In the Midst of Darkness

“The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness did not overtake it.”

-John 1: 5

I won’t lie.  For the past month or so this passage from Scripture is all I have been able to hold onto.  First came the news of escalated conflict in Gaza, a Palestinian-controlled region in the state of Israel.  While Palestinian-Israeli tensions are, sadly, nothing new for most of us, this was all-out war, with civilians dying every single day. And wherever we turned, someone was taking a side:  Palestinian or Israeli.  And if we didn't side with one, we must be anti-Jewish or anti-Muslim. A polarizing, dark time to be sure.

Next came the death of Michael Brown, an unarmed African American teenager killed by police in his hometown of Ferguson, Missouri.  Immediately people were called to take sides, and the ugly topic of racism in this country popped up once again—a struggle that, it would seem, is very far from over.  As Michael’s family mourns his death and the officer copes with the severity of his own actions, we are left with difficult questions about police brutality and race relations in this country, while others tell us we must choose a side. Dark times, indeed.

And then came the terrifying image of James Foley, an American journalist who had been taken prisoner by the militant group known as the Islamic State, being executed.  The image was displayed all over social media and has struck fear in the hearts of people of every nation and religion throughout the world, a reminder of the horrors of religious extremism. A very, very dark time.

What are we to do with all of this bad news?  Do we try not to think about it, focusing instead on all of the good in the world?  We could do that—and heaven knows the good stuff doesn't get talked about enough—but we cannot ignore the bad.  Where is God in all of this?  What is our Christian response such news?

Which brings me to the citation from the Fourth Gospel above.  The beautiful, poetic prologue gives us a glimpse of the Word dwelling with God from before time.  It was the Word that breathed over the waters of chaos.  It was the Word that spoke through the prophets of old.  And it was the Word, the Light of the World, that came into a world of darkness.  Notice that the author does not say “the Light destroyed the darkness,” rather the Light dwells in the darkness.  It’s there, even if it can’t be seen.  God’s promise, therefore, is that the darkness will never, ever overtake the Light. 

It is this image that I have held onto these past few weeks and months.  Yes, the world can be dark and ugly and scary.  Yes, it may seem like the darkness will overtake all the good that the world has to offer.  But this one sentence reminds me that the Light cannot ever be extinguished by the darkness of this world.  The Light will still shine, no matter how faint, in the midst of the darkness.  The darkness may always be there, but the Light will never be overtaken.  This is God’s promise to us all.  This is the promise that we must hold onto when the world gets so very dark.  And as Christians we pray that the world may know Light, rather than darkness.  We do not stop praying for peace and reconciliation, for God’s Light to shine in the midst of darkness.

Yes, the world is dark and cruel.  But the Light abides in the dark and the cruel.  So no matter where you are right now, no matter how dark the world may look to you right now, know that the Light is dwelling in the midst of your darkness and that the darkness will never overtake it.  Do not ignore the darkness.  Name it.  Claim it.  Wrestle with it.  But also know that the Light abides in it, that God is still moving, still speaking, even if it is so hard for us to hear. This is Good News.  And it is worth holding onto, even in the midst of the darkness.

Finding the Sacred in Our Daily Practices

This week at Theology on Tap one of the young adults brought up manual acts, and their significance, or lack thereof, in our church experience. These manual acts include things such as crossing oneself, bowing at the passing of the cross, and kneeling during the prayers. The discussion surrounded the issue of whether or not we should be enacting these acts if we are not even sure what they mean, particularly when these practices feel foreign or even awkward. But, those of us who participated in the acts week after week (or even on a daily basis) had to admit that many of us ourselves did not know what they meant, or at least didn’t know when we first began practicing them.

As the conversation went on I had to recall when and why it was I began crossing myself, or bowing at the passing of the cross. I was quickly taken back my first seminary Eucharist where I witnessed everyone around me crossing their forehead, mouth, and heart before the reading of the Gospel. I had no idea why they were doing it, I certainly didn't feel comfortable myself taking on a manual act I was not familiar with. But, soon I found myself practicing this act week after week. But, it was not until about a year later that I truly began to understand it’s meaning, when a parishioner told me the prayer her father taught her surrounding the act. “May thy Word be embedded in my mind (cross forehead), spoken through my lips (cross lips), and remain in my heart (cross heart).” With this prayer I began to truly embody the practice, and feel it’s significance mentally, emotionally, and physically. This is not to say that it’s meaning was lost to me before, only that the significance and meaning of the practice was evolving.

As we move into the program year we are taking on the study of “Sacred Rhythms.” And, as we begin to study those sacred rhythms that can impact and improve our spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical lives I believe it is also important that we note those sacred practices that already exist in our daily lives. Practices such as manual acts can become rote and monotonous when practiced day after day, week after week, year after year. Therefore, it becomes important for us, every once in a while, to take a step back and examine those practices and acts that have shaped and formed who we are as spiritual people. They can be as simple and easy as bowing at the passing of the cross or kneeling during the prayers. Or, as elaborate and skilled as practicing an instrument, physical activity, or artistic skill. These everyday experiences and routines often hold great meaning and sacredness within our lives, sometimes we just have to step back and re-examine where we have found meaning and encountered the sacred within these practices.

The manual act I came to take on may not have held significance in the beginning, it may have just been a repeated movement, but as time went on my own faith and practices developed the act became a sacred rhythm. Many of us have sacred rhythms within our lives, and many of those rhythms can lose their beat as times moves on. It is important for us to reexamine where we have encountered the sacred in our daily practices and routines, and how it is that we can return to those sacred in those practices and routines.  As we enter into another year of busy rhythms and sacred routines let us re-identify those practices that reveal the Holy and center our souls in the midst of our daily lives.

Thank God for Invitations

     My spiritual journey from Reform Judaism to being a deacon in the Episcopal Church was a long one, filled with many detours and stopping-off places. Shortly after I was baptized at the age of 28, I began my quest for a church that I could call home. In some respects, I was a bit like Goldilocks, no where I went seemed to fit. I had been to the Catholic Church with a boy I dated in high school so I knew that wasn't where I belonged. I tried the Presbyterian Church, the Methodist Church, the Southern Baptist Church, the Freewill Baptist Church, even the Pentecostal Church. Not one of those churches amswered my needs but instead, left me feeling like the proverbial red-headed stepchild. While in Cincinnati one weekend, I attended a gathering of Messianic Jews. I did not belong there either. I was beginning to think there was no church for me. I felt saddened, dismayed and incredibly frustrated.
   
     Several months after my conversion, I ran into an old friend who asked how I was doing and what church I was attending. I told him of my situation and of the frustration I felt. I joked, was I literally going to be a wandering Jew forever looking for a church home? My friend invited me to attend his church, St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Paris, Kentucky. The only thing I knew about the Episcopal Church was that many of  its churches had red doors. I told my friend I would give it a try, though it was several months before I did so. The Sunday I finally decided to go to St. Peter's, it was the day of Bishop Wimberly's annual visit. As I sat alone in a pew and watched the procession with all the banners and crosses,  I felt as if I had stumbled upon a church celebrating Sim'chat Torah, a Jewish holiday in which all the torahs in the Temple are paraded around the sanctuary at the beginning of the service. The first reading I heard was from the Hebrew Testament, the second reading from the Psalms. The serrmon was one of love and compassion, of helping to make the lives of others' more livable. I thought I had perhaps found my new spiritual home. Over the next several months, the more I heard and learned about the Episcopal Church, the more sure I became that it was indeed where I needed to be.

     Looking back over that period of time, of deciding to follow where I was sure God was leading me, of taking that leap of faith, I realize that had it not been for my friend Dick's invitation to attend a service at St. Peter's, it is most probable that I would not be a deacon in the Episcopal Church or that I would even have walked in the door of an Episcopal Church. I might have given up my quest to find a spiritual home and returned to Temple, a place that was familiar and where I knew I had belonged. How many other people have found their spiritual home of faith within the walls of the Episcopal Church because someone invited them to attend? How many other people are still out there searching for something they cannot quite put their fingers on that would quell the restlessness in their hearts? How many people could we help find their spiritual home  if we but extended an invitation to join us for a Sunday service or a Healing service?
                                                                                                                                                                    Wherever you are my dear friend Dick, when I think of you I say "Thanks be to God."  Amen.

Called At Every Age

When I was very small, I thought that the ideal age must be 16 and I could not wait to get there.  When I turned 16, I longed to be 18, for the freedoms that would bring.  At some point, I no longer found myself wishing I was older.

Every now and then I catch myself examining my image in the mirror before and after I pull back the sides of my face and  recently I have been glancing at my hands and seeing my mother's hands – my aging mother's hands.

With an approaching birthday, I find myself thinking about the aging process and how my thoughts on age have changed throughout the years.  I always seem to prepare in one way or another for this passage of time.  When I turned 40, I bought myself a ring which symbolized a beginning for me.  My forties were a time when I really began to let go of other people's agendas for my life so that I could live the life that I was truly called to.

I have already had one birthday celebration with my Florida family. I had been there to meet my new grandson Ryan and be with the rest of the family in their new home.  On the way to the airport, my son and I talked about how all we wanted as parents was for our children to be happy.  My son is a man with a beautiful family.  How did that happen so fast?  He really is no longer my little guy who needs me to look after him.  He is a wonderful person who I can have heart to heart talks with-- I learn from him.

After returning from this trip, I went for a long walk passing the home that Mom and Dad last lived in together.  The old plantings had been ripped up and new put down.  A sparkly new porch has been built.  I look for signs of how things had been for so long.  My dad's American flag has long been taken from the kitchen window.  It seems like yesterday when I was sitting with them in the kitchen talking.  Those days are gone.

My thoughts then wandered to friends from scripture.  I almost immediately landed on Abraham and  Sarah.  They were way past their prime when they did their most creative work in the world.  Because they said yes to God's call in their older years, my life is different in 2014.  I wonder how my life would be different today if they had said no...  My point is, at every movement along our path, we are being called to something new.  It is always change and it is rarely without pain.  If we say yes however I can promise that we will be blessed.

So – whatever age you are, you will be older tomorrow.  Let's say yes to this process in life and embrace the challenges.  And like Sarah and Abraham let us say yes to God's call and do our part in paving the way for those in the future.