Exceptional!

One of the privileges of parish ministry is sharing in worship; in our community the Wednesday Noon Eucharist is a delightfully calm and casual time together (followed by a delightful bring-your-own lunch, with much sharing and laughing)

This past week, our Gospel for the day was from the beginning of Mark 6, where Jesus is rejected in his hometown. verses 4-5 read: Then Jesus said to them, ‘Prophets are not without honour, except in their home town, and among their own kin, and in their own house.’ And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.

It can be easy to focus on the relative weakness in the context; and how from this pericope Jesus and his disciples leave and bestows authority on them to engage in their shared ministry.

Except….

Except that the perception of weakness isn’t accurate.

Jesus is not weak! God is not diminished by a few folks who aren’t able to wrap their minds around what the person they thought they knew really is.

To suggest that the Christ was without power is more, to me, an indication that the people in his hometown were unwilling to receive the gifts of power that Jesus was offering.

For if Jesus was truly powerless, he would have done no healings there. But instead we are told “EXCEPT” that he performed miraculous healings before traveling on their way.

This is not a small or insignificant “except” – and I encouraged our Wednesday group to lean in to the “except” when they see it. For sometimes the “except” is actually “exceptional”, to those who are willing and able to receive it.

What a privilege to have the faith to live in the “except” moments that God gives us – the tiny moments of beauty, the life-changing moments of grace, the life-long expressions of love.

May we have eyes to see and ears to hear the exceptional Good News that God is proclaiming to us!

Happy Groundhog Day!

Screengrab from Episcopal Church Memes

Happy Groundhog Day!
Rodent-alia? Feast of the Earth-Pig?

With roots in the Germanic lore, the Pennsylvania Dutch brought the idea to North America – that animals could predict the forthcoming weather, depending on their appearance and/or if they see their shadow.

It’s become a fun tradition, be it with a badger (Germany), bear (Hungary), or groundhog (North America); hinting at winter’s duration lasting a potential four or six more week – regardless of location or clime! Sitting right between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, we know winter is going to continue - and can choose to embrace it or not.

Since the early 1990’s, the concept of Groundhog Day has been more strongly connected not to the Imbolc or Candlemas traditions, but to the film starring Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell – in which one character gets caught in a time-loop, reliving February 2 (almost) interminably.

While the philosophy of the film tends to be secondary to the comedic aspects, it’s a fascinating concept to see how the individual reacts and responds to his circumstance; from taking advantage of no long-term consequences, to depression at no advancement, to desperation, to finally recognising he could use his situation to try and better the world for others around him. It’s only when he allows himself to be open to love that the time loop ceases, and he awakes to February 3rd.

So this Groundhog Day – we can choose how we want to live. We can be intentional with the choices that we make – they can reflect the person that we want to be; they can demonstrate the power of goodness and love to the world. They can be whimsical (like searching for a rodents’ shadow) or serious (like helping the vulnerable in our community).

Whether we look for a shadow or for light; whether we consider the film an amusement or a philosophical consideration – it is Groundhog Day. Why not make the most of it – whatever *it* may be – and do our best to loe freely - and make the world a better place.

Pieces of Happiness

I like puzzles.

I have a ‘puzzle table’ set up in my main room, I have a puzzle mat, and puzzle-piece trays, and several shelves of puzzles. Some are abstract designs, some are thematic, some are cartoons. Some came as gifts or carry memories, some are larger than others, some are substantially more difficult.

A few weeks ago, I started a new-to-me puzzle that looked intriguing – a labyrinthine design of solid white and green. There’s no texture, no shadow, no nuance, the piece shapes are not all unique. The lines are straight with few identifying features. It’s a doozy.

As I said, I like puzzles. I only recently returned to the practice of having a jigsaw puzzle on the go at any time. I enjoy the time spent doing puzzles as a chance to listen to an audiobook, or contemplate some thoughts of the day. It’s relaxing.

So when the green-and-white puzzle became more of a burden than a joy, I realised I wasn’t going near it. I gave it a few weeks of sitting out, with several frustrated attempts, before I admitted that this was not accomplishing its purpose.

So I put it away. Maybe in the future I’ll want to try it again; maybe I won’t.
And I pulled out another puzzle, with an easier design, which went together surprisingly quickly. It brought me joy, it engaged me, it was overall fun to complete.

And it brought me back into the practice of puzzling; I’m keen to start on the next one from the shelf. I have no regrets about packing up the labyrinth; not everything is going to be a good fit every time.

Life can be like those puzzles: sometimes challenging, sometimes exciting, sometimes entertaining. My thought is that when the pieces of life aren’t fitting for us, it’s okay to shelf them for a bit – and focus on finding things that will feed us.

Connections

I like playing word games; I do a daily crossword, my Scrabble game is well used, I play some online games over my morning coffee.

A big part of the fun for me is not just the success of completing such a game, but of the strategy behind it; in a crossword it’s the puns and wordplay, in Scrabble it’s the placement of letters for maximising score, in wordle it’s adjusting the probabilities of letters and combinations to discover which precise word is “the” answer.

One of the online word games I play is “Connections”, where a grid of 16 words has to be sorted into 4 categories of 4 words each. They can be simple or involve wordplay or puns, and the categories do not relate to each other. The challenge comes from not only needing the general knowledge in any category to understand how the word fits, but also in discerning the wordplay and multiple meanings or applications of each of the words. It can take some time, and often more than a little mental gymnastics!

It's not unlike a mingling of people; trying to find ways that they connect. Some connections are simple; all the dog lovers in one grouping, all the folks who can name football players in another. Some connections are a bit more tenuous, like shared history experiences like education or travel or workplace. Some are even more difficult to connect; like finding a third point of connection, or interest group.

The insight of Connections (the word game) is that whether I can see it or not, there are connections that exist; not unlike when we come together in community. Sometimes what we think will be a Connection turns out to be only 2 or 3 words linking up; this doesn’t negate their connection, it just means it doesn’t fit within this particular grid. This too can be like community; where we can appreciate that we’re not meant to be best friends with everyone, accepting that we don’t have to fit entirely and perfectly with all places and people. (Some of our neighbours are lovely people, we just don’t want invite them to dinner.) And sometimes, the connection is evident and easy to see, and flows naturally; at other times the connection takes some work to understand; like our human relations.

The analogy could go on; but I know the joy of being part of a community as it seeks out connections between people, knowing that if we commit enough genuine interest in one another, we can find ways to connect, to communicate, to share, to grow.
I see this every time our churches gather; where newcomers are welcomed in, where long-established friendships continue to thrive, where we continue to strengthen our bonds with each other as we engage in our various ministries. Where no one is alone; for we know from the start – like the 16 individual words – that we are part of something larger and stronger, something that ensures we are just waiting for the next connection to be made.

My New Year Beatitudes

A prayer of thanksgiving for those who have recently blessed my life.

Blessed are the pew smilers: who sit in the pew and nod, encouraging me even in the tired sermons of a low Sunday.

Blessed are the fluff-finders: who remove the (seemingly unending) dog fluff from my sweater.

Blessed are the phone-answerers: the friend who answers my call even when busy, because even 30 seconds of connection brings a smile to both our faces.

Blessed are the collaborators: who commit to working together, trusting me to share in a task too big for any of us to do alone.

Blessed are the safe-spacers: who share a trust to be entirely vulnerable about life’s realities.

Blessed are the name-users: who intentionally interject my name while we are chatting, as though it is a sacred word.

Blessed are the complimenters: who seek an honest positivity to elevate each conversation.

Blessed are the picture-senders: who share their life with me through unremarkable daily  images, or remind me of a long-standing joke with a humorous GIF.

Blessed are the patient, who know my lack of phoning is because life has happened, and time zones are unforgiving.

Blessed are the joy-seekers: whose focus inspires all around them to also seek and share joy.

Blessed are the laughers: who go out of their way to share in happiness (and don't care that I'm loud!)

Blessed are the texters: who send messages that convey love and kinship, regardless of distance.

Blessed are the pausers: who pause after asking how I am today, because they really want to listen to my response.

Blessed are the Zoomers: who share lengthy chats full of joy, even when it’s been too long (and when hugs just can’t happen).

Blessed are the huggers: who reach out their arms to ensure that love is felt.

Blessed are the gracious: who don't care about the tumbleweeds of dog-hair on the floor, because they have come to see me (not a perfect house).

Blessed are the noticers: who see subtle nuance and inquire gently about the change.

Blessed are all my friends: whose very presence makes the world a better place, and inspire me to be the best version of myself.