Pentecost Year A A Change of View

The tsunami of 2005 swept a baby hippo away from its mother down the Sabaki River and back onto the Kenyan coast.  Ecologists in Lafarge Park found the hippo, whom they named Owen, bonded with a hundred year old tortoise.  The rangers reported that the two swim, eat and sleep together; the hippo followed the tortoise exactly the way it would follow a mother.

I can imagine this was an odd site—a baby mammal being looked after by an old male reptile.  It may stretch our ideas of motherhood and interspecies cooperation, to see them living together, and the baby hippo receiving the nurturance it needed to survive the tragic tidal wave that killed so many people and animals.  It shows the resiliency of both animals and the creativity inherent in our animal nature for survival and cooperation.  We don’t know how much the tortoise sensed the trauma of the hippo and helped it; we don’t know whether the hippo really knows how different this mother is.  All we know is that they together survived against all odds in being together.

As this story may surprise me, I am also surprised by people as I get to know them.  One older woman of my acquaintance, Anne, I first met when she was in her mid to late 60s and I was in my 30s.  My first look at her saw a ditzy, forgetful widowed lady who had a hard time remembering dates of meetings she kept asking me to attend. She would tell me the night before that a meeting was scheduled the next day, far too late for me to reschedule myself to attend. It was nearly two years before I was able to attend the group she kept inviting me to, and I began to be skeptical about the group itself because of her lack of ability to ask me in a timely manner.

Finally I attended the group of women, and I was blown away by their spiritual maturity and the depth of their faith. Anne surprised me most. In the first meeting she told about many of her activities to improve interfaith relationships, work with girls in poverty, and many other ways she gave so freely of her time to help others.  My first impression of a ditzy woman was replaced with a new-found respect for her faith, her spiritual depth and her commitment to bringing peace and justice to the world.  Not only did my opinion of her turn around, I was so moved by her and the group that she later became my sponsor in joining the group. I might add that it took us nearly two more years for her to get my paperwork and information straight—Anne had not changed, but I learned to look past her lack of organizational skills to the woman of faith underneath, and to treasure her. I now claim her as one of my dearest friends.

The surprises that the Holy Spirit has for us make us take another look at things we can’t understand, people we dismiss, and a world that is mystery.  The Holy spirit descended on a group of people who could not understand each other’s language and suddenly they see what the other is talking about.  The Holy Spirit opens up ears to hear, hearts to listen. 

Have you thought of the Holy spirit as very mysterious?  Its workings are not clear to me. But when I think of the Owen the hippo and my friend Anne, I think of the spirit moving those boundaries and definitions that mark our territory, that break down fences that bind us in tight places, and open doors so that a fresh breeze can bring in new air.

Like me, has the working of the spirit helped you get over yourselves and the list of people, places and things you don’t like and those you do? The spirit’s work can change our minds about ourselves, make us more loving, forgiving and accepting.

When we pay attention to the Holy Spirit, we may find ourselves doing things we never thought we would do, being more than we could ever imagine we could be, and loving with greater depth and care and commitment than we have ever loved.  The spirit opens our ears to hear new language. The spirit breaks down the barriers that separate us—the barriers of gender and age and race and religion—and makes it possible for us to embrace the mystery of God’s grace.

In Tibet, sherpas live in the valleys under the shadow of Mount Everest and lead expeditions up the mountain. They know their mountain very well. But even these sherpas who traipse the sides of Mount Everest only know the mountain from their own valley. When they are shown pictures of the other side of the mountain as seen from other valleys, they do not recognize it as Mount Everest.

Through the Holy Spirit, God shows pictures of the other side of the mountain, the side not seen, the mysterious and wonderful side not experienced before.  Pray that we all may come to know the other side of the mountain, the side not seen, to enter into God’s mystery, that we may be open to the grace God has for us today.

Easter VII A The Community of Faith

Easter VII A  The Sunday after the Ascension

In last week’s gospel we heard Jesus tell his disciples he would not leave them orphaned, and we began to reflect together on what it means to be in a community with each other.  Today, this gospel account continues with Jesus’s prayer that God would protect us so that we may be one as God and Christ are one.

Again we hear this theme of all of us as a community together in Christ.

What does being a community of faith mean?

A community of faith does differ from a regional community.  While Belvidere is a community by virtue of its geographic location, our faith community need not be all in one place. Holy Trinity is prayed for by all the churches of our Diocese in the cycle of prayer, just as we pray for them.  My clergy colleagues keep me in their prayers, as I am sure your friends and relatives pray for you. In this sense, while Holy Trinity is a small church on the corner of Hurlbut and Main, it is also one of thousands of other Episcopal churches throughout the country, and millions of other Christian communities around the world. Our parish members relate to each other here, and yet we relate to this much vaster thing called Christianity.  I have this experience of our larger church whenever I attend deanery meetings with the other clergy of northern Illinois; I had this experience of connection to Episcopalians around the country when I attended the National Episcopal Health Ministries conference two weeks ago.  It made me feel part of something much bigger to know what churches are doing for the health of our congregations.

So, our community of faith is at once this small gathering, and at the same time, connected in prayer and liturgy and faith with a whole world beyond us.

In general, our world seems bigger in the 21^st century.  Some of us are connected with people who live in faraway places and are able to have instant and low cost conversation over email or cell phone with them.  Our news tells us of events around the globe nearly at the moment they are occurring.  We are the most connected in the history of the world, but my question is: how deep is that connection?  How deeply does Facebook and Twitter and email allow us to share the most important things? No one can hug a computer.  And while technology allows us to know more about each other, I find myself wanting more intimate connection than emails can allow.

In comparison to connections in the world, connections among the faith community root us deeply.  In these connections are touched the very heart and soul of our lives. In the faith community, connections are led by the Spirit of God, and in Christ’s name power comes in healing prayer, in intercessing for someone who needs God’s loving arms, in sharing bread and wine, and in passing the peace. 

The community of faith is made up of all who have been adopted into God’s family through baptism.  This family loves each other, as well as fights with each other, makes up, and goes on in love.  Like any family we have our good days and our bad days, but nothing can remove us from the love of God in Christ.  Christ promises that in this family we will never be orphaned.

Supporting each other in the family of faith takes all of us together.  In the baptismal and confirmation vows, all who witness are asked to uphold the new members.  In marriage and the new holy union vows, all who witness are asked to support the couple in their life together.  In the liturgy we say together, the creed, the confession, as we receive the words of absolution and pronouncement of blessing.  There can be no church without all of you.  The priest cannot celebrate Holy Eucharist without a congregation.  Baptism, confirmation, marriage or holy union, and burial are all meant to occur in the context of community.  All participate in these crucial moments of our lives.  And even when visiting the homebound and sick I try to bring parish members with me to remind the person being visited that they continue to be part of this faith community.

Have you ever arrived at church only to find a few people here?  It may feel like you don’t belong to a community when the pews seem more empty.  Attending church bolsters not only one person’s own faith but the faith of the whole congregation.  Each person shows up not only for their own edification and spiritual nurturance, but for every other person’s as well.  When one voice joins with another voice, then a chorus begins to sound—a chorus of voices saying the creed, the Sanctus and Amen of the Eucharistic prayer, the Lord’s prayer, and praying after communion.  One voice can praise God, but together a chorus makes a joyful noise in praise.  Together hearts are lifted higher than a single voice can possibly lift.

But being one in the community of faith does not mean we agree with each other; it means we do not just tolerate but celebrate each other. Without a bass and tenor and alto and soprano, the chorus cannot sing nearly as well. We need each other’s voices together, to make the beautiful music of love that Christ requires of us, and for which Christ’s prays for us.

Claim your place in this community of faith.  Know that your voice counts, your presence bolsters the parish, your prayer makes the congregational prayer stronger, and your talents create what this community should celebrate every day.