Horses and riders, let them go!

Israel in Egypt, G. F. Handel

Recitative (tenor)

And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances. And Miriam answered them: —  

(Exodus xv: 20, 21)  

Soprano Solo and Chorus

Sing ye to the Lord, for He hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea.  

(Exodus xv: 21)  

It has been awhile.  My sharing with you ended on the Second Sunday of Easter.  It has been busy. The post Easter mystagogy, that turning toward the word and living the Resurrection, has been quite busy and wrought with distractions.  Glad to have a minute to share some thoughts.

I left the story with the encounter with the risen Jesus.  With Miriam, we sang, “I will sing to the Lord, He is gloriously triumphant. Horse and chariot are cast into the sea.”

However did they come back, chasing me through the Red Sea of my life?  Those horses, chariots, and charioteers are persistent and pernicious. Didn’t  I take care of this on Easter?  It hasn’t even been 40 days.

To reconnect with  the Easter message, I went back to read various commentators who wrote on or around Easter.  Many wrote that we live stuck in Holy Saturday.  This has not settled into my heart as true. 

Consider, the apostles are in the upper room, likely sitting Shiva, telling stories of their beloved friend. Wrapped in their rent garments, they consoled each other and prepared themselves for a life without their teacher. 

Was it enough for them to have an experience of the risen Jesus, not once but twice?  Is it enough for us?

I suspect not.  I suggest that it is not Holy Saturday that holds us with a false sense of safety. Rather, we live in the upper room of the post Resurrection experience.  Time and time again, we are visited by our risen Friend and in our comfort with the memories of the past cannot understand the greeting, “Peace; Do not be afraid.” 

Holding to the past, keeping our fears alive, choosing to live sitting shiva, rejecting peace keeps those chariots and charioteers alive.  How quickly we have forgotten the ecstatic energy of Easter morning.

We believe that we are transformed by the grace of resurrection in our baptism.  The time is now to put those chariots and charioteers to rest and say yes to the ecstatic peace that overcame Miriam.  Our call is to leave the upper room and live the life of the transformed and be Miriam.

On this first night of Passover, don’t miss a chance to “Sing unto the Lord….he has triumphed gloriously!  Shalom.

Meeting the Risen Christ.....part 1

I was fortunate to be asked to post a response to the question "How Do I meet The Risen Christ?" for Call to Action.  Check out my response http://cta-usa.org/easter-reflections/

Sing Ye to the Lord, He Hath Triumphed Gloriously

Alleluia! He Is Risen!

Have a wonderful day celebrating the day of our rebirth, the amazing day of our salvation. Welcome the newly baptised in the life, death, resurrection and glory of Jesus.  Special  blessings on my dear friend, Christopher.

Take a moment to read this compelling sermon by Pope Francis.  Are we Peter?

Alleluia!  Peace!

Owen

http://whispersintheloggia.blogspot.com/2016/03/on-easter-night-this-is-foundation-of.html

Sing Ye to the Lord (Bairstow) 

Bairstow chose verses from Exodus as interpreted by Scots poet Robert Campbell: 

Sing ye to the Lord,

For He hath triumphed gloriously.

Pharoah's chariots and his host

Hath He cast into the sea.

Mighty victim from the sky,

Hell's fierce pow'rs beneath Thee lie

Thou hast conquer'd in the fight,

Thou hast brought us life and light.

Now no more can death appal,

Now no more the grave enthral,

Thou hast open'd Paradise,

And in Thee Thy Saints shall rise. 

Alleluia! Amen,

The Life of Service

I have been unable to move from the images of Pope Francis in the midst of the refugees celebrating the liturgy of Holy Thursday.  The simplicity of the ritual, the clarity of message, the lack of theological and doctrinal discourse did not distract from the clarion call to be present to those at the margins. As the reserved hosts were removed from the assembly with nary a swing of the thurible without pomp and procession, the reality of the transformational, sacramental grace of the eucharistic commnity was in clear focus.

They story was told in the eyes of those present.  I am not sure they understood a lick of Italian.  It is not important.  The expression of the eyes of the men and woman clearly expressed their depth of pain and experience of welcoming love.  

I remember these "eyes" from my experience in the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Working with what we lovingly called "those old time heroin addicts" and the many variants of the fringe people we saw daily, taught me many things about these eyes.  Rich or poor, housed or homeless, I saw these same eyes as we reached out to attempt to meet them in their many places of brokenness.  I can never forget them.

Now I see these "eyes" on the faces of those in places not regularly identified as "the fringe." Brokenness, alienation, fear, terror and grief have taken hold in our world and drive all of us into a life that looks ever inward for solutions and comfort.  In these most holy days, Jesus teaches us the our happiness and healing is found in service to each other. A healthy interior life is essential. Jesus did spend 40 days in the desert. He now teaches us that this is not enough. The seeming modern obsession with a nearly narcissistic self completion blinds us. When we can have the courage to step outside the protective mote of "pomp and circumstance"in our lives and serve, we will live.  

Imperfectly, I join Father Francis is emptying the mote and being open to the grace that comes from the margins of my life and others, with the life of the "yes" to Jesus.

We Sing Hosanna in the Highest Heaven

Hosanna to the Son of David  (Weelkes)

Hosanna to the Son of David: blessed be the King that cometh in the name of the Lord; Hosanna! Thou that sittest in the highest heavens; Hosanna in excelsis Deo!

Palm Sunday and Holy Week.  There is so much written about these sacred days. It is awkward to bring my thoughts forward for sharing.  I will and must as I stay true to my struggles as a Catholic in the Diaspora.  These are the days when we all should feel most welcome in the community of faith.  I do not. They are the days that define our faith and bring our baptismal mandate into focus.

It is painful to be apart.  These are days filled with prayers and rituals I know so well. I have lived them, led them and prayed them my entire life. 

As I read the lectionary selections for today, I was again stunned by how powerful and beautiful the passion account of Luke really is.  Uninterrupted by pseudo theatrics, the story is my story and the story of my baptismal entry into the “life, death and resurrection” of Jesus.  I am relieved to not have the story interrupted by endless fracturing of the text between various “players”.   This may have been the best, right solution for a musical setting of the story which, as it was, a precursor of the oratorio and opera; a miracle / mystery play of sorts.  Why has it persisted into modern times?

My single greatest objection to this format is simple.  The congregation is relegated to the position of shouting “Crucify him.”   Wait a minute. I did not crucify, Jesus.  I am crucified WITH Jesus. 

The crucifixion is a result of the “happy fault… necessary fault of Adam…..to ransom a slave God gave His Son.” Paul teaches us clearly that by baptism we are one with Jesus in the crucifixion and by baptism gain our place in heaven.   Why do we hold onto to this archaic representation in word and ritual that keeps the People of God the wrong place, denying their baptismal right and holding the blame for crucifying Jesus? 

Of course, in our life, we sin.  We turn away from God’s love. We do not love ourselves, as we should in order to love our neighbor.  We do not live and proclaim the kingdom. However, our sins do not condemn Jesus to die.  Only God the Father could ask Jesus to die;  a death  that could only come of Jesus’ own free will.  This is so  in order to free us from the sin of Adam in the Garden. 

Wouldn't it be a somewhat more genuine approach to have share the banquet and, then as a family, recount the story of our salvation as a story, carefully told as you would share the most tender moments of your family heritage with the children of the household?   

In truth, we sing “Hosanna to the Son of David” throughout this week. It does not end with the reading from the book of Isaiah.  We walk with Jesus  expressing our deepest gratitude for him being one among us and willingly, in a most human moment, saying yes to God the Father for our salvation. This is the reason Jesus came to live as one with us. In this he knew our struggle to say, “Yes.”  We die too with him as do we rise and sit in the highest heaven. "Hosanna in the Highest."

Yearning with the Psalmist

Like as the hart desireth the waterbrooks: so longeth my soul after thee, O God.

My soul is athirst for God, yea, even for the living God: when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?

My tears have been my meat day and night: while they daily say unto me, Where is now thy God?

(repeat: Like as the hart desireth the waterbrooks: so longeth my soul after thee, O God. When shall I come to appear before the presence of God?)

(Psalm 42:1-3)

I come to this point in lent and the yearning for connection with the great Love of the Universe becomes overwhelming. I look around and see brokenness, the stealth and not so stealth political pandering to fear, frustration with the end of civil society (whatever that is/was), destruction in the name of hegemonic purity, and all out greed at every level. I mean, can we talk about the desert?

Much has been written about the prodigal son, the Holy Year of Mercy and the Pope Francis’ call to the sacrament of reconciliation. Why does it fall short? Why are we not reconciled and finding the promised peace?

I wonder if our focus on reconciliation with the ultimate source of Mercy is incomplete. We read of the father welcoming the errant, prodigal son. We are told in the Sacrament of Reconciliation that our sins are forgiven and we are again wiped free some sin. Somehow, the longing is not reduced.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is a sacrament of action.  It is not passive. The healing grace of this intense encounter with the Divine, charges us with action. It is not enough to say, “Well, that is over. I am wiped clean and can get on with my life,” or “I went to confession and now I am ready for communion.” I rather think that, now reconciled with G-d, we must go forth and live into reconciliation with the world and ourselves. Are we willing to be the father in the story of the prodigal son and heal the rifts in our lives?

Are we willing to heal and forgive the chasm that divides our heart, to forgive our personal failings and make peace with your darkest, most wounded self? As the reading from Origen is quoted in the Office of Readings, “Do not let the night and mist of ignorance steal upon you. “ Alas, we do. It is from this unspoken place that the Prince of Darkness takes hold and craftily hides our eyes from seeing, holds us back from living in the presence of G-d.

Reconciliation is an active process and the practice of this sacrament in the early church reminds us that we are reconciled with G-d  in the community. In my view, this cannot be fulfilled until we embrace our internal longing of healing and wholeness. We “love G-d” and we “love our neighbor as our self.”

The baptism journey is a vision quest of longing to love ourselves enough that we can love our neighbor without projections of our darkness that bring to life our deepest fears. As Origen continued in today’s selection, “So that you may always enjoy the light of knowledge, keep always in the daylight of faith, hold fast always to the light of love and peace.
I’ll let you know how I do with this overwhelming quest.

+++++++++

A side note for my friends and musical purists; finding a recording of this transcendent work by Herbert Howells was amazingly difficult. In most recordings the organ is barely audible. As a result, the rich harmonic texture that is evocative of the best of the US jazz/blues tradition is lost. Other conductors move too quickly to allow these colors to settle and become an impressionist painting. This is to my ear, the best of the lot. Unfortunately, the “fade” as an ending is not true to the original. You win some and you lose some.

For those that are interested, an essay by Eric Routley

Rocka My Soul

When the poor man died,

he was carried away by angels to the bosom of Abraham. Luke 16:22

Earlier this week a strange convergence occurred.  This line from Luke appeared in the lectionary text on the same day I completed viewing the Showtime series, “The Borgias”and saw the film “Spotlight.  There is much to be said about the juxtaposition of these two media events and the historical content they portray. This is for another day.  Today, I share my reflection on the the greater whole of the three and the important message they bring to the Lenten season.

The “bosom of Abraham,” that most cherished place at the table of eternal love.  This is place of rest, peace, and endless delight in the courts of the G-d of Hosts.  It is our promised inheritance as the baptized People of G-d. 

I cannot see these words or think of this spiritual without reliving cherished remembrances of my dad and me, an awestruck 4 year old, sitting at the piano singing this, my favorite in the “Fireside Book of Folk Songs.  As only a four year only can insist, we sang it again and again.  Occasionally, Joshua fit the Battle of Jericho provided contrast. Growing up is tough and the loss of innocence painful.  Those experiences of safety fade as we become acquainted with the world around us. Sometimes this transition is seamless. On occasion, it is very painful.

“The Borgias” and “Spotlight” each expose the rawness of this unwelcomed assault.  Old and young alike are subject to the excruciating pain of innocence lost, what was the hoped for place of safety became the locus of deception.   How does this happen?

African innocents asked the same question as their parents and tribal leaders sold them into slavery. The locus of safety, the haven of care was shattered. How could this happen?

Yet, through it all, these African slaves continue to teach us the lesson that can only be known to those who hold the promise of the bosom of Abraham.  It is joy that carries the day.  The ever-present joy of knowing that by faith we are promised a special place at the table of the eternal banquet.  G-d holds those who violently shatter innocence, betray trust, to account.  By baptism we live into the joy of knowing that the Kingdom of Heaven is ours and with Lazarus, we will thirst no more.

No room for sadness in this celebration. Rejoice in this season of renewal.

Rocka my soul in the bosom of Abraham

Oh, rock o’my Soul.

I may be weak, rocka my soul, but thou art strong, rock o'my soul.

I'm leaning on, leaning on, I'm leaning on his mighty arm.

Oh, rocka my

Rock o'my soul in the bosom of Abraham

Oh, rocka my Soul.

My soul is fed, rocka my soul, my soul is free, rocka my soul, 

I'm going home, going home, I'm going home, to live with thee

Oh, rocka my

Rocka my soul in the bosom of Abraham

Oh, rocka my Soul.