After Easter...

We have covered a lot of territory over the last few weeks.    Lent and the roller coaster ride of Holy Week where we enter Jerusalem full of hope and aspiration, only to witness death on the Cross.  Then came the big bang:  Easter and the Resurrection.

Over this time span, Christ has walked on the earth with us, breathed the air we breathe, shared our joys and suffering.  Up to Good Friday, we lived with Christ and watched him die on that day once and for all; facts on the ground attested-to through the Scripture, and very real and verifiable places that exist to this day.

It is Eastertide.  Since the Resurrection,  Christ remains with us, but his presence becomes more shadowy.  We “know” that Christ is resurrected.  But, he is not  yet departed from Earth.  He appears and disappears.  He walks through walls and has encounters.  Doubting Tom has been reassured. 

We are decidedly transitioning more and more into the realm of faith, now.   Christ’s worldly, fleshly existence on this earth is morphing from a direct experience of him as one of us; to a more esoteric, other worldly and entirely faith-based realm of existence.   One foot in the door and the other in the afterlife that awaits us.

After the upcoming Ascension, Christ will return to his eternal home.  We will be left with  memories of the experience of Christ in our living midst; the shock of his Resurrection; and  the final farewells and transition to his seat at the right hand of God, culminating in Pentecost.

While Christ will no longer be of this world;  he has left us the tool chest from which the Christian faith and Trinitarian theology could be formulated, codified and carried forward.  In the early years of the church, a creed developed, as well as liturgy and patterns of worship.  And of course of seasonal cycles and holy days to commemorate important messaging was packaged and transmitted forward to us.

We are on our own, now.   But well-equipped.  We can keep our own balance now as we spiritually journey onwards, following the footsteps of Christ both in this world and the next.  To be re-lived by each generation of believers.

In John, we hear a passage that encapsulates this concept, “And now I no longer in the world, but they [those to whom you gave me] are in the world, and I am coming to you.”   That’s us!

Look at the flowers, trees, plants and creatures that come alive, as if mirroring this amazing realization that was conferred upon us via our Jewish ancestors two millennium ago.

- James Harrison, St James Groveland

The Postlude

A message from the blog host:   Rev'd Susan is not available this week, you are in for a treat!  Ms. Sarah Brink, Director of Music found this blog by Pam Robinson (I have no idea who she is other than a musician and a pretty eloquent one) on how we perform and listen to music in church.  I hope you enjoy it.

What Is a Postlude?
  Does Anyone Listen?   Does Anyone Care
Unless an organist/pianist has the opportunity to attend and play at a congregation that stresses silence when exiting the sanctuary, they may unfortunately often experience loud talking, chatter, hustle and bustle of the congregation as people make a mad dash out the door after the closing "Amen." The postlude may become more like background music and as church musicians we may think or ask, “Is anyone listening?” This can be frustrating, but just because everyone is leaving doesn’t mean no one is listening. So how can we approach this particular situation?

•  Most importantly, we need to remember we are playing for God and the edification of his people. If the congregation leaves or stays in the sanctuary talking and socializing, the message that we convey is that we are still offering our best music to God. 


•  Postlude music should reflect the spirit of the meeting and should never be approached as an afterthought. If the meeting was quiet and reverent, the postlude music should also be quiet and reverent. If the meeting was jubilant and full of praise, the postlude music should also reflect jubilation and praise. I have found that when the postlude is chosen for its relationship to the theme or sermon of the day, there will always be a few people who will have their spirits uplifted and touched. Some may decide to stay and reflect on what has transpired or even come to the piano or organ console and share their appreciation verbally. 


•  If chattering becomes a huge problem, consider playing a more meditative, quiet postlude, it’s a great way to keep people praying and reflecting on what has just transpired. The postlude should function as the last musical commentary on the entire service. I’ve had many experiences where people have come to me said, “Wow…what a wonderful way to end the service” and then I hear them singing or humming the tune that was played.


•  Finally there is the personal part. It’s enjoyable to play pieces of music; it helps one stay in practice. It helps the musician develop more skill, whether it’s sight-reading, registration, improvisation, or some other skill. A postlude doesn’t have to be a mammoth 5-minute work by a major composer; sometimes only 1 or 2 minutes of music is needed. Believing in the words of the song you’re playing, and allowing God's spirit to work with you, causes you to play so that the people listening feel what you’re feeling. You can actually express your emotions through the way you play the song.

Remember, the postlude can be just as important as the prelude in providing ministry and in the sending forth of the people.

an article from Pam Robisonon - 

posted bySarah Brink, Director of Music, Trinity Haverhill

"Putting on" the breastplate of faith and love, or learning the rules?

A group of us from St. Paul's in Newburyport are traveling to El Salvador in July under the auspices of Fundacíon Cristosal to continue some mission work we began a year and a half ago. I'm privileged to be able to go along with our group. But, I never learned to speak Spanish: I grew up in the era when most public schools taught French instead.

So, lately I have been cramming to learn this new language. I'm using one of those total-immersion tutorial computer programs, and it's a really transformative experience. The last language I learned was the Koiné (Biblical) Greek I studied in seminary.  In that class we used a little black textbook full of grammatical jargon and lists of vocabulary words.

Fun grammatical fact to know and tell:  When Jesus said (Mark 1:15) "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news." the verb fulfilled is the written in in the perfect passive indicative tense.  Wow! How about that?

I can hear you muttering "Whoop de doo. Who cares?"  Who cares, indeed?  Maybe some Bible geeks care (I admit that I am a Bible geek), but these factoids of grammar don't have much to do with the life of the world, do they?

But this full-immersion Spanish curriculum I'm studying doesn't work like that. I'm a month into it, and I haven't yet heard one word of grammatical jargon.  Instead, I hear sentences and see pictures, and the program asks me to speak and write what I see and hear.  Amazingly enough, it's working: I'm starting to "put on" this new language. I'm starting to learn it without knowing anything about it. When I tune in Spanish-language TV I'm starting to be able to follow what people say.

Is there a lesson here for our journeys of faith?  Most Sundays we repeat the Nicene Creed in worship. Certainly, if we spend a lot of time unpacking those words we can learn plenty about our faith. If we're trying to figure out who Christ Jesus is, there's a lot to be gained from pondering over "God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made."

But, learning about Christ Jesus is not the same thing as experiencing his presence. Paul didn't write a letter to his congregation in Thessalonika saying "this is faith, and that is love." Instead he urged them to put on, and to wear, that faith and love.

That's what the Way of Christ Jesus is all about: putting on faith and love. When we do that, it's like learning the language from the inside out. It's about recognizing Christ in the people around us, and about growing into his full stature. Learning about our faith journeys is good, just as learning about a language is good. But living our faith journey together is VERY good.

May the peace of Christ that transcends all understanding guard your hearts and minds.

Ollie Jones+

100 Years

By The Rev. Susan Russell, All Saints, West Newbury.

Did you catch the celebration on Friday, April 20, of the 100^th anniversary of Fenway Park?  It was quite an event.  To begin, a door opened in the Green Monster and onto the field came former Red Sox players from about 80 of those 100 years.  They just kept coming, a great wave of outfielders and pitchers and 2^nd basemen, all wearing their own numbers on their jerseys, and moving to the part of the field where they had once played game after game in that uniform, standing there with their comrades.  Bobby Doerr and Johnny Pesky, now both in their 90s, were escorted onto the field, and Johnny, a native of Salem, wiped his eyes with his handkerchief for the entire presentation.  The crowd cheered a lot of them, the ones they recognized, and the only other sound as they came and kept on coming, was the music of the sound track of Field of Dreams.  “If you build it they will come.”  Yes, indeed.

I was reminded of what happened after the Sox won the World Series in 2004, that when they were interviewed in the locker room, after the champagne showers and all the revelry, every one of them mentioned the guys who had come before, who never got to see that day when the curse was finally broken and Boston was victorious.  Every one of those current players paid respects to the ones who worked so hard for it but never saw the day.  And that week a lot of fans bought those championship pennants and took them out and planted them on the graves of parents and grandparents who loyally followed the team and taught their kids to love the game, but never got to see the win.  My brother was among them.

It is such a good thing to remember those who came before us, to be mindful of what so many contributed to make the present day what it is for us.  We are not self-made, much as we might like to think so.  We build on top of the work of others.  Without their ideas and their development of them, without their foresight and careful planning, without the work of their hands, we would always be starting over again at the beginning.

It felt great to celebrate the players of 100 (well, 80) years of Bosox baseball.  We should think about those who have come before us in this life in all kinds of ways, and celebrate with gratitude the many ways they have enriched our lives and made them more enjoyable. 

In this way we celebrate the Communion of Saints.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!

Susan+

A Titanic New Life

 A number of years ago I picked up a bright hand-painted crucifix from Central America with a colorful Jesus painted on it, hands upraised. As I was packing up some Christmas gifts to send to my non-believing brother that year, on a whim, I tossed the cross into the box. A few weeks later my brother called to thank me for the gifts. He also noted, “Thanks for the picture of the dead guy.” The crucifix was foolishness to him so he was yanking my chain.

How many people look to the crucifixion and wonder what on earth Christians think they are doing to worship a “dead guy?” Because, of course, the story of Easter is that Jesus has risen from the dead. The story doesn’t end at the cross. The resurrection tells us we worship a living God, and not just any living God, but one that is stronger than death. A God who invites us to join into this resurrection life.

“For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” [1 Cor 18]

The piece we often miss, however, is that we have to go through the cross to get to resurrection. We need to die in order to live. We have to be willing to let go of safety and “that’s the way it’s always been” and boundaries that hold us back. We have to die to our old selves, our old life, in order to live in new ways.

On this 100^th Anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic (April 15, 1912), my husband and I took my 14 year old to see the newly released 3D version of the movie. There is a lot one can say about this powerful film, but I want to focus on the choices made by one of the main characters, Rose. The voyage was a transformative experience for her in some profound ways, to the point that at the end of the movie she chooses to leave the promise of wealth, prestige, a husband, and more. She lets all that die, in order to embrace the life that she was created to live. In fact, the only way she can really live, and not suffocate under the expectations of someone of her gender and class, is to let her safety nets go. Her relationship with Jack and then the sinking of the Titanic gives her both the strength and the opportunity to do this. She is resurrected into a new life.

Choosing death can seem a foolish thing, but not if that is the only way for transformation to happen. Jesus knew this, so chose the path of non-violence and death in the face of violence and empire. He would not collude with evil. Then with his resurrection on Easter morning Jesus transformed both himself and all creation. If he, a mortal, could overcome death, so too now can we all. And this new life doesn’t have to wait until our physical death, our new life begins when we choose to follow Jesus and live life as he modeled for us, and when we accept that we are loved unconditionally by a glorious God.

Stephanie+

Alleluia!!

     A clergy magazine once published a cartoon of a minister greeting people after a worship service. The sign in front of the church said, "Easter Sunday Service." While shaking hands with the pastor, a man said, "Preacher, you're in a rut. Every time I come to this church, you preach on the same subject."    Now that is not necessarily a bad thing.  Because it is on the resurrection story that the good news is built.  It is the foundation of our hope. 

       In the Gospel of Mark -  as it is believed to have originally been written - there is no gardener, no traveler joining two of Jesus’ followers on the road to Emmaus, no foot race to the empty tomb or encounters with Jesus in a locked room.  There is just this:  “He is no longer here.  Go and tell his disciples that Jesus will meet them in Galilee” and then the three women go running from the tomb in terror and amazement. 
      That young man in the white robe had a message for those who come to the empty tomb – a message for us here this Easter as we listen for the news of the resurrection… “Go to Galilee,” he says – there you will meet Jesus.   
      You who are called to follow Jesus’ Way – you go back home.  Go to the place where life is lived simply and fully.  Go to your work of carpentry, fishing and farming.  Get out of that idea that God has any interest grand cathedrals or church hierarchy and into the idea that nothing – no principality, no rule, no adversity can separate us from God’s love as it has been revealed to us in the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. Go to Galilee to meet the Risen Jesus.   It is in the midst of our very ordinary and common lives that the Mystery of God’s unchangeable love is revealed.   If you’re looking for Easter – if you are looking for resurrection, start where you are, in your common, day-to-day life. Start by noticing the faces of folks who mean the most to you. Start by looking and really seeing what you look at every day but don’t really see.   
      When I was little I lived in a small village in northeast Louisiana.  My mother kept 5 acres of flowers.  There was something blooming every day of the year.  But here is the thing.  It was not the flowering crab or the bearded iris that made the place beautiful – it was the masses of flowers and trees and bushes in all of the shapes and colors and sizes you can imagine.  God’s Kingdom is like that it is in the myriad of life’s gifts that God can be found. 
      But, we do not go to Galilee just to receive.  We go to Galilee to give also.  We go to show our love for God in all that we do and say.  We go to Galilee and that is where we live out our promises that we made at our baptism, to pray, to read scripture, to worship, to turn from evil and to turn to God, to love our neighbor, to seek justice, to respect the dignity of all, and to proclaim the Good News of God’s salvation.
      The Gospel of Mark does not give the clear command that we hear in Matthew of John.  Instead it sort of leaves it up to us to figure out what to do with this empty tomb – how to make the resurrection live in our lives.  But one thing is clear.  Jesus is going before us showing us the way. 
                Alleluia Christ is risen.  Happy Easter,   Jane+

The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia.

Holy Week

Did you ever see a movie or read a book for a second time?   The first time, one wrestles with the novelty, the unknown, the sequence of thought, meaning and actions.  The second time around, there is no need to concentrate on the story line.  One is freer to concentrate on nuances, shades of meaning, subtleties, word plays and other characteristics since the story line is known beforehand.

That is our starting point as we enter into Holy Week.  We know the story’s plot, laid out by the sequence of events reenacted on Passion Sunday, Holy Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter.   We know that we enter Jerusalem with exuberance and uplifted spirits, to be followed by the horrifying sequence of events leading to Christ being hung on a tree to die.  And we all know the happy and triumphant outcome that follows in our Lord’s rising three days later.

Time out!  Not so fast! As the Holy Week drama unfolds, we must straddle a gaping hole of death, suffering, and grief, before the blessed joy of Christ’s Resurrection.   

We must be immersed in an I-Max three-dimensional panorama of death and fear. It is beyond disgusting.  There are bones all over, the place reeks of death and putrid blood and body parts; dogs and vultures are feeding on the carcasses lying about. This depressing pit, Golgotha, is filled with countless shrieks of terror, torture and gore.  This is the place where the ruthless Romans torture any rabble-rouser, criminal and the scum of the earth to be nailed to trees to writhe in pain for hours, to be laughed at humiliated and to die in disgrace.  And then to rot!  This is a totally disgusting, scandalous, putrid and gruesome dump.

Good Friday! Death!  I sink to the depths of despair and existential emptiness as I listen to the last words of Christ, and the refutation of his entire ministry. I hear the hammer hitting the head of the nail; the nail that punctures and gores Christ’s tender flesh before reaching the hard wood of the cross to where he will be affixed so as to suffer a most excruciating death.   His last three hours are an eternity.  I am in abject despair.  There is no up or down, past or future, happiness and sadness; just emptiness, listlessness and paralysis.

Oh, if only we could “fast-forward” to Easter and the celebratory joy that we know is awaiting us once we get past this horrific chapter of the Passion narrative.  No can do!  We must remain for a while steeped in the deepest depths of death, scandal, terror and suffering first, horrifying beyond all comprehension.

I see, by extension, my own life—my past, present and future—conforming to the story line of Christ’s life with its ups and downs, joys and despair.  Death, mine and yours included, is the only looming certainty and this is what I am fixating on right now.   

Following this story line—yours, mine and that of Jesus Christ—provides the framework for being assured that whatever the roadmap of our lives look like, the end destination—a.k.a. death—will transition us to our sacred eternal home.   Like Christ, we will follow along, after death, just as we followed his footsteps during life.

In this post-Enlightenment world where “reality” needs to be verified and proven, the joy and reassurance that death is not the definitive last word to the story line—the Resurrection—is taken on faith.  Faith in the life hereafter is the climax and outcome of our jointly-shared the story line.  It is the Christian hope.  How amazing is that?

* * *

Recently, I had the honor to serve the Chalice to a parishioner in my church.  She was a week away from death’s door.  She knew it; cancer allows for this understanding to sink in.  Was she terrified?   She must have been as I am certain I will be when my time comes.  But, here is the thing.  When taking the Chalice to her lips, our eyes met.  Through the ravages of cancer and excruciating pain, her eyes were dancing with joy and celebration of the Eucharist.  Her spiritual bags were already packed for the journey ahead.  I could very palpably FEEL it.

This lovely parishioner passed away a week later.  Very saddened, I attended her memorial service. Her death was a painful loss; nothing takes the sting out of death.  Not even the comfort of knowing that death transitions to triumph and eternal peace. 

However, her joyfully-dancing eyes that last week, as she drank Christ’s sustaining Blood, testifies to the fact that she knew where she was going, prepared emotionally and spiritually.  And I take comfort having experienced and shared this insightful moment that reassures me she is now in a place where death is conquered and nothing worse can possibly happen to her, or any of us for that matter.   She is blessedly safe.

* * *

Next year, I will have a different experience and “take” of Holy Week.  But I know it will be under the same story line of our Christian faith and, by extension, our lives.   

Simply amazing as I gaze at that horrid Cross and the vacuous emptiness that surrounds it. 

James A Harrison