MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, May 26, 2014

On this Memorial Day, I remember Clyde and Evelyn.

I served in a church near a VA hospital that had a nursing facility where two elderly parishioners resided, Clyde and Evelyn. They were both well into their 90’s, a husband and wife who never had children and apparently had no family except the family of the local congregation. They were not able to get to church any more, so I would visit them, as did other parishioners. I learned how they met in the military, how they had served in the Second World War together, how proud they were of that service.

One day, I got the call that Clyde had died in his sleep. He was to be buried at Arlington Cemetery, and the person at the hospital asked if I would officiate. I was honored to be asked. I got in my car and drove several hours to Washington for the service, and was directed to that place where he would be laid to rest. I had been to Arlington Cemetery before, but never to officiate at a service. As I drove past the thousands of gravestones, as I prepared to officiate at this service, I saw those gravestones in a new light. I realized in a new way that each stone represented a life, a person, a sacrifice, a sorrow for the group that would gather at the resting place for the service of committal. I thought about the cost of war and the brokenness of the human condition. I thought about the power of remembering each life. It was all about honor. It was an honor to be there.

There were no family members present. Evelyn could not travel. Nor could Clyde’s friends. It was me, with my Book of Common Prayer, representing the wider church, offering that polished liturgy which affirms our Easter hope. Two women were in attendance, volunteers who come to any funeral, so that no one is laid to rest without a “congregation”. And there were the soldiers, polished and crisply attentive offering military honors for Clyde. Folding the flag. Shooting the rifle. Playing taps. It was a holy moment.  No homily or eulogy called for. I got in the car and drove home in silence. That seemed appropriate.

The next week, I got a call from that same VA hospital. Evelyn had died. Back in the car. Back to Arlington. Back to that gravesite. This couple, who had been inseparable for decades except for the last few days, were reunited. Same holy gathering. The officiant (me). My Prayer Book. The volunteer women. The soldiers, the guns, the bugle. An honor.

On Memorial Day, I remember Clyde and Evelyn, a window for me into the meaning of the day. I give thanks for their service, for their lives. I suspect we can each think of individuals to remember on this day, because frankly, sadly there are lots of them, too many of them. On this Memorial Day Weekend, 220,000 small flags have been placed, one in front of each gravestone at Arlington Cemetery. That’s a lot of flags. That’s a lot of lives. That’s a lot of war. That’s a lot of tears. That’s a lot to honor.

Today, don’t forget to remember. Remember the lives of those who were lost. Remember their loved ones. Pray for peace in our world. Amidst the joy and relaxation afforded by a vacation day, remember it’s also a holiday, a holy day. On this day off from work, with picnics and games and retail opportunities, carve out a few minutes in silence to remember. If it’s helpful, offer the prayers in the side column which focus on heroic service, and remember those who have died, and call us to work for a more peaceful and just world.

– Jay Sidebotham

Contact:

Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org
www.forwardmovement.org

MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, May 19, 2014

I read recently that when the missionary E. Stanley Jones met Mahatma Gandhi he said, “Mr. Gandhi, though you quote the words of Christ often, why is it that you appear to so adamantly reject becoming his follower?” Gandhi replied, “Oh, I don’t reject Christ. I love Christ. It’s just that so many of you Christians are so unlike him.”

I’ve been intrigued with the spiritual journey of Mahatma Gandhi since my teens, when for several months I lived with an Indian family as an exchange student in Mumbai (then Bombay), an adventure for a teenager who had rarely left the bubble of suburban New York. I learned a lot from the deep spirituality embedded in that culture. In retrospect, it changed my life. I also learned about the history of how some Christians treated some people like Mahatma Gandhi, and so I was not surprised that he chose not to sign up for the newcomer’s class at the local parish. On one occasion, after he decided to attend a church in South Africa, he was barred at the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” an Englishman asked Gandhi. Gandhi replied that he would like to attend worship. The elder responded: “There’s no room for kaffirs in this church. Get out of here or I’ll have my assistants throw you down the steps.” So much for radical welcome.

Thoughts about Gandhi’s spiritual journey have been triggered for me recently by daily readings appointed by the Book of Common Prayer. In that lectionary, we’re working our way through the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), Jesus’ discussion with his disciples about what it means to put faith to work in the world. Over the history of the church, that sermon has been transformative. It shaped the call of Leo Tolstoy to give up wealth for the sake of the poor. Gandhi applied Tolstoy’s learning to his own context, bringing non-violence and soul force to the struggle for freedom and justice in India. Martin Luther King Jr. in turn, studied Gandhi and applied those same learnings to his context in this country. And so it goes, all the way to this Monday morning in May, when we are given the chance and the challenge of putting the teachings of Jesus to work in the world. Today, how might we increase love in our hearts, for God and neighbor (especially neighbors who might be hard to get along with, perhaps even enemies)?

It matters how we do that, not only for the sake of our relationship with God. It matters for the sake of our relationship with those around us, in our household, in our workplace, in our church, in the community. It matters for a grace-starved world. Our prayer book, when it speaks of the ministry that each of us have in the world, says that lay people, bishops, priests and deacons all share this call: To represent Christ and his Church. That’s a responsibility, for sure. I remember a sermon I heard many years ago. The preacher asked: If you were arrested for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you? What do our lives say about what we profess. Is there a gap between profession and practice?

It’s also an opportunity, because we have the chance to reflect, indeed to magnify, the grace we have received. The early church grew exponentially because people looked at the early Christian community and said: “See how they love one another.” A far cry from Gandhi’s experience. Is it a far cry from our own?

I’m mindful this Monday morning of the gap between Christ and this Christian. But wherever we are in the spiritual journey this morning, there is always a small step we can take to close that gap, to grow in spirit, to follow Christ more closely, as he calls us to reflect his way of being in the world, so that the world will know the wonders of his love, so the world will know we are Christians by our love.

– Jay Sidebotham

Contact:

Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org
www.forwardmovement.org

MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, May 5, 2014

Last week, I attended a conference with about 20 rectors and a guest speaker, Bill Powers, author of N.Y. Times bestseller, Hamlet’s Blackberry, Building A Good Life in the Digital Age. The book is described by one reviewer as an “oasis of serenity and sanity.” The book resembles its author. Mr. Powers is a gifted journalist, a great guy. He’s not a churchgoer, but/and he had a lot to teach us clergy, some of whom have been ordained and serving in congregations for a while. He sees the challenge of the digital age this way: We need to move from quantity to quality, from speed to engagement, from breadth to depth. He believes that communities of the spirit, communities that help mediate meaning, can bring that kind of growth.

As an alumnus of an Ivy League school, he has been asked to interview prospective candidates for admission. In conversation with one young woman, he asked about how she used technology. She responded that she had developed a “personal digital strategy” and actually produced a copy of this written statement, a covenant of how she would use technology, specifically social media, how she would limit and focus that usage in order to make it work for her, how she would balance its cost and promise.

Mr. Powers then talked about his family’s practice, how he, his wife and son unplug for the weekend, how that can be both challenging and liberating. It sounded a lot to me like a Sabbath, an ancient divinely ordained spiritual practice that was mostly lost to our culture when blue laws disappeared (those antiquated laws that kept businesses closed on Sundays, active at a time before sports practices and games were scheduled on Sunday morning). I considered the practice of the Powers family against the backdrop of this past Lent, in which I heard of a number of people who gave up Facebook for the season.

I found myself wondering if there was a spiritual growth opportunity for me, because sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night, say at 3 a.m., I check my email, as if someone was going to write me in that time period, or like there was something I really needed to act on in response. ‘Fess up. Anyone else ever do that?

The conversation among the rectors, connected on ipads, phones, laptops throughout the conference, turned to the question of how to manage the marvelous resources of technology when they threaten to manage us. We discussed a call to mindfulness, intentionality about how much time we spend in the digital world, how we relate to others through these amazing devices, how we do that well, and how, well, not so much. It was a stewardship conversation, an exploration of what we do with what we’re given. The thought of a personal digital strategy began to sound like a rule of life, another ancient spiritual practice of intentionality.

Here’s a bit of coaching. (Newsflash: the preacher is preaching to himself.) Unplug, even for just a few minutes each day. Carve out silence. Start with a minute one day. Two the next. Three the next. Get to twenty. Then do twenty in the morning and twenty in the evening. Put the smartphone away. Press mute. Step away from the screen. Take your watch off. Sit in silence.

That kind of silence can be a most faithful prayer, marked by audacious expectancy that we will actually hear the God of creation, the Holy Spirit, say something if we shut up, that God will speak in the silence if we reduce the chatter, the static, the interference, the noise that we create. Give it a try. Give yourself (and the digital world) a rest.

– Jay Sidebotham

Contact:

Rev. Jay Sidebotham
jsidebotham@renewalworks.org
RenewalWorks is a ministry of Forward Movement.
www.renewalworks.org
www.forwardmovement.org