Reflecting on St. Augustine

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Feast of St. Augustine, August 29, 2019 

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Psalm 87; Hebrews 12:22-29 ; John 14:6-15

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 St. Augustine. I have a complicated relationship with Augustine. Hopefully I am not the only one. I have deep respect for him and find much of his writing to be insightful and thought provoking. I also have some challenges with some of his doctrines. First the good stuff.

Even if you don’t know much about the details of the life of St. Augustine, you probably know much his thought. He is a foundational figure in Western Christianity. We owe him a debt for articulating well so many of the important beliefs and doctrines of our faith tradition. It is from Augustine that we get our understanding that a sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. He so simply and beautifully articulates the truth of our experience, of our belief that when we gather around this table to share bread and wine there is more going on than baked wheat and fermented grape juice. There is something real, powerful, and meaningful happening here. God is present in a miraculous and tangible way. Along with that Augustine also articulates for us the belief that it is God in the Holy Spirit here that make the bread and the wine into the real presence of Christ. It is not about me as the priest. I am merely the conduit for God’s grace. 

This was particularly important in Augustine’s time, because there was a controversy with the Donatists about whether it was the holiness of people that made the Church holy or whether the Church was holy because it belonged to God. Thankfully, Augustine’s view one out. Neither the holiness of the Church nor the validity of the sacraments depends on us. What a relief. It is not up to us alone. God shows up here in our worship no matter what kind of day we are having. If we are on top of our game and getting everything right, God is here. If we have failed five times before breakfast and really wishing we could just start over, God is here. It is not up to us or how well we are doing at living up to our goals as a follower of Jesus today. 

Augustine’s willingness to own the frailty of being human is one of the things I so appreciate about him. He is aware of how small we humans are in the grand scheme of things and how big God is. There is comfort in that. As Augustine writes at the beginning of his autobiography, Confessions: our hearts are restless until them come to rest in God. We cannot do it all on our own. We will be restless until we put our trust and faith in God. We will be restless until we rest in God. As it says in one of the prayers in the Compline service in the BCP, which asks that “we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this world may rest in your eternal changelessness.” [p. 133]

In his book, Confessions, Augustine tells a story of his teenage years in which he and a group of friends snuck into an orchard and stole a bunch of pears. They stole more than they could possibly eat, not because they were good pears, but simply for the joy of thieving. While most of us probably do not relate to the joy of actually stealing something, we can certainly relate to the way in which we can give into the temptation to do something we know we should not, just because it feels good. Just one more way Augustine owns up to the frailty and challenges of being human. 

My difficulties with Augustine come in the fact that at times he took the frailty of humanity too far. Augustine is known for a strong doctrine of original sin, the belief that we are born sinful. And it is a doctrine which the Church embraced for centuries until the Reformation. This doctrine taken to its extreme ends up promoting a negative view of our bodies, particularly female bodies, and of human intimacy. 

Since Augustine had such a willingness to own up to the reality of human frailty, I am hoping we can chalk that problematic theology about sex and our bodies to his humanity without tossing out all the good stuff in his theology. 

Ultimately, I hope Augustine’s emphasis on the enormity of God, of God’s goodness, God’s grace and the fact that God’s presence and God’s love are with us no matter how virtuous or successful a day we are having. I hope that is the message that you carry with you from our celebration of Augustine today. God’s grace is present in our lives, and we don’t have to do anything to earn it. Thanks be to God. AMEN. 

Saint Dominic, Joy, and Grace

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center 

Feast of St. Dominic, August 8, 2019

Psalm 96:1-7; Romans 10:13-17; John 7:16-18

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.

One of my dearest friends, Minlib, who is really more than a friend (he is like another brother), is a Dominican Friar. We first met as PhD students many years ago, and he fast became a member of my family. So when I saw that I would be preaching on the feast day of his order’s founder, I wrote him a note asking if he had any particular insights for me. 

He told me that Dominic was as a joyful friar and a preacher of grace. That made me smile and warmed my heart. It probably helps that all these centuries later joy and grace are still embodied in the Dominican order. My dear Minlib certainly does. And there seems to be something of the Holy Spirit in having Dominic’s feast this week. Joy and grace. We are certainly in need of those at the present moment. Now it could certainly be said that joy and grace are always a good idea. AND I think we need them especially right now. We need them. Our world needs them. Joy and grace seem to be utterly missing from our news headlines and from our collective, societal discourse.

We need a little more Dominic in our lives. We need his spirit in the public square. Now, it could be easy to protest this since we cannot all be Dominic. We are not likely to give up all we have, commit ourselves to poverty and celibacy and found an order of friars. So while we may not all become preachers and friars, we certainly can embody his characteristics of joy and share his message of grace.

As I shared yesterday, I struggle with the judgment passages in our Scriptures, and so I am always grateful for a reminder that God’s grace abounds. One way to live out the reality of grace is to be more gentle with ourselves. No doubt we could all benefit from sharing God’s grace inside our own hearts. But if we are to follow in Dominic’s footsteps and to “preach” grace with our lives, then we also need to share that grace with others. We need to view others and the world through the lens of grace. This doesn’t have to mean letting go of high standards or accountability. It just means that when we find ourselves jumping to judgment or making assumptions about someone else’s motivations, we pause and reflect. We ask ourselves how it is that we might find more grace in this particular moment.

I have no doubt that joy and grace are inextricably linked. When we have more grace for ourselves and for each other, then there will also be more joy in our hearts. I also firmly believe, in fact it is part of what keeps me going, keeps me hopeful, even when the news headlines make me feel like crumpling into a puddle of tears and giving up. I believe that as each of us strives to live our lives with a little more grace, to bring a little more joy into the world, I believe it matters. I believe our actions matter. I believe how we live our lives matters. I believe that together, little by little, we can make the world a more graceful and joyful place. AMEN.

Reflections on Judgment

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center 

August 7, 2018: John Mason Neale

Psalm 106:1-5; 2 Chronicles 20:20-21; Matthew 13:44-52

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

“So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Lines like these make me nervous. On multiple fronts, first there is the global front. Particularly in the wake of the horrific events of the weekend, it is tempting to latch on to judgment texts like these as a vehicle for our pain and anger. We can use them to condemn the perpetrators. . . But if we do that we are joining in the cycle of hate and violence that is a part of why mass shootings seem to be such a regular occurrence.

Then there is the personal front, if I weren’t standing up here reading those lines, I’d be squirming in my seat. I consider myself a recovering perfectionist. I take my mistakes, my errors, my sins very seriously - a bit too seriously most of the time, and so passages like this make me nervous. And I don’t find them helpful because they feed my perfectionist tendencies . . . after reading a passage like this my perfectionist self can say “See! It does matter how you behave! Watch out, you better bear good fruit or else!” NOT HELPFUL! I am quite capable of giving myself a good guilt trip without adding on the fear of the eternal flames of hell.

I have often struggled with the theme of judgment and punishment that are present in our Scriptures. It is tempting to put our Gospel aside and focus on the mercy and steadfast love that are more prominent in our other readings today or to just focus on the life story of John Mason Neale whose life we remember today, and his example of good works in founding the order of St. Margaret. But the questions of judgment and punishment are right there in the Gospel, and I believe in facing my fears, so I can’t just let them slide by. 

Shortly after 9/11 I read a book of essays by Eugene Kennedy* that helped me think about these passages of judgment differently. As you likely remember there was lots of talk of judgment in the days and weeks following 9-11 - who was to blame? Who was now burning in hell for their sins? Not all that different than some of the rhetoric we are hearing today as well. But Kennedy says that we have got it all wrong if we think it is all a dichotomy, that there are simply good people and evil people, or as it says in some of our other texts on judgment, the wheat and the chaff or the fruitful and unfruitful trees. 

Kennedy writes of those who died on 9-11 (and I think this could apply equally to all those who have been victims of mass shootings in recent years): “Their voices, taken from phone calls and emails and the recollections of friends, blend now into one message, one voice like a canyon echo coming back to us out of the ruins: ‘I love you,’ said in a thousand ways is the true harvest of these good people’s lives. The good grain so overflowed that it covered over the patches of human stubble in their lives . . . They defined themselves and what life and faith are all about in the commitment to the relationships in their lives.”  When we look at all those people from all sorts of walks a life - a real cross section of humanity - who perished on 9/11 or in all the mass shootings, we should see the good - the overwhelming good in them, for as Kennedy goes on to say, that is what ultimately matters to God.  Kennedy writes, “What is good and bad in us grows together. On judgment day, God harvests only what is good in us, for that is what is eternal, and ignores the weeds that belong to time.” 

Reading these words lifts a weight from my shoulders. They comfort me because they reminded me that God can see the big picture - and God pays much more attention to the times we get it right - the times we lived a life of love - than to the times we messed up. They also give me a much more hopeful picture of Judgment Day. I have always struggled with the idea that God sends people to hell as a punishment. The image Kennedy offers fits more with the understanding of judgment that I have developed over the years, with thanks to theologians like Julian of Norwich, C.S. Lewis, and Rowan Williams. While there may be a moment of reckoning, a moment of cleansing when we come face to face to with God at the end of our lives, we need not fear it. God is not some arbitrary judge. God is the God we know and love. God is loving and merciful - ALWAYS. Hell is not eternal damnation for our sins; hell is a choice we make. God is always reaching out to us, always offering mercy and forgiveness. Always willing to pay more attention to the good that is in us. And God has given us free will, so we have the option to accept that mercy or to reject it. If we choose to turn our back on God, then we will know hell, for hell is the only place where God is not. 

So, today as we are invited to reflect on our lives, it can be tempting to start tallying up all the times we have done something harmful or foolish. But, perhaps, that is not how it is meant to be. What if, like John Mason Neale, we focus on how we can do good to help others? What if we try to see ourselves as God sees us: as beloved children who are capable of generous acts of love. What would it look like to have those be the defining acts of our lives?

AMEN.

*Eugene Kennedy. 9-11:Meditations at the Center of the World. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2002), 32-3. 

Homily on St. James

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
July 25, Feast of St. James
Jeremiah 45:1-5; Acts 11:27-12:3; Matthew 20:20-28; Psalm 7:1-10



May God’s Word be Spoken. May God’s Word be heard and may that point us to the Living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
I come from a large extended family, and I have a number of cousins who were born when I was old enough to be involved in their care. And I have a niece who is a few years older than our children. This taught me about how to change diapers and some of the basics, but it by no means prepared me for the reality of becoming a mother myself. I would guess that those of you who are parents would concur that no amount of reading or babysitting can fully prepare you for the reality of parenthood. It is something that just has to be lived into!


It is interesting to me that we cannot fully prepare for some of the biggest most important commitments of our lives - marriage, having children or even becoming a Christian. Interestingly, more and more people are getting married (and having children) when they are older . . . we like to plan, we like to prepare, we like to be sure we have done all the research to ensure that we do everything right and avoid all the potential pitfalls. But we can’t plan for everything. We can’t know everything in advance. And that is okay.


That is what St. James has to remind us of on this day. Sometimes in life, we just have to jump in with both feet . . . that is what James does in today’s Gospel reading. (Although we do have point out that he might have been a little reticent, since he had his mother ask Jesus for him!) Nonetheless, James asks to go where Jesus goes, to sit at his right hand and to drink the cup he drinks. This is quite a commitment. James cannot possibly fully understand what he is getting into. He cannot possibly realize that Jesus will be crucified by the Romans, and that he himself will also be killed - by Herod who fears the followers of Jesus. James cannot possibly know what it means to commit himself to Jesus, to be a follower of him. And yet he jumps in with both feet. He and his brother swear that they are ready and able to follow Jesus - wherever the path may lead.


Why does James do this? Why does his mother want him to? While they cannot know the full story, I am sure they realize that following Jesus is a risky choice, even a dangerous one. And yet they do. Because they see something in Jesus. Because they know in their gut that Jesus has something to offer them that no one else does. They realize that Jesus is not just another prophet or another wise teacher - they realize that he is the Son of God, and they realize how their lives will be transformed by choosing to follow Jesus.


That same invitation is open to us today. Jesus invites us to jump in with both feet. Blessedly we can rest assured that following Jesus is not as dangerous (at least here in America) as it once was, and so we are free to take the plunge without fearing for our lives. Even if the risk isn’t as great. But Jesus asks of us the same enthusiasm and commitment that James and his family showed. Jesus wants us to jump in with both feet! To follow joyfully even if we don’t know exactly where we are headed. It is okay. Jesus is walking with us every step of the way. Just like getting married and having children, the future is uncertain, but we can be confident in our companions. So, as we remember the courage and enthusiasm of St. James today, I invite us to follow his example and to live our faith with a greater excitement and a deeper commitment as we follow our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.





AMEN.

Reflecting on Gentleness and Hospitality (Feast of Thomas a Kempis)

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Thomas a Kempis, July 24, 2019

Psalm 34:1–8; Philippians 4:4–9; Luke 6:17-23

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

Picture a school lunchroom.  You are the new kid. You have just filled your tray, and you are looking for somewhere to sit.  You see a table with an empty seat and start walking toward it but, as you do, one of the kids moves their backpack into the empty seat.  You start towards another table. Those kids are talking animatedly among themselves and one of them gives you a dirty look when you walk toward them.  Just as you are beginning to think that maybe you'll just go eat in the hall, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around and see a group of friendly faces, smiling at you.  “Come sit with us.” “We'd be glad to have you.” They say. All of a sudden, all the tension that was building inside you disappears and you relax.  

Clearly that group of people had been reading our passage from Philippians.  Feelings of stress and the fear of not belonging or not being welcomed are universal.  And the human experience also knows the great joy that comes when we find a community that welcomes us in – just as we are.  

St. Paul was quite clear that hospitality and fellowship were to be some of  the hallmarks of Christian communities. The churches which St. Paul established were to be communities that were not only welcoming but also communities that reached out in love and care to one another, especially in times of crisis.  As Paul wrote in our passage from Philippians “Let your gentleness be known to everyone…whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.” 

Paul was writing to encourage the Church at Philippi in the midst of a difficult time, and he did so by pointing them towards a universal truth of the human experience.  People know what it is like to be welcomed.  People know what it is like to have someone treat them gently.  People know that joy is contagious ~ and that by sharing happiness we are sharing a gift that keeps on giving.

Focusing on that which is good and joyous – focusing on our own gentleness as we seek the good in others – all of these are a part of how we build up the kingdom of God.

We can do so in the small interactions of every day life. Holding the door for someone. Sharing some of what you have. Directing a visitor to the restroom or helping a tourist find their way.  Saying hello. Introducing ourselves when we meet someone new. Smiling and making eye contact when we interact with people, particularly someone checking us out at a store or the waitstaff in a restaurant.  Taking time to ask someone how they are doing and really waiting and listening to their answer. These all seem like small or even insignificant gestures but they are not insignificant by any stretch of the imagination.  In reaching out, in letting our gentleness be known, we are building up God's kingdom. That is the lofty (heavenly) truth. The earthly truth is that we are making a difference in someone's day and in someone's life. We are showing them that we see them, and we recognize them as a beloved child of God.  

     Hospitality is a part of who we are as Christians.  Making our gentleness known at all times and in all places is a part of what we do as Christians.  And it gives us another opportunity to thank God for all the communities of which we are a part that practice fellowship and hospitality - this community gathered here in this building, our families, our friends, our own home churches and communities. Reflecting on the blessing of hospitality and fellowship gives us an opportunity to take joy in our abundance, the intangible abundance of community.  Of communities that would make St. Paul proud. Communities filled with the sounds of cheerful conversations, the greetings of friends, the joy of children in our midst. The blessing of working together for a common cause. The sounds of communities caring for each other and praying together.

Given all news of late, it is tempting to be a little less aware of our abundance, less focused on the ways in which gentleness is manifest in the world. If that is so, it is good that we are here today.  Because it is here, in the midst of an anxious world, we gather to be fed by God’s Word and Sacrament, and we see the face of Christ in each other, and we are reminded of just how many blessings we have in our lives.   

I hope that today and everyday we are filled with gratitude for the abundance of our communities and the abundance we find throughout our own lives.  Filled with gratitude for all the people who contribute to our abundance and also the blessing of knowing that we can contribute to the abundance of others as well  May the peace of Christ dwell with us richly – and may we go forth this day making our gentleness known to everyone we meet. 

AMEN.

Parable of the Good Samaritan

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. James’s, West Hartford, CT

Proper 10C, July 14, 2019

Deuteronomy 30:9-14; Psalm 25:1-9; Luke 10:25-37

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.

In 1973 some researchers at Princeton Seminary conducted a study about helping behavior and the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The parable we have just heard. They wanted to test the hypothesis of whether or not being religious and studying the parable would mean that the students would be more likely to engage in the helping behavior modeled by the Good Samaritan. The results are surprising, and, I think, provide some valuable insights for us today. 

This is how the study went. Students were told they had to give a presentation, either on their own faith journey or on the Parable of the Good Samaritan. These were seasoned seminarian students, so either of those presentations should have been easy. Then they were either told that they had plenty of time or that they were late. On their way to the presentation they passed someone in distress. You might think the study offered results that can allow us to pat ourselves on the back. That confirm the fact that those of us who are good, faithful Christians are better at helping people, especially if we are engaging with our Scripture on a regular basis. Surprisingly, the biggest factor in whether or not someone stopped to help someone in need was not their faith or whether or not they had just spent time studying the Parable of the Good Samaritan, it was home much of a hurry they were in. Yikes. 

That study is now over forty years old, and yet I think it is just as relevant for us and our own faith journeys as it was when the results were published. I find the perspective and insight it offers to be refreshing and valuable. This Parable of the Good Samaritan is so familiar to us that it can keep us from really absorbing its impact or its invitation. We can think, “Ah yes, the Parable of the Good Samaritan. I know that one. I mean the term “Good Samaritan” is part of our everyday lexicon. It is part of our civil law. We all know we are supposed to stop and help people in need.” 

This is where I like to remember the wisdom of one of my seminary professors, which is that we should never make the mistake of confusing familiarity with understanding. So, what kind of new understanding might we be being invited into this morning as we reflect on this very familiar passage?

I think this is where the study is helpful in providing us with new ways to reflect on a familiar passage and to expand its relevance and meaning. We know to get someone in distress the help they need. Blessedly we live in a town and a state with excellent emergency services, and support services for residents whether they need food, housing, social services or mental health services. We have lots of resources to which we can connect needy people. We are not likely to have to make do with the services of a local innkeeper as the Samaritan did. 

So if we don’t have the same challenges as the Samaritan did, what is the invitation for us in this text? I think the invitation is to ask ourselves what else might we be hurrying past? If we think of this text on a more metaphorical and less literal level, how might it help us in our own daily lives? How might it help us to be more faithful followers of Jesus? How might it help us live more joyful and fulfilling lives?

Many of you are likely familiar with the set of spiritual practices offered by our Presiding Bishop at our General Convention last summer, The Way of Love. The Way of Love offers seven key practices: Turn, Learn, Pray, Worship, Bless, Go, Rest. And it is that last one that is so key. Rest. I think most of us don’t get enough of that. We can all too easily jump from Go to Turn. Just like the Priest and the Levite, just like those students in the Princeton study, we can be so focused on what is next, in such a rush to DO the next thing, that we can miss something important that is right in front of us. 

It might not be a person in literal distress, but I know that if I am not careful, I can miss important moments because I am too busy, too task oriented, too distracted by future planning to be present to the moment. I can miss wishing a friend Happy Birthday. I can miss a conversation with my children or that moment when they just want me to watch them do something silly. I can miss having a conversation with my husband about something other than who is doing which part of the carpool schedule tomorrow. I can miss watching the sunset or hearing the birds sing. I can miss out on my own prayer time with God. This list goes on, and I am sure you have your own list too. 

So, I hope that in the coming week, we can carry with us an invitation from our Scripture lesson and from The Way of Love, it is an invitation to be in just a little less of a hurry. A lesson to remember that God is with us, always. If we find our hearts quickening or our anxiety rising, if we find our To Do List dominating our thoughts, we have an invitation to pause, to reflect, to breathe. To ask ourselves, what might God be inviting us to pay attention to in this moment? To check in and make sure we are not missing something in our hurry to get to the next thing. 

It is all too easy to become so future oriented that we forget to live in the present moment. Hopefully summer is a time when the pace is a little less frantic, and so it is good time for us to pause and reset our priorities, to be sure that our tasks and the pace of our lives rarely come at the cost of our relationships. 

AMEN.

Homily on Benedict of Nursia

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

July 11, 2019, Feast of St. Benedict

Psalm 1; Proverbs 2:1-9; Luke 14:27-33 

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight O Lord. Our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen. 

Today we celebrate St. Benedict, famous for founding monasteries and authoring a Rule of Life for them that bears his name and has been deeply influential on the spiritual lives of many, inside and outside the monastery. Benedict is perhaps best known for the way he structured the day for his monks: “ An average day includes about four hours to be spent in liturgical prayer (the Divine Office), five hours in spiritual reading and study, six hours of labor, one hour for eating, and about eight hours for sleep.” Sounds like a pretty nice day actually. But where is the commuting? The wrangling of children? The laundry? Paying bills? All the mundane and necessary tasks of daily life. Also, I am not sure we could actually accomplish the jobs we have been hired to do if we only worked six hours. Also I think I would like to have longer than 20 minutes to eat at least some of my meals. But imagine being able to spend four hours a day in prayer. Wouldn’t we be spiritually centered and grounded. Presumably everything would be better if we could spend that much time in prayer. Imagine being able to read the whole of the Book of Psalms every week, as Benedict and his monks did. 

Well, I doubt many of us are going to completely follow Benedict’s Rule. Nor the literal admonition in our Gospel reading for today to give up all our possessions. If you are ready to do so, more power to you. I applaud you. I think that level of sacrifice and the daily regimen really only works in a monastery. Yet there are valuable insights for those of us who are striving to live more faithful lives in the midst of the busy-ness of the world and work and family life. The gift for us is in the attitude and approach that Benedict offered. Even if we do not literally give up everything we have and move to a monastery, we can honor the spirit of Benedict’s life and the ways  in which he calls us to be more faithful followers of Jesus.  

In some ways separating out the day as he did into separate blocks of prayer time, work time, study time, etc. is a bit of a misnomer. The separations could lead us to think that prayer has to somehow be separate from the rest of our lives. Actually in Benedict there is an invitation to intricately weave and connect prayer to everything we do. Indeed our work can be prayer, our mundane tasks can be prayer, our meals can be prayer, everything we do in a day can be done prayerfully. 

Even if you know me only a little bit, you might be able to guess that I am not particularly good at Centering Prayer or any kind of prayer practices that requires long periods of sitting in silence. It doesn’t fit well with my personality nor with family life with small children. I used to bemoan my failings on this front, because I had somehow gotten it in my head that quiet, meditative prayer was somehow THE superior form of prayer. But what Benedict’s life and work teach us that prayer does not only need to happen in moments of silence and contemplation, it can happen as we fold the laundry, do the dishes, sit at our desks, commute home, exercise, etc. Prayer is really about deepening our relationship with God and paying attention to how God is at work in our lives and in the world. The question is not about what we are DOING at any given moment, the question is about our own hearts and minds. What is our attitude? What is our disposition? Are we moving through our day with an openness to what God is up to in our lives and in the world?

A number of years ago, I read a book that I found to be very helpful in incorporating spiritual practices in daily life. It is called Sabbath in the Suburbs. It is written by Mary Ann McKibben Dana, a Presbyterian Pastor who lives in suburban DC. She and her engineer husband have three kids in elementary and middle school. They undertake the goal of practicing a sabbath every week for a year. They choose Saturdays because that is the only common day off. The book chronicles their efforts. There is a moment from the chapter on Advent that has stayed with me. Mary Ann looks at her combined to do list of church and family tasks and realizes that a full on sabbath where you stay home and really rest is just not possible that day. So, she decides she is going to go through her task list “sabbathly.” Mary Ann reminds us that it is our attitude, our disposition that matters. Real life happens. We are not always able to live up to the lofty goals we set for our own spiritual journeys. But the realities of life do not mean we have to beat ourselves up for failure. We can simply adjust our mindset and seek to carry the spirit of sabbath with us. If our mindset is in the right place, even our tasks can be prayer.

So, I hope that today is an opportunity to refresh our spiritual lives and to be reminded that just like Benedict and Mary Ann, we can integrate prayer into our daily lives. In fact our whole lives can be prayer. AMEN.