Rest in Peace

Laid out on a small rise just behind a shattered trunk, under the watchful eyes of forest sentinels, the skeleton rests on a bed of moss. No funeral wrappings other than the tender hemlock seedlings pushing up between disarranged bones. Hooves, their soft black sheen evidencing recent attempted flight, and a pelvis, set a bit apart, witness to the savage tearing limb from limb.

The trees gather around this fallen one of theirs. Theirs to feed, shade, protect and, after the grisly picking clean, to grieve. Mute mourners, no hint of blame…just acceptance: this is the way of things in the wild. A doe. And on the other side of a slender, moss-covered sapling, hardly further than the length of an umbilical cord, four tiny hooves and three bones; the rest of her baby small and light enough to carry off to be enjoyed elsewhere.

 

Their branches spreading overhead, spruce and hemlock shelter the gravesite that, months hence, will have disappeared under the soft blanket of the forest floor.

Alaskan Passage

It has been a little over a month since I returned from a week-long meditation/writing/kayaking retreat on the Inside Passage in Alaska. There were just fourteen of us at a small lodge that sits on the shore of the Keene Channel, several miles north of the Wrangell Narrows. These past four weeks, I have been planning to write this post as a way of kickstarting a writing practice that has been more intention than reality for too long. Now, finally, it’s time.

 

For seven days, two of them mostly travel, I stepped out of my life. Or, rather, I took an amazingly beautiful alternate route through a world of towering spruce and hemlocks, wildlife-filled waterways and the freshest air on the continent of North America. A scenic byway along which I meditated and noticed details with all five of my senses (seeing, hearing, touching, smelling and tasting). A less worn trail with just a few fellow travelers, kayaking, reading, writing and sharing. A pilgrimage during which, as the days passed, my mind, my heart and my spirit opened. My lungs filled. My soul drank.

 

Sometimes you have to just get away, right? You have to be someplace else in order to find your bearings. It just so happened that every one of us, in that little band of ten retreatants and four supporting staff, was contemplating or moving through a transition of one kind or another. All of us were navigating that liminal space between what we had been doing and what we were thinking about doing next. We had all come to listen: to listen to ourselves, to one another, to the breathtaking natural world that surrounded us, to the whatever or whoever was present with us, in us and among us in that energetic field that sustains human existence.

 

For the first couple of days all I could do, in response to the “invitations” offered by the poet who facilitated our writing, was jot down random words and phrases in my “Rite in the Rain” notebook. From the first page, below my name: “tenderness/textures/soft undulating hillocks/bright green tan brown; fleecy covering of moss; harsh edges mute now once sharp”. And below that a sketch of a tree trunk. On the third day, triggered by a discovery on one of the islands, some internal dam gave way. As prose began to flow, I realized that the crafting of language is both nourishing and deeply rewarding for me.

 

So what does that mean in practical terms? I don’t know exactly. But I do know that I have come back from Alaska more committed to my writing. And that this space is the obvious place to begin working that out. I will be sharing a couple of short pieces from my trip here. And then, after that, you who are reading this are my witnesses! I will keep writing for writing’s sake. I will keep writing, just as I keep walking.

View north from the deck of Keene Lodge

Sympathy for Complainers (Sermon preached 8 August 2021)

 “Then the Jews began to complain about Jesus because he said “I am the bread that came down from heaven” (John 6:41). It’s amazing, isn’t it, how swiftly the joy of the miracle dissipates. How quickly the abundance is forgotten! All those people. All that gorgeous green grass. All that bread! All disappearing in the rear-view mirror as the crowd has chased Jesus across the sea of Galilee to the other side.

 They want more. And Jesus is wondering, is it true understanding they are after? Or do they just want to know how he did it? He’s been trying to explain what is going on, and what it all really means. And they still aren’t getting it...(read more)

Pennies and Barley Loaves (Sermon preached 25 July 2021)

Most of the time, the story we just heard from John 6 is referred to as “The Feeding of the Five Thousand”. But it is sometimes called "The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes”. Which, in itself, is an interpretive move. Because it shifts our focus from what happened, which is that all these people got fed, to what Jesus actually did to make that happen.

The presenting problem of the story is the problem of not enough – nowhere near enough. The problem is solved when something very small somehow becomes more than enough to meet the need. Remember, twelve baskets of leftovers!

 

Doesn’t it make you wonder what it must that have been like...(read more)

Coming Forward, Coming Clean (Sermon preached 27 June 2021)

Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to be called out of a crowd -- out of the relative safety of a group -- because you’ve been caught at something you would never dream of doing out in the open? And then, in front of all those people have to explain yourself? Honestly, I don’t know how that poor woman that Jesus meets on his way to heal Jairus’s daughter found the courage to be there in the first place.

In the Greek, Mark’s description of her situation is this series of participles piling one on top of another. The literal English translation goes something like "And a woman— having been bleeding for twelve years, and having suffered greatly from many physicians, and having spent all she had, and having benefited not one bit, but rather having gone from bad to worse, having heard about Jesus, having come in the crowd from behind…”

 

It’s like we can feel her, right? We feel her labored breathing... (read more)

A New Brain-Shape (Sermon preached 30 May 2021)

Good morning! It is great to be with you. It is so good, isn’t it? After having to be physically distant for so long, we are beginning to actually share spaces with one another.

 Don’t get me wrong – technology is awesome. In fact, it has saved us. Thanks to Facebook and YouTube and Zoom, and the heroic efforts of some staff here, we have been able to stay connected, irrespective of location and time zone. So much so that even the naysayers among us are now convinced that in some circumstances, being present virtually is truly the way to go!

 

But that energetic exchange that happens when we are physically in one another’s presence; that back and forth, and give and take, with people we know and people we don’t, quite yet – people who we are curious about; who we find ourselves drawn to; who capture our imaginations? That being with, in person, is what we have been deprived of, for the most part, for over a year...(read more)

Keep Praying (Sermon preached 16 May 2021)

You probably already know this, but just in case you don’t, here in this community at St. Matthew’s a whole lot of people are convinced that prayer matters. That it makes a difference. We pray for one another, a lot. Privately. In small groups. And here in church. So many prayer requests find their way to me. Via emails, texts, phone calls, people ask for prayer for themselves, for family members, for friends; people they care about, people they know are struggling.

Sometimes a prayer request comes in from one source, and then later that same day, another person calls to make sure that I am aware, so I can add a name to the Prayers of the People. We have an Intercessory Prayer Group. A small band of prayer warriors who, every day, pray a confidential list of specific needs that gets updated monthly. And, one day in the not-too-far- distant future, I hope, our wonderful prayer ministers will once again, during Communion, pray with, lay hands on and anoint  those feeling a need to pray. 

 

It means a lot, doesn’t it? To have other people pray for us. People who don’t even really believe in the power of prayer still feel blessed by it...(read more)