Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Solomon

Solomon

Before the daffodil petals disappear.

Before the bright colors of the tulips turn to green.

Before the maple trees burst into fits of green.

Before the whites and yellows, purples and pinks are gone take time to enjoy them.

Luke 12.27

²⁷Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.

Take time to be still today. Take time to watch the robin hop from limb to limb. Take time to watch a squirrel struggle to get every bit of that bird seed from your feeder.

Thoreau said, and I think suggested, “Many a forenoon have I stolen away, preferring to spend thus the most valued part of the day; for I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days, and spent them lavishly; nor do I regret that I did not waste more of them in the workshop or the teacher’s desk.”

Do what you need to do today.

Work a solid 8 hours. Accomplish all that is on your to do list. Go grocery shopping. Mow the lawn or weed the garden. Grade papers or bake goodies.

Whatever it is you need to do, do it and do it well.

Then, be still.

Take in the season of spring. Take a stroll around the block and notice the plants you haven’t before. Take a drive to the park and walk a trail.

Whatever it is you need to do, take time to do it and be still.

Be still.

Stop. Don’t argue. Don’t make excuses.

Be still.

Your spirit will thank you. The earth will too.

April Prayer

by Stuart Kestenbaum

Just before the green begins there is the hint of green

a blush of color, and the red buds thicken

the ends of the maple’s branches and everything

is poised before the start of a new world,

which is really the same world

just moving forward from bud

to flower to blossom to fruit

to harvest to sweet sleep, and the roots

await the next signal, every signal

every call a miracle and the switchboard

is lighting up and the operators are

standing by in the pledge drive we’ve

all been listening to: Go make the call.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Sunday Rose

I have a confession:

                                                                        I am a liturginerd.

What does that mean you ask?

Essentially it means this:  someone who is extra enthusiastic about something to do with their church life, whether that’s theology, the liturgy, or just being an exuberant Presbyterian.

One of the reasons I love being Presbyterian is that we follow the liturgical calendar. This calendar begins on the first Sunday of Advent, which normally begins in late November. A major reason why the church follows the liturgical calendar/year can be simplified down to this point:  many periods of time shape us, and most of them do not begin or end at the same time.

The civic new year is, at best, a calendrical device designed to regulate the daily affairs of people. Meanwhile, the liturgical year is the year that sets out to attune the life of the Christian to the life of Jesus, the Christ. Feminist Christian mystic Joan Chittister says, “[The liturgical year] proposes, year after year, to immerse us over and over again into the sense and substance of the Christian life until, eventually, we become what we say we are—followers of Jesus all the way to the heart of God.” The liturgical year is an adventure in human growth, an exercise in spiritual ripening.

Currently the church is smack in the middle of Lent.

Did you know this upcoming Sunday, has a different name and color to it?

The Fourth Sunday of Lent (March 18th) is called Laetare Sunday, when the church (specifically speaking the Roman Church) takes a bit of breather from Lenten practice and opens worship with the Entrance Antiphon, “Rejoice, Jerusalem … Be joyful, all who were in mourning!” – taken from Isaiah chapter 66.

Like the third Sunday of Advent ("Gaudete Sunday"), the fourth Sunday of Lent is a break in an otherwise penitential season.  The day is a day of relaxation from normal Lenten rigors; a day of hope with Easter being at last within sight. One way the church has marked this hope is by changing the paraments from purple to pink. The rose colored cloth on Laetare Sunday is a custom originating as a symbol of joy and hope in the middle of this somber season.

This Sunday could not come at more perfect time. Robins have been spotted under your feeder and I bet, if you look close enough, you can see the earth come alive again.

Resurrection is coming.

Easter is near.

That is good news.

Rejoice, friends. You’re doing good work where you are, exactly as you are.

Here is one last bit of liturginerd information for ya.

Laetare Sunday is also called “Rose Sunday” because of the papal blessing of the golden rose, a floral spray blessed by the pope and given to a notable person or institution.

I’m not the pope.

But I give you this rose because your life,

your story,

your presence

is a gift to us all.

Be well. Be rose-y. Above all, be you!

No matter what the world preaches
spring unfolds in its appointed time,
the violets open and the roses,
snow in its hour builds its shining curves,
there's the laughter of children at play,
and the wholesome sweetness of rhyme.
~Mary Oliver, No Matter What

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word of the Day--Created

Day 2:  Created

In the beginning, God created… [Genesis 1.1]

I thought about posting a picture of the meal I created last night with chicken, peppers and onions, olive oil and a little seasoning, which went over rice.

I thought about posting a photo of a space I created in my study that tells the story of my faith journey:  my infant baptism certificate, my Pope Francis figurine, a couple of icons, the Tanakh, among other significant items. Together these objects make a type of altar, a reminder of the vocation to which I am called.

“And I knew that the Spirit that had gone forth

to shape the world and make it live was still

alive in it. I just had no doubt. I could see that

I lived in the created world, and it was still being

created. I would be part of it forever. There was

no escape. The Spirit that made it was in it,

shaping it and reshaping it, sometimes lying at

rest, sometimes standing up and shaking itself,

like a muddy horse, and letting the pieces fly.”

― Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow

Then I remembered the picture I took last night just before I went in to the local rec center to run 3 miles, an added discipline to a routine/schedule that I created with some of my friends.

Before I went in to accomplish running regimen I created that would surely aid in burning left over Thanksgiving calories, I had to stop and take in the view. With the cold December air on my face, I stood and marveled at what appeared to be 2 worlds colliding together, creating a beautiful display of color.

A world of darkness.

A world of light.

Heaven.

and

Earth.

I stood admiring the beauty right in front of me. On this green and blue planet full of so much pain and brokenness, the evening sunset reminded me of God’s good intentions when God created.

Creation has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? It discloses a power that baffles our minds and beggars our speech. From the sight of a well-turned double play, which was created by a lead off base hit by the sweet swinging Anthony Rizzo, to the Rocky Mountains rising up out of the horizon created by years of those tectonic plates underground crashing into each other, have a tendency to leave us in wonderment.

We stutter and stammer about God’s creativeness, God’s goodness, and God’s ability to create selflessly—creating

you

and

me

not only good but also

in God’s very own image.

John Calvin once said, “There is not one blade of grass, there is no color in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice.”

Advent is a time to rejoice in the peace found in the Creator taking on flesh and becoming one with creation. Advent is a season where we are reminded of the One in which we are created in and from…

Emmanuel.

In the beginning and

right now

and in the days to come,

God created and calls it all

good very good.

What will you create this Advent season to tell of God’s goodness and love?

Below is one of my favorite poems about creation. It was written by Baptist preacher James Weldon Johnson and can be found in his book God's Trombone.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Smell

Smell

Secretly, it arrived in the night. Well, as secretive as a thunderstorm can. At first, there was no loud boom or a bright flash of light. There was no steady rhythm of rainfall either. Outside my window the world was settling into the darkness. What got me to notice the falling droplets of water from the high heavens was it’s refreshing smell.

Slowly my living room began filling with the aroma of precipitation. Because I couldn’t hear or see signs of a storm, I rose to my feet and looked out the window. My discovery was the cobble stone street reflecting the rays from the street lamps. The rust colored bricks were ablaze in an artificial radiance, just as they did in the winter:  slick.

Standing on the boulevard, I saw the first flash of energy in the sky off in the distance. A low rumble, similar to that of Silas when he is annoyed with Chloe’s antics to get him to play, came shortly after. It was a matter of time before the tranquility of the rain would be disrupted by the storm the westward winds would usher in.

Silence has substance and perhaps a smell, too. In the gentle descent of the rain I was reminded of the way things stir by night. How the wind brought in a fragrance that flooded my memory with feelings of happiness and joy. Suddenly my whole being was saturated with a reminder of God’s often-unseen grace and love. Between the raindrops emerged this comforting silence.

Sophia, that is her name to many. Others call her “Spirit.” Whatever title and gender you ascribe, the Wisdom of God comes forth, reaching from end to end mightily, but gently. This Wisdom, Sophia, wills to be also the unseen pivot of all nature, the center and significance of all the light that is in all and for all:  mercy and love. This promise, in any storm, can usher us to sweet sleep.

“[Sunshine] burns in the sky like the Face of God, but we do not know his countenance as terrible.”*** God speaks to us gently in ten thousand things, in which God’s light is one fullness and one Wisdom. On that couch, seduced by that smell, love cornered me and surrounded me with peace without having to look very far or very hard or do anything special. My spirit was awakened.

Summoning me in the sweet, unforeseen fragrance of rain was a Gift of our Creator’s thought and art within me, speaking as Sophia. That is how God speaks though, isn’t it? God’s Wisdom, cries out to all who will hear and cries out particularly to the little, to the scared and the helpless. Indeed, O blessed, Silent One, who speaks everywhere! Out of the silence Light is spoken…

or smelled….


***Much of the imagery is influenced by Thomas Merton's poem Sophia.