Courage to speak up

 

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

Margaret of Cortona, February 22, 2021

Zephaniah 3:7-13; Psalm 30: 6–13; Luke 7:36–50

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Today we remember Margaret of Cortona. There are many things about her life and faith that are notable - her courage, her fasting, her good works - but it was this line from Lesser Feasts and Fasts that stood out to me: “Twice, following divine command, she challenged the Bishop of Arezzo . . .because he lived and warred like a prince.” A woman in the thirteenth century was decidedly on the margins of society and the Church, and yet she did not hesitate to speak truth to power. She did not hold back. She stood up for what she believed in. She was empowered by God. She did not wait to be asked for her opinion. She spoke her truth with conviction - more than once!

And then in our Gospel for today, we get the story of the woman with the alabaster jar. This is a familiar story and there are a hundred different directions we can go with it. So much food for thought and reflection here. But reading it in light of Margaret’s life story, I am struck by the fact that the woman just goes up to Jesus and starts anointing him. Notice there is no preamble. No exchange. No, “Jesus, would it be okay if I . . .” No, permission given by Jesus, except implicitly by his acceptance of the gesture. Just like Margaret, the woman with the alabaster jar does not hesitate to act on her convictions. To take a risk for what she believed in. To offer care and generosity with no expectation of anything in return. She does not come seeking a transaction. She offers a precious gift - both in terms of monetary value and personal cost - because doing so is deeply meaningful to her. 

So these women have gotten me thinking about the importance of holding to our convictions, of speaking the truth without waiting to be asked. I think how different that is at least from my own life, perhaps much to do with how women and girls are socialized, especially in my own upper class WASP culture. I have been conditioned to wait, not to rock the boat or risk upset. I remember an elementary school teacher telling me how he and other teachers preferred to have a higher girl/boy ratio in the classroom, because girls were so much less disruptive. Or how in so many ways, we female caregivers are told that the mark of a good daughter, wife, mother, is to always put the needs of others before our own. 

But the women whose lives and stories we honor today did not hold back or hesitate. They did not simply follow the societal scripts laid out for them. They had stories to tell and truths to proclaim - about the depth of love and care, about how even the one who was willing to give his life for us all deserved to feel some measure of his impact, to receive the kind of communication that is only possible with the touch of a hand. They had truths to proclaim about the kind of world we are called to create as followers of Jesus and how those of us in positions of power and authority ought not to take that responsibility lightly - how we ought to live exemplary lives that point to the Truth of the Gospel.

Those women did not hesitate. And neither should we, no matter our gender. No doubt all of us have grown up with challenging and problematic scripts of various sorts that can hold us back, keep us from stepping out in faith or saying something important for fear of how it will be received. In the midst of this time, and all the challenges of these days, it can be particularly easy to say, oh I’ll wait until we get through this to say anything. I don’t want to add to anyone’s stress. Well, maybe . . .

And yet if this pandemic has taught us anything, it has been a profound reminder of the fragility and uncertainty of life. A reminder that is so powerfully reinforced in this Lenten season. “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.” Life is precious and short. We never know how long we will have.

May this season and the courageous, unhesitating witness of Margaret and the woman with the alabaster jar remind us of the importance of acting and speaking with conviction. Whether it is a truth that needs to be spoken to the powers that be or an expression of how much someone matters to us, may we feel empowered to speak up. There will be no perfect time. And yes, there are risks involved in speaking up, but God has certainly shown me, shown us, over and over again that the risks are well worth it. Far more often than not, speaking up opens the doors to new, more life giving possibilities. 

So in the days ahead, throughout this Lenten season and beyond, I hope we will have the strength and courage we need to proclaim the Truth, to make our voices heard, and to trust that the rewards of doing so far outweigh the risks. Amen. 

Holding the Hope for each other

From Jimmy Fund Walk in Boston

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom

February 16, 2021

Psalm 85:7-13; Jonah 4:1-11;Luke 10:1-12

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

I don’t know about you all, but I needed some Jonah this week. I love Jonah. I love Jonah because he is so human. I love Jonah because he gives us permission to be frustrated and angry. He gives us permission to get it wrong. To have our moments where our perspective and priorities can get mixed up. And ultimately, I love Jonah because his story reminds us of God’s abiding grace and faithfulness. It reminds us that the whole thing is bigger than we are, and oh right, it is not all about us. 

I especially love our passage for today, where Jonah gets all worked up about the bush. He tethers his emotions and his well-being to the state of the bush. When it is great, he is happy. When it withers, he is angry. That clicked for me this week. I realized I have found myself tethering my emotions to external forces. What are the graphs for CT and NY doing? How’s the vaccine supply? Who has predictions about when we might be able to do this, that, or the other thing in person? What is our government doing to combat injustice? Are the myriad of challenges we face as a nation and a world actually being addressed right now? It is a roller coaster. I am exhausted, and it is not helping my well-being. 

Just like Jonah, I needed a reminder that this whole thing is bigger than me. I needed the reminder that I am not actually in charge. If I tether my well-being to external outcomes, I am going to be stuck on a roller coaster. I don’t want to be stuck on a roller coaster. That sent me looking for a different way of being, and helped me remember the distinction Archbishop Desmond Tutu makes between hope and optimism. It is worth quoting him at length. The Archbishop says:

“Hope is quite different from optimism, which is more superficial and liable to become pessimism when the circumstances change. Hope is something much deeper . . . I say to people that I’m not an optimist, because that, in a sense that depends on feelings more than actual reality. We feel optimistic, or we feel pessimistic. Now hope is different in that it is based not on the ephemerality of feelings but on the firm ground of conviction. I believe with a steadfast faith that there can never be a situation that is utterly, totally hopeless. Hope is deeper and very, very close to unshakeable. It’s in the pit of your tummy. It’s not in your head . . . Resignation and cynicism are easier, more self-soothing postures that do not require the raw vulnerability and tragic risk of hope. To choose hope is to step firmly forward into the howling wind, baring one’s chest to the elements, knowing that, in time the storm will pass.” (Book of Joy, p. 121-2.)

I find that to be a powerful image and distinction. An important reminder to keep ourselves grounded in that which is deeper than circumstances or outcomes. I am also glad that the Archbishop does not end his description there, seeming to imply that to be a person of hope is to be standing alone against the storm.

He goes on to say that “Hope is the antidote to despair . . . Hope is also nurtured by relationship, by community, whether that community is a literal one or one fashioned from the long memory of human striving, whose membership includes Ghandi, King, Mandela, and countless others. Despair turns us inward. Hope sends us into the arms of others.” (Book of Joy, p. 123.)

So if you have had any roller coaster moments this week, or if you feel like Jonah in the coming days, remember the wisdom of the Archbishop, ground yourselves in hope. And on the days where you feel grounded, keep yourself firmly planted so that you may be the arms to receive others. 

There is a very, very long list of why I am grateful for this gathered community and the ways it has sustained me over the course of this year. Perhaps one of the most beautiful gifts you all have given, that we all give each other, is to nurture hope for each other. That is Church at its best, when we can hold the faith for each other, when we can provide sustenance in the midst of spiritual deserts, when we can support and uphold each other. When simply our gathered presence proclaims the beauty of God’s Word, the depth of God’s love and the conviction that the Truth does not change -love and life always triumph -  no matter what the state of the world is. Thank you for that gift, dear friends. Amen. 

A sprinkling of salt

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer

February 9, 2021

Psalm 8; 2 Tim. 1:1-14; Mark 9:42-50

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

As many of you know, I love to cook. And one of my favorite things to make is chocolate chip cookies. I alternate between traditional regular chocolate chip cookies and an “everything but the kitchen sink” version that is a chocolate cookie with nuts and three kinds of chips - dark chocolate, white chocolate and peanut butter. I love them both for very different reasons. I recently made a discovery that the dark chocolate cookies were made even better if I sprinkled them with salt as soon as they came out of the oven. 

That’s the thing about salt. Just a little bit of it opens up a whole new set of flavors. But the “little bit” is key. I am sure we have all had the experience of eating something that has been over salted. There is a fine line between flavor enhancement and inedibility. A little bit is amazing. Too much is ruinous. 

Today’s Gospel is all about what gets in the way of us deepening our relationship with God. What are our stumbling blocks? What keeps us from living more fully into who God calls us to be? 

But it is that last part about salt. About having salt. About being salt. About finding peace that really caught my attention. It gave me pause, because I will admit that first portion about stumbling blocks felt like an admonition. Stumbling blocks, God? You want to talk about stumbling blocks, okay. No problem. I have a long list for you. There is a global pandemic. We are all working from home. We are utterly exhausted, and while there is a light at the end of this tunnel it is still too far away. Not enough people are getting vaccines fast enough. We miss being together - in person! We are weighed down by the enormous challenges facing our nation and our world right now. Poverty, Racism, Sexism, Environmental Degradation, name your issue. See God, we have plenty of stumbling blocks! 

But then I pause. Then I think about what some of the wisest voices I know might say to me. . . Molly, take a deep breath. Think about that list for a moment. What is notable about it? Oh. You mean the part where I have conveniently named only external stumbling blocks and failed to take responsibility for what I might do differently. You mean that might be part of the problem? Oh and externalizing everything might also cut me off from the gift of being able to connect more deeply with God and those around me? Oh, yeah, that’s not very helpful. 

And I go back to the salt. I think about how just a little bit makes a difference. What if that were true here too? What if I don’t in fact have to fix all the world’s problems today. What if I don’t have to make a seismic shift in my spiritual practices? What if, at least for today, it is not about transforming everything? What if, at least for today, it was just about the small steps, the sprinkling of salt that might be life giving? That might move us one step closer to the depth we crave, to the coming of the kingdom?

In my current state of pandemic overwhelm, coupled with my task oriented, achievement driven personality, I needed that reminder that it does not (and probably cannot nor should not) all be done today. Small steps are okay. For today, for now, they are enough. As the Carrie Nicewander song we listened to last week says, every small kindness shifts the balance toward the light. 

I hope that resonates for you. I hope that you feel your burdens lightened. I hope that you feel more glimmers of hope and possibility. I hope that you feel inspired to seek out the small ways that you might deepen your connection to God. A few more deep breaths. A little more quiet. A little more time outside. Choosing relationship over task a little more often. Reaching out just to say “hi.” A little more time for prayer. A little more time to feed our souls. 

I trust that all those sprinkles of salt, all those small steps, all those moments will enrich us and nourish us so that we might have what we need to be a part of the transformation of the world, together. Amen. 

Candlemas

                                             

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

DFMS Noonday Prayer via Zoom 

Feast of the Presentation and Candlemas

Psalm 84; Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 2:22-40

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Today is the Feast of the Presentation also known as Candlemas. It is a centerpiece of this Epiphany season, where we celebrate the way the truth about who Jesus is revealed to the world. The infant Jesus is brought to the Temple and his status as the Messiah, the Holy One of God, the Son of God, is recognized by the prophets Simeon and Anna. It is a day that has often been marked by candlelight processions, hence the name Candlemas. It is a day that continues the beautiful and important theme of the Christmas and Epiphany seasons. The light is coming into the world. 

Indeed it is. There is light. There is hope. In declining numbers of virus cases. In more vaccines getting to those who need them. In the resiliency and adaptability of children. In their smiles and their laughter. In community. In shared gifts. There is light and hope in each other. Ah, there it is. The all important reminder that in this season we do not just celebrate the light coming into the world as something that we watch happen. We are not mere spectators. We are participants. We can ensure that the beautiful, holy light of which God is the source is made more and more visible in our world. 

This theme of light is such an important one in our faith in this time, particularly as we seek to repent of and transform the systemic realities of racism and injustice in our society and our Church. I recently read the book, Rebirthing God, by John Philip Newell. In it he tells a story from his own ministry that I have found particularly inspiring and thought provoking as I reflect on this theme of light.

He writes: “Many years ago I was delivering a talk in Ottawa, Ontario, on some of the main themes of the prologue to St. John’s Gospel, and especially the words “the Light that enlightens every person coming into the world” (John 1:9, adapted). In attendance that evening was a Canadian Mohawk elder. He had been invited to be there to make observations about the parallels between his First Nations spirituality and the spirituality of the Celtic world. At the end of my talk he stood with tears in his eyes and said, “As I have been listening to these themes, I have been wondering where I would be tonight. I have been wondering where my people would be tonight. And I have been wondering where we would be as a Western world tonight if the mission that had come to us from Europe centuries ago had come expecting to find light in us.” We cannot undo the tragic wrongs that have been done in the name of Christianity to the First Nations people of Canada and to the indigenous peoples of many nations throughout the world. We cannot undo the unspeakable acts of cruelty and arrogance, perhaps unparalleled in the history of world religion, annihilating and conquering in the name of the truly humble one, Jesus. We can, however, be part of a new beginning. We can allow the true essence of our Christian heritage to be born anew.”  [p. 67-8]

As a white person whose ancestors have been in this country since before the American Revolution, this quote brings me up short. It calls me to account. It reminds me of how much deep, important, challenging work there is to do. And this quote also fills me with hope. Because it reminds me that we do in fact have the power to change things. We are not condemned to repeat the sins of the past. 

There is hope on a global level. There is hope on an individual level. The Mohawk elder asks, “What if they had come expecting to find light in us?” Ah. It is not just about looking for the light. It is not just about waiting to see if we might find it. It is about expecting the light. I don’t know about you, but the emphasis on expecting invites me to reorient my perspective. It invites me to see the world differently. I am not just wondering if I will find light. I am expecting to find light. That means I am seeking out and looking for all that is good and holy even in the midst of the most challenging, frustrating or heart wrenching circumstances. That means I am seeking out and looking for the face of God in everyone I meet. That means I am expecting to find grace and joy each day. 

So on this feast day, as we celebrate God’s light coming into the world, I invite you to reorient yourself to the light. I invite you to seek it out in the midst of daily life. And I invite you to expect to find it everywhere. No doubt we will be surprised by what we find. Amen.