I’m so grateful to a friend and chaplain colleague who introduced me to Pádraig Ó Tuama in the summer of ’24. Ó Tuama’s “Being Here: Prayers for Curiosity, Justice, and Love” (Eerdmans, 2024) is a companion book, one that can travel with you through the day, the week, the month–being picked up whenever God calls you, or on a more regular basis.

Offering 31 days of prayers for the month, day 8 offers us this prayer:

“Jesus of the struggle,
You never promised ease:
yours the pained hearts; ours the pained hearts too.
You promised life in the hustle and bustle
of the everyday.
Meet us in this tussle
so that we may find energy to keep going.
Meet us with rest too. You needed it;
we do too.
Amen.”

Struggle and rest. I osolate between these two, as perhaps many of us do. Maybe even the struggle is in the rest. Getting some rest. Some down time. Some respite from the “cares and occupations of this mortal life,” as one prayer has it. Despite the memes, kitchen signs, and coffee mugs proclaiming us Christ-followers as “running on Jesus and coffee,” we still find ourselves—or maybe it’s just me—running to find oneself, and to find oneself, not to lose oneself in the running.

Pádraig Ó Tuama is one who is a gift breaking into my life, just as I need these straightforward and accessible prayers. Ever the poet, Ó Tuama takes us to the heart of the human condition, and into—if even for a moment—into the loving arms of God. God, the Divine, the Ever-Present, Ever-Alive one, who meets us in the Struggle, and embraces us in Rest. So may it be.

Today I remember and give thanks for my maternal grandparents, Pearl and Len Crawford, who taught me the gift of a hot cup of tea, a warm biscuit (translation—cookie!), and the importance of Scripture and Prayer at home.  

Traditionally, in a liturgical sense at least, Christians focus their attention on ancestors in November on the Feast of All Saints’. It’s a time to remember and give thanks that we are all saints, not just those ones who are officially recognized (such as St. Claire and St. Francis). 

However, this Easter Monday, I feel a call to recollect and bring into the present time my ancestors who I see no longer, but—through faith—believe are always present with me through the resurrection of the dead.

This trust, this promise, this hope, was for Christ—as it can be for us—a driving force toward death and beyond. A longing, a beckoning forth. It is, in Hawaiian, Imua—“forward,” not necessary in a linear, time-bound way—but in a manner which finds ourselves accompanied by family and friends beyond the confines of the present now.

Pearl and Len will be recalled today as I heat the pre-heat the teacup, I pour the water from the electric kettle (translation—jug!), gently bring the warmth to my mouth, and savor the complex flavors of the tea (today it’s “Darjeeling Sungma Summer” with its rich golden color and distinctive, yet subtle hints of grape and grassiness). 

And these beloved ancestors will be with me throughout the 50 Days of Easter (yes, 50 days!) as we hear from the Acts of the Apostles, read from the Revelation to John the Divine, and as we continue to give thanks for the liberating acts of our Creator God in Jesus Christ our Lord.     

A happy and life-giving Easter to you all!

Chris+

Back in 2014, as I prepared to transition out of ministry as an Australian vicar in my hometown of Brisbane, a member of the parish gave me a small book that’s made an indelible mark on life ever since.

Saint John of the Cross for Every Day is edited by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD. It contains brief, sentence or two, reflections for every day of the calendar year. Today, the 4th Sunday in Lent, I took a look at the small volume.

As I took it from its home in my car’s glove compartment, I turned to (what I thought was) the nominated reflection for the day–a quote from St. John:

“They are scandalized by the cross, in which spiritual delights are found.” [1]

Serendipitously, I had turned to April 27 rather than March 27. As these things sometimes go, God’s Spirit worked in and through this small oversight.

“They are scandalized by the cross, in which spiritual delights are found.” [1]

I wondered, how am I scandalized by the passion and death of the human said, by Christians, to be God.

In this–a human who dared to claim Divinity–is a scandal in itself. My Jewish and Muslim beloved in humanity may not feel the same. Jesus may be a prophet, a godly one, one full of wisdom. But the Divine life fully becoming a 1st-century human?

However, I then thought of my beloved friends in humanity who follow the various ways of Hinduism. For them, the Divine is made human in Vishnu, who also embodies the transcendent Higher Power as a fish, a turtle, and a pig. [2]

Here, God as Creator meets God’s Creation meets God’s incarnate (made human) one.

Could God give over every power, every privilege, every honor, everything that separates divinity and humanity?

Would God give over everything that separates the Creator from that which is Created?

This is the scandal of the cross: that God would be neglected, abused, and killed by humans hungry for power and position.

This is the mystery of the cross: that God would give up, put aside, and remove everything that keeps us from the fullness of Divine love.

During this Lent, this day, my hope and prayer are that I don’t do the same to God in those committed to my care;

>>> that we all can set aside that violence and rivalry and live in peace, harmony, love, and compassion with all creation and all living beings.

[1] Saint John of the Cross for Every Day, edited by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD. (Paulist Press, New York/Mahwah, 2007), p. 29.

[2] Vishnu, BBC Religion, 2009, https://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/hinduism/deities/vishnu.shtml (Accessed March 27, 2022)

Yesterday’s Gospel featured the first of Jesus’ “signs” or miracles. Jesus turns 120+ gallons of water into wine! Here, Jesus attends a wedding, respects the customs of the day, tries not to get involved, yet in the end does anyway. Yet, Jesus doesn’t want to draw attention to himself (and, perhaps to draw attention to the fact that those in charge of providing the hospitality have “failed” in their societal duty to keep the party going!)

Raymond E. Brown, in his Doubleday commentary of John, describes how Jesus has been revealed, so far, in John’s Gospel. Jesus has been described as the “light in the darkness,” the “Lamb of God,” the “pre-existent one,” the “one on whom the Spirit descends and rests.” Now, in John 2.1-11, we are given an Epiphany, a revelation, of Jesus as the generous, hospitable one. Jesus provides 120+ gallons of the finest wine. In this giving, in this generosity, in this outpouring of welcome, Jesus makes sure that the joy of the party keeps going for the full, customary week.

With God in Christ, the Scripture attests, our joy is always complete!

Delighting in our gifts and perceiving the beauty in other human beings (and indeed in all creation!) may be just what we need right now as a long 2020 starts to draw to a close.

All of this might be easier if we pay heed to our reading from 1 Thessalonians this weekend. This letter is written in the context of end-time waiting, the period between resurrection and fulfillment. Here, Paul seeks to provide comfort and assurance to the early church as they struggle to discern the best way to use all that God has given them. These members of the Body of Christ in Thessalonica are reminded that they are all “children of the day,” baptized sisters and brothers together. They are those who have collectively died to darkness in the waters of life, and now have the chance to live into a life of “faith and love,” “hope,” and “salvation.” Reassured that God does not desire anger for them, they are encouraged to “keep awake and be sober” (echoing the final words of last week’s apocalyptic Gospel passage).

The Thessalonians are beckoned to continue in their good work of encouraging and building up each other in the faith. And they are not to be anxious. Because, for them, the new life of liberation has already begun. Nothing can come upon them “like a thief.” Baptism has confirmed their gifts and talents for the sake of the Good News.

Thomas H. Schattauer writes about the essential link between mission and worship in the introductory chapter of Inside Out: Worship in an Age of Mission. Schattauer reminds us that the “visible act of assembly” enacts and signifies the “movement of God for the life of the world.” That is, what we do in our beautiful worship spaces empowers us to focus on “God’s mission toward the world.” Our liturgy and worship, then, become the engine for us to witness, teach, and serve the world, rather than our worship simply being a response to what we experience of the world. Rodney Clapp puts it another way. “Far from being a retreat from the real world, worship enables Christians to see what the real world is and equips them to live in it.”

I’ve been thankful, these past weeks and months, of the way the online worship of the Washington National Cathedral has embodied this. Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde and Dean Randy Hollerith have provided a real-life and digital space which is open and hospitable. The excellence in music, the carefully crafted intercessions, and the present-moment preaching have all spoken to the lively activity of God during these challenging times.

The National Cathedral and its witness is a visible reminder of how important places of public worship are, even in the midst of Coronavirus restrictions. The Cathedral has truly embodied a “movement of God for the life of the world” and has encouraged me to continue my work and ministry for the sake of all living beings. This worship has not been an escape, but a recharge. Not an avoidance tactic. But a roadmap back into daily life itself.

The latest offering from the National Cathedral for “Healing, Unity and Hope after an Election.”

Reflecting on last week’s Epistle reading, Philippians 3:4b-14, Paul seems to say to us — we may need to start from the beginning again. We may need to build a whole new identity. Put everything aside. That’s what Paul speaks about doing when talking about moving away from his old life.

There’s going to be that challenge in the church and in the world as well after the pandemic subsides. And, after the political conflict (in the U.S.) of our present time, things start to look differently too. There’s the sense that there will need to be a rebuild of civility and common life together. Indeed, we will have losses, but we can be encouraged by Paul who sees this as an opportunity to make something new — to find a new path.

Paul’s journey is driven by the passion to “know Christ and the power of his resurrection” — I wonder whether his passion to share in Christ’s sufferings is, for Paul, the only way that he knows how to understand the mind of Christ — the way in which we long to understand our spouse, or sibling, or friend.

Surely, for those we care for, want to know what they go through — we want to be with them, somehow, in their suffering. We want to walk through that suffering with and come to a place of redemption and light.

The Way of Jesus challenges us to something even harder: to yearn to be with the suffering of those who are different from us, those we don’t understand, those we even feel disturbed or threatened by. To be with the suffering of our “enemies” (in Jesus’s words), is that perhaps the ultimate challenge of our times?

In this time of awakening, this time of reflection within our nation and our national church, I believe we do well to listen to the voices which have been given voice throughout the U.S. Two such leaders are Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde of the Diocese of Washington and Bishop Jennifer Baskerville-Burrows of the Diocese of Indianapolis.

In a sermon preached in the National Cathedral on Trinity Sunday, June 7, 2020, Bishop Mariann spoke of this moment as a “crucible moment.” Noting that a ‘crucible’ points to a severe test or trial, Edgar Budde reminded us of the power of different elements interacting under pressure to test and transform.

Bishop Mariann helpfully pointed us to the witness of the 1st creation story in Genesis 1:1-2:4a. “Creation is not a one time event,” Edgar Budde reminds us. God is always present. Perhaps this is a “Kairos” moment, a moment of opportunity for a world “crying out for change.”

Why the need for change? Bishop Jennifer recently gave a reflection on a Zoom meeting with bishops and canons from across the Episcopal Church. Offering her personal family story of growing up black on Staten Island, Bishop Jennifer said: “We were…living in a segregated space,” Baskerville-Burrows recounts. “White kids took the yellow school buses to our junior high school, and black and brown kids mostly took the city bus or walked the seven blocks to school.”

Have things shifted significantly? That’s questionable. “I’ve had police in my predominately white neighborhood run my plates. Yes, I’ve already had “the talk” with my nine-year-old black son about what to do if approached by the police and how he can’t play with water pistols like his white friends. Here’s the thing, every black and brown person in this country, on this call, in our congregations, has stories like these.”

Baskerville-Burrows encourages these stories to be told to a cross-section of society. It’s important that “the stories of racial trauma” are told now, now that people are being empowered to change. Bishop Jennifer commends “hope and challenge” as “two sides of the same coin.” It’s not going to be easy, but this “gospel work” of”changing policies embedded in racist structures” is going to be life-transforming work for our nation and the world.

“…I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.” Exodus 19.4b

There they are, the people of God, camped “in front of the mountain.” We imagine the social and emotional exhaustion of a people who have been journeying in the wilderness. We imagine the disconnection and isolation of being thrust into a new and unknown situation.

God promises, as God always does, that there is purpose and meaning in all of this. I have done this. I delivered you out of Egypt. “I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.”

This relational deliverance doesn’t come in a vacuum. For years, the people of God have been building deeper and deeper relational layers with the Divine. They have been discovering their unique gifts within the larger creation framework of God’s life. They have been uncovering what it means to be God’s people and for God to be with them.

Being lifted on eagles’ wings may be a type of deliverance, but it’s not necessarily fun or without danger. We look down and, all of a sudden, realize how far away the ground is. We look up, and realize how far we still have to travel. Yet, the warmth of those wings, and the power that they possess, means that we can trust in them, even if we are scared.

May God bear the world upon God’s wings in this time of unrest and uncertainty.