The Last Sunday after Epiphany

The last Sunday after Epiphany the Gospel lesson in the Episcopal Church is always one of the versions of the Transfiguration.

The Feast of the Transfiguration is on August 6 each year, but we also read that story on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday.

Here are some thoughts on Transfiguration I used as notes for my sermon today. It isn't the sermon itself since there were things I said about the story of Elijah and Elisha from Kings and told a funny story about 'rending your clothing' which Elisha did after the fiery chariot carried his mentor Elijah to God.

But I think I also said most of these words.

Happy Transfiguration Sunday!!!

TRANSFIGURATION

          JUST BEFORE THE LONG, LENTEN SOJOURN IN THE DESERT, WE GO WITH JESUS TO THE MOUNTAINTOP.

          IN THE BIBLE, GOD DWELLS ON MOUNTAINTOPS.

          MOSES MET GOD TO THE TOP OF MOUNT SINAI TO RECEIVE THE LAW AND HIS FACE SHOWN WITH SUCH RADIANCE NO ONE COULD LOOK ON ITS BRIGHTNESS.

          JESUS WENT TO THE MOUNTAIN TOP AND WAS TRANSFIGURED AS HE SPOKE WITH MOSES AND ELIJAH. JESUS’ VERY BEING WAS RADIANT AND BRIGHT.

          AT THE TRANSFIGURATION, PETER SUGGESTED THEY BUILD MONUMENTS AND STAY ON THE MOUNTAINTOP. AT THAT MOMENT THE CLOUD OF HOLINESS SURROUNDED THEM AND THEY WERE TERRIFIED.

          FOR ME—PERHAPS FOR YOU—I FIND MYSELF IN THE ‘CLOUD’ MORE OFTEN THAN ON THE MOUNTAINTOP.

          I FIND MYSELF IN THE ‘CLOUD’ OF CONFUSION AND THE ‘CLOUD’ OF DOUBT AND THE ‘CLOUD’ OF FEAR MORE OFTEN THAN I FIND MYSELF ON THE MOUNTAINTOP WITH GOD.

          BUT IT IS VITAL AND IMPORTANT TO REMEMBER THAT GOD SPOKE TO THE DISCIPLES FROM THE CLOUD. THE ‘CLOUDS’ OF LIFE ARE THE DWELLING PLACES OF GOD.

          WE MAY MEET GOD ON THE MOUNTAINTOPS OF LIFE. BUT IF YOU ARE ANYTHING LIKE ME, THERE ARE A LOT MORE CLOUDS THAN MOUNTAINTOPS.

          AND GOD IS THERE AS WELL. GOD IS IN THE CLOUDS AS WELL AS ON THE MOUNTAINTOPS. OUR ‘CALL’ IS TO SEE AND HEAR GOD WHEN THINGS GET CLOUDY AND OBSCURE.

          “WE CANNOT STAY HERE,” JESUS TOLD PETER. IT IS NO DIFFERENT FOR US.

          THE WORK WE HAVE TO DO IS ‘DOWN IN THE VALLEY’, WHERE THE PEOPLE LIVE. WE CANNOT STAY ON THE MOUNTAINTOPS OF LIFE.

          —I PRAY WE WILL EXPERIENCE SOME MOUNTAINTOPS WITH GOD.

          BUT EVEN MORE THAN THAT, I PRAY WE WILL LISTEN WITH OUR HEARTS FOR THE VOICE OF GOD IN THE CLOUDS OF LIFE. I PRAY WE WILL KNOW THAT GOD IS WITH US IN THE VALLEYS AND IN THE DARKNESS.

          AND MY GREATEST PRAYER IS THAT YOU WILL CONTINUE THE WORK GOD HAS GIVEN YOU TO DO—TO BE CHRIST’S BODY IN THE CONFUSION AND FEAR AND PAIN OF THIS WORLD.

          YOUR ‘WORK’—YOUR MINISTRY AND MISSION—IS ‘ON THE GROUND’ AND IN THE LOW PLACES. YOUR MINISTRY AND MISSION IS IN THE CLOUDY PLACES.

          THERE YOU WILL SERVE GOD.

          THERE YOU WILL FIND GOD AND BE TRANSFIGURED.

          THERE…IN THE CLOUDS OF LIFE…GOD WILL FIND YOU AND WILL LEAD YOU WITH HOLINESS AND LOVE….

OK, you are reading again....

Over a 150 visits to the Castor Oil Tree today. Maybe I got your attention.

Or maybe it's some hackers in Russia trying to take over my blog.

Or maybe I shouldn't care one way or another. The writing is what matters to me, not who is reading.

As a 'thank you' however, I'll reprint the first post ever, though it's not the anniversary yet. I really didn't know what I was doing back then. But now, some 2048 posts later, I still don't know what I'm doing. Perhaps that the point--not knowing what you're doing drives you either to crash through life...or to 'ponder'.


Sitting under the Castor Oil Tree (March 7, 2009)

The character in the Bible I have always been drawn to in Jonah. I identify with his story. Like Jonah, I have experienced being taken where I didn't want to go by God and I've been disgruntled with the way things went. The belly of a big old fish isn't a pleasant means of travel either!

The story ends (in case you don't know it) with Jonah upset and complaining on a hillside over the city of Nineveh, which God has saved through Jonah. Jonah didn't want to go there to start with--hence the ride in the fish stomach--and predicted that God would save the city though it should have been destroyed for its wickedness. "You dragged me half way around the world," he tells God, "and didn't destroy the city....I knew it would turn out this way. I'm angry, so angry I could die!"

God causes a tree to grow to shade Jonah from the sun (scholars think it might have been a Castor oil tree--the implications are astonishing!). Then God sends a worm to kill the tree. Well, that sets Jonah off! "How dare you kill my tree?" he challenges the creator. "I'm so angry I could die...."

God simply reminds him that he is upset at the death of a tree he didn't plant or nurture and yet he doesn't see the value of saving all the people of the great city Nineveh...along with their cattle and beasts.

And the story ends. No resolution. Jonah simply left to ponder all that. There's no sequel either--no "Jonah II" or "Jonah: the next chapter", nothing like that. It's just Jonah, sitting under the bare branches of the dead tree, pondering.

What I want to do is use this blog to do simply that, ponder about things. I've been an Episcopal priest for over 30 years. I'm approaching a time to retire and I've got a lot of pondering left to do--about God, about the church, about religion, about life and death and everything involved in that. Before the big fish swallowed me up and carried me to my own Nineveh (ordination in the Episcopal Church) I had intended a vastly different life. I was going to write "The Great American Novel" for starters and get a PhD in American Literature and disappear into some small liberal arts college, most likely in the Mid-Atlantic states and teach people like me--rural people, Appalachians and southerners, simple people, deep thinkers though slow talkers...lovely for all that--to love words and write words themselves.

God (I suppose, though I even ponder that...) had other ideas and I ended up spending most of my ministry in the wilds of two cities in Connecticut (of all places) among tribes so foreign to me I scarcely understood their language and whose customs confounded me. And I found myself often among people (The Episcopal Cult) who made me anxious by their very being. Which is why I stuck to urban churches, I suppose--being a priest in Greenwich would have sent me into some form of shock...as I would have driven them to hypertension at the least.

I am one who 'ponders' quite a bit and hoped this might be a way to 'ponder in print' for anyone else who might be leaning in that direction to read.

Ever so often, someone calls my bluff when I go into my "I'm just a boy from the mountains of West Virginia" persona. And I know they're right. I've lived too long among the heathens of New England to be able to avoid absorbing some of their alien customs and ways of thinking. Plus, I've been involved in too much education to pretend to be a rube from the hills. But I do, from time to time, miss that boy who grew up in a part of the world as foreign as Albania to most people, where the lush and endless mountains pressed down so majestically that there were few places, where I lived, that were flat in an area wider than a football field. That boy knew secrets I am only beginning, having entered my sixth decade of the journey toward the Lover of Souls, to remember and cherish.

My maternal grandmother, who had as much influence on me as anyone I know, used to say--"Jimmy, don't get above your raisin'". I probably have done that, in more ways that I'm able to recognize, but I ponder that part of me--buried deeply below layer after layer of living (as the mountains were layer after layer of long-ago life).

Sometimes I get a fleeting glimpse of him, running madly into the woods that surrounded him on all sides, spending hours seeking paths through the deep tangles of forest, climbing upward, ever upward until he found a place to sit and look down on the little town where he lived--spread out like a toy village to him--so he could ponder, alone and undisturbed, for a while.

When I was in high school, I wrote a regular column for the school newspaper call "The Outsider". As I ponder my life, I realize that has been a constant: I've always felt just beyond the fringe wherever I was. I've watched much more than I've participated. And I've pondered many things.

So, what I've decided to do is sit here on the hillside for a while, beneath the ruins of the Castor oil tree and ponder some more. And, if you wish, share my pondering with you--whoever you are out there in cyber-Land.

Two caveats: I'm pretty much a Luddite when it comes to technology--probably smart enough to learn about it but never very interested, so this blog is an adventure for me. My friend Sandy is helping me so it shouldn't be too much of a mess. Secondly, I've realized writing this that there is no 'spell check' on the blog. Either I can get a dictionary or ask your forgiveness for my spelling. I'm a magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa ENGLISH major (WVU '69) who never could conquer spelling all the words I longed to write.

I suppose I'll just ask your tolerance.

Suddenly nobody is reading

I've gone for several months having 100-175 views of this blog a day.

The last 3 days were 29, 48 and 34.

Why is nobody reading my ponderings?

I have a vanity steak, I must admit. So I'm hurt.

Not so hurt as to stop writing. If we were down to 2 or 3 a day, I'd write. It would be like email.

But have I offended? Have I gone off message? Is something wrong?

Comment so I'll know, okay?

And keep on reading.

Lots of stuff to write about just around the corner. If I can hold my nose and do it.

What I see from where I write

My little office is on a 12 foot by 8 foot landing at the top of our back stairs--it's the south end of the house.

I have two 6 foot bookcases with my printer and photos and 30 or so books. I gave most all my theology and religion books to the church libraries at St. John's, Waterbury and St. James, Higganum when I retired from full-time ministry. (I'm retired for goodness sake, now I can read only poetry and fiction....Actually that's mostly what I read before I retire, but I had serious books then.) Hard copies of a lot of stuff I've written (including 2 novels, a murder mystery, a fantasy novella and a memoir about priesthood) and other junk (like all the paper from 8 or 9 years of tax returns--clergy taxes are complicated but good!)

My desk with my computer faces a window where I can see the trees in our side yard (mostly evergreens taller than the house) and watch birds. Sitting on the space in the window are a picture of me as a high school senior (was I ever that young and clean shaven?) and one of Bern in her 20's with short hair for one of the few times in her life. She is beautiful and radiant and doesn't look much different today. There must be a picture of her in the attic growing older....

On the right side of the window are  three plaques. One has a face coming out of it and the words, In Vino Veritas ('in wine, truth'). The face is of a man who is obviously drunk. Below that is a small plaque that says SHALOM, the Hebrew word so hopelessly translated as "Peace" in English. It's real meaning is wholeness, completeness, everything included and in harmony. It's the word I use to end letters and emails. "Shalom, jim". I always use a small j for Jim since 'shalom' humbles me so.

Below that is a larger plague with the raised letters: VOCATUS ATQUE NON VOCATUS DEUS ACERIT.  Which means, "Bidden or unbidden, God is present". Quiet wisdom, I'd say.

On the other side of the window is a lovely Native American 'dream catcher' with red feathers all around it my daughter gave me. I believe it does 'catch dreams' for me.

To my left, on the wall is my degree from Virginia Seminary (Master in Divinity Cum Laude), an icon of John the Baptist's beheading and my Phi Beta Kappa award from college. Go figure.

On the wall to my right, which Bern painted a brilliant shade of Crimson, is my ordination certificate and my degrees from Harvard (Master of Theological Studies) and Hartford Seminary (Doctor of Ministry). They have hung in those spots since we moved here in 1989. I probably wouldn't hang all that academia if I were doing it today. But I was younger then and still impressed with myself.

I have a second table that sits at a 90 degree angle from my desk. It is covered with a mess I cannot describe, a doll of Hideki Matsui and the painting Bern gave me for Christmas. (Actually, she didn't like it and thought it a failure but I love it and made her let me have it.) It is me sitting on a chair in a baseball hat--the liberal blue one that says "We're still here" on it--reading a book, which I do much of each day. I'm sitting under a representation of a castor oil tree (she researched it and is sure it is accurate). All that is missing is a worm crawling toward the tree. She agreed to add that and then I'll have it framed and hang it behind me in the office.

My little office has three windows--right in front, behind me and to the right. Only light drives out darkness. And light is what I seek.

So, that's where I sit and what I see while writing these posts.

Don't know if you wanted to know, but I told you anyway.

Shalom, jim

WORDS "mean something"

Our President (and he is ours though I will not name him) needs to realize simply this: Words Have Meaning.

In a speech in Ohio, he allowed that the Democratic members of Congress may have committed 'treason' for not applauding his State of the Union Address.

Treason is defined in Article 3, Section 3 of the Constitution. Let me quote:

"Treason against the United Stated shall consist only in levying war against them or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort."

Pretty sure, I am (to write like Yoda speaks) that not applauding a speech can in any way on earth or in heaven, be construed as 'treason'.

Besides, later in Article 3, Section 3, it says: "Congress shall have power to declare the punishment for Treason."

CONGRESS and the COURTS determine "treason" and punish it--not the Executive Branch.

"Loose lips sink ships". Not knowing or acknowledging what words "mean" can undermine so much.

Democrats committing 'treason' by not applauding is like attacking the FBI, CIA and Justice Department--the institutions to enforce the law.

And who has been doing that?

You know.

Attacking our law enforcement agencies may be like 'levying war' against the US and the Constitution.

That might just be closer to 'treason' than not applauding a speech.

And attacking them because they are trying to determine if anyone was "adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort"--as in Robert Mueller's Russia investigation...well, that might have a name.

It begins with T and ends with N....

Ponder that, please. A lot depends on you and me pondering this and then speaking/acting out.

Truly....

WORDS mean SOMETHING....

There is a god of football

There is a god of football and he/she smiled on the Eagles!

The last play of the Super Bowl (LII, by the way, I like the Roman numerals) could have been one more brick in the unbreachable wall of Tom Brady's greatness. And if Gronkowski had caught the pass I would have had one more reason to hate the New England Patriots.

But the football god was gracious and the ball fell uncaught in the end zone and all was right with the world.

I really don't understand why I hate the Patriots so much. It may be that it's because so many people around here love them so much. I can be contrary like that. I think of myself as an outsider and that may be behind my loathing.

I've hated them for years and what has that gotten me? Heart=break after heart-break, that's what.

So now that the Eagles have won I don't have to hold on to my hatred. The football god has smiled on me as well! And, about time!!!

One thing my hatred of a football team has shown me is how it is that for much of my life people have hated my favorite baseball team, the Yankees.

Winning is good for the soul, but too much winning breeds contempt.

(By the way, after a hiatus of some years, the Yankee hatred is coming back. And for good reason, I'd say. They look ready to win too much again....Yea!)

However, I just learned Tom Brady left the field without congratulating Nick Foles, the Eagle quarterback and Bill Belechek (sp) won't explain why he benched Butler--a defensive  back who played 98% of the defensive plays this year. Cracks in the wall? Maybe I'll hate them a little longer....

Sort of stuck

Seems to me that I mostly write these days about the weather, my dog (who still declines) and President what's his name.

So, I need to lighten up some and write about something that doesn't annoy or depress or anger me.

So, what about eating?

Bern and I take turns cooking dinner. We never eat breakfast or lunch together but we always eat dinner with each other. I like the rhythm of taking turns. I made pasta sauce yesterday with crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, onions, mushrooms and Italian sausage over three-cheese ravioli with broiled bread and butter.

Tonight she baked a chicken on top of onions. celery, peppers and carrots with broccoli and scalloped potatoes.

We eat a lot of fish of many kinds--salmon and cod are the favorites but only sock-eyed salmon and wild caught cod.

We do salad a lot.

We seldom eat dessert but Bern is on an ice-cream kick now.

She has eating kicks--now it is banana bread with chocolate and ice cream. And Cheerios out of the box. She goes through stuff like that until she doesn't any more. I don't know the last time she ate a sandwich--except for unsalted peanut butter and dill pickles on sour dough and open-faced. My mother used to take those to school for lunch except she used plain white bread. I've never tried it.

Well, I now see this isn't nearly as interesting as the weather, poor Bela and politics.

Sorry to bore you!!!