As I Have Loved You: Service and Humility

April 9, 2015 at 9:17 am

Ian, Courtney, and I preached at the Maundy Thursday service last week!

Kasey-Intro

Tonight, on this Holy Thursday, as we prepare for the footwashing and the sacrament of communion, we take a moment to reflect on the radical image of service and humility presented in our Gospel reading. When compared with the stark image of crucifixion on Good Friday and the triumphant cacophany of Easter, the humbler Maundy Thursday scene of meal and footwashing can be easily overlooked, but it holds radical promises of grace and forgiveness and it challenges us, calling us to lives of service and love for all people.

 

Courtney:

Imagine for a second, President Obama stripping off his suit and wrapping a towel around his waist to get down on his knees to wash the feet of a homeless person on the streets of Washington DC, my home town. That would be CRAY-CRAY right?  And yet, here we have this narration from the Gospel of John describing Jesus doing essentially just that. Jesus, particularly to the disciples, held this mass position of authority, even higher than say our President.  The disciples Could tell that clearly this man was called by God. No wonder they totally freaked out when Jesus started to wash their feet!  The author of John tells us that Jesus knew who he was and Whose he was.  In the Greek the role that Jesus put on is that of a slave, and slaves were not considered people, they were thought of as objects or things that people owned.  So here we have Jesus, the epitome of authority for us as Christians, literally objectifying himself as the lowliest of the low, the scum, the rejected. WHAT? Why would he ever do such a thing?

To start this whole thing off, Jesus stands up from the table, goes and removes his Himatian or his robes, and wrapped a towel around him.  In the culture of the time, this was a BIG DEAL.  There were cultural rules about slaves and servants and Jesus just takes those rules and goes WHOOSHT and washes the feet of his disciples.  Jesus is teaching here.  Here Jesus Exemplifies Grace.

What is grace?  Grace is what happens on the cross.  Grace is the unconditional love that we so often hear about in church.  Grace is how we can all be forgiven no matter who you are, what you have done, what your status us, what what you have craved, lusted for, acted through, no matter what your story is you are loved and forgiven.  That radical thing that allows us to call ourselves children of God no matter what!  That is grace.

Jesus is lessening himself to exemplify a grace that reaches out and touches all levels.  He is teaching us that the amazing forgiving cleansing power of the entire passion story, from footwashing to the foot of the cross to the foot of the empty tomb, is for everyone, not just the people we might assume.

So Jesus did this thing.  The savior of all the world, placed himself in the lowliest position.  What do we do with that?  Well Jesus gave us this awesome example of how to go out and exemplify that same grace that was shown to us!  If we call ourselves followers of Christ I dare say that we are obligated to show the rest of the world that same mind blowing radical incredible thing called grace!  You might be thinking “That is great and all, but I am not Jesus, or Obama, so…..what do I do? What does that mean for me?”

Largely it means putting ourselves in the places of others, being empathetic, serving people in a variety of ways, and giving of our prayers and our compassion to others.  Humility can look like any number of things, and it’s really difficult to explain.  Some of the best examples of people acting with humility nobody knows about.  Why?  People acting in humility by definition aren’t doing it for the attention.

For some people feeding the homeless, or giving to charities, or volunteering at a soup kitchen are really meaningful ways to spread God’s love and grace.  Those are all wonderful things and I do not by any means want to deter people from doing those things.  I do want to challenge us to think about our motivations for giving and our attitude in service.  Sometimes we serve so we can make ourselves feel better. We say things like“Well I’ve been volunteering at this soup kitchen for X number of years and blah blah blah” or “Last week I gave half my sandwich that I had just gotten from that fancy deli to a homeless person.”  Those are great things yes, but I think the spirit in which we serve is just as important as the service we do. Do we really serve in humility?  Our actions and our attitudes in service need to embody our theology that we are all equally loved by God and that we are all equally offered God’s grace. If we are high and mighty about our so-called good deeds, then we aren’t really being humble.   If we only serve as Christians because we think we’re supposed to take care of those lesser than us, we have missed something critical that Jesus is showing us.  When we serve others it should be out of compassion, and out of  Christian equality.  If we are all the equal in the eyes of God, and in the eyes of Grace then our hearts must be humbled when we serve.

It is critical to talk about something else that happens in the story.  Simon Peter like freaks out and is all “NO LORD YOU CAN’T WASH MY FEET!”  Jesus uses this moment to teach. Even from the ground, Jesus maintains Who he is and Whose he is.  Sometimes when we talk about humility it gets complicated.  We are not called to humble ourselves to the point of losing the worth that God has instilled within us.  We are called to humble ourselves remembering that we are all valued loved Children of God no exceptions.  It can be hard to balance understanding compassion for others with remembering that that same compassion applies to you as well.  This is not a call to self-deprecation or harm, but rather a call of empowerment to all people. Jesus on his knees, with a towel around his waist, holds true to his call from the Lord, and teaches the disciples about humility, service, and compassion, and washes simon peter’s feet.

This example of both calling and humility reminds me a bit of a word I grew up hearing. All the time at my home church in Southern Maryland we heard the word witness.  We are called as Christians to be a witness!  Well HOLD UP!  What does “witness” mean?  I know this word has like five thousand different meanings.  What I mean by witness is not standing on a corner with a poster screaming “repent now for the rapture is upon us”  True story that was screamed at my friend at Government center one time. 🙂 I don’t even just mean standing up in front of the church telling the story of how God has moved and transformed your life.

I mean witnessing the way Jesus witnesses to his disciples.  By getting down and acting out what he believes in his heart.  From the inside out we are called to emulate or act as Christ did, not just here, not just when we see a homeless person,  but at all times.  We are called to know and answer our calling to serve the Lord.  We do this by remembering that God’s grace is for everyone, and that God’s love is for all the people; the highest of the high and the lowest of the low.  That grace and and all encompassing love my friends, is indeed beautifully humbling.

 

Ian:

The act of footwashing in the Gospels ultimately affirms the grace and unconditional love for us all that Courtney just talked about. When Christ humbled himself to wash the feet of his disciples, he was working with the lowest part of them. Jesus constantly ministered to the lower parts and outcasts of society. His closest disciples were mostly simple fishermen, and he tended to the sick and to the lepers, who were considered ritually unclean. In doing so, Jesus exposed himself frequently to the dirt and filth that tie all of us down to our humanity. He encountered people worn down by insecurity, poverty, hunger, resentment, grief, or despair, and he probably saw their darkest parts. But he forgave and healed them all the same, recognizing that their sins had been taken away. Christ’s ministry demonstrated the grace and love he must have shown these people, and washing the feet of his disciples was an extension of that ministry. For us, then, washing another person’s feet is an act of love, an act that acknowledges their sins are forgiven and affirms the forgiveness of our own sins as well.

Even though footwashing at the Last Supper only appears in the gospel of John, this is not its first occurrence in the Gospels. In the opening verses of chapter 12, Mary anointed Jesus’ feet with perfume when he ate at the house of Lazarus in Bethany. The gospel of Luke relates a similar story:

 

“One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment.”

 

In these two accounts, a woman washes Jesus’ feet and dries them. Although the details of the stories differ from today’s gospel reading, it is important to note that Jesus is not the one who performs the footwashing. Instead, he himself is washed. Nevertheless, the act of washing or anointing is common to all three passages. The fact that both women and Christ chose to wash feet, of all parts of the body, also bears significance.

Jesus told Peter, “One who has washed does not need to bathe, except for the feet, for he is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” When he said this, he might have meant only the feet needed to be washed.  But it seems especially odd that he would say this after washing the feet of some of his disciples. But Jesus may be referring to moral cleanliness instead of physical cleanliness, a clean conscience instead of a clean body. Christ knew that Judas would betray him, yet he still bends down to wash his feet. Footwashing therefore becomes more than an act of physical cleaning; it serves as an act of unconditional love. Jesus loved his disciples to the end while cleansing their feet, even the one whom he knew would betray him. From that love, grace and forgiveness is possible, for their sins as well as ours. The love apparent in footwashing also emerges in the passage from Luke. After the woman bathes, dries, and anoints Jesus, he says that her many sins have been forgiven, “as great as her love as shown” through her actions (Luke 7:47). He notices that she washed his feet out of love, and because of that love he forgave her sins.

In both the passage from Luke and in today’s gospel reading, the acts of footwashing are met with resistance and rejection. When the woman began weeping and anointing Jesus with oil, the pharisee objected, noting that she was a sinner. But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” The pharisee did not show the same humility and love to him as the woman did. The love imbued in her footwashing was necessary to receive forgiveness. When Jesus approached Peter to wash his feet, on the other hand, Peter initially objected as well. He refused to see his teacher humble himself before him by assuming the role of a servant. But Christ responded by saying that unless he washed his disciple, Peter could have no share with him. Perhaps he meant that they could not eat together, since the practice at the time was to wash one’s feet before a meal. It seems more likely, though, that Peter needed to be washed by Christ to have a share in Christ’s ministry. Part of that ministry involves showing unconditional love for others by washing their feet, regardless of the dirt, dust, and grime that might be seen. This is slightly different from the gospel of Luke, where the woman washes Jesus’ feet, and she is ultimately granted forgiveness for it. Here, Jesus cleanses the feet of his disciples so that they may be forgiven, and so that they could forgive others. I believe that is what Christ meant when he tells his disciples to wash one another’s feet, and to love one another as he had loved them (John 13: 14, 34).

Christ may not have meant that the disciples should immediately go out and wash people’s feet. Even today, if you went outside, with a basin in one hand and a towel in the other, and tried washing the feet of passersby, you would probably have very mixed success. This might be due to the close-toed shoes and boots that many wear in this season, but I digress. While foot-washing is an act of service, it is the spiritual washing inherent in it that matters more. As John Wesley notes, Christ teaches the disciples the notion of humble love, to confer inward purity upon them. He asks them “in every possible way to assist each other in attaining that purity. And to wash each other’s feet by performing all sorts of good offices to each other, even those of the lowest kind, when opportunity serves and the necessity of any calls for them.” (John Wesley’s Commentary on the Bible 466).

By figuratively or physically washing another person’s feet, we expose ourselves to the dust and the dirt of our humanity. We may encounter people at their lowest point, people whose lives and homes have been shattered. We may meet people whose suffering is almost unbearable to watch, let alone feel. The people whose feet we wash, perhaps unknowingly, may be our friends, our family, or strangers we have met only briefly. And in turn, those who love us, even when we cannot recognize it, may wash our own feet. They see our imperfections, our insecurities, and our doubts, but rather than recoil from them, they slowly rinse them out. Not with water, but with the same spirit of love and forgiveness that Jesus had at the Last Supper. It is for that reason, I think, that Christ washed his disciple’s feet, and died for us shortly afterward. He died out of love, not only to forgive us for our sins, but so that we could love one another and recognize that forgiveness in others as well.

Kasey:

The love and forgiveness present in this act of footwashing are part of Jesus’ complete upending of hierarchies as he challenges the disciples with a call to serve. We tend to imagine the footwashing as a beautiful scene of Jesus caring for his disciples in a symbolic act of forgiveness. But it was also probably awkward. From Peter’s response, I assume all of the disciples were not at all comfortable with the idea of their respected Teacher getting down on his knees and acting like a slave. Faces frozen, embarrassment flushing into their cheeks, a tense silence filling the room as Jesus washes their feet, which, with twelve people, would probably have felt like an eternity. And then, as a sense of relief fills them when they see Jesus put his robe back on and rejoin them at the table, Jesus looks at all of them and says, “if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” In other words, surprise! You get to be slaves too!

Instead of the instant status upgrade the disciples probably expected from their association with Jesus, they are instead called to take the place of the lowest and most vulnerable in society. Needless to say, I can only imagine that the disciples spent a lot of their time wondering what in the world they had gotten themselves into when they dropped everything to follow this crazy rabbi who never fit the typical ‘savior’ mold.

And then he would command them to love one another, just as he loved them. And today, as modern day disciples, we are called to do the same. We are called to follow Jesus’ example of love and to serve one another. As a church, it is so easy to get caught up in serving others far outside of ourselves, sending money to countries on the other side of the globe and forgetting to serve the people standing right next to us. But those people are important too.

We are called to serve the college student who doesn’t know where they stand in relation to the church, we are called to serve the retiree who spends all their time serving others and never takes care of themself, we are called to serve the person who dresses up for church to hide their own insecurities, we are called to serve the pastors who minister to us, the ushers who guide us, the readers who enlighten us, the musicians who fill us, the greeters who welcome us, the sacristans who prepare the way. We are called to serve each other, to love each other as Jesus loved. It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. It can be as simple as getting to know the person next to us or across the room, asking ‘how is it with your soul?’, letting someone know that they matter and that there is a community praying for and supporting them—letting them know that they are loved.

But this love does not have to stop at the church doors. In the landmark World Council of Churches document “Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry,” it reads, “In a broken world, God calls the whole of humanity to become God’s people…Jesus’ life of service, his death and resurrection, are the foundation of a new community which is built up continually by the good news of the Gospel…” These are powerful words. If “the whole of humanity” is called to be God’s people, then regardless of whether they answer that call, they also are included in Jesus’ command to love and serve each other.

The document continues, “the Holy Spirit bestows on the community diverse and complementary gifts. These are for the common good of the whole people and are manifested in acts of service within the community and to the world.” Therefore, we are called to wash the feet of the people within this community of faith, but we are also called to bring that radical notion of service and love outside these walls and into the world.

We are called to serve the 700 homeless folks who were left without access to shelter when the bridge to Boston’s Long Island was abruptly closed in October. We can serve by volunteering to provide meals and compassion at day-time shelters in Old South and Emmanuel Churches or by donating needed items through Boston Warm’s Amazon gift registry.

We are called to serve students drowning in the doldrums of the semester who can’t see past looming deadlines and narrow dorm room walls. We can offer words of encouragement, and prayers, or gifts of hot tea and ice cream when needed.

We are called to serve the people next to us on the bus who don’t know if they’ll be able to put dinner on the table for their kids. We can volunteer at our local food bank or we can work with organizations such as the Student Food Rescue here on campus to bring excess food from bakeries and grocery stores to people that need it.

We are called to serve the broken and the whole, the forgotten and the exposed, the taken-for granted.

And it’s not going to be easy—it’s going to be uncomfortable and dirty and awkward and we’re going to wonder what in the world we’ve gotten ourselves into. Because we are also called to serve the T operators who close the doors just before we get there, and that guy in the car behind us who won’t lay off his horn. We are called to serve the coworker who seems to only have bad things to say about us and the family member we haven’t spoken to for years. We are called to encounter the world with an attitude of grace and love no matter what it throws back at us. Because there is no one in this broken world who isn’t in need of healing—there is no one who doesn’t need someone to drop everything, get down on their knees, and lovingly wipe the dirt of this world from their weary feet. It may not be perfect. It might be uncomfortable and awkward and we might be filled with relief as soon as it’s over. But it’s a start on this radical journey of service as we strive to love each other as Jesus loved–to the end. Amen.

 

By kmshultz | Posted in Courtney, Ian, Kasey | Comments (0)

The Great Vigil of Easter: a Dialogue Blog

April 8, 2015 at 1:40 pm

Jaimie: After a little debate and the always alluring promise of post-church falafel, Courtney and I decided to attend the Easter Vigil hosted by The Crossing at St. John the Evangelist Church. The Easter Vigil is a service within the liturgical journey of Holy Week that pauses between the death and despair of Good Friday and the Joy and resurrection of Easter. Candles are lit. Hymns are sung. Communion is taken. Faith is proclaimed. And important stories from the Bible are told. This Great Vigil of Easter brought together Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, and Unitarian Universalists in a service of worship and connection unlike any I’d previously experienced. Both Courtney and I were incredibly moved by this experience. We decided to collaborate on a joint “dialogue blog” in order to capture the beauty of the service and explore our very different experiences of this kind of worship.

Courtney: As Jaimie mentioned, the Vigil brought together people from a vast array of Congregations, and Traditions.  Methodists, Lutherans, Unitarian Universalists, Episcopalians etc.  Naming the traditions does not begin to express the beauty of the diversity present in that room that night.  A vast array of ages and walks of life were represented in both the congregation as well as the clergy.  For me the greatest moment was Communion.  All of these people around the Altar, serving each other, collectively involved in the sacrament.  In my immediate area during the Feast there were a number of older ladies who looked like the Church ladies I grew up with.  There was an older couple holding hands like newlyweds next to a lesbian couple looking equally as in love.  There was a homeless woman.  There were a few members of the Trans community and people of all different colors and shapes and sizes. And an old lady with pink hair, which as a wearer of the colored hair myself, I very much adored.  All labels aside, standing in the midst of the most beautifully diverse group of people I had ever encountered, I was struck with joy.  I was overcome and moved to tears.  In that moment I saw God and his Kingdom.  In that moment I experienced Grace.  These people, from all stretches of life, sharing in God’s holy feast, not just sharing, but serving each other, reaching out, and being in communion and community with one another, it was truly magnificent to behold.

Jaimie: Courtney spoke about the inspiring diversity present at this service. I firmly believe that if we are going to champion diversity and ecumenism, then we needed to provide worship that feeds a diverse, multi-faceted community. As is customary with Easter Vigils this service, featured a reading of ten Bible stories. To be perfectly honest, I was not looking forward to this part. I figured I would quietly and politely wait through the readings, hoping for a hymn or two to break up the monotony. What I found instead were some of the most innovative, beautiful and moving recounts of the Bible that I’d ever heard. (On a side note, I should seriously stop approaching worship services with negative expectations, because I am almost always proven wrong.)

In an effort to be more inclusive, or to breathe some new life into an ancient traditional service, The Crossing brought in creative readings of the Gospel. The Binding of Isaac, was told from the first person perspective of Isaac. The horror he felt, as the father he loved and trusted raised the knife above him was palpable. And then the melancholic relief when the ram was sacrificed instead, was punctuated by Isaac finding kinship and unity with that animal. The Valley of Dry Bones was told through song by a quartet of clergy folk. The Annunciation Mary brought together the voices of three young women, speaking three different languages. Each of these old stories were made new again in their innovative retelling. But, nothing hit me quite like the retelling of the Crucifixion.

“Hands Up!” she said. “Don’t Shoot” we responded. Instead of the traditional crucifixion story, one of the members of the Crossing slammed a poem about systemic racism, police brutality and her own experiences of privilege as a white person and oppression as a queer identified person. Her poem captured the anger and the pain over the treatment of brown bodied people in our country. I was moved to tears by the honesty and raw emotion of this piece. The parallel between the death of Jesus and the death of young black men like Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and so many more at the hands of the authorities, made me so angry. How can we have let this pattern continue for 2000 years? I’m furious, but I’m thankful for this new way to experience the story. This reading of the Crucifixion made the story personal and real in a way that I’ve never felt before. It was sobering though, because at least in the Christian narrative Easter brings Jesus’ victory over death. I’m searching for a victory over the systematic racism and oppression that continues to permit the senseless murder of young people of color. I’m committed to that goal, but unlike Easter, this victory seems to be a long way off. My heart broke again listening to this retelling of the Crucifixion, but it also moved me to fury and to action, in a way I did not expect.

The Crossing’s creative re-imagining and retelling of the Biblical story brought new life and new emotion to these ancient stories. This made the vigil engaging and transformative for the diverse crowd present.

Courtney: I Grew up in a mostly Methodist world.  I had done some exploring into the rest of the Mainline Protestant churches as I got in to my later years of high school and early in College.  Beyond that, until I got to New England, I had not had much ecumenical exposure.  The conglomeration of liturgies, practices, expressions, and stories at the Easter Vigil was breath taking.  I know Paul in Galatians 3:28 says “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (NRSV) I had never experienced that verse, I had never seen what that might have looked like, that is until Saturday Night.  I love my tradition, and there are many things about the United Methodist church that make me Happy.  There were a number of things that made me uncomfortable about the service.  Incense is weird, and it made me want to leave a few times as an asthmatic it made me cough.  Having all of the saints around me, and the giant crucifix hanging of the ceiling also made me uneasy.  Having said that, I have learned that that uncomfortability is okay, and helps me grow in my own journey with God.  The Service was intense, and emotional, and weird, and unexpected.  I can not think of an experience that more represents the way the disciples must have felt following this crazy, weird, unexpected Rabbi around.

Jaimie: As a Unitarian Universalist I really value inter-religious engagement. After attending a beautiful Passover Seder on Friday, I was so pleased to participate in the Easter Vigil. The commitment to ecumenism that Courtney mentioned was clear, in the ritual of the service. Fire jugglers and fire breathers began the service with an exciting, mildly terrifying display. Their fire was used to light a central Chalice and from that Chalice the Christ candle was lit. What an incredible way to intentionally include UU folks into a Christian ritual. I recognize that particularly at holy week, it isn’t always appropriate to make a service interfaith, but this small gesture was meaningful and helped me feel welcome and worshipful in the space. I have been learning so much about my religious roots through as a Unitarian Universalist by participating in Jewish and Christian worship, but it was particularly moving to be met half way with the inclusion of a ritual I hold sacred.

Courtney: The fire breathers fed the Chalice, and the Chalice provided the light for the Christ Candle.  The Lutherans fed the Episcopalians, and they fed the Methodists and the Unitarian Universalists alike.  The interdenominational and interfaith interaction left a lasting impression on both Jaimie and I.  While we both came to the Vigil with different expectations, and from different Traditions, we were able to find meaning and spiritual food in the service.  Even if we were both uncomfortable at times, either from the Fire Breathers and their proximity to open flame, or the unfamiliar liturgy, we were able to share in those moments.  To me, those shared moments of spiritual growth, compassion, and uncomfortability were the most precious of all.  In those moments everyone in that room found common ground.  What more could you ask for on Easter?

 

By jdingus | Posted in Courtney, Jaimie | Comments (2)

I am not Skilled to Understand

March 27, 2015 at 9:47 am

"I am not skilled to understand, What God has willed, what God has planned."  Thank you Aaron Shust for starting my morning prayers.

There is something very profound in that line.  It is very humbling.  As humans we often have this strong desire to understand what God is doing, how it works, we as questions like "Why would God do X?" It gets hard sometimes to make sense of the contradictions that happen in our lives, and yet in that confusion and chaos is beauty and in that beauty is God.

Last night I went to the Common Cathedral auction at Andover-Newton Theological School.  I love art, and there were certainly pieces I would have wanted...if I had money to spend.  As an undergraduate who is attempting to save money for Seminary, I am not very superfluous in my spending.  But that is not the point.  I wish I could express in words the beauty and profoundness of the pieces I had the distinct pleasure of looking upon.  I love art museums, but there is something raw and deeply emotional in the art of people who's works will likely never make it into the MFA.  I was touched, and moved by the stories told in the art.  Some of the pieces, particularly of the landscapes and of the birds spoke deeply to my soul.

Meeting some of the artists themselves was a wonderful and moving experience.  To hear their stories, to see their faces, and then look at what their heart says with paint and a canvas, there are no words.  I thought writing this reflection for my blog post would be easy, but it is difficult to describe with words that which the eyes and heart feel together.

I think when we as a society think about less fortunate or otherwise challenged people we often De-humanize them.  There are of course exceptions, but on the whole as a society, we don't like to talk about "homeless people" as just people we know.  The art and the pieces that were on display speak to that.  Such talent and beauty that would impress anyone is so hard to really appreciate when our society meets the artist.  That seems a little messed up to me.  I remember walking with a friend (whom shall remain anonymous) through cambridge, and we were both relatively new to the Boston Area.  I was struck at the contrast of the Ivy League buildings and the fancy coffee shops, with the homeless hiding in the corners and asking for spare change.  My friend remarked that they hadn't noticed the homeless people and thought I was making it all up.  I was stunned, how could anyone not see such pain and burden?  Seeing the artwork last night has taught me not just to see pain and burden, but joy and celebration.  Weary hands hard at work making beauty, loving eyes looking on something that tugs at their chest.  The collaboration of what I had the joy of witnessing represents the world that I want to live in.  One where people are loved and appreciated for their gifts and their spirit nothing more and nothing less.  I am not skilled to understand why or how God works, but it is clear to me that he is indeed working through this project.

 

Thank you to all at Common Cathedral and at Andover-Newton.

Amen.

By cbjones8 | Posted in Courtney | Comments (0)

Washed Out

March 26, 2015 at 12:07 am

"One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to eat with him, and he went into the Pharisee’s house and took his place at the table. And a woman in the city, who was a sinner, having learned that he was eating in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster jar of ointment. She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears and to dry them with her hair. Then she continued kissing his feet and anointing them with the ointment."

-Luke 7:36-38

As Holy Week draws closer and closer, I am finding myself more and more overwhelmed. It seems like projects, lab reports, presentations, and a sermon have all decided to converge within the same two-week period. Add that to an exam and an upcoming housing deadline, and it comes as no surprise that I feel, to be frank, washed out. Ironically, that last part happens to be the theme for the Maundy Thursday service next week. Not the burden of persistent, unyielding fatigue, I should say, but washing.

While I can't give away all of the details yet, the readings for the service reminded me of the passage from Luke above. It evokes such a powerful image, in both its language and its meaning. In all of its beauty, it also leaves me with numerous questions. Why is the woman weeping? Is it out of sorrow, or is it out of joy at being able to see Jesus? Why did she bring and pour the perfume? And then there is a phrase that I can't quite parse out: "She stood behind him at his feet, weeping, and began to bathe his feet with her tears." I have difficulty visualizing where they are standing, or how this scene is even possible. The lines of physical reality seem to blur, which makes the image intensely beautiful.

What she does, though, is striking. She washes Jesus' feet with her own tears, and wipes them with her own hair. I cannot think of many actions that show such humility. The next thing she does makes the image even more remarkable. She kisses his feet and pours out oil over them. Normally I would expect these intimate gestures to be reserved for the head. Yet she does them to the feet, the lowest part of the body. For they are on the ground, tying us to the earth and the dirt that composes it.

These are only a few of the elements in this passage that make it so unusual. It bends my traditional associations in its gestures, and its language washes out the boundaries of what is possible. In the end, her act of washing Jesus' feet is also a gesture of forgiveness. Later in the passage, Jesus says the following: "Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.” (Luke 7:44-47). Her tears wash not only his feet, but her own sins as well. 

I'm not sure how the next few days will turn out. The lines between what is work, what is school, what is rest, and how I fit into all of that feel like they are starting to blur. There have been times this week where I almost felt like I was drowning in anxiety. But when I think of all I have to do, and all that I will do, I find reassurance in these verses. They tell me that even amid all of the confusion, the ambiguity, and the uncertainty, there is hope for renewal. There is hope for washing the anxiety away, and not being washed out by it.

 

By iquillen | Posted in Ian | Comments (0)

498 Square Feet

March 18, 2015 at 11:48 pm

What do you do with the space that is available to you? That was an underlying question that came up in a meeting this past week. A few weeks ago, I attended an interfaith conference at Yale called Coming Together 7. On Monday, I met with my two friends Jaimie and Emily to share our experiences. We all appreciated the fact that Yale's campus had separate spaces dedicated to different religious groups on campus, and we talked about whether an interfaith space could be implemented at BU. At that point, though, we ran into the obstacle of space.

Even though BU's Charles River campus stretches for a mile and a half along Commonwealth Ave, it its heavily integrated into the city of Boston. As a result, space is a very limited resource. I learned an interesting fact during the meeting: if you took all the space in the university and divided it among its students, each one would have around 498 square feet of room.

That number stood out to me. When you think about it, it's a little room: probably the size of a small apartment room. But then think about all of the things that must be placed in it. Similarly, BU has to accommodate classrooms, facilities, labs, and dorms. Taking that all into account, there isn't much left over. Creating a space in which multiple faiths could coexist would take time, and it might not happen anytime soon.

So how do you use space currently available to facilitate interfaith ministry? Or for worship in one particular faith, for that matter? When there is no stable place to keep the things you need for worship, creating a place to practice your faith becomes incredibly challenging. It is especially difficult when some of the religious spaces on campus aren't welcoming to all. Not everyone will want to step through the doors of a church, for example. But your beliefs are something that you carry with you, something that can expand into the space you inhabit. The space should therefore adapt to and accommodate them. I don't quite know what this will involve, or how to achieve this in the near future. But I do know that everyone should have access to a space that welcomes all of them. Hopefully, they will be able to see those 498 square feet not as restricting, but liberating.

By iquillen | Posted in Ian | Comments (0)

Telling people what exactly it is that I want to do with my life.

March 18, 2015 at 9:29 pm

My first week in Boston, I met a lot of new people.  I had just recently accepted and become really excited about my calling into ministry.  It was also a pivotal piece to my decision to transfer.  I found out relatively quickly however, that when people ask you what you want to be when you grow up, and you answer a Pastor, it is not the best way to make friends quickly.

I have found however, that the people who stick around after that are worth it.  It took time, but I have made some really amazing and wonderful friends here in Boston.  I even swell up with happiness and admittedly some pride when my not so religious friends tell me that they think I will make a pretty awesome pastor.

But...for some reason, when I am meeting a new peer, I can not help but feel all sorts of anxiety when they questions of future come up.  Being curious I like to know what other people's ambitions in life are.  Then they often respectfully ask me back.  I have tried in the past to doge the question by saying things like "I want to go into the business of helping people" or "I want to make a difference in people's lives."

This past week, I had a conversation with a new friend.  That question came up.  And with more certainty and confidence than ever before, I stated that I was planning on going into the ministry.  Perhaps because I am no longer uncomfortable with the implications that such a statement may carry, the conversation had a notably different tone.  Curiosity was there, but the previously felt tension was not.  Maybe all along I just needed to be sure of myself.  It is an interesting thought for sure.  It is amazing how we can be so sure of God in our hearts, and yet not always comfortable talking about our faith in everyday life.  I am learning slowly how to balance my faith as a crucial part of who I am, while simultaneously letting my light shine in a world that has previously told me to hide it under a bushel.

By cbjones8 | Posted in Courtney | Comments (0)

Rest

March 11, 2015 at 11:03 pm

Midterms are done (for now), spring break has arrived, and I have a moment of rest following the chaos of everyday life. After spending most of my waking hours in some form of motion, it feels incredibly liberating to sit still and breathe. Worries about work, school, clubs, and meetings are slowly evaporating, which gives me plenty of time to do...well, that's just it. I hadn't really planned that much for over break. Now that it's here, I'm seriously wondering what to do with myself.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I find life at home boring or uneventful. Chatting with my family and playing board games with them certainly adds pieces of joy to my life. I also haven't simply stopped doing work altogether. As much as I would like to take a full vacation from school, the fact of the matter is that projects, papers, and worksheets await to be completed. Vacation releases some time to catch up on work, for sure. But with the everyday stress of living as a college student gone, time seems to pass so much more slowly. With that slowness, I can decompress and savor the moments that I forget about in school.

The act of walking is a good example of this. I walk practically everywhere that is reasonably accessible by foot, and yet it is a process that I rarely appreciate. At home, I no longer need to walk with a particular destination in mind. I can ambulate for the pure pleasure of movement, instead of doing it to get from point A to point B. I think this is a gift that the grace of rest bestows: the ability to enjoy something for its own sake, not just what it was made for.

Perhaps that, ultimately, is the purpose of rest. Rest does not necessarily entail doing nothing, for we always have some task set out in our minds. It involves doing something that we love with intention, and creating the space and time to do it. Whether that space is filled with sleep, travel, reading, writing, watching movies, or play, the fact that we do it because we appreciate it makes it fulfilling. As we continue through the next few days of respite, I'm looking forward to finding and making space to rest for the upcoming weeks. Whether you're working or are on break, I hope you will be able to do the same.

By iquillen | Posted in Ian | Comments (0)

Silence

March 6, 2015 at 9:31 am

This past week in my RN212 Christianity class, we talked about the novel "Silence" by Shusaku Endo.  I do not think I have stopped thinking about this novel.  In short, it is about a Portugese Catholic Priest who goes to Japan in the midst of Christian persecution in Japan.  The book addresses issues of Martyrdom, sacrifice, what that can look like, judgement, forgiveness, and freewill.  I don't want to spoil the book for anyone who becomes inspired to read it (you should) so I will try my best to not give too much away.

 

The book has prompted a lot of questions.  Particularly self reflection questions.  Would I denounce my faith if it meant saving the life of others?  That seems like a miserable unfair question.  From a young age I found inspiration in martyrs.  People willing to give their own lives up for their faith.  I think, as I have already given my life to Christ, I would have no problem dying for God.

 

That is not however, the issue this book addresses.  Would you denounce your faith to save not your own life, but the lives of other Christians?  What kind of a sacrifice would that be?  For the devout it is an impossible question.  The book literally discusses what would Jesus do in that situation, and according to Endo, Jesus would apostatize (denounce, or trample on an image of the divine) for the sake of others.

I began to question what sacrifice really means.  I have a line tattooed to my back from a poem by Andrea Gibson.  It says "The Sun said it hurts to become, I carry that hurt on the tip of my tongue."  Often I find great solace in that.  Sometimes sacrifices must be made, losing friends, ending toxic relationships, moving, etc.  Following God can make no sense in this world.  Often I change the words to "The Son said it hurts to become..." at least in my own mind.  This book really challenged a lot of my perceptions on what those challenges could be.  For myself, and many Christians our faith is life and death.  My life is not my own, and in that I find great comfort.  Even when I seek to follow God in all things, there are times when that means making decisions that in the moment, may hurt just a bit.  The decision to leave home to come to Boston.  The decision to leave certain relationships in my past.  In the moments of those decisions I found pain.  But as Psalm 30:5 says weeping may last for a night, but joy comes with the morning.  I have found great joy has come to replace any temporary pain.  I wonder sometimes, if this life is hard, is the joy in the morning what comes after?  If God can teach us these lessons here on earth, imagine the great joy when we are reunited with him.

 

I may never know the sufferings of others.  I do know that no one ever said being a follower of Christ was going to make life easy. I also know that in the end, joy always comes in the morning.  I wish perhaps Endo had introduced that resolution in his story.  God's trials do not always make sense.  In my own experience, I have yelled at God asking why must I endure this?  I have found however, that not in my own time, but in God's, it all makes sense. Amen.

By cbjones8 | Posted in Courtney | Comments (0)

Peculiarity and Plurality

March 4, 2015 at 3:30 pm

Last week, Soren and I talked about how I tend to claim an identity that contrasts with the identity of the people around me. He called it the peculiarity within the plurality. Those words resonated with me because I do tend to cling to some shred of individuality in an attempt to maintain some sense of autonomy. Maybe I’ve just read too many dystopian novels, but I have this fear of becoming part of some mindless group-think where we all just go along with what everyone else is doing because we assume that they know what they’re doing. The things that stuck with me most from my high school psychology class were the studies about our strong tendency to conform. There’s the Milgram experiment where ordinary individuals ended up delivering what they thought were lethal 450-volt shocks to another person who failed to answer a series of questions correctly because a researcher ordered them to. And there are experiments where individuals answering questions in a group changed their answers when everyone answering in front of them gave a different answer, even when that answer was blatantly incorrect.

And while I’d like to think that I wouldn’t be like those people, that I would stay true to my beliefs and values, I’m sure all of the subjects in those studies would have thought the same thing. So I think that part of my tendency toward peculiarity within the plurality stems from a need to remind myself that I maintain a sense of individuality and autonomy. But I also think I associate with smaller groups in an attempt to distance myself from the actions of a larger group that I might not agree with. For example, I choose to predominantly identify as Lutheran rather than Christian because the Lutheran identification connects me with a smaller number of people so there’s less of a chance that those people will do something that I disagree with or could be held responsible for. And it distances me from actions that other non-Lutheran Christians have taken in the name of their faith that I don’t agree with.

And yet, no matter what labels I choose to give myself, I am still a member of those larger groups. This is something I’ve especially struggled with in terms of my identity as an American citizen because no matter what I think of the actions the U.S. government takes, as a voting citizen I am partly responsible for those actions. Democracy is beautiful because, hypothetically, it allows everyone a voice in government, but in light of these psychology studies, democracy can be a dangerous thing as well. When I look at U.S. foreign policy, I often feel like my answers are being changed before I have a chance to say them. I believe it is morally wrong to take a life and yet, as an American citizen, I am connected to drone strikes and other military operations that kill people every day. I understand that there are people out there who have committed and are committing horrific crimes and maybe it is the easiest and best solution to take their life. But I can’t make that call. I don’t believe that any of us are qualified to decide who is allowed to live and who deserves to die. God should be the only one with that kind of authority.

The funny thing about my aversion to conformity is that I strongly identify as a religious person and yet religion is itself a form of conformity. We are told what to believe and we believe it; or we are told that we must do certain things in order to be saved and we do them without question. Christians are often portrayed as sheep, the very animal most used as an example of mindlessness. Religion in many forms can seem scary and uniform and dangerous. But religion also gives me hope. There may be people who just believe what their pastor or priest or imam or rabbi tells them but there are so many other people who constantly question what they believe. There are so many places where doubt is crucial to faith. And I think that these questions are where we assert our individuality and where we take ownership. As long as we ask questions—‘what does this mean’, ‘what are we called to do’, ‘why are we doing these things’, and even the clichéd ‘what would Jesus do’—all of these questions mark a desire to live out our lives with intention and mindfulness. These questions keep us honest. They allow us to step away from the switches and refuse to give the next electrical shock, they help us see where we’re going and what the consequences might be, they are a system of checks and balances much more potent than the three branches of government. In asking these questions, we take ownership of our group identity instead of becoming lost in it. In other words, we claim our peculiarity without losing the plurality.

I don’t know what this means for the future—of the church, the government, the world, or my own life—but it eases my brain, that has absorbed too many dystopian novels, to know we claim the peculiarity and it eases my heart, that yearns for community, to know we claim the plurality.

By kmshultz | Posted in Kasey | Comments (0)

Sabbath

February 27, 2015 at 8:40 am

This was the first whole week of school/work pretty much all semester.  The good side of that was working at the pool, I finally got to see my Monday classes.   However, it has been an exhausting week.  I didn't realize how dependent I had become on snow days and holidays to be my Sabbath.

Since I have been at Marsh, I have been surrounded by wonderful examples of clergy who not only give their all, but also know how to take care of themselves.  In my personal life outside of Marsh, that has not always been the case.

This week, and my general failure to really find some down time, has shown me not only the value of a Sabbath, but also the difference in having one and not having one.  I am starting to really understand why God wants us to rest as he did.

As someone who has been described by her parents as a "go girl" I am literally always busy and on the go.  I am seeing now why that may really not always be the best approach.  I often say I thrive in Chaos, but that is only true when I am refreshed.  As we move into March, and with Spring break approaching, I am hoping to find that time to recharge, and then in the future, really make sure I have time for myself, and not just for all of the projects I am involved in.

By cbjones8 | Posted in Courtney, Uncategorized | Comments (0)