tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-146640952024-03-07T14:10:58.784-05:00Flavor of the MonthThere's a real dark side to being flavor of the month. (I've experienced it more than once.) Look at how God treats His "chosen people" in the Old Testament. One minute they're chosen, the next a rebellious and stiff-necked generation. You can't ever believe your own press. Good to keep in mind.Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.comBlogger637125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-12559216040162352352014-11-27T10:43:00.001-05:002014-11-27T10:43:22.727-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-3810152314234405482013-12-24T15:16:00.000-05:002013-12-24T15:16:32.297-05:00most highly favored Lady… Gloria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-42336889965965074132013-06-11T09:15:00.001-04:002013-06-11T09:15:46.897-04:00In the beginning was the Word.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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"In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was
God."</div>
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Well, that's very fine and dandy for God to be just one
word. He/She's the only one bright enough to understand what that one word
means anyway. We, on the other hand, need lots of words. As many as we can make
up and use on a regular basis… to give us a sense of understanding, a sense of
communication.</div>
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So does that mean a culture with lots of words in its
language is smarter or dumber? Depends on who you ask. Take the word love. The
Greeks had different words to describe love: eros, agape… but in English we
only have <i>one</i> love so we tack on a whole bunch of adjectives to explain what
kind: romantic love, brotherly love, unconditional love.</div>
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Take infinity for a word. I guess infinity describes God-time,
but can infinity convey the awesome length of<i> forever</i> backwards and forwards?
Does it even describe the linear concept of backwards and forwards, or is it
about some all-in-one-at-a-time concept that only Albert Einstein could
understand? </div>
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Can the word <i>orange</i> describe the awesome color of a sunset? I don't
think so. Orange must be experienced with the eyes for it to be comprehended.
So saying the Word was God and God was the Word is just a whole lot of Bible-Babble.
And nobody know what it means, except the Bible-twerps, and even they don't
know for sure. Nobody does. Because it's a secret. It's a code. Part of the
mystery.</div>
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If God were easy to understand, it wouldn't be any fun. For
God, or for us. At least that's my story, and I'm sticking with it.</div>
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-19612315927137932092013-03-30T16:49:00.000-04:002013-03-30T16:49:17.881-04:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-27974997752002386882012-12-25T09:50:00.003-05:002012-12-25T09:51:23.546-05:00Christmas 2012<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-68160056439994664382012-12-16T19:15:00.001-05:002012-12-16T19:15:16.393-05:00Advent III<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>O Wisdom…</i> tonight begins the first of the "Great Os" that lead up to Christmas Eve. I had not heard of them before coming to the community, and now, like most of my sisters, I look forward to them.<br />
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We are a sorry excuse for a choir now, and for that reason, most of the time we <i>don't</i> sing. But our eldest sister has been humming the opening to "O Wisdom" all week, and even though I knew it would be off key and totally out of whack, I still began the antiphon by singing it instead of saying it. It was awful. But it reminded me of the fairy tale of the monks in a small Russian community who hired a professional singer to sing on one of their sacred occasions. Afterward, the monk was praying and said, "Usually the angels come to hear us on this night, but I didn't sense them this year." The answer was, "Usually <i>you</i> sing. We come to hear you."<br />
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Oddly enough YouTube has no video of anyone chanting these haunting melodies. That's too bad. You sure don't want to hear <i>me</i> sing them, even if the angels don't mind.</div>
Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-14579847221812100372012-12-09T15:42:00.002-05:002012-12-09T15:44:53.124-05:00Advent II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A pregnant and unwed Mary… off to her cousin's. Greeted with joy, no judgement, no questions asked. Our celebrant today spoke about the amazing capacity that God has to meet us where we are.<br />
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We don't have to clean ourselves up, or clean up our house, before God can come in to meet us. We may<i> think</i> we do. But that is not what God asks of us.<br />
<br />
How amazing when we cam mirror that same acceptance in each other, the way Elizabeth welcomed Mary.<br />
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May this next week of the "Irrational Season" (as Madeleine L'Engle described it) be one for welcoming and accepting and joy.</div>
Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-40722354087621461722012-12-01T19:03:00.002-05:002012-12-01T19:06:50.027-05:00Advent I<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Easy enough to promise…<br />
"Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me as you have said."<br />
<br />
Until the nausea sets in and the pregnancy begins to show.<br />
Now what?<br />
<br />
No wonder Mary took off for her cousin's house. After all, the same angel had said Elizabeth was six months along. Misery loves company/safety in numbers/any cliché in a storm.<br />
<br />
But what she found at Elizabeth's was affirmation. Validation. We all could use a little of that when we say yes to God. Especially when we have no clue where that yes will lead.<br />
Wishing you a blessed Advent: full of affirmations and validations for your choices in life.<br />
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-66642999380543913292012-11-27T16:11:00.002-05:002012-11-27T16:12:31.634-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We have a cat here at the convent. Her name is Emily and she belongs to Sr. Faith Margaret. When Sister is traveling, I'm the one who scoops the poop, feeds her and gives her medication. She often sleeps with me when Sister is gone. Most of the time I don't mind at all. She's a good cat.<br />
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But she's not <i>my</i> cat. I would like to have a cat of my own, <i>specifically</i> an orange cat like this one in the picture.<br />
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I would name it something really dumb, like Ginger or Home Depot.<br />
I would love my cat.<br />
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On the other hand, I can predict a zillion reasons why this would be a terrible idea. Who would take care of <i>my</i> cat when <i>I</i> travel? And I don't know what I'd do if Emily didn't <i>like</i> Home Depot, if they didn't get along. Of course I would side with <i>my</i> cat in any disagreements. I would blame Emily for throw-up in the hallway. I would compare who had the cleanest cat litter box. I would begin to resent Emily, who now holds the seat of grace in our house. She's a good cat; she doesn't deserve that. She's just not <i>my</i> cat.<br />
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-44164199629507960642012-11-25T10:16:00.001-05:002012-11-25T10:16:43.750-05:00Happy Birthday Mom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today would be my mother's birthday. She was 28 years old when I was born, which would make her 95 if she were still alive. Nobody in my family ever lived to 95. They were heavy smoking, hard drinking New Englanders, and most of them died in their 70s of heart disease or stroke.<br />
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I will most likely die of stroke. I carry the high cholesterol RNA, the artery-hardening strands of genetic material that takes us down when we least expect it. It actually gives me a great deal of comfort to think about dying that way; certainly better than wasting away a day at a time, peeing my pants, my mind moving in and out of some goofy mental fog.<br />
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Several of my sisters are elderly and it's both a joy and a frustration to try to follow the mental trail of breadcrumbs their minds leave behind. The other breadcrumbs I just sweep up, trying to get to them before they're ground into the wood floors. When you age you don't see so well, don't hear so well, don't remember so well, and the powers of observation deteriorate along with everything else.<br />
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I can see it in myself to a lesser extent, but I am twenty years younger than they are. I have lots of time to deteriorate.<br />
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My mother didn't want to be buried when she died. It wasn't the coffin so much as she didn't want any one place to mark her passing. She wanted cremation with the ashes scattered by the funeral home, so I would never know where she was. "If you want to remember me, put a vase of flowers on the mantle on my birthday." she said.<br />
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I've done that some years. But while I went along with the cremation idea, I scattered her ashes myself. The oceans of the world mark her passing. Any beach will do as the place I visit to remember her.<br />
Since I can't get to the beach today (I'm supper cook) I may get some flowers. Happy Birthday Mom.</div>
Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-75478279156760061802012-11-22T07:14:00.001-05:002012-11-22T07:14:27.581-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-7938775124897572612011-12-04T14:21:00.002-05:002011-12-04T14:30:26.989-05:00Advent 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgnbfbLsbGUqmOTuH18h1sAJO6z4Iha8LXbqE4eDQ-RbhQMh3ZN74yd7TwRT-8-SQLGiK_l8rYuSLMUhoErDjm8ixO9h8GCTKsQUtjEQPA8SyJ26VjGjJ2R_KcBrR561r25ONxg/s1600/Adventflames2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 288px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikgnbfbLsbGUqmOTuH18h1sAJO6z4Iha8LXbqE4eDQ-RbhQMh3ZN74yd7TwRT-8-SQLGiK_l8rYuSLMUhoErDjm8ixO9h8GCTKsQUtjEQPA8SyJ26VjGjJ2R_KcBrR561r25ONxg/s400/Adventflames2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682355929883287490" /></a>"A voice of one crying out <div>in the wilderness…"</div><div><br /></div><div>How can <i>anyone</i> make </div><div>a pathway for God?</div><div><br /></div><div>only with God's help.</div><div>and irony in every step<br /><div><br /></div></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-33148829835478257272011-11-27T09:55:00.003-05:002011-12-04T14:27:23.895-05:00Advent 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdK2m7CjzO7eINNtrXuZZRxGQYvowrF2Q-a2ARCwVwkbR3o9MIrRh1F675Nlou08Dd4KZzMhyu3SFe7PJtTDFkJw6UBvD1GbkkCtoxeIQaO7rM0zZcYZn8bCCWZkFHi0gEioR5vQ/s1600/candle.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 144px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdK2m7CjzO7eINNtrXuZZRxGQYvowrF2Q-a2ARCwVwkbR3o9MIrRh1F675Nlou08Dd4KZzMhyu3SFe7PJtTDFkJw6UBvD1GbkkCtoxeIQaO7rM0zZcYZn8bCCWZkFHi0gEioR5vQ/s400/candle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682356913125729346" /></a>A people who live in darkness…<div>cannot comprehend the light.</div><div>give me eyes to see</div><div>ears to hear</div><div>hands to help…</div><div><br /></div><div>lead me out of the darkness O Lord.</div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-26553469346771007412011-05-15T15:06:00.006-04:002011-05-15T19:02:46.231-04:00Oregon Associates Retreat 2011 #4<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNY57jPu9_QUkWSfzziOo1iKfyWLMG_6iDBTVmNUy-zpBPxxx2sNhCAR9zFuOKiTvhvNvCCmfkl3Mkma0jAjUbkfbJ_z-TRFZZyFdb2KepZ2PnX0soPe1B2jh9iVrRYe1QPc9mw/s1600/diningroom.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNY57jPu9_QUkWSfzziOo1iKfyWLMG_6iDBTVmNUy-zpBPxxx2sNhCAR9zFuOKiTvhvNvCCmfkl3Mkma0jAjUbkfbJ_z-TRFZZyFdb2KepZ2PnX0soPe1B2jh9iVrRYe1QPc9mw/s400/diningroom.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607025105388389314"></a><br />There is a story about a monk who came to Joshu (The Chinese Zen Master) at breakfast time and said, "I have just entered this monastery to learn about God. Please teach me."<br /><br />"Have you eaten your porridge yet?" asked Joshu.<br />"Yes, I have," replied the monk.<br />"Then you had better wash your bowl," said Joshu.<br /><br /><font style="font-style:italic;">Bowl washing</font>… not the inspiring advice he was expecting. We live in a self-help show-and-tell culture. We want our lives to be meaningful, to make a difference… our faith to make a difference.<br /><br />We have all the appropriate descriptions for what we want, we know the jargon: we want to practice mindful-living. We want to be fully present. We want intentionality, to be alive in our own skins. We want to live in the NOW. Well NOW for that monk was time to wash his bowl. But because that act had no special significance, wasn’t <i>meaningful</i>, it wasn’t even on his radar.<br /><br />Of course there are always going to be times when we’re tired or unfocused, times when we’re too caught up and ignore the details.<br /><br />But in our culture it’s more insidious than that. We quite literally don’t see or notice, or don’t pay attention… to the life that is right in front of us. We’re looking ahead to <i>after </i>the bowl is washed— that’s when we’ll get the payoff. As if there were a payoff.<br /><br />We don't want to "just" wash the bowl — or whatever small, insignificant, trivial task we may be engaged in. We want to <b>comprehend</b> it. Or turn it into some sort of competition. <i><b>I</b></i> washed twenty-five bowls today. How many did you wash?<div><br />I am so guilty of this. For me it’s taking out the garbage. We keep our garbage cans in one of the closets. It’s a temporary situation because we haven’t finished landscaping the outside of the building. We need to buy a couple of those garbage can “houses” that you lock up so nobody can steal your garbage, go through the bags and make a big mess all over the sidewalk. (This is New York, even the garbage is under lock and key.)<br /><br />So for now, the cans are inside the house, in a closet. Garbage days are Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, and Saturday is also recycle day. That means in addition to the big black plastic garbage bags there are also clear bags with bottles and cans and paper.<br /><br />I seem to be the only one who can remember when it’s garbage day. We once had a maintenance man to do this work but now we don’t. It’s not a hard job: you pull the bag out of the can, tie it up and put it out by the curb. It just has to be done before 7:00 am. If you do it the night before, the bags get ripped open and the contents strewn on the sidewalk. So sometime between 6:30 and 7:00 am the garbage goes out.<br /><br />If we <i>forget</i> the closet starts to smell. If Tuesday’s garbage waits til Thursday, some of the contents have been four days in the tomb and they stinketh. The bag is also heavier now; it won’t come out of the can as easily.<br /><br />I used to do it <i>every</i> garbage day. But there was a worry that if that continued I’d go through garbage burn-out and get resentful. We’ve had some history with that in our convent… one sister will want to play the hero and take on more work than she can handle. The other sisters let it happen. She gets tired, bummed out that no one <i>else</i> is stepping up to the plate to help, then the resentment starts to simmer… it’s not pretty.<br /><br />So we agreed that since one sister is breakfast cook on Tuesday and another on Thursday, that they would take over those days and I would do Saturday. Saturday. Saturday is our “sleep in” day. Saturday is <i>recycle</i> day… more bags to put out. See how that sense of competition creeps in? It’s insidious.<br /><br />Each year I come out here and stand up in front of you and talk about something. Some of you say: “Oh, what you said— I needed to hear that.” Or “I’ve been struggling with such and such and your comments put it in a different perspective.” When that synchronicity happens it’s the Holy Spirit. It’s Grace.</div><div><br />Because the truth of the matter is this: with you, I’m preaching to the choir. You are <i>already</i> holy, faithful members of Christ’s amazing Body. I’m <i>really</i> <b>preaching to myself</b>. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>I</i> need to hear the words "let go of the old story" so God’s new story can emerge. <i>I </i>need to hear "It’s difficult to be a Christian. Embrace the difficulty." <i>I</i> need to hear going deeper in faith changes everything. So I won’t be dumfounded when everything changes. <i>I</i> need to hear that I am a fig tree with a measly harvest waiting for God and the day of reckoning to arrive. <i>I</i> need to say “yes” to my watershed moments.<br /><br />Greg Levoy said this:<br /><i>Wherever our most primal fears reside, our fears of the dark, of death, of being devoured, of meaninglessness, of lovelessness, or of loss changes— wherever those fears reside is good, because beneath them lie gems of wisdom— and maybe a vision or a calling. Wherever you stumble: on a tree root, on a rock, on fear, on shame, on vulnerability, on someone else’s words, on the truth— <b>dig there</b>.<br />Dig there and be ready to be surprised.</i><br /><br />Friday I spoke about Jesus being busy, but never in a hurry. In the middle of his busy schedule (teaching, healing, caring) lots of people clamoring for his attention, the whole town gathered at the door— what did he do? He withdrew to a solitary place to pray.</div><div><br />His disciples couldn’t understand it. They were put out, hunted him down… Jesus! What are you doing here?!? Nothing!?! Don’t you want to be a good Messiah? Get back down there. People are counting on you. What will people think? Jesus, you need a time-management seminar—you could accomplish more.<br /><br />Okay, so that’s a pretty loose interpretation of Mark’s Gospel. But even the literal translation sounds spot on: “Jesus, everyone is looking for you.”</div><div><br />It’s just another variation on “You have some nerve saying no.” We’ve all been subjected to that kind of thinking. We’ve also more than likely projected it onto others who said no to us. But there are problems inherent with this way of thinking.<br /><ul><li>There’s an assumption that worth comes from what we do or produce. If we believe that then we’re motivated to be indispensible.</li><li>We assume that withdrawal (whether it’s Sabbath time or R&R) is wasteful. And we should be guilty about it. The inner voice chirping in our ear — shouldn’t you be doing something worthwhile with your time?</li></ul><br />What did Jesus say when the disciples said “everyone is looking for you”? </div><div>He said: “Then let us go somewhere else.”<br /><br />Today we would say Jesus needed a “spin doctor.” But the bottom line is this: For Jesus, withdrawing is not optional. It is <i>intentional </i>and <i>essential.</i></div><div><i><br /></i>We may enjoy the adrenaline rush of being needed, but when we give in to the <b>should </b>of being all things to all people— when we give up the need to withdraw or rest or renew— we lose the rhythm of life that feeds our souls.</div><div><br />Jesus is saying to his disciples: Do you see that clump of people? Do you have any idea why I have any power in that clump? It’s because I regularly say NO. I regularly withdraw to a place where I listen to a different voice, my Father’s voice— about my identity.</div><div><br />What happens is… if we don’t say no when we need to, the no will come by default. And then we will end up saying no to the ones we love the most.<br /></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-45846741397997075162011-05-01T12:40:00.007-04:002011-05-08T13:59:16.515-04:00Oregon Associates Retreat 2011 #3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Lj2lUNBn08QWxcSSlwY9c7jnehWX_NvWPX5QVNf1cOro1u-aCChNBMSsmY8Tx-CD7lfrv5Q2y5AghfcF2GmfAoCj_3XjGtEdgXuQWTqxQut4WXXH6PrIU9ImTtfuoGVmtiqVHg/s1600/meeting+room.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 210px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Lj2lUNBn08QWxcSSlwY9c7jnehWX_NvWPX5QVNf1cOro1u-aCChNBMSsmY8Tx-CD7lfrv5Q2y5AghfcF2GmfAoCj_3XjGtEdgXuQWTqxQut4WXXH6PrIU9ImTtfuoGVmtiqVHg/s400/meeting+room.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604406372251627010" /></a><br />I was talking this morning about Faith — how it is always about choices, but more importantly, about how those choices are <i>specific</i>.<br /><br />For Jesus, for the first disciples and for all the brave souls throughout the ages, faith is and was a courageous choice <i>for</i> God. Today that’s <i>us</i>. We are the brave souls of our own age. Faith changes our lives, and <i>our</i> changed lives <b>make all the difference</b>.<br /><br />I would be lying to myself and to you if I didn't say up front, transformation <i>hurts</i>. Some choices will limit our movement and require dying to self. As much as we may fight this notion: Faith was never intended to be easy or casual.<br /><br />Our retreat this year comes on the heels of Easter. Something truly “magical and revolutionary” happened that first day. It transformed maybe what? At the most, say 100 lives. Then those believers told others, and pretty soon… a movement began. That movement sent evangelists to the far reaches and that produced a wonderful array of gospels, letters and stories.<br /><br />Now it also produced a steady and tragic stream of power struggles, scheming bishops, beheadings and burnings, The <i>Inquisition</i>, heresy trials, European history marked by warfare and torture, and now, today in our own time, church wars for our right to declare other people wrong. For many denominations, even ours I’m afraid, Religious <i>Conten</i>t is what we fight about. God didn't call us to be consumers of religious content. And even though Mt. Angel has a lovely gift shop full of wonderful things, Christianity isn't about consuming religious <i>products</i>. And Christianity is especially not about consuming content that someone <i>else</i> created.<br /><br />Christianity is about transformation of our lives. It’s about sitting with a blank screen of your own life and creating something, as best you can, and offering that something to God. It is about dreaming and imagining, working and worrying, serving and loving – making a difference with life.<br /><br />Faith isn't something we can download to watch or to play. Faith is something we have the audacity to embrace, knowing it will compel us to become a “new creation.”<br /><br />So as we come to the end of the Easter Octave we must remember: Easter Christianity is about people submitting their lives to the love and will of God. It is about receiving and giving mercy. It is about putting down weapons, or tethers, winning each day some small victory over greed, learning fresh each day to love our enemies, (and if we have no enemies at hand, to love those who annoy us.) It’s about showing up each day to join God's never-ending push for justice and peace.<br /><br />Easter Christianity takes courage.<br /><br />Courage, like love, is a decision, an act of the will. It’s not the absence of fear… no, Courage sees all the reasons to be afraid — from bad numbers in our checkbook and our parish enrollments, to bad leaders to bad enemies to bad luck. Courage is not the absence of fear, but the mastery of it — courage decides to "walk through the storm with our head held high."<br /><br />John’s Gospel says: <i>The Word was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. </i>(John 1.10-11)<br /><br />We can choose to be like that… not to accept him. But rather than reject Jesus’ radical call, I think we want to go deeper. We want to know the Word that has come into our world. We want to accept him. We want to know why Jesus came for us and what it is, if anything, we should be doing about it.<br /><br />We want to submit to God — first by discovering what those words mean.<br />I like to think of myself as an open-minded, change-affirming believer, and yet I sense that the Word is way more radical and disturbing than I allow for, not to mention more enlivening and focusing.<br /><br />In Luke it talks about John the Baptist’s willingness to submit his own agenda to God’s:<br /><br /><i>John answered all of them by saying, "I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. "</i> (Luke 3.16)<br /><br />Life is filled with sadness. We don’t admit that to each other very often. Beginnings require endings. Within the joy and zest of life is always the salt of tears. The stories about John the Baptist speak of a fundamental truth:<br />Much had to pass away for Jesus to emerge. His coming brought watershed moments to a battered yet proud nation, to a religious establishment that probably was a lot like ours today, to people in one village after another, to a group of followers and family, and to himself.<br /><br />For Jesus to emerge, much had to end, and those endings were difficult. John's situation epitomizes the trauma: think of it: he had the brass ring almost, people from all walks of life responded <i>eagerly</i> to his hard work, some even hoped he was the messiah… and now he must step aside for another.<br /><br />Can any of us really know who or what died in us yesterday in order for today to arrive? Or the joy that we haven't yet fully accepted, for fear of the watershed it signals?<br /><br />We think of faith as a supplement to life, something new and wonderful that we add to what has gone before.<br /><br />But in fact, faith is a watershed.<br />(Watershed: an important point of division or transition between two phases, conditions)<br /><br />It is an ending. It is a time of things passing away. It is roads diverging and our having to decide. While that choice might bring great joy, it also brings much sadness. Our willingness to accept that sadness says something very real about our faith.<br />It’s difficult to be a Christian.<br /><br />John said Yes in <i>his</i> watershed moment. Many say No. (Not only no, but <b>hell</b> no.) No more watersheds, no more change, no more pain of loss, no more sadness.<div><br />Still, the watersheds keep appearing. For there is no other way onward. Life always requires death.<br /></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-15697470706266344392011-04-30T23:19:00.010-04:002011-05-06T16:36:57.441-04:00Oregon Associates Retreat 2011 #2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMPJMpnzUYbnlcnJ9ZHs8Cg2h33yKHZ-Ih38D3BwIGerOClZH3IZp0hOb4wWTZdcj14kVreyUy-eSG0-5i7XY_h0foP23ANluSzvHC_xHgBXdAeVdtQkKTCcmvbuNSBL7JC7Aqw/s1600/guesthouse-porch-700px_000.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMPJMpnzUYbnlcnJ9ZHs8Cg2h33yKHZ-Ih38D3BwIGerOClZH3IZp0hOb4wWTZdcj14kVreyUy-eSG0-5i7XY_h0foP23ANluSzvHC_xHgBXdAeVdtQkKTCcmvbuNSBL7JC7Aqw/s320/guesthouse-porch-700px_000.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601587579120057682" /></a>It's <i>difficult</i> to be a Christian. Looking up, down, out, in, looking at those we love and especially at those we <i>don’t</i>, looking at things ending and things beginning. <div><br /></div><div>Nothing will get better for us until we <i>embrace that difficulty</i> and do the hard work of following Jesus through the <b>specifics</b>. To look for God in daily life, is to open the door, to step into the flood, to see what God sees, and then to decide whether to care. That decision to care or <b>not</b> is a defining moment of faith.</div><div><br />Take Morality For example: It’s sad: we live in <i>immoral</i> times. Not one of the Ten Commandments is widely in force. Graven images are common, especially in church. The Sabbath, no matter if yours is Saturday or Sunday… the Sabbath is <i>the</i> prime shopping day. Murder is carefully defined so we can allow for all kinds of ways to kill each other and still get away with it. And Coveting—well, that’s the heartbeat of advertising. Stealing and dishonoring are common. Bearing false witness is an Internet art form. </div><div><br /></div><div>It would be funny except immorality hurts real people. At the level of an actual marriage among regular people, adultery can be devastating. Most marriages won't survive it.</div><div><br />And then there's money. We live some no-man’s land between grace and greed. No wonder Jesus told us to “love one another.” We can do it. I know Jesus' commandment – “love one another” – is within our power. We just aren’t very consistent.</div><div><br />Our Creed may encourage generalization, but the way Jesus taught suggests that "I believe in God" isn't enough. It needs to be, "I believe in God enough to submit my <i>will</i> to God <b>today</b> and to make this next decision with God in mind." Or, "I believe in Jesus and will follow his teachings and his model as I greet my family this morning, as I take my part in the workplace today and as I walk home tonight." I keep saying it. Faith is <i>about</i> specifics. It isn't enough to declare a general intention to be faithful. Faith manifests in specific decisions: Decisions about allocating time, managing money, responding to people, dealing with needs, monitoring our own personal morality.<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Shallow religion is easy. Go to church, enjoy what you can, make a token commitment, keep your motor running. See God as a friend, Jesus as a kindly shepherd. Buy a cross, put a Bible on your desk. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Going deep in faith… changes <b>everything</b>. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Not only is it uncomfortable because A: we don’t <i>like</i> change, but B: because it takes way more effort and time. As God's fullness comes into view, the old ways of <i>doing religion </i>don’t work. Going deep in faith means that all those rich, deep and troubling nuances of Jesus become pretty disturbing. The real Jesus challenges us, holds us accountable, sets an <i>impossibly </i>high standard for ethical behavior. He demands openness and giving up of control. I don’t know about you, but that strikes terror in <i>my</i> heart.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Deep is dangerous. Shallow may be dull and lifeless, but it’s a whole lot safer. It takes <i>trust</i> to go deeper in faith. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Deep water happens everywhere, and our ability to swim in it comes and goes. We can be capable one minute and incapable the next. We make wise decisions, then dumb decisions. Not even the most perfect, seamless resume can hide the painful reality that we are flawed creatures. We hurt the ones we love, we squander opportunities, we fail. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Jesus told this parable: <i>"A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none.” </i>(Luke 13.6) </p><p class="MsoNormal">This is our relationship with God. Few of us, not even nuns, spend our days in fervent prayer. Even the most diligent Christians have jobs, families, duties as citizens. Most of us also treasure “down-time.” God knows we are distracted. </p><p class="MsoNormal">God waits in patience for us to remember who we are as children of God or, to use Luke's metaphor, as fig trees called to bear fruit. At some point, push comes to shove. We either live into our true identity or we slip into delusion and spiritual amnesia. We give or we take. We love or ignore. We serve others or serve ourselves. We bear the fruit that God created us to bear, or we take up space and yield nothing that is worthy. </p><p class="MsoNormal">At this point, to follow Jesus' parable, God makes one more attempt to get our attention. If that fails, God moves on. God doesn’t smite us, but God may lose hope in us. We have tried God's patience, and now God will turn to others. It would be a bleak moment when we realize God has finally stopped <i>looking for us</i> to bear fruit.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Jesus said, <i>“So the owner said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?'” </i>(Luke 13.7)</p><p class="MsoNormal">Christian leaders were reshaping the reality of Jesus within years of his death, adapting his teachings to their own agenda, concocting words for him to have said, portraying God as whatever they wanted God to be. In their hands, Jesus went from anti-establishment prophet to ultra-establishment figurehead, from peacemaker to warrior, from subtle teacher of disconcerting parables to a partisan judge vowing death to the Church's enemies. The Jesus who loved everyone became filled with hatred, and his open circle became a closed hierarchy.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> What, then, are we to make of a parable that portrays God as indignant and determined to hold creation accountable and Jesus as an advocate for patience – not infinite patience, but “one more year”?<br />If you visit ten different churches, you’ll hear ten different takes on this parable, each one tailored to its congregation. They will range from God's determination to hold us accountable to gentle images of an ever-patient friend. </p><p class="MsoNormal">On the one hand, Jesus' parables deliberately leave room for many different understandings.On the other, we need to <b>hear</b> what Jesus actually said. The distracted shouldn't listen for a God who waits patiently for them to pay attention. The prosperous shouldn't seek a God who rewards the elect. The oppressed need more than a God who is on their side.</p><p class="MsoNormal">At the center is the Jesus who actually <i>was</i>. When we find his authentic words, they sound like “tough love” in Luke's parable. God expects us to bear fruit. Jesus bargains for us, but only for another chance, not for a permanent exemption from accountability. </p><p class="MsoNormal">There is <b>life</b> in that reality. Only you can know where you stand in that cycle of patience and testing. But Jesus' parable assures us all that the moment of reckoning does happen. God comes “looking for fruit,” and either finds it or doesn't find it. </p><p class="MsoNormal">These may be harsh words this morning, but I think we <i>need</i> to be pushed and stretched. (Take exercise. I hate to exercise. I quit at the first sensation of "the burn," and as a result I just get flabbier.) If we consider the pain of growth <i>wrong</i> and blame and punish those who caused it, we make no difference.</p><p class="MsoNormal">If our <b>faith </b>makes no difference, what's the point? </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-79742644599397446572011-04-30T20:36:00.009-04:002011-05-05T13:26:15.866-04:00Oregon Associates Retreat 2011 #1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31cMv_cvoUgapKgdd44t653ddlBHFG8NfEHUBgqnUnvkCOFCtLsbdMFHaPC0XCH5pDyf-bOA-QuJgvZeJv0p8EZGo-aDLiG9mp2ogw5uqLFoReigVJ-bnexaWDHudKUTZ-2eckQ/s1600/handsto+receive%2526blessLR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi31cMv_cvoUgapKgdd44t653ddlBHFG8NfEHUBgqnUnvkCOFCtLsbdMFHaPC0XCH5pDyf-bOA-QuJgvZeJv0p8EZGo-aDLiG9mp2ogw5uqLFoReigVJ-bnexaWDHudKUTZ-2eckQ/s400/handsto+receive%2526blessLR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601555463054240434" /></a>The theme for our time together this weekend comes from a sermon I heard earlier this year. The jist was this: Through God’s abundance we’ve been given so much… and two hands to hold it. <div><br /></div><div>We have received and can continue to receive every day, but <i>only </i>if our hands are empty. If our hands are still holding on for dear life to those blessings, there’s nowhere to put the new ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>The message of Jesus never much emphasized the receiving part… but he always spoke to the giving part. So <b>we</b> must learn to let go, to give what <i>we’ve</i> been given away. Thus the theme: hands to receive and hands to bless. <i>Simultaneous</i> receiving and blessing… that’s become my personal goal.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” </i>(John 2.3-4) </div><div><br /></div><div>Jesus made an assumption. In that moment when he replied to his mother, <i>before</i> he acted, he was relying on his preconceived notion of his time and what it would look like. He was tethered to a sense of timing. I can relate to that, can’t you?</div><div><br /></div><div>We're all tethered to something. I don’t notice it in the always-<i>on</i> Internet world of New York, but I have become totally tethered to the Web. Free wifi in airports and hotels is important to me. Others who are not now, and will probably never be, internet users, are tethered to something else: yesterday's ideas or yesterday's systems. </div><div><br /></div><div>It doesn’t really matter whether it’s wi-fi, or cars, or traditions, or world-views, roles, privileges – If you take them <i>away</i>, we feel lost. So this story of the wedding is a perfect story for us, to help us let go of our own tethers.</div><div><br />Our tethers don't define us. They might help us function and make us feel useful. But in God's economy, dislocation is often essential for stepping forward. Losing our grip on yesterday's assumptions and assurances is critical for doing what God wants today. </div><div><br />“Dying to self,” as Jesus commanded, isn't <i>just</i> about letting go of bad habits and self-centered ways; it's also about leaving behind those <i>good</i> things we thought we <i>knew</i>, things we worked hard to attain. It means putting aside old stories in order to claim God's new story. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some theologians believe Jesus knew it all, had a perfect plan for his short three-year ministry, but this passage from John suggests he discovered his purpose and identity along the road. To do that, he had to let go of his own yesterday.</div><div><br /></div><div>The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of Jesus cutting his tether and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <i><b>God</b></i> name the hour. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think we want faith to be important, but too often it ends up being the ultimate add-on to life. We get an education, get the job, get the family, get the toys, and then we want to get faith. We get everything we want in life, and then we get right with God. Seems like a pretty good deal. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then we discover the truth. The path to God goes by way of loss and bondage, not by accomplishment… by letting go, by keeping our hands empty. </div><div><br /></div><div>We enter a wilderness, <i>not</i> a comfortable place. We hunger and then are fed. We fail to see and then are shown more. We feel lost and then are found. </div><div><br /></div><div>We stand naked before life, not the heroes we wanted to be, not the flawless stars, and then God asks us to come closer to a tomb that is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">empty</i>. Empty of everything except God's mystery. Our plans for the day are shot. Our dreams for life prove hollow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Have you ever noticed that when we read the Gospels, Jesus is often <i>busy</i> (as in occupied, needed, pulled, demanded, pushed). But Jesus is never in a <b>hurry</b>. Is it possible that we can change the way we live, not by addition, but by subtraction? </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe this weekend we can practice being empty. Take some time to think about the things that clutter your hearts and minds: write them in your journal.<p class=" The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of shedding load and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <b style="></p><ul><li><i>Do you need to be in a hurry?</i></li><li><i>Do you need to impress those around you? </i></li><li><i>Are you dissatisied with ordinary days and gifts of grace?</i></li><li><i>Are you preoccupied with all that's left undone?</i></li></ul><p></p><p class=" The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of shedding load and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <b style=">When our identities are defined by what we do or have, or earn, or strive for, or <i>require</i> in order to impress, we have everything to lose. Maybe this weekend we can work on losing it.</p><p class=" The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of shedding load and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <b style=">Paul Tillich tells us, "You are accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not seek for anything. Do not perform anything, do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted." If that happens to us, we experience grace.</p><p class=" The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of shedding load and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <b style=">His words are a reminder that we can live and choose and commit <b>"from acceptance" </b>and not<b> "for acceptance."</b> I'm not doing any of this (Sabbath, prayer, rest, reflection, renewal) to impress anyone or earn stars in my crown in heaven. Life is full. This life. This moment. This relationship. This conversation. This encounter. The sacred present begins here.</p><p class=" The miracle at Cana was more than magic with water. It was the miracle of shedding load and moving on. He lived his own eventual counsel: let <b style="><br /></p></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-13035899269440405172011-04-24T01:00:00.000-04:002011-04-24T01:00:07.476-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz_bIXQOCAJgoLZWQ_j1ApVJ6QmFJouW00yHKulT4v4qSy1AwzHwZL-DvgzcXadN2nBhyiIePprp50E2U2QrtUSHDrJ2AqHSZVzLY_lAqITmT4b12-uwvWf1RkLySLQhafBw5Tg/s1600/EasterLR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz_bIXQOCAJgoLZWQ_j1ApVJ6QmFJouW00yHKulT4v4qSy1AwzHwZL-DvgzcXadN2nBhyiIePprp50E2U2QrtUSHDrJ2AqHSZVzLY_lAqITmT4b12-uwvWf1RkLySLQhafBw5Tg/s400/EasterLR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598942132143691570" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">A Blessed Easter</span></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-6623659575653341342011-04-23T14:30:00.002-04:002011-04-23T14:30:50.589-04:00waiting...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-P7kMxptlV1zNVkAIiBHVQ1vXjat1QWX613AN7sSx7GduDb2QjbSdLA4VbZsihcQ1F_zFpE2A7ZNxgUx6hlY4sFjP8B5ILJSvkozGOlNQVgeCvxCghnefvHaVO3itrIQjN1uhQ/s1600/HW9LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-P7kMxptlV1zNVkAIiBHVQ1vXjat1QWX613AN7sSx7GduDb2QjbSdLA4VbZsihcQ1F_zFpE2A7ZNxgUx6hlY4sFjP8B5ILJSvkozGOlNQVgeCvxCghnefvHaVO3itrIQjN1uhQ/s400/HW9LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598848227866869266" /></a>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-22760126544872940772011-04-22T10:06:00.000-04:002011-04-22T10:07:05.608-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ePxHgaDVPeuTxwp4NMSbWgP1HAZ-BqxHFQc9CUrMkC4JuuRa839WaghxrIlDeCyy0IAj2xg1oJZXUN_qFABhFSts4gn5qlP59cRHhtYXv27nkWBPVkip7u2zchOFpoCCFu1Bug/s1600/GF1LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ePxHgaDVPeuTxwp4NMSbWgP1HAZ-BqxHFQc9CUrMkC4JuuRa839WaghxrIlDeCyy0IAj2xg1oJZXUN_qFABhFSts4gn5qlP59cRHhtYXv27nkWBPVkip7u2zchOFpoCCFu1Bug/s400/GF1LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598409192119513218" /></a>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-75977648258325448342011-04-21T08:39:00.002-04:002011-04-21T08:43:46.309-04:00a new commandment<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9BF3oOAJX9fjbsibhe8Lo90o-1SSXZRtd2ycQWsr_HEsMPJrZtkH7BAO-ams5ZaXti470S8jIcs527IufxACLg8MvbOF3HxCqu8C3CGrpBoNm1QUi7G2C6BZ1XYJB2VBOc6TGw/s1600/HW8LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9BF3oOAJX9fjbsibhe8Lo90o-1SSXZRtd2ycQWsr_HEsMPJrZtkH7BAO-ams5ZaXti470S8jIcs527IufxACLg8MvbOF3HxCqu8C3CGrpBoNm1QUi7G2C6BZ1XYJB2VBOc6TGw/s400/HW8LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598015636504914514" /></a>Radical, wonderful, and even <i>more</i> difficult than the original ten that Moses received from the hand of God... because in truth, we don't love <i>ourselves</i> well enough to love one another. <div><br /></div><div>But Jesus did not say love one another as you love yourself... he said love them <i>as <b>I</b> have loved you</i>.</div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-23448203105288889582011-04-20T12:41:00.003-04:002011-04-20T12:50:42.136-04:00waiting...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMeZnriq4VasqDV7xt7voTgEk0wOd7DnjZjM5tU2p-XI3vMT_dJTsau4Ubvy8b9sp3FSKbVi5BlQZEpDKftyfHyShY4IsMl3XhGRPq1z-IEWQVQBXctGbFXDYK8YLiU2WE9Txiw/s1600/HR8LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWMeZnriq4VasqDV7xt7voTgEk0wOd7DnjZjM5tU2p-XI3vMT_dJTsau4Ubvy8b9sp3FSKbVi5BlQZEpDKftyfHyShY4IsMl3XhGRPq1z-IEWQVQBXctGbFXDYK8YLiU2WE9Txiw/s400/HR8LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597706872102054610" /></a>Holy Week feels <i>long</i>, maybe the longest week in the year. <div>When I think of my own sense of foreboding, the helpless waiting... I can't help but wonder how much more painful it would have been for Jesus those last days before <i>his time finally came.</i></div><div><i><br /></i><div>What, it's only Wednesday? Tomorrow the downhill slide begins... with a feast. We've been in silence, keeping a vegetarian diet this week, but tomorrow evening we'll have meat again, and talk at supper... in honor of the <i>last</i> supper Jesus ate. Then we will all attend the Maundy Thursday ritual at one of the nearby parish churches.</div></div><div>And Friday we will fast. Feasting and fasting... living and dying... joy and sorrow. It's almost too much to bear.</div><div><br /></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-15470470753790489632011-04-19T13:32:00.002-04:002011-04-19T13:45:23.289-04:00glory?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OgIBRViBFZaCEfjOpaUkC7RO95kmzG4xT1EzYPx_tabrCWcfgK_AGL6P_GNfq9VYZAVc2QJvnSzlxJI5xhCWVa1RkEv8UHJqZHLnyI-ZPBRlSn7EorjrmmElGHHOuBWXj15joQ/s1600/HW7LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9OgIBRViBFZaCEfjOpaUkC7RO95kmzG4xT1EzYPx_tabrCWcfgK_AGL6P_GNfq9VYZAVc2QJvnSzlxJI5xhCWVa1RkEv8UHJqZHLnyI-ZPBRlSn7EorjrmmElGHHOuBWXj15joQ/s400/HW7LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597348927353479826" /></a>Explain the <i>glory</i>, God.<div><br /><div>Every year it's like this. I get closer to Good Friday and my doubt overwhelms my faith. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am not big on pain... mine or anyone else's. I am especially not big on <i>unnecessary</i> pain, and this whole <i>Jesus died for my sins</i> thing puts the blame on <b>me</b>. Me... and you... and every other sorry member of the human species. Yes, I understand how amazingly mind-blowing it is to worship a God who stooped to endure human form... to live and die as a human being. But some human beings die peacefully in their sleep. (At least that's what we tell ourselves.) Or they die quickly. Most of us do not linger for hours in agony, with other people watching our every sigh and groan, waiting for us to die so they can be "right". </div></div><div><br /></div><div>I really do hate this week.</div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-10008910941862957122011-04-18T13:26:00.006-04:002011-04-18T13:57:59.690-04:00anointing<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7EeO0ga2GC4wPD7WAmGma3G4vQWhyU_X_nPJ7JEdIwoefILJpQcZB6z38b1WmuAWpk41krXecoWprmf6Udt9yB-Pa5_tugIrwO6Sb0SFyYoh_tyPYVodL4pbp92WuBrE1Hwe8dQ/s1600/HW6LR.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7EeO0ga2GC4wPD7WAmGma3G4vQWhyU_X_nPJ7JEdIwoefILJpQcZB6z38b1WmuAWpk41krXecoWprmf6Udt9yB-Pa5_tugIrwO6Sb0SFyYoh_tyPYVodL4pbp92WuBrE1Hwe8dQ/s400/HW6LR.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596976932808903586" /></a><br />Two Gospels tell the story of the anointing of Jesus.<div><br />In Mark's Gospel It is two days before Passover, the host is Simon the leper, the woman is not named and the oil is poured on Jesus' head. In John's Gospel, it is six days before Passover, the host is Lazarus (recently raised from the dead,) and it is <span>Mary</span> who produces the expensive perfume and pours it on his <span style="font-style:italic;">feet</span>.<br /><br />This is the kind of inconsistency that drives Bible scholars crazy... conflicting versions of what is apparently the <span>same</span> story. The truth will always lie somewhere in between. The point of the story, of course, has nothing to do with head or feet or when or where... or maybe even who.</div><div><br />And the point can change for us with each new reading, depending on what we need to hear.<br /><br />This is the difference between the <span style="font-style:italic;">living<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> Word of God and words on a page that are chiseled in stone, with one point, one interpretation.<br /><br />Living with elderly sisters gives me a new spin on this story. Jesus said "You will always have the poor." He might just as well have said "You will always have emails to answer or dust bunnies to sweep." For NOW, be kind in the moment. Honor the interactions that express love, patience, service. You will not always have these opportunities.</div><div><br /></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14664095.post-63630843479987159492011-04-17T11:21:00.005-04:002011-04-17T11:37:15.336-04:00palms and thorns<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLu8ZaY3sNrfKGBGf7_2BOU5esdgBpzuKojdbX_srklQQNm1UHwuKv0FLhtNXQag_-0_7XDBo9J_tzfUpnigd4i4okgM5LewXQfhyGp6SRVgKElADgqkB8asEyInCWvFAU2-Cvw/s1600/Holy+WeekLR.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLu8ZaY3sNrfKGBGf7_2BOU5esdgBpzuKojdbX_srklQQNm1UHwuKv0FLhtNXQag_-0_7XDBo9J_tzfUpnigd4i4okgM5LewXQfhyGp6SRVgKElADgqkB8asEyInCWvFAU2-Cvw/s400/Holy+WeekLR.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596576735938873954" /></a><br />Palm Sunday again... <div>and again we take the roller coaster ride of Jesus' last days on earth. <div><br /></div><div>The older I get the more it means, maybe because I have loved more and lost more, loved more and won more, been beaten up and betrayed, and yes, on occasion resurrected. I have heard the call of a God who makes <span style="font-weight:bold;">no sense</span> by earthly standards and yet in every natural way... from the creation of the cosmos to the fresh shoots in spring to the dying of the stalks in autumn... makes perfect sense. </div><div><br /></div><div>We are here to live <i>and</i> die, to be joyful <i>and</i> to suffer, to win <i>and</i> to lose. I have come to believe that those things are not two sides of a flat coin but integral parts of the multi-dimensional whole. Join me in the wild ride.</div></div>Claire Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10772846937495834349noreply@blogger.com1