Archive for
February, 2009
February 26th, 2009
(photo by Rainier Ehrhardt)
“When death comes… I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world”
– Mary Oliver
Last night (Wednesday, February 25) we hosted an Ash Wednesday service. Even though Christians have observed some form of the imposition of ashes for well over a thousand years, it is a relative new observance for Baptists.
Yesterday I worked on the meditation or reflection for the service, experimented with the ash mixture with olive oil (no one teaches these things in seminary), and went over the order of worship with several of the other ministers. Just as we were wrapping up our church supper, I robed up and joined the other ministers in the sanctuary were we sat quietly for the service to begin.
I love a church service that begins in quiet: no piano, or idle gabbing, or frantic, last minute activity. Just to sit for a few brief minutes and listen to the pews creak while finding stillness can be such a gift.
The first half of the service was filled with music, scripture readings and reflections and so even to the most stalwart of Baptists it was still a fairly typical worship service, if not a bit more subdued than usual. I transitioned from my message on penitence and mortality – traditional themes for Ash Wednesday – into an explanation of the imposition of ashes.
Traditionally the sign of the cross is marked on the foreheads of the worshippers as the minister recites the phrase: “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” I was a bit concerned that the marking of the forehead may be a bit much for the congregation, most of which have never participated in such a service before. It is such a public thing, to be marked by ashes on the forehead. I feel like such a spectacle and so I no doubt projected that anxiety on to others. As a compromise we chose to mark the palm of the hands with the sign of the cross, which also provides symbolism of the nail marks of Christ’s own hands.
What I was not prepared for was the overwhelming emotion I felt as one by one members, family and guests alike came forward and opened their hands to me to be marked. The hand can be such a powerful and personal extension of a person. There was the grimy hand of a child, still lined with dirt from play, who nonetheless opened it up to be marked as I said: Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. One by one they patiently came to be marked. Old, arthritic hands who may not even be here next year; hands of young married couples with a “whole life in front of them”; calloused hands, soft hands, large hands, and frail hands – one by one opened up to be marked. Some hands belonged to folks who have suffered the death of someone they love and cherish. Other hands just innocently were opened with no such sense of loss.
I found myself leaning in close to each one and without much thought clasping their hand with mine as I marked them with the cross. For a few there were messy, ashy hugs by the communion table and for some just an intimate exchange of knowing glances. I realized as never before that we are in this together – this life, this death, this healing salvation of which we spend our entire lives seeking.
Marking the hands was initially a compromise to me. It turned out to be an avenue of cherished participation with my church family. Their hands, our hands, clasped together and held by the hand of God remembering that we are but dust and to dust we shall return.
February 18th, 2009
I love the rich breadth of Christianity, which means I am open to “new” ways of experiencing community with fellow believers. Observing Ash Wednesday (this year it is on February 25) is an old practice for believers around the world but fairly new to most Baptists. I have attended many such services, but this year will be the first time I will host one. I have taken the liberty of turning to many resources including books, the internet, our minister of music Stan Pylant and Episcopalians!
In fact, the ashes we will use are compliments of our sister congregation, The Church of the Good Shepherd. I decided I had too much on my mind than to try to figure out how to burn, sift, and mix ashes for the service. The dear chair of the altar guild offered to give me a can of ashes, which she would have waiting for me at their church.
Yesterday I arrived to pick up the can (formally cashews, but didn’t that surprise anybody that reached in for a few nuts). On the lid of the can was written: Ashes – Greg DeLoach (he is not in here). This is an important disclaimer of which I am happy to confirm.
Yet is this not what Ash Wednesday is about? – a time to reflect on our own mortality as well as repentance. Philosophers have long exclaimed that the way to prepare for life is to contemplate death. Morbid? I don’t think so. Often Jesus spoke of the need to release one’s life (which is in itself an enormous act of faith) in order to gain it (Matthew 10:7; 16:25). Furthermore Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Jesus’ journey to the deadly timbers of the cross.
We are surrounded by silly symbols of our anxieties that oftentimes are manifested in over-consumption and violence. Yet we are all, in the end, destined to be no more than a can of ashes on this earth. Ash Wednesday and Lent call on us to ignore the anxious voices that cannot believe in anything but the self, and listen to the voice of the One, who out of dust, breathed in each the breath of life. There will come a day when our breath returns to the Creator.
Finally the ashes that mark us on Ash Wednesday are an invitation to follow. For me this season is an important reminder that whatever it is I face or will face in my life – and one can scarcely imagine what awaits us in our lifetime – its scope does not exceed the reach of God. I do not know how I will face all that confronts me, but then again that is not my primary concern. I am called to follow on this journey.
I am blessed to join with you in the journey too. Please, if you can, join with a church family next Wednesday to pray, reflect and be marked to follow. “…you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19) First Baptist Church of Augusta will be observing this service at 6:00 PM in our sanctuary. There we begin the time of waiting and following to the cross, the grave, and blessed Easter morning.
Greg
February 11th, 2009
I have a not-so-secret confession to make – I love classic soul music. Sure, I recognize that some may think I should listen to more respectable if not conventional music. Stan and Keith listen to the arias, Rodger is rather fond of Broadway tunes, and Andy listens to country. I certainly do not have a problem with their iPod playlists, but if I were on a deserted island, give me the music of Marvin Gaye, Barry White and Luther Vandross!
This genre of musically is usually labeled as “rhythm and blues” but most everyone knows it is “soul music” plain and simple. Good soul music sings of love lost and love gained. When I hear Ray Charles sing “Georgia” I smell red clay and green pines and love growing up in this state. When Marvin Gaye sings “Mercy Me” I long for an imagined past of better times. And Amy and I cannot help dancing in the kitchen when Barry White croons “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love.”
Nearly all good soul music is rooted in love. In fact, all good music is rooted in love. Music speaks to our heart’s longings, our desires, and our hopes. When George Jones wails “He Stopped Loving Her Today,” we don’t have to have the same experience to identify with the song. Love lost and love gained connects us.
No wonder that Paul the apostle described love as the greatest gift. We are shaped and given life because of God’s generous love. We love and are loved. It is what we desire and it is what we need. Love is the foundational mission of our lives and of our church. Imagine how all our relationships would be transformed if we rooted them in a solid love ethic. Imagine how this would shape how we treat our neighbors – next door and across the globe. Just imagine!
Dorothy Day put it succinctly in The Long Loneliness : “The final word is love.” It is good for the soul.
Greg
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. (1 John 4:7)
February 2nd, 2009
Not so long ago I made the suggestion to my beloved that we should take a yoga class together that is offered at the “Y” next door to the church. You read this correctly: yoga…together. I have never taken yoga in my life but I did as a kid love the television series Kung Fu and the characters often looked like they could at least lead a class in yoga, but I digress…
Last Friday we started our first yoga class. I figured how bad could this be? I am in good shape, jog regular and lift weights. Yoga is just stretching, right? Amy and I joined a group of ladies (yep, I am the only man in this class, but I am okay with that) who were all far more experienced than the two of us. I have to admit that the class itself was not that bad. True, I have the balance of a hippo on a high wire. At times the instructor would have us place our legs in positions that my body has never seen except for that time I fell off of a silo as a kid. But other than some rather impossible contortions and strange positions, it was not so bad. I barely broke a sweat.
The next day, however, is another story. I was hurting in places I did not know existed with muscles I did not know I needed! I did a little reading on yoga and discovered that its history goes back to ascetic practices in the Hindu tradition. “Oh,” I am thinking to myself, “it is suppose to hurt.” Well, not really. I am in pain in part because I am not in as good of shape as I thought and I am utilizing muscles that have been, well, neglected.
Like piano, painting, singing, typing, and now I know, yoga, much of life can be reduced to “use it or lose it.” We cannot cultivate an interior life if we do not pray. We cannot treasure love if we do not demonstrate love. We cannot know peace if there is no peace in our own actions.
To follow Jesus is more than an assent to good beliefs. It is about good practices.
Grow, stretch, reach – these are the suggested verbs of our discipleship. We are salt and light, so says Jesus, therefore season the lives around you with the ways of Christ’s mercy; shine God’s love to friend and stranger alike. You have been created in God’s image. Now go reflect the Almighty!
Stretching forward and alongside,
Greg
“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.” (Matthew 5:14)