tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24670929216242699282024-03-13T11:31:26.830-04:00Rev. Laurie BrockCulture commentary by Rev. Laurie Brock, equestrian, author, Episcopal priest, and former attorney.revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.comBlogger353125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-21765737855758920022023-10-03T20:34:00.001-04:002023-10-03T20:41:22.152-04:00Fall is for Horses...and Reading!<p>Life happens, and it's been quite a summer. First, my amazing niece got married and I was a co-officiant with her pastor. I was delighted to be in that role and even as delighted to be part of what I've said was a High Church Baptist wedding. </p><p>Then, a month later, my father died...unexpectedly but his health had not been, well, healthy, for a few months. His presence with me and my sister and his grandchildren can best be described as when we were convenient for him. After he divorced my mother and very quickly remarried, he decided to his a hard reset button, and his life before that (including his daughters) was at best an annoying reminder of the first forty years of his life. My sister and I keep saying that one day the whole thing will be the kind of stories we laugh until our sides hurt, but right now it's just messy.</p><p>Then I did the Camino de Santiago...by HORSEBACK! It truly was the pilgrimage I didn't know I needed. To be taken on the Way with a horse whose name may or may not have been Mala Riena (as my friend Grace, who instigated this adventure says, we never saw her name in writing) was one of the holiest experiences I've had. </p><p>Which is to say I have lots of things swirling around, seasoning in my soul, that will eventually find their way onto a page. I'm working on a new book about the holiness of stuff and how things are tangible representations of holiness. Yeah, we all get that with pretty things like Icons and crosses, but what about the holiness of scars, of a handful of dirt, or of the photo of someone you'd just as soon burn than look at?</p><p>Yes, that kind of holiness.</p><p>Until then, here's an ask: if you haven't yet read <i>Horses Speak of God </i>or<i> God, Grace, and Horses</i> to pick up a copy, recommend it to a friend, or share this on your social media and encourage others to read. Small publishers really do depend on word of mouth (or word of blog) to sell books. I get that we all have complicated feelings about Amazon, and their Prime Days are coming up, so if you're checking out the deals on Insta-Pots (why are they always on sale?!?), pick up a few books from your favorite writers. Or better yet, go to your local bookstore and place an order!</p><p>You can click on the photos and go directly to the Amazon site. Yes, I have figured out how to do that...after writing books for over a decade. </p><p>I still think Tik Tok is a bridge too far. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://amzn.to/45hu9zz" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOay9Uc-KOvtIQHlmaXnkOwo1NvpPSAmgq8a5fnmjKQMUSanHww7jWqJ14LVXW08M9FZKIH5fm3iHcNtAUC7gCGngbkYKwQEtPqaNFJdGDzqCT5aaVZIaPdUAk2_7wd5NjWxl1rxX7HRhw-ECBuUoaouEbrlE53VTXnTFhC5P4JoSxPxnVO_Fr4lZ72wI/s320/9781612619293-page-001.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/God-Grace-Horses-Lessons-Saddle/dp/1640606076/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1726" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlHoLiYRzEnkZU9v72RrdD3S6hDEN2TomKOaLkZFg-9EbdPaTGH2hoHw9ZckeWtioBieaesmY_OWCxoOofZklHvQYjcg_-Hp47-Sj3L7Opee-dasRjVwRr_elhdB2i2zIqHyxWjzTiTNu_Nwic4IVZV0qQ7fUxJt6f9gVbJ5jB1j566npFrZ_BMWT5i4/w209-h320/IMG_9872.jpg" width="209" /></a></div><br /><p></p><blockquote style="border: medium; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div></blockquote><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-38235419843197184932022-06-27T20:35:00.000-04:002022-06-27T20:35:25.115-04:00I'd Love to Meet You!<p>Summer is officially here, and maybe this one will be the season we learn to live with Covid, keeping each other as safe as possible while living our life. The good part is that after spikes and hopes, I'm finally able to get some of the book tour back on schedule! So, if you're near places where I'll be doing readings and book signings, I'd love to meet you.</p><p><b>Baltimore, Maryland Saturday, July 9th from 3:00 pm to 5:00 pm </b>at <a href="https://www.thebookescape.com" target="_blank">The Book Escape</a>, within walking distance of The Episcopal Church's General Convention for those who are attending. </p><p><b>Lexington, Kentucky Monday, July 25th time TBA</b> (in the evening, though) at <a href="https://www.josephbeth.com" target="_blank">Joseph Beth Bookstore. </a></p><p><b>Berea, Kentucky Saturday, October 15th from 11:00 am until 1:00 pm </b>at <a href="https://www.thetalelessdog.com/?fbclid=IwAR2nZx7sn_gdGaa4ImoonOoKqjUtohc1wia2cYjLh8halhHZiXqWkOQcryA" target="_blank">The Taleless Dog</a>. This is a new, independent bookstore in a great arts community. I'm so excited to support them and Berea. </p><p>If you'd like to host a reading and signing, send me an email or reach out through social media! I've also done several Zoom readings/talks, and they are great ways to connect with readers and hear your stories about how horses and other forces of nature help you learn about God and grace. I'm always very excited to work with local bookstores for signings.</p><div><br /></div><p><br /></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-50173979016590972692022-02-14T13:29:00.002-05:002022-02-14T13:29:25.217-05:00God, Grace, and Horses Book Launch<p> Things I never planned to do - write a book during the pandemic. Then again, I never planned to live in a time of pandemic.</p><p>But here we are, still learning how to live in a time of panic. Perhaps writing gave me something tangible to do in the solitude that was the first almost-year of Covid. I have said repeatedly that God and horses kept me grounded in such an unsettling time. </p><p>I am so excited to share that <i>God, Grace, and Horses</i> will be released tomorrow, February 15 (also known as the day all the excellent chocolate goes on half-price sale). I'd love for you to join me online for our virtual book launch. Ask questions, hear about horses, and celebrate the love of God we experience through horses. </p><p>To register for the Book Launch, click <a href="https://us02web.zoom.us/webinar/register/WN_WgeR4uGYS0aZOaHARpjq3Q?utm_source=Paraclete+Press&utm_campaign=42dfc21c64-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2019_02_14_06_10_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_bed19e6d21-42dfc21c64-125331986&mc_cid=42dfc21c64&mc_eid=9862acf5ba" target="_blank">here</a>. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijgqwiBp9d9H1IyiJFqm5Tq2-NxiXurxN6Fe7gAzLkpFDr5-R_UwCT25qXgsI1V-L11W6iZov03gfvUCwYDBZlzEfvn_FVV1SjZYvVFIy8IygsH-fj5wVGI_78GK1qQ65h06OOLYkvcrbZw-kxlLrg5LiUDxxAjNV9jtUcj45B690A9_-cDfQoNBUS=s1564" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEijgqwiBp9d9H1IyiJFqm5Tq2-NxiXurxN6Fe7gAzLkpFDr5-R_UwCT25qXgsI1V-L11W6iZov03gfvUCwYDBZlzEfvn_FVV1SjZYvVFIy8IygsH-fj5wVGI_78GK1qQ65h06OOLYkvcrbZw-kxlLrg5LiUDxxAjNV9jtUcj45B690A9_-cDfQoNBUS=s320" width="230" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-5314429468475999322021-10-30T21:23:00.004-04:002021-10-30T21:23:53.167-04:00Happy Halloween<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjZbvBgy4PQnQrD2raHeiKOBKAXtMIh2_cvPIAy5e4GMf20e3iDzjqGFwle8qXi2uv3Fwxyda3dx3uM342kziaLzcJVVixrzDvkf22ShN_EO_mdBW02gpyf_YFtNC_BK4Fb17zrJHn_o/s1654/Copy+of+Halloween+blessing.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1654" data-original-width="1654" height="427" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjZbvBgy4PQnQrD2raHeiKOBKAXtMIh2_cvPIAy5e4GMf20e3iDzjqGFwle8qXi2uv3Fwxyda3dx3uM342kziaLzcJVVixrzDvkf22ShN_EO_mdBW02gpyf_YFtNC_BK4Fb17zrJHn_o/w427-h427/Copy+of+Halloween+blessing.png" width="427" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-38950677872928742512021-10-14T10:18:00.000-04:002021-10-14T10:18:13.477-04:00God, Grace, and Horses<p>To say the past almost two years have been trying is an understatement. We were living life, and then...</p><p>It all stopped. During the pandemic, so much slowed down, even stopped. The mundane events of life, like going to the grocery store, suddenly became filled with anxiety and worry for many of us. Daily routines that included meeting friends for coffee, going to the movies or concerts, and even going anywhere disappeared. </p><p>But life sped up, too. The numbers of our neighbors who became sick and died moved quickly from a few dozen to thousands and now to hundreds of thousands. We quickly shifted to online work, learning, and life. The emotional toll of this sudden and slow shift is being realized, and I suspect we are going to experience a grief crisis in this country. And no, I'm not really sure what that looks like.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEfs0Fw3pRugH6ebM14jZm_oqPeOU3zeEI9pVgCidTHsra9_cle5iZnnHEVUSLNfKJ3O8t1zwtg30FhwIYbZ9EDWSKtqQ1BSdeJd1UXH2SKkk3JYLTGEpNa83_rKFVU9imlyQr-dMcmQ/s1726/IMG_9872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1726" data-original-width="1125" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXEfs0Fw3pRugH6ebM14jZm_oqPeOU3zeEI9pVgCidTHsra9_cle5iZnnHEVUSLNfKJ3O8t1zwtg30FhwIYbZ9EDWSKtqQ1BSdeJd1UXH2SKkk3JYLTGEpNa83_rKFVU9imlyQr-dMcmQ/s320/IMG_9872.jpg" width="209" /></a></div>I signed the contract for my third book, <i>God, Grace, and Horses</i>, in the very beginning of this shift. The proposal that was accepted shifted and changed into the words that ultimately found the page, very often words that came slowly, even at an anguishingly halting pace. There were days I could only write two or three sentences that made any kind of sense.<p></p><p>This had not been my experience with writing. In the past, I have written that awful first draft reasonably quickly, then revisited it and edited and edited some more. No such steady flow of words this time. Covid, life, or maybe just having written for so many decades meant a change that felt uncomfortable and unsteady as I wrote. </p><p>Which, quite honestly, is where I as a minister and as a human feel most days in this not-quite post-pandemic world - uncomfortable and unsteady. But I still get up and pray. I still write, waiting for the stubborn words to surface so they can be engraved on the page. I still serve my congregation, and I still, always, ride horses. In all these things, I find moments of peace and certainty. They are not consistent, but they are there. </p><p>Perhaps that is how we endure, how we hope - to remember the things that steady us when the world is crumbling, to take the moments when they come and treasure them, and to know that storms do pass. </p><p>Weeping does spend the night, and joy does come in the morning.</p><p>Love reminds us that we do have experience and imaginations and skills as we navigate the next few months and years in the midst of all that continues to change. I've learned, as I wrote the words, slowly and annoyingly piecemeal, that hope is not only the thing with wings, the hope is the thing with hooves that grounds me, reminds me to be present, and tells me to trust God is with me, with us, in this change.</p><p>Hope continues to tell the story, word by word.</p><p><br /></p><p><i><b>God, Grace, and Horses</b> will be released in January 2022 from Paraclete Press. </i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-65317265934356037422021-02-17T07:49:00.001-05:002021-02-17T07:52:29.711-05:00Ash Wednesday Prayers<div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em><br />Given the reality of Coronavirus, many of us can't safely gather to mark Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. For those who would like to mark the day with prayer and reflection, I offer this at-home form of Ash Wednesday prayers. Gather with your household (pets included). Create holy space, perhaps at your dinner table or in a quiet corner of your home. Light a candle. Sit in silence for a few moments. Enter the silence and solemnness of Lent. You may also use the service in the Book of Common Prayer beginning on page 264.</em></span></div><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></strong></p><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Opening Prayer</strong></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><strong style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><strong style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">A reading from the Gospel of Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21 </strong></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Jesus said, "Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."<o:p></o:p></span></div><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></strong></p><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Reflection</strong></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">God is a fan of dirt, soil, the stuff of the earth. </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We read in Genesis that God took the </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">adamah</i><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">, the earth, and breathed God’s Holy Spirit upon the earth and made humanity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">On Ash Wednesday, we recall this holy moment in one of the prayers for the day – You have created us out the dust of the earth. At the Commendation in the Burial of the Dead, we pray, “You are immortal, the creator and maker of humankind; and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Too often we only associate this return to the earth only with death. Easily understandable. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">But God associates earthiness with life. We are indeed starstuff, but we are also earth, dirt, soil, and the very holy stuff of creation.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">My great uncle Leon was one of the foremost horticulturalists in Louisiana and across the Deep South. If you’ve ever put Tabasco on your food, you’ve benefitted from his work. He loved to consult with people about growing things, from companies like Tabasco to Miss Ellen, his neighbor in his retirement village who thought store bought tomatoes were an abomination, so she grew her own. Whenever people had trouble growing things, he generally said the problem was one of two things – they were either trying to grow something that wouldn’t grow in their dirt or they needed to let the dirt rest.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We humans don’t like limitations. If you can dream it, you can become it, we say. Except that’s not entirely true. Absolutely goals and dreams are wonderful, but we also have the reality of the dirt we have. There’s a reason Tabasco peppers really only have that Tabasco taste when they are grown in the soil of Avery Island, Louisiana. The soil matters. All the nutrients and fungi and other organic matter combine to make soil amazingly original. Different climates, varying sources of water, even the air add things to the soil that make certain dirts really amazing for some plants and horrible for others.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">We could see that as a limitation. Or we can see that as a gift, that God has created each of us in a unique way with facets and ideas that grow in the distinctive stuff of creation God has used to create each of us. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">The earth of our souls is not so different. What gifts grow in flourish in some of our souls simply can’t even create enough life to pop through the dirt of other souls. The trouble is, we humans start to compare ourselves with each other. We deem some things growing as wonderful and good and dismiss other shoots of life.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqnv2fteo6T7pT76UIHFbWTS-NERS-zxPaUsDWisy0MEXf-ei4bbpVwtXApcLtD6C34rVNkYy1C7qFBisdqoEnZ93a__tu7ib3HmvDEYZOotTFcf4jAcfYrhRknQpaJek7tcqBtMsAyE/s310/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqnv2fteo6T7pT76UIHFbWTS-NERS-zxPaUsDWisy0MEXf-ei4bbpVwtXApcLtD6C34rVNkYy1C7qFBisdqoEnZ93a__tu7ib3HmvDEYZOotTFcf4jAcfYrhRknQpaJek7tcqBtMsAyE/s0/images-4.jpeg" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Lent reminds us to dig in our dirt – ours, not someone else’s. What is the dirt God uses to plant love in us as individuals and us as a Church? What has God entrusted to grow in our souls? And are we trying to grow something that simply won’t grow well because our earth of God’s creation isn’t made for it? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">Lent is a time of self-examination, not only for our shortcomings and sins against one another, but also a time of self-examination for the ways we might celebrate the gifts that grow in our souls. What are we good at? What brings us joy? What proclaims love and liberation to us and to our fellow humans? What grows in the dirt God has given us?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">The other reality about dirt is that it needs to rest. Repeated use of the soil depletes it, exhausts it, until it can no longer support life. I suspect this is true for so many of us this Lent. The soil of our souls is exhausted. We have had to make changes in our lives and routines because of Coronavirus. We can’t hug our friends or go out for a long, lingering meals with colleagues. We are tired. We are anxious. We are sad. We may even be depressed. Our soil is depleted. We need to rest.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">For all the times I have preached about the foundations of Lent – preparing for Easter through self-examination and repentance, prayer, and reading and meditating on God’s Holy Word, this Lent, I hope we all keep Lent as a time to let ourselves, our souls, the very dirt of our lives in which God created us, rest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">This Lent, like every Lent, the fast that God chooses for us is one of love – love of God, love of neighbor, and love of self. I invite you, if you haven’t already done so, to get a bowl of dirt and put it in your home, on your altar, or somewhere you will see it each day. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68);">When you see it, take some time to reflect on what God has planted in you that needs attention, nurturing, and love to grow. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">And take some time to let that bowl of dirt bless your time of rest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">We are earth, infused with the very breath of God, to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke. But to do these things, we must let God’s love grow and flourish in us, and we must rest so we have the strength to respond to God’s call. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">God loves dirt. God loves us. This Lent, may we all return to the earth, the foundation, of our souls in God’s</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>The Lenten Exhortation</strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord's passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all <o:p></o:p></span></div><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">We are invited, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance, and as a mark of our mortal nature, let us keep silence before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.</span></p><p><em style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">After a period of silence, pray the Litany of Penance. If you are with a group, you may replace “I” with “we.”</em></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong><br /></strong></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Litany for Ash Wednesday<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">On this day, Almighty God, I remember that I am dust, and to dust I shall return.</span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em>After this and each petition, offer a time of silence. </em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><em><br /></em></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">I have not loved God with my whole heart, and mind, and strength. I have not loved my neighbor as myself. I have not loved myself as God loves me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have ignored your call to serve, as Christ serves us. I have not been true to the teachings and actions of Christ or followed the examples of the apostles in word and prayer. I have chosen my own desires over faithfulness to the Great Commandment to love.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have been unfaithful, prideful, and hurtful in my thoughts and actions, and I have exploited other people for my own gain.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have been angry at my own frustrations, and I have been envious at the good fortunes of others.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have turned from the ways of love and mercy. I have held grudges and have not forgiven others as I have been forgiven.<o:p></o:p></span></div><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have had uncharitable thoughts about others. I have expressed prejudice and contempt toward other children of God, especially those who differ from me. I have not loved those I consider my enemy.</span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">I have sinned against God, my neighbor, and myself by thought, word, and deed and in what I have done, and in what I have left undone.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">For these sins, for these shortcomings, and for my lack of love, grace, and faith, I confess to you. Merciful God, and ask your restoration and forgiveness.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p><em style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">After a time of silence, offer the following prayer:</em></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Have mercy on me, O God, according to your loving kindness; in your great compassion blot out my offenses. Wash me through and through from my wickedness, and cleanse me from my sin For I know my transgressions only too well, and my sin is ever before me. Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One, have mercy upon us. <o:p></o:p></span><br style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px;" /><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></strong></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Closing Prayer</b></span></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Almighty God, you manifest your servants the signs of your presence: Send forth upon all your servants the Spirit of your love, that in companionship with one another, your abounding grace, faith, and forgiveness may increase among us, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></p><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></strong></p><p><strong style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">The Solemn Prayer and Dismissal</strong></p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Grant, most merciful Lord, to all your faithful people pardon and peace, that we may be cleansed from all our sins, and serve you with a quiet mind and faithful heart; through Christ our Lord. Amen.</span></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Let us bless the Lord.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Thanks be to God.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: #444444; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15.399999618530273px; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div><p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></p>revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-71593627006837593872020-04-11T11:21:00.000-04:002020-04-11T11:21:05.252-04:00All Creation Waits...and Then...<div data-adtags-visited="true" style="background-position: 0px 0px; border: 0px; caret-color: rgb(161, 144, 144); font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 23.399999618530273px; margin-bottom: 23px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
“What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.</div>
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So begins one of the richest, most powerful homilies of the ancient church. On this Holy Saturday, creation holds its breath because Christ has died.</div>
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And yet, something IS happening.</div>
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Resurrection is happening.</div>
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<a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=1onh5ZJLWQtOlXRsE3mzbN_9iemLa2paO" target="_blank">Here</a> you will find prayers for Holy Saturday and the service for The Great Vigil of Easter. If you'd like to welcome Easter with us, the video will premier at 7:00 am on 12 April on the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDgikEbdX-C_WfvwL5ot_tA" target="_blank">YouTube channel</a> of St. Michael the Archangel Episcopal Church. Gather your candles. Open your Bible. </div>
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And welcome Resurrection!</div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-51690410601211086652020-04-08T11:23:00.002-04:002020-04-08T11:23:40.211-04:00Lamentation - Holy Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday In usual years, this Holy Wednesday means I gather with my congregation for a Service of Healing in the evening. It's based on the Orthodox tradition of offering ourselves for healing in body, mind, and spirit as we prepare to encounter Christ in the Triduum, the Three Holy Days, and welcome the transforming love we witness in these liturgies.<br />
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Because of the Coronavirus and the love we are all showing our neighbors, we are staying healthy at home this year and gathering in spirit and in love. I can't say there isn't tremendous loss for me in this. While I know we are absolutely doing the correct thing to flatten the curve and to make sure medical care is available for all who will need it during this pandemic, I am also grieving the gathering in solemn prayer, the beautiful hymns and anthems of our choir, the visual grandeur that the floral guild and altar guild create for each service, and mostly, the gathering of God's people.<br />
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This Holy Week reminds me God is the God who loves us enough to hold our laments, just as a parent holds a distressed child who cannot be comforted because life is too much and the feelings are too big to be easily fixed.<br />
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So we weep, and we lament, and we sit in this place.<br />
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And we pray with Jesus, who understands and welcomes it all.<br />
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The service for Holy Wednesday, featuring the Lamentations of Jeremiah chanted with intercessions in a time of pandemic prayed, is included, as well as the services for Holy Week at Home for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday in <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1onh5ZJLWQtOlXRsE3mzbN_9iemLa2paO?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Google Drive</a>.<br />
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The Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services will both be available on the YouTube channel of St. Michael's Lexington. Click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDgikEbdX-C_WfvwL5ot_tA?view_as=subscriber" target="_blank">here</a> to subscribe to be notified when they go live.<br />
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<br />revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-21695282946613322412020-04-07T13:16:00.002-04:002020-04-07T13:16:52.098-04:00Prayers for Tuesday in Holy WeekHi all!<br />
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Sorry for the delay - today is the only day in April that the city is collecting yard waste, so in that other duties as assigned category, I spent the morning getting limbs and dead leaves to the curb.<br />
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Here are the prayers for <a href="https://drive.google.com/file/d/1R93_4mCUFzhNxa0V3QHUrRrDBO_z4XUM/view?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Tuesday in Holy Week</a>.<br />
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Peace to you all this week.<br />
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<br />revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-54090262970173660492020-04-05T17:18:00.000-04:002020-04-05T17:19:26.746-04:00Prayers for Monday in Holy Week<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Monday in Holy Week</span></b></h2>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Prepare</span></b></h3>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i>Light your candle in your sacred space. Take a few moments of silence. You may choose to pray the Daily Office (Morning or Evening Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer if you choose). Otherwise, you can pray the following Prayer service (modeled after the short form of Noonday prayers from the Book of Common Prayer and Common Worship). This prayer can be prayed anytime on Holy Monday. This service is also located on the Google Drive <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1onh5ZJLWQtOlXRsE3mzbN_9iemLa2paO?usp=sharing" target="_blank">Holy Week 2020</a> for those who </i></span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i>would</i></span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i> prefer a printed copy. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Again, you can share parts with those in your household, call or use social media to pray with a group, or pray all the parts yourself. All are great ways to pray.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Pray</span></b></h3>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Opening Acclamation<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Officiant</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> O God, make speed to save us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">All</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> <b>O Lord, make haste to help us.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Officiant</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> My trust is in you, O Lord.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">All</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> <b> I have said, “You are my God.”<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">from Psalm 113 <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Give praise, you servants of the LORD; *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> praise the Name of the LORD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Let the Name of the LORD be blessed, *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> from this time forth for evermore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">From the rising of the sun to its going down *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> let the Name of the LORD be praised.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">The LORD is high above all nations, *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> and his glory above the heavens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit*<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> as it was in the beginning, is not, and shall be forever. Amen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">You may also read Psalm 22:1-11 instead. Psalm 22 begins on page 610 of the Book of Common Prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">A Reading from the Gospel of John 12:1-11<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, "Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?" (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me." When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">After a time of silence, all say the Canticle,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Canticle of the Passion<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Holy God,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">holy and strong,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">holy and immortal,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">have mercy upon us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">We glory in your cross, O Lord,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">and praise and glorify your holy resurrection:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">for by virtue of the cross joy has come to the whole world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Meditation - <a href="https://vimeo.com/399432463" target="_blank">Wild Geese</a> by Mary Oliver</span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Thanks to SALT for sharing this video.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Questions for reflection - what does your soft human body (as Mary Oliver writes) love the way Mary loved Jesus? What has that love looked like in your life? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">The Prayers<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Prayers may be offered for ourselves and others</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">The Lord's Prayer</span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy Name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">The Collect for Monday in Holy Week<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i>The service ends with the following</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i>Officiant</i> Let us bless the Lord.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><i>All</i> Thanks be to God.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Mary Anoints Christ’s Feet </span></i><span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">by Ilyas Basim Khuri Bazzi Rahib (1684) <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century schoolbook" , serif;">Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, Maryland<o:p></o:p></span></div>
revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-8423029570889245432020-04-04T17:17:00.001-04:002020-04-04T17:17:34.889-04:00Palm Sunday at HomePalm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week, the most important week of the Christian year in which we journey with Jesus from his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, into the Upper Room where he shares a meal with his disciples, to Golgotha and his Crucifixion, to the Resurrection.<br />
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In years past, we have celebrated these days gathered with each other in our faith communities. The reality of staying healthy at home means that all of us will be celebrating Holy Week at home this year. Several churches are offering prayers, videos and other multi-media to enable us all to pray each day. Maybe you've never prayed Holy Week - that's okay. If you feel called to pray them this year, join us as we pray together across the country, maybe even across the world.<br />
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On this site, I'll share the resources we are using at St. Michael's in Lexington, Kentucky. Use as you feel called, and please give attribute if appropriate. The written portion stands alone, with suggestions for keeping the day.<br />
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If you're interested in adding a video worship component, you can subscribe to St. Michael's YouTube channel <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDgikEbdX-C_WfvwL5ot_tA" target="_blank">here</a>, where the services for Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil of Easter will go live at the appointed time on those days.<br />
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For information on Holy Week at Home, including creating your sacred space for prayer and the service for The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, click <a href="https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1onh5ZJLWQtOlXRsE3mzbN_9iemLa2paO?usp=sharing" target="_blank">here</a> for the Google Docs link (here's hoping it works). I'll update for each day of Holy Week.<br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">in his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">and ever. </span><span style="font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">Amen</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Goudy Old Style", Garamond, Sabon, "Sabon LT Std", serif;">.</span></i><br />
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<br />revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-37995119307866355242020-03-30T17:17:00.000-04:002020-03-30T17:17:01.845-04:00Holy Week at HomeThis is unprecedented.<br />
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At least for most of us. Probably for all of us.<br />
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Granted, many of us have lived through events that have been unprecedented before. September 11th, Katrina, Superstorm Sandy, any number of other hurricanes and wildfires.<br />
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Yet even in that destruction - that massive destruction and trauma - parts of the world and our country continued mostly unscathed.<br />
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This is unprecedented because we are ALL in the midst of this. We are all in states and countries where COVID-19 has reminded us that we are part of nature, not in control of it. We are all wondering when we can venture back into our familiar spaces of work and worship and wondering how what we are going through will change these familiar places and spaces and our behavior in them.<br />
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For over 30 years, I have celebrated Holy Week and Easter in a certain way. I have gathered with my faith community and prayed ancient prayers, sang hymns, sat in the silence, and allowed the liturgy of the Church offered in community to move me, speak to me, and transform me.<br />
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This year will be different. I will not gather in the same space with my faith community. I will not hear the choir chant psalms or have the Altar Guild help me as we strip the altar. I will not wash the feet of others and let them wash mine.<br />
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I will not proclaim that Christ is risen and hear the joyful bells proclaim the victory of life over death surrounded by amazing people in the holy space of my parish. I will not embrace Christians as we hug in this joy, nor will I celebrate the First Eucharist of Easter in the physical midst of fellow disciples.<br />
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What I do know is that the holiest week of the Christian year will still speak to me, to us. We Christians will still pray together, albeit honoring social distancing. We will still be together, but differently, unexpectedly, and not always in a way that I will like or appreciate.<br />
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For those of you with a faith community and lay and clergy leaders who are providing ways to keep Holy Week at home, please participate. Pray, be still, and know that God is God. Create a sacred space in your home, an altar to focus your self and soul during these days. Pray the prayers. Allow the silence to sit with you. Make room for the longing, the lamentations of this different way of celebrating will most certainly bring. And make room for the hope that is there, too, that Christians have celebrated Holy Week and Easter in all manner of unusual, unprecedented, and odd ways over the eons. <br />
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I will offer on this blog the services that St. Michael's in Lexington, Kentucky is doing for Holy Week at home. Use them, if you like. Share them. Know that we are all praying together in this unusual way, and we are praying with God and each other in this way. There will be texts of readings and prayers as well as digital aspects that can be used (but don't have to be). Do what works for you and your household. Other sites will share, as well. As I am able, I will share links to those sites.<br />
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This is unprecedented, and God is unprecedented. The victory of life over the power of death is unprecedented. The proclamation to the world that Christ is Risen is unprecedented. The love we are called to witness and live during this moment is unprecedented.<br />
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And we are not alone.<br />
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God is with us, and we are with each other.revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-27803826466815608242020-02-25T19:42:00.002-05:002020-02-25T19:42:58.109-05:00Renew a Right Spirit within MeI'm in the midst of submitting another book proposal. It's an unnerving, humbling process. I have an idea, then live with it for weeks, even months, to see if it takes root somewhere. Taking root often means writing a few sentences and paragraphs to see if they can birth a chapter. If they do, I wonder if there are more chapters. Sometimes there aren't, and those words go into a place to germinate some more.<br />
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If something does take root, then I begin researching. Are there other books like this? If so, have any been written by women? If so, then I read them. Mostly at the same time. I am quite amazed there are people who read just one book at a time. I have my living room book, my bedtime book, my morning coffee book, my drink afternoon tea when I come back from walking Evie book.<br />
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One might say I have a problem, but that notwithstanding, I read the words written.<br />
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Which is excruciating and amazing, all at the same time. I read their writing, and I find phrases and sentences that I fall in love with. I underline them and re-read them and wonder how, just how, a normal human could write such a lovely string of words. I am amazed.<br />
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Then I think I might as well never write again, because I will never be able to write like that, that beautifully, that elegantly, that profoundly. I get discouraged, which, from what my other writer friends tell me, is fairly common. The devil lives in discouragement.<br />
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Writing is a ridiculously intimate discipline. Writers, especially those of us who share our writings through essays, sermons, poems, and books, know well what Hemingway meant by saying writing is sitting at a keyboard and bleeding.<br />
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That spirit of writing, our sharing ourselves, is a gift, and it needs regular righting, so to speak. We sometimes forget the balance between sharing what has been aged appropriately to share and publishing our diaries. We forget the balance between writing from our spirit and writing for our jobs. We stop seeing the way we use words and phrases and valuing the way God has settled these words in us to share and only see the value in the ways THEY write and comparing ourselves, mostly harshly.<br />
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And we get discouraged.<br />
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Life is discouraging. And just when the days seem tired and long, when winter has overstayed its welcome (at least in my part of the world) and we long for change because the present seems bleak, feels bleak, and is bleak, the Church whispers, "Lent."<br />
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Lent. Spring. Come.<br />
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Be silent, kneel, and repent.<br />
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Repent of the discouragement we've listened to that tells us we aren't enough, we aren't good, and we need to be silent and sit down. Repent of the words we've written and said that have hurt us and our friends and even those who were friends but because of words and actions, aren't anymore. Repent of the things done and left undone that tell ourselves and others, "You aren't enough."<br />
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Repent and be renewed.<br />
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Psalm 51, the psalm we say in response to the imposition of ashes, contains the petition, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." For all the many reasons I love Lent, I love the prayer to God to clean my heart. Clean it of the stuff that has accumulated over the year(s) that prevents me from loving God, loving my neighbor and my enemy, and loving myself. Polish the things that need to brighter, to shine more because I've forgotten they are Gifts of the Spirit entrusted to me to share with the world. And renew a right spirit within me. Renew my courage, my hope, my grace, and my kindness. Renew the Holy Breath within me because I am filled with some stale air.<br />
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Remind me of the words of Lent - self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; reading and meditating on God's holy Word - that they are ways to clean our hearts of the stuff we don't need and renew our spirits.<br />
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Blessed Lent. May you be created and be renewed.<br />
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<br />revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-37948018367354730342019-11-17T19:17:00.003-05:002019-11-17T19:17:40.922-05:00In That Room<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
That I am an Alabama alumni is not a surprise to many of y’all. I grew up cheering for Alabama football. My own relationship as an enthusiastic fan of football is waning. The evidence of CTE makes watching the sport less and less enjoyable knowing the cost some of its players will pay.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was out and about on Saturday, celebrating a parishioner’s birthday with lunch, checking out the grand opening of World Market, and attending a fundraiser for the Lexington Humane Society. In between those events, a fellow Alabama alum and more dedicated football fan than I texted me about the grave injury that happened in the game to the Alabama quarterback Tua Tagovailoa. He sustained a dislocated hip with a posterior wall fracture.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He’s clearly out for the season. He may be done playing big time football forever. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As I prayed Compline before bed, I held the image of that young man in prayer. We forget he’s really still a kid in many ways, lying in a hospital bed, awaiting experts and their diagnoses and treatments, wondering if the life he’d planned, the life he’d dedicated thousands of hours to, is done.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought about his parents and their worry, probably catching in their voices even as they tell him all of this will be okay. I thought of the coaches and all the second-guessing that is almost inevitably part of being indirectly involved in a tragic life-changing moment. What if, why did, did we…all of that fills the room, fills the souls of those who are reminded that life is so very random, so very not as much in our control as we always want to believe.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been in that room with parents, with spouses, with children, with loved ones in the aftermath of an unexpected health catastrophe, although my experience is that most health catastrophes are almost always unexpected. Some loved ones come into the room to sit for as long as they need to be present. They hold hands and check that the covers are tucked in and make small talk with the nurses when they come in to change IV bags. One person is randomly designated the contact person, answering the phone and responding to texts. “Yes, you should come. No, we don’t know more.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been in that room as some come inside the room for an instant and offer a moment of laughter with guarded humor, grasping at any of the resources we have in our souls to make this better, even for a small moment. Something, surely, will make it better. “He liked jokes. I know he can hear. He’d be glad you came,” someone offers. Others wait outside, as if not coming in the room and seeing the reality of the situation will make it less true. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been in that room as we wait for the doctors to deliver the news, some news, any news. Sometimes the news is good and hopeful, and everyone lets out the breath they didn’t realize they were holding. More than not, the words are vague and a source of moderate hope, but filled with more unknowns, more questions, more silence as tears are held back until we step outside so she won’t see how upset we are and he will know we are still expecting the best. Then there are the times the words are what we never want to hear. The doctor speaks, and then there is silence. That holy, heartbreaking silence that is indeed too deep for words.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve been in that room, offering prayers, which I know are helpful but often, in these moments, seem small and insignificant. I know they aren’t, and I also know how much I would give for this not to be happening, for these people not to be gathered here in the midst of this tragedy, this heartbreak. More useful seem to be the tissues I hand to people, along with the implicit permission to weep. “Have you eaten?” I always ask. Trauma either makes us ravenous or allergic to food – almost no in-betweens. I can’t undo this situation, but I can get coffee.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What if…why…how?” someone inevitably whispers. I learned long ago those aren’t really questions. They are laments to God, the anguish of the harsh reminder of just how vulnerable our human bodies are.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Tonight, a star quarterback for Alabama is in this room, and, with the family’s well-known Christian faith, I am sure their pastor is in that room with them, offering prayers and presence. Tua does not seem to be in a life-threatening situation, and there is still trauma, prayers, worry, and trepidation. There is still unknown in the room with them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m also aware that this same night, hundreds of others are in these rooms, in the midst of tragedy. They aren’t celebrities, so not as many people are saying prayers or asking how they can help. Their families and loved ones are gathered, holding hands, waiting, praying. All the hope and heartbreak are sitting in these rooms, too. Perhaps they feel too alone in these rooms. Perhaps they are alone. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe in our prayers, we can remember them and those who love them, those who are in these rooms tonight. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-35450122618371002952019-08-20T14:57:00.002-04:002019-08-20T14:57:56.856-04:00Margins<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I’m editing my book collection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Our public library has a fall book sale, and receiving the reminder postcard was a motivation to admit I could indeed cull some books, many of which I bought from previous sales, from my shelves. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And from stacks on the floor. And a few stacks on tables. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Some books I’ve read and enjoyed, but don’t feel compelled to keep. I added a stack of the historical figure quasi-romance novels to the box. They were entertaining at one point, but not now, given that far too many write about the Tudor era and muck up the facts about the church. A few old seminary text books that were written for a church two decades past went in the box. And one Evelyn Underhill book.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love Evelyn Underhill and her writings about mysticism. The problem with the book? It has no margins. The pages are thousands of words from the top of the page to the bottom, and small print, at that. The book was a review copy, so my hope is the final copy had margins.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Because a page with no margins feels too congested to read. When I tried to read some of my favorite passages on mysticism, the sheer enormity of the words on the page and the almost comprehensive lack of any space in between the words, sentences, and paragraphs felt alarming to me. Any sense of contemplation, silence, and observation that Underhill’s words communicated were obscured by the physical appearance of the words on the page.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I hesitantly added this book to the pile, I wondered about the margins in my life. Too often, we flee from one meeting to another, from one moment to another, without any margins. We wake up in the morning and go. And we keep going until we sink into bed at night, hoping sleep will provide the blank spaces, the gaps, and openings we need for rest. Any pseudo-margin time we may have we often multi-task, checking our emails or social media while drinking coffee to keep us going at top speed. Then, quite often, we’re surprised when our rest (or lack of it) at night reflects the go-go-go of our days. Having the dozens of pages of our days occupied completely can rarely be balanced by one part of a blank page on rare occasion. <o:p></o:p></div>
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As a priest, I find this practice more seductive than it ought to be. The cult of busy-ness invites us to write the narratives of our day from top to bottom, side to side, leaving no margins for quiet, for breathing, for contemplating. A surprise moment of down time comes and too often our first inclination is to fill it with something. </div>
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A reality is sometimes our schedules simply squeeze out margins. Unexpected events and moments mean we will add a scribble into the margin on the page of our day. But to add these surprise events, the unplanned moments, and these extra words life often gives us, we must indeed have the space to begin with. We must have the margins.</div>
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Margins are the quiet space, the moments Jesus sails across the lake for time on his own, the languid meals between disciples on a beach, the long walks across the wilderness. The margins give us time to reflect, to do nothing, to be in our selves and souls, and to rest. They are necessary for life.</div>
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How do we create these margins?<o:p></o:p></div>
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The liturgy of the church has some excellent examples. Most Episcopal churches don’t begin immediately with the acclamation (the opening words of worship). Most have times of silence as worshippers slip into the pews and sit or kneel in prayer. Perhaps they just sit and peruse the service bulletin. All of these create a space, a margin to set apart our time with God. </div>
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Other churches have musical preludes before worship that aren’t wasted time, but instead a margin in which we can sit and breathe with the rhythm of the music, allowing for space between whatever narrative life is writing and the holy words of God. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I think about the margin I need before worship, before focused time with God. When I come in, rushed from whatever was in the hour slot before prayer and slide in, either exactly on time or late, I have no margin to allow for transition. I’ve squeezed the words of God into whatever space I have left. Does God still love me? Of course.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But have I likely missed some words that would have benefitted my soul because I didn’t allow space in the narrative of my life? Probably so.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Evelyn Underhill writes, in one of my favorite insights, “We mostly spend [our] lives conjugating three verbs: to Want, to Have, and to Do... forgetting that none of these verbs have any ultimate significance, except so far as they are transcended by and included in, the fundamental verb, to Be.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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We all find ourselves filling in the margins of our lives with words written by our own desires, our own wants, our own egos, and even our own anger (my spiritual director loves to remind me how anger often masquerades as too many things to do because then we can be too busy to sit with it). When we find ourselves with too many words on the page, perhaps we can settle into the words of Evelyn and remember to be. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Be still. Be quiet. Be present with some beautiful music or a friend in conversation or a walk in nature. Be willing to explore why we may need to fill in the margins, and be open to see that, in the open spaces in our days, God waits for us to be present.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Be in the margins.</div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-69640239067668025722019-08-09T16:13:00.000-04:002019-08-09T16:13:17.860-04:00Did You Get My Text?<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
A reality of our world today and our relationships today is the amount of time we spend communicating verbally but non-verbally – all those emails, texts, direct messages, emojis, gifs, and other ways we share information with each other without actually being in each other’s physical space.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I love that with my close friends who live hundreds and even thousands of miles away, I can share some element of my mediocre daily life while I’m standing in line at Target (I came in for moisturizer and dog treats. I’m leaving with an entirely new décor for my living room. How’s your day?); notify a friend meeting me for lunch I’m running late or that the parking in our favorite ice cream place is, as usual, something akin to the fires of Mordor; and exchange pictures of our various loves on four legs – horses, pups, and kitties. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This communication matters. What can seem like unimportant information of the common moments of our lives reminds us of the uncommon beauty of relationships. The text about a new book we read or movie we saw that left us in ugly cry tears is worth sharing. The emoji that communicates a day of frustration and exhaustion reminds us we aren’t alone. The tweak of the Holy Spirit has often found me via any number of texts, emails, and messages, reminding me of the vast community of love that holds me, especially in the moments I feel most unsettled.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And this communication has its limits. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I have found, mostly through my own error, that these types of communication are fabulous ways to share information, but tragically inept ways to engage in serious and significant conversation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Why?<o:p></o:p></div>
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For one, so much communication occurs non-verbally. When we are discussing significant topics and entering into the holy space of vulnerability and honesty, we share our selves and souls in what we say and, even more so, in what we don’t say. How we are physically present with ourselves and the other, how we respond to silence that is so valuable to these significant conversations, and how we are in conversational dialogue rather than short speeches we tap out via our phones all communicate care, distrust, love, and even hate.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Texts and emails are essentially short monologues. They are not conversations. I say something, then wait for someone to respond, usually readying my own response rather than taking time to listen (or, more accurately, read). Messages get delivered out of order, and how we interpret various texts and emails often has much to say about us. Too often, we are texting while we are doing any number of other activities. Again, if I’m sharing random notes of my day, that’s acceptable. If a friend is trying to talk about the grief she’s experiencing on the anniversary of her wife’s death, I don’t need to be texting her while I’m pouring a glass of iced tea while watching the timer on my microwave tick down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I need to be present to her and to the holy words we share with each other. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We often fall short of this presence, whether we are in each other’s physical space or talking on the phone, but hearing another’s voice, seeing another’s pattern of breath or how they fiddle with a random piece of paper, provides the presence of the other and not the presence of a keyboard. In these places, we are incarnate with each other, not a phone or keyboard. We can take a moment; we can ask for clarification; we can see how the other responds. When I have only to look at a phone, I’m essentially locked in an echo chamber with my own ego.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve also long thought, when I’ve engaged in difficult and challenging conversations via texts or emails, if I’m not trying less to find a resolution and more to control the narrative. A fearful part of vulnerable and honest conversations is the lack of control. I have to share my truth, and I am called to hear the truth of another. In a wonderful world, those coincide and all is right with the world. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In the world in which most of us live, those truths are often opposed, clouded in misunderstandings and our own baggage, and shaded by past wounds and fears. When I hear how my actions or inactions have hurt another, I am invited to delve deeply into my self. I am invited to confess my limits of love in thought, word, and deed. And I may be invited to have courage to share how another has hurt me, not in defense of my actions, but in hope of reconciliation of relationship. Monologues do not do this; dialogues do. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’ve become more comfortable with sharing, when a conversation via text or email ventures into this particular holy space of communication, that this topic seems better discussed in person in incarnational dialogue. Some people agree; others don’t. That tells me much of what I need to know about how they understand dialogue. A good guideline is that texts and emails are wonderful for information, but not so helpful for communication. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Our human relationships matter, especially for those of us covenanted in faith communities. We are so fortunate to have many options to share the momentous and miniscule events in our lives to build, deepen, and strengthen the ties that bind us. May we value them all in their place as they build, piece by piece, moment by moment, the relationships with each other.<o:p></o:p></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-70131064063110428182019-06-19T07:49:00.000-04:002019-06-19T09:03:47.960-04:00The Articles of Religion In the back of the Book of Common Prayer are a stash of pages collectively known as the historical documents. Early in my Episcopal faith, I mined them during particularly boring sermons and too-long lasting committee reports during church conventions for artifacts of our Church's relationship with our past understanding of God. These historical documents include the Creed of St. Athanasius (most likely not written by St. Athanasius, but a fairly good sermon for Trinity Sunday if you need one); the Preface from the first Book of Common Prayer (I'm still stunned there are lay and clergy who've never read and inwardly digested this); the Articles of Religion; and the Chicago-Lambeth Quadrilateral (I'm still stunned there are lay and clergy who haven't memorized this).<br />
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The Historical Documents are actually more than relics of our faith; they are foundational to our Episcopal faith. They show us, as much as an edited document can, the concerns, the questions, and the hopes of our ancestors in the faith. And I argue none of these documents does this moreso than the Articles of Religion.<br />
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The Articles, 39 statements, in a way, of faith adopted (sort of) by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church in 1801, invite us into the conversations and questions our Episcopal Church and the Christian Church as a wider body have struggled with for centuries. Not only are they worth reading, they are worth studying and struggling with.<br />
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And thankfully, Young Peoples' Theology Blog is doing just that. They have been publishing essays that invite our conversation with each of the 39 Articles. I commend them to you - the essays are engaging, informative, and challenging, just as our faith should be.<br />
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Check out this series. For those of you looking for a summer adult forum, it's an excellent subject. Pick a few articles. Read them. Learn about our faith. Agree and disagree. But, above all, know about the past and present and future of the conversations we've had with each other about how we live out this great mystery of faith.<br />
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You can find the blog <a href="https://yptheology.org/blog/">here</a>.revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-85543099037678889682019-03-31T14:10:00.002-04:002019-03-31T14:12:19.307-04:00The Puzzle of Lent<div class="MsoNormal" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: auto; word-spacing: 0px;">
Without much thought, I started a puzzle on the day before Ash Wednesday. It’s a winter snow scene of Gethsemani, the monastic community best known for having Thomas Merton as a member, and a typical winter landscape of barren trees and grey. Lots and lots of grey, with the chapel centered among the snow and ice. I put most of the border together on the first day, less one piece that made me certain the puzzle had come defective.</div>
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I found the one edge piece I was missing a week later, nestled among the 500 pieces less the ones that formed the border. Then I started with parts of the picture that seemed easily identifiable. These did not include the barren trees or what looked like 837 pieces of shades of grey and white snow. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And through the days of Lent, I’d stop by my dining room table, half filled with papers and tax documents waiting for me to finish organizing them to take to my accountant and half filled with a puzzle that exists in various stages of incompleteness. Each day of Lent I’ve put a few new pieces in place, survey the entirety of the puzzle, then go off to whatever life holds for the next few hours. On rare occasion I’m able to sit down for a significant amount of time to piece together this puzzle. No matter the length of time, slowly, since Ash Wednesday, I’ve realized putting together this puzzle has been quite the Lenten discipline.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Well-known preacher Joel Gregory says oftentimes, the best sermons find you. This Lent, I’m reminded the best Lenten disciplines find us, as well. God, spread across the dining room table in 500 pieces, nestled in my life in a brilliant Lenten discipline about life and faith. With each piece I’ve put in place, I’ve had time to ponder and reflect on all that is a life of faith, our ministries, and what lessons I always need to remember. So what has the puzzle of Lent put together for me?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--> <b>Find the boundaries</b>– Maybe some people put puzzles together in another way, but for me, finding those border pieces creates a defined space for all the other pieces to come together in a full picture. Our human lives mirror that in an absurdly perfect way. We must define ourselves first to hold all the stuff that is us, the fullness of God in us, together. We can’t depend on other people to define our boundaries, because others are neither responsible for nor capable of defining other’s boundaries. We can't even depend on roles developed by others to define us. We must deeply know in our selves and souls we are beloved of God. In that love, I can fill in with all sorts of things. In that love, I recognize where I begin and someone else ends, and I'm not hoping something or someone will define me. But make no mistake, forming the boundary is work, lifetime work. But worthwhile and necessary work.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b>Sometimes the big picture helps, but don’t forget to notice the small details</b>– I have a friend who loves puzzles. She puts together 10 million piece puzzles that are entirely one color for fun. And she thinks using the picture on the box is cheating. Me? I need to see the big picture to notice where the chapel windows are and which shade of grey I’m working with. And I need to notice the small details – the different types of barren tree branches, for example. As a minister, my life involves knowing the big picture things, the rules, we might say, of pastoral care, of church leadership, of preaching, and of liturgy. But the nuance of knowing the person with whom I’m sitting in grief, the history of the church I’m helping lead, the congregation to whom I’m preaching, and the deep, rich ages of ages story of the liturgy that holds us together helps me see the important detail of the big picture. Too often I see ministers of all types (lay and ordained) frustrated because the approach they learned in seminary falls flat with a certain pastoral situation or the authority they wield in one area of life with success does damage (or at least makes people really aggravated) in another area. Human relationships with each other and with God have some commonalities, and they are not always subject to a neat and tidy checklist. Know the rules and guidelines, and be wise, courageous, and stupidly faithful enough to know when to break them. That only happens because we see the vastness and the minute parts of it all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b>Do the easy parts first</b>– Really, I’m not too proud to say life in faith is a marathon that can leave us weary. And I’m reminded, before I launch into the meetings that will be challenging, into the pastoral situations that will bend and break my heart, to do the easy parts first in my day or my week. Here’s where I get in my pulpit and say the easy part is almost always prayer. Not easy in that "comfortable and always fun" way, but easy in that my body knows when I light the candle and take three deep breaths, silently saying The Jesus Prayer, my soul knows exactly what to do because I've done this prayer for decades (inching into quarter century time). And, thanks to Brother Lawrence, I also know how to find the easy things as I practice the presence of God. When you see your pastor or congregation leader doing something that seems to be not their job, they might be doing something easy because sometimes (lots of times) we have to face uneasy, difficult, and arduous tasks. Folding bulletins, cleaning the silver, arranging the chairs for Sunday – they are the easy parts we can do in prayerfulness to ready ourselves for the harder tasks that await.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">4.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b>Sometimes you simply have to try the pieces until you find one that fits</b>– God knows we all want success right out of the gate, and yet, that’s rarely the way faith works. As I’ve filled in the easier parts of the puzzle, eventually I’m left with the pieces that are all one color, and there’s one way I’m putting them together: I'm going to try a piece in differing places until it fits. Trying different options and approaches until we find one that fits is tedious. tiresome work. We often will opt for something that almost fits and force it. In a puzzle, that throws the whole puzzle off, and I suspect it does the same thing in our lives. Faith is fabulous, and faith is tedious. When it’s tedious, keep working, because eventually something drops into place. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">5.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><b>Time gives us vision </b>– I know people who would sit down and do this puzzle in a few days, even hours. I’m easing in to the fullness of Lent to put it together. And this is the valuable lesson God has pieced together for me (more of a reminder than a new lesson, but still) – time gives me vision. I may fit a few pieces together, then hit a wall and walk away because life is waiting and the microwave let me know lunch is ready. And then I come back the next day while I’m waiting for the kettle to boil and, without any effort, immediately see the way other pieces fit together. Our absence from a task is as important as our focused presence on it. God works in the fullness of time, even (and I’d even say especially) in the waiting of it, in the moments we’re away from focused attention. We go on with our daily activities, then return to a situation, a prayer, our discernment, and realize we’ve given God enough space to give us a new vision, some new insight, even the ability to hear the new thing God wants to tell us. Ministry is as much allowing things to unfold in their due season as it is working and planning. If we try to control all of faith and ministry, we’ve also controlled God right out of the equation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m down to about 40 more pieces. They are all the same color, so I very well may slide in just under the line of the Saturday before Palm Sunday to get this put together before Holy Week begins. And when I do, I’ll take a photo of the whole puzzle, put together, and leave it on the table for Holy Week, giving thanks for the lessons God reminded me about life in ministry and life in faith through 500 pieces. Then I’ll disassemble it, put it back in the box (hopefully without losing any pieces).<o:p></o:p></div>
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And on Easter Monday, I’ll begin this 1000 piece puzzle I purchase when I visited the Grand Canyon. Because the lessons from God never end. <o:p></o:p></div>
revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-21171961563637275662019-01-30T11:43:00.000-05:002019-01-30T11:48:51.434-05:00The Work of Goodness<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
I love the liturgy of the Episcopal Church because in it, I am reminded who I am and who God calls me to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am reminded faith is not all about me or my preferences or opinions or thoughts or ideas, but a part, a God still counts the hairs on my head part, but indeed, still a <b><i>part</i></b>, of eons of humanity’s experiences with God and their response in those experiences.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am reminded of humility, that the prayers of thousands of years invite me into a wisdom and insight I could never experience on my own.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am reminded I love the liturgy of the Episcopal Church, and that love does not need to discount or disregard other expressions of worship in other denominations or even in other Episcopal churches. In fact, if I do that, I am missing the point of liturgy. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Liturgy, which is often simply translated into "the work of the people," has a more profound aspect to it than that. Scott Gunn ad Melody Wilson Shobe in their excellent book <i><a href="https://www.forwardmovement.org/Products/2463/walk-in-love.aspx">Walk in Love: Episcopal Beliefs and Practices,</a> </i>reach into the soul of the word by reminding us liturgy is an offering for the good of all people. They say, “In this way, our liturgies are meant to be public works, that is, offerings for the good of the whole world.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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The liturgies of the Episcopal Church are offerings for the good and ways to remind us of the goodness of God, the creation, and our place in it. When I officiate at a Baptism, I am part of the gathering of God’s people who witness the courage of the one being baptized (or their parents) to say to the world, “We believe in God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit and we will follow the way of love!” in a culture that too often demands we follow the way of fear and self-interest. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr44Um0AsAbhVsdamFfATypkz6f9kWgKsI_C1ZgPEtkvedXePXE591Akw7o_RKxbgCgQMTyJ0xOYhOBkvFdLQbtc8ZFA5TRJV6MQarMLsAKJjsRJNS5E1rY_PxE43gfRUZD7JrCEW3efc/s1600/IMG_0733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr44Um0AsAbhVsdamFfATypkz6f9kWgKsI_C1ZgPEtkvedXePXE591Akw7o_RKxbgCgQMTyJ0xOYhOBkvFdLQbtc8ZFA5TRJV6MQarMLsAKJjsRJNS5E1rY_PxE43gfRUZD7JrCEW3efc/s320/IMG_0733.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
When I celebrate the Holy Eucharist, I am present with Christ in a way that words simply cannot describe, even for a writer. Every part of the liturgy engages me. The Eucharistic prayers, those I adore and those I pray because I vow obedience to the doctrine and discipline of the Episcopal Church, all narrate the great act of Christ’s love and ask us – yes us, we untidy, odd humans – to participate in that act with Jesus! The feelings of the items on the altar - the sharp, starched crease of the corporal, the weight of the chalice filled with wine to be consecrated, the hosts, even the two or three rogue ones that eternally escape the edge of the paten, and the voices of the people gathered proclaiming, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again” all stop time and space as we pause at the moment between God’s inhaling before the great exhale of the Spirit that brings created and re-created life in a new way. Even when I've listened the the Eucharistic Prayers prayed in a language other than English, I know them and hear them with my self and soul. The words of the Eucharist, in their great mystery and truth, are bigger than one language or expression. We gather in that eternity in all the messiness of our diverse humanity to receive the Body and Blood of Christ and remind ourselves who and whose we are. And that is good.<br />
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Or when I officiate a burial. Grief, while painful, is a reminder we had the courage to love and we have faith that our love does not die at death, but is changed into eternity with God. And every prayer of that service embraces love and grief together in the great narrative of faith. I have yet to say the words “yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia” of the prayer at the Commendation without feeling that physical presence of grief and love that surfaces with a catch in my words. Every time. Those words are the vocabulary of grief and hope bound together in the community of saints, and I love them for bearing that truth. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And the Daily Office, that (as once described by a seminary professor) old warhorse of the Book of Common Prayer. I have prayed those words in fear and trepidation, in exhaustion and anger, in celebration, and in ennui. They find me wherever I am, and remind me of God, of the simplicity and the complexity of love. I have prayed the Office in Westminster Abbey and at my dining room table over coffee, in the Tomb of the Holy Sepulchre and in the graveyard at Gethsemani Monastery, on my front porch after the devastation of Katrina when the humidity caused large drops of sweat to drop onto the page and on the beach with friends when the wind was icy and blustery, but we were determined to say the Magnificat together that evening. Those words have been my holy companion for decades.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Wherever I am, the liturgy of God finds me and brings me back to myself and to God. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I love the liturgy of the Episcopal Church because I have surrendered to its words of love, its words of Good News. They find me scattered and smothered and meet me there in prayers I have prayed them for so long they seep forth from my heart. God in the liturgy lavishes me with the prayers of thousands of years of the people of God, reminding me of the great cloud of witnesses that prays with me, with us. </div>
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In our liturgy, we pray with each other, for each other, in the company of all our thoughts and emotions. We pray with God, who has given us the work of goodness. <o:p></o:p></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-81614118952027614772018-12-03T10:41:00.002-05:002018-12-03T12:30:17.270-05:00We Sat. Waiting.<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Decades ago, which unsettles me somewhat that seminary is that far in my past, my spiritual director and I sat in silence before we began to speak about all things stirring in my soul during Advent. For me in seminary, this meant final papers, exams, travel plans, an upcoming meeting with my bishop, and responsibilities in our seminary chapel as well as the church where I served.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I had much to tell her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And yet, when I walked in and sat down, after our initial greeting, she invited me to wait with her in silence before either of us said anything else.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">My busy soul did not want to wait. The first few moments were filled with itchy irritation, an urgency swirled inside of me that wanted desperately to speak NOW, as if my words had a shelf life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But she was my spiritual director and a nun, and few things snap me into obedience like the holy sisters of our faith. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">So I sat. Waiting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We sat. Waiting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting in silence. We were in the presence of each other and our souls for what seemed like hours. Slowly, the urgency of my words unknotted in the space. I felt my shoulders drop several inches. My emotions of the day and the week and of the time since we last spoke began to order themselves into discernible feelings instead of the one that took up the most space in my soul because it shouted the loudest. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Only then, after the air in the space between us leveled, the mountains of urgency brought down and the valleys of the things I really needed to speak of were lifted up, did we begin with words of prayer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And in that one moment, I realized one of the vital messages, the deeply crucial lessons of Advent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We humans need to practice waiting.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">But we don’t. We live in a world of instant opportunities to comment, to like, and to share. When we send text messages or emails, we expect an immediate response. We want next-day delivery from books we order online and from God when we engage in deep discernment. And when it doesn’t come, we become like a three year old who has had too much sugar and too little sleep. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting gives us space and time to hear the voice of God in the cacophony of our lives. When we are grieving, anxious, or angry, all the voices are yelling at once so we hear only the loudest (which is almost always not the one we need to heed) or the noise combines into silence and we have no idea what to do. We react with only impulse and without holy wisdom. </span>Waiting is that moment when we can’t remember the name of someone or a book title in the moment, usually because we’re distracted or our brains are working overtime, and in the quietness of washing the dishes or watering or plants, it comes to us. We recognize what we need to know, what we need to be aware of, or even what we need to remember because we wait.</div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When we wait, we remind ourselves that some moments and events in our lives demand we give our selves and souls time to unknot, to breathe deeply and to listen to the voice of God leading us almost always on a path we likely don’t want to walk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Pastors and therapists often advise people to wait for some time after the death of a loved one before making momentous decisions, if circumstances allow. Rebound relationships after a divorce or ending of a relationship are cautioned against because they don’t allow for waiting, and often cut the wound in our souls even more…or allow us a continued way to ignore unhelpful patterns in our own lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">A rabbi friend of mine, while we were co-leading a retreat on anger, suggested we allow three days before responding to something that made us angry to give God time to sort our emotions, a bit of wisdom that has helped me many times and, when I’ve ignored it, I almost always find myself wishing I hadn’t. He remarked that if, after three days, we were still angry at the situation or person, we could then ask God to reveal how to move forward with the process of repentance with kindness and love. But often, he added, in three days, we might realize we are really angry with something else and the situation or person triggered us. Waiting with God offers a way for us to begin to understand what we are ignoring in our own lives and what we need to focus on without the damage our actions and words in haste may add to the situation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting gives us that space to enter the wisdom of our unconscious as almost nothing else can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting is deeply open-ended. When I consciously engage in waiting, whether it be waiting to respond to an email that feels wounding to me or engaging in prolonged discernment with God, I have ceded control of a situation. I have consciously, although not always happily, acknowledged that my first response or my hundredth response may not be helpful or loving. I may have to hear a holy No or a holy Yes or a change of plans. But only waiting for what may come will offer this insight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting is scary. Humans have an innate fear of the unknown, and waiting, being the open-ended act of faith it is, plunges right into the unknown with God. The unknown with God is oftentimes scary and fearful. Anger is almost always fear’s bodyguard, so when I feel anger take all the air in my soul by yelling the loudest, God almost always reminds me to wait and pray while anger sorts herself out into what I’m angry about because something is wrong and hurtful and what I’m angry about because I’m afraid. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Waiting is a profound act of humility. When we sit, waiting to renew our car tag, how many of us are annoyed because we have other things to do that we deem more important without regard to the people working at the desks and their circumstances or stories? How often are we mad that the schedule doesn't fit OUR timeline? Waiting invites us to crawl our of our own skins, our own experiences, and our own egos that whisper words of temptation making our schedules, needs, and time so much more valuable that others. Waiting reminds us, in a deeply grounded way, that life is not all about us. We are part of a larger creation, and all creation waits.</span><br />
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">God is a God of eons. God is not a fan of instant gratification. Instead, the people of faith wait for miraculous births and wander for forty years as they are shaped into the people of God. We Christians wait for three days to see if Jesus will be resurrected. Waiting, in only the way waiting can, puts us in our human place to allow our souls to wait for the guidance of the Lord.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Advent is a season the church dedicates to waiting, to being courageous enough not to react instantly, but to sit and let the crashing waves of our souls still in the presence of God. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">This Advent, find time and space to wait, in open-ended, courageous, and humble faith. </span></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-65531887820782688902018-11-14T13:08:00.000-05:002018-11-14T13:08:38.114-05:00Book Review: Denial Is My Spiritual Practice<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><i>The following is a review of <b>Denial Is My Spiritual Practice</b> by Rachel G. Hackenberg and Martha Spong. I received a complimentary copy of the book to review. Last May. And I'm thankful their book reminded me imperfection is okay.</i></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Women of deep, messy faith get married. And then they get divorced. And then they get married again and divorced again. Or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">They live with depression and PTSD and all sorts of illnesses that remind them and us we often collapse under the weight of things done to us and left undone to us and sometimes, many times, for no discernible reason at all. Because mental health matters are not signs of weakness or sin or bad living. They are part of life. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Women of deep faith have moments of beautiful, lyrical poetry and prayers and sometimes just sit in the fear and frailty of all that is life and realize they are one stolen truck shy of a country song.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Women of deep faith hate walking labyrinths but love the peaceful elixir that is a Starbucks chai latte.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Women of deep faith fall in love with people and are often surprised by that love and scared of sharing the joy of this love with their family members. They also would like to be surprised by love and a bouquet of flowers but realize the energy of cleaning the house for the flowers would just be too much, so single life is good. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">In a world of books that tell women to wash our faces and simply live our best lives and love Jesus and all will be AMAZING, I am thankful for the messy, vulnerable, hilarious, and often painfully honest of the words Rachel Hackenberg and Martha Spong share in their book <i>Denial Is My Spiritual Practice (And Other Failures of Faith)</i>. In essay pairings, they write of their faith that is less sure and certain and more stumbling, running, crawling, and on occasion traumatizing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">While the exact fact situations may not resonate (although my guess is in our darkened closets more of us have been victims of abusers, struggled with parenting, and questioned our assumptions about sexuality than not), the emotions will resonate. Their deft narratives of love, hate, fear, fragility, gratitude, doubt, frustration, joy, and more love are excellent reflections for any person of faith who needs to hear the words of God that life is hard, hurtful, and messy and is glorious, joyful, and loving and all of these are necessary. I deeply appreciate that neither Martha nor Rachel felt compelled to end the essays with tidy resolution. A few find their way to a sort-of ending, but most invite us to reflect, to feel unsettled, and to allow their words to start a conversation in our own souls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Full and fair disclosure - I received this book early this summer to review, but life is messy and plans fall to the side and I finally got around to reading and re-reading this book now. And I think it’s a wonderful book for Advent. As we sit in the ever-growing darkness of the natural world and sometimes feel like love’s grip on the world is failing, find a moment. Light a candle and breathe a bit. Really breathe, like wear yoga pants so nothing constricts you breathe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Then read some of the essays. Sit with the feelings they release in you. Remember your own life stories. Maybe read this book a part of a small group and listen to the stories these words birth from one another.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And remember all the stories, the ones from these two women of faith, from the people who read these words, and the stories of our own lives, the ones we shout from the mountains and the ones we keep buried deeply in the boxes of our souls…all these stories…are held in love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And then end your time with Rachel’s amazing version of I Corinthians 13.</span></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-29478474178861245462018-10-31T12:37:00.001-04:002018-10-31T12:37:08.886-04:00Let Evening Come<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;">Jane Kenyon’s poem <i>Let Evening Come</i> captures the gentle voice of God, the words of the saints, and the wisdom of the matriarchs and patriarchs of our faith reminding us that darkness is as holy as light, that the endings of days and events and relationships and lives are not the absence of God, but the profound presence of an aspect of God we can only see because we are not blinded by the light of our own egos.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Today, the day of Halloween, begins the Autumnal Triduum. I love that phrase. The syllables move us from the long days of summer, the lushness of the earth and the ripeness of all that is creation, to the waning light that is its own slow holiness. The three holy days of autumn - All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day, invite us into darkness slowly and easily, as only a human constructed calendar touching the mystery of God can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Today, All Hallows’ Eve, we dress in costume, we get treats from neighbors, we laugh at being scared. Tomorrow, many Christian traditions will celebrate All Saints’ Day, a day we commemorate and remember the saints of the church, those whose heroic faith serves as a witness to us. Saints are bigger than life because, well, they are saints. And their deaths are infused with meaning in a particular way. They died as a witness to the love of God. Some cared for the sick while all others fled for their own safety during epidemics until they, too, succumbed to illness. Some devoted their lives to prayer by walling themselves in small cells, praying for hours and days and weeks for the world until their dying breath. Some stood on the front lines of love and acceptance, standing between hate and humanity when bullets rang out, saving our lives from the hell of hate while giving theirs. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When I think of the saints, my grief is a small part of the memory, if it’s there at all. Most of the saints lived long ago, and the stories of their lives of faith and their deaths in faith are inspiring rather than sad. They have become saints of the ages and in that transition, left some of their humanness behind. The more modern saints crack the door open on grief and sadness, with the stories of their deaths. The image of the nun wailing over the bloody body of The Rev. Oscar Romero or the photo of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s children viewing his body as it lay in repose remind us that saints are saints because they were often martyred (a Christian word for murdered) for their faith and that martyrdom was wrapped in the grief and sorrow of those who loved them. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQAUxmCtOr9uwwwazhhE4QXRTn2y_nilvQOepYTA3ThRwcf97OuKv1LtfLLxV4IIzl6iAl5JSGDAI0JZLZJ02SDj_ErqaHtDzd-ZTVkWMCZPjj4Ci5qiI_TkWCBRrixzo3HwJzg3csDA/s1600/IMG_3327.HEIC.heif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDQAUxmCtOr9uwwwazhhE4QXRTn2y_nilvQOepYTA3ThRwcf97OuKv1LtfLLxV4IIzl6iAl5JSGDAI0JZLZJ02SDj_ErqaHtDzd-ZTVkWMCZPjj4Ci5qiI_TkWCBRrixzo3HwJzg3csDA/s320/IMG_3327.HEIC.heif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset at Yellowstone's Lamar Valley<br />Photo credit Laurie Brock</td></tr>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And then, we are invited into the fullness and the sorrowful beauty of our own grief on All Souls’ Day. November 2nd is a day set aside to let evening come, to be enveloped by grief with hope. But we humans are better at hope than grief. Hope is more fun. She makes us feel good with stories and inspiring speeches. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Grief asks us to stop moving so much, to stop being busy, to stop explaining that we’re okay, and to sit while evening comes. I’m not sure anyone willingly invites grief to the party; she just shows up uninvited, often suddenly and unexpectedly. And we ignore her until we’ve exhausted ourselves with being “fine” and spill a cup of coffee one day and collapse into snot-filled sobs because we miss our spouse or our parent or our friend who died and we just need to feel sad and wail at the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And in that moment, God holding grief’s hand and holding ours, too, reminds us that evening does come and God is there. Always. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">A faithful life isn’t devoid of grief; it recognizes grief is holy and sacred. And on the last day of the three holy days of autumn, we are invited to grieve all that has been lost in our lives - those who have died, but also those things our culture doesn’t invite us to grieve. On All Souls’ Day, grieve the relationships that have died because humans are complicated and our relationships mirror that messy complexity. Grieve our animal companions whose love is so pure it gives us a glimpse of God each time we mourn them. Grieve the changes that have come in life that have shifted us into a new place, even if the new place seems like it might be good, change is still a loss, and loss is still sad. Grieve the friend whose picture shows up in Facebook memories a week after she died much too young and much too soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Grieve the violent hate that took the lives of a man and a woman in Kentucky who were murdered because they were Black and eleven people who were murdered at Tree of Life Synagogue because they were Jews. Grieve that hope sometimes feels far away, too far away. Grieve that Matthew Shepard’s parents could not bury their son for 20 years after his murder because they were afraid his grave would be desecrated and our LGBTQ+ companions in life are <b>still</b> afraid for their lives, especially from those who also claim the faith of Jesus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Fall onto the floor of the earth, let the tears flow. Wipe snot on your sleeve and cry so much you wonder if you’ll ever stop. Wail for all that is sorrowful and heartbreaking in this world. God will be there on the floor with us in our grief and sorrow and wailing. She always is.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Let the holy darkness settle in, and let this holy day give us courage to grieve. Hope will be born soon enough, but for now, let evening come.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;"><i>Jane Kenyon’s poem, Let Evening Come, can be found </i><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46431/let-evening-come"><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><i>here</i></span></a><i>. </i></span></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-38119137921899328742018-10-02T09:28:00.000-04:002018-10-02T09:28:02.579-04:00Calling Your Soul Home<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Helvetica Neue"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">You may have noticed, since the action around the blog was almost non-existent for a few months. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">In almost 20 years of ordained ministry, this was my first sabbatical, and I didn’t quite know what to expect. And I was joyfully surprised.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Yes, I traveled. I rested. I cleaned out closets and a few boxes I’d never unpacked since I moved. I rode horses, then rode them some more. I read books that had nothing and yet everything to do with God. And I rode horses again. I rediscovered pray as an act of worship and be-ing instead of just one more thing to do for the clergy resume.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And I realized how little importance most of us give to the commandment about sabbath. My rabbi friends remind me the commandment to remember the sabbath and to keep it holy is the longest commandment as written in Hebrew. That length should clue us in to its importance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Sabbath isn’t simply not working; it’s a particular aspect of rest. Sabbath reminds us we have work to do in the world, and we also have work to do on ourselves. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I’ve heard a story about stopping our bodies to wait for our souls to catch up over the years in various incarnations. The basic themes of the story include Anglo explorers or missionaries or archaeologists going through the jungle or mountains or otherwise non-Westernized terrain. They have with them members of the Native culture who are with them. At some point the western men are up early and ready to go and the Native peoples refuse to move. After much cajoling and whining about how the team needs to get going, the Native peoples respond, saying that they walked so fast that they need to sit awhile and let their souls catch up with their bodies. The Western people suddenly realized some deep truth and all is right with the world.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">I think the story and example is problematic on several levels, least of which I’ve always heard it used in sermons by white men and the congregation inevitably oohs and aahs as if we’ve never heard that our souls need time to rest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">As if we’ve never paid attention to the commandment to keep the sabbath or the numerous examples of Jesus going away to a quiet place or Mary pondering all these things in her heart or the communion of saints who needed to sit awhile in silence. Not, I think, to let our souls catch up, but to gather our souls back within us. Our souls can move quite quickly, I think. Often faster than our bodies. But they also scatter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">We humans, in our need to be busy and to feel important and to give to everyone who comes knocking, scatter parts of our selves and souls. We also live in a culture where people too often feel entitled to take parts of other people’s souls, even when we hear otherwise. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">One aspect of sabbath is giving ourselves time each week, maybe even each day, to track down our soul. Is it all within us? Great.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Are their pieces of your soul that have been left with parents who are grieving the death of their child from addiction? Did some part of your soul remain with the woman who’s co-worker raped her because her soul is too shattered by violence to hold together for now? Are you weary from the parts of your soul that get broken by the constant news cycle of hate, discrimination, and oppression?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Locate those parts. Know where they are. Call them back to you through prayer, silence, art, or however you find helpful. And trust they will return. Or, if it’s not time for them to return, remind them where home is and that this is not a permanent loan.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">The other pieces that have been taken, where are they? Are their people who have demanded pieces and parts of you that you did not want to give, who have not heard your, “no” and keep plowing forward into your life? Women’s souls particularly get strung out in this place, where we see - again - the phone call from a particular person and sigh as we answer it, forgetting we can take a sabbath if needed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Where are those pieces of our souls? Who has stolen them, and again, what do we need to do to call them back to us…and what do we need to do to make sure those soul suckers are kept at a safe distance in the future?</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">When God implores us to remember the Sabbath, God is recognizing that we have a tendency to forget, to ignore, and to disregard the care and keeping of our own souls. Or we commute the sabbath into a day of running errands and cleaning the house and doing all the things that didn’t get done in the busy-ness of the past week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And God is writing in all the words - DO NOT DO THIS.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Keep the Sabbath. Take dedicated time each week to care for your soul. Be still and quiet. Pray. Do nothing (those who read me enough know I’m a big proponent of holy boredom). Fiddle. Weep. Laugh. Pray some more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">Locate all the pieces of your soul. Call some home. Note where others are and how long they might be away on loan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-kerning: none;">And breathe deeply into all that is. </span></div>
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revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-84832658555153463272018-08-15T11:35:00.001-04:002018-08-15T11:35:17.089-04:00Write What You Don't KnowI've heard that bit of writing wisdom...write what you know.<br />
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And yes, there's truth in that. I never need to write a book about physics.<br />
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I also think some of the best writing that is waiting to be born onto the page is that which surprises us with its vulnerability and its insight that we ourselves didn't expect when we started the essay.<br />
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If you're interested in learning how to write what you don't know in the realm of non-fiction writing, I'll be presenting a workshop this Saturday, August 18th, at Brier Books in Lexington, Kentucky. You can register <a href="https://www.brierbooks.com/event/write-what-you-don%E2%80%99t-know-and-discover-workshop-laurie-brock">here</a> or call the store and reserve a spot. I'll be addressing a broad spectrum of non-fiction writing, from personal journaling to essays for publication to articles for newsletters.<br />
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Bring whatever tools you need to write (laptop, journal, paper and pen) because we'll be doing some in-workshop writing.<br />
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Join me at Brier Books and let's learn what we don't know.<br />
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<br />revlauriebrockhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07678346331976194571noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2467092921624269928.post-79496676750262359942018-07-07T12:46:00.005-04:002018-07-07T12:46:49.821-04:00Truth and Reconciliation...It's Time<div style="box-sizing: border-box; caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: #333333; font-family: lora, serif; margin-bottom: 10px;">
I appreciate the boldness of the promise in the Baptismal Covenant about evil and sin. It states: Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord? And we all reply, “I will, with God’s help,” often not fully digesting the promise we’ve just made.</div>
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I appreciate the boldness that in that promise, we don’t quibble about <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">if</em> we are seduced by evil, <em style="box-sizing: border-box;">if</em> we explain, justify, or even enjoy the benefits of evil and sin. We admit we do, and we remind ourselves we, as Christians, are never defined only by our sins because repentance and reconciliation is always — always — an imperative for Christians.</div>
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Repentance and reconciliation are not merely options, but expectations Jesus has for those who follow him. We are invited to repent and return to the Lord. This repentance, this turning away from sin and its consequences in our lives, gives us new life and hope.</div>
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We promise this to God and to each other, to recognize the times we’ve embraced sin and its consequences, and to repent and find our way forward into restoration and reunion with love.</div>
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I love that part, that reconciliation, that restoration of community and relationship, when what has been done and what has been left undone is cast in the past and we step into newness of life. Angels sing, the sun shines brightly, and unicorns skip across the meadows.</div>
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What I don’t love is the muck to dig through to get there. I don’t enjoy hearing how I have sinned, how I have benefitted from sin, and even how I have knowingly and even unknowingly sinned against others. I don’t love the truth part of reconciliation.</div>
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None of us do, I imagine. Because hearing we are far from perfect, hearing we have acted in ways that do not respect the dignity of others, hearing we have not loved as we can love is not an ideal way to spend an afternoon or a convention.</div>
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Yet that part, that hard, messy, even painful part that we call confession, is an act of courageous love. To hear about sin and to hear about the pain sin inflicts, not explaining it away, not saying, “But I didn’t mean to…” (because let’s face it, many of our sins that cut and wound each other are often unintentional), in the face of another’s truth, is a moment we connect to the meek king who is Jesus.</div>
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In February, the president of the House of Deputies asked me to chair a subcommittee on Truth and Reconciliation regarding women and sexual abuse, harassment, and gender discrimination in the church. Before accepting the chair, I sat for many days with the promise we as members of the Episcopal Church make to God and each other about sin and repentance. I thought about the sin that places women in an inferior category that allows and even invites inequality, abuse, and harassment. I prayed about how even to begin a process of truth and reconciliation for a sin many leaders in the general church believe is either a figment of the imagination of women or is only a rare event, perpetrated by an occasional bad apple in a leadership position.</div>
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Studies and surveys from other mainstream denominations refute both of these propositions. Instead, they reveal to us that the systemic sin of ignoring, demeaning, and debasing those who identify as women is pervasive in the church, and damaging both to the women who are victims and to the community of the church. These studies show that women do indeed tell their truths, but that those in leadership positions do little or nothing to respond.</div>
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Statistics tell us that a woman you know, from whom you have received the Body and Blood of Christ is being subject to harassment and abuse simply because she is a woman. And she is being subject to this harassment and abuse by a fellow Episcopalian.</div>
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We have indeed fallen into this sin. We are sitting in the muck and mire of a dearth of justice, equality, and love.</div>
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But the Good News is we don’t have to stay here.</div>
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Jesus holds out his hands and invites us to take them, pulling ourselves upward and outward into newness, into equality, and into love. We can turn from this sin, to strive for justice and peace, mercy and love, and equality and dignity for women in our church and in our world. We have a chance to step into the messiness of confession and hear the truth. We will feel uncomfortable as we hear these truths. We will want to explain situations away, argue the budget can’t afford this work. We will want to move quickly to an easy but unhelpful and fragile restoration, saying fervently that hearing the stories is enough.</div>
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Our process of reconciliation and restoration in the church calls for confession and a turning away from this sin, an action that changes us. Some call these acts of contrition. I call them doing justice. After all, as Cornel West reminds us, justice is what love looks like in public.</div>
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I had the privilege of speaking with the Rev. Allan Boesak, a minister in the South African Dutch Reformed Church and anti-apartheid activist about his work with truth and reconciliation in South Africa. I asked him what he would suggest to us as we contemplate a truth and reconciliation process. His answer was profound. He said, “We forgot to ask what justice would look like to those who were harmed.”</div>
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The holy words of truth, justice, and love guided us and filled our prayers as our subcommittee engaged in this process. Two resolutions came from the time of conversations, prayers, and work of the women on this subcommittee. In committee, the two resolutions were combined. The resolution calls for a creation of a task force to hear the truth of women and men in our church who have been demeaned, abused, harassed, and discriminated against because of gender. Thankfully, our Methodists sisters and brothers did a comprehensive survey several years ago and have generously offered to assist us as we begin the courageous act of faith and love to hear the truth in our own denomination.</div>
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We explain in the Resolution:</div>
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<i>for the purpose of helping the Church engage in truth-telling, confession, and reconciliation regarding gender-based discrimination, harassment, and violence against women and girls in all their forms by those in power in the Church, making an accounting of things done and left undone in thought, word, and deed, intending amendment of life, and seeking counsel, direction, and absolution as we are restored in love, grace, and trust with each other through Christ;</i></div>
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My hope is that the General Convention heeds the example of Jesus and thousands of years of faithful Christians and humbly, lovingly, and courageously enters this time of confession and reconciliation as we strive to love each other as we desire to be loved. My hope is that women and men of the Church will want for those who identify as women in the church the same rights, dignity, and safety as those who identify as men regularly receive. My hope is that we pass the resolutions as a tangible witness of our belief in this reconciling love Jesus preached, lived, and believes we can embody.</div>
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My fear is that we find speaking words of justice and love much easier than acting on them, that voices will continue to embrace excuses and shortcomings as “that’s just the way it is” or we will continue to deny that gender discrimination is alive and even nurtured in the Church. My fear is that we will continue to deny the place of women in our faith.</div>
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I fear, but I hear the voices of women and remember always, always to hope.</div>
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We are the children of Tamar, of Rahab, and of Ruth. We drink the living water brought up from the depths by the Samaritan woman who asked for that living water at the well and who held with Jesus one of the longest conversations in the Gospels. We cry out for justice and help with Hagar, the first person in Holy Scripture to name God. God heard her and hears our cries yearning for justice and help in the face of oppression. And we sing with Mary who birthed Jesus into the world with courage and love. We live in the hope of the women who went to the tomb and who were entrusted, above all others, to announce the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.</div>
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Because of their witness, because of their love, we live in hope. I live in hope that we will follow their witness and as a church, embark on the journey to be restored to that place where women and men are equal in all aspects of our faith.</div>
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<b><i>Many thanks to the women who served on the subcommittee for Truth and Reconciliation and especially to Jennifer Reddall and Julia Alaya Harris for their dedicated work, faithful prayer, and many editing sessions with me as we wrote this Resolution. The Resolution can be viewed <a href="https://www.vbinder.net/resolutions/D016?house=hd&lang=en">here</a> and should come up for a vote in the House of Deputies today or tomorrow. Your prayers and support are welcomed as the Episcopal Church hopefully takes this courageous step into truth and reconciliation.</i></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">This article originally appeared in House of Deputies News, July 6, 2018 at the <a href="https://deputynews.org/truth-precedes-reconciliation/">this</a> link. </span></i></div>
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