Month: April 2011

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

While they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” … He took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”
         — Matthew 26.21, 27-28

We know where this story is going, and so does Jesus. The powers are already seeking his life. Judas has already snapped in place the last piece of his trap. Jesus will face injustice, brutality and evil. Even his friends will abandon him. And yet in the face of all this he offers extraordinary kindness. Knowing full well his friends will turn on him, he shares a meal with them, placing the one who who will betray him in the seat of honor at his side. He says his blood that will be spilled is a sign not of our guilt, but of our forgiveness. Even to his tormentors he will extend grace and gentleness.

Jesus’ response to evil is love. This is the fulfillment of his teaching of nonviolence. Watch in this Holy Week how Jesus embodies the steadfast kindness of God. Even to our deepest evil, God responds with gentleness and love.

As you witness this grace, confess your sin, and be honest with God about your hurtful ways and your complicity in the suffering of others—not to take on guilt, but to open yourself to forgiveness. Take your place at the table with him, among his Beloved who are forgiven. Eat and drink deeply of God’s grace and mercy. Pray that you may faithfully follow Jesus and take up your cross: that you may receive Christ’s spirit of compassion, and the courage God gives us to be gentle and loving even in the face of people’s fear, anger and violence. Go with Jesus into this rough world, bearing in your heart God’s extraordinary kindness to all people.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

Behold, your king is coming to you,
         humble, and mounted on a donkey,
         on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
                  —Matthew 21.5

         
         

O lowly King,
forgoing the war horse,
regal on a donkey,
King of Israel,
Ruler of the Universe,
lower than all of us—
Hosanna! Save us!
From our love of war horses,
of being above others,
of being right, being in control—
save us!
         
         

O Prince of Humility,
riding a burro,
Sovereign beneath us,
we honor you.
Grant us your royal confidence
in gentleness and grace.
For adored, abandoned and belittled,
over all things you reign;
over all things you prevail.
         
         

O thou whose majesty is invisible,
whose power and honor
look foolish to the fearful,
grant us love in the face of domination.
Grant us the courage to say
to all publics and powers,
“I follow the King of the Universe,
the little man full of mercy
on the jackass.”

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

Their prayers go out
    some to a God they know
        some to a hope they have
            some to no one

Their suffering their tears
    their longing their silence
        their not believing
            is their prayer

Their prayers go out like rain
    covering the earth
        and we walk in it
            and do not know

like the song of a bird
    we do not see
        and we wonder
            what this deep aching is

like the smoke of incense
    we try not to breathe it in
        but it is our breath
            we too breathe it out

like spiderwebs we walk through
    we get off the elevator trailing them
        they are the laying on of hands
            we speak and they rumple our words

They walk around the house within
    We hear the footsteps, the floor creak
        Do we dare stand
            by the window?

Their prayers go out
    and haunt the earth
        a gold thread
            a line of tears

They are our prayers
    if only we heard
        if only we prayed
            They are God’s prayers

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
This far into spring, there is still some snow in the woods, white shadows, fading crescents of ice lying beneath the thickets. I wonder how long it will take the warm air and rain to melt it all away. I wonder when the last spring snow will fall, and disappear.

This far through Lent, I’m not done repenting. This far along in my life, there are still icy places in my heart, resistance, life frozen up, covered. I wonder how long it will take for it to melt away.

The woods have no anxiety about this. Some trees are already budding, and there are little pussy willows fuzzing up at the edge of the meadow. Others are as bare and stern as in December. The beech trees are still hanging onto last year’s leaves. They do not compare or judge, or concern themselves with gauging the future. They simply open themselves to the sun as it moves in among them.

“How much?” “How long?” “How good?” These are the questions of the anxious mind, and are of no help. Leave them behind, go into the meadow, and wait. Our hearts thaw out, and sins melt away, not under pressure, not by grinding or digging, but by resting in the warmth of God. Rest there, then, and enjoy the grace that even with ice at your feet you are enfolded in a gentle, warm embrace. Let it hold you. Forget the blizzards of your guilt, let go of yearning for the summer of you perfection, and simply be in this present moment, held in the warmth of God.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

         
         

A spirit came, adorned in white,
with flowers of spring, in rising light,
and laid a hand upon my breast,
and said, “’Tis you, among the rest,
I love. And as each moment slips
away your name is on my lips.
Each breath you take, and then release,
I breathe, until such breathing cease.
And though you do not see me here,
I hold your heart. I’m always near.”
So deeply known, and loved, I fell
in love, and yet I could not tell
how such a lovely stranger might
have come to know my day and night,
my soul, the heart and boundaries
of all my life. Then gently these
and all my questions, with a smile
the spirit interrupted, while
embracing me, intent and grave
and ardent, and then gently gave
me such a look of tender calm,
and traced a line across my palm,
and, wreathed in silence, breathing peace,
said, “Truly, I will not release
my claim upon you, precious child,
‘till you are finally reconciled
with my low, patient, humble way—
no, not until your dying day.
I give you nothing, but enfold
your hands in mine so that you hold
me always, and you always know
that I hold you, ‘till you let go.
I will be with you, always near,
‘till you, like I, shall disappear.”
The spirit placed an airy ring
upon my finger, promising,
“To you, my love, I will be true,
and some day I’ll come back for you.
So watch, each moment, and attend.
It won’t be long; the path will end.”
The spirit gave a garland made
of flowers (that would quickly fade),
and touched my forehead with a prayer
and left me, trembling, standing there—
and yet, I vow, did not depart,
but lives here still within my heart.
Now every time I sigh, or sleep,
or sit in silence, close and deep,
I see the shadow of my friend
who is my path, and is my end,
and give and take, with every breath,
the gift that is my life, and death.
And all things change, and all things die;
each moment passes, as do I.
I die to all but this brief day
‘till I myself have gone that way.

         
         

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

_______________________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

When Lazarus heard his name
he took a sudden breath.
With visceral trembling blood resurged.
But then, as when awakening some days,
he lay a moment, mired,
reluctant to rise from the familiar
swaddling of his death.
Rising, even more than dying,
there could be no return:
for if he chose to stand,
all he knew would then be lost.

And still now every morning,
each momentary wish for healing
is a risk, a wakening call
to change, to choose,
to leave so much behind,
and be again made new.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

That without a word
you sat with me in grief,
me wounded and alone,
robbed beyond grasping,
you silent and present,
beyond grasping—
this was love.

That you did not save me
but accompanied me,

that when I fell apart,
confident in the whole you did not try
to glue back the pieces,

that you did not protect me from my pain,
my heart’s crucial kneading,
did not root around in the ashes
looking for blame,

that you resisted the temptation of explanation,
the ruse of a plan, some clever dramatic device
as if the click of some little metal piece into place
could dismiss what was happening in my heart,

that you set me no timetable, that you planted
no fence beyond the strong horse of my anguish,

that you withheld your dexterous knowhow,
so readily shouldered the weight,
accepted the nails of powerlessness,
dared the nothingness empty-handed,

that you were still there
as the petals fell,
patient for the rolling away of the stone—

this is how you loved me,
helpless, raw and given.
This is how you love me still,
since love that has passed through death
will never die again.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
“Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.”
         —Ezekiel 37. 4-5

So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” … He said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?”… Jesus began to weep. … He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
         — from John 11

Under the roaring silence of your death,
a voice calls you by name.
Tunneling under the the world yelling at you,
a bird song that pierces iron walls,
a strong hand, unflinching, a voice
reaches into the dark mountain,
reaches through the cages and sewers,
the vast abandoned valleys,
into the shark’s mouth of fear,
into the cave of your death, and its own,
and finds the skeleton,
finds the bones made of stone and despair,
gathers your bones from trash piles,
and speaks to your fragments,
wraps its flesh around your bones,
gives them its blood, its breath, its life.
Only the voice of a love that fierce
can call your name
and you come out,
out of your old death
into the quiet morning,
a squinting newborn,
stunned, beloved, swaddled,
ready to be set free,
knowing nothing
but the sound of that voice.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

Awake at night, in covering darkness,
held unfaithfully by sleep,
I stirred. I became incomplete.

I was helpless: in love,
unable to resist.
I rose and crept out into the dark.

Guided by the faintest light I sought you,
and found you and fell into your arms,
and you wrapped yourself around me,

your arms the arms of dawn,
your legs the shining hills of earth,
your hair the radiance of sun.

You enveloped me in light,
and we lay together in the clear day,
for all to see.

Why, then, time after time,
am I still ashamed, as if it is a secret,
that we love each other so?

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         

Though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the people there were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” …. Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” … Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” … Jesus began to weep. … He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
         —from John 11.1-44

Compassion is the courage to enter into another’s suffering for the sake of their blessing. It is not always problem solving. It is presence, out of which we may take action to bring about healing or justice. Jesus went to Bethany not merely to fix Lazarus, but to enter into the sisters’ grief, the grief of all mortals that even Jesus cannot spare us from. Thomas, Faithful Thomas, recognized his courage, and chose to share it.

It is only from the place of weeping with those who weep that we can enact healing for those who suffer and justice for those who are oppressed. What stands between us and the eradication of poverty and injustice is not power, resources or adequate economic theories, but the insulation we place in fear between us: we are afraid of feeling their loneliness or their hunger, touching their hopelessness, sharing their pain.

Our Lenten fasting is a practice of courage, of entering into another’s suffering, even a small bit of it, for the sake of compassion and justice, and learning to care about love more than comfort and security. Our fasting and prayer is no mere gesture. It is practice, by which we enter into the suffering of the world for the sake of its healing. In so doing we enter into the heart of God, whose very nature is self-giving love for the sake of her beloved Creation. The measure of our suffering is of no matter: in prayer and fasting we die to ourselves and become part of the Body of Christ, sharing the love of Jesus and the courage of the saints and martyrs. Forty-three years ago on this day, April 4, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. In prayer and in fasting, his courage and compassion becomes ours.

In love, weep with those who weep and stand with those who are oppressed, in the spirit of the One who weeps with us in love, the One who calls us out of our fear into new life, who raises us up, unbinds us and sets us free.

         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

______________________
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net