Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites, and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem. It happened, late one afternoon, when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. … [When David heard that Bathsheba was pregnant he had her husband killed (endangering his army in the process) and married her.]
—2 Samuel 11. 1-4

How easily we who have power abuse it. In the spring, because we can, we go off to war and ravage others. Of course we send others to do our violence. From our lofty places of power, because we can, we take people into our desires. Their own lives and loves matter little, only ours. In our palaces of fear, because we need to, we build lies to protect us, and construct elaborate defenses to protect our lies, and we use other people’s lives as the bricks of our defenses. And this seems right to us. We do it as individuals, as groups, as a nation.

Most of us don’t rape and murder, but in our own ways we all use people. In our minds we make them less than real, less than whole, so that all they represent to us us is either what we want or what we fear. Reduced to objects, we use them as it seems to us they were meant to be used. It seems right to us. Power distorts our vision. It is only with love that we can truly see people, see reality.

•

God, we confess our abuse of power, our blindness to our selfishness and fear.
We confess that we sometimes see others not as real people but as projections of our fears and desires.
We confess that we are often unaware of the power we wield, the privilege we abuse, the people we hurt.
We confess that we excuse the abuse committed by our heroes.
We ask forgiveness, and pray that you will open our eyes.

We pray for healing, courage and grace for victims of abuse,
for victims of rape,
for victims of murder, war and violence.
We pray for all those whom we dehumanize to protect our sense of security.
We pray for the healing of our worship of power.
We pray for the gifts of humility, honesty and compassion.
We pray for the mending of the world.
Amen.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Birds have been yelling at me all day,
trees trying to flag me down,
the sky making faces.

What does it take
to get
my attention?

In the room the clock taps is foot,
the window opens its eye,
the chair waits for me, patient, knowing.

Silence comes in to be with me,
doesn’t even need a chair
to be at ease.

Sunlight leans against a tree.
God and I just sit, saying nothing,
looking out the window.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

When someone walks into a crowd and sprays death and suffering around, the news media will spend hours telling us about a deranged shooter, but only mention in passing someone who gives their life in shielding a loved one from the bullets. Why is this? It’s because we are transfixed by the nature of violence. We are fascinated, in both fear and wonder, with violence as a form of power. Held back by our belief in the apparent power of violence, we have yet to come to realize that love is an even greater power.

Do not doubt the power that a person can have by spreading love through a crowd. It may not ever be known, and will certainly never make the news, but a person can exercise great power in spraying forgiveness and compassion around a room. One can make one’s home a nest of goodwill and loving kindness, from which one goes forth surreptitiously to cast their love upon unsuspecting and undeserving strangers. One can fearlessly display tenderness and forgiveness in public places, to the bewilderment of onlookers. Who could gauge how much suffering has been averted by the secret, unknowable prayers of people whose obsession is to spread love throughout the world? There are some who dedicate their lives to this work alone.

In fact, I recommend it. Become as single-minded in compassion as others may be in fear, hate, violence or hard-heartedness. Grant love and blessing without regard either to people’s deserving or to your own fate. Love indiscriminately, and people will witness a truly world-changing power. It’s happened before. It can happen again. Even in your own town.

May love surround you. May grace abound. May healing and new life flow through you all of your days. And may you be fearlessly, relentlessly gentle. Peace.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.
         
         
David settles in as king of Israel, and wants to build a temple. He says to God, “I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent.” But God says, “I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle.” God promises to uphold David, and says “The Lord will make you a house” (2 Samuel 7.11). I know what that means: that God will make for David a house, and also that God will establish him as a royal dynasty: the house of David. But when I was young I liked to imagine that it meant “I will make you into a house,” like, turn you into a three-bedroom bungalow. Poof!

Funny little joke. Except that, of course, it’s actually true. Paul says that “your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor. 9.16), so in a way God has made you into a house. And Ephesians 2.22 says it, too, not just of individuals but all of us—in fact specifically disparate groups, Jews and gentiles—“You are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”

Ephesians is talking about the formation of the early church, but the principle is more universal. God lives in our unity with others. When we believe there are others with whom we have nothing in common, what we have in common is God. Jew and gentile, fundamentalist and progressive, gay-basher and rainbow-wearer, Taizé and praise band, Romney and Obama, believer and atheist—God does not just ask us to get along; God lives in the bond between us. God has made us into a house.

We don’t have to play on the same team, but we do have to remember that we are part of the same humanity. We are all cells of one organism. Our opinions, values and behaviors distinguish us but can’t divide us. Part of the power of a nonviolent protester facing armed authority is that the latter suffer from the illusion of our separateness, and therefore lack power, while the nonviolent one knows that in fact they are one; and that truth has all the power. That’s why Jesus’ death was also a victory. In dying for his enemies, he did away with their their enmity. They became one. It’s a cosmic shift: enmity has no power.

You are a house. God has chosen you as a tent to move about and live in. Your opponents are also houses of God. And we all are a house where God lives, not in any of us alone, but in the sacred space among us. Be mindful of this mystery, for it is the foundation of a great and powerful dynasty.
         
         
Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

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

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

The apostles gathered around Jesus,
and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them,
“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.
And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.
—Mark 6. 30-32

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Let go of all you have accomplished.
Step out of what you have done,
the who you think you are
that comes from something,
into the who that is I AM.
Be still.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Set everything down.
The great burden of being yourself,
what everyone thinks, even you,
the work of remembering,
what you must and mustn’t,
let them all go.
Be still.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Come to the sabbath place
where nothing, even you,
is fashioned, everything just is.
Come into the rest that is God,
the silence from which your light pours,
the Spirit brooding over the waters.
Here where you are received,
receive yourself.
Be still.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Dark and early in your story someone fearful
of your inborn glory took it
and buried it behind your house,
and you, innocently, and wise to save yourself
from their greater wrath,
believed its absence.

It’s not a pompous glory,
insistent on regard, but sure and quiet
as a wildflower’s, asking nothing.

And so you’ve lived—so have we all—
without it, your heart shoveled over
with self-doubt and apology, as if
you have no place or voice here
among angels.

What do you think happened
to the cripples who flocked
to Jesus, the mute, the paralyzed,
bent over, shut out, gone mad?

And all he meant to say was this:
you shine. You bring a gift
as no one else, and you belong.
Your Word deserves a hearing,
and this world needs your beauty
and your grace. There is no rank
you fall below, no worth you fail to match.
Your shuttering was evil, and God
wants it undone, and wants you whole.

And so she takes you by the hand
and raises you to stand, to walk, to speak.
She listens to your song with joy.
She rains upon the earth
until you are unafraid of your radiance
and all our houses are surrounded by wildflowers.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

______________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Christ is our peace;
in his flesh he has made different groups into one
and has broken down the dividing wall,
that is, the hostility between us.
—Ephesians 2.14

Like the first day of Creation,
this has been done, and can’t be undone.
As a sculptor carving us from one block,
God has made us this way.
We are not free to make ourselves otherwise.
The only lives we have are these
the Loving One has drawn out of himself,
beyond our small worlds.
As a mother bearing us,
the Living Presence has made us,
in her flesh, made us one.
Not similar, related, or obligated, but
one.

Our separateness is the most seductive illusion.
God’s one kiss awakens us.
You are one with the stranger, the enemy,
the very ones you distance yourself from.
Their blood runs in your veins,
your dreams haunt them.
We breathe in one another.
One hand holds us all.

Thus it is possible
to love your neighbor as yourself.

To extend mercy to the other
is not difficult;
it is the return to the One you love.

What God has joined together
let no one break asunder.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

Everything is green, all right,
unlimited, alive and moist.
The mosses have intensified,
the bloated brook’s a winding slug
asleep beneath its sheets of scum,
the space between the trees is thick
with wood-sweat, scents and bugs,
the undergrowth bushed up so much
that you can’t see the marsh, or light.
Vines creep and cling, insatiable;
they’d gladly take the woods. The mud’s
a green brown sludge of living things.
A clump of sunlight lies fermenting
down between the cattail’s legs.
Air hangs like laundry, limp and damp.
What mercy empty wind would be,
an arctic breath, or something dry,
some bounds to this fecundity,
some distance, or a little death.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

In this Sunday’s Old Testament reading David dances before the ark “with all his might,” apparently pretty scantily clad. He’s “girded by a linen ephod.” Whatever an ephod is, it isn’t up to dress code. Michal, the former king’s daughter, reams him out for it.

Meanwhile in the Gospel lesson, Herod’s daughter dances at his birthday party. She is applauded, and rewarded with anything she asks—and agrees to ask for the murder of John the Baptist.

Two dances: one soaked in depravity yet praised; the other an honest act of prayer, yet scorned. One is entangled in secret desires and schemes, in bitterness and revenge; the other is free and simple. One dancer reveals too much joy, too much of himself; the other reveals too much fear, too much of the palace’s corruption. One dance is caught up in calculations for getting what one wants; the other is a pure gift. One is designed to please others; the other is offered without regard to what others think. One is a coin passed through many hands; the other a a song sung once.

And here’s the rub: the one that becomes murderous is the one that fits in, that follows the rules, that functions as an acceptable tool of those in power. It’s the dance of the system. The one that is pure worship, the dance of the heart, becomes a scandal.

Pure love never fits in. It exposes us, makes us look foolish. It comes from a place where who we are, our naked self, is lovely, and offered without reservation. It breaks rules, and it often evokes resistance. Fitting in to get what we want is usually rewarded, often by something no less awful than exactly what we wanted. And then by being used by someone else for what they want.

You’re going to dance. The question is not whether, or even how. It’s why.

May God give you both good reason and courage to dance.

Deep Blessings,

Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

Right in the middle of his gospel about Jesus, when Jesus sends out his followers to preach and heal, Mark tells a long, sordid story about Herod’s execution of John the Baptist. Herod actually likes listening to John, though he doesn’t get most of what he’s talking about. But among the things John criticizes is Herod’s marriage to his sister in law. So to appease his wife he has John thrown in jail. No particular reason. Just being snotty. Then at a party, the wine flows, everybody gets a little loose, and Herod’s daughter gets up and dances. He likes it so much he promises her anything. She consults mom, who says, “the head of John the Baptist.” And that’s what she asks for. Well, Herod hates to look like a jerk going back on his promise, so has has John killed and his fresh head brought in on a platter. A really nice platter.

The abuse of power, the sleazy inner workings of a dysfunctional family, the easy disregard for life by the powerful, the disasters that come from trying to please others, the poison of resentment, the horrors of corrupt leadership, the destructive power of fear, and, oh, yeah, the tragic price paid by people who tell the truth. Wow. What a slimy tale. Sounds like an episode from The Sopranos. What does that have to do with Jesus? What the heck is it even doing in the Bible?

It’s there because, well, it’s here. That’s the world Jesus sends us out into. We’re sent to be gentle, forgiving, truthful and having integrity among people who are fearful, conniving and self-serving by pleasing others. We’re supposed to be different. It’s also a hint that behind every execution there’s probably a pretty sad backstory full of fearful abuse by those in power. Count on it. People never humbly, courageously condemn others to death.

Today I’m mindful of people in prison, most of whom are there unjustly. (In the US we have over 2 million people in jail, mostly poor black men, mostly there for nonviolent crimes. Nice.) They may or may not have actually harmed society any more than the rich and powerful who put them there. Their real crime is that they are powerless. They are pawns of a system in which people use human life to assuage their fears and maintain their sense of power and social status. You don’t have to be Herod to be part of that story. (The Corrections Corporation of America makes a tidy sum keeping black people in jail. They even promise a 90% occupancy rate. How thoughtful of them.)

The moral of this sad story? Be nonviolent anyway. Don’t use people. Tell the truth. Stand in solidarity with the powerless. And reject the for-profit prison system. The alternative: enjoy the party— and don’t forget to take home your party favor.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

__________________

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net