Sunday of the Passion

A parishioner wanted to talk about the disharmony she feels on Palm Sunday. This is a woman who finds the liturgy of Holy Week to have great meaning–the walking day by day through the Scriptures and prayers leading to Jesus’ passion. Why, she asks, read the Passion Gospel on Palm Sunday?   Why not sit with the events of the Gospel of the Palms alone on this day? Why hear the long Gospel, too, as if we’re assuming folks won’t be back at church again until the Sunday of the Resurrection?  Why do a week of Gospel reading in one day?


I’ll admit I’ve thought some of the same things. I want to walk each holy day with the integrity of that specific day. But this year, for whatever reason, I’m good with the circling back of the Holy Week stories–of previewing the whole week, then hunkering in for a day by day. 

True. I know there are a slew of folks who will come to church today (and I’m so thankful for each and everyone of them) who I won’t see at St. Mary’s again until Easter Sunday.   It may be good for them to hear the whole story today.  But that’s not the point.  

I think we all need to be reminded where Holy Week begins–with the crowds, like me, who want a Savior they’ve created to their own liking. We need to hear the juxtaposition of the popular Jesus with the mystery and the truth of the Savior we have who is vulnerable unto death. The one who is always obedient to God’s will.  


So today we have the palm cross. 

So today we also have the nail.

I will hold both in my hand, and this Holy Week I pray that Jesus will get me nearer the truth of who he truly is, and not the comfortable image I imagine him to be.   Comforting, yes.  But not necessarily comfortable.








A blessing for the final days of Lent


I met with my spiritual director yesterday. Of course we talked about how Lent was going. I’ve said before that being raised in the Baptist tradition, tithing my money to God comes easy, but Lenten disciplines, a later in life practice, is always a challenge. 
I’ve learned by years of starts and stops, of twists and circle backs, that my day by day through Lent is best defined as a rhythm. What surprises will God have in store that will take me to new places of mystery?
So on this day of Sabbath, as I prepare myself to walk beside Jesus leading our dear parish through Holy Week, I ponder the rhythm God has given me. 
To light incense and pray. 
To read poetry. 
To dance healing prayers for a friend with cancer. 
To remember to rest. 
To write notes of love. 
To be thankful for all of my stuff as I give away those things which no longer give joy. 
To pray with an icon. 
To travel on rabbit trails while reading Scripture. 
In the Rule of St. Benedict, we remember that everyday we begin again, and so I offer a blessing for all who walk these final days of Lent, written by a woman whose writings have been a path for me these Lenten days:

May every road
you travel
draw you deeper
into the heart
of God
May each moment
of the path
open you to
eternity
May God be
your guard
and your guide
in the way
that you 
And may time
turn well for you
and spiral you
always home.

Written by Jan Richardson ((c) janrichardson.com) 

Prayers like incense


I made a trip to my mother’s to celebrate, belatedly, her 89th birthday. Our wonderful associate, Katie+, took the evening service on Sunday so that I could arrive in time for dinner with the bonus of my youngest brother being able to join us.  His birthday was a week ago, so we had a double celebration which, of course, included pie.



When I’m at my mom’s, I like to get up early and make her special coffee (this time beans from my vacation on the Georgia coast), and clean out the dishwasher while the coffee brews.  That way my mother will get up to the smell of good coffee and a kitchen ready for the day. 


The bonus these past two mornings  is that I got to see the sunrise. 



My mother lives in the country (my daughter, Lisa, calls it The Farm), and the acreage includes a small lake.  Standing outside in the quiet of the beginning of the day, how can one keep from praying?


The verse that shimmers up is this:


Let my prayer be counted as incense before you,
The lifting of my hands as an evening sacrifice.  Psalm 141.2


The morning sacrifice, too. 


I pray for those God places on my heart. 

For the young man from the parish who was driving home, and a pedestrian crossed in front of him on the freeway. 

For the St. Mary’s staff who will be meeting without me today. 

For all of those walking through Lent.

For the gift of time with my mother. 

For family. 

For friends. 

For the many who are afraid. 

So many more…….


Soon I’ll spend a lovely morning with my mother. 

We’ll have oatmeal bread baked from my grandmother’s recipe. 

Spring is coming, and we’ll spend some time in the yard. Mother is sending me home with bluebonnet seedlings. 

We’ll chitchat. 

We’ll have lunch of her homemade soup, and then I’ll, sadly, but filled with love, drive home. 


As the sisters of Our Lady of Grace sing, Until we meet again, know that you are loved. 







Traveling home

The last full day on Tybee yesterday, and it was a cold and gray day. The decision was made to have a nearly non-driving day (Friday is my Sabbath, after all).

The morning was lolled with coffee and card-making
In the afternoon, I put on all of my layers and went on a brisk beach walk which was followed by a labyrinth prayer walk near the marsh. 

On the short drive back home, my best friend and I noticed a plea for food at the local food pantry. Blessed with such abundance and filled with gratitude, we stopped at the local IGA and filled up our grocery cart with cereal, juice, canned fruit, peanut butter, and macaroni and cheese. What better way to thank God?

This morning, with temperatures near freezing, bundled up once again, there was time for one final Tybee time beach walk. Prayers were said sitting beside the water before returning to my little cottage to prepare to return home. 

As I sit awaiting my plane at the airport, I prepare mentally to celebrate the third Sunday of Lent in the morning back at St. Marys. I have been unoccupied for the past four days.  I have been recreated. I have been on vacation, and it has been very good. 

And now it is time to be occupied with all the God calls me to do in the quotidian. For the people who will join me in serving at St. Mary’s tomorrow and everyday I am truly thankful.