Age Has Some Benefits

 I Don’t Want To Be Demure or Respectable, by Mary Oliver

I don’t want to be demure or respectable.

I was that way, asleep, for years.

That way, you forget too many important things.

How the little stones, even if you can’t hear them,

are singing.

How the river can’t wait to get to the ocean and

the sky, it’s been there before.

What traveling is that!

It is a joy to imagine such distances.

I could skip sleep for the next hundred years.

There is a fire in the lashes of my eyes.

It doesn’t matter where I am, it could be a small room.

The glimmer of gold Böhme saw on the kitchen pot

was missed by everyone else in the house.

Maybe the fire in my lashes is a reflection of that.

Why do I have so many thoughts, they are driving me

crazy.

Why am I always going anywhere, instead of

somewhere?

Listen to me or not, it hardly matters.

I’m not trying to be wise, that would be foolish.

I’m just chattering.

Age does have some benefits, even though my dentist told me that there were none, while working on the root canal in my tooth. I used to be demure and respectable; indeed I wanted to be that kind of woman when I was 30 years younger. Age and becoming a grandparent have changed that. Respectable, yes. Demure, no.

My granddaughter has taught me the wonderful world of make-believe. No longer a realist, I can imagine unicorns jumping on my bed. My twin grandsons showed me that language is spoken in many ways and “Yuk” is their favorite. Like me in my “old age”, they repeat some things and that’s just fine. I sing songs now, not with the demure sounds of a church mouse, but with the childlike gusto of a toddler. Following the cues of my grandchildren, I can ask for help more readily. I can express my needs. I can say “NO” without guilt. I know that messes can be cleaned up and that nothing is missed except people and things they love.

I was asleep for years living in the land of respectability and demurity, forgetting to find joy in simple things like eating corn on the cob. Or eating ice cream and not worrying if it drips all over my clothes and covers most of my face. In that far away land of youth, I forgot too many important things, like the fact that life can be lived only one day at a time.

I found pleasure in watching my son-in-law build sand castles on the beach, and not being upset when my grandsons destroyed them. I marveled at the little stones in my front yard, deposited there by them, and got excited when we saw a baby bunny hop across our path. We chased birds and ate fish. It wasn’t just the river that couldn’t wait to get to the ocean. It was all of us.

I’m not going somewhere anymore. No, I am going anywhere that brings me such simple joys, offers me hope, and embraces life and love. I’m done with those thoughts that drive me crazy. It doesn’t matter to me where I find glimmers of gold; they are like fairy dust, showing up unexpectedly in my life and not in my bank account. Really, listen to me or not. I’m not trying to be wise, that would be foolish. I’m just chattering to myself, which is another benefit of “old age.” 

Shake Off the Dust

 Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill    The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling            Mark 6:1-13

“Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.”

            Shake off the dust that is on your feet when someone does not welcome you. When people reject you, leave and shut the door behind you. If people are not willing to hear your message, then go. Testify and be witnesses to people who are willing to listen about the power of God.

This one little snippet of the gospel of Mark has so much power in its words that I have struggled to unpack it. I thought about basketball since my husband and I are season ticket holders for the Boston Celtics. It all began for us in 1973 when our first date was a fierce game of one on one. Paul claims that he won; my truth reads differently. He claims that he gave me an unfair advantage; I don’t see it that way. This is how we roll in politics and 47 years of married life.

We have been to several basketball games this past season as the Celtics ended their run to the playoffs. Limping along with injuries and the effects of COVID 19, they were defeated in Game 5 by the Brooklyn Nets. Have you heard of Kyrie Irving, one of the Nets point guards? He played for the Celtics basketball team until he disappeared from some crucial games, with no explanation. He made public promises that were broken. He made pejorative comments about fans. Later he spoke about mental health and his own personal struggles. 

Many Celtics fans took offense at what some considered unprofessional behavior. Salaries were high, especially in comparison to health care workers and teachers. When, claiming his 1st Nations heritage, Irving smudged TD Garden before a game, and people wondered who and what needed cleansing? In his defense, people argued that we needed to separate the basketball star from the person, the game of hoops from the life and faith of Kyrie Irving.

Jesus had already been questioned by his family and friends before he arrived in Nazareth. Was he demon-possessed and crazy, some people wondered? Like Irving, there were questions about his mental health. Upon his arrival in Nazareth, attending his home synagogue, Jesus was also rejected, despite having done many deeds of power before then. He had cured women, children, and men who were suffering from all sorts of diseases, and then tamed the sea during an unexpected storm. What’s not to like about that?

Now I am not comparing Jesus, our Messiah, to Kyrie Irving, the basketball star, but they both might be described as prophets. Prophets speak the truth as they see it, especially in difficult and highly charged times. They speak truth to power and to the powerless; and people often “take offense” at their words. Prophets do not always agree with each other. Often, they are not welcome on their home courts, in their hometowns, in their synagogues, churches, or mosques, nor even in their own families.

Hospitality in biblical times was of paramount importance. To not welcome anyone, whether a stranger or a guest, not to mention a relative or a friend, was considered a major sin. “If people don’t welcome you,” Jesus told his disciples, “then shake the dust off your feet and leave.”

After the smudging incident, Kyrie Irving, now as a member of the Brooklyn Nets, avoided every chance to return to TD Garden during the regular season. He knew that his reception would not be favorable, indeed unwelcome, and whether it was dealing with the media, the fans, or his rejection, some thought that he could not face the music. Playoff games were a different story however; he knew he would have to show up. So, to protect himself, as some people claimed, he made comments about how racist the Boston crowd is.

Paul and I were at TD Garden when Kyrie Irving returned. To say that he was rejected is an understatement. The fans booed him every time he touched the ball. Every single time! Relentless, they mocked him, using expletives to express their anger, and rejected him in every way possible. While no racist comments were noted publicly, one young man threw a water bottle at Irving on his way out. But right before that, Irving made his own statement of rejection. He purposely walked to center court, stepped on the Celtics logo, and then wiped his sneaker across the floor.

Commentators were outraged and confused. Some called it unprofessional; others claimed that his behavior had been done before by others. Boos and gestures are just part of the game, they said, and Irving later acknowledged. His silent message, however, raised some questions for me. Was he responding in kind to the behavior he had just experienced from the fans? Like basketball, what goes around comes around. Was he telling everyone that the Nets would win the next game and therefore he would not be coming back?

Recalling this passage from scripture, I wondered if Irving was claiming his identity not only as a basketball player, and a great one at that, but also as a prophet? Was he speaking truth to the crowd without using any words? Knowing he was not welcome there, his gesture was a testimony against the people whom he was leaving behind. To shake the dust off one’s feet is an act of disapproval. In effect, the message says, “I’m done with you.” As St. Francis of Assisi once said, “Preach the gospel at all times. If necessary, use words.” 

Now, before this game, at the urging of colleagues, and sitting on the sidelines with an injury, a Celtics player, another basketball star and a prophet in his own right, named Jaylen Brown, spoke to the media about systemic racism, about Boston fans, and the truth as he saw it. Quote, “I think racism right now is bigger than basketball,” he stated. “I think that racism is bigger than Game 3 of the Playoffs. So I want to urge the media to paint that narrative as well, because when it’s painted in that manner, it’s insensitive to people who are actually dealing with racism on a daily basis,” said Jaylen Brown, who also recognized his privilege as an athlete and the power of his spoken words.

In the game of basketball, a defensive foul is committed when one player aggressively blocks another player, causing the potential for injury. Offensive fouls are when a player aggressively moves to the basket and sends the defender flying. Such sacrifices are considered “taking one for the team.” Fouls are part of the game of basketball and of life; and in truth, we all give and take offenses. We foul and we do harm, consciously and unconsciously, individually and as part of systems.

The people of Nazareth took offense at Jesus. Why? Because he revealed an amazing power to heal people, not harm them, and yet they knew him only as the carpenter’s son, and not as a prophet. How dare he show anyone another truth about himself? And so, his family, friends, and people rejected him. They wanted him to behave according to their standards. And in response, Jesus acknowledged that “prophets are not without honor except in their hometowns.” He tells his disciples that if people do not welcome them, then they should leave. Shake the dust off your feet and move on to others who will listen, believe, and be healed.

Now, I know that we have many issues in our country, with systemic racism and mental health being among them. In no way do I want to minimize their importance; I know the reality of racism, and sexism, and ageism. I find the uptick in hate crimes and violence to be worrisome; and this past year we all have struggled to maintain our physical and mental health. And yet I can also testify that we each hold many identities. I identify as a prophet, priest, and pastor. I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother, and grandmother. I am a baptized Christian, a fan of certain teams, and I can testify to many truths.

Unless I walk in another person’s shoes, I will never fully understand their personal experiences, their motivations, nor their intentions. I also know that I don’t have to take offense if someone is throwing shade at me, or bottles, or making abusive comments. I can leave the court. I can walk away from my hometown. I can speak my truth without shouting expletives at the ones who have hurt me.

Moving on does not mean letting go, however. Just as the Celtics have plenty of work to do on improving their games, so do we, as citizens of this great country. Jaylen Brown spoke specifically about racism in Boston. Quote, “I know that every Celtics fan in the arena is not a racist,” stated Brown. “We have people of all walks of life, ethnicities, colors, that are die-hard Celtics fans. So, I think by painting every Celtics fan as a racist would be unfair. However, in Boston we have got a lot of work to do. No question. The incarceration rate is ridiculous. The wealth disparity is embarrassing. The inequality in education specifically in Boston public schools needs to be better.” (End quote)

Jesus was a preacher and a prophet in his own day, sharing multiple identities, eventually not only a carpenter’s son, and a prophet, but also the Son of God. He spoke His truths to power and to the powerless because He acted with the power of God's Spirit. He used his words and gestures to respectfully show that God’s love is the greatest weapon of all to combat human sin. Despite being rejected by his own people, at his last supper, he wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped the dust off His disciples’ feet. Then He got up and took one for the team.  

When we each claim our identities as beloved children of God, created equally in the image of God, and tapping into the power of God’s Spirit, we can be prophets in our own right. We can testify to God’s love for everyone, no exceptions. As disciples of Jesus, traveling two by two, we can help heal our society of its “isms” and illnesses. Preach the gospel at all times. And use words if necessary.

Hunger, Healing, and Hope

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts

Mark 5:21-43

Let us pray:

Come Holy Spirit, and give us God’s grace that we may know the healing power of Christ’s love. Amen.

In a conversation with some clergy colleagues a few weeks ago, I heard them talk about the blessings and challenges of opening up our parishes for increased numbers of people. There were three “H’s” upon which we agreed: hunger, healing, and hope. Enter the gospel of Mark. Considered the first gospel to be written, and an eyewitness to the first century disciples and Jesus, Mark is filled with fast paced healings. People are hungry for good news and Jesus offers them hope.

In today’s passage, Jesus heals two women, a statement by, in, and of itself. Women were second class citizens, just like children, and considered to be chattel, property to be owned and used by their owners. In today’s gospel, there is a woman who has suffered from hemorrhages for 12 years, and therefore she became isolated because she was considered ‘unclean.’ She dared to touch Jesus in the crowd. 

The other woman was Jairus’ 12 year old daughter; and Jairus believed that Jesus could heal his daughter who lay dying at home. Both people were hungry for healing. Both people were looking to Jesus for hope, and the response of Jesus is recurrent throughout this gospel. “Do not fear, only believe,” he said. And then, after each healing event, Jesus says, “Your faith has made you well.”

 Really? I mean, just believe? Just like that, no questions asked? Now, consider that symbiotic relationship between fear and faith. I have a long history and relationship with both, and quite frankly I can get a little prickly when well-meaning people suggest that a healing did not occur because someone’s faith was too little. And today, the Lord knows that fear is all around us. Lord knows, we’ve been begging for healing and hope.

So what about fear? According to modern day culture, the only two things we should fear are death and taxes. According to Herb Kaighan, an octogenarian and 12 step spiritual retreat leader, there are only two innate fears: the fear of loud noises and the fear of falling. The condo collapse in Miami must have been truly terrifying! Kaighan claims that all other fears are learned behavior. Like ticks on a dog, we accumulate them from the very beginning of our existence and through our personal experiences.

At one point in my own faith journey, my spiritual director called me “Little Miss Much Afraid.” I was afraid of a lot of things for a variety of reasons; and so my faith journey involved a great hunger for healing and hope. I eventually discovered that what is learned can also be unlearned; and old beliefs can be replaced by new beliefs. What I’ve also learned is that I cannot eliminate my fears, only balance them with faith. Like a seesaw, one thing goes up and the other goes down. 

So what exactly were those two people in Mark’s gospel afraid of, I asked myself? First, clearly the leader of the synagogue, named Jairus, was afraid that his daughter was going to die. I can understand that. She was only 12 years old, on the brink of womanhood, and his only daughter. He loved her and he didn’t want to lose her. So great was his fear that Jairus was willing to throw himself at the feet of Jesus and beg for help. I can understand that too. I’ve been there, and done that.

“No worries,” said Jesus to Jairus. “She’s only sleeping. Just believe me.” “Yeah, right,” laughs the crowd, echoing their sentiments of disbelief to one another. But then like the sun peeking out from a cloud of sorrow, Jesus offers a glimmer of hope. Maybe she is only sleeping? And so Mark invites us to be eyewitnesses with his disciples and the girl's parents when we go into the bedroom with Jesus. There he tells Jairus’ daughter, “Little girl, get up!” And she does.

The disciples had seen what Jesus had done on the other side of the sea before this encounter. They had witnessed Jesus heal a man, tormented by demons, and which caused him to be ostracized from his family, friends, and community of faith. Homeless, he lived in a cave until Jesus appeared and healed him. The disciples had also seen Jesus tame the sea on their way back home. With fear in their voices, they asked one another, “Who does that?”

You know that we’ve all hungered for healing and hope during this past year of COVID 19. I don’t need to state the obvious  - even though I just did. While pandemic diseases have claimed the most vulnerable of people, often the poorest, death is still an equal opportunity employer. Eventually it comes to us all. At times of fear then, you may have wondered like me, did my prayers make any difference? Is there more to life than what I can see and touch? And how can I just believe in the invisible powers of God when the visible powers of viruses, violence, and vitriol keep tipping my seesaw? 

Sickness and death are common and universal experiences for us all; and yet our cultural responses to them will vary. According to John Pilch, in his book The Cultural Dictionary of the Bible, for “biblical people, every misfortune was caused by a ‘who’ (God or an evil spirit) and not by a ‘what’ (germs, viruses, genes, and hormones.) The problem therefore could only be helped by a ‘who’ rather than a ‘what’. In today’s gospel Jesus is the ‘who’ who can help us with our ‘whats.’

Pilch also compares the cultural system of the United States to theirs. We tend to prefer the value of achievement over our existence. Oftentimes events like a pandemic, the loss of a loved one or a job, an unwelcome retirement, the crumbling of a building or a marriage, or the aging process can throw our whole sense of integrity, worthiness, and life’s meaning into question. We worry about things that are far beyond our control rather than living simply, one minute and one day at a time, letting go and letting God handle what we cannot. We come to believe that life alone is a gift to be appreciated, and that God holds our lives always in God’s hands. 

In the New Testament, Jesus heals people by restoring them to a proper state of existence in a variety of ways, ending their isolation: lepers are made clean, the blind see, the mute speak, demons are cast out, the sea becomes calm, the girl is roused from her bed, and the woman stops hemorrhaging. Healing was about the restoration of relationships and a reintegration into one’s community not necessarily about a change in physicality. Above all, Jesus healed them by ending their isolation. Welcome back people of Redeemer!

I remember an old joke from years ago when the Sunday School teacher was questioning her class of 1st graders about their faith, perhaps as Barrie Rose is doing this morning. The teacher began by saying. “If I give up all my money, give everything I have to the church, and to the poor and the needy of the world, will I get into heaven?” “NO,” says the class. “How about if I teach Sunday school; serve on the vestry; visit nursing homes and hospitals, and feed the hungry with good food, will I get into heaven then?” “NO,” says the class. “OK, how about if I go to seminary, a preaching class in Virginia, become the rector of Redeemer, surely then I will get into heaven?” For the third time, the class of 1st graders yell, “NO!”

“All right,” the teacher says, thinking that these kids are smarter than she realized. “Then how do I get into heaven?” she asked. And the little boy in the back of the room yells, “YOU GOTTA BE DEAD.”

Members of The Church of the Redeemer in Chestnut Hill, despite your amazing stewardship campaign, the gifts that you have and you share, and the resources that enable your mission and ministry, you are like every other community of faith suffering in one way or another from the post-traumatic stress of this pandemic. Yes, we can point to the who, who caused it (read China or the virus) and the ‘what’ that can cure it (read science and vaccines); but our true health and salvation can come only through the power of God. Integrated once again with our family, friends, and members of our communities we can be grateful today simply for our existence. The gift of life and eternal life is given to us by our Creator. God’s mission is always one of reconciliation, restoration, and resurrection; and we are the beneficiaries.

This passage from the gospel of Mark and today’s cultural reality, invites some questions for personal reflection. What is it that you hunger for? And where are you in need of healing? Will you laugh in disbelief or will you hang onto that glimmer of hope? Will you put your whole trust in God rather than living in fear?

 Hope is the bird that sings in our souls before the light of day. Hope is the anchor under our seesaw that tips our lives from fear into faith. Hope rests in the hands of God, who is always faithful. Believe in the good news of the gospel of Mark; for Jesus will heal us and our faith in God will make us well. Amen.

Flame-dancing Spirit

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Flame-dancing Spirit

Flame-dancing Spirit, come,

Sweep us off our feet and

Dance with us through our days.

Surprise us with your rhythms;

Dare us to try new steps, explore

New patterns and new partnerships;

Release us from old routines

To swing in abandoned joy and

Fearful adventure. And

In the intervals,

Rest us

In your still centre. Amen.

Janet Morley in The St. Hilda Community, Women Included

        I love this meditation by Janet Morley for many reasons. I am not a dancer. In fact, at weddings, when everyone piles onto the floor and dances to the music, I resist the urge to run to the ladies room or retire to my bed. I have my reasons.

        I like the idea of a flame-dancing Spirit. I can see and feel the Spirit moving within me and all around me, offering “invitations to sweep us off our feet, dance with us through our days, surprise us with its rhymes, dare us to take new steps, explore new patterns and new partnerships, and release us from old routines.” Yep, I’m on it!  Sign me up for #TheBigShift! I’m ready to dance.

        I never thought that I would return to a settled cure in one parish, after feeling called to leave that form of ministry in Connecticut in 2012. Since then I’ve been swept along with the Spirit to Ireland, Spain, Chile, Maryland, New Hampshire and Vermont, before I landed in Massachusetts in 2015. I have delighted in service to God’s mission, inside and outside the walls of any one particular parish. Then COVID 19 changed my life, your life, and our lives! The dance music stopped.

        Like grace, a new invitation came to me recently and unexpectedly. Beginning in September, I will be back on the dance floor, in the pulpit, and at the altar, serving as a part-time associate clergy at Church of the Redeemer in Chestnut Hill. On Sundays, I’ll join their rector, the Rev. Mike Dangelo, as preacher, presider, and celebrant in a place that offers glorious music and a faithful community. Then on Thursdays, I’ll join the women’s Bible study group to talk about this flame-dancing Spirit. I’m ready to dance with them in “abandoned joy.” I’m ready to ground myself in a new way, and rest in the Centre when the music stops.

        But wait, there’s more, said the flame-dancing Spirit. I have another invitation for you - a new and fearful adventure. So I said, “Yes,” again. Recently, I joined the Friends of the Anglican Pilgrim Centre of Santiago, Spain. We hope to help Anglican and other Protestant pilgrims at the end of their journeys on the Camino find a safe and welcoming place, with beds and food for refreshment, a chapel and gardens for spiritual reflection and renewal, where pilgrims will have time to share their experiences. 

        Perhaps in these new, fearful, and joy-filled adventures I will find the meaning of “it” all. Perhaps in this Big Shift I will drop my masks and dance as if no one is watching.

        The Flame-dancing Spirit is alive and well on the dance floor and She’s dancing with you, me, and the Lord of the Dance! 

Clever Fox

Good-bye Fox, by Mary Oliver

He was lying under a tree, licking up the shade,

Hello again, Fox, I said.

And hello to you too, said Fox, looking up and not bounding away.

You’re not running away? I said.

Well, I’ve heard of your conversation about us. News travels even among foxes, as you might know or not know.

What conversation do you mean?

Some lady said to you, “The hunt is good for the fox.” And you said, “Which fox?”

Yes, I remember. She was huffed.

So you’re okay in my book.

Your book! That was in my book, that’s the difference between us.

Yes, I agree. You fuss over life with your clever words, mulling and chewing on its meaning, while we just live it.

Oh!

Could anyone figure it out, to a finality? So why spend so much time trying. You fuss, we live. 

And he stood, slowly, for he was old now, and ambled away.

Clever Fox, by The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Have you ever noticed how certain animals get a bad rap? We hunt the foxes, cheering on the hounds that chase them, as we gallop after them on our sturdy and powerful horses. We bemoan the foxes in our hen houses, who steal the eggs, cutting lives off at the embryo. We do not call them smart or intelligent or clever, just sly. That’s Fox news.

Mary Oliver gets it. Creation and God’s creatures teach us humans how to live. Just this past week our clergy group, recently ordained and the wise old veterans who are their mentors, were invited to write aspirational sentences about our priestly identity. We fussed over our words, how to describe who we are, and what we’re about.

Can anyone figure it out? So why spend so much time fussing over our vocations, where words and the meaning of life are central. Why fuss? Why not just live it? Clever fox!

Fuzzy

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear. Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t fuzzy, was he?

Fifteen years ago, on May 30, 2006, my father, affectionately known as Fuzzy, died of pulmonary fibrosis at the age of 86. He lived a long and fruitful life and taught me many lessons even on the day he died. “Thank you for being a part of my life,” he said to family members gathered around his bedside. “I love you and good-bye.”

He was never one to share his emotions like that. When he was angry, he went radio silent. We called it “The Grunge.” When he was saddened by the death of his dog, he poured himself a few hefty tumblers of whiskey, went out into the backyard, dug a hole, and buried her. When he was happiest, he loosened his work clothes, lay back on the couch, and watched his favorite movies or listened to Jazz music.

I was Fuzzy’s middle child. I remember his church youth group leadership when we climbed Stone Mountain for an overnight camping trip. Sleeping soundly through the night, I was unaware of him overseeing some of the “party-goers” that needed some adult supervision. He was a man of quiet faith, occasionally quoting scripture to me without saying so. He supported me in one way or another, especially in sports and church. When I was struggling with deep sadness over a break-up and some choices I needed to make, he stayed home from work for a few days, just to provide me with a listening ear. 

When he entered hospice care, he left his Book of Common Prayer on the coffee table, visible to all who visited him. Not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, he was a unique beloved child of God, and my only Dad. I still miss him.

Why do I remember Fuzzy today? Because it’s Sunday, the feast of the Resurrection, the day he died and the day he rose to new life. Because it’s Memorial Day weekend and I’m grateful for him. Because I want to end my life someday like he did, saying “Thank you for being a part of my life. I love you and goodbye.”

What Can I Do?

 Pentecost The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

The television has two instruments that control it.

I get confused.

The washer asks me, do you want regular or delicate?

Honestly, I just want clean.

Everything is like that.

I won’t even mention cell phones.

I can turn on the light of the lamp beside my chair

Where a book is waiting, but that’s about it.

Oh yes, and I can strike a match and make fire.

What I Can Do, by Mary Oliver

I love her simplicity and honesty. There are some days that I feel as if Life has become way too complicated. The religious liturgical year rolls around and today we celebrate the feast of Pentecost. This drama has two channels. One is up close and personal: Jesus breathed His Spirit into the locked room and the other is communal: a ‘violent wind’ rushes down upon those who have gathered together from all nations. 

Honestly, some days I just want the Spirit to strike a match and make a fire. A fire that burns away my dross, our dross. A fire in my belly that creates light for others to see. A fire in my brain that enlivens my life and helps my perspective. I want the warmth of a fire for comfort and the soft glow of an evening fire, where marshmallows become soft and gooey and family and friends have gathered in a circle. At any fire pit, I want to know that God’s Spirit is alive and well in our confusing world.

“What Can I Do?” I ask Mary. And she replies from that spirit world of mystery to the God of my “not understanding.” Keep it simple. Open your mind and heart and wait patiently to receive God’s Spirit. Then do something. For the love of God, do something merciful, just, and kind today.

The Celtic Wheel of Grace

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

You who are risen with newness,

Be with all those who feel old this day.

Those with weary bodies, tired spirits,

those who feel stuck in ancient patterns that never seem to shift.

Help us to trust the cycle of your healing,

spiraling like the rings of a tree, coming to the same place

but deeper and different this year round.

Age in us a stability in the freshness of your mercy

appearing anyway, morning by morning.

~ Tess Ward, The Celtic Wheel of the Year

I am a Boston Celtics fan, a season ticket holder, who is not alone in saying how disappointed I am in how the team played this year. Acknowledging the pandemic and injury challenges they’ve endured, I understand how these things can affect your mental as well as physical health. True that, for us all. And yet, while they are young, they look old and tired. Spiraling like the rings of a tree, they have gotten worse as the year progressed. Clearly they have been stuck in their ancient patterns of “iso” ball, “hero” ball, rather than playing as a team, passing the ball, elevating the play of their teammates, rather than adding statistics to their own individual scorecards. Really, has money corrupted their play? Is arguing with the refs a solution to foul play? Have they become tone-deaf to their coaches and fans, shrugging off the boos and disapproval of the faithful with arrogance? Where is that healthy pride that calls forth our best efforts, even when we’re losing?

The disciples imagined that they had lost after their fearless leader was crucified. Some of them locked themselves away in a room in the city after the crucifixion; others began their long walk back to their former lives and families. A band went fishing in Galilee. Two walked the road to Emmaus. A few went home to Bethany, where Jesus’s BFFs had gathered for dinner before his crucifixion. And then, like a half court basketball shot at the end of game, “swish”, the disciples won. Jesus “showed up” with his resurrection appearances. He met them where they were. “Do not be afraid, and do not be sad,” He said to them. “I am risen and I go before you to prepare a place for you. Until then, love as I have loved you.” 

Winners of the game show up! The faithful of every generation know that there is a wideness in God’s mercy, fresh every morning. There is stability in the ancient traditions of all faiths and cultures. Trust in the cycle of God’s healing power; the Celtic Wheel of grace turns eternally every day, and every year.

We Have Work to Do

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

        I have never liked going to the dentist. And a few of them have been good friends. It’s just that while God blessed me with an infectious smile, the teeth in my mouth have often given me problems. I don’t like pain, and drilling my teeth gets on my nerves, pun intended. As I’ve aged, I have noticed creeping crookedness in my teeth and stains that have accumulated over the years. My enamel has weakened. When I began to have some gum disease many years ago, I was introduced to a periodontist. Dental floss, toothbrushes, and novacaine have been my best friends ever since. 

Too much information? I thought that my mouth, filled with silver, gold, and porcelain crowns, would protect me from more dental work. This week I discovered that I was wrong. Despite my daily care, I learned that I needed to have a root canal and another crown. So yesterday I spent  two hours in my favorite dentist’s chair. After my root canals (didn’t know I had three of them in this one tooth) I learned that I also needed some gum surgery before I could get my new crown! I was miserable with all that news. 

     Mary Oliver knew what to do when she was miserable. She would go down to the shore.

Life is a series of ebbs and flows, isn’t it? If I’m on the Cape, the ocean reminds me of this truth. When I’m in the city, I see a helicopter negotiate heavy winds in order to land on the roof of Massachusetts General Hospital. I remind myself that my misery is just a tooth. It’s not a crisis. It could be worse. In fact, it could be so much worse, doncha know? And like our country, I need some new infrastructure. Not cheap but worth it.

Mary Oliver, nature, and the work of first responders, even dentists, always give me new perspectives. Whether I’m on the shore or in the city, “Excuse me,” the Spirit says to me in Her lovely voice. “We have work to do.” Yes, we do.

I Go Down to the Shore, by Mary Oliver

I go down to the shore in the morning

and depending on the hour the waves

are rolling in or moving out,

and I say, oh, I am miserable,

what shall —

what should I do? And the sea says

in its lovely voice:

Excuse me, I have work to do.

The Question IS

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

In her four part poem entitled, The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac, Mary Oliver deals with her diagnosis of lung cancer. Cancer is the Fourth sign of the Zodiac, and part 2 raises the question: “What will it be like after the last day? Will I float into the sky or will I fray within the earth or a river - remembering nothing?”

I wonder about questions like these, especially after this past year, and as I grow closer to the end times, however they come for me and you. Will I push up flowers in the spring, like the daffodils bursting all around me? Will I feel the warmth of love beneath a snow-covered holy mountain, joining the flowing rivers below? Will I feast on well aged wines and rich food, as I did last night with friends, or will I remember nothing, including the promises made in scripture?

Remembering. Re-membering our bodies. Will I remember your names, our good times, and the laughter we shared. Will I remember the beauty of the earth, the deep blue sea, and the vast expanse of zodiacs in the sky? Will I remember how good God is, all the time?

“The man who has many answers is often found in the theaters of information where he offers, graciously, his deep findings.” We see him in our pulpits, our newsrooms, on stage, throughout FaceBook and YouTube. We hear him in the echoes of our empty minds.

“While the man who has only questions, to comfort himself, makes music,” she wrote. So I ask questions with Mary Oliver, God rest her soul, and I listen for the music. I chase the squirrels away from my feeder, the monkeys out of my brain, and ask the birds those very same questions. Will I join you someday too? Will I float into a bright blue sky, remembering the beauty of the earth? Or will I fray within the earth or a river? Will I even remember, beloved, your beloved name?”

2. The Fourth Sign of the Zodiac

The question is,

what will it be like

after the last day?

Will I float

into the sky

or will I fray

within the earth or a river—

remembering nothing?

How desperate I would be

if I couldn’t remember

the sun rising, if I couldn’t

remember trees, rivers; if I couldn’t

even remember, beloved,

your beloved name.

The Man Who Has many Answers

The man who has many answers

is often found

in the theaters of information

where he offers, graciously,

his deep findings.

While the man who has only questions,

to comfort himself, makes music.

Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings

Easter Fire

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

“We had reached the point in the service when the Paschal candle is lit as a reminder that in spite of the darkness of Jesus’ tomb, the radiance of new life is coming. ‘The light of Christ,’ the priest said as he held the fire to the candle. The little flame caught and flickered in the darkness, disappeared, then returned, quivering on and off in a draft of wind. I thought of the line I’d written in my journal earlier in the week. ‘I feel as if a candle has blown out inside me.’ Suddenly the priest lifted his hands and cupped them around the flame. As the light of the candle grew stronger, the sight of him cradling that little spark of fire burned into me. It was an image of bare, unscripted grace, the light of Christ. I carried that tiny piece of Easter fire inside me. The Christ-life is like the Paschal candle sputtering in the darkness. We need gentle hands cupped around it, coaxing the flame to grow stronger.”

Sue Monk Kidd

“Here I’m offering two snapshots of Easter grace for your consideration. One is of my colleague Tamra Tucker, who lit the New Fire and held the paschal candle on the cathedral plaza on Holy Saturday, surrounded by a handful of worshipful people while hundreds of others, indifferent to the rite, drove by or walked past listening to podcasts, earbuds in.”

Dean Amy McCreath, Cathedral Church of St. Paul

Indifference is not a word I would use during these pandemic times, as we all navigate our way through life. Indifference, no. Flickering flames of hope, yes. Winds blow from all directions threatening to snuff out our fire. What’s a person to do?

Return to the mystery. Get lost in the wonder of creation. Sing new songs. Plant new seeds. Roll away the stones that block the light of Christ, and let Easter come in. Then let HIM easter within you. 

Hands of the great high priest are cupped around us, our flickering flames of hope and quivering bodies of fear. His hands are marked and scarred by nails, raised in divine blessed assurance. Know that there is a tiny piece of Easter fire burning within you, an eternal flame of Resurrection Life that will never die.

“Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.” 

Gerald Manley Hopkins 

On Letting Easter In

 On Letting Easter In                                        The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

When dawn stands still with wonder

when birds jubilate in the trees

when buds hurry into blossoms

and grass starts wearing green

I always know that Easter wants to come again.

But deeper yet and richer still

When Jesus, imprisoned in me,

asks me to roll away the stone

that locks me in

then Easter wants to come again.

So, let it come

It’s one dawn past rising time

and Resurrection is the wildest news

that’s ever touched

this crazy, mixed-up world.

It says, yes!

when everything else says, no!

It says, up!

when everything else says, down!

It says, live!

when everything else says, die!

Easter’s standing at your door again,

so don’t you see that stone has got to go?

that stone of fear

of selfishness and pride

of greed and blindness

and all the other stones we use

to keep Jesus in the tomb.

So here’s to rolling stones away

to give our Lord the chance He needs

to rise and touch

a troubled, lonely world.

Some call it Resurrection.

It’s wild with wonder,

It’s beautiful and real

Intent on throwing life around

it touches and it heals!

~ Macrina Wiederkehr, Seasons of Your Heart

What a wonderful and curious thought. A reversal of sorts. How Lukan! Rather than imagining the women going to the tomb early Easter morning, only to find the stone rolled away, we’re inside the tomb, with Jesus imprisoned deep inside us. Rather than wondering who moved the stone, we’re asked by Jesus to roll it away!

What a wonderful and curious thought. Easter is standing on the outside of our tomb and She wants to come in. Oh, how we have wanted Easter to come! And yet, I wonder, has She been standing there all along, just waiting for us to let Her in?

I’ve lost my taste for the daily news for many reasons. Discord, allegations, improprieties, crises, and death magnified. The message is “no”, “down”, and “die” not “yes” like Mary, and “look up” with the ascension and “live” like Jesus. Macrina Wiederkehr says that we live in a crazy and mixed up world, and that “Resurrection is the ‘wildest news’ that ever touched” us. Will we give our Lord a chance to rise and touch our troubled and lonely world? Can we even hear the good news?

I once joined a choir as part of my Lenten discipline. When  choristers complained about this or that, the choirmaster would offer a simple word: attitude. When negative comments, judgment of others, and stinking thinking enter our brains, we know it’s time for an attitude adjustment. So, I ask myself: what stones of fear, pride, selfishness, greed, and blindness do I need to roll away? Whose voice am I listening to anyway? 

Meister Eckhart reminds us that “God is here, it’s we who have walked away.” Macrina  Wiedherkehr tells us that Easter is standing at our door asking to come in. Will we open our hearts and say yes?