two coins

We gave a retreat this past weekend, a good experience. It was nice that we knew most of the folks from previous retreats. And we used the story of the widow's mite, which has been a favorite. Here's some of Heather's dramatic reading based on that story:

God gave me a good life. Oh, you could say it was a bad one, people do say that; what do they know? I'm alive, not dead. I still have joy, in a cup of cold water, in the face of a young man. I have something to give to God, even if they say it's nothing. My husband is dead, and of my two daughters one died in childbirth and the other ran away. And yes, it hurts. It always has and it always will. God hurts, too. It doesn't help to have gold or stars or incense, I think, when you have children who've run away, who are living their own nightmares and still will not come home.

I wanted to give him something. I wanted to give him something, to tell him thank you, to tell him I know, to say please, please do all you can for my Johanna and I know you love her too. And this is all I have, and he knows that; if he allows it I should be getting a little more next week, but until then I don't know what I'll eat, and he knows that too. It was the only way I could do it. I tried and tried to save a little up, but I couldn't. So I had to, I had to do this for him. He'll take care of me, I thought. He's taken care of widows before.

But now I don't know. Now I feel ashamed. The temple shines with gold in the sun and I have come to give him two pennies. Two pennies, as if they were worth something. As if I was doing something important, as if me and my sweat-stained dress were something God wanted to see. What will they use my two pennies for, in this temple? To buy a rag to wipe the floors with? What will people think of me, seeing me drop them in the offering box?

The beautiful lady in her silk dress is still ahead of me, walking slowly between her servants under the colonnade, gracefully. She turns aside a little, to avoid a group of dusty men listening to some kind of teacher. They lean in, all eyes on him; his face is hard and angry as I pass by, and I hear him saying “they eat up widow's houses and then they pray long prayers in front of everyone—”


(The whole reading can be found here: "Two Coins")

rose's poem

I rush out of the house finely dressed in my sunny day best
And run straight up the trail to the holiest place in the meadow
Sheer grace all around me
I look up at the heavens so gospel true blue
Oh it's here that I come when I'm wanting to pray
When there's something needs saying to you

In my wildflower church I kneel down with my knees in the dirt
Full exposed to the heavens, no props no pretensions
Just this feeling I get and these thank yous to set on the altar

Yes this is the place where I gather my blessings
And make my confessions of passions inspired
By meadowsong choirs and moments transcendent and true

Oh give me this day a full measure of beauty
Of sun in my heart and joy in my duties
And let all who I meet share a taste of this sweet
Nectar communion with thee

"going to church"

I've noticed over the last few months that my views about "going to church" are changing. Part of it had to do with not having very good options for church around here. And part, I suppose, has to do with thoughts about being a father and about what I'll teach and expect of my son. I haven't been going to church much lately, and it feels okay so far. We have our weekly small group going again, a time for singing and sharing and prayer and communion, and that has been more satisfying than most of my church experiences.

Now I know there are many good reasons for going to church, and that people can get a variety of good things from church participation. I've often had good reasons to go in the past. I usually haven't connected much with the worship or preaching, but I have valued meeting people there, and still do from time to time. I don't think I'd try to discourage anyone from going, if they're finding good experiences at church.

I'm just starting to think that it shouldn't be seen as a necessary part of following Jesus, as it usually is. If you have a good reason for going, then go. But if you can worship or pray or learn or find fellowship or serve God better in other ways, then feel free to choose those instead.

Ironically, one of the main reasons people use to insist on church attendance is one of the main objections I have to churches. We are told to go to church because the body of Christ is corporate, a union of many, and we cannot be Christians alone. True enough. But what does that have to do with going to church? The equating of the body of Christ with one of our many divided human organizations called "churches" is one of the main falsehoods taught in church. It's easy enough, if we attend for a while, to see it's not true. A church is always a mixed bag, falling far short of what we most deeply desire. But if we truly believe in the corporate body of Christ, and faithfully look for the unity and divine hand at work in the one Body, then we'll be shown how we can find support and serve God with others beyond the narrow confines of the churches. Without having to accept the hypocrisy and church politics and money squabbles, just like we find in every other human organization. If the body of Christ is what we're looking for, then in church is probably not the best place to see it. Some of those same people will reflect Jesus much better in other places, on other days of the week.

But, as I said, there can be good things to be found in church, and good reasons to go. I just don't think it should be automatic, or required for Christians. Jesus said, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them." Two or three. That can be found in lots of places besides a church.

visitors from afar

We had guests with us all last week, friends that Heather met when she was in Nigeria years ago. Katherina (from Germany) and Israel (from Nigeria) and their two little kids. They have a small orphanage, with seven more children besides their own. The kids mostly came from very poor families, often because the father was killed. They received a gift to travel to the U.S. for a several month sabbatical and are staying with various friends around the country.

So it was a lot more interesting around here last week. They really enjoyed the fresh vegetables and learning about the farm. And we liked talking with them about how God has provided for them and their ministry. It was a real pleasure to have them with us. In a way, I saw it as providing a retreat, supporting them in their care of very poor and vulnerable children.

We also got a little more used to having a baby around (one of their daughters is just one). Ours should be here in less than two months.

"like a child that is quieted is my soul"

We've started doing evening prayer, hoping to make it a habit before the boy arrives. Here's what we're using (it's got some nice child, mother, father imagery in it, too):

(PDF version here)

"scarcely are they planted"

From Isaiah 40:

It is God who sits above the circle of the earth,
and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers;
who stretches out the heavens like a curtain,
and spreads them like a tent to live in;
who brings princes to naught,
and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing.

Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown,
scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth,
when he blows upon them,
and they wither,
and the tempest carries them off
like chaff.

After elections, or any change of leadership, our attention often turns to the new people in charge. Maybe hopefully, maybe in frustration. But I think we should turn our eyes to those going away, and remember God's promise.

holy is your name

We're thinking of trying evening prayer together regularly and I'd like to use this song by David Haas, based on Mary's magnificat (Lk 1.46-55). It's sung to the tune of the Scottish folk song "Wild Mountain Thyme":

My soul is filled with joy
as I sing to God my Saviour:
you have looked upon your servant,
you have visited your people.

Refrain:
And holy is your name
through all generations!
Everlasting is your mercy
to the people you have chosen,
and holy is your name!

I am lowly as a child,
but I know from this day forward
that my name will be remembered
and the world will call me blessèd.
Refrain

I proclaim the pow'r of God!
You do marvels for your servants;
though you scatter the proud-hearted
and destroy the might of princes.
Refrain

To the hungry you give food,
send the rich away empty.
In your mercy you are mindful
of the people you have chosen.
Refrain

In your love you now fulfill
what you promised to our fathers.
I will praise the Lord, my Saviour.
Everlasting is your mercy.
Refrain

a big night

"To eat good food is to be close to God."

That's a line from one of my favorite movies, Big Night. A few weeks ago we had dinner at the Chestnut Street Inn (where Heather is now gardener) and they were serving the fantastic menu from that movie. One of the great food movies. I've been meaning to write about the meal, because it was quite an experience. And free, given for all Heather's work in their garden.

The dinner was seven courses. The first was crostini with herbed fresh goat cheese, roasted pepper, crispy kale and balsamic. Then a spicy minestrone soup, followed by seafood risotto, parmesan risotto, and pesto risotto (made with arugula Heather grew for them), arranged in three stripes like an Italian flag. Next, an unusual dish, timpano, which means drum. It's made with hard boiled eggs, meatballs, mozzarella, genoa salami, marinara sauce and penne encased in a very large pasta blanket, baked and then turned out and sliced. My favorite course was the Wild Alaskan Sockeye salmon with moscato grape sauce. And then cornish hens with parmesan roasted asparagus. In the movie, this was followed by a suckling pig, but our hosts wisely skipped this course. The dessert was tiramisu, made with ladyfinger biscuits soaked in coffee, smooth and creamy mascarpone cheese, and chocolate. I'm a little amazed we made it through it all (any more would have sent us to God). Really great food.

This means a lot to me because Heather really enjoyed meals like these when she was growing up in France. Here, it's hard to find anyone cooking like this, much less afford it on what we live on. And yet God has provided this treat for her anyway.