Palms to Passion

Palms to Passion

Holy Week, which began with Palm Sunday two days ago, begins on a high note of celebratory praise. From the gathered crowds thronging the roadside (some scholars believe Jersualem's population on that day in history increased fivefold from 40,000 to 200,000) we hear shouts of "Hosanna," "Save us," "The Messiah comes," "The Son of David." 

It is a raucous, jubilant event filled with faces young and old, with bodies agile and aged, with personalities ranging from subdued to explosive. As happens with a crowd of any size, the energy ripples through the crowds and returns back again and again for an even larger arc of explosive connection. (It is the very kind of crowd that we are currently prohibited from being part of due to the deadly epidemic confronting us).

Jesus enters Jerusalem, hailed a a king, but adorned and transported like the humble servant he understood himself to be. He is not riding an armored steed, but seated upon a braying donkey. His entrance is not smooth and flowing; it is halting, roughshod, according to the whim of a typically recalcitrant animal.

Even his humble entrance, though, cannot quell the passionate embrace of the people. They imagine their generational longings fulfilled, their days of oppression ended, their anticipated liberation finally within reach.

And so Palm Sunday ends, and Holy Monday and Holy Tuesday come. They are quieter days, but filled with percussive spiritual energy. Jesus cleanses the Temple, curses a fig tree for not bearing fruit; that evening Mary anoints Jesus' feet with expensive oil and her tears. On Tuesday Jesus debates with religious authorities in the Temple and issues his famous discourse about the end of the age on the Mount of Olives.

From the peak of public acclaim his work continues. As Jesus pulls together the final details of his earthly ministry, we sense a shift taking place. His day of immense popularity has gained the attention of those who have sought his demise for more than three years. For his opposers it is time to take action to bring this peasant-popular prophet down, once and for all.

And so Holy Tuesday is followed by Holy Wednesday, which in some circles is called "Spy Wednesday," because it recalls the night when Jesus is betrayed by Judas for thirty pieces of silver. By the time Jesus and his disciples assemble to share together a last meal, a profound shift has taken place. The air once filled with "Hosannas" and acclamations of praise is increasingly, hour by hour, heavier. Darker clouds are moving in as the moments of Jesus' passion begin to take form.

Most years -- I daresay in all the years of my life -- Holy Thursday (aka "Maundy" Thursday, from the Latin word for "command," as in Jesus' command to his disciples to love one another) is a sacred time of congregational gathering. We come together in the shadows of the evening, light candles, hear God's Word, sing contemplative music and then share together in the Eucharist. We observe the Lord's Supper, leaving in the quiet of the night to brace ourselves for the brutal barbarity of "Good" Friday and the tomb-silenced hush of Holy Saturday.

This year we will not gather face-to-face. We will, however, gather together in virtual reality via Facebook Live, using A Liturgy for When We Cannot Meet Face to Face. 

Theologically we understand that Holy Communion is intended for the physically gathered sharing gifts that have been consecrated in the context of in-person worship, so "virtual" communion is not possible. 

However, in alliance with our Methodist heritage, we may celebrate together in a kind of Love Feast celebration. This liturgy allows us to do so across the cyber world using our own source of light (candles or lamp), bread and water. It allows us to connect with one another and with God, quenching our basic hunger and thirst, while allowing us to anticipate earnestly the next opportunity commune around Christ's table with bread and juice, face-to-face with one another.

Please join us on Thursday evening at 7:30 via Facebook Live (our Boonsboro UMC Facebook page) to share together in this special gathering of God's people.

Resiliency

"Resiliency" is a contemporary term for what other generations might have called tenacity or grit or stubbornness. Resiliency is the ability to face difficult situations and have the perseverance to not only survive but to thrive.

We are just beginning to see the difficulties associated with COVID-19. Each day many of us check the headlines to see how many diagnosed cases are in our geographic area and how many lives have been taken by this insidious virus. Last week alone over 6 million American citizens filed for unemployment. In our Commonwealth we are currently under orders from our Governor to stay home, leaving only for necessities (like groceries or important medical appointments) and then to minimize contact with others.

If you have not yet experienced the death of someone you know from this pandemic, the time will soon come. My doctoral program cohorts are from around the country. One of my cohorts is an Executive Pastor at a large African-American church in Brooklyn, New York City. She has described the situation as beyond words, and that she is now being personally impacted by the death toll. Another cohort who lives in Austin, Texas, reported that her brother has died due to the virus.

Sometimes it feels like we are sheltering in place, watching the reports, listening to the experts (and non-experts), just waiting to be hit. It's a war-time scenario of a different kind. Unlike World War II, covering our windows and extinguishing all lights for a blackout effect will not prevent this enemy from coming. Unlike the war on poverty (LBJ's effort to provide equity to the forgotten), we have few effective tools to prevent or fight its spread. This can be an anxiety-producing time for all of us, especially those of us who underlying health concerns.

So what do we do? One way we can think and pray through what is upon is to remind ourselves of the value of resiliency. A colleague of mine in the Minnesota Annual Conference of the UMC blogged about resiliency earlier this week. Research shows that resilient people have at least three ways of looking at the world:

(1) They tend to be meaning-makers.

(2) They believe they have agency.

(3) They see successes and failures as teachers.

So, one of the ways we can help ourselves right now is to be intentional in strengthening our resiliency. Here are some ideas (keyed to the above three research findings):

(1) Take time to read deeply in the Scriptures ... identify what the writer is saying for his own particular context, then ask yourself how those words apply to yours. Is there a phrase that stands out as you read? Focus on it, think about tit, pray with it. Make meaning from the sacred texts of our faith tradition. Suggestions: the Psalms (any of them are good), Lamentations (perhaps we are in a period of lament ourselves), Job.

(2) Excise from your thinking the idea that you are a victim ... a victim because you have a compromised immune system ... a victim because you believe this is some sort of conspiracy you have no control over ... a victim by blaming others for what is an epidemiological plight ... a victim based on media reports (not enough beds, not enough ventilators, no known cure). These are the days to pull out those scripture texts that remind us who God is in our lives: Joshua Psalm 46, Psalm 121, Romans 8:28, Joshua 1:5-7. Beyond the spiritual, stay focused on keeping and boosting your health: adhere to the CDC guidelines about social distancing, eat healthily, exercise and enjoy the beauty of creation all around us, especially as spring crowns God's glory.

(3) As recovery groups say, make an honest and unflinching review of yourself. Where have you been successful? What are you most proud of? Where have been least successful? How have you learned from your mistakes? Who in your life has most disappointed you, and what can you learn about yourself?

One of the blessings of being a pastor is to know people beyond the surface level. It is such a privilege to be welcomed into the depths of individual and family lives through great celebrations and grievous woes. As I pray through my church directory, and as I envision your faces and names on a regular basis, I am identifying in my mind those areas of strength and resilience I see in you as individuals and as a congregation. (If you need me to tell you personally what resiliency I see in you, email me or give me a call. I'd be happy to encourage you).

I leave you with a thought from A. A. Milne (author of Winnie the Pooh):

You are stronger than you seem,

Braver than you believe,

and smarter than you think you are.

On Becoming an Online Church

The idea of “online church” has never made much sense to me. I have reasoned (and preached from time to time) that “church” is an antidote to what ails our technology-fixated society. When God’s people gather together to worship or to study or to pray or to fellowship, that’s a clear witness of the power of people deeply connected in the love of God. It is a visible demonstration of the Holy Spirit’s power to transform people who share a common experience and purpose in Jesus Christ.

Now, I will admit that I have always been OK with the idea of an “online presence.” I understand that in today’s world most people visit a church’s website before they ever darken the door of a building. I know that’s how I decide where I will worship when I’m on vacation or out of town for some other reason on a Sunday morning. I’m not anti-technology or anti-media.

But what happens when “online church” becomes the only option?

I never dreamed of a day when my work as a pastor would be devolve to orchestrating connections via the internet through platforms like Facebook and Zoom and Constant Contact. I always viewed those technologies as helpful supports to my work as a pastor, but never as the primary means of pastoral ministry.

I hope you understand what I’m trying to say: the day will return when we will, praise be to God, gather together again face-to-face. We will shake hands, and hug and shed tears as we reconnect in person. We will sing our hearts out in worship. We will pray together the communal prayers in our liturgy. We will gather together at the altar rails to receive the precious gift of Christ in bread and juice. We will be moved by God’s word read and proclaimed. That day will return!

But until then, what?

Until then we will continue to be the Body of Christ, redeemed by his blood, poured out for the world. I read yesterday a great article, “The One Things That Makes or Breaks Online Church.” The author beautifully defines “church”.

A localized assembly of the people of God dwelling in meaningful community with the task of building the kingdom

 And then goes on to define “online church”:

A virtually localized assembly of the people of God dwelling in meaningful community with the task of building the kingdom

Do you see the difference?

The only difference is how we meet and how we gather. Whether it is face-to-face or whether it is virtually (for a time or permanently) we continue to be the people of God in the Boonsboro area (and beyond) of Lynchburg, Virignia, who create meaningful community and build God’s kingdom.

Right now we are experimenting with ways to bring a virtual community to birth. This will take some time and some practice, but we will get there. It will not look or feel like what we are acquainted with, but in the midst of the disorientation, I invite you to listen deeply for the voice of God. Sometimes the Spirit catches out attention best when we are most disoriented and least familiar.

We need to recognize, as well, that even speaking about a “virtual community” or an “online church” will immediately leave out some of our beloved members and friends who are not technologically connected. In the midst of our own disorientation we need to remember these valuable people! Any discussions we have about “connecting” need to include these sisters and brothers in Christ. As we continue to adapt, let us prayerfully consider ways to keep our entire flock as connected as we can. (I’ll share a few thoughts about that in an upcoming blog … watch for it).

An Unusual Lenten Observer

Just a month ago we gathered together on Ash Wednesday to observe the beginning of the Lenten season, that forty day (less Sundays) period of preparation in anticipation of the joyous celebration of Resurrection on Easter Sunday.

We followed a traditional United Methodist Ash Wednesday liturgy, with part of the service including an invitation "on behalf of the church" to choose a Lenten discipline. A Lenten discipline includes either subtracting or adding something to our lives for a period of time.

Some people choose to subtract ("give up") a favorite substance (chocolate, alcohol, soda), or perhaps a favored entertainment (television viewing, online screen time), even a bad habit (cursing, overeating, and the like). You get the picture.

Sometimes it is even more meaningful to add something to our lives during the Lenten season. It could be writing a note each day to someone who has blessed your life, or more time in Bible reading or prayer, or connecting with a social justice or social services ministry to do something good in the world.

Some of us made decisions that night as to what we would seek to change, with God's help, in our lives. My prayer as your pastor is that you have found your subtraction(s) or addition(s) meaningful in your life, and that you are seeing signs (even if limited) of transformation.

One of most unusual Lenten observances, however, was foisted upon all us without our choice. Because of the spread of the deadly Corona virus, we have all been asked to give up church for an indeterminate period of time, which has included most of the Lenten season. For the first time in my life -- whether I chose to give up or add during Lent -- I, like you, have had to give up church, Bible study, face-to-face visits, and church meetings.

What a very strange time we are living in!

And yet, this can be a time for God to give birth to something new in our lives, individually and as a congregation. Rather than see this period of time (however long it turns out to be) as only a tedious, monotonous waiting game, I'd like you to consider these important questions:

(1) What do you most miss right now in your life?

(2) What about your church experience do you miss most in your life?

(3) What do we as a congregation need to change in order to give new life to ourselves and those around us?

Please keep asking yourself these (and other related) questions. This is a good period of time to check out other worshiping communities via their websites or their Facebook pages. See what they're doing to make a difference in the world ... ask yourself why what they are doing may be more effective than what we are doing ... identify ways that you feel our way of life may be superior to what you experience online.

Let's use this as a time of exploration. As you reflect, consider the biblical account of God's people preparing to enter the land of Canaan. Read Number 13, where Moses sends a group to "spy out" the land. What do they find? How do they interpret their findings? What might this scripture help us to see in our next days a a congregation?

During this most unusual time of Lenten observance, let's discern as a faith community the "new land" that God is leading us toward.

Remember

As I type these words we are less than an hour away from our first Facebook Live (modified) Worship service. I'm looking forward to connecting the people in the congregation (and any others who may choose to join us), although it will not be the kind of worship experience I most enjoy. I love to be in a worship space with other living humans, breathing the same air, hearing the same sounds, being moved by the same Spirit. There's something captivating and transforming about a worship experience when God's Spirit is on the move.

Facebook Live will be different because it will be a monologue of sorts. By its very design Facebook Live focuses on one camera with whatever or whoever is in its view, with others who join observing, perhaps typing a comment or more into the public space, relatively passive participants. While I rejoice that we will be able to connect, I anticipate some disappointment only because the connection may seem a bit artificial and, well, socially distanced.

As I think about today's worship offering, I also pause to remember that in my years in pastoral ministry there have been many changes. I'm old enough to remember the mimeograph as the means by which church bulletins and newsletters were produced. I remember the day my home church got its first photocopier (this was about 1982). I was bedazzled with its sophistication (which at the time simply meant no more messy, inky, drippy sheets from the mimeo process).

I remember the days when an exceptional church media ministry meant recording and distributing cassette tapes to those who wished to listen to them following a worship service. Like many of you, I predate the phone phenomenon. I remember rotary dials on corded landline telephones. I remember using my first clunky, non-mouse IBM desktop computer for a job I had in the business world in the late 1980s.

As I consider how much technological change has come upon us in just the past three decades, I am reminded that through it all God has been faithful and present. God is alive today as in the days of Abraham and Sara, Moses and Miriam, Jesus and Mary. And while technological innovation continues to change, God's goodness remains steadfast. This is a God who has known us from our months in the womb, and a God who will journey with us beyond the grave.

This week I was reading the reflection of a United Methodist pastor in Minnesota who shared these thoughts from Henri J. M. Nouwen. Written from the perspective of God speaking to us, he asks us to "Remember Who You Are":

You are my child.

You are written in the palms of my hand.

You are hidden in the shadow of my hand.

I have molded you in the secret of the earth.

I have knitted you together in your mother’s womb.

You belong to me.

I am yours. You are mine.

I have called you from eternity and you are the one who is held safe and 

embraced in love from eternity to eternity.

You belong to me. 

And I am holding you safe and I want you to know that whatever happens to you, I am always there. 

I was always there; I am always there; I always will be there and hold you in my embrace.

You are mine. You are my child. 

You belong to my home. 

You belong to my intimate life and I will never let you go. 

I will be faithful to you.     

In these days of profound dislocation, I invite your to remember who you, God's beloved child.    

Restart

So I'm happily tapping at my computer keyboard last night, toggling between a website providing me musical distraction and another assisting me in research for my doctoral class, when suddenly I couldn't get any internet response.

I'm no technology guru, but after years of utilizing technology in my vocational and personal lives, I can make some initial determinations. I could move from application to application with no difficulty. I could open and close documents. There was no difference in the computer response time with those actions. What I could not do, however, was get the internet to respond.

After receiving no response from Safari (my preferred web browser), I tried Firefox. Nothing. I moved on to Chrome. Again, no response. I turned off my wi-fi, waited a couple of minutes, turned it back on. The signal showed full bars, but no response.

By this time, of course, I am annoyed and beyond frustrated. I begin to reason with myself that perhaps it's simply that the internet across the world is overloaded right now because people cannot leave home and everyone is online instead. I chastise myself and wonder if perhaps I need a higher quality internet source, although I thought Claudia and I made that decision (a good one) when we moved here about a year ago. In my irritation I begin to question the motives of others. Surely the people on my block -- all of whom, I irrationally surmised -- must be on the internet, pulling strength away from my home, when I was the one doing a socially more noble thing: doctoral research. In the fetid pool of my imagination I cast mental aspersions: why am I denied my higher pursuit while they (whoever "they" might be) are sucking up internet bandwidth watching old episodes of "Dexter" or "Little House on the Prairie" or whatever.

Finally, I had to submit to reality. I needed to focus on what I could control and what I could not control. I couldn't control others' (supposed) viewing habits, I couldn't control the fact that across the country millions of people are staying in at night, I couldn't control (apparently, for the moment) my own judgmental mind.

So I did what I had to do. I reached my angry fingers to my mouse, clicked on a pull-down menu and selected, first of all, "force quit" (to close down all my open applications) and then "restart."

As program by program shut down, I watched the colors in my monitor dim to a grey and then complete darkness. For what seemed like minutes (although, in truth were probably seconds) I waited for something to emerge from the darkness. Finally, a movement, a small apple-shaped icon (I am a Mac user) emerged and beneath it a progress bar showing me that in 37 minutes I would have an updated system.

And so I waited. I picked up a theologically dense book that I'm reading from my current class in New Testament Interpretation. After a page or two I looked up to see 34 minutes remaining. I began to organize my work space, I went to the kitchen for a drink. Returning back to my home office I viewed the verdict. 23 minutes remaining.

And so I waited some more. Still annoyed, still displaced, but hopeful that eventually things would be better. As the final couple of minutes ticked away, I recognized that I was now calmer, less stressed, more prepared for the next step.

And then, in the blink of an eye, my system update was finished. I clicked on my sign-in icon and voilá, I was back in business. With a bit of trepidation I opened my internet browser, typed in the url for Pitts Theological Library (at Candler School of Theology). Within seconds my browser was snappily returning to me the results I needed.

Turns out that what I needed (both for my computer and for me personally) was a restart. In this case it was a "hard restart," because it involved an update of my computer operating system.

I wonder if the Coronavirus epidemic is providing all of us with a hard restart. Right now we are in a protracted moment of annoyance, irritation and dread. We are awaiting a return to what is familiar and expected.

But I wonder ... perhaps this "hard restart" will allow us the opportunity to create something new, not simply a return to what has been. In particular, I wonder how this may be a time for the Church (all churches, not just our congregation) to rethink how we do what it is we do.

I invite you to pray with me ... to ask God how we can be a "fresh expression" (more on that later) of love and grace in our community of faith for the community around us. Let's redeem this challenging time by welcoming God's Spirit to "restart" us.

Unprecedented

How many times in the past two weeks have you heard this word: "unprecedented"? Or these: "crisis," "unprepared," "social distance," "shortage," "concern"?

We are in the first stages of dramatic change, with the end results not clearly known. Understandably this causes anxiety and distress, especially for those whose livelihoods depend on an economy that seems to be shutting down. Newsfeeds, radio broadcasts, television reports, newspaper coverage ... none of it sounds remotely good or encouraging.

You may have experienced a similar situation with your significant other, neighbors, friends or others in your personal sphere. There are alarmists ("Life as we know it is over"), there are deniers ("This is all being overly played by the media"), and then there are the rest of us. We want to exercise appropriate precautions, avoid being infected or spreading infection and carry on with our lives as normally as possible.

While the COVID-19 Virus is, indeed, a sobering reality for us in our time, it is important for us to remember that throughout the centuries people of faith have encountered significant challenges. We are not the first people to face what feels ominous and threatening.

* What about December 7, 1941, when American citizens were overwhelmed by an aggressive attack from a wartime enemy

* Or September 11, 2001, when over 3,000 lives were lost in a series of maniacal actions on the part of hate-mongers

* Or the Great Depression of the 1930s which had economic impact across the globe

* And, of course, the Influenza Epidemic of 1918, in which one-third of the world's population became infected, and 50 million worldwide perished (of which 675,000 were deaths in the USA)

* To extend back more than a generation, there was the War Between the States, in which more than 620,000 soldiers lost their lives

And these are only events occurring on American soil. I could add countless other atrocities and tragedies from world history, the ravages of warfare, disease, starvation and deprivation.

Throughout the eras, God's people have distinguished themselves with acts of care, compassion and love for neighbor. My word of encouragement is that we continue to respond to the current crisis in a way that reflects Jesus best advice. When asked to identify the very groundwork of life and faith, Jesus said: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength, and your neighbor as yourself."

Although we are not currently able to meet together in worship, we are able to love God and neighbor. Perhaps now more than ever we have the time and the distance from distraction to be more intentional to practice our Christian lives. We can pray, we can read Scripture, we can sing. We can open our ears and hearts to our neighbors, even while practicing "safe distancing." We can be good neighbors by doing our part to prevent the spread of a noxious virus the preys upon the unsuspecting until the infection has taken hold. In this age of technology, we can connect through calls, video chats, Facebook, and other social media. 

My prayer is that this period of time -- however long it takes -- will be an unprecedented time for God's people to remain strong and faithful -- albeit from a necessary distance -- for a world that needs a little hope right now.

Pastor Bart