MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, June 30, 2014

Peter, Paul, and You   

Did you know the real name of the National Cathedral in Washington? Its official name is the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, and since today is the observance of the feast of these two boys, I thought I’d reflect on why they matter this Monday. That cathedral looming over the Washington skyline is a place of beauty and grace. Above the west façade are two towers, one named for Peter, one for Paul. On the façade, over the north portal, you find a depiction of St. Peter, with fishing net, at the moment he was called to be a disciple. At the other end of that same façade, over the south portal, you find a depiction of St. Paul at the moment of conversion. Those two depictions are there, but not right up against each other, actually with some distance from each other.

The distance makes sense. As I read the New Testament, I get the impression that Peter and Paul were not best buddies. Each was endowed with considerable ego strength. We read about a variety of run-ins they have with each other. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul called out Peter about issues in that church. In the letter attributed to Peter, Paul’s letters are described as confusing. All of which says to me that God puts us in community of imperfect people to learn from each other, even if we don’t like each other, or understand each other, or see eye to eye on every issue. We are each and all works in progress. The community of faith is not a community of agreement. It’s not a social club. It’s a community gathered in common worship, or as Episcopalians call it, common prayer, and then sent into the world to do God’s work. God uses us with our gifts and experience and past, including our failures and mistakes. Peter and Paul teach us that.

If the early church was a start up, these two entrepreneurs got it going. Called to this work, they left other work to fulfill a mission. God used who they were, their skills and personalities. Peter, ever-impulsive fisherman, clearly a leader, often speaking first and thinking later, brought brave, brash energy to the beginning of the church, as Jesus tells him he will fish for people. Paul, compulsive persecutor of first Christians, running from city to city to lock up any Christians he could find for the sake of his faith tradition, has that energy transformed so that after his conversion he runs from city to city for the sake of his newfound faith. God took who they were, used their experience, those gifts for the sake of his kingdom.

Both Peter and Paul could have imagined that their histories disqualified them from service, from ministry. Peter denied Jesus at the moment when Jesus really could have used a hand. Was that all that different from what Judas did? Paul gave his life to the persecution of Christ’s community. Did that qualify him to be the leader of the church? On their feast day, we are called to consider the ways that God acts in our lives, using our gifts and histories, transforming our shortcomings, idiosyncracies and sins for good work in the world. As Philips Brooks, the great Episcopalian preacher (Note: that’s not an oxymoron) put it: God will waste nothing.

Peter and Paul remind us that God works in and through our diversity, in and through (and often in spite of) our history. But we all share this one thing. The reading from the gospel for the feast of Peter and Paul describes Jesus’ final encounter with Peter, in which he commissions Peter to feed the flock and tend the sheep. The passage concludes with Peter asking about another disciple, the beloved disciple, and what will happen to that disciple. Jesus says, don’t worry about that. None of your business. Instead, Jesus leaves Peter with two simple words: Follow me. That was the call to Peter and Paul. It is the call to us this Monday. To look at our own journey, checking the rear view mirror to see where we’ve been, to remember what God has done, to honor our gifts, to honor each other (even if we occasionally irritate each other), to recognize our limits, to trust that as the road unfolds before us, we can and will be used by God, forgiven and empowered people on the receiving end of amazing grace. Peter and Paul heard that call. Each in his way found a way to follow. You and I are being called to do the same, this very day. What will it mean to live into those two words: Follow me? How will you follow Jesus this day?

– 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, June 23, 2014

“You can do better than fine. You can do great.”

Last week, I met a friend over a glass of wine (okay, it was two) and we got talking about the church, about challenges and opportunities, about discouragement and hope, about what we find engaging and what is not engaging. We are part of different congregations, but there was plenty of common ground in our discussion, which didn’t go on long enough for my taste, since we each had dinner plans that night. My friend went home for dinner with his family, where apparently the conversation about church and worship continued. Since school is out, that family has assigned their children a weekly essay during the summer months. My friend’s 11 year old daughter left the dinner table and wrote her weekly essay, continuing the discussion about church. The essay is entitled: How should we worship? I thought you might like to see what this young person (11 years old!) wrote:

I think churches are getting a little too old fashioned, even churches that are supposed to be “more in generation.”  For example, in our church we read the Gospel, sing, say prayers, talk about the church schedule, and we listen to a sermon, etc. Do you think that is focusing on worshiping god and praying to him? I don’t. That’s probably why lots of people are not going to church as much. I know people who just go for holidays. Have you ever been in a church service and wondered about something the priest said? I have. Do you look it up when you get home, forget the question, or just not have time to wonder about it? Don’t you wonder why you can’t ask the question to the priest right after he/she is done? I think that you should be able to ask them during the sermon or text it to them so you will not be embarrassed.  I think that the church service should be more interactive, more questioning, and more communicative. That will bring the church community closer. There are a lot more ways to correct the church but the problem is that they don’t want to be corrected. They think their way is fine. They’re right that it is fine, but you can do better than fine. You can do great. You’re never done. You can always correct and change the way you think. You can change the world!! Worship God the way you want to.

Do you wonder what Jesus had in mind when he said that the kingdom of God belongs to children, that we need to receive the kingdom of God as a little child? I’m not sure what he meant, but I bet he would have liked this essay. I’ve been in the rooted and restless (but mostly rooted) Episcopal Church long enough to know that change comes slowly, that some of my young wise friend’s suggestions won’t immediately or readily or maybe ever be embraced. But I loved reading this essay, a window into a wonderful mind, fresh with ideas I might do well to take to General Convention, fresh with challenge to my own experience of worship. This Monday morning, this young lady challenges us to think about the possibility that wherever we are in the spiritual journey, there is more. I thank God for her and her family, for many reasons. Today, I give thanks for her challenge, which I take personally. She becomes my teacher as she says to me: “Jay, you can do better than fine. You can do great. You’re never done.”

One more thing. Know that I would be honored if you would tweet me a question during one of my sermons, or any other time. @sidebotham.

– 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, June 16, 2014

Joy

Many of you know that one of my vocations is to create cartoons, specifically drawings commissioned by the Episcopal Church. As I write this Monday morning, I’m working on ideas for a calendar of cartoons for 2015, which has as its focus funny things about the church. (Feel free to send any ideas for cartoons you might have. I bet you have plenty.) I have done this calendar for a number of years. I will tell you, sometimes the ideas come quickly, just a matter of keeping my eyes open. The material presents itself and I can’t believe someone pays me to do this.

At other times, I feel like I earn every cent. The church, specifically church people, can be terminally serious. As we note statistics about the rapid decline of mainline religion, one can see how that might become literally true. So I sit at my desk and think of ideas. Sometimes my wife is working in the same room at the same time. When she hears me start to giggle out loud to myself, she knows I’ve gotten an idea. But let’s just say there can be long periods of silence.

It all has gotten me thinking about joy and laughter. It’s gotten me thinking of the times when I have witnessed joy. I don’t witness it enough, especially in church. Ironically, joy often comes from people who seem to face the biggest challenges. I remember visiting a congregation near my church in the midwest. We had developed a partnership relationship with this church, and most of the congregants were recent immigrants from Central America, many facing challenges I’ve never had to face in my life. The spirit of worship was celebratory, joyful in a way I had rarely experienced. The church in which I served supported our partner church with financial resources, with guidance about governance, serious contributions for sure. But on occasion, let’s just say our church might have lived into the caricature of Episcopalians as the frozen chosen. The Hispanic church supported us with glimpses of what it means to show joy, in the various ways that joy can be manifested, sometimes effusive, sometimes serene.

When in your life have you experienced joy? Was there a reason it came to you? When in your life have you felt joy go away? What made that happen? Are there things you can do to foster more joy in your life today? Think of someone in your life who has figured out the joy piece. Talk to them about it. Where does it come from for them? What makes someone like Nelson Mandela or Desmond Tutu exude joy, even in the face of overwhelming hardship?

I suspect one way that joy takes root has to do with gratitude. I recently met with a group that included the rabbi of one of the largest congregations in L.A. She was asked to give the blessing over our meal, and she shared with our group (representing many faith traditions) that in her tradition, faithful Jews were invited, perhaps challenged, to name 100 blessings each day. My own spiritual practice has been to work on 10 a day. 100 seems like a lot but I’m working on it.

Another practice: finding a way to be of service. An intentional spirit of giving, put into action, can be an antidote to the resentment, bitterness, regret, joy-sapping self-consumption that lies close at hand for each one of us.

We all, for sure, can find reasons for joy to dissipate. But we can choose another way. We can choose joy. Or maybe it can choose us. St. Paul described joy as one of the fruits of the Spirit, something God does in us, a way God works through us. Ask God this morning to open that doorway of a little more joy.

The newspapers tell a grim story these days. Our world needs joy, not the denial of challenges we face, but a spirit that carries us through them and lifts us above them. I don’t know all my readers. I know some are facing huge challenges this very day. My prayer for you is joy, a peace that passes understanding, a fruit of God’s spirit, the serious business of heaven available here and now.

– 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, June 9, 2014

More than we could ask or imagine

Last week, I attended a conference called Eformation2014 at Virginia Seminary. It was a gathering of church folk who met to talk about how new technologies, and especially social media, might change and enhance the way we do church. Since the Episcopal Church in terms of generational constituency is more Boomer than Millennial, the conference focused on how we bring folks who didn’t grow up with ipads and smart phones into the conversation, how we work with people who are immigrants (e.g., me), not natives (e.g., my kids) to the digital world. All of which reminded me a woman named Shirley, who taught me some important lessons.

A woman in her late 70’s, maybe older, Shirley lived in a local retirement community, and let us all know at church that her loneliness was a source of deep, prolonged unhappiness. There was, truth be told, a contagious, maybe infectious quality to her unhappiness. She shared it prodigiously, even imposed it, wherever she went. Note: This only exacerbated her loneliness. Shirley confessed to me at one point that she was not going to be able to come to church any more on Sunday mornings. Her arthritis made the task of getting ready for church too arduous, too protracted. She would have to get up way too early. So she stopped showing up at Sunday worship.

On one of my visits to her home, I noticed that Shirley’s spirits seemed a bit lifted. She told me that students from a local university were coming each week to her retirement community to introduce her and her friends to computers,  showing them how to get online. Well before Facebook or Twitter or Pinterest or Instagram, Shirley found herself making connections with people of her age and in her station in various chat rooms. She was meeting people around the country.

Shirley reported on one visit that she had made a friend online, a gentleman from Texas, someone exactly her age. She spoke about how they had developed a friendship, how much they had in common, and how they arranged for regular times to converse. Just the way she talked about it revealed to me that some of the unhappiness had abated. Before long, I received a call that this gentleman was going to come to visit, that they were going to meet in person, that he was, in fact driving his motorcycle almost 1000 miles for this visit. Shirley was nervous and excited. I glimpsed a teenage girl anticipating a prom date. I mentioned that I’d like to meet her friend. Maybe that was a little parental. Maybe I was a little worried.

Lo and behold, a few weeks later, I looked out my office window. Up the driveway came a Harley, with Shirley on the back, she and her new friend in matching motorcycle helmets and metallic jumpsuits. I walked out to greet them. Shirley said they had to hit the road. They were off for several days to ride the Blue Ridge Highway. Her arthritis didn’t seem to be getting in the way. As I write this, I’m realizing it could sound sketchy, maybe creepy. In real life, it seemed beautiful. These two didn’t get married, but they did begin a friendship that seemed to make them both pretty happy. Not bad.

Imagine sermon titles from this story: The virtues of connectivity. Never stop learning. Love conquers all. Feel free to submit your suggestions. Maybe the lesson this Monday morning has to do with new possibility. I imagine we can all imagine parts of our story that we imagine could never change, which I imagine could make us all cranky. When we think like that, when we get locked in that story, when we get in that loop, when that tape keeps playing (pick your favorite cliché) our faith reminds us that we are resurrection people, that a little Easter is celebrated every Sunday, that the gospel is in fact good news because it tells us that dead ends become thresholds. Maybe this Monday can be a threshold for you.

– 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, June 2, 2014

Let me try out this image of the spiritual life, courtesy of Desmond Tutu, who seems to know a lot about the spiritual life:

“One image that I have of the spiritual life is of sitting in front of a fire on a cold day. We don’t have to do anything. We just have to sit in front of the fire and then gradually the qualities of the fire are transferred to us. We begin to feel the warmth. We become the attributes of the fire. It’s like that with us and God. As we take time to be still and to be in God’s presence, the qualities of God are transferred to us.”

I can imagine you joining me in saying: I’m too busy for sitting by the fire. And by the way, it’s almost summer. Note that this comment comes from one of the world’s most energetic activists, who out of love of God tirelessly seeks to address injustice wherever he sees it. Lord knows, there’s plenty to address.

So it’s somewhat paradoxical that he wrote a piece called Reflections on Stillness in which he said that we are all meant to be contemplatives. He talks about the practices he has developed in his own life to foster that dynamic, letting God be God in and through us. For him, spiritual practice includes a “reasonable amount of time” in meditation early in the morning. It includes prayer out loud or to himself before every meeting, before every drive in the car. It means a monthly retreat at a local convent, one day every thirty days to pause. It means an annual retreat, three days of silence. I’m struck that this busy man, who answers the call to address the world’s deep hungers, with limited amount of time and energy to do so, feels that quiet time is so important.

Right now in the church calendar, we find ourselves in the days between Ascension Day and the Feast of Pentecost. Ascension Day, that mysterious feast when Jesus, defying gravity, leaves his disciples. Those disciples are called to wait for what God will do, wait for what will happen at Pentecost. That is a word to each one of us as disciples right now: We are called to wait, to be still, to listen, to be silent, to expect. In so doing, there is the possibility that we might grow to be more like God, as audacious as that seems.

One more thought from Desmond Tutu, as he spoke about the journey of growing in our God-awareness, demonstrated by our God-likeness, as we increasingly becoming what we love. He said: “People tend to look like the things they love which is why many people end up looking like their dogs. But we can also begin to look like God if we love God and strive to be like God.”

Today, find the time to be still in God’s presence. In that quiet time, consider what it might mean to love God more deeply, maybe even to become more godly. Imagine the ways you might be changed by that expression of affection.

– 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 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

MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, April 28, 2014

A nimble faith

On this Monday in the Easter season, I find myself mindful of the different ways the gospels tell the story of the first Easter, and especially how the gospels describe the men and women who saw an empty tomb and met the resurrected Christ. Each gospel offers its own spin, but all four have this in common. The disciples have, how shall we say, mixed reactions to the news that Jesus is alive. Most famously, as we always hear on the Second Sunday of Easter (i.e., yesterday), Thomas gets stuck with the adjective “doubting”, forever fixed to his name. He refuses to believe unless he gets physical evidence. That doubt, that skepticism makes him a hero to some. I sometimes think he is the patron saint of Episcopalians who are pretty good at celebrating the questions. But as I read the Gospel of John, it sounds like Thomas is getting called on the carpet, or in biblical parlance, he is upbraided for his doubt.

Lest we are too hard on Thomas, all four gospels indicate that he was not the only one with questions. The gospels describe disciples who doubted (Matthew), who fled the tomb in terror, amazement and fear (Mark), who were perplexed, terrified and startled, who thought they saw a ghost, who were comically clueless about Jesus’ presence until he broke the bread (Luke). Let’s just say that the first disciples did not immediately break into singing “Jesus Christ is risen today.” Before they got to “alleluia”, there were a lot of “I don’t know about this.” And along the way, I’m guessing there were a few ancient near eastern expletives uttered.

For the first disciples, those eleven guys and the several women on whom dawned news of resurrection, it took a while for the news to sink in. Doubt was part of the story. Which is good news for each one of us, because they are us. The news of Easter is amazing. But if it doesn’t prompt questions and wonder and doubts, we may not be paying attention to its claims. The ways the gospels describe the event gives permission for us to embrace the news at our own pace. It gives us the opportunity to believe and disbelieve (a la Emily Dickinson) and thereby to develop a nimble faith.

That nimble faith is the goal, because doubt is not the destination. It is meant to lead to a deeper, more authentic relationship with God, and especially to an embrace of the hope of new life. It is meant to lead to mission, a call to service in a world that needs to hear good news. I don’t know about you, but in a world where religious certainty often breeds intolerance, exclusion and division, I can easily linger, even loiter, maybe lurk in the place of doubt. I can easily take up residence there, gravitating to the religious sidelines, in a slightly defensive posture that says: “At least I’m not like those folks.”

The doubts, the questions, the skepticism that Thomas courageously expressed led him ultimately to worship. We’re called to the same journey. Celebrate the questions. God made us in such a way that we can’t help but ask them. They are a gift. But as you ask them, also ask God to lead you through the questions to a place of deeper commitment, deeper insight into the mystery that surrounds us, into service as a response to the love that comes to us as gift.

– 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, April 21, 2014

Yes

One of the great privileges in my life: to administer communion, giving out bread or wine as the people of God receive the gifts of God. Whether I’m standing at the rail in a grand worship space, or moving from wheelchair to wheelchair in a nursing home activity room, or bending over to give communion to a toddler, or serving bedside in a hospital room, whether I know the people well or not at all, I find it an honor to connect with people in this sacramental moment.

When I was considering ordination, a wise counselor advised me to read the ordination service in the Prayer Book and see if anything grabbed me in the way that liturgy was shaped. I remember being moved by a question which was asked of the candidate for ordination: Will you nourish God’s people from the riches of God’s grace? It seemed to me that is what we do when we come to communion: We are nourished by God’s grace. The priest or whoever is giving the bread and wine is simply an instrument. That’s probably true of all ministry in the world, all the good we do, but to me it seems clearest as the bread is placed in open hands, as the wine is received.

Many if not most of the people who receive communion respond to the bread placed in palms by saying: Amen. But I remember one parishioner, a wonderful older woman who grew up in the mountains of Virginia and brought the softest, most beautiful accent with her from that region. Her voice was deep and each word was extenuated. On Sundays, as I moved down the altar rail handing out bread she would not say “Amen”. Instead, she would say yes, which in her rendering of that word ending up with about four syllables. Her one word response to the bread placed in palm was one of the most elegant and eloquent (not to mention succinct) sermons I’ve ever heard. It spoke volumes to me about how we are to respond to God’s grace in our lives. We are called to say yes, in word and action, with our lips and with our lives.

Easter is God’s yes to us. As we move into the second day of the Easter season, we are called to give thanks and praise, we are called to alleluias, which have been on mute since Ash Wednesday. But I believe we are also called to say yes in return, yes to the new life, the resurrected life that God holds for us. That life comes as gift. But a gift, a grace only has meaning if we accept it and apply it. Abraham could have turned down the call to take his leap of faith. Moses could have taken a look at the burning bush and kept on going. Mary could have responded to the annunciation by saying “no thanks”. Peter could have kept fishing. Paul could have imagined that the Damascus road experience was a hallucination or projection. Each of them said “yes”, and that response not only changed their lives. That response changed the world. That can still happen.

What is God calling you to do and to be on this first Monday in the season of Easter? Can you experience this season as God’s emphatic “yes”?  Can you pass on the grace of God, be an instrument of that grace in someone’s life? How will you say yes to the new thing, the new life God holds out for you?

– Jay Sidebotham

Contact:

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