MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, December 2, 2013

What do you expect?

Advent has arrived. Since Advent means arrival, editors might accuse me of redundancy, which wouldn’t be the first time that has happened to a preacher. But it’s here, a season of expectation, posing this question: How do our expectations of the future affect the way we live in the present? As we make our way, day by day, through this season, we’re invited to slow down, to be quiet, to savor holy anticipation, to live life expecting God to do something. And to do so patiently, a growth opportunity for many of us who want patience and want it now.

Whether we join Mary and Joseph in expectation of the arrival of the Christ child or whether we join the great communion of saints across the ages who say that Christ will come again, we live our faith based on promise. We live in hope. As C.S.Lewis said: “If you read history, you will find that the Christians who did the most for the present world were just those who thought most of the next.”

The work with which I’m involved these days focuses on expectation, the expectation of spiritual growth in each of our lives, which leads to spiritual growth in our faith communities. It has brought a number of provocative exchanges. In one church, the conversation centered on how we move from here to there in the spiritual journey, how the church helps us do that, in fact, how that is part of what it means to be church, to grow and change and be transformed. One Episcopalian, in the spirit of full disclosure in the course of this work, said to her rector: “I don’t really expect anything to happen to me when I come to church.” I was grateful for the candor. She gave voice to what I often feel. I’m not always interested in change or growth or transformation. I’m not always prepared for it. I’m not always expecting it.

Advent tells us to live expectantly, to navigate the present moment guided by a sense of promise and hope in what God will do in days ahead. One of my favorite Advent hymns (and that’s a tough call because Advent hymns are simply the best) is printed below. It calls us to be on the lookout for the long-expected Jesus. Here’s what we might expect from that arrival. We can expect to be set free. To be released from fear and sins. To be consoled. To know hope. To experience deliverance. Ultimately, to be raised. Not a bad set of expectations.

Carry this hymn with you for the season of Advent. If you want an Advent discipline, memorize the text. If the spirit moves and the opportunity arises, gather around a piano and sing it with those in your household. Expect God to act in your life in this holy season. Watch for ways that will happen. Take a moment and jot notes about what you might expect God to do in your life, in our world. Or at least note what you would like God to do in your life, in our world. Make those notes a prayer.

And know that as we live in expectation of what God will do, there’s also an expectation that we will live into the new life God has for us. Said another way, there’s certainly an expectation about what God will do. But maybe this is also a season to think about what is expected of us, as well, part of the call to be disciples of the long-expected Jesus.

What do you expect this Advent? What might be expected of you, and me?

-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, November 25, 2013

A gallant faith

In this week dedicated to an attitude of gratitude, I’ve been thinking about the word eucharist, which in the Greek means thanksgiving. I recalled the different contexts in which I’ve presided at services of Holy Eucharist. Sometimes only a few folks, two or three gathered in Christ’s name. Sometimes hundreds. Some informal, others not so much. One liturgy that meant a lot to me, one for which I am deeply grateful, was a service I often led years ago at a nursing home, held on Wednesday afternoons. We met in a small activity room, not a chapel. Neon overhead lights. No candles. Well worn xeroxed orders of service. Bingo or bridge going on in the next room. Standard hymns we thought were widely known. “Amazing Grace” sung every time we met, though mostly it was an a cappella solo by the officiant (me) which was probably not the most edifying offering for those present. There were readings from scripture, which always included Psalm 23. And a brilliant homily, though I was never sure how my deep theological insights were received in this congregation where many battled dementia, and where others slept through the service.  Snoring was not uncommon.

Here’s what stands out for me about that service: We always concluded with a prayer, printed in those dog-eared leaflets, which years later I found in the Book of Common Prayer. It goes like this:

This is another day, O Lord.  I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be.  If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely.  If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly.  If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently.  And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus.  Amen.

I’ve said the prayer in other contexts, but in that setting, it really got to me. With most of the congregation either in wheelchairs or wheeled into the worship space on hospital beds, the call to faithfulness and gratitude in all of life’s circumstances was powerful and poignant. I found myself particularly focused on the phrase about being gallant in doing nothing. I was younger then, with little pastoral connection to folks nearing the end of life. I came to appreciate, to admire, to marvel at the courage of these worshippers. Many seemed to contend with some form of confinement. I sometimes thought of it as imprisonment. Most of my ministry up to that point had been with children and youth, invincible, immortal, mobile, lively. These older congregants, even those who could not speak, who could not remember me from one day to the next, became my teachers about living gallantly. When we prayed to be given the spirit of Jesus, I carried that aspiration with me from that place, into the world, at least for a little while. Isn’t that what worship is supposed to do?

This week, beginning with this day, November 25, 2013, is a gift you have been given. It will not be given again. How will you use it, this one time opportunity? You don’t know what it will bring. Neither do I. All we can do is to ask to be made ready for the day. Whether today we stand, sit, lie low, or do nothing, we ask to be brave, to savor the quiet, to exhibit patience, to do all of it gallantly. What would it mean to be a gallant Christian today? To live in the spirit of Jesus? To do so with grateful hearts, which would be a wonderful way to observe Thanksgiving.

-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, November 18, 2013

Yesterday’s collect

I did not come to the Episcopal Church until I was in my 20’s. I was drawn by artful and inquiring preaching, but also by the beauty of the prayers, the music, and, at the church I attended in New York, the architecture. Each of those elements spoke to me of grace, as I experienced the power of the psalmist’s call to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

But there was a lot that was perplexing. Case in point: Near the beginning of the service, I saw in the bulletin that there would be a collect of the day. Scanning quickly down the lineup of events, and mindful of cash (or lack thereof) in my young adult wallet, I noted the offertory as well. Collect and offertory? Do they pass the plate twice?  Can I afford this?

I came to know that the collect was about prayer, not revenue enhancement. I came to pay attention to the collects. In our tradition, we say that prayer shapes believing. These prayers, polished over the centuries in the stream of the communion of saints, teach us tons about what we believe. That is especially true of the distinctive collect read yesterday in church, read around this time each year, printed in the side column.

It’s notable because it focuses on scripture, and calls us to spiritual growth, as we take successive steps in our engagement with scripture. I often say that if you want to know what a liturgy is about, look at the verbs in the prayers. As this collect calls us to scripture, note the verbs, which indicate deeper and deeper engagement. 

We hear. We put ourselves within earshot of scripture. It connotes nothing more or less than openness. We don’t shut it out. It’s at least worth attention. Pretty low level of commitment, but a first step

We read. We see what it says. One priest I know says we not only read scripture. We let it read us. At this stage in the collect, we simply crank up the attention we pay to scripture. Maybe we even make it a point to do so as some kind of daily habit or spiritual practice.

We mark. We try to notice something important, some intersection with our experience, something that leaps out at us, maybe something that irritates us.

We learn. That’s what disciples are. Learners. We begin to apply it to our lives. We let it teach us stuff we didn’t know before, adopting that stance of humility that admits we don’t know everything, and we don’t know what we don’t know. As a result, we are different because of scripture.

We inwardly digest. Scripture becomes part of us. It is incorporated in who we are.

And, oh by the way, why do we do all this? Why do we engage with these ancient texts? The collect says that it is for the sake of experiencing hope. And come on, who could not benefit from a bit more hope?

As you think about your own spiritual journey, are you looking for a way to go deeper? The promise of this prayer, the experience of Christians of all kinds of persuasion, is that engagement with scripture will transform us, as Martin Luther suggested. You don’t have to like everything you read. You might want to read a passage and write down your reactions, insights, questions, things that warm your heart, things that make you mad. But it’s something we are each called to do. As one pastor said to his congregation: “I can’t read the Bible for you.” We each have the opportunity, the responsibility, the challenge, the grace of encountering God in scripture. What steps can you take to go deeper in that encounter, maybe starting this Monday morning.

-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, November 11, 2013

For Jonah, it was a great fish. For Balaam, it was a donkey. For St. Martin, it was a goose. Read on.

I began ordained ministry at St. Martin’s in Providence, Rhode Island, a church filled with talented artists and graphic designers and mad men (advertising types), graduates of Rhode Island School of Design who never left that interesting city. One of these graduates offered his ministry to the church, providing the parish with distinctive branding, rendering images of a goose, the symbol of St. Martin. Why a goose?

Martin, a saint from the 4th century was first a soldier, then a priest, then elected bishop. Like many wise folks who get elected bishop, when Martin heard the news of the vote, he ran away as fast as possible. Legend has it he hid in a barn, hoping the electorate would not find him. His presence was given away by the honking of the geese. Their noise trumped Martin’s reticence, and he was called, if not compelled, to distinctive service in the church, remembered over the centuries.

Those honking geese represent the truth about God’s call to us. When people hear the call of God, throughout the Bible, throughout church history, in their lives today, the reaction often sounds something like this: “The call is a wrong number.” “I’m not the person for the job.” “God’s recruiting skills have finally faltered.” “May I suggest someone else?” Has that ever been your reaction? Come on, fess up.

Martin is not the only bishop who took the job reluctantly. The history of the church is marked by people who wished someone else had been called, who do not feel up to the task. However, when it comes to call, the truth of the matter seems to be that it is not about how qualified we are. God does not call the qualified. God qualifies those who are called. God gives the gifts and resources to do holy work in the world. About all we have to do is echo the words of countless characters in the Bible who, when they hear God’s call, answer with some version of these three words: Here am I. And then, of course, be ready to be of service.

Speaking of service, it’s fitting that St. Martin’s feast day coincides with Veteran’s Day. (I invite you to pray the prayer for heroic service which you’ll find in the left hand column.) Martin is remembered for a story that took place while he was a soldier in the Roman army, deployed in Gaul. One day, as Martin approached the city of Amiens, he met a scantily clad beggar. Martin sliced his military cloak in half to share with the man. That night, Martin had a dream in which he saw Jesus wearing the half-cloak he had given away. He heard Jesus say to the angels: “Here is Martin, the Roman soldier who is not baptized; he has clad me.” For that reason, the gospel read on Martin’s feast day (again, take a gander at the side column) speaks about how we meet Christ, about how we grow in faith.

Today, this Monday in November, observe the feast of St. Martin, by keeping your eyes open for where you will meet Christ. Answer the call to do Christ’s work in the world. Maybe there’s an act of service you can do for our veterans, maybe nothing more or less than a prayer. God’s call comes to each one of us, whether we feel up to the task or not. The task may be daunting. You may want to run and hide. But in the divine sense of humor, there may well be a goose waiting in that hiding place to bring you back to the work God has for you to do. Or a great fish. Or a donkey. Or a beggar. Or a bishop. Or a brother or sister in Christ. Answer the call today.

-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, November 4, 2013

You gotta believe.

No, this is not a column about the Red Sox, but that was exciting, huh?

Earlier this fall, a friend shared a copy of a Wall Street Journal column. Written by Pulitzer Prize winner Henry Allen, the article described how all kinds of institutions in our culture seem to be adrift. Towards the end of the column, almost as an afterthought, he got to the topic of religion, zooming in on mainline denominations. He shared a quote from a young person he interviewed in Missouri when he met with her youth group. She talked about her church and said the following: “Episcopalianism is great. You don’t have to believe anything.”

Being a good Episcopalian, I experienced ambivalence about this quote. Since her quote had little context, I realize she could have meant many things. I wanted to talk with her about what she meant. There’s a part of me that likes what she had to say. Clearly, in her church, she had experienced a sense of welcome and belonging that came without condition (We all believe in unconditional love until we bump up against a condition we deem essential, but that’s a topic for another Monday.)

But even after giving her the benefit of the doubt, her comment is unsettling. Because I believe (There. I said it.) that what we believe matters. In the research that has emerged from the work we’re doing on spiritual growth, one of the key features of congregations that exhibit spiritual vitality is that members of those congregations have a capacity, a facility for describing beliefs and practices that they value, that they hold dear. That doesn’t mean that they impose them on others, use them as litmus test or as a bludgeon. But it does suggest that they can articulate beliefs and that they care about those expressions of faith.

And I believe that’s the key. It’s about what we hold dear. The Latin word for belief (credo) suggests that belief is more a matter of the heart than the head. Diana Butler Bass, in her book Christianity after Religion, says that the word belief really means something like this: “I set my heart upon”, or “I give my loyalty to”. It’s about what we prize, what we treasure. Dr. Bass says that in early English, to believe was really to be-love. For centuries, belief had nothing to do with weighing evidence or intellectual choice. It was not about a doctrinal test. It was more like a marriage vow, a pledge of faithfulness. It was about loving service. Again, it’s about what we treasure, what we love, where we give our heart. In the spiritual journey, we are each given the freedom and responsibility to think about where we give our hearts. To consider what we care about. To live by that. To do so with special reference to our relationship with God known to us in the Trinity: God known to us as creator, source of all life; God entering human history as Jesus, the one we follow; God present with us now as the Holy Spirit, comforting, advocating, guiding, nudging along the spiritual journey. God who asks for nothing more or less than our hearts.

Start this week thinking about where you are giving your heart, what you believe and be love. What does it mean to you to love God? As you think about that, do so knowing that before you figure any of it out (a life journey), you are held in love from which you can never be separated. Said another way, God believes in you.  I love that. I give my heart to that. I believe that.

-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, October 28, 2013

Be present.

In the spirit of full disclosure, you should know that I’m coaching myself this Monday morning. Feel free to eavesdrop, as I reflect on a few recent experiences. They may seem random and unrelated, but I think they have something to teach me. Maybe you too.

I had some free time last week between meetings in New York. I went to the Metropolitan Museum, and visited a couple favorite rooms. Some were packed with people. Others were empty. I gravitated toward the emptier spaces. Once again, I noticed with a sense of irony that the busiest space in the whole building was the museum shop. Why is that? Is it because we want to capture, to preserve, to own the experience? To have something to take away? Something to possess? It’s easy to get judgmental: Wouldn’t the time be better spent being present to the art, rather than browsing through reproductions to purchase?

Last August, my daughter and I traveled in Africa. We spent a day riding in a jeep in a game preserve. We were on safari, taking photographs of extraordinary animals. Digital photography means, of course, that you can take billions of pictures, which means that the camera is always poised in front of your face. It becomes the lens through which the world is viewed. Unless of course, the battery goes dead, which is what happened to us. Suddenly, we lost the ability to take pictures. I was disappointed. I wondered if the trip was ruined. My daughter, more spiritually evolved than I, quickly shifted gears. Nothing we could do about it. Nothing except (of course) to take in the marvels, enjoy the moment, let the moment be. By the end of the day, I realized the power in keeping eyes open, without worrying about preserving or possessing it for reference at some future date.

I went to a restaurant recently. In a nearby booth was a family, parents and two children. Each were on a cell phone, texting or playing games, doing business or checking calendars. Modern family quality time. I guess on one level, they were present to each other. But I wondered: What would their time together have been if they had asked for a basket from the waiter, had put their cell phones in that basket for the time they were together, and talked about their days, or even just talked about how hard it was to be without their cell phones?

My children, who often read these Monday messages, remind me that I need to practice what I preach. As someone addicted to email and smartphones and to-do lists, as someone who worries way too much about tomorrow, I see their point. The growth opportunity for me in the current chapter of my spiritual journey, when the future is not particularly clear, is to figure out what it means to be present, to approach each day with gratitude, asking God to be revealed in some way, ready for whatever encounter or task may surface, knowing that I don’t know what is coming in fifteen minutes, or on Tuesday, October 29, or next month, or next year.

An older parishioner used to tell me each Sunday that today is a gift, which is why it’s called the present. So, Jay, and any others paying attention, be present to this day. Be present to the people you meet. Be present to the lessons God has in store. And if that means putting down the camera or the smart-phone, give it a try.

If you need an example of what that looks like, read the story of how Jesus met people, especially as described in the Gospel of John. Eavesdrop on his conversation with Nicodemus in John 3 (a.k.a., Nick at Nite). Listen in as Jesus speaks with the woman at the well in John 4. Jesus only had a little bit of time to save the world. Take about an urgent list of things to do! It didn’t keep him from stopping and listening, remaining present to those he encountered. It was the way he showed love. Follow his example today.

-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, October 21, 2013

Bless you.

My office was pretty busy in the last week of 1999. I was working in New York City where anxiety was high, as folks wondered whether computer systems would crash at midnight on New Year’s Eve, Y2K. Remember that? It now seems silly how anxious were, but that week, a number of people came to my office to talk about where they were spiritually, in that momentous millennial shift.

One person, who had just starting poking his nose into the church, made an appointment, showed up at my office, and opened the conversation by saying: “I know this sounds dumb, but I was on the street the other day and I sneezed and a stranger said “God bless you.” I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what that means.” So we talked about blessings, blessings that come from God, blessings we give each other. All because of a sneeze. Go figure.

There are a number of ways you can translate the word blessing, but I like the literal meaning of benedicite. Break it down and it means to speak (dicere) well of (bene), to speak goodness. Of course that is anchored in the truth that before there was original sin there was original blessing. It’s no accident that of the two creation stories in the book of Genesis, the first one has God speaking creation into existence, punctuating the first five days with a note of approval, a blessing: “It was good.” The sixth day, when humanity emerges, gets even better. The divine review of that piece of work gets extra emphasis. God said: “It was very good.” Not a bad thing to remember on a Monday morning.

There is power in God’s blessing, God’s good intention, God’s grace, God’s embrace of each one of us. As we receive the power of that good news, we have the opportunity to pass it on. That power is something meant to flow from us, in all relationships. As we are blessed by God, we can bless back, joining with the psalmist who said: “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless God’s holy name”. And we can relate to each other in a spirit of blessing. Just speaking words of blessing can be transformative. We can offer blessing even to those who have injured us, even to those who have caused resentment.

A book arrived in my mailbox last week, written by Ed Bacon, rector of All Saints Pasadena, one of the liveliest churches in our denomination led by one of our livelier rectors. The book is called The 8 Habits of Love. I commend it to you, as a guide to the practice of our faith. It’s been a blessing to me. The first of these habits, generosity, finds its expression in a willingness to share blessings. Here’s how Ed describes a woman who mastered this spiritual practice: “She makes a point of complimenting one person every day, whether it is a stranger in the street or a friend at the office. She will tell a woman in the corner store that her shoes are wonderful or comment favorably to a man on the train about the book he is reading. Seeing the surprise on their faces, watching the transformation as the recipient acknowledges and absorbs the blessing is infinitely rewarding.”

One of my heroes and mentors was a priest named Craig Eder, who seemed to know God pretty well. I remember he was sometimes asked to say grace when we were in a public setting, when brevity would be appreciated by self-conscious Episcopalians. His table grace: May the blessed one bless. Carry that grace with you today. Remember the ways that you are blessed. It’s the way that you can be a blessing.

-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, October 14, 2013

Exploration

On this federal holiday, Columbus Day, say a prayer for the leaders of our government, for all who face hardship because of the shutdown, and for our common life.

And let me share a story which supposedly takes place after Christopher Columbus returned from “discovery” of the new world (Seems to me there were a few people who had gotten there first, but that’s another topic.) He had dinner with a number of Spanish nobles who apparently thought his exploration was not that big a deal. Anyone could have done it. If he hadn’t done it, someone else would have. Columbus responded by noting that anyone may have been able to do it, but nobody did.

To make his point, he asked his critics if they could get an egg to stand on its own. His dinner guests were unable to do it. After they tried (and tried and tried), Columbus took an egg, tapped one end ever so slightly and rested that egg on the slight dent, standing it on its end. It’s a parable about what it takes to be an explorer, to discover. It was a small thing, a parable issuing a call to think in new ways, to think outside the box, to travel in new directions.

I suspect there is a corollary to the spiritual journey. The Bible is full of stories of spiritual explorers, those who dare adventurous discovery.

It’s the story of Abraham and Sarah, who hear a call from God and leave the comfort of their homeland, heading to a new home, not even knowing where they were going. Where would we be if Abraham and Sarah had heard God’s call and decided it was a wrong number?

It’s the story of Mary, that young girl who is greeted by the angel who tells her she will bear a child that will save the world. Mary, even if a bit afraid, says “Let it be.” (She really said that. Paul McCartney didn’t make it up.) Preachers have speculated on how many other young girls the angel approached before coming upon this young girl adventurous enough to say yes.

It’s the story of Peter, impetuous disciple who never has an unexpressed thought, who sees Jesus walking on the water and decides, for some reason, that he can do that too. He puts one foot over the gunwale, then the next, defying gravity, strolling on the watery surface as long as he kept his eyes on his Lord.

It’s the story of Paul who captures a vision that the community of faith could indeed include all kinds of people who had been excluded before. Stepping outside of the box of his own tradition, education and upbringing, he travels around the Mediterranean rim establishing communities marked by this radical notion: In Christ, there is neither male nor female, slave nor free, Jew nor Gentile. Adventurous indeed. Where would we be if he hadn’t done that?

Take some time today to consider these stories of spiritual explorers, a great cloud of witnesses whose faith leads them to something new and takes them to places they have not gone before. Think of other examples. Ask God to show you some new way to put his love to work in the world. Ask God to guide you in that new pathway. It may be just a very small thing (like standing an egg on its end), but dare to say yes to the exploration of 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

MONDAY MATTERS
Reflections to start the week
Monday, October 7, 2013

The yoke is on you.

Last Friday was the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, described as the most admired and least imitated of saints. The power of his witness reverberates across the centuries, so much so that the new pope not only takes his name but embraces his spirit in word and action, symbolic and substantive. Francis of Assisi is remembered for his call to a life of simplicity and poverty. He is remembered for his love of all of God’s creation. He is remembered for a line attributed to him in teaching his disciples: “Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” The expression of his rigorous faith was marked by joy. Obviously, there is much to learn from him as we face this Monday morning and consider what it means to put faith to work in the world. How does his faith inform yours?

I draw your attention to the reading chosen for St. Francis’ day, from the Gospel of Matthew (chapter 11), printed at the top of the side column.  It is a call to all those who are weary and carry heavy burdens. Is that you this morning? To those folks, Jesus says: “Take my yoke upon you”. That hardly sounds like a message of comfort to the weary and burdened. Take on a yoke? How about something like: “Relax, put your feet up.” That sounds more comforting. Yet Jesus says that his yoke is easy, his burden is light. One more example of how the question “WWJD?” (what would Jesus do?) finds its answer in paradox.

What does it mean to take on that yoke? In my former parish, in the exploration of the dynamics of spiritual growth, there was a lot of conversation about beliefs and practices, about what is expected of us as people of faith. We recognized what many religious commentators have noticed: a shift away from dogma, so that belief becomes less a matter of the intellect and more a matter of the heart. (See Diana Butler Bass’ comments in side column and read her excellent book Christianity After Religion.) We spent time trying to articulate beliefs and practices which we held dear as a community. There was one in particular that got a lot of attention. It began like this: “Every person has the freedom and responsibility to discern the truth of God for his or her life.” Said another way: Everyone has both freedom and responsibility in discerning the course, the trajectory, the progress of the spiritual journey.

What seemed to catch people’s interest was the paradoxical mix of freedom and responsibility, the fact that our relationship with God has this synergy of grace and gratitude, God’s initiative and our response. Our community was well versed in the freedom of our faith, graceful hospitality to the seeker and skeptic, a refusal to check theological correctness, or to check one’s brain at the door. We knew well the amazing grace that each one of us is on a spiritual journey that matters to God. But we discovered another dimension: a sense of responsibility as we move forward in that spiritual journey, that literal sense of response to the grace that has come to us. Perhaps that sense of responsibility is the yoke Jesus commends. St. Francis knew about that yoke, as in the wisdom of St. Augustine, he lived a life of faith in God in whose service is perfect freedom.

How are you living into that responsibility as the week begins? How will you discern the truth of God in your life? We’re talking next steps, even baby steps. What are the resources you will draw on, as you discern the course of your spiritual journey this week? How will you take on the yoke which Jesus describes? How does it feel? Think about the ways St. Francis of Assisi might guide you in that process: with a call to simplicity, with a heart for those in need, with a sense of joy and wonder in God’s creation, in the preaching of good news, in word and action. Not a bad way to start the week. The ball is in your court. The yoke is on 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, September 30, 2013

It’s not all about Sunday.

This simple truth gets expressed in a variety of ways.

It was expressed by Archbishop William Temple who said that the church is the only organization that exists for the sake of those who are not its members.

It’s indicated in the sign I saw posted over the exit at the church which read: The worship is over. The service begins.

It’s the prayer after communion that asks for the strength and courage to serve with gladness and singleness of heart, a liturgical acknowledgement that it is not always easy.

It’s the claim that the dismissal is the most significant part of the liturgy, as we are sent out into the world to do God’s work.

It’s the habit of one peculiar priest (not naming any names) to conclude bible study with the “so-what” factor, i.e., an invitation to articulate and identify the relevance of scripture to life in the world. If you can’t come up with something, what’s the point?

It’s the theme of promises made in baptism, that we will proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ, that we will seek and serve Christ in all persons, that we will work for justice and peace. In other words, we promise to participate in the changing of the world.

It’s the beautiful poem sent to me by a beautiful friend last week. The poem, written by Mary Oliver, is entitled: The Vast Ocean Begins Just Outside our Church: The Eucharist. Thank you, Mary Oliver. Thank you, beautiful friend.

Something has happened

To the bread

And the wine

They have been blessed. What now?

The body leans forward

To receive the gift

From the priest’s hand,

Then the chalice

They are something else now

From what they were

Before this began.

I want

To see Jesus

Maybe in the clouds

Or on the shore,

Just walking

Beautiful man

And clearly

Someone else
Besides.
on the hard days

I ask myself

If I ever will.

Also there are times

My body whispers to me

That I have.

So put faith to work today. Sunday worship may seem to punctuate your weekend. Let it launch your week.

-Jay Sidebotham

Contact:

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