The 'Blessing' of the Holy Spirit

This is Pentecost Sunday. The Lesson reading during last evening's service was from Acts 2:1-21. It relates the coming of the Holy Spirit to those gathered. and says in part: "All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability." And later in this passage the author references ancient Hebrew writings that proclaim, "God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams." This sounds like an idyllic way to live, doesn't it...knowing the future, seeing visions, dreaming dreams? Yet, Mary's homily put a different face on this blessing of the Holy Spirit. In a voice thickened with emotion, she told us of her last conversation with Father Samuel Peni, our friend and visitor from the Sudan, as they breakfasted before he and his wife left for their long trip home. Fr. Samuel is blessed by the Spirit; God has led him by the Spirit to speak out for peace and reconciliation within his war-torn homeland, the Sudan. He speaks to bring an end to the violence, the killings, the fear there and to reconcile all within God's love. And as Mary said, this has made him a 'marked man.' His life will be in danger every moment when he returns home. He could be killed by enemies who don't embrace his mission of peace. It's hard to imagine what life would be like when a walk home from church or out to your farm fields could be filled with the real possibility of death, just because you have been blessed by the Spirit with a vision of peace. For me today, it's easy to celebrate Pentecost and God's outpouring of the Spirit to his people. For Fr. Peni who has also received this gift from God, the joy of Pentecost has an entirely different meaning.

For a Friend

I learned this week that an old friend has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and given 6 months to live. This is not a person with whom I've had a close friendship, but still this news felt like a blow to my very center. My thoughts and prayers go out to him and his family; my thoughts and prayers also go within my soul. Life is so very short. There isn't enough time ever to let yourself be sad or miserable. Why does it take this kind of devastating news to remember that? For this friend, a bit of a blessing from my favorite, John O'Donohue's, To Bless This Space Between Us...

"Now is the time of dark invitation
Beyond a frontier you did not expect,
Abruptly your old life seems distant....

When the reverberations of shock subside in you,
May grace come to restore you to balance.
May it shape a new space in your heart
To embrace this illness as a teacher
Who has come to open your life to new worlds...

May you be granted the courage and vision
To work through passivity and self-pity,
To see the beauty you can harvest
From the riches of this dark invitation..."

A Forgotten Saint

This is Sainte Tulle, patron saint of Cucuron, a tiny village nestled deep in Provence. She reigns over l'eglise Notre-Dame-de-Beaulieu, the church of our Lady of the beautiful place. According to legend, Sainte Tulle protected the village from the plague of 1720; according to Catholic Online, she doesn't exist as a saint. Forgotten by the world, Ste. Tulle is remembered only by a handful of people who owe the existence of their village to her divine intercession. Tonight's homily referenced another saint, also forgotten. Elizabeth challenged us with these verses from Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 which say, in part..."and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles." Have you ever heard of Matthias? Me neither. I had a moment of guilt, maybe I slept through that Sunday School lesson? But then I noticed that no one else in the congregation knew who Matthias was either. He replaced Judas as the twelfth apostle, yet he is never mentioned again in the New Testament and most Christians have never heard of him. Like Ste. Tulle, his name lies moldering in the ancient history of the church. Does that make him unimportant though? Absolutely not. As Elizabeth explained, he touched lives with his ministry of the Good News of Christ just as Ste. Tulle touched the lives of the villagers of Cucuron. There may well be people alive today who are Christians because of each of these forgotten saints. And Elizabeth's point was this: each of us touches others with our ministry of the Good News. An act of loving-kindness, a moment of forgiveness, a smile of welcome, a simple "I'll remember you in my prayers" may be the brief spark of God's grace that turns a life around or opens a heart to God. No one will remember, no one may even know, but God does. He works through all of us 'forgotten saints' to spread love in His world.

My God

"I come to you this morning with praise & song
Praise for the beauty of Creation,
Praise for peace, reconciliation, harmony,
Praise for your work in the world.
I sing your praise in hymn, in songs of the people,
in great orchestral composition.
All music sings praise to God."



Excerpt from my poem, My God, written 3/08

My Ministry

I was startled when Mary spoke to me about this blog, Dona Nobis Pacem, and referred to it as 'my ministry.' I mumbled something about 'it's just some thoughts I have about things on my mind,' letting my voice trail off into that no-man's land of 'let's not talk about this...it makes me uncomfortable.' We didn't discuss it any further, but I've been thinking about it ever since. Do I have a 'ministry?' It's kind of like asking 'am I a Christian?' I don't have a good answer for either. Saying yes to either question would take 'way more self-confidence than I have right now. I used to refer to myself as a 'baby Christian,' one just learning, in Christian infancy. I'm much too old to be a baby anything, so I gave up that terminology. I'm still learning and exploring though, and I know I've found where I need to be in the Episcopal Church. So what about this ministry issue? It sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it? After all, who am I to minister? I'm a seeker, a learner, a sponge for knowledge, not someone who has answers for others. I'm currently reading a newly-published book called "Your Faith Your Life: An Invitation to the Episcopal Church." As I was reading the chapter on identifying what God is calling me to do, I came across this startling sentence: "The Episcopal Church recognizes all baptized people as ministers of God's kingdom...everyone who's been baptized shares a common ministry: representing Christ and his church." It goes on to say that 99% of God's people are called to this important lay ministry. So maybe sharing my thoughts, my questions and my uncertainties is a form of ministry. I bring God to your attention when you read this blog; maybe that's exactly what He wants for both of us today.

Me, God, and the Other

The readings from last evening's service with the Bishop were from Acts and 1 John. The Acts verses tell the story of Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch with whom Philip shares the good news of Christ. 1 John repeats words from other places in the New Testament which instruct us to love others as God loves us. I see a common thread in these two very different passages, one that enlightens my understanding of how to be God's child. The Ethiopian is reading Isaiah and Philip asks him this simple question: "Do you understand what you are reading?" And the Ethiopian answers: "How can I, unless someone guides me?" (Acts 8:30-31) Discernment requires an Other. In 1 John the theme of loving others is re-iterated over and over: "...let us love one another....we also ought to love one another....he who loves God should love his brother also." (1 John 4:7-21) Love requires not only God, but an Other. In both passages, the Other is vital to abiding with God...Others who might instruct us, Others whom we are instructed to love. To me, this says that a relationship between just me and God is incomplete; only when Other is included do I live as God's child. This is why my community of faith is so important to me, why it is vital to share stories with the Others in my life to learn from each other, to support the other in life's struggles. Even in the silence of corporate prayer, my connection with the Others around me strengthens my connection to God. The Other is why God calls His children into service in the world. Here is what God says to me: a life of love is among us, not between us...it is me, God and the Other.

Angel of Wildness

Today I celebrated the Angel of Abundance at Musings from Red Bell Farm. Here I'd like to celebrate the Angel of Wildness. My spirit yearns for wildness just as it yearns for community and home. I find God in all these places. This is part of a blessing from John O'Donohue's, To Bless the Space Between Us.

"May the Angel of Wildness disturb the places

Where your life is domesticated and safe,

Take you to the territories of true otherness

Where all that is awkward in you

Can fall into its own rhythm."

No Pressure, Right?

Just a quick update to whine a bit. I'm the chosen one for this Saturday's 5pm service at church. Not only am I helping serve the Holy Eucharist, I'm also the lector/litanist which means I'm reading everything except the Gospel lesson. So what's the pressure? I've done all these things before....Oh, did I forget to mention that the Bishop Alan Scarfe is the celebrant for this service??? No pressure here, right?