Tuesday, June 30, 2020

learning to get the whole story

Until the culture recognizes the legitimacy of growing down, each person in the culture struggles blindly to make sense of the darkness that the soul requires to deepen into life. ~ James Hillman
Our national heroes have rarely gone deep: white America prefers the illusion of a calm surface to the complicated truths of tumult churning below. We have created a culture than sanitizes history, infantilizes art, and dumbs-down politics and religion. The dominant culture of white America is now struggling to maintain our historic shallowness and appears ready to impose a 21st century fascism under the banner of "law and order" rather than change. To be sure, their are models of what true conversion, depth of soul, inward struggle, and humility look like - mostly but not exclusively from communities of color and feminism - but for many of us, those stories remain buried. Indeed, as a colleague recently wrote in an Op-Ed piece in the Hartford Currant: "I graduated from high school in 1975 along with the largest group of the baby boomers. From fourth grade through graduation, I attended multi-racial, city schools in Philadelphia and Bethlehem, Penn. In the 45 years since high school, I find myself continually amazed at what I wasn’t taught."

My lack of education had little to do with poor teachers (most of mine were quite good) or lack of books. Rather, my mis-education sprang from the completely Euro-centric perspective of the curriculum. Here’s a small sample of what I didn’t learn. The first books printed with metal movable type came from Korea, 200 years before Gutenberg in Europe. But I was taught that Gutenberg was the first to print with movable type. The first movable type actually came from China 400 years before Gutenberg. I learned almost no Asian history at all, unless it came attached to a European (Marco Polo or other European explorers). 

Anything about sub-Saharan Africa except that enslaved people came from there. I thought the only great civilizations on that continent were in Egypt. Yet much of Africa had vast empires, seats of learning, art and architecture to rival anything in Europe. Enslaved Africans came to North America before the Pilgrims. Yes, I knew Jamestown predated Plymouth, but, because of the mythologically huge Thanksgiving holiday, it always seemed the Pilgrims’ story meant the real beginning of “America.” I was not taught that enslaved Africans began building this country before the Mayflower even sailed. Speaking of Thanksgiving, I never learned that the native peoples of North and South America had huge cities. All those elementary school dioramas of long houses and tepees made it seem like the native population was small, impoverished and living in the woods. And I won’t even start on my education about native peoples in the west that came from all those Hollywood movies featuring white people in “red-face.”

Four books helped me begin to correct the omissions built into my bourgeois education. They were not perfect, and led to further explorations, but each made it clear that the company line I grew up with was both flawed and intentionally skewed away from the truth, the whole truth, the whole truth so help me God. They were:

+ Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown:  I remember starting to read this in October 1970 while organizing for the Moratorium Conversation and Teach-In re: the Vietnam War. I knew my acculturation through the Lone Ranger, the Cisco Kid and Gunsmoke was incomplete and Wounded Knew began to show me what was missing.

+ The Tragedy of American Diplomacy by William Appleton Williams: I found this exploration of American empire in 1971 while studying at the University of North Carolina. His central thesis was that US control of international markets shaped our politics and foreign policy - including the Cold War - and rang true even 10 years after its initial publication. Williams opened the door for me to find Tom Hayden and Staughton Lynd's, The Other Side, a report on encounters with North Vietnam in 1965; as well as Hayden's The Love of Possession is Like a Disease with Them, linking America's genocide of First Nation's people with the war in Vietnam.

+ Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody: The 1968 memoir of an African- American woman's struggles with racism and sexism in the Deep South. Moody's witness - and placement on open library stacks - helped me find Robin Morgan, Sisterhood is Powerful (anthology) and Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch.

+ Labor's Untold Story by Richard Boyer and Harold Morais: A brilliant synthesis of the working peoples' movement for safety, democracy and a living wage that was totally absent from any of my official studies. During the mid 70's when I was organizing with the United Farm Workers Union, this book was foundational. It led to Howard Zinn's, The People's History of the United States, and the democratic socialist analysis of Michael Harrington and James Weinstien's The Decline of Socialism in the US.

A few years back I stumbled upon Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your History Textbooks Got Wrong by James Loewen - and it knocked me out. It was more engaging and accurate than Zinn. The 70's and 80's were filled with texts like James Washington's anthology of MLK's works, Prophesy Deliverance by Cornel West, Black Theology by James Cone, a variety of Latin American liberation theologians including A Liberation Theology: Perspectives by Gustavo Guitierrez and Death by Bread Alone and Suffering by Dorotee Soelle.
Today, white Americans searching for ways to be engaged in our current struggle for the Beloved Community, are finding the closing words from Dr. Stackhouse's article to ring true: "To those of us shaped, or misshapen, by our limited educations, we need to remember that (this moment) means going back to school in a way, listening to voices long silenced and demeaned with a hope of seeing through a different lens. It means admitting that we don’t know what we don’t know. It means being clear on how that has shaped our perspective on the world, then opening our minds, hearts and spirits to what we have been missing all along."

Monday, June 29, 2020

balance and gratitude: don't give up

The video clip above comes from my worship leadership yesterday at First Congregational Church, Williamstown, MA. It is a reflection on the pattern of the Paschal Mystery. I am grateful to the leaders and members of First Church for welcoming me and inviting me to share reflections with them during these truly challenging times.
This morning I read these words from the late Henri Nouwen - and they resonated deeply. It is intriguing to me how I can feel disconnected from a writer's wisdom for months and then, mysteriously, her/his words strike something alive within me and I am energized by this unexpected gift.

It is the task of everyone who cares to prevent people— young, middle-aged, and old—from clinging to false expectations and building their lives on false suppositions. If it is true that people age the way they live, our first task is to help people discover their lifestyles in which “being” is not identified with “having,” self-esteem does not depend on success, and goodness is not the same as popularity. Care for the aging means a persistent refusal to attach any kind of ultimate significance to grades, degrees, positions, promotions, or rewards and the courageous effort to keep men and women in contact with their inner self, where they can experience their own solitude and silence as potential recipients of light. When one has not discovered and experienced the light that is love, peace, forgiveness, gentleness, kindness, and deep joy in the early years, how can one expect to recognize it in old age? As the book of Sirach says: “If you have gathered nothing in your youth, how can you find anything in your old age?” (Sirach 25:3–4). That is true not only of money and material goods, but also of peace and purity of heart.

Brother Henri's words speak to me on two levels. First, I tend to lament the goals
in ministry that were NOT realized rather than honor the many that came to pass. Perhaps this is normal in a culture that has made the bottom line an idol. Still, on the days when I am working out in the yard or garden, my mind often drifts back to what might have been but wasn't. And after a few minutes of melancholia, I must consciously say to myself: Let it go, brother, let it go and if you must look backward consider the blessings and joys rather than those place of emptiness. I was looking for a missing photograph this weekend and, in the process, spent a few hours looking through a huge box of pictures. So much to celebrate, so many wonderful people, such a precious family. It was a healing exercise into the very reality Nouwen describes: a bounty of blessings over decades. I brought up from the basement maybe 100 photos (not the ones I am still searching for) to use as a visual icon of God's gracious presence in my life. I trust it will help keep me grounded in both reality and the present moment.

The other part of Nouwen's insight that continues to speak to me has to do with my own aging. I have been modestly healthy for 68 years. After a recent physical with my doctor friend, however, a blood test revealed a higher than healthy level of bad cholesterol. That hit me with a dose of mortality and impelled me to start making a few changes in my diet. During a pre-retirement seminar some ten years back I was stunned to hear a presenter say: "Most of you will live at least another 20-25 years after you end your current ministry." A quarter of a century would put me well into my late 80's and if family history is a piece of the puzzle, that is likely to be true. Meds can help - and I begrudgingly filled the prescription - but attitude and activity matter and I am intent on staying healthy and engaged for as long as possible.

You see, I believe that the current cultural, political, economic and spiritual uprising taking place in the US that is fundamentally driven by young people needs a circle of elders, too. As Richard Rohr documents in his reflections on living into the gifts of the second half of life, there is always a quiet, advisory role for older mentors and given our current tumult that is true in spades. The energy, experiences, anguish, rage, and passion of youth need trusted older allies to be sounding boards and interlocutors in a shared quest for the Beloved Community. And I mean quiet advisors - not mouthy, cranky complainers - but mature friends and counselors who have been around the block a few times. The almost cynical but essentially wise old preacher, Qoheleth, in the Hebrew Bible's book of Ecclesiastes testifies that there is nothing new under the sun.

Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises and the sun goes down, and hurries to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south, and goes around to the north; round and round goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they continue to flow. All things are wearisome; more than one can express; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun. Is there a thing of which it is said, “See, this is new”? It has already been, in the ages before us. The people of long ago are not remembered, nor will there be any remembrance of people yet to come by those who come after them.

A surface reading of the testimony of the old Teacher evokes cynicism and weariness. And that is a part of the truth. But as his insights unfold, I sense an invitation to appreciate the rhythm of life, the pattern of change, the descent and ascent of the Paschal Mystery that includes arising into blessings.
To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.

The Buddha speaks of suffering as well as compassion. Jesus tells us that each day has enough woes within it without adding our own worries. The old Teacher is clear that in the circle of life we will know celebration as well as sorrow. And this is where quiet, time-tested mentors as allies have a role to play in social transformation. Staying healthy is one way I can be an asset rather than a social liability as time passes. I saw today that the jazz pianist, Herbie Hancock, turned 80. He is vibrant, creative and stands as a humble mentor to younger artists. Let's say that I have some work to do in his area - and want to pursue it with gratitude.

Saturday, June 27, 2020

a quiet rainy saturday...

It is dark and quiet today with a light rain falling. The wetlands behind our house
is saturated with shades of green - and a bevy of Queen Anne's lace. The day lilies have started to make an appearance, the gladiolas are still rising, and the last of the irises linger on in all their fading indigo glory. I just finished my worship notes and prayers for tomorrow's Zoom worship with First Congregational Church of Williamstown, MA and I'm lunching on been soup and pita: a quiet, rainy Saturday in the Berkshires.

Earlier this week our new refrigerator arrived. When we bought our house some 13 years ago, the existing appliances were already old. Serviceable but moving towards extinction in true 1980's style. During our sabbatical in Montreal five years ago, the stove gave up the ghost and I learned the joys of being a landlord and having to replace a major appliance while living four hours and an international border away. For the past two years the old refrigerator had been leaking water and filling the bottom of the freezer with an ice swamp that needed constant attention. To avoid greater damage to our hardwood floors - and to bring the kitchen up to snuff after painting - we took the plunge and made the purchase with part of the pandemic stimulus check. I suspect sometime in the next 2 years we'll have to part ways with our prehistoric dishwasher, too - although I rather like taking it apart from time to time to clean and make minor repairs. But, as George Harrison wistfully reminds us: "All Things Must Pass."

Later this afternoon I will search for a few photos which have gone MIA and then add them and some beloved art to my study's wall. There is precious little free space but I feel the need to re-introduce some old friends to the gallery. They tell part of my story and I hadn't realized how much I missed them until a friend posted pictures of the martyrs of Mississippi: Goodman, Schwerner and Chaney. 
I look forward to both the search for these old photo acquaintances and then finding a way to add them to this sacred room. There are books to resort and replace, too so it will be one of my favorite rainy day adventures. Emily Dickinson evokes what some rainy days feel like in "Summer Shower."

A Drop fell on the Apple Tree –
Another – on the Roof –
A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves –
And made the Gables laugh –

A few went out to help the Brook,
That went to help the Sea –
Myself Conjectured were they Pearls –
What Necklaces could be –

There is another layer to these quiet, ordinary times, too. Sometimes I find myself writing about this layer without knowing exactly why. It is a bit self-indulgent, I know, so I usually delete such postings without any sharing. But then there are times like today when, well, it feels like the poem by Pablo Neruda he calls "Keeping Quiet."

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.

Life is what it is about...

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.

Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.


Once upon a time I read an "Affirmation of Faith" somewhere that began with a
simple statement like: I trust that God is love. To which the gathered faithful were invited to say: Yes, I believe. And then a series of more complex and challenging statements were offered, and after each the people were asked to join in the affirmation IF they could. I wish I could find that again, but it seems it will remain an 
elusive and evocative gift (that's probably better left to my imagination.) But that is what these two poems feel like to me. Dickinson captures one quiet moment in time, while Neruda finds another layer. And I affirm them both - and probably more, too.

In these truly complicated times of righteous uprising and contagion, when leaders lie without shame and the innocent die in record numbers because of their lies, right now I can only be quiet. And add a poster from Nicaragua and Picasso's "Guernica" to my gallery wall.

Thursday, June 25, 2020

returning thanks and sharing gifts...

This coming Sunday, June 28, 2020 @ 10 am I have the privilege of leading
Zoom worship once again with my friends at First Congregational Church, Williamstown. I will post the Zoom link on my Be Still and personal Face Book pages when they have been announced. You may also tune-in Sunday morning via the congregation's Face Book page @https://
ChurchWilliamstown/. I will, of course, post a link later in the day to my Be Still and Know FB site, too. (go to:

It is also a quiet and regular joy in my life to share Friday afternoon prayer with my L'Arche Ottawa friends. I have not been able to visit in person since early in February. But, twice a week they gather on Zoom for conversation, laughter, tears, sharing, song, and reflection on life in community. It has been especially demanding for the associates who have been in lock down mode for 100+ days. When these mostly young adults from all over the world signed-on for a year at L'Arche, no one imagined the intensity of being totally immersed in community 24/7 with precious few opportunities for down time. They have been wonderful in rising to the challenge and my prayers are with them often. 

Since Pentecost, we have been working through a community-made booklet of short readings that correspond to the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. Each Friday I get to share a short homily and give thanks to God for a chance to share my gifts with the people who have given me so much. Here's one from two weeks ago on the gift of joy.

TEXT: Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, my friend, because you have refreshed the hearts of God’s people. (Philemon 1:7)

REFLECTION: 
There are different types of joy that we experience in our lives – and appreciating what the Bible has to say about God’s joy within us can be helpful. Sometimes we feel joy as a happy, giddy feeling – an emotion – that surprises us. It fills us up inside when it arrives then slowly passes away when it is over. Being happy is a feeling that can include the quiet satisfaction we sense when we do a job well, the fun we know when laughing hard with our friends, or our delight when something wonderful happens to us or those we love. It comes to us from the outside – from people, events, and things – and stays for a while and then fades away.

Joy is something deeper. Joy is not a feeling or emotion. It is an inward awareness that we are treasured in God’s heart just for being alive – not for anything we have done or said or created – simply because we are beloved by God. That is why joy is called a spiritual gift. God gives it to us as we realize and accept that we are special to the Lord. Jesus used the word beloved of the Lord – and that means you and me: it names us as those who are loved inside and out for all time by our Creator. And because God gave it to us as a gift, joy cannot be taken away: it is always in our hearts. Not a feeling, that comes and goes, but an assurance or awareness that God’s heart is always connected to our own. Our feelings will come and go. Sometimes we are up, sometimes we are down. A country music song says: sometimes we’re the windshield, sometimes we’re the bug. But God’s joy is always within us even when we’re sad or ashamed or blue. God’s joy is forever.

Jesus told his friends that the reason God had sent him into the world was to help us discover the gift of joy – and learn to trust it. He said, “I have come so that your joy may be full.” (Jn 17: 13) No matter what happens outside of us – and there will always be times when we are hurt or afraid or confused – Jesus assured us that God’s love is always there. The more we trust this joy, Jesus continued, the more peace we will feel inside. And the more at peace we feel within, the more generous we can be with acts of love to others. The spiritual gift of joy is a blessing that we can nourish by giving thanks to God and by taking time to be quiet and remember: we are God’s beloved. Forever!
 


Monday, June 22, 2020

cornovirus blues: how long? not long!

Today I felt how worn-out I am with the lock down. It's been creeping into my consciousness for a few weeks, but as a contemplative introvert I haven't minded the solitude. I still don't. Being still and alone in the garden, or in prayer or study, has NOT been a personal burden. To be sure, I ache in missing my children and our grandchildren. And I am sad that our 25th anniversary trip to Nova Scotia has been scuttled. But with a few minor exceptions, scrupulously observing sheltering at home has been an important act of social solidarity: we adhere to it both for our own health as well as the well being of those more vulnerable.

And still I felt the cumulative weariness of the past 100+ days today, perhaps knowing that there is more - much more - yet to come. It wasn't a pity party so much as an extended groan resonating through every part of my being. The coronavirus blues.Then, when I least expected it, I saw a post on FB from a friend in Canada about today being the 56th anniversary of the murder of Civil Rights martyrs Goodman, Schwerner and Chaney. The text of his message reads:

On this day, 21 June 1964, three civil rights workers were murdered by police and Ku Klux Klan members in Mississippi. James Earl Chaney, a 21-year-old Black former union plasterer and organizer with the Congress Of Racial Equality (CORE) from nearby Meridian, Mississippi, Andrew Goodman, a 20-year-old Jewish anthropology student from New York, and Michael 'Mickey' Schwerner, a 24-year-old Jewish CORE organizer
and former social worker from New York were lynched on the night of June 21–22 by members of the Mississippi White Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, the Neshoba County's Sheriff Office and the Philadelphia Police Department located in Philadelphia, Mississippi.

The three had been working on the "Freedom Summer" campaign, attempting to register African Americans to vote. While seven of the killers ended up being jailed on federal charges of civil rights violations, the state of Mississippi didn't prosecute anyone for the murders until 2005, when they eventually charged one of the killers with manslaughter. He was then convicted and sentenced to 60 years imprisonment.
Chaney's younger brother Ben later joined the Black Panther Party and the urban guerrilla group the Black Liberation Army, for which he ended up serving 13 years in prison.
Immediately, from some place deep inside, the words of an old African-American sermon resonated in my heart: Hold on, sisters and brothers! How long? Not long! So hold on... And I wondered where my pictures of their memorial wound up in the basement? Back in the summer of 1982, I was in Philadelphia, MS working as an organizer with the Mississippi Wood Cutters Association. Wood cutters are the heirs of chattel slaves who continued to work the land for large white land owners
after Reconstruction. And, Philadelphia was where Goodman, Schwerner and Chaney were working during the Congress of Racial Equality's (CORE) Freedom Summer of registering voters throughout the South. 

One day driving the dirt roads outside of Philadelphia, I came across a modern United Methodist Church. It had been burned to the ground shortly before the three civil rights workers were kidnapped, tortured, murdered and buried in a nearby lake. Noticing the memorial marker, but having no idea that I was on hallowed ground, my young daughter and I got out of the car to see what we had stumbled upon. An elderly African American man watched from his front porch across the road and eventually sauntered over to ask if we needed help. He was a deacon in the church. And when I spoke with quiet reverence about both the burned church and the murdered martyrs, he invited us to join him for some lemonade. Over the next few months we visited his home often: he arranged a small cot on his back porch for us to rest on when organizing kept us out too late, his wife regularly set out a small bowl of butter beans for us to eat when she knew we were in the area (we were vegetarians at the time), and he introduced me to other woodcutters who were interested in changing the power dynamics of their poverty. It was a blessed surprise that I have held close to my heart for decades.

Seeing the pictures of the Mississippi martyrs snapped me out of my privileged doldrums - at least for now. How long? Not long... I believe the holy calls to us in a variety of small ways every day to encourage and guide us along the way. This is a really odd and trying time of staying vigilant and engaged - especially when so many young activists are out in the street - and I am too old to join them. I am also worried sick for them as the plague is no where near done with us yet. So, I returned thanks to God for the Face Book wake up call, thanked God, too for my friend's posting, and asked for a little more courage and patience. 
Serendipitously, one of my daughters posted this picture yesterday on Father's Day. It was taken moments after they got off the train from NYC to join me for part of the summer's organizing in Mississippi. How long? In the grand scheme of things, Lord, not long. (And now I need to go find those pictures!)

Sunday, June 21, 2020

reflections on the nativity of st. john the baptist and the mass poor people's campaign

This morning's live-stream on Face Book...
This weekend was momentous in a number of ways. The work that the Reverends Barber and Theoharis - and their excellent staff and organizers -have accomplished over the pat two years is staggering in depth, integrity, and power. It authenticates the sense that this moment IS a kairos moment when the direction of the nation will change. Another sign must include the pitiful turnout at the Tulsa "Klandemic" rally sponsored by the regime's re-election campaign. And do not forget the on-going civil rebellion in our streets driven by the Holy Spirit and Black Lives Matters organizers. The fear, grief, rage, hope and possibilities for healing of our long-suffering people has bubbled over the top and out into every village, city and hamlet - including many throughout the world. 

In an interview with Bill Moyers, the Rev. Dr. James Forbes put it like this: "I hope that white people can see there’s no need to deny any longer. There’s no need to lie any longer. There’s no need to claim somebody else and blame somebody else for the evils of the past. They are part of our history. I hope that they would be able to see how great will be the day when we, having made peace with the evils of the past as our evils, but accept the grace of God as forgiveness, and the invitation of God to be participants in building the new reality, the new world. I hope white people can see forgiveness is available if you decide you want to be a part of the human race in unity and justice and peaceful resolve. I hope they will see the prospect of living in the forgiving grace of God, and walking toward the beloved community, or as we like to say, the more perfect union."
And the Reverend Dr. William Barber II underscored the Jubilee possibilities when he said:

But the fact is that people are both mourning in the street and marching in the street and nonviolently facing rubber bullets – and THAT is the hope of this nation and this world. The very fact that people are protesting means they haven't given up on this society. This kind of protest means hope is still alive and people are willing to fight for it. Because you don't protest what you think is done and finished. As a minister, I believe that what we are seeing in America with all the people coming together because of George Floyd's killing and the marching and protesting to make a better country and world is a kind of political Pentecost. It is, in fact, the spirit of the Lord, grabbing people from all different directions and saying, we will refuse to be comforted. And we are not ready to give up, not just on this democracy in America, but we are not willing to give up our humanity. This is a movement trying to help American democracy to breathe. Justice is trying to breathe. What we are witnessing is the breath of the people and the breath of God resisting the suffocation, resisting the lynching and resisting the death. And in a real sense, when George Floyd breathed his last breath, that breath came into us. And now all those breaths of the past, all those sufferers and martyrs of the past, when they give their last breath it does not go away, it comes into us. Right now, in America with this movement there is love and truth and justice breathing, the American people are resisting the suffocation and resisting the death. And I thank God it is happening.

So, do I, Dr. Barber, so do I.

Saturday, June 20, 2020

a jubilee celebration on the eve of the solstice: the poor people's campaign goes public

If you have not yet checked in with the Poor People's Campaign for a National Moral Revival, you owe it to yourself to do so ASAP. For the past few years, this broad inter-faith, inter-disciplinary coalition has been building bridges and now they are going public in a big way. If you have been despairing, not just because of the current regime (although that swamp is an ethical black hole), but because of the renewed presence of white nationalist domestic terrorists and other forms of intolerance, you need this boost. Run, do not walk, to:
https://www.june2020.org 
You will want to make time for this conversation, too between Bill Moyers and his long-time friend, the Rev. Dr. James Forbes. It is equally edifying and insightful. Especially on the same day that the regime holds its Coronavirus-Fest in Tulsa.
https://billmoyers.com/story/bill-moyers-talks-with-dr-james-forbes/. My old professor of homeletics at Union Theological Seminary and pastor emeritus at the Riverside Church in NYC said:

I hope that white people can see there’s no need to deny any longer. There’s no need to lie any longer. There’s no need to claim somebody else and blame somebody else for the evils of the past. They are part of our history. I hope that they would be able to see how great will be the day when we, having made peace with the evils of the past as our evils, but accept the grace of God as forgiveness, and the invitation of God to be participants in building the new reality, the new world. I hope white people can see forgiveness is available if you decide you want to be a part of the human race in unity and justice and peaceful resolve. I hope they will see the prospect of living in the forgiving grace of God, and walking toward the beloved community, or as we like to say, the more perfect union.

Perhaps you'll want to join me, too tomorrow, Sunday, June 21st @ 9:55 am on my spiritual direction page on Face Book - Be Still and Know  (go to:
https://www.facebook.com/Be-Still-and-Know-913217865701531/) as I look at some of the connections between the Feast Day of St. John the Baptist and the prophets testifying in our streets on the eve of the Summer Solstice.

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

a national call for moral revival: june 20th poor people's campaign

Adding more basil and dill to the herb garden on the deck is a little slice of heaven
for me on a sweet day in the Berkshires. I spent time weeding what was to be my pumpkin patch - damn deer - as well as cleaning up the raised bed bee wildflower spread. This morning it felt like it was time to reread Richard Rohr's four books on male spirituality, initiation and healing. As I told my primary care doc later in the day - a good friend and music-making buddy whom I haven't visited professionally for over a decade - over the past two weeks I have sensed a real albeit inchoate shift in the soul of our nation. We have been exhausted by cynicism, spiritually abused by the hatred spewing from the current regime, grieving beyond any frame of reference in a pandemic and starving for meaning as we careen from one disaster to the next. My heart feels as if all of that was necessary and is not being
tempered by a renewal of compassion. With hearts broken open in solidarity, it feels like the song the ancient Psalmist sang: 

Certainly you will again restore our life,
that your people may rejoice in you.
Show us, LORD, your mercy;
grant us your salvation.
I will listen for what God, the LORD, has to say;
surely he will speak of peace
To his people and to his faithful.
May they not turn to foolishness!
Near indeed is his salvation for those who fear him;
glory will dwell in our land.
Love and truth will meet;
justice and peace will kiss.
Truth will spring from the earth;
justice will look down from heaven.
Yes, the LORD will grant his bounty;
our land will yield its produce.
(Psalm 85)
The Rev. William Barber put it like this: The new nation being born in our streets must reckon with four centuries of systemic inequality. This is about more than policing. The question before us is whether America can be what it has promised to be. This coming Saturday, June 20, there will be a 21st century revival of MLK's life's work: The Poor People's Campaign. I sensed my call into ministry in the shadow of Dr. King's national rally in Washington, DC 52 years ago. And given the police free zone in Seattle - oh the spirit of Occupy lives on - the insightful and potent organizing work being done by Black Lives Matter and the NAACP youth section, and the Poor People's Campaign: it is clear that morning in struggling to be born in America. There will be clouds. And set backs. There will be fear and ugly resistance, too. But the arch of the moral universe tips ever so slightly towards justice. When I was young, this is what the invitations sounded like to me. It is rougher in 2020 - more edgy and direct - but no less essential.

Monday, June 15, 2020

wrestling with st. john the baptist...

On June 24th the Western Christian Church celebrates the birthday of St. John the
Baptist. This is the only other birthday included in the liturgical calendar: the nativity of Jesus on December 25th and six months later, in the middle of the year, the birth of the Baptist. I love wrestling with the promise and problems presented by John the Baptizer: his role as a prophet is stark and demanding, his challenge to the ripening alternative spirituality of Jesus is insightful, and his testimony through the Scriptures is paradoxical. Throughout my adult life I have carried on what might be called a lover's quarrel with John. There have been times when I identified with his unflinching cal for social justice. And, there have been times when his way became repugnant to me, too. I have always taken him seriously, but find that my heart is somewhat schizophrenic theologically when it comes to what he means for me and the church.

So, this Sunday on my Face Book live streaming reflection I will share with you where I am with my quest for honoring St. John the Baptist. The writer, Kelly Chirpczuk, articulated this truth about John on her blog, This Contemplative Life - and it rings true.

He didn’t see it, but felt it
through the darkness
of his mother’s womb,
the flame that baptized
drawn close enough
to singe his foot,
which caused him to leap.

The wild fire caught
and grew, ruining him
for a life of conformity.
So he moved to the wilderness
somewhere near the river’s edge
where others were drawn
by the smoldering flame.
He doused them each with water,
warning them one-by-one
of the fire to come.

Later, when he leapt
from this world to the next,
leaving his head behind,
he was greeted by the fellowship
of the flame – Isaiah
with his charred black lips,
Miriam who danced
like a flickering wick,
and the others, too many now to name
together they glowed like
so many embers,
lighting the long, dark night.

A lengthy poem by John Shea, "John the Baptist," includes these lines that are equally true.

I can denounce a king, but I cannot enthrone one.

I can strip an idol of its power, but I cannot reveal the true God.
I can wash the soul in sand, but I cannot dress it in white.
I can devour the word of the Lord like wild honey, but I cannot lace his sandal.
I can condemn sin, but I cannot bear it away.
Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.
John is so rich - and complicated. His feast day in the Southwest roughly coincides with the start of the summer rainy season. He was Christ's mentor in the early days of a desert spirituality - not unlike the wild or green man of archetypal wisdom - as well as his foil while in prison. I hope you will join me: Sunday, June 21 @ 9:55 am.


Sunday, June 14, 2020

finding balance for corpus christi sunday...


WORSHIP NOTES: Corpus Christi Sunday
When I was a young pastor in Saginaw, MI and Cleveland, OH I loved the music of John Michael Talbot. I used to play this over and over…

I am the bread of life – all who eat this bread – will never die.
I am God’s love revealed – I am broken that you might be healed.


John Michael was a midwestern rock’n’roller who converted to Christianity and eventually became a Franciscan monk. If you spent any time with the Jesus Freaks of the 70s or the charismaniacs of the 80’s you probably heard his songs. They were gentle musical reflections on the scriptures using catchy, folk melodies over acoustic guitars and recorders.

I am the bread of life – all who eat this bread – will never die.
I am God’s love revealed – I am broken that you might be healed.


There were a whole batch of mostly white, folk-oriented artists bringing new acoustic music into the church back in the day: think George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord” or the Monks of the Weston Priory or the St. Louis Jesuits. They celebrated the liturgical renewal in the Roman Catholic Church after Vatican II as well as the secular cultural revolution of ethics, aesthetics, politics, and sexuality that swept through Western society after WWII. Allen Ginsberg was the Old Testament prophet who told us that he “had seen the best minds of his generation destroyed by madness,” the Beatles prayed in the hope that all we needed was love, Dr. King articulated a dream where “no one would be judged by the color of their skin, but rather by the content of their character,” Rachel Carson warned of the approaching ecological apocalypse of a “silent spring,” Maya Angelou testified that while a racist, misogynist culture might “write her down in history, with its bitter twisted lies, you may trod me in the very dirt, but still like dust I rise,” and Aretha Franklyn made it clear to anyone with ears to hear that the time had come for “R-E-S-P-E-C-T – better find out what that means to me!”

I share this journey down memory lane with you at the start of my reflection because today is Corpus Christi Sunday – a feast day first imagined by St. Thomas Aquinas in the 13th century CE – to celebrate the Body of Christ. Most of us in the Reformed tradition don’t do much with this feast day because we hold competing doctrines about the meaning of the bread of life and cup of blessing. Anglicans and Lutherans have attempted to toss it out at different times, too only to bring it back to teach their flocks about Eucharist. Opening hearts and minds to the blessings and responsibilities of Communion is a good thing: celebrating Eucharist connects us one to the another, to Christ Jesus our Lord, and to the grace of God that is greater than all our differences, failings and sins.

But the bread and wine – the body and blood of Jesus – are only part of Corpus Christ – the Body of Christ. The other part, too often forgotten or neglected, is that in the Spirit and love of Jesus, WE are the Body of Christ, too. You and me, neighbors and strangers, friends and enemies, those who look and think like ourselves as well as those who are wildly and wonderfully different: we, too are the body of Christ. And reclaiming this sacred connection is essential to a living 21st century faith that recognizes and honors the presence of Jesus in ALL flesh and blood. I grew up using the words, “We accept the cost and joy of discipleship,” and it trained me to believe that emphasizing only what happens at the communion table can be a spiritual diversion from our deeper calling to live as one body with all humanity.

You see, we can argue about the meaning of the body and blood of Jesus for millennia – in fact, we have, feeling self-righteous and sanctified doing so, too – without ever once cherishing the presence of Jesus in those around us. Or those we have learned to hate. Or ignore. Or oppress. And therein lies the cost and joy of celebrating Corpus Christi Sunday at this moment in time: to practice a radically open communion table would mean we recognize the face of Jesus in all people and in creation. Two thoughts from Scripture have helped me extend this radical solidarity: one from St. Paul’s writing and the other from St. John’s gospel.

It might be useful to recall that St. Paul sensed his calling was to welcome both Jewish Christians and Gentile believers into God’s covenant of grace. We often forget that Paul was NOT arguing with Jews who chose not to engage the way of Jesus – that was their right and free choice – and he respected this choice. Rather, St. Paul was challenging those Jews who HAD chosen to follow Jesus yet insisted that Gentile believers submit to the same outward rules that guided Judaism in the first century CE: like circumcision, the rigors of the holiness codes, or dietary regulations. St. Paul came to trust that Christ’s love is what made us one body so our love was how we efleshed Christ with one another. We might have different gifts, traditions, insights and experiences, yet if we loved one another as Jesus loved us, it didn’t what we ate, how we ate, whether our flesh had been ritually cut according to tradition, or if we followed the fasts and feasts of the First Covenant with Israel.

In I Corinthians 12 Paul tells us that now WE are the body of Christ. People have been given
different gifts, but they all come from the same Spirit; there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; varieties of activities, but the same God who activates all of them in everyone. Each of us has been given a manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these gifts are activated by one and the same Spirit of love, who allots gifts to us individually in order to help the whole body mature in the common good.

St. Paul said that this love is built into the very fabric of creation: look at your own body; it is one with itself yet has many parts, and all the members of the body, though many, are still one. So too in the body of Christ. We were brought together by love: Jews and Gentiles, slave and free – rich and poor, male and female – and one part of our flesh is no less important than another, right? We need hands, and feet, and tongues, and hearts.

Intuitively we know that the parts we cover up in humility, our private or embarrassing parts, are given greater protection. So, we should do likewise in the living body of Christ – giving our weaker and more vulnerable members greater space and respect because we are bound together in love. And just so that there could be no ambiguity Paul adds that while all of our gifts have been given to us by God’s loving spirit, the greatest of them is love. Those who know me well know that I favor Peterson’s reworking of I Corinthians 13: “No matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.”

Love never gives up. Love cares more for others than for self. Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have, doesn’t strut, doesn’t have a swelled head, doesn’t force itself on others, isn’t always “me first,” doesn’t fly off the handle, doesn’t keep score of the sins of others, doesn’t revel when others grovel, takes pleasure in the flowering of truth, puts up with anything, trusts God always, always looks for the best, never looks back, but keeps going to the end. Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled. When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good. We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us! But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.

St. Paul is clear that the visible and physically present body and blood of Christ in the world right now is how you and I live as Jesus right now. It is a different form of Jesus after the Cross, but it is how Jesus is present in the world through you and me. Paul goes on to say that the love we share with openness and generosity is more important than how we describe the bread and wine at Eucharist. If there is no love, we turn the feast of communion into a farce. And the apostle wasn’t speaking abstractly. In his day, most worship took place in the homes of believers and before worship and communion there was usually a meal for the whole community. In Corinth, and probably other places, too, what started to happen was that rich believers would get to the house church first, divide up all the good food for themselves, and leave the poor members mostly scraps. Paul said: you can’t do that in love! You can’t do that if you are Jesus in a different form. You are ONE body now, the body of Christ, so you act like it: share equally, paying special attention to those who have less, make the love of Jesus flesh among you. For THIS is how the world recognizes the body of Christ in history. And I sense that St. John teaches this, too.

For all his talk about eating my flesh and drinking my blood in chapter 6 of St. John’s gospel – and I’ll say something about that in just a moment – John’s text never shows us Jesus at Eucharist. In an article in the National Catholic Reporter, the late Roman Catholic Bishop Thomas Gumbleton wrote:: “John does not even mention how Jesus took bread, blessed it, broke it and said, ‘This is my body… this is my blood.” That’s not in his gospel at all.” Matthew, Mark, and Luke have those words at the Last Supper – possibly this was part of the Passover Supper Jesus shared before the Cross – but St. John never does. Do you know what Jesus does tell us to do in remembrance of him in St. John’s gospel? LOVE one another as I have loved you. Gumbleton continues:

In John’s gospel… at that last supper where Jesus showed the disciples more than anything else what he had come among them to demonstrate about God's love, God's wisdom, and what they were to do to follow him. There is one striking example… where Jesus acts as a slave to his friends: Jesus went to each disciple, knelt before them, and washed their feet… When he was finished, he said, "What I have done, I have done as an example for you and you must do the same. Do THIS in remembrance of me."

So what Jesus is teaching us, and how we build up the body of Jesus, the community of disciples, the church, is by reaching out in love to one another… Kneeling in humility and sharing extra-ordinary acts of compassion as Jesus did as a slave. Do THIS in remembrance of me.

Remember that St. John formulated his story of Jesus, his gospel, in a different context than Paul. ST. Paul was at work from about 35-60 of the Common Era. John was writing some 20 years later – after the Jewish community in Jerusalem revolted against Rome, after the second Temple was destroyed, after the Jewish Christian community in Jerusalem refused to join in the Jewish rebellion against Rome, and after many of those in Jewish Christians fled the Holy City for safety in Syria. St. John’s community included Jewish Christians who got out of town, as well as Gentile believers who never lived in Israel and Samaritans who had historically been looked down upon by traditional Jews. By the time John wrote down his gospel, there was real enmity between those still loyal to the synagogues and new Christians who were finding a new way beyond tradition. And that is why St. John puts some feisty words into the mouth of Jesus:

· Eat my flesh? Drink my blood? Contemporary religious sociologists tell us that St. John employed symbolic language with multiple meanings throughout his gospel both to encourage those inside the church and alienate those on the outside. They call this “anti-language” where those who know how to interpret the code are comforted while those who take the words at face value are scandalized.

· In John 6 the face value words sound like cannibalism to those on the outside. To those on the inside, however, flesh has to do with bread – the staff of life – and blood becomes wine – the drink of a celebration. Further it was believed that blood held the essence of life – that is why blood was used in religious sacrifice and given only to God – the essence of life was returned to the source.

In symbolic language, the Johanine community was saying: Jesus has given us the staff of real life to sustain us and welcomed us into the very source of creativity with a feast. When we symbolically eat and drink his essence, we take him deep into ourselves. At the same time, those same words drove those with whom they were arguing wacky! It is, if you will, much like what happens in an intense family feud. I’ve heard – and said – some dreadful things to those I love in those kinds of fights. You may have used words that were not very loving but heated and exaggerated, too. Well, that’s part of what’s going on here. To link bread with his flesh and wine with his blood in John’s gospel is to say the totality of life comes from Jesus – nourishment and festivity -for he was broken so that we might be made whole.

On Corpus Christi Sunday 2020, I want to suggest that this neglected and diminished truth about the body and blood of Jesus be celebrated more than whatever we believe about the bread and wine. The Christian Church is as divided and unloving now as it ever has been in history: some are insisting that this era requires a radical love in the world that breaks down barriers while others demand the imposition of a harsh law and order on everyone who differs from a white status quo. Some of us see a Savior who laid down his life in love for others while others cry out for an avenging angel of judgment.

Some seek to dismantle white supremacy, honor and protect Black and Brown Lives, unlock the cages holding the babies of our immigrant sisters and brothers on our border, wear masks to ensure the safety of our most vulnerable citizens, and reorder our economics so that sharing by all means scarcity for none. While other sisters and brothers celebrate the Confederate flag, believe that there are good people inside white supremacist organizations, and hate anything that has to do with the legacy of Barack Obama. There are those who believe that we become Christ’s body in the world through tenderness, and, those who require a rigid exclusivity to God’s grace that is cruel, punitive, and mean-spirited.

Some of us see a world cracking apart that invites us to step through the portal of change and trust love even in this present darkness, while others seem hellbent on holding on to their privilege with guns, violence and fear. For most of my public life I have believed that the only way to advance the cause of Christ’s radical love in history is to organize better than those who oppose it. And I still believe that organizing matters returning thanks to God for the creative and sacrificial work being done by young justice activists in the Black Lives Matter movement. They are setting the agenda for us all. They are turning heartbreak into compassion and justice and showing us all how our wounds can become the path into deep healing. To reframe this in the words of our tradition: they are showing how the body and blood of Christ – and the wounds and scars of injustice - have been called by God into acts of solidarity for the common good.

· The Eucharist is only part of what it means to celebrate the Body and Blood of Christ. It is the easy part – and as much as I cherish it – if the body of Christ remains just bread and wine, the elements of Eucharist rather than the Christ’s living body of radical love in another form for the common good of the whole community – then who cares? I think Fr. Richard Rohr was right when he said that instead of following Jesus as a way of life, we turned the way of Jesus into a region; instead of going down Christ’s path that brings us into solidarity and union with one another, we created religious clubs that celebrated our insignificant difference.

· And that’s why I have asked you to join with me today to celebrate Eucharist together albeit it digitally on this feast day of Corpus Christi: we need to restore and reclaim some balance to this feast so that the common good is at least as significant as the bread and wine. That may scandalize some – and it probably should. But as a privileged, old, bourgeois white guy I can’t keep breaking the bread and sharing the cup unless I am giving part of my heart to those whose bodies and spirits are broken daily by white supremacy.

Like St. Paul made clear: what strengthens one part of the body, strengthens the whole. And what causes one part to pain, wounds us all. For many of us white folk, we’re going to be somewhat out of balance and uncomfortable for a while. We have a lot to learn about what it means to live as ONE body for the common good. With a twinkle in her eye and a smile upon her lips, the late Maya Angelou used to say, “Do the best you can until you know better. And then when you KNOW better, DO better.” The poet, Maren Tirabassi, in part of her poem, “If Matthew were writing the 11th chapter of his gospel today…” wrote remember:

The world is full of yoke-makers, who take strange pleasure
in pouring out the unrest of their own souls
by creating burdens for God’s children…
This is how you will know that their laws come from the demonic --
they take what God makes light and make it heavy,
for Christ said -- I am gentle and humble, so that by contrast


I sense that in the middle of our fears – in the soul of our resistance – as the inverse of the hatred, and the heart of creativity within the emerging movement for compassion and justice rising up beyond the lockdown of the pandemic there is Jesus saying: come unto me all ye who are tired and heavy-laden… come to me everyone whose burned out on religion and I will show you the unforced rhythms of grace that lead to REAL life. What wounds one, wounds us all and what strengthens one is cause for a feast for all committed to the common good. And THAT is a feast day I can really celebrate.

 

Saturday, June 13, 2020

remember that this has passed before: gardening and eucharist

A quiet day for renewal and reflection in our part of the world. Parts of our garden have been
molested by what appears to be voles. They root around, poking the earth in an ugly way, eat the bulbs and roots of our plants, and probably the slugs, too. I am grateful for the later but not so much for the rest of their mess. Last night I made a gallon of chili pepper water to spray both the vegetables and then pour on their holes. We shall see - I will be ordering some castor oil, too as they apparently truly hate it's taste. Di made pancakes to mark this date in our journey together and then we went out to do our own garden work: she pulled out the invasive and relentless poke wee and then cut back the day lilies so that the stone wall was visible once more; while I took down some dead branches on the black birch. A good time was had by all. 
Later I got tomorrow's message and online Eucharist set up - and came across this stunning and clarifying prayer/poem by Padraig O'Tuama: "Hold yourself together and pull yourself apart."

(In a time of desolation do not make a life-changing decision and do not go back on a decision made during a time of consolation. Remember the times of consolation. Ignatius of Loyola)

Remember that this has passed before
and that there will be more days
of plenty... eventually.

Pay attention to your feelings
keep those feelings sharp.
Try to hold yourself together
and pull yourself apart.
Keep your eyes on the prize 
that you might never gain.

Don't ignore whatever pain is blooming
like a flower that you never planted.
Occupy your hands with kindness.
Remember you can see, even though this blindness
is remarkable.

Mark the places that you're feeling
mark the spaces where you're needing held
mark the evenings that are dark
and mark the afternoon of coping.

Mark the morning that you waken
finding mourning has been taken
to a different part of heartland.

Remember what has passed before.
Pour your body like the sacramental wine
pour your blood with loving.

Now it is time for chicken and herbs and lemon pasta and salad from our garden. I give thanks for this day and look forward to sharing Eucharist with some of you in the morning.
 

Tuesday, June 9, 2020

considering corpus christi sunday: june 14 online eucharist

One of the gifts I have been given during the sheltering at home days of the pandemic is
writing and sharing brief spiritual reflections for our L'Arche Ottawa community. Since our respective modest "lock downs" went into effect some 12 weeks ago, the spirituality committee (of which I am a part) has been hosting two Zoom gatherings each week: Tuesday at 7 pm and Fridays at 4 pm. I have been unable to participate in our Tuesday evenings for a variety of reasons, but have been at most Friday celebrations. And while Zoom is an imperfect medium, it still allows about 40 of us friends, core members in the L'Arche community homes, leadership team members as well as former assistants from around the world a chance to see one another, share stories and prayers, sing and reflect on a passage of Scripture. Early on I was invited to share a brief set of spiritual reflections based upon the lectionary text of the day and have found this to be a rich way of staying connected. That another friend can translate my words into French - and share it in French for the Francophone folk - adds grace upon grace. 

Another unexpected gift of this contagion has been my weekly FB live-streaming worship reflections. They started in support of a congregation I was going to visit for supply preaching. When all non-essential gatherings were prohibited in early March, however, I suggested we try to use Face Book to stay connected as a community in worship. With minor glitches, this not only worked out for the church, but gave impetus to my staying "live on-line" after my two week stint was over. (Thanks be to God this congregation has now mastered their own version of Zoom worship and I will have the privilege of joining them again at the end of this month for Sunday, June 28th @ 10 am.) It has been both invigorating to explore sharing Sunday morning thoughts with a small collection of friends and gratifying as the weekly viewings grow. It is a very home-grown affair with no glitz or high tech programming: just me, sometimes my guitar and the words of Scripture shared in a contemplative reflection.

On both Palm Sunday and Easter, we hosted an in-home Eucharist with a streamlined liturgy available for printing ahead of time. In the liturgical life of the wider church, this coming Sunday is Corpus Christi Sunday, or, the Solemnity of the Body of Christ. As a child of the Reformation I have never given this high holy day my attention. To be sure, I have written and spoken a GREAT deal about Eucharist and living as a part of Christ's body; but I have not explored the texts or theme for that day. 

So... this week I shall - and I think it is time to celebrate Holy Communion with my sheltering in place friends, too. Here is the liturgy we will use. Please print it out or have it available for your use on Sunday morning. At the close of the liturgy I have printed out a simple recipe for a communion loaf. You will want to set your table and have wine/juice available, too. To join me and a few others, please go to my spiritual direction page on Face Book at

Celebration of Eucharist


Gathering, Welcome and Simple Taizé Chant
Kyrie, kyrie eleison – kyrie, kyrie eleison. (2x)


Call to Worship and Prayer
Leader: Open my lips, O Lord,
People: And my mouth shall proclaim your praise.
Leader: Create in me a clean heart, O God.
People: And renew a right spirit within me.

Leader: Cast me not away from your presence,
People: And take not your holy Spirit from me.
Leader: Give to me the joy of your saving help,
People: And sustain me with your never-ending love.
Leader: Blessed be God: Creator, Christ and Holy Spirit.
People: And blessed be the presence of God’s grace in our lives, now and forever.
Leader: Let us pray.
Unison: Almighty God, our hearts are open to you: our desires are known, and no secrets are denied. Cleanse us in the ways we need most by the loving presence of your Holy Spirit, that we may return thanks to you in this time of prayer and renew our commitment to living into the ways of Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen.

Sung Response (Old Hundredth)
Praise God from whom all blessings flow; Praise Christ, all creatures here below;
Praise Holy Spirit evermore: One God, Triune, whom we adore. Amen.


The Lessons and Prayer
v Deuteronomy 8: 14-16
v Psalm 125: 1-2
v John 6: 51-58

The Reflection

The Affirmation of Faith
Glory be to the Creator, and to the Christ, and to the Holy Spirit;
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

The Great Thanksgiving

Leader: The Lord is with you.
People: And also with you.
Leader: Lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them to the Lord.
Leader: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: It is right give God thanks and praise.
Leader: It is right… 

Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might,

Heaven and earth are full of your glory: Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord: Hosanna in the highest.


Let us continue to pray: Holy and gracious God… all this we ask through Jesus Christ: by him, with him and in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all honor and glory are yours, Almighty God, now and forever. Amen.

The people may pray the Lord’s Prayer here in their own tradition

The Communion of the People

Leader: These are the gifts of God for the whole people of God. All who hunger and thirst for a better life, for a deeper faith, for a more just and loving world: here is the bread of life – feed on it with gratitude.
People: Amen.

The people may share the bread at this time.


Leader: Here is the cup of blessing – poured out for us in abundance - drink from it and believe.
People: Amen.

The people may share the cup at this time.

Leader: Let us pray…

The Blessing and Sung Response: Eight-fold Alleluia 
A few notes: our liturgical language is borrowed from the Book of Common Prayer which allows us to use it without violating any copyright concerns. If you would like to prepare you own Eucharistic Bread, I have found this recipe simple and fun, and have used to with great success. I cut it down given it is just for Di and myself: v1 cup flour – a pinch of salt – one and a half tablespoons of sugar – 2 tablespoons butter – 2 or 3 tablespoons milk. Stir dry ingredients in a bowl. Cut in butter and mix. Add enough milk to pull the dough together. Kneed gently for a few minutes. Roll out the dough, cut into a circle using a large teacup (2 large unleavened thick wafers) and mark with a sign of the Cross. Bake on a cookie sheet for 15 minutes at 400. Go to see an online recipe: https://www.food.com/recipe/unleavened-communion-bread-437607. Please also set your communion table with care having a cup of wine/juice as well as any decorations.

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