' breeding grounds, or how birds navigate on long migrations, or how they know when to begin those migrations. <br /><br />Despite plenty of research on how to rebuild a disrupted human biome, there is still much we don't know: does yogurt really help? What about probiotics? Vinegar? Wine? Are there different remedies for different people? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Gathered for pizza last night on my daughter's patio, the conversation turned to alien invaders. I had somehow missed the news this week that aliens had / had not been confirmed in Roswell, New Mexico, UFO capital of the world. After a short amusing discussion, I had no clearer idea of what the news had been. Apparently, <a href="https://www.npr.org/2021/06/04/1003262749/how-ufo-sightings-went-from-conspiracy-theory-to-a-serious-government-inquiry" target="_blank">the news </a>was that there's no news:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span>"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333;">U.S. officials and analysts who examined video footage from U.S. Navy planes and other records say the evidence doesn't point to alien technology — but they also say they can't explain the unusual phenomena."</span> </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.npr.org/2021/06/04/1003262749/how-ufo-sightings-went-from-conspiracy-theory-to-a-serious-government-inquiry" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="1536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfPB88UYwUs7qaGSR05dYokTlJ4BlJEnT5dmGkqZR9cmnRSOPxIlGP-T6SK8d3ISifEvttYcbHYsq5VhRj_qvcR8G3D8P1biI9Kw1m1gw5Xsl6o5BoyQsBHNW334VWtflfP9oVyHuv1A/s320/Roswell.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Our church is studying Acts, and I've been reading in Acts in my morning readings. The coming of the Holy Spirit left the crowd accusing the disciples of being drunk. The healing of a man crippled from birth left the crowds mystified and religious leaders angry. The transformation of Peter from frightened fisherman to fearless preacher and teacher left onlookers perplexed or completely convinced. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I grew up in churches that barricaded themselves against the work of the Spirit: insistent that God worked in signs and wonders in the days of Acts, but those days are over and won't return. I don't remember hearing the term <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cessationism_versus_continuationism" target="_blank">"cessasionist" </a>as a kid, but I do remember lots of talk about "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dispensationalism" target="_blank">dispensationalism</a>," and the grave certainty that God works within defined limits of time and space. I was never sure what those church leaders meant, but quite sure they were wrong.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I remember listening to stories from my grandmothers' friends, missionaries in places like Ethiopia, where they had done spiritual battle with witch doctors, taken part in exorcisms, seen dramatic healings. As women, they were allowed to talk to our gathered Sunday School about planting churches in African villages, but not allowed to tell those dramatic stories. And although they preached and taught in other countries, they were not allowed to speak from the pulpit in the American churches that sent them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We miss so much by our own inattention, our determined refusal to listen, our predetermined categories, our amazing arrogance. We know so little, yet we think we understand enough to say what's real, what's not, what's worth our time, what isn't.<br /><br />Owlets, UFOs, microbes, miracles; we see in part, we know in part. I'm thankful for what we see and know. I'm open to seeing and knowing more. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'll be worshipping in church this morning, taking communion (bread only so far thanks to Covid precautions), ending as we always do with this prayer:<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">Almighty and everliving God,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">of the most precious Body and Blood</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">and for assuring us in these holy mysteries</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">that we are living members of the Body of your Son,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">and heirs of your eternal kingdom.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">And now, Father, send us out</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">to do the work you have given us to do,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">to love and serve you</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit,</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; text-align: justify;">be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.</span> </i></span></p></blockquote>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-74643150779599826552021-05-23T14:23:00.001-04:002021-05-23T14:23:45.764-04:00Prayer for Pentecost: Rooted in Love<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyW_c35rUOgOZeBllj92GyH6nhdvORlbWnJMS9aJ0hJyyIPfo5u8juss9C6zpHukZCUYtSkhay4dj-IDMZy-pJ4Y0mR-3VbOna5SMvCgUBmDwCQpLqKHCVWsmT5LlUmUsuVwaRh4KwP_k/s1244/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+10.05.19+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyW_c35rUOgOZeBllj92GyH6nhdvORlbWnJMS9aJ0hJyyIPfo5u8juss9C6zpHukZCUYtSkhay4dj-IDMZy-pJ4Y0mR-3VbOna5SMvCgUBmDwCQpLqKHCVWsmT5LlUmUsuVwaRh4KwP_k/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+10.05.19+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>Today is my oldest daughter's fortieth birthday. We celebrated last night with a pizza gathering at Charlestown Farm, the beautiful farm where we buy a share every summer. We meet there on Thursday afternoons to collect root crops and greens from the cool lower barn, pick herbs, strawberries, and flowers in the gently rolling fields, and enjoy the swings hung from trees along the hillside.</div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Last night, while we baked pizza in a homemade brick oven and watched purple martins twirl across the recently planted fields, the farm family and friends gathered across the road commemorating the life of the founder, <a href="https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/delawareonline/obituary.aspx?n=marvin-v-andersen&pid=198592854&fhid=4664" target="_blank">Marvin Andersen,</a> who died a few weeks before. His investment in Charlestown Farm continues to bring health and joy to his family, his community, all who share the fruit and beauty of his farm. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Today is also Pentecost Sunday. My younger grandson will be baptized today, with our extended family gathering in church, in person, for the first time in over a year. He's already part of the family, but marking that more formally today: part of our family, part of our church family, part of the borderless family of God.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />I've been reading lately in Ephesians. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I memorized Ephesians 3 long ago, but am newly aware of how tightly connected the strands of this letter are woven. Paul's repetitions of "therefore" and "for this reason" tie the entire letter together, almost as one thought about unity in Christ. Arbitrary chapter divisions obstruct the connections Paul was trying to make: </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text Eph-2-4" id="en-NIV-29234" style="background-color: white;"></span><blockquote><i><span class="text Eph-2-4" id="en-NIV-29234" style="background-color: white;"><b>But because of</b> his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Eph-2-5" id="en-NIV-29235" style="background-color: white;">made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. . . . </span></i></blockquote><span class="text Eph-2-5" id="en-NIV-29235" style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"></span></span></div><blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"><i><b>Therefore,</b> remember . . . now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ.</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;">For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility . . . </span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"><b>Therefore</b>, you are longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God's people and also members of his household, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone. In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in </span><span style="background-color: white;">him you too are being built to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit. </span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span class="text Eph-2-5" style="background-color: white;"><b>For this reason </b>. . . I, Paul, b<span class="text Eph-3-7" id="en-NIV-29259">ecame a servant of this gospel by the gift of God’s grace given me through the working of his power . . . . </span></span><span style="background-color: white;">I ask you, <b>therefore,</b> not to be discouraged because of my sufferings for you, which are your glory.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><b>For this reason</b> I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.</span></i></span></div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The ideas are connected, but they also speak of deep connections in all of heaven and earth, far beyond our understanding. <br /><br />I've been starting my days, now that the weather has warmed, outside on my patio. I read, think, journal, then pause to watching the robins enjoy my birdbath. The yard is full of the sweet scent of locust tree blooms. The bugs drawn to those blooms attract cedar waxwings and great crested flycatchers. I can't always see them, high up in the branches, but I can hear them, chattering and calling. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">See it or not, admit it or not, we are part of a mighty web of interconnected nature. The air we breathe is a gift from the green plants around us. The food we eat is a gift of the soil and sun. My morning coffee is grown on hillsides far from my home, harvested by hands I will never see. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Paul's "therefores" weave it all closer: this is not a world of disparate parts, of aliens and strangers, little islands on our own, answering to no one. We are woven into interconnected families, all rooted and established in love, all bound together by a gracious power far beyond our own. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLWSbplGFkLMvz161n1Mahb5OMFSYF0ibzkFa6AJLNxtQA4K7xWEbvr9Qz-DbS7-JBubsFhQGuJj4ETJC15_TnAR-0kbmL7Eghp2xu-Nc0DuNqMeY5mE-HWhyphenhyphenvEAHXtD-tGLSiZDtgfA/s428/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+10.02.34+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="258" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLWSbplGFkLMvz161n1Mahb5OMFSYF0ibzkFa6AJLNxtQA4K7xWEbvr9Qz-DbS7-JBubsFhQGuJj4ETJC15_TnAR-0kbmL7Eghp2xu-Nc0DuNqMeY5mE-HWhyphenhyphenvEAHXtD-tGLSiZDtgfA/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+10.02.34+AM.png" /></a></span>I sometimes listen to people pronouncing judgement, dividing the world into "them" and "us," and wonder: have you read those words of Ephesians? Have you let that reality sink into your heart, and soul, and bones?<br /><br />I sit on my patio and listen to God's love singing around me: bird families, bug families, woven together with plant families and our own neighborhood human families.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I sat on the hillside yesterday with my children and grandchildren, my daughter's oldest friend, my daughter's husband's parents, and reflected on the ways God weaves us into families. I thought of the ways we become rooted and established in love, over years, decades, llfetimes. Sometimes we catch glimpses of that love, but we will never fully grasp how wide and long and high and deep it is.<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Watching my family, I see and enjoy each one. And I see and enjoy their care for each other: my son walking with his nephew around the distant fields. My older grandson swinging in the trees with my younger grandson, laughing. One daughter spending her day gathering flowers for her sister's party. The childhood friend driving hours to spend the evening with the family, remembering together. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">God loves us all more than any of that. Enjoys us more than the most loving parent enjoys the most devoted child. Delights in our care for each other, our care for those near us, our care for those farther away.<br /><br />The real work of the Holy Spirit, I'm beginning to see, is love: giving us love beyond our own, and helping us see and share that love. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">"The Lord's holy people," I've come to believe, are not the "chosen," the sole recipients of love. We're the ones who have begun to see how amazingly expansive God's love is. We're the ones who have begun to live in that love as dearly loved children. And we're the ones who have begun to treat those around us, those far from us, even those difficult or hostile or completely foreign to us, as dearly loved children as well</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTTPAZ_jarWptj2kchs2V-RTO_xzghIzqd4mXM1kks_x93y-LsQ-ahlDZpwbT0op0KtP0IpwMU9c_u0qbVmCKV8DiFUOMBqk_aA0D9xAVHcYlK0Y7Tqcvkh2IOmrdPNr1Ak03idd8uzU/s1234/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+9.56.24+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1218" data-original-width="1234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbTTPAZ_jarWptj2kchs2V-RTO_xzghIzqd4mXM1kks_x93y-LsQ-ahlDZpwbT0op0KtP0IpwMU9c_u0qbVmCKV8DiFUOMBqk_aA0D9xAVHcYlK0Y7Tqcvkh2IOmrdPNr1Ak03idd8uzU/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-23+at+9.56.24+AM.png" width="320" /></a></div>Here's the awareness I pray for us today: that we will see how much we are loved, but also how much others are loved. All of us: near and far. We are not foreigners and strangers. We are not members of different tribes, distant households. We are not divided between the loved and unloved, those within and those without God's love and care. God's infinite love includes us all, surrounds us all. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Every piece of creation, every person ever made, is part of this mystery, made alive to us by the working of the Spirit: </span><i style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></i><div><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.</i></span></blockquote><p></p></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-67408878511681737692021-05-16T17:56:00.001-04:002021-05-16T17:56:10.979-04:00Nurturing Connections<p><span style="font-family: arial;">As of Thursday, I'm now fully vaccinated.<br /><br />And as of Thursday, CDC Director Rochelle Walensky announced: <span style="background-color: white; color: #16183a; letter-spacing: -0.08px; white-space: pre-line;">“Anyone who is fully vaccinated can participate in indoor and outdoor activities, large or small, without wearing a mask or physical distancing. If you are fully vaccinated, you can start doing the things that you had stopped doing because of the pandemic.”</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">So last night, meeting members of our family for outdoor pizza, as we've been doing in good weather since the pandemic started, we gave them all hugs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This morning, my husband Whitney and I attended church indoors together, for the first time since March 2020. It was wonderful to be in church again, to see people I hadn't seen since our outdoor worship ended late last fall. It was wonderful to pray together, to take communion, to feel the words of worship wash over us.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The pews had blue painters tape, marking where to sit to maintain social distance. We did our best to respect that. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Most parishioners were wearing masks, as were we. A few were not.<br /><br />The worship team sang. Most parishioners didn't.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Most took communion. A few did not.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Does any of that matter? Is anyone keeping score?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">It's been a hard, strange year for churches. Changing guidelines forced creative response, investment in new technologies, hard conversations. Divided attitudes on everything from masks to electoral outcomes made some church sanctuaries feel unsafe or unwelcoming. Friends report leaving churches where the conflict became too destructive. Some pastors we know are exhausted: whatever they do, whatever they say, there's someone just waiting to attack. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Our own church seems to have weathered the storm fairly well, but I find myself wondering, and praying, for the church writ large. Stats show that among younger generations, engagement with church in any way is dropping fast. Emotional distress is rising: anxiety, depression, loneliness.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://mothertreeproject.org/about-mother-trees-in-the-forest/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUFiPgJAznxqbgS4RpsH0-SFMDJUl-h_ApVAYNqL5xZtkEZHaW5S9L-D9DX9YpYRNVMext0_OOkETsD7AkAVYDTHuZoqTrvzpztImrFWeqgFMFq7CL5brjIQKeqOaw7BCS4C_SPUgZMQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-09+at+8.17.47+AM.png" /></a></span><span style="font-family: arial;">If we're the body of Christ, are we a healthy body?<br /></span><br /><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Last week I wrote about the book </a><span style="font-family: arial;">my daughter gave me: </span><b style="font-family: arial;">Finding the Mother Tree.</b><span style="font-family: arial;"> I've been reading it, puzzling over descriptions of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial;">mycelium and m</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: arial;">ycorrhizae: the underground network of microbes connecting trees, plants, and fungi. When those connections are healthy, young plants thrive. When connections are lost, young plants are at risk. </span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">During my years of youth ministry, I became aware of Search Institute's <a href="https://www.search-institute.org/our-research/development-assets/developmental-assets-framework/" target="_blank">Deve</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #232122; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.search-institute.org/our-research/development-assets/developmental-assets-framework/" target="_blank">lopmental Assets® Framework</a></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">, 20 external resources young people need in order to nurture 20 internal strengths. Several I spent time thinking and strategizing about:<br /></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: center;"></span><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: center;">Young person receives support from three or more non-parent adults.<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;">You</span><span face="Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">ng person perceives that adults in the community value youth.</span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: center;"> </span></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: center;"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-align: center;">It seemed to me then that if kids knew and trusted at least a few adults within the church, that would help build an understanding of personal faith at different stages of maturity and provide a future resource when crises of faith emerged.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">I've learned since that that need doesn't stop when teens graduate from high school or college. I remember with thanks the warm older adults I knew during my first years after college. I give thanks for Bible studies I was part of where Christians just a bit older, sometimes decades older, shared their faith, listened to my worries, regularly prayed for my concerns.<br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">One challenge of this past year has been that the informal rhythms of relationship our church worked hard to develop were interrupted when we moved to virtual worship. Will we find ways to reclaim what was lost?<br /><br />In many US churches, demographics find themselves siloed: teens; college students; young single adults; young parents and children; older single adults; older couples. <br /><br />I need prayer from people older than me: from people who have weathered the first years of retirement, who have lost spouses, who have learned to move slowly with dignity and grace. <br /><br />I need insight from people younger than me: young women still bumping their heads against invisible ceilings. Young moms struggling to balance expectations and demands and too little time. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://blog.search-institute.org/preparing-transition-middle-school-high-school-infographic" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1403" data-original-width="504" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaiRC50ytgWLVyXoUCZQp8PUt3KusV37F-b_yIl5MblQdRUrmu1OIr5qos_QofayjVgY5a1UxMr-CaP7zL8FZcAv_E558XPN7e_n_jFmvC19Qg5W3RX2jUH0M_CmI1aw_vuQUCUjwWEjo/w230-h640/5-Keys-to-strong-parent-youth-relationships_0.png" width="230" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blog.search-institute.org/preparing-transition-middle-school-high-school-infographic" target="_blank"><br /></a></td></tr></tbody></table>We all need conversation and friendship from people unlike us: older, younger, single, married, working hard in tough careers, learning new hobbies, processing illness and loss and change. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">The pandemic shattered some of those connections. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">So did the harsh partisan climate we've been living through.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="text-align: center;">I'm okay, but are there others who aren't? <br /><br />Digging through Search Institute materials this afternoon, reminding myself that nurturing relationships take time and intention, I found a resource,<a href="https://www.search-institute.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/Coronavirus-checklist-Search-Institute.pdf?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Kent%20DR%20with%20COVID-19&utm_content=Kent%20DR%20with%20COVID-19+CID_92726a4a94ef6645c44036ffd3316568&utm_source=Email%20marketing%20software&utm_term=Building%20Developmental%20Relationships%20During%20the%20COVID-19%20Crisis" target="_blank"> A Coronavirus Checklist</a> for parents and teachers, one I'll be using as a prayer prompt in the days ahead, not just as I think of kids in my life, but beyond that. We all need someone to express care, challenge growth, provide support, share power and expand possibilities, no matter how old we are.<br /><br />And we all, always, need prayer: an essential part of that invisible network of communication and resource. Not starting with us, not ending with us. Fueled, always, by love far beyond our own. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-32498409148304556852021-05-09T08:41:00.002-04:002021-05-09T08:53:42.478-04:00Becoming a Mother Tree<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSFhpq4CXRRCXN8zhtFgtPc87lg0mqHdGAUObLilqf3P_3jVxBgDVuQOfJ6bOVZP3qarsm-OizJyNGn8cyX-Ouh7SacgGriI38uG03fbAx6UJH_CHfQKm90xJuwCHxaGfv2tNKY_Q07A/s499/finding+the+mother+tree.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="329" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOSFhpq4CXRRCXN8zhtFgtPc87lg0mqHdGAUObLilqf3P_3jVxBgDVuQOfJ6bOVZP3qarsm-OizJyNGn8cyX-Ouh7SacgGriI38uG03fbAx6UJH_CHfQKm90xJuwCHxaGfv2tNKY_Q07A/s320/finding+the+mother+tree.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">One of my daughter's gave me a perfect Mother's Day gift: <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-the-mother-tree-suzanne-simard/1138493498;jsessionid=2AFD3925759D5228F6C36C207871FD8F.prodny_store01-atgap03?ean=9780525656098" target="_blank">Finding the Mother Tree, Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest</a>, by Suzanne Simard. I heard her on an interview this week, so was thrilled to be given the book, although I'm not quite sure when I'll find time to read it.<br /><br />The book is part memoir of Simard's career in forestry, part exploration of new theories about how forests work. Her thesis: plants communicate through an underground mycorrhizal network and share resources that flow from hub trees, "mother trees," to places of greatest need. Forests with healthy older trees, can adjust more easily to environmental stressors. With multiple hub trees, overlapping networks of connection make a forest more resilient.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I haven't yet read the book, and even if I had, wouldn't be able to give the breadth of depth of her research in just a few short paragraphs. What I heard, as I listened to the interview, was a reflection of what I know to be true in the human forests around me. Urban neighborhoods with a strong Mother Tree in place are healthier, and happier. Churches blessed with wise, generous Mother Trees can withstand stresses and nurture younger believers better than those without. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My own grandmother was a Mother Tree. Elda Capra was fifth of 9 children in a poor rural family, ran away at 13, married at 16. She came to faith listening to a itinerant evangelist on a street corner in Oklahoma sometime in her early twenties, when she was already the mother of three small boys. In an angry, abusive marriage, she immersed herself in scripture and prayer. By her sixties she had become a hub of nurture for dozens of families who looked to her for prayer, advice and wisdom. I watched from the edges of that as her own years of struggle were turned to grace for other families in their own times of stress. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Another Mother Tree was Doris Neilson, director of the camp where I worked in my college years. She had lost a child in a camp riflery accident, yet continued her camp work without reserve. In a time and context when so many others were telling young women, "No, you can't," her message was always, "you can." That message still ripples through the lives of so many of us. When everyone else insisted we follow, Doris saw us as leaders, and showed us what that looked like.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">My mother-in-law, Althea Kuniholm, is another Mother Tree. Now 92, she is still writing poetry, still prompting those around her to read, and think, and talk, still inventing games and investing time and love in children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. <br /><br />Of course Mother Trees don't need to be mothers. They don't need to be women. They DO need to be wiling to put give more than they get, to listen well, to share beyond their own control. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The image Jesus used wasn't of a tree, but a vine. Our sermon last week was from John 15, a passage I memorized as a kid because I found it so comforting: <br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Our rector, Richard Morgan, told of his experience seeing the the Great Vine of Hampton Court</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">, the palace of Henry VIII built in the early 1500s. The vine was planted in 1768 and is now the largest and oldest in the world. It yields over 600 pounds of grapes a year. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Richard focused on pruning, an important part of that passage in John, and of that metaphor. But my interest has always been in that sense of connection: if you remain in me, and I in you, you will bear much fruit. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://mothertreeproject.org/about-mother-trees-in-the-forest/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1046" data-original-width="650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig3kk0uqhcKzOorRkl3RpLqE6zRID2jr-XBVOI0h30c2J_JUssF4Z1qiZLvEm3haD8-wub8L0wk_SIvsrh2PBBwazq2lB7R8wmQsyRL1caouN8z6LXdynn4h-mQrx5PXHdJMiDcaqC6SM/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-05-09+at+8.17.47+AM.png" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">The idea of hub trees takes the metaphor to another level, one that resonates with my own experience of </span><span style="font-family: arial;">prayer and time spent with others: when we remain in Christ, grace flows from us to others. When we stay open to connections, available to others, open to God's leading, invisible networks of mercy draw us closer together and others, more fragile, more lonely, find shelter in an ever expanding network of care. Then we ourselves, in our times of sadness, or need, or frailty, find comfort and care in that same network we've helped to nurture. </span><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For some, Mother's Day can be a lonely day, a day of sadness, regret, "if only", "I wish." We don't all have warm relationships with mothers or children. For some, the day can be a reminder of how very alone we feel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But we are all part of an invisible network. We all draw sustenance, in some way, from others. We all can become part of those channels of grace for someone more fragile than ourselves. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I have much more to learn about Mother Trees. More to learn about how that might apply to my own small backyard woods, to my own human networks. I have more to learn about becoming a healthy Mother Tree myself. <br /><br />But today, I celebrate the Mother Trees in my life, the networks I live in, the grace every part of those networks share with me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Thanks for being part of that. Happy Mother's Day. </span></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Y1z_wSQ0owg?start=8" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-32338636725935511582021-05-02T09:06:00.001-04:002021-05-02T09:06:13.911-04:00WHO is my neighbor?<p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1rtG3GJ3EySGIc1nqahXxbl2VQLjuzvZz744MzNX_Ol1SNO7Mc6TFBIY8p6i2tHXcoOxJAqUaOensk8IWoFxaLe0Zx9dozTiyk8bEU39ItsYwlSbiBJGKm8Umb5Eezm1DoqxbrP5nDg/s245/goodsamaritansquare-245x245.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF1rtG3GJ3EySGIc1nqahXxbl2VQLjuzvZz744MzNX_Ol1SNO7Mc6TFBIY8p6i2tHXcoOxJAqUaOensk8IWoFxaLe0Zx9dozTiyk8bEU39ItsYwlSbiBJGKm8Umb5Eezm1DoqxbrP5nDg/s0/goodsamaritansquare-245x245.jpeg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I had my second Moderna vaccination on Thursday, in a very organized, well-run mass vaccination site two counties away. I was grateful to the volunteers staffing the desks, grateful to the recently-retired pharmacist who cheerfully jabbed my arm, grateful to the medical researchers and production managers and every person along the way from idea to inception to injection. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">This week, while looking forward to that moment on my calendar, I was also listening to news about a COVID outbreak in India. On NPR I heard stories of overwhelmed emergency rooms, listened to a reporter describe the constant sound of sirens in the streets of Mombia. Early in the week there were desperate please for US intervention, then of President Biden's conversation with India's Prime Minister Narendra Modi and the promise to provide oxygen and vaccination production supplies on the same day the US agreed to share up to 60 million doses of AstraZeneca doses with undersupplied countries. </span><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For me, one of the emotional challenges of this pandemic has been the pressing awareness of great need and of my own inability to help.<br /><br />There are small things I can do, for family and friends who are struggling, or for groups in need beyond my easy reach. <br /><br />But the need has been huge and my reach has been in many ways smaller than usual: I can't have friends bring their kids to spend the weekend. I can't come hang out for the day to give. young mom a break. Of course there are things I can do, ways I engage, yet in the face of huge need, it all seems too small. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwyCw_Lw0xJ6XZrJMqHxtYDQDnfp1zDmmw4JIk2XkOVHdmNY3YXacgLagbx4Edh9hWLA0AwYzFwdWtjzyGAXVXMEYlR2Sgv8Lafj5bcuGXBEZpm51-l3s0G6kC_pMKZpJaT2Tj-c1OnA/s120/Screen+Shot+2021-05-02+at+8.27.21+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="120" data-original-width="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwyCw_Lw0xJ6XZrJMqHxtYDQDnfp1zDmmw4JIk2XkOVHdmNY3YXacgLagbx4Edh9hWLA0AwYzFwdWtjzyGAXVXMEYlR2Sgv8Lafj5bcuGXBEZpm51-l3s0G6kC_pMKZpJaT2Tj-c1OnA/s0/Screen+Shot+2021-05-02+at+8.27.21+AM.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I attend the Church of the Good Samaritan, a congregation that takes seriously the call to be a compassionate neighbor. Our logo is a graphic rendering of a statue that lived for years in the church entry. I walked by it almost daily during the eleven years I worked as youth pastor. That call to be a good samaritan is visceral to me: if you are in pain, I am in pain. I believe with all my heart: we all thrive when we all thrive, and only then. We all rest when we all can rest. Not until then. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Those values were baked into me long before we landed at the Church of the Good Samaritan. My childhood family was the family in need, four kids and a grandmother who worked for minimum wage, always needing rides, resources, help of any kind. The churches we attended were under-resourced themselves but never failed to pick us up, get us where we needed to go. They provided shelter when we would have been homeless. They made sure we went to camp every summer so our grandmother could work.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Part of the emotional exhaustion of this past year has been the challenge in every direction: neighbors in need everywhere I look. <br /><br />Who hasn't struggled with anxiety, isolation, fear of illness, grief at the divided political discourse?<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Add the complicated challenges around racial justice, unjust policing, inequitable health care, COVID lockdowns colliding with mass incarceration. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I have always found it a challenge to stay open to the pain of the world without becoming incapacitated by complexity. I'm good at compartmentalizing: putting hard emotions into cupboards in my heart and mind, to consider when the time is right, to hold until there's space to resolve. But what if every cupboard is full? What if every complex emotion is stashed away because there's no way, ever, to resolve them?<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In 2016, I wrote about a fractured time and a sermon on the Good Samaritan. Rereading that post this morning, I find it speaks to me. It reminds me of what I've learned since then, and what I still need to learn. <br /><br />Rather than pull pieces that fit today's context, I'm sharing it here. A sermon to myself. <span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;">In</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> a time like this, tell me: who is my neighbor?</span></span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Philando Castile? Worked in the same school cafeteria for thirteen years. Wore his hair in dreadlocks. Pulled over for driving with a broken headlight. Shot four times in the side when he reached for his ID.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Who is my neighbor?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">His girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, pleading: “Please don’t let him bleed out. Please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Who is my neighbor?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The officer, standing beside the car, watching the bleeding man die. Is he my neighbor too?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I am helpless to help them. Helpless to change the system that they live in. A system that incarcerates <a href="https://www.hrw.org/reports/2000/usa/Rcedrg00-01.htm" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">one in ten young black men</a>, funds our small cities on <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-watch/wp/2014/09/03/how-st-louis-county-missouri-profits-from-poverty/" style="color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">petty fines charged</a> to black men driving broken down cars, insists we can all have guns then shoots black men for having them, sends their grieving, angry children to broken, underfunded schools. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Our rector, Richard Morgan, began the sermon this morning noting that we read Jesus’ parable as instruction: love your neighbor as yourself. Go and do likewise.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But then he gently pried us loose from our normal interpretation: look at the context.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A teacher of the lawyer asks “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jesus answers with a question: “What does the law say?” </span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’ and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”<o:p> </o:p>“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”<o:p> </o:p>But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”</span></i></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><o:p> </o:p>When my kids were small we had a book called “Who Is My Neighbor?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 1px 1px 5px; color: #222222; float: left; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 5px; position: relative;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhalenGaNkA0OOQIFsLUqQp7g4_0Yi7BvAZzxvPhQunlPFit4098aaTEjzDqhmgReYp8wORCwvvYKC4W4AprZipnXDRbe2P0or4rnHtgIr7Tbn7nKKl-TZUui-cXb1gRmGHzicauZxmrQ/s1600/Samaritan+Ernst+Barlach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #1177cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhalenGaNkA0OOQIFsLUqQp7g4_0Yi7BvAZzxvPhQunlPFit4098aaTEjzDqhmgReYp8wORCwvvYKC4W4AprZipnXDRbe2P0or4rnHtgIr7Tbn7nKKl-TZUui-cXb1gRmGHzicauZxmrQ/s400/Samaritan+Ernst+Barlach.jpg" style="background: transparent; border: none; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative;" width="283" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">The Good Samaritan, Ernst Barlach, Berlin 1919</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It wound its way through distant countries, depicting children of every shade, leaning toward a simple conclusion: “A neighbor is someone who needs my help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That simple.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As Richard humorously suggested, it would really help if we could narrow it down: seven houses to the left, seven to the right.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If my neighbor is a woman in Minnesota slowly losing control as she sees her loved one dying AND my neighbor is a slow moving man in Baton Rouge afraid of going back to prison because he can’t keep up with child support payments AND the grieving communities in Dallas and Orlando AND every man, woman, child oppressed and afflicted by systems so broken and corrupt we’ve lost any hope of change, I quit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s not possible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Which is, apparently, the point.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I can’t love my neighbor as myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Can’t put a dent in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Can’t even come close.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As our good rector so gently made clear, WE are not the good Samaritan.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That role belongs to Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When he told the story, Jesus was on the road to Jerusalem to give his life for every battered, broken, smashed-up sorry soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">He is the good Samaritan. First, last, only.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">If we’re going to find ourselves in the story, it’s as the dying traveler beset by robbers, ignored by the pious leaders hurrying past.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Even so, the parable’s ending doesn’t change: </span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”<o:p> </o:p>The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”<o:p> </o:p>Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”</span></i></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Go and do likewise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I’ve been praying back through the tragedies of the week from a different point of view.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I have no solace to offer, no wisdom, no aid.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I am not the good Samaritan. I can’t even picture what that would be. Don’t see a way to help. Don’t even see a way to pray.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But I find myself thinking about the way Jesus became like us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Took on our form, our sorrow, our humanity.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Chose to identify himself with us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Chose to love us as himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In our prayer of confession, I find myself lingering on the word “we.” </span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent, for the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.</span></i></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Our failure is both singular and corporate. I have not loved.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">WE have not loved.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">How often we misuse that word we: we want our country back. We want to keep our guns. We want our streets safe. We deserve better.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes our “we” is national, regional. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes it’s tinged with race, class, gender.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Too often it carries a sense of privilege, offense, self-justification, exclusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Maybe our first step toward healing is to see that we – all of us, weak, powerful, faithless, full of faith, white, black, citizen, stranger, male, female, other – we are all broken travelers on the side of the road. All helpless, hopeless, in need of care.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We judge too quickly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We hurry by.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We look for quick fixes, easy answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We begrudge what it would cost to set our neighbors on a path toward wholeness.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The Samaritan risked his life, his time, his comfort to take the wounded stranger to shelter.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Leveraged his physical and financial resources to provide care for someone who had no claim on him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Insisted he would pay whatever needed. The debt would be on him.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We fall so far short. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Every day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In our policies, our practices, our prejudices, our superficial moments of silent prayer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We have not loved our neighbors as our selves.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">We don’t know how.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As I rest again in the words of our confession, I’m reminded that we start with acknowledgement of failure. We start with full repentance, honest sorrow, but we don’t end there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;">As we are healed by God’s mercy, by the kindness of our Good Samaritan, we gain courage and strength to walk in his ways, loving our neighbors as ourselves.</span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Which of these three do you think was a neighbor?</span></i></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">The one who had mercy.</span></i></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Go and do likewise.</span></i></blockquote>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-42005021366619899022021-04-25T15:48:00.004-04:002021-04-25T15:48:54.274-04:00Heal the Land<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEHbX4u12lmlpjwMk35urSF2v-WWPSRSchI1BpkSAbPTY5pskeS3RO1N2cMjrjt-Y0m4bM8pkt1dRDrDnIkVrs1rPxiPqam4g-QJNH1bio9Konrr7T2FNwDyl82jinwR3g3wbvBs88ok/s1322/Three_Mile_Island_1979-04-11.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvEHbX4u12lmlpjwMk35urSF2v-WWPSRSchI1BpkSAbPTY5pskeS3RO1N2cMjrjt-Y0m4bM8pkt1dRDrDnIkVrs1rPxiPqam4g-QJNH1bio9Konrr7T2FNwDyl82jinwR3g3wbvBs88ok/s320/Three_Mile_Island_1979-04-11.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm planning a <a href="https://www.fairdistrictspa.com/events/2021/04/29/susquehanna-river-crossing-senate-district-48" target="_blank">canoe/kayak trip</a> across the Susquehanna River this week, to demonstrate a gerrymandered district with one part on the eastern side of the river, and another, cut off by the river, with no way across except by boat unless you drive through neighboring districts. If you're in the area and have some free time, please join me!<br /><br />Our river crossing will go just above Three Mile Island, the site of the worst nuclear accident in US history. The reactor was built on a sandbar in the river, a river that provides drinking water for millions in Pennsylvania and Maryland and supplies half the fresh water for the Chesapeake Bay, the largest estuary in the country. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Just five years after the reactor was built in 1974, a broken pressure valve set off a series of misguided responses that yielded a partial meltdown, internal explosions and release of radiation into the air. The impacted reactor was never reopened. Another reactor continued in use until 2019. For forty years, there have been unanswered questions about what really happened, long-term impacts, and cost and implications of plans to fully decommission the reactors. </span></p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42A2OWLniGpC5a0il40ipztCsSKlM4447W9t7LLYB2CBU8ZIWxJtJTQRbU3FxpJ7ih4_KZIccSybPXcgP2rlIyu6nFd2A5nJGEXZvMQpM0uhFuByQK13mfayAbegJ4FxT6ZBDrxxzBoM/s300/NICHOLAS+A.+TONELLI+%2528FLICKR.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi42A2OWLniGpC5a0il40ipztCsSKlM4447W9t7LLYB2CBU8ZIWxJtJTQRbU3FxpJ7ih4_KZIccSybPXcgP2rlIyu6nFd2A5nJGEXZvMQpM0uhFuByQK13mfayAbegJ4FxT6ZBDrxxzBoM/w213-h320/NICHOLAS+A.+TONELLI+%2528FLICKR.jpeg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Nicholas L. Tonelli, Flickr</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">Thursday, April 22, was Earth Day. I thought of that this morning, when my reading in Psalms spoke of jubilant rivers, joyful forest, mountains singing for joy. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Just last week <a href="https://ohiorivervalleyinstitute.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Repairing-the-Damage-from-Hazardous-AOG-Wells-Report.pdf" target="_blank">a new report</a> on abandoned coal fields identified Pennsylvania and West Virginia as home to "roughly half the unreclaimed acres and two-thirds of the cost." <a href="https://ohiorivervalleyinstitute.org/repairing-the-damage/" target="_blank">Another study </a>described hundreds of thousands of orphan gas and oil wells in just four states, including Pennsylvania, leaking oil and gas into water, land and air. <a href="https://www.fairdistrictspa.com/events/2021/04/29/susquehanna-river-crossing-senate-district-48" target="_blank">Yet another report</a> gave four of Pennsylvania's most populous counties an F on air quality. Five others, including my own, scored a D. In 31 of our 67 counties, data is incomplete or non-existent. PA regulators apparently would like us to believe what we don't know can't hurt us. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In 2012, just a year into this blog, I wrote a post called <a href="Earth Day Shalom: Ripples of Resurrection" target="_blank">Earth Day Shalom: Ripple of Resurrection</a>.</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"></span><blockquote><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I’m not a farmer, or environmental scientist. But my knowledge of Christ’s shalom calls me to extend that experience of welcome and safe haven. On our own suburban half-acre, I’ve been working to build a </span><a href="http://bringingnaturehome.net/native-gardening/gardening-for-life" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">place of sanctuary</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> for bugs, butterflies, and birds. Native plantings, non-chemical lawn care, and lots of bird feeders and water supplies have helped create an oasis of bird song. Nesting in our yard this year are bluebirds, downy and red-bellied woodpeckers, tufted titmice, chickadees, white throated and song sparrows, blue jays, cardinals, and two very dignified crows.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I know, though, that the world is bigger than my yard. Over the years I’ve helped plant trees on a city street, organized landscape days for a local elementary school, planted wildflowers around the edge of a townhouse complex. I’m currently trying to help organize a group of stewards for a neglected wetland near our home.</span></i></blockquote></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Looking back, I can see the ways God has led me ever deeper into a vision of connection: interwoven relationships between people, places, ideas, actions. Back in 2012, I quoted <span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Nicholas Wolterstorff's </span><a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=CDoZadezFsIC&pg=PA142&lpg=PA142&dq=educating+for+shalom+dwelling+at+peace&source=bl&ots=BQib1HHdK7&sig=ovT8k99QorATWTQEGmciwFs6wk8&hl=en&sa=X&ei=fBKUT42PD-_46QHK4fysBA&ved=0CCwQ6AEwAA#v=onepage&q&f=" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">Educating for Shalom</a><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">:</span></span><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;">“…Shalom is the human being dwelling at peace in all his or her relationships: with God, with self, with fellows, with nature. . . But the peace which is shalom is not merely the absence of hostility, not merely being in the right relationship. Shalom at its highest is enjoyment in one’s relationships. A nation may be at peace with all its neighbors and yet be miserable in its poverty. To dwell in shalom is to enjoy living before God, to enjoy living in one’s physical surroundings, to enjoy living with one’s fellows, to enjoy life with oneself. . .”</span></i></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Resurrection is practiced in part in harmony with God and ourselves, but also in a broader canvas: as good news to a broken, battered world. Like it or not, we operate, every day, in economic, political and environmental contexts. In THOSE contexts God invites us to act as agents of reconciliation and resurrection:</span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; text-align: right;"></div><p><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial;"><i>If the resurrection was the sign of the great reversal, it was also the sign of the coming shalom. When the resurrected Jesus greeted his friends, his first words were “peace be with you.” In his letter to the Colossians, Paul insists that all creation is woven together by the creative, sustaining power of Jesus himself, and that the resurrection is the start of reconciliation and God’s shalom for “all things - on earth - or in heaven,” not just for humans, but for all creation.</i></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span face=""Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial;">In the past nine years, I've learned a great deal about the systems and structures of power and economic reality that prioritize profit over people. I've looked into the eyes of political and corporate agents who will do and say whatever is needed to ensure their own profit and power. I've seen good people pulled into destructive actions, complicit in things they know are wrong. And I've seen many of God's people construct convoluted arguments defending the destruction of creation and shalom.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I asked nine years ago: <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">As a child of God, what role do I have in seeing the world freed from its bondage to decay, not just in the future, but now? Is it enough to sign a petition against fracking,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> or do I need to do more? Is it enough to buy organic, local food, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">or do I need to speak out on behalf of sustainable farming?</span></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"></span></span><p></p><span style="font-family: arial;">What I've learned since then is that speaking out on specific issues will do little good until we address the structures of power themselves: structures that enhance the flow of corporate money into the halls of government, systems that deliberately divide and conceal to undermine any attempt at change.<br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />I still spend time doing what I can to heal my own little corner of the earth. As I do, I find insects I never saw before, birds I never heard, toads and snakes and fox and owls enjoying our little sanctuary. But I also find myself living a broader construct, working for fair elections, fair legislative policy. Looking for ways to wrest power from from destructive forces and to find ways to amplify the voices of the poor, the misplaced, the invisible and overlooked,<br /><br />I've learned that as we commit to act as agents of resurrection, that obedience can lead into unexpected places and demand use of heart and mind, energy and time, resources we didn't know we had. </span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I've also learned that as we learn to love what God loves, as we ask to see what God sees, we discover untapped reservoirs of grace, beauty, community and love. We see hints of God's kingdom on earth. We're drawn into new experiences of shalom. We find new fellowship with God, creation, and others as we pray and work for God's kingdom here on earth. </span></div></div><div><p><br /></p>
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Q9oAJSsbA6U?start=3" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Porters' Gate songs have become the soundtrack of this strange, pandemic season: songs of justice, lament, work and neighbor. This one reminds me of our calling, one we can never accomplish on our own: Heal the land, meet the need, set the captives free. </span></div><h1 class="title style-scope ytd-video-primary-info-renderer" style="background: rgb(249, 249, 249); border: 0px; color: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-color, var(--yt-spec-text-primary)); font-weight: 400; line-height: var(--yt-navbar-title-line-height, 2.4rem); margin: 0px; max-height: calc(2 * var(--yt-navbar-title-line-height, 2.4rem)); overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; text-shadow: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-text-shadow, none); transform: var(--ytd-video-primary-info-renderer-title-transform, none);"><yt-formatted-string class="style-scope ytd-video-primary-info-renderer" enable-empty-style-class="" force-default-style="" style="word-break: break-word;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">The Porter's Gate - The Earth Shall Know (feat. Casey J, Leslie Jordan & Urban Doxology)</span></yt-formatted-string></h1>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-79145647764164797672021-04-18T10:34:00.004-04:002021-04-18T10:35:34.520-04:00Setting Captives Free<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-f_ltpdoDs_dgw4IoLj8NagIVJHmwcI7Rb6kAUpunCJti3yz5iNaIlDrZc_8vzenu6WHkguU7PvEI_2c20saVAb2kox6Jl6aP-7sKwC1YkaQii7epCI1uQw1lBO5wKwLVXIuKdn8PQ0/s966/Screen+Shot+2021-04-18+at+7.46.44+AM.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="966" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR-f_ltpdoDs_dgw4IoLj8NagIVJHmwcI7Rb6kAUpunCJti3yz5iNaIlDrZc_8vzenu6WHkguU7PvEI_2c20saVAb2kox6Jl6aP-7sKwC1YkaQii7epCI1uQw1lBO5wKwLVXIuKdn8PQ0/w320-h319/Screen+Shot+2021-04-18+at+7.46.44+AM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">from<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rita_Corbin" target="_blank"> Works of Mercy, Rita Corbin</a>, Catholic Worker, New York, ca 1970</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text Luke-4-18" id="en-NIV-25082" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="woj">The Spirit of the Lord is on me,</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="position: relative;"><span class="woj">because he has anointed me</span></span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="position: relative;"><span class="woj">to proclaim good news to the poor.</span></span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="woj">He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="position: relative;"><span class="woj">and recovery of sight for the blind,</span></span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="text Luke-4-18" style="background-color: white; position: relative;"><span class="woj">to set the oppressed free,</span></span><br style="background-color: white;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white;"><span class="text Luke-4-19" id="en-NIV-25083" style="position: relative;"><span class="woj"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; left: -4.4em; line-height: normal; position: absolute; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;">19 </span><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="line-height: 0;"> </span>to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.</span></span></span><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">That was the proclamation of Jesus' intent, read from Isaiah at the start of his public ministry. Some of that work was done in the few short years before his death. Some was accomplished in his death and resurrection. In Ephesians Paul wrote, "<span style="background-color: white;">When he ascended on high, he led captivity captive": further proclamation of freedom; further setting the oppressed free.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">But we know that work continues. In one church I attended, a new rector preached on that text from Luke 4, then asked every parishioner to memorize it. <br /><br />If you wonder what God is calling you to, he told us, wonder no more. It's right here: <br /></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">proclaim good news to the poor</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">proclaim freedom for the prisoners</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">engage in acts of healing</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">set the oppressed free</span></span></li></ul><span style="font-family: arial;">He offended some parishioners by moving quickly to expand the church's work with the homeless. Soon our church was one of a coalition of congregations operating a day-center with showers, laundry facilities, computers and volunteer counselors ready to help navigate the challenges confronting someone trying to rebuild a broken life. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I thought of him yesterday, listening to the sixth of a series of regional forums on prison gerrymandering I helped organize and lead. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">How is it that a nation claiming to be Christian has the highest incarceration rate on the planet?<br /><br />How is it that people claiming to be followers of Christ are often the loudest proponents of tough-on-crime policies that warehouse kids and young adults most oppressed by racism, poverty and inequitable school funding?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">April is "Second Chance Month" in Pennsylvania, a celebration of the Clean Slate Act passed in 2020, to seal the criminal records of non-violent offenders after specific crime-free periods, depending on the initial offense.<br /><br />But as one of the speakers on our forum said yesterday, what about a first chance? How many in PA prisons are serving decades, even life sentences, for things done as kids, without ever having a chance to grow, to learn, to catch a glimpse of a promising future?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzZSSbH2IAqVxyTOatReIlO0zbG3u-YNo_B9VpufeCCcITBM5kqtXDniBK2DAY9XNI-Z7GW4dofDZviUwvI7az1ppILpH5vKe2LObtf5T8ku1ZYO697V4cX_4nSpGhUWJlyp3w6lMb2w/s836/Screen+Shot+2021-04-18+at+7.28.18+AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="836" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzZSSbH2IAqVxyTOatReIlO0zbG3u-YNo_B9VpufeCCcITBM5kqtXDniBK2DAY9XNI-Z7GW4dofDZviUwvI7az1ppILpH5vKe2LObtf5T8ku1ZYO697V4cX_4nSpGhUWJlyp3w6lMb2w/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-04-18+at+7.28.18+AM.png" width="320" /></a></span>I've been carrying some heavy statistics these past few week, stats comparing the US to other nations. We have the highest per-capita incarceration rates in the word, far out-pacing other NATO nations. And PA has the highest percent of juvenile lifers on the planet: as of 2018, 1 in 5 juvenile lifers in the US were right here in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania. <br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Some of them have since been released, thanks to the Supreme Court's decision in 2012 that sentencing juveniles to life without parole is cruel and unusual punishment. Several of those who have been released have been part of our panels in the last few weeks. They served decades for things done in their teens. Now they're working to help friends in prison gain their freedom and rebuild their lives. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Our forums have looked at the intersection between prison gerrymandering, unjust prison policies, neglect of impacted communities, mass incarceration. One of our presenters yesterday mentioned Hebrews 13: 3: </span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></i></span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;">Continue to remember those in </span><span style="background-color: white;">prison</span><span style="background-color: white;"> as if you were together with them in </span><span style="background-color: white;">prison</span><span style="background-color: white;">, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.</span></span></i></blockquote><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I wrote about that text in 2012, as I tried to think through my own political platform: <a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/08/remember-those-in-prison.html" target="_blank">Remember those in prison. </a><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I shared lots of stats. Here's a sampling (accurate in 2012):<br /></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">One in </span><a href="http://www.pewstates.org/research/data-visualizations/the-high-cost-of-corrections-in-america-infographic-85899397897" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">104 American adults is behind bars. One in 33</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> is under correctional control (on bail, on parole, in prison or jail).</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><a href="http://www.pewstates.org/research/data-visualizations/the-high-cost-of-corrections-in-america-infographic-85899397897" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">One in four of the world’s inmates</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> is doing time in an American prison.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><a href="http://www.parade.com/news/2009/03/why-we-must-fix-our-prisons.html?index=2" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">16% (350,000) of incarcerated adults are mentally ill.</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> The percentage in juvenile custody is even higher.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><a href="http://prisonmovement.wordpress.com/2009/04/13/reforming-america%E2%80%99s-prison-system-the-time-has-come/%20types%20of%20offenses" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">3/4 of drug offenders</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> in state prisons are non-violent offenders or in prison solely for drug offenses.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br />85 percent of all juveniles who appear in juvenile court are </span><a href="http://begintoread.com/research/literacystatistics.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">functionally illiterate</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">. More than 6 in 10 of all prison inmates would have difficulty writing a letter, or filling out a job application.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Young black men without a high school diploma are now </span><a href="http://economix.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/29/jail-and-jobs/" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;">more likely to be incarcerated than employed. </a></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">Not a lot has changed since then. In fact, in some ways things are worse. <a href="https://www.penncapital-star.com/covid-19/mental-health-the-other-public-health-crisis-in-pa-s-prisons-and-jails-opinion/" target="_blank">COVID-19 has hit prisons hard,</a> with death tolls in prisons higher than the general public. At the same time, attempts to control the pandemic have resulted in increased lockdowns, increased solitary confinement, total suspension of programs that encourage mental health. </span><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2021/02/19/joe-ligon-release/" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="864" data-original-width="782" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBBxDuicBQg-IA9Wvm5vzD36dOb8xFk9N5dv99lMKZuNl0CUM5Q3mvKfXTCc2iX9_6B0wXNPFNxeWW2hj3mjfI_OrT6Xr_oKXs4MYeS-XC27LfyKzbafMu4C-y6HQi5ie0dNHAvgJkDaQ/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-04-18+at+10.00.35+AM.png" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2021/02/19/joe-ligon-release/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;">read more: Joe Ligon release</span></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">One of our presenters has repeatedly shared some photos of men he's worked with. One is of Joe Lignon, a Phialdelphia resident who was recently released after 68 years in PA prisons. He was given life without parole at the age of 15 for involvement in two murders he says he had nothing to do with. He had been imprisoned longer than anyone else on record. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've been thinking the past few weeks about <a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/04/risen.html" target="_blank">resurrection</a>, <a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/04/i-believe.html" target="_blank">what I believe,</a> where belief intersects with action.<br /><br />I believe in resurrection, and as part of that, I believe in redemption, reconciliation, restoration, first and second and third chances. <br /><br />I believe in setting captives free.<br /><br />Anglican bishop and scholar N. T. Wright wrote: </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><br /></i></p><blockquote><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">“Jesus's resurrection is the beginning of God's new project not to snatch people away from earth to heaven but to colonize earth with the life of heaven. That, after all, is what the Lord's Prayer is about. . . . Our task in the present . . . is to live as resurrection people in between Easter and the final day.” ( Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church , 2008)</span></i></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I find myself reviewing my own contribution to that: what does it mean to live as a resurrection person in this deeply divided world of ours? How do I help proclaim freedom to the prisoners, help set captives free, remind myself and others of men like Joe, waiting, sometimes decades, for a word of restoration?<br /><br />Today, I'll pray, as I do every Sunday:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.</i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">And I'll confess, as I do every Sunday:<br /><span face="Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15.52px;"></span></span><p></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent. For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.</i></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Beyond that, I'll continue to pray that God will break my heart with the things that break His own, and will lead me, every day, to be faithful in the work He gives me, wherever it may lead. </span></p><span><a name='more'></a></span><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Want to learn more about prison gerrymandering and mass incarceration in PA? This video, from one of our regional forums, might be a place to start. </span></p><span><br /></span><iframe allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="true" frameborder="0" height="314" scrolling="no" src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?height=314&href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2FAbolitionistLawCenter%2Fvideos%2F313003743511744%2F&show_text=false&width=560" style="border: none; overflow: hidden;" width="560"></iframe>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-63486783794051404132021-04-11T19:19:00.001-04:002021-04-11T19:19:21.011-04:00I believe<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyAnD0CkaFx6p3moYtJOamWmi7cnze9gWGik0Dfpbjz1gk6VnVyjmpwihcvNuI3PDldaeyJyE6EwE3GDC8hagJc2mCyWdpkTRn3ST0upBe1oFAflPTGSvAnlVLKM0cP0uvW8KOl8mHhI/s300/HCW_vaccine_page_transp-300x236-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoyAnD0CkaFx6p3moYtJOamWmi7cnze9gWGik0Dfpbjz1gk6VnVyjmpwihcvNuI3PDldaeyJyE6EwE3GDC8hagJc2mCyWdpkTRn3ST0upBe1oFAflPTGSvAnlVLKM0cP0uvW8KOl8mHhI/s0/HCW_vaccine_page_transp-300x236-1.png" /></a></div><p></p><span style="font-family: arial;">I believe in science, medicine, doctors, vaccinations.<br /><br />I had my first Moderna vaccination on Marcy 30, Doctor Appreciation Day. I found myself giving thanks for Dr. Fauci and all the doctors, nurses, medical professionals and hospital staff who have worked so tirelessly and courageously during this past year of pandemic. I also gave thanks and continue to give thanks for all the scientists, lab workers, researchers of every kind gathering data and racing to find treatments and vaccines while we travel together through this global experiment.<br /><br />We've watched the scientific process play out in real time: Does the virus survive on food? Hard surfaces? Still air? <br /><br />Are children carriers? Can we contract it from people with no symptoms? Do masks work? For the wearer? For those around them?<br /><br />There are things we know now we didn't know a year ago. There are things we still don't know, maybe never WILL know. The research matters. The humility matters too. <br /></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">My high school physics teacher, Mr. Appell, liked to lead us deep into the inner workings of theories that shaped science for decades, even centuries, then would start class off one day with a giant NG, for "NO GOOD," scrawled across the board. Copernicus. Galileo. Kepler. Months spent on each, then the giant NG as solar theories bit the dust. NG NG NG. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilM10WEW66icB0V3JpR3Mfb1j8vM-dZrCZwNoHeaFEF-KTP8TCcH_liHkHen19yGJx5nFha_B2KHnXdMxwAfFBUnMg0zyhkeFiN837AWs1NPKFygIsTrBU37698itrez1EBKfLdQQIlNo/s791/Appearance+to+Thomas.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilM10WEW66icB0V3JpR3Mfb1j8vM-dZrCZwNoHeaFEF-KTP8TCcH_liHkHen19yGJx5nFha_B2KHnXdMxwAfFBUnMg0zyhkeFiN837AWs1NPKFygIsTrBU37698itrez1EBKfLdQQIlNo/w243-h320/Appearance+to+Thomas.jpeg" width="243" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><strong style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica; font-size: 13.3333px; text-align: left;">Unknown East European Artist</strong><br style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica; font-size: 13.3333px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: #e1e6e5; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Helvetica; font-size: 13.3333px; text-align: left;">Wood engraving</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">That's the way it is with science. Theories are tested. Data is studied. Some things add up. Some things don't. We balance what we know against what we don't and do our best on the wide continuum between sheer ignorance and total understanding. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><br />Our sermon this morning was about Thomas. He wanted empirical proof of the resurrection, and was given it, and believed, completely. History suggests he traveled through what is now India, founding churches, until he was martyred in 72 BC. </span><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: justify;"><span>Jesus told him, </span></span><span face="Roboto, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #001320; text-align: justify;">"Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." That's us, the centuries of believers, affirming faith in a resurrection we can never prove. <br /><br />This morning, after the sermon, we also had a baptism. This question is part of the liturgy:<br /></span></span><table style="color: black;"><tbody><tr><td><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><blockquote>Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?</blockquote></i>The answer:<br /><i><blockquote> I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,<br /> He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit<br /> and born of the Virgin Mary.<br /> He suffered under Pontius Pilate,<br /> was crucified, died, and was buried.<br /> He descended to the dead.<br /> On the third day he rose again.<br /> He ascended into heaven,<br /> and is seated at the right hand of the Father.<br /> He will come again to judge the living and the dead</blockquote></i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">And then this:</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><table style="color: black; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;"><tbody><tr><td class="qanda" style="vertical-align: text-top;"></td><td><i><span style="font-family: arial;">I believe in the Holy Spirit,<br /> the holy catholic Church,<br /> the communion of saints,<br /> the forgiveness of sins,<br /> the resurrection of the body,<br /> and the life everlasting.</span></i></td></tr></tbody></table></blockquote></div></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Do I believe in resurrection? I do, just as much as I believe in science. Maybe more. <br /><br />That doesn't suggest I know what resurrection means, or that I could describe Jesus' resurrection body, or that I have a fully-formed vision of life everlasting. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I've never really understood the idea that science and belief, science and resurrection, science and miracle somehow contradict each other. We are bundles of cells, nerves, emotions, ideas: some mostly physical, some mostly not. <br /><br />Yet who can show the exact boundaries between physical, emotional, spiritual? <br /><br />Who can prove causations are entirely one realm or the other?<br /><br />I heard Frances Collins speak at a youth conference over a decade ago. He led the Human Genome Project and has been director of the National Institute of Health since 2009, nominated by Barack Obama, unanimously approved by the US Senate, serving under Donald Trump and recently selected by Joe Biden to continue in the same role. <br /><br />He was an atheist in his youth, devoted to science, with a PhD in physical chemistry and an MD by the time he was 27. But along the way he began to see realities that didn't line up with his scientific training. There was nothing in science to explain morality, hope, or beauty. </span></div><blockquote><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I had to admit that the science I loved so much was powerless to answer questions such as "What is the meaning of life?" "Why am I here?" "Why does mathematics work, anyway?" "If the universe had a beginning, who created it?" "Why are the physical constants in the universe so finely tuned to allow the possibility of complex life forms?" "Why do humans have a moral sense?" "What happens after we die?</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I had always assumed that faith was based on purely emotional and irrational arguments, and was astounded to discover, initially in the writings of the Oxford scholar C.S. Lewis and subsequently from many other sources, that one could build a very strong case for the plausibility of the existence of God on purely rational grounds. My earlier atheist's assertion that "I know there is no God" emerged as the least defensible. As the British writer G.K. Chesterton famously remarked, "Atheism is the most daring of all dogmas, for it is the assertion of a universal negative."<br /><p>But reason alone cannot prove the existence of God. Faith is reason plus revelation, and the revelation part requires one to think with the spirit as well as with the mind. You have to hear the music, not just read the notes on the page. Ultimately, a leap of faith is required.</p><p>For me, that leap came in my 27th year, after a search to learn more about God's character led me to the person of Jesus Christ. Here was a person with remarkably strong historical evidence of his life, who made astounding statements about loving your neighbor, and whose claims about being God's son seemed to demand a decision about whether he was deluded or the real thing. After resisting for nearly two years, I found it impossible to go on living in such a state of uncertainty, and I became a follower of Jesus.</p></i></span></div></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Collins helped found BioLogos, an organization which explores the intersection of faith and science. The <a href="https://biologos.org/" target="_blank">Biologos </a>website might alarm those who hold to a literal interpretation of every part of scripture. It might intrigue those open to consider alternative perspectives. I enjoy reading the <a href="https://biologos.org/resources/?hierarchicalMenu[resourceType.lvl0]=Personal%20Stories" target="_blank">personal stories of scientists</a> whose work in the field led them deeper and deeper into orthodox faith and used the site in my last years of youth ministry exploring questions our older students were asking. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Tonight, April 11, Collins will be discussing <a href="https://www.addevent.com/event/Ny6188832" target="_blank">How Christians can help end the pandemic</a>. My guess is step one will be "believe the science." <br /><br />Also of interest, a podcast from last Easter: <a href="https://biologos.org/podcast-episodes/resurrection-in-the-time-of-coronavirus" target="_blank">Resurrection in the time of Coronavirus. </a>Step one: believe in resurrection. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There is far more room o</span><span style="font-family: arial;">n that wide continuum between sheer ignorance and total understanding </span><span style="font-family: arial;">than we sometimes acknowledge. </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Room for data, for scientific theory, for mystery, for faith. And for the humility to say "Lord, I believe, Help my unbelief."<br /><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbho6FYO-RbO0trYvq7pzfRJ7UKOMd-nyDA129PaSbPeq84b7y0PDTNYtFs8BY0PUZCdoz6iirupUOOM_rUTso2g42U6KKpyH50KEegMi_i69XmdrtatLnIBqjmxPKVZwG_GWLJwvgM0/s944/Screen+Shot+2021-04-11+at+7.18.00+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="944" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbho6FYO-RbO0trYvq7pzfRJ7UKOMd-nyDA129PaSbPeq84b7y0PDTNYtFs8BY0PUZCdoz6iirupUOOM_rUTso2g42U6KKpyH50KEegMi_i69XmdrtatLnIBqjmxPKVZwG_GWLJwvgM0/w400-h236/Screen+Shot+2021-04-11+at+7.18.00+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-3909810854114610852021-04-04T20:01:00.001-04:002021-04-04T20:01:34.370-04:00Risen<p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTxQQR8r4XcDRmxIznhPOGeqJR0mIwp7iO9M-WxZAaHhOxpDHY70BOUUBfbZeFdrHllQOUWuhjwyxGxmOhcKM8D1iMqIkWsHHOpB_UR9noFIJnrMcxs0VHNeghPTodKAneqGCwi07N3s/s1739/Crucifixion+James+Reid+1930+Philadelphia.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1739" data-original-width="1139" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTxQQR8r4XcDRmxIznhPOGeqJR0mIwp7iO9M-WxZAaHhOxpDHY70BOUUBfbZeFdrHllQOUWuhjwyxGxmOhcKM8D1iMqIkWsHHOpB_UR9noFIJnrMcxs0VHNeghPTodKAneqGCwi07N3s/s320/Crucifixion+James+Reid+1930+Philadelphia.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">James Reid, Life of Christ <br />woodcut, Philadelphia, 1930</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Three close family members have had dangerous car accidents in the past nine months.<br /><br />The first was on the PA turnpike one night last summer caused by debris from a shredded tire. My brother-in-law found his car thrown toward the median. The car was totaled, but he was okay, just badly shaken, replaying the incident in his mind for days after. It could have ended very differently.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Last month is was my son, waiting on a busy road to make a left turn, rear-ended by someone not paying attention. Since his wheels were turned, he was pushed hard into the oncoming traffic lane. Fortunately, no one hit him head-on. His car, too, was totaled. A few seconds sooner, a few seconds later, the outcome could have been tragic.<br /><br />Wednesday it was my husband, Whitney. Heading off for an oil change, he was hit by an SUV running a red light. The front end of his car was smashed, with debris thrown across the road. His wrist was abraded by an air bag, but other than that, he's fine, just shaken like the others. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Life is fragile. Our days are uncertain. One second can change our lives. One nano-second can end them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've been reflecting on all that this week as I read the gospel accounts of crucifixion and resurrection. Many of Jesus' last conversations included predictions of his death and references to resurrection. No one believed him.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We sometimes think the people of his day were innocents, simple folks eager to believe a myth of a resurrected hero.<br /><br />That's not what I see as I read the accounts. Death was much more present for the people of his time. Disease, hunger, violence: all leaned in close. There were a few surprising stories of resurrection: Lazarus, the rich ruler's daughter. But for every day folks, that seemed like nonsense. You lived. You died. Life was harsh and short. Maybe somewhere in the distant future there was an afterlife for the most pious and holy, but for most folks? Forget it. <br /><br />The Sadducees, students of religious law, concocted stories and questions to prove resurrection was ridiculous. <br /><br />I like the way <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+12%3A18-23&version=MSG" target="_blank">The Message words the account</a> from Mark 12:</span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Some Sadducees, the party that denies any possibility of resurrection, came up and asked, “Teacher, Moses wrote that if a man dies and leaves a wife but no child, his brother is obligated to marry the widow and have children. Well, there once were seven brothers. The first took a wife. He died childless. The second married her. He died, and still no child. The same with the third. All seven took their turn, but no child. Finally the wife died. When they are raised at the resurrection, whose wife is she? All seven were her husband.”
<br /><br />Jesus said, “You’re way off base, and here’s why: One, you don’t know what God said; two, you don’t know how God works. After the dead are raised up, we’re past the marriage business. As it is with angels now, all our ecstasies and intimacies then will be with God. And regarding the dead, whether or not they are raised, don’t you ever read the Bible? How God at the bush said to Moses, ‘I am—not was—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? The living God is God of the living, not the dead. You’re way, way off base.”</span></i></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The phrasing of the response interests me: You don't know what God said; you don't know how God works. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP0CU2zSYRR3JOd6R7CAquKa_xw6gYVMmgQ5Lb7IAj7D-Pkjq5IFoEA6f8C_IOFo9tA5mAoN0LjYuUU_qmmDxzHyD5rvFNGKjySJJLeakLPdjxfoGoNGND5jvKder3O8WXgop98a7otU/s1391/Christ%2527s+body+James+Reid.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1391" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIP0CU2zSYRR3JOd6R7CAquKa_xw6gYVMmgQ5Lb7IAj7D-Pkjq5IFoEA6f8C_IOFo9tA5mAoN0LjYuUU_qmmDxzHyD5rvFNGKjySJJLeakLPdjxfoGoNGND5jvKder3O8WXgop98a7otU/s320/Christ%2527s+body+James+Reid.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">James Reid, Life of Christ,<br />woodcut, Philadelphia, 1930</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, millennia later, we can read the words, but we still don't quite know what they said, and we definitely don't know how God works.<br /></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Jesus's friends, heading toward his tomb on that morning long ago, had spent time with him, watched him, listened to him. But none of them had the slightest hope that death had been defeated. They had loved and followed Jesus. They had watched with grief and fear as the crucifixion unfolded. Now they were hoping to see his broken body, hoping to wrap and bathe it and honor him in his death. Resurrection, from their own accounts, was the last thing on their minds.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Is resurrection on OUR minds, this Easter morning? I had my first COVID vaccination Thursday afternoon, and have spent the past two days slightly achy, slightly feverish, tired.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm thinking about the more than 500,000 here in the US who have died of COVID in the past year, the nearly 3 million around the globe. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Does God care? Is resurrection part of that story?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">In the days following that first resurrection morning, some believed quickly. Some needed convincing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Luke, the careful historian, describes the first report of resurrection:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span class="text Luke-24-10" id="en-NIVUK-26002" style="background-color: white;">It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the others with them who told this to the apostles. </span><span class="text Luke-24-11" id="en-NIVUK-26003" style="background-color: white;">But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.</span><span class="text Luke-24-12" id="en-NIVUK-26004" style="background-color: white;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;"> </span>Peter, however, got up and ran to the tomb. Bending over, he saw the strips of linen lying by themselves, and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.</span></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA2ZMtndP21x8B6u1vL1341Q_SUmjLJvhd6oK_aebX3udr7W0V5JDiRf9kdUD-Rnjb320B6hh6DcyTcznIgGMqgqIpa0lka2rm_Eknu0zUcY7OLkZeTnWqkJDnL_mk5lnOUzl8owReXU/s861/James+Reid+from+the+Life+of+Christ+in+Woodcuts+1930.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="861" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrA2ZMtndP21x8B6u1vL1341Q_SUmjLJvhd6oK_aebX3udr7W0V5JDiRf9kdUD-Rnjb320B6hh6DcyTcznIgGMqgqIpa0lka2rm_Eknu0zUcY7OLkZeTnWqkJDnL_mk5lnOUzl8owReXU/s320/James+Reid+from+the+Life+of+Christ+in+Woodcuts+1930.jpeg" /></a></div>Were there some who heard the women's story and believed it immediately? When did </span><span style="font-family: arial;">"nonsense," for Peter, finally make sense? Were there some who saw the resurrected Jesus and explained it all away? Were there some who saw, and heard, and deliberately decided that belief would be too costly?<br /><br />Saul<span style="background-color: white;"> fought those who spoke of resurrection until he was struck with a blinding light on the road to Damascus. Renamed Paul, he spent the rest of his life teaching others of the truth of the resurrection, risking his life for that central reality, facing imprisonment for the hope of resurrection. <br /><br />In his first letter to Corinthian converts he reminded them: </span></span><p></p><p></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text 1Cor-15-12" style="background-color: white;">But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-13" id="en-NIVUK-28732" style="background-color: white;"><span class="versenum" style="display: inline; font-weight: 700; line-height: normal; position: relative; top: auto; vertical-align: text-top;"> </span>If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-14" id="en-NIVUK-28733" style="background-color: white;">And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-15" id="en-NIVUK-28734" style="background-color: white;">More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-16" id="en-NIVUK-28735" style="background-color: white;">For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-17" id="en-NIVUK-28736" style="background-color: white;">And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-18" id="en-NIVUK-28737" style="background-color: white;">Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. </span><span class="text 1Cor-15-19" id="en-NIVUK-28738" style="background-color: white;">If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.</span></span></i></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There are mysteries on mysteries in considering resurrection. Are suffering and death anomalies, or essential parts of a much larger story? Is this life precious beyond all else, or a moment, a sigh, before the real song begins? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Is it reasonable to believe in resurrection? Unreasonable to doubt it? </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Are all somehow equally true?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">From a poem by John Terpstra (<a href="https://www.christiancourier.ca/topographies-of-easter/" target="_blank">find the full poem here</a>) <br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;"></span></span></p><blockquote><p><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">Because I did not for a moment doubt in childhood</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">the story of this rising, shall I, now</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">I am wiser? The world still has no</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">boundary. The lines still shiver and wave;</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">the impossible takes place . . . </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">I’ll say this: whom she supposed to be</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">the gardener sings and dances the contour lines</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">that are his body; this body that is broken</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">by time and season and violence too deep</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">for us to wonder at the source, broken</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">into beauty that lures our present rambling</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">and leads us to the edge of this escarpment . . .</span></span></i></p></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></span><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">and where we meet her</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">who has run and sung and danced these trails</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">since the day she first saw</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">the massive rock dislodged</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;">from the cliff-face</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1a202c;" /></span></i><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a202c;"><i> of any reasonable expectation.</i></span> </span></p></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">There is much I don't know: what the word "resurrection" means. What eternity will be. Where the boundaries of grace and love are found, if there are </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Today, Resurrection Sunday, is the day to set all wondering aside and simply rejoice that life has conquered death. <br /><br />Hallejuah. Christ is risen. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> He is risen indeed. Hallelujah. </span></p><p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5GBXh6BgIDe1KuYkeSFI7OgbthfLz_9ECwK-JJaV37Mzjs-Y5kmoB5_DbMlEomVfME4gfAKP49QpnEU-VLwljO8YxAqhzfpXhAQgOxeP_mSmMTMLNxtStyYpwnogM7eRqkx5Hb8Fhw8/s303/David+Jones+the+Resurrection.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="303" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5GBXh6BgIDe1KuYkeSFI7OgbthfLz_9ECwK-JJaV37Mzjs-Y5kmoB5_DbMlEomVfME4gfAKP49QpnEU-VLwljO8YxAqhzfpXhAQgOxeP_mSmMTMLNxtStyYpwnogM7eRqkx5Hb8Fhw8/w400-h219/David+Jones+the+Resurrection.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />David Jones, The Resurrection, woodcut, London, 1924</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p></p><p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-29801358257780259682021-03-28T13:36:00.002-04:002021-03-28T13:36:22.137-04:00Lent Six: Follow<span style="font-family: arial;">The first words I learned in another language were these: <br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white;">He decidido seguir a Cristo,</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">He decidido seguir a Cristo</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">He decidido seguir a Cristo,</span><br style="background-color: white; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" /><span style="background-color: white;">No vuelvo atrás, no vuelvo atrás.</span></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I learned the words from missionaries on sabbatical from Peru who visited the little Bible camp in the Catskills where I spent my childhood summers. They taught us about life in Peru, shared stories of their time in the Andean mountains, and taught us to sing that song in Spanish.<br /><br />I already knew the words in English:<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>I have decided to follow Jesus.<br />No turning back, no turning back. </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p></p><div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw-WNj8uZAjKsQ-dAqIoWNwIWfJ9QK8zBeRoy_IqrHf5iUzWd-sLQ3dD4SdETgidsffdc0B2Wb81W7wM3-a1dfNNqm0wJzygtdBV_LmCVk2DZHf6RIqDOGXn09ep7vqwqDb81coP44Ts/s516/Screen+Shot+2021-03-28+at+1.32.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="516" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOw-WNj8uZAjKsQ-dAqIoWNwIWfJ9QK8zBeRoy_IqrHf5iUzWd-sLQ3dD4SdETgidsffdc0B2Wb81W7wM3-a1dfNNqm0wJzygtdBV_LmCVk2DZHf6RIqDOGXn09ep7vqwqDb81coP44Ts/w320-h266/Screen+Shot+2021-03-28+at+1.32.32+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I was probably nine or ten at the time. My family attended a small Christian and Missionary Alliance Church, not far from the denominational headquarters in Nyack, New York, so I already knew quite a few missionaries. One of my grandmother's closest friends was a single woman who spent most of her life planting churches in Ethiopia. From my tiniest years I had heard the stories of <a href="https://maf.org/about/history/nate-saint/" target="_blank">Nate Saint</a>,<a href="https://elisabethelliot.org/about/jim-elliot/" target="_blank"> Jim Elliot </a>and the three other young men who died in Ecuador in 1956, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Auca" target="_blank">killed by indigenous warriors. </a><br /><br />I was reminded of all that a few weeks ago when my husband, <a href="https://www.essentialbible.org/" target="_blank">Whitney,</a> gave the sermon at our church, on the text of Mark 8:31-38. He mentioned Jim Elliot and a comment scrawled in Elliot's journal, a line I heard often as a kid, again at the Christian college I attended: "He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose."</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2nwg7Rjc6vjQDh0xn6QpM2NZYjixIY2gxMumMzspi6SZIHdhie7GHrmXaJOmbhWcsXsYbAD-iwJWd7OaM7FncbptD3wT81BGN-oq_E7lj1kFcMqg1sHDMrVWZk8oGrhf6wxImh8crLk/s480/Jim_Elliot_no_fool_quote_bgc_archives.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="149" data-original-width="480" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK2nwg7Rjc6vjQDh0xn6QpM2NZYjixIY2gxMumMzspi6SZIHdhie7GHrmXaJOmbhWcsXsYbAD-iwJWd7OaM7FncbptD3wT81BGN-oq_E7lj1kFcMqg1sHDMrVWZk8oGrhf6wxImh8crLk/w400-h124/Jim_Elliot_no_fool_quote_bgc_archives.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />In his sermon, Whitney reflected on the ways he has tried to follow Jesus. That's been a core foundation of our marriage: attempting to find out what it means to follow, commitment to follow even when it costs us. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Those verses from Mark suggest cost is part of the calling: </span></p><p><span class="text Mark-8-34" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="text Mark-8-34" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj">Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.</span></span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Mark-8-35" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" id="en-NIV-24536" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj">For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it.</span></span><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white;"> </span><span class="text Mark-8-36" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" id="en-NIV-24537" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj">What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?</span></span></span></i></blockquote><span class="text Mark-8-36" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" id="en-NIV-24537" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: arial;">Looking back on the decades since I first sang those words, I find I have always gained far more than I lost in any attempt to follow Jesus. In the moment, the sacrifices seem real. In retrospect, they're incredibly small compared to the growth and gain in wisdom and joy along the way. <br /><br />This week, Holy Week, the week between Palm Sunday and the celebration of resurrection, is always an odd one for me. We wait in that space between hosannah, grief, and unexpected new life. <br /><br />We walk with the disciples between obedience and worship, doubt and betrayal, fear, disbelief, then greater faith and understanding.</span></span><p></p><p><span class="text Mark-8-36" face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white;"><span class="woj" style="font-family: arial;">We wave our palms, throw them down, wrestle over who will be most faithful.<br /><br />We assume we're the ones who will get it right, who will always follow, not matter what. Then, if we're listening well, we come face to face with how far we got it wrong. </span></span></p><p><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">In this week, we hold our hearts open to the space between: between death and resurrection, between kingdom of this earth and kingdom to come, between being known and fully knowing, between judgement and everlasting love.</span></p><p><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">In all of that, Jesus invites us to follow. </span></p><p><span face="system-ui, -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Ubuntu, Cantarell, "Noto Sans", sans-serif, Arial" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;">I decided to do that long ago but I'm still learning what it means. <br /><br />I'm sharing Whitney's sermon here. And sharing a few more words of that childhood song, words I never learned in Spanish, but have done my best to live in English, always aware that, like those early disciples, I often get it wrong:</span></p><p data-adtags-visited="true" style="background-color: white; color: #555555; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><i>The world behind me, the cross before me;<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />The world behind me, the cross before me;<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />The world behind me, the cross before me;<br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />No turning back, no turning back.</i></span> </span></blockquote><p></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KG2VHf_mJko?start=7" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>This is the sixth of a Lenten series:</b><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/02/lent-one-i-said-to-my-soul-be-stll.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0065ff; font-family: arial; text-indent: -15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Lent One: I said to my soul, be still</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/02/lent-two-all-things-new.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0065ff; font-family: arial; text-indent: -15px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Lent Two: All things new</span></a></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/03/lent-three-walking-in-between.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0065ff; text-indent: -15px;">Lent Three: Walking in between</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/03/lent-four-resting-in-mercy.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0065ff; text-indent: -15px;">Lent Four: Resting in Mercy</a></span></li><li><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/03/lent-five-stillness-and-sunshine.html" style="background-color: white; color: #0065ff; text-indent: -15px;">Lent Five: Stillness and Sunshine</a></span></li></ul></span><span style="font-family: arial;"><h3 style="text-align: left;"><b style="color: #222222; text-indent: -15px;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other Lenten series:</span></b></h3></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>2015: </b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"></div><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/ash-wednesday-confession-booth.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><ul style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/ash-wednesday-confession-booth.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"></a></span><li><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/ash-wednesday-confession-booth.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/ash-wednesday-confession-booth.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Ash Wednesday: Confession Booth</span></a></span></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/02/lent-one-embracing-hunger.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial;">Lent One: Embracing Hunger</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/03/lent-two-eluding-privilege.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial;">Lent Two: Eluding Privilege</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/03/lent-three-exploring-power.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial;">Lent Three: Exploring Power</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/03/expecting-suffering.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial;">Lent Four: Expecting Suffering</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/03/lent-five-escaping-blindness.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial;">Lent Five: Escaping Blindness</span></a></li><li><span style="background-color: white; color: #3d85c6; font-family: arial; text-decoration-line: none;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2015/03/lent-six-encountering-contradiction.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;">Lent Six: Encountering Contradiction</a></span></li></ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>2014</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"></div><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/03/leaning-into-lent.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><ul style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/03/leaning-into-lent.html" style="background-color: white; color: #1177cc; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><li><span style="color: #1177cc;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/03/leaning-into-lent.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"></a><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2014/03/leaning-into-lent.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Leaning into Lent</span></a></span></li><li><span style="color: #1177cc;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/02/lenten-sorrow-lament-and-nacham.html" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-decoration-line: none;">Lenten Sorrow : Lament and Nacham</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;"> </span></span></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/03/lenten-silence-charash-be-still.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1177cc; font-family: arial;">Lenten Silence: Charash, Be Still</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/03/lenten-sweetness-tasting-towb.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1177cc; font-family: arial;">Lenten Sweetness: Tasting Towb</span></a></li><li><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/03/lenten-submission-rethinking-hupotasso.html" style="background-color: white; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="color: #1177cc; font-family: arial;">Lenten Submission: Rethinking Hupotassō</span></a></li><li><span style="color: #1177cc;"><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2012/03/lenten-song-remembering-ranan.html" style="background-color: white; font-family: arial; text-decoration-line: none;">Lenten Song: Remembering Ranan</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial;"> </span></span></li></ul><span style="font-family: arial;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222;"><br /></div><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-89174515196557121892021-03-21T10:39:00.005-04:002021-03-21T10:41:45.944-04:00Lent Five: Stillness and Sunshine<p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXNIsOORgwDI9GzyTcx_GyVAdKc5ssAu3KKF2uAk0d5ZcNcyrCLlQI4AfjvKYNlMfjMrL40ajVH-tqy0tpaxOaBvO9s5OP2lmBi9wCjgR4f9GTU4zmarnMCopavhaGLgIXSO_VDsScU0/s998/Christ+in+the+Wilderness+Moretto+de+Brescia.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="672" data-original-width="998" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBXNIsOORgwDI9GzyTcx_GyVAdKc5ssAu3KKF2uAk0d5ZcNcyrCLlQI4AfjvKYNlMfjMrL40ajVH-tqy0tpaxOaBvO9s5OP2lmBi9wCjgR4f9GTU4zmarnMCopavhaGLgIXSO_VDsScU0/s320/Christ+in+the+Wilderness+Moretto+de+Brescia.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christ in the Wilderness, Moretto de Brescia, <br />Italy, ca 1515</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: arial;">It's been a very windy March. Sticks and branches fly in my woodsy back garden; wind wails around the<br /> eaves in the middle of the night. I"m not a fan of wind. I've seen trees uproot or snap; I've been blown off-course on open water. The wind reminds me of storms and wild seas and of how small and often helpless we feel in the challenges that confront us.<br /><br />Yesterday was the first day of spring. The wind stopped, the weather warmed, and the birds in my yard spent the day calling back and forth about bird houses and tree cavities, planning their homes for the next few months. <br /><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;">I spent time picking up sticks, pruned an apricot tree, then found myself on my hammock, listening to the nearby murmuring of birds, staring up at the bright blue sky.</span><div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A sermon early in Lent set me thinking about this brief passage in Mark 1:12-14:<br /><i></i></span></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Immediately the Spirit drove him into the desert. He was there for forty days, tempted by Satan, among the wild animals, and the angels attended him. </span></i></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">That word,<i> Spirit</i>, in the Greek is <i>pneuma:</i> wind. And that word <i>drove</i> can also be translated impelled, compelled, ejected, expelled, thrust, plucked. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">So the wind this March has reminded me of the ways the Holy Spirit compels us, the ways the Spirit has compelled <i>me. </i>Sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully, often into places of challenge, adventure, unexpected growth. Looking back I can see the wind of the Spirit moving in my life. At the time, it often felt scary. From the other side, I'm thankful to have been compelled beyond my own small, safe assumptions.<br /><br />But yesterday, soaking in the bright, strong sunshine, it occurred to me I've been viewing Lent, and Christ's time in the wilderness, from exactly the wrong angle. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caracal_(genus)" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2x8qzHtZOFWnq-lN_yp88X5uB2irRZ5p79fzV_QWCfGnzBSLSMr3_SWRibo_cTEb6aZvQwx333rBR2N6MXS5TQypPbeu7TDDHjezkX0pa7_HJL5BWyYcbb_KLhFbd4OX9uNBJQ0r0qe4/s320/Caracal.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Maybe that wilderness wasn't a desert so much as a place of quiet, solitude and rest. Maybe the Spirit doesn't always compel us into adventure, but sometimes into quiet restoration, restful preparation.</span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And maybe those wild beasts Mark mentions weren't threatening or scary, to Jesus, but companionable. I often find rest and grace spending time alone with backyard chipmunks and squirrels and robins and bluebirds. It's not hard to imagine Jesus even more at home with leopards and caracals and the red-necked ostrich<a href="https://www.goeco.org/article/desert-animals-of-israel" target="_blank"> that once freely roamed the Negev.</a></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Maybe the forty days weren't all deprivation and testing, but instead, primarily, a season of soaking in stillness and sunshine, enjoying the company of creatures and angels, an experience known to hermits and mystics willing to spend time alone in silence. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I've thought sometimes in this past year of the inner hermit in some of us. I spent much of my life as a serious introvert: reluctant to speak, happier alone or with one or two than with groups. That inner hermit has surfaced strongly during the past year of enforced solitude. I've wrestled with that, wondered over that. I'm aware that everything upended a year ago will soon be upended again, as we're pulled back into social contact, back into face-to-face encounters. <br /><br />My husband Whitney and I have been waiting for Covid-19 vaccination appointments as our county officials wrestle with the reality that our region of PA is far behind in receiving vaccine. But yesterday a friend shared a link to a mass vaccination site a few counties over, and Whitney and I now have appointments for April 1, Maundy Thursday, the day before Good Friday. We're celebrating. Waiting. <br /><br />There is so very much we don't know about what comes next. My redistricting reform fight will be resolved in one way or another within the year or so. Whitney's job is changing and may change more in the months ahead. We're balanced on the edge of return to normal, on the edge of retirement, waiting to be compelled by the Spirit toward the next big adventure, or the next big storm. <br /><br /><a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/2021/03/lent-three-walking-in-between.html" target="_blank">A few weeks ago</a> I mentioned<a href="https://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/album/love-war-the-sea-in-between" target="_blank"> a Josh Garrells CD that became the sound track</a> of my past few years. Farther Along was the first song that drew me in. Another, <a href="https://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/track/beyond-the-blue" target="_blank">Beyond the Blue,</a> speaks of wind, of letting go, of learning to see and hear beyond what's visible:</span></p><p></p><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;">Wisdom will honor everyone who will learn<br />To listen, to love, and to pray and discern<br />And to do the right thing even when it burns<br />And to live in the light through treacherous turns<br />A man is weak, but the spirit yearns<br />To keep on course from the bow to the stern<br />And to throw overboard every selfish concern<br />That tries to work for what can't be earned.<br />Sometimes the only way to return<br />Is to go where the winds will take you<br />And let go of all you cannot hold onto<br />For the hope beyond the blue. </span></i></blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></i><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">For now, maybe the call is to wait in stillness and sunshine. To soak up these next few weeks of spring. To let go of what we can't hold onto. To live in the light, knowing there are treacherous turns ahead.<br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><i><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;"></span></i></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">So lift your voice just one more time</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">If there’s any hope may it be a sign</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">That everything was made to shine</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">Despite what you can see</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">So take this bread and drink this wine</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">And hide your spirit within the vine</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">Where all things will work by good design</span><br style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;" /><span style="background-color: #f8f6f2; color: #2d2f2d;">For those who will believe.</span> </i></span></blockquote><p></p> <iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AEinoFv1sZQ" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-54866162283736864762021-03-14T19:12:00.001-04:002021-03-14T19:12:31.477-04:00Lent Four: Resting in Mercy<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOBotMVw3h5rPdCeKloJ0NX60KskgmiF384GjYcF6AkllArlxqpSS0X0oU3nIfIUzOOcFAXUyFLimdmCi82f0641eh1_DsqdWgSXwQkKheaVnKmG7cGgpsK2PJ4wbEqrTPQKQ9yO6cd0/s2048/Rally+Day+balconies.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOBotMVw3h5rPdCeKloJ0NX60KskgmiF384GjYcF6AkllArlxqpSS0X0oU3nIfIUzOOcFAXUyFLimdmCi82f0641eh1_DsqdWgSXwQkKheaVnKmG7cGgpsK2PJ4wbEqrTPQKQ9yO6cd0/s320/Rally+Day+balconies.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">It's a year since the world turned upside down. For me, this week marks the anniversary of the<br /> decision to cancel a large rally planned for March 23, 2020. Fourteen buses were scheduled, 600 people had registered, volunteers had been working for months on signs, tee shirts, registration. Legislative visits were scheduled, materials ordered. Plans were well underway for a rally even larger than one we held in 2018, the largest in our state capital in years. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A call from a volunteer raised concerns about the risks of gathering hundreds in the capital rotunda. "What if someone on the top floor sneezed?" That one question set the wheels in motion. The next day an email went out, explaining the decision to cancel. A day later the capital event office called to say the capital was closed. A year later, it's still closed to any public gathering. Rally signs and tee shirts are still in boxes in volunteers' garages.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Sometimes our plans are taken away in a breath, a moment, a simple sentence. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I wrote. that week a year ago, about mercy. <br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">During Lent, my church, like many others, begins each worship service with the decalogue: a reading of the ten commandments, with the refrain, after each: <i>Lord have mercy.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">It’s a reminder, a prayer, a confession.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Lord have mercy.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />In the Prayers of the People we repeat the same refrain:<br /><o:p></o:p></span></div><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><blockquote class="tr_bq"><span style="font-family: arial;">For the aged and infirm, for the widowed and orphans, and for the sick and the suffering, let us pray to the Lord.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Lord, have mercy. </i></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">For the poor and the oppressed, for the unemployed and the destitute, for prisoners and captives, and for all who remember and care for them, let us pray to the Lord.</span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Lord, have mercy. </i></span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;">For deliverance from all danger, violence, oppression, and degradation, let us pray to the Lord.</span></blockquote></blockquote><blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Lord, have mercy. </i></span></blockquote></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;">We said those words again today, ten times: <i>Lord have mercy. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I've prayed those words more deeply in the past year, at so many times when I don't know what to pray. For my own health, and the health of those I love. For our family, our church, our country, our world.<br /><br /><i>Lord have mercy.</i><br /><br />What strikes me now, reading back on my words from a year ago, is how much my experience of mercy is tied to my willingness to ask and my willingness to give. I find myself surprised at what I wrote. It's a lesson I seem to see and forget, a refrain I hear when I pause long enough to listen. </span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In the New Testament, the word translated “mercy” is the Greek word “eleos,” from the same root as oil, “oil poured out”. Again and again, Jesus was asked for mercy and extended it in healing, in forgiveness and finally, in his greatest act of mercy, in conquering death through his own death and resurrection. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In this fractured time, my heart turns toward that image of God carrying us, like frightened children, in strong arms of mercy.<br /><br />We don’t deserve it, can’t earn it. We fight against it until overcome by grief or fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>Lord have mercy.</i><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_Cu3NaI3ITvu7G_En-mAz8ySnGmk8zZdAeTYJIIG-GiuPFlNHuqUAUupy25GnI3QDXssy3C4RX2l8HiehUTRKvNQwh5lM2CiVm_gr_Xqw0kMEq1ooP7ao8mhqMKWouHBBCjIqeIR1f4/s742/Screen+Shot+2021-03-14+at+6.57.26+PM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="742" data-original-width="586" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL_Cu3NaI3ITvu7G_En-mAz8ySnGmk8zZdAeTYJIIG-GiuPFlNHuqUAUupy25GnI3QDXssy3C4RX2l8HiehUTRKvNQwh5lM2CiVm_gr_Xqw0kMEq1ooP7ao8mhqMKWouHBBCjIqeIR1f4/s320/Screen+Shot+2021-03-14+at+6.57.26+PM.png" /></a></div>The word carries mysteries: how can mercy intervene when our best efforts fail?<br /><br />In the beatitudes, the first lengthy teaching Jesus offered, he said “Blessed are the merciful for they shall receive mercy.”<br /><br />At first sight, this looks like a contradiction: if mercy is something unearned, then why does it seem conditional?<br /><br />That word “eleos”, like oil poured out, suggests a way of understanding this: when we allow ourselves to be channels of mercy, we experience it more fully, see it more clearly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When we refuse to offer mercy to others, we shut ourselves off from mercy itself, like rocks hardened to God and to each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Looking back at this year we've traveled through, I find myself wondering if if I've grown in experience of mercy. Am I more merciful to others? More aware of God's mercy to me? Are those even the right questions? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I quoted last year from Denise Levertov's poem, "To Live in the Mercy of God," including this: <br /></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>.</i><br /></span></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i> . . . not mild, not temperate,</i></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>God’s love for the world. Vast</i></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>flood of mercy</i></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i> flung on resistance.</i></span></span></div></div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"></span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Reading back over the poem today, I find myself resting in the opening image: </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><i><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></i></span></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>To lie back under the tallest</i></div></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>oldest trees. How far the stems</i></div></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>rise, rise</i></div></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><i> before ribs of shelter</i></div></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-align: left; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><i> open!</i></div></span></span></div></div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="border: 0px; color: black; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></div></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-family: arial;">There is so much we don't know, certainly can't explain.<br /><br />What if we're invited to simply lie back, as under a tall, tall tree, knowing its roots go far below us, seeing its branches far above us, held in a space of love and mystery. What if this year, this life, are leaves blown by the wind, while we ourselves are held in a vast flood of mercy that far exceeds all understanding. <br /><br />We will be sorting through the wreckage of this year for a very long time to come. There are sorrows to grieve, stories to be told. It will take mercy to do that work. Mercy to come to terms with all we've lost and failed to learn. Is that work ours to do? I'm not really sure. There is a great deal I'm no longer sure of. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">My prayer, a year ago, was this: <br /></span><br />In this time of loss, anxiety, uncertainty, fear, may we set down our resistance, pray for God’s mercy, live in God’s mercy, act as agents of that mercy we so desperately need. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My prayer, today, is simply this: </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; color: #222222; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><i>Lord have mercy.<br /><br /></i></span></div><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2el5YwegO0M?start=1" width="560"></iframe>
<p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-73950437636043662452021-03-07T10:03:00.002-05:002021-03-07T10:09:11.761-05:00Lent Three: Walking in between<p><span style="font-family: arial;">In 2016 I helped start Fair Districts PA, my husband Whitney and I took an amazing two week trip to Scandinavia, he left his job of 20 years, and much of what I had planned for my own future turned upside down. For us, it was a roller coaster year of highs, lows, and lots and lots of questions. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">A friend had burned me a copy of Josh Garrels' <a href="https://www.joshgarrels.com/love-war-the-sea-in-between" target="_blank">Love and War and the Sea in Between</a> and gave it to me because she thought I'd like it. She was comfortable sharing it because Garrels had repeatedly made the album available for free download. At first there was only one song that resonated; Farther Along, a remake of an old familiar gospel song:<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Farther along we'll know all about it<br />Farther along we'll understand why . . . </i></span></blockquote><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The following year I found myself driving, often, to places I'd never been, listening to that one song, over and over. For the first time in decades we had no clear income, and I wondered if I should be looking for a paying job instead of volunteering all my time on a hopeless cause like redistricting reform. I was facing into my glossophobia, a fancy name for fear of speaking in public, an affliction I first encountered sitting in the back of my junior high auditorium, wanting to audition for the school play but too afraid to walk to the front and stand on the stage and speak. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX0NQrAtEW7QomfPBXBPK7WRTOTXD503YNwDc27o-1ty93JWPRZeNpq969XsNEI-lssU1QkUaswG0IQHhFEP4ym7MGugUeV7QRGNv12OdThDl2ofY0uuTR41xU3bqQ32xU3N5hYy2ne9g/s768/arch+street.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX0NQrAtEW7QomfPBXBPK7WRTOTXD503YNwDc27o-1ty93JWPRZeNpq969XsNEI-lssU1QkUaswG0IQHhFEP4ym7MGugUeV7QRGNv12OdThDl2ofY0uuTR41xU3bqQ32xU3N5hYy2ne9g/s320/arch+street.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">I was struggling to be obedient to a call I couldn't quite decipher.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Looking for a card table to put a projector on in a large historic church while hundreds of people waited for me to speak. <br /><br />Standing at the podium in a large, new high school auditorium staring out as the room filled and an expectant audience waited. <br /><br />Driving across the state to Erie, where I was greeted by a TV reporter, then stood in a crowded auditorium while the library technician struggled to make my powerpoint work. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Asking internally: Why? How did I get here? What am I doing? Why? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">I had never heard of Josh Garrels before my friend gave me that CD, but I wore it out, listening to him wrestle with questions that echoed the questions in my head:<br /></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Tempted and tried I wondered why<br />The good man dies, the bad man thrives<br />And Jesus cries because he love 'em both<br />We're all cast-aways in need of rope<br />Hangin' on by the last threads of our hope<br />In a house of mirrors full of smoke . . .<span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"> </span></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"></span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Somewhere in there Whitney went back to work, first part time, then full-time, working harder, longer hours than ever at American Bible Society. Somewhere along the way my fear of speaking evaporated and I discovered a person apparently hiding inside me all along, cheerfully confident and ready to lead a growing grassroots movement. Somewhere in there that CD no longer worked and one of my daughters burned me a new one to replace the first. I wore that out as well. <br /><br />Meanwhile the questions never vanish: where is God in all of this?<br /><br />The past year has put us all in that space: asking, wondering, waiting. I've been playing that song again, always hearing parts I never quite noticed before:<br /></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>Where did i go wrong? I sang along<br />To every chorus of the song<br />That the devil wrote like a piper at the gates<br />Leading mice and men down to their fates.<br />Some will courageously escape <br />The seductive voice with a heart of faith<br />While walkin' that line back home. . . </i></span></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The pandemic of course raises more questions than our hearts can handle. Why does God allow such suffering? What could/should be done for so many facing illness alone, isolated and fearful, so many dying in hospital beds without family at their side? The recriminations, the second-guessing, the weariness. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><span style="font-family: arial;">But equally wearying: the political maelstrom, fury and folly. Followers of Christ led astray by pied pipers of partisan paranoia. The seductive voices of self-protection, of the way it was, of who "WE" are, with an ever shifting "we."</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"></span></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">I get hard pressed on every side<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">Between the rock and a compromise<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">Like truth and a pack of lies fighting for my soul.</span></i></span></blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">I've been reading the Gospel of Mark this Lent, traveling the road with Jesus and his disciples. I find myself resonating with the constant bewilderment of crowds and disciples: who IS this Jesus? What does he mean? What is this kingdom he speaks of? What is this death he insists is coming?<br /><br />That's the walk we're called to. To live into the questions. To hold them lightly. To admit we don't know, won't know all the answers any time in this life. Pain and suffering are real. Evil is real. Joy and glory and beauty are real. </span><blockquote><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">There's so much more to life than we’ve been told</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It’s full of beauty that will unfold</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And shine like you struck gold my wayward son</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">That deadweight burden weighs a ton</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Go down to the river and let it run</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And wash away all the things you’ve done</span><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Forgiveness, alright . . . </span></i><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br /><br /><i>Skipping like a calf loosed from its stall<br />I'm free to love once and for all<br />And even when I fall I'll get back up<br />For the joy that overflows my cup<br />Heaven filled me with more than enough<br />Broke down my levees and my bluffs<br />Let the flood wash me</i></span></blockquote><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-RO9VOqBDXA2mpgHsdi7ZVab9_v3AHRN_6rxhoNJ6hwSdhPq6VegBG4cKGThIsVzQ6lAStUQnED2zRGG18FLGwpHHhdm8Y7lhGuSgIFeTUaPfttTEaWz3qtcFtqr6inosv0rLd8gaLJQ/s225/love+and+war.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-RO9VOqBDXA2mpgHsdi7ZVab9_v3AHRN_6rxhoNJ6hwSdhPq6VegBG4cKGThIsVzQ6lAStUQnED2zRGG18FLGwpHHhdm8Y7lhGuSgIFeTUaPfttTEaWz3qtcFtqr6inosv0rLd8gaLJQ/s0/love+and+war.jpeg" /></a></div>Garrels challenges me. His work defies punctuation. His style defies category. But in some ways that seems to be the point. He invites us to that space where heaven breaks down our levees and our bluffs, our definitions, our assumptions, our need to control, to explain, to hold God on our terms. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">The daughter who supplied the replacement CD bought me another for Christmas, with another of Garrel's CDs, his own pandemic versions of familiar gospel song: </span></span><em style="background: transparent; border: 0px; color: #168495; cursor: pointer; font-family: prenton, "myriad pro", sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://joshgarrels.bandcamp.com/album/peace-to-all-who-enter-here" style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: #168495; cursor: pointer; font-family: prenton, "myriad pro", sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank">Peace To All Who Enter Here</a>. <br /></em><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"><br />As I listen to both, as I pray and wait and walk out my faith in this hard, too-long in-between time, I am reminded, again and again, that my categories are too small. My heart is too human. My assumptions don't meet the needs of the day.<br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">I may feel like spring will never come, but it's already leaping up under melting snow, in patches of mud, despite the biting northwest wind: beauty, bird song, new life, a new season. <br /><br />And in far deeper ways, God is at work in the dark, the cold, the sorrow.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"> I may see no way to bridge the political divides, but God's spirit is at work, already changing hearts and minds as only God can do. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">T</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">here may be no family members holding the hands of those who die, but God is already there, in every room, speaking words of love and welcome to fearful, lonely hearts. <br /><br />This may be a hard, long, painful chapter in the unfolding story, but it's not the last chapter. We already know: the story ends in joy. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><i>So put your voice up to the test<br />Sing Lord come soon<br />Farther along we'll know all about it<br />Farther along we'll understand why<br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">Cheer up my brother l</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">ive in the sunshine<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">We'll understand it a</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;">ll by and by</span></i></span></blockquote><p><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202124;"></span></span><p></p><p></p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xcGLFX-X4JY" width="560"></iframe>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1984212566531904919.post-43234707221527810262021-02-28T10:21:00.000-05:002021-02-28T10:21:32.063-05:00Lent Two: All things new<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-W6HVr6rQBDHcdW6yRhm-fSbKgPXByHr1EzfaGwdDcwtqjht-32-I1qVH_1AtD_C5U9YeoRGNgx0kr5TEaShp3fYG8kDY5JJZnlRc0XbYrTWLZNRncOHtrH73byamFpHNvFH_CZwDwo/s320/Marchwood+fire+2010.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK-W6HVr6rQBDHcdW6yRhm-fSbKgPXByHr1EzfaGwdDcwtqjht-32-I1qVH_1AtD_C5U9YeoRGNgx0kr5TEaShp3fYG8kDY5JJZnlRc0XbYrTWLZNRncOHtrH73byamFpHNvFH_CZwDwo/s0/Marchwood+fire+2010.png" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">A decade ago, a house near ours burned to the ground. It was then rebuilt on the exact same<br /> footprint. Some windows may be a bit larger. I'm sure bathroom and kitchen are more up-to-date. But in many ways, the new house is the same as the old. <br /><br />I wrote about the house five years ago, asking: <br /></span><blockquote><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="background-color: white;">I</span><span style="background-color: white;">f you were going to build a new house, wouldn’t you want to make it really new? Start with a new, more functional design, rather than settle for new siding?<br /></span></span><p></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I suppose the interior may be totally redesigned, but from what I can see, it’s new, but not really.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial;">That word “new” is a tricky one. There are two words in Greek that are sometimes translated “new”. <i>Neos</i> has the same root as new: “With <i>neos</i> the temporal aspect is dominant, marking out the present moment as compared with a former.” </span><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />That new house on Biddle is n<i>eos</i>: fresh, recent, in the same way that the new growth in my yard is <i>neos</i>: fresh, green, but showing up where the same plants grew last year.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">The other word translated “new’ is <i>kainos</i>: qualitatively different from what came before; unprecedented; unheard of; new not just in time, but in substance.</span></div></div></blockquote><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQTEW2HHcjaRx03qQHE4J3zluSWvHHmS3fM1PH76DASBR2qC7RDAGHCMSX2-lE1CzI_h0D3nlYf3CokPBfd5gOtwQfVZh7FdxxnrYSWkvAhC-djrRRBVsRJBqsZn_SFk0GWOfqXekJhk/s2048/IMG_0553.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQTEW2HHcjaRx03qQHE4J3zluSWvHHmS3fM1PH76DASBR2qC7RDAGHCMSX2-lE1CzI_h0D3nlYf3CokPBfd5gOtwQfVZh7FdxxnrYSWkvAhC-djrRRBVsRJBqsZn_SFk0GWOfqXekJhk/s320/IMG_0553.JPG" /></a></div>The past twelve months have shaken so much of what we know, upending patterns, shredding friendships, leaving so many around the globe anxious, depressed, angry, alone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">We've seen the ugly underbelly of our comfortable systems: escalating inequality, partisan idolatry, angry assertion of our personal right to endanger others rather than face momentary discomfort. We've seen our fragile loyalty to fact and logic and moral consistency falter. Families, churches, communities are divided on everything from the efficacy of masks to the validity of electoral outcomes, the science behind climate change, approval or dismay at a golden statue of a former president. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">As winter snow melts, leaving oozing mud, I find myself praying, longing, hoping for the newness of <i>kainos</i>: qualitatively different from what came before. I don't want to go back to the old forms and formats, comfortable as that might feel. <br /><br />I've been meeting recently, by Zoom, with some organizational leaders to talk about the intersect between gerrymandering, prison gerrymandering, and unjust prison policy. We've been wrestling with ways to bridge the divide between impacted communities and places of privilege. Zoom has opened the ability to meet with new people and host new conversations, and our hope is to host regional meetings where stories not often heard can be told. <br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">Some of those stories break my heart. I <a href="http://wordshalfheard.blogspot.com/search?q=saleem" target="_blank">wrote about Robert Saleem Hollbrook</a> last August: a kid who was sentenced to life as an accessory to a capital crime. He spent 27 years in prison before gaining release. Now executive director of the Abolitionist Law Center, he speaks softly, a calm, thoughtful, strategist with a steely determination to make sure his friends still behind bars are heard. We are planning a series of forums together: stories of maps, of prisons, of aging inmates locked away far too long.<br /><br />Thirty years ago I heard our friend Dan Van Ness, my husband Whitney's colleague at Prison Fellowship, speak at a staff retreat about the need for paradigm reform. He described the failures of "lock them up and throw away the key" policies and the need for a new, more Biblical approach. Since then he's written extensively about restorative justice. He became Executive Director of Prison Fellowship International <a href="http://restorativejustice.org/about-us/#sthash.0k3WXZFq.dpbs" target="_blank">Center for Restorative Justice</a> about the time we moved to Pennsylvania. Thirty years. Has anything changed? <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1LItE0TBAhASThd-j1u9vC1PI80nMzdxLbkdslGblhm86nF0Gu53KNdzsNGUBbKK2fGmO3JGyZpzmQtFt_a17RKjqBARs6t5-IWeaMcG82TV-us2StuPFPNgigZGE52QO-I8x5a8P5U/s1477/Stat-shot-25-percent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1071" data-original-width="1477" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1LItE0TBAhASThd-j1u9vC1PI80nMzdxLbkdslGblhm86nF0Gu53KNdzsNGUBbKK2fGmO3JGyZpzmQtFt_a17RKjqBARs6t5-IWeaMcG82TV-us2StuPFPNgigZGE52QO-I8x5a8P5U/s320/Stat-shot-25-percent.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="https://www.sentencingproject.org/publications/juvenile-life-without-parole/" target="_blank">In 2005 the US Supreme Court ruled</a> that life without parole for juvenile offenders is unconstitutional. Most states either passed legislation to re-sentence juveniles already serving such sentences or held parole hearings to release them. <a href="https://www.scribd.com/document/252184253/Life-Without-Parole-in-Pennsylvania" target="_blank">Not Pennsylvania</a>. Our state now has the highest number of juvenile lifers in the world. The average cumulative cost to the state for each child held for life: over 2 million dollars. Imagine if that money was spent on early education, or on under-funded schools. Or on public services for struggling families caught in cycles of poverty.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0fn1iUohhHyjVKkVsGc63oYTTGd3XD8hfuJ_lqq0-k_baRT-I_bGy8VRnNu4J8WQsBXJb_M6rPgLo1Ume-y0IuXJwBmTo2VuNEgvAmgglhvXmi5OfYtyKdqcsot8vgY9DAtfMhPiD8g/s1477/Stat-shot-25-percent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />What would <i>kainos</i> look like? How can I lend my weight, my voice, my own privilege to open doors of life and hope to geriatric prisoners who have never once seen a beach, or a lake, or a backyard hammock? What would it take to create new, transformed political structures that would enable wise policy rather than partisan folly?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Leaving my conversation with Saleem and others this week, I headed out for my carefully-planned biweekly grocery run. As I turned on my car, I heard<br /><blockquote><i>You make all things new<br />You make all things new<br />in places we don't choose.<br />You make all things new. </i></blockquote></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;">I had left my Porter's Gate CD Work Songs disc in my car. That part of the song caught me off-guard. <br /><br />What would all things new look like? For Saleem's friends still in prison? For the deeply-divided, angry, even dangerous partisan politics of PA? For our churches, our schools, our families, our world?<br /><br />The song continued:<br /><blockquote><i>May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace. </i></blockquote>As the refrain continued, I found myself praying along;<br /></span><blockquote><i><span style="font-family: arial;">May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace.<br />May the words of my mouth speak your peace. </span></i></blockquote><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: 15.4px;">I'm not sure what speaking peace looks like. I'm not sure what newness looks like. Maybe the first step is to recognize how much <i>kainos </i>is needed, and to refuse to settle for <i>neos</i> instead. <br /><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #222222; font-size: 15.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px;"><o:p></o:p><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EHIGm7qYVz4?start=170" width="560"></iframe></div>Carol Kuniholmhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08879986784917679271noreply@blogger.com