My Laundry Room is my Sacristy

It occurred to me this morning, as I was preparing for a road trip to CLU for graduation ceremonies this week and removing my vestments from the hanging bar in the back seat of my Prius, that I haven't had a sacristy of my own for a while.  A sacristy is a small room, normally behind the altar of a sanctuary, where worship leaders gather before the service to put on their robes, adjust their "Madonna" type microphones, grab a glass or bottle of water, and pray with other worship leaders that God would use their gifts so the service would be offered to God's glory, or some similar prayer.  

For the nearly six years that I have served as a bishop, I have spent a fair amount of time each week "living out of my car," owing to the distances I need to drive to visit the nearly 200 congregations I serve.  I have a "go bag" that is packed and ready at all times, since my travels are almost always a weekly commitment.   So if my robes are not draped across the back seat of my car, they are likely to be hanging in our laundry room -- which has become my "sacristy."  It is where my robes reside in between the Sundays and other days when I am on the road to connect with the people and congregations of the Sierra Pacific Synod.  Only once in six years have I forgotten to grab my robes before I left the house (ergo the Post-it note on the door out of my "sacristy."  Twice, I have driven off and left my robes at a church, which is why I now walk them out to my car before I go to whatever fellowship time or "Q&A with the bishop" might follow worship.  

 

I confess to getting a little envious of the colleagues I get to visit when I come to preach or lead worship in the congregation they serve.  As I get out of my car, I grab my robe, drape it over my left arm, hold my recently purchased half-caf, nonfat latte from St. Arbuck's in my right hand, and make my way to their sacristy, where I gather with those whose robes have been hanging in a closet since they were worn the week before.  We gather with lay leaders, acolytes, music leaders, and other staff persons -- all who have been involved with the planning of the worship service and who are now gathered to talk about moving this liturgy from hope to reality.   This little community of worship leaders who are a reflection of the larger community that is about to gather -- they welcome me into their midst.  And that's when I find myself coveting those relationships.

My covetousness disappears, however, as I am warmly welcomed into a circle of prayer and hopefulness that invites God's Spirit to guide and lead everything we are about to offer -- welcome, praise, prayers, music, the Word, a Table well set, hospitality, grace, hope, peace, challenge, presence.   My robes, usually hung by that time on the back of a door or perhaps mingling with other robes in the closet, are ready to be put on as we finish our preparations for worship.  Some weeks, owing to the itinerant nature of this call, this is one of the most meaningful times of community my robe and I will experience.  Because my co-workers in the office of the bishop and I are committed to being in a congregation of our synod three Sundays each month, I expect this story could be their story as well.  

So thank you for welcoming us into your congregations, and especially into your sacristies. Thank you for the faithful and prayerful preparations you have made to plan the worship services of which we get to be a part.  Thank you for the invitations to worship with you -- please keep them coming!   Our robes are hanging and at the ready in our "sacristies."

Pax,

Bp. Mark

Who(se) Easter is it, Anyway?

Many years ago, I was shopping in a drugstore for an Easter Card to send to my Mom.  I was hoping to find just the right card for her, and at that point of the week, there was still quite a selection.  They had Easter cards in several categories – with little markers to identify them:

Easter -- Humorous

Easter -- Child

Easter – Grandparent

Easter – Friend

And then I saw it.  I had to read it twice to make sure of what I was seeing.  Yep, there it was, one of those little markers, big as life, with the words, “Easter – Religious” written on it……  

And that’s when it hit me – have the people at Hallmark and Wal-Mart begun to take over Easter in much the same way they've tried to co-opt Christmas?  Is it their hope that Easter will become just as big a financial boon for corporate America as Christmas now is?  Will the church have to work every bit as hard to “protect” the message of Christ’s Resurrection at Easter as we do Christ’s birth at Christmas?   

Thankfully, the church has had an “ally” in its fight to get the true meaning of Christmas out -- Dr. Suess.  Dr. Suess’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” has been a great way for many to hear that the true meaning of Christmas isn’t to be found in all the crass commercialism that is so abundant at that time of the year.  

And that’s when I decided maybe we needed a “Dr. Suess story” for Easter, but since Theodore Geisel had died the year before, I decided to take on the job myself.  So, more than  a few years ago, and with apologies to Dr. Suess, I offered the following sermon -- the story of:

"How the Grinch Nearly Stole Easter"

Every Who down in Who-ville liked Easter a lot!

But the Grinch, who lived just north of Who-ville, DID NOT!!!

The Grinch hated Easter!  The whole Easter season.

Now, please don't ask why.  No one quite knows the reason.

For Easter, you see, requires some believing.

And that's hard if your life has been filled with great grieving.

And that was the case for Mr. Grinch, it was said.

His life had been filled with fear and with dread.

Fear and dread that when his miserable life would be over

he'd be buried in a box, just buried under some clover.

And what would come later -- what would come after?

The Grinch was convinced there would be no joy or laughter.

But the Whos down in Who-ville, had faith and belief,

and this fact alone caused the Grinch even MORE grief.

The Whos believed that the dead would arise --

Some they said had seen it with their own eyes!

That Christ, who had been hung on a tree

was made alive again, for all to see.

"Nonsense," said the Grinch, with a smirk that was evil,

"Who could believe such an impossible fable?"

And to make matters worse, if worse they could be:

The Whos offered their faith for others to see.

Those Whos, he knew, would be gathering soon

well before evening, well before noon.

They'd gather in fact, at the crack of dawn,

before most people even have time to yawn.

They'd gather to sing, their songs of Easter Joy.

Songs the Grinch knew would surely annoy.

"Christ is Risen!  Risen Indeed!"  He would mutter.

To believe that, your mind would have to be full of -- peanut butter!

The more the Grinch thought of their bright morning singing

the more he was sure it would be his undoing.

"I'll stop it this year, by hook or by crook!"

"I'll stop it," he said, with a frightening look.

"I'll not have their singing ringing again in my ears --

After all, it's been nearly two thousand years!"

"I'll show those Whos what Easter's really about."

"I'll show them that Easter isn't celebrated with a shout!"

"Christ is Risen! Risen Indeed! "

"I'll give them a belief they really will need!"

"I'll get them to believe in bunnies and bonnets

and candy and colored eggs and cards that have sonnets."

"And soon they'll forget this Christ who has risen.

Soon they'll forget the hope of this season."

"I'll load up my wagon with all kinds of treats

And bring them to Who-ville to give out in the streets."

"I'll do it before their songs of praise ring out

to their God they have said they never will doubt."

"They'll doubt, they'll forget, once they see my surprises

once they see that Easter is about getting prizes."

And so, off he went, to do his level best

to wake those Whos from their their Easter Eve rest.

"Free candy!" he shouted, as he entered their town.

"Free candy to any and all who come down!"

"Free candy to those who choose not to sing!

"But free candy for you is not all that I bring!"

"I've got baskets and bonnets and eggs colored red.

Come on, you Whos -- get out of your bed!"

"Get out of your bed -- but not to stand in the cold

And sing songs of praise like those Whos of old."

"Get our of your bed and receive your fill of candy

And I'll show you that Easter is really quite dandy."

"It's not about God's love and faith and peace,

it's not about forgiveness and pardon and release."

"It's not about joy and hope beyond reason,

it's not about life beyond death and resurrection"

"It's all about candy and bunnies and bonnets,

It's about colored eggs and cards that have sonnets."

"No it's not!" said one Who, who came down from her bed.

"No it's not!" she said, with sleep still in her head.

"Easter's not about candy," said Cindy Lou Who.

"It's all about God's love, for me and for you.

A love that was willing to risk even death

So that we will be comforted at our last breath.

For God loves us so, that he gave his own Son

That a victory over death would finally be won."

"That's what Easter's about, you silly old Grinch,

I'm surprised you didn't know that, it's really a cinch.”

“And because I'm so sure,” said Cindy Lou Who,

“I'm willing to risk telling all of this to you.

You, who laugh and scoff and wish to make fun

of those who trust and believe in God's Son.

Because this story, this hope, this great, grand, good news

is meant to be shared -- it isn't just for the Whos."

"That's why we sing our songs of great joy

We don't mean to offend, or dismay, or annoy.

It's just that our hearts are so filled with relief

that God, who knows our fears, has given us belief.

A belief that death isn't the final defeat --

a trust that in death it is Christ we will meet.

He'll meet us not only at the hour of our death

but each day, each living day, that we draw a breath.

Christ meets us in those who reach out with love

to remind us of the home that's prepared for us above."

"To give us the confidence to risk loving others

To live with Christ as sisters and brothers.

To give of our time and talents and treasure

because God has given to us without measure.

Mr. Grinch, you can keep all the candy you've brought along

We Whos will still choose to gather in song.

To sing "Jesus Christ is risen today"

and thank God all our fears have been allayed.

In fact, please join us -- it would give us great joy

if you think my inviting you doesn't annoy."

And what happened then....?  Well, in Who-ville they say

That the Grinch's small heart grew three times that day.

The story is told how his heart swelled that morn

when old Mr. Grinch was for a second time born.

And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,

he wondered as he looked at the early dawn's light.

He could see in his mind the stone rolled away

as surely as he saw the light of that new day.

And suddenly he knew the true meaning of Easter.

Christ's dying and rising was at the heart of the matter.

It wasn't about candy and bunnies and bonnets;

Not colored eggs and cards that have sonnets.

The Grinch knew himself the joy of this season

and with all of the Whos, shouted out: "CHRIST IS RISEN!!!"  

The End.  

Not really -- we get to take the story of Easter from here.

Pax,

Bp. Mark

Ashes to go...

I was a little surprised on Wednesday of this past week (and definitely pleased) to see news reports of a number of places around northern California where “Ashes To Go” or “Ashes on the Run” were being offered at transit hubs and on sidewalks outside of churches or even at busy intersections.  Included in one of these stories were the pastors at St. John’s Lutheran in Sacramento, one of the churches I serve as bishop.  Check out this link to a YouTube Video that tells the story better than I could: Ashes to Go -- St. John's, Sacramento

Why was I pleased?  It probably has a lot to do the journey I’ve had with Ashes in my life and ministry.  32 years ago, I imposed Ashes for the first time.  I was an intern pastor serving at Our Redeemer’s Lutheran Church in Maplewood, Minnesota.  We were planning for Lenten worship services (sometime before Christmas, as I remember), and when I asked where the ashes were stored for imposing ashes on Ash Wednesday.  I got a blank stare from the Music Director and my Supervisor.  “Um, ashes?” they asked.  “Yes, Ashes,” I said, “as in ASH (get it folks?) Wednesday.”

To their credit, neither put the kibosh on the idea.  In fact, I was encouraged to put together a liturgy for the service, but was told by my supervisor that he would not be imposing ashes.  I remembered from my Liturgics class that we were supposed to burn the palms from the prior Palm Sunday to make ashes, but that was not an option.  This particular congregation used Pussy Willows instead of Palms on Palm Sunday (which may be the subject of a future blog about my time at “Our Lady of Liturgical Sorrows”). 

“What to do?” I thought.  There weren’t too many Palm Trees in Minnesota.  So I called up my friend, one of the priests who worked down the street at Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary Catholic Church.  We had collaborated on regular fellowship and pre-baptism classes for Lutherans and Catholics who broke all the “rules” and followed their hearts by getting married, usually to the consternation of parents and grandparents.  Fr. Michael Joncas (yep, THAT Fr. Michael Joncas) was only too happy to help when I called and asked if I could borrow a cup of ashes.  I took a margarine container from the Sunday School and met him in the sacristy of PBVM – “what a neighborly thing for Fr. Michael to do,” I thought; “I will be sure to let him borrow some Lutefisk from our annual Smorgasbord should he ever have a death wish.”

Ashes at the ready, I proceeded to plan and “advertise” the service, which would be the first time ashes would EVER have been imposed in this congregation.  I made sure (at the suggestion of my supervisor) to list this as an optional part of the service, both in the bulletin and in the welcome that evening.  When it was time to invite people forward for an ash cross to be traced over the same place where they were “crossed” at their baptism, I nervously waited to see if anyone stood up to leave the safety of their pew.  Surprisingly, more than half of the people came forward, and as I was marking the last person in line with the words “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” my supervisor stood up, came forward, bowed his head with a slight smile, and received his ashen cross.  Realizing I hadn’t received one myself, I asked if he would “cross” me – which he did.  I have imposed ashes, and been imposed upon, each year since then.

Some might say “Ashes to Go” doesn’t offer a person receiving their cross the full benefit of a worship service in which this act of penitence is nestled.  That may well be true.  But I believe it is a helpful invitation to those who might not otherwise have considered connecting with a long neglected part of their faith life from the past, or discovering something new and meaningful about what a cross of ashes might say to them today.  Watch the video -- see the connections being made, hear the appreciation for people being met where they are, listen as invitations are made to those who might not have believed such an invitation could ever be meant for them.  I’m imagining the conversations which led pastors and staffs to consider offering “ashes to go” this year were not unlike that which I had with my trusted co-workers many years ago.  Thanks to those who believe that God’s imagination for reaching out and offering a gracious welcome may well be beyond our imaginations or comfort levels.  Thanks for this faithful witness to the power of the Cross to change our lives – inside and out.

Pax,

Bp. Mark

The Drought is Here

  “Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.’” 

                                                                     John 4

I spent the past three days driving my Prius through the very northern reaches of our synod in California visiting people, pastors and congregations from Chico to Yreka.  It was good to connect with these leaders; to hear the hopes, joys and concerns of their lives and ministries.  I was also shocked and amazed as I drove past Lake Shasta and Trinity Lake, pictured below.  They are alarmingly dry for this time of year, and with the snow pack at 10% of normal, it portends to be a long, hot, dry summer.  Water rationing is already in place, and some communities are being told their water supplies will be exhausted in a matter of weeks unless significant rain begins to fall.  Even with the rain falling this week, it will not be nearly enough to change what some climatologists are calling a “500 year drought.”

Five years ago, when I visited our Companion Synod in Rwanda, water was also an issue, but in a much different way.  There are many places where you don’t simply turn on a faucet to get all the water you want.  Children and adults are forced to walk for miles every day to fill 5 gallon yellow water cans, and then carry them – full and weighing 40 pounds – the same miles back to their homes.   

To offer assistance to these thirsty people, the Lutheran Church of Rwanda and the Lutheran World Federation were working to create water catchment systems, so that more sources of clean, potable water would be available in remote areas.  Their profound witness -– reaching into the everyday lives of people with the love and regard Christ has for ALL -- causes me to wonder -– “What will our witness as followers of Jesus be in the coming months (and possibly years) of drought conditions?”  What support will we offer to the people of the communities we serve, in what will surely be “ground zero” for the worst effects of the drought?  

• What will our words and actions say to those whose lives will be devastated because of the lack of our usually abundant supplies of water? 
• How will we stand with and support both the growers and the gatherers who may well be standing in food lines together before the summer is out? 
• How will we support the firefighters and those whose homes or lives have been lost when a predicted dangerous fire season comes?
• How will we advocate for using less water for the lawns and shrubs around our homes and churches so fields and orchards and livestock will have more water?
•  How will we advocate with State and local water officials for just, equitable and ecologically sound water policies?

I’ll be driving and praying about this (with my eyes open) when I’m “on the road again.”  I look forward to reading/hearing how you are walking and working and imagining God’s presence through these and other questions in our lives and ministries...

“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?”       

Matthew 25

Pax,

Bp. Mark