Day 3 of Germany

Leftovers for breakfast, packed up, returned the rental car, then took a little train to the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) in Hannover.  We took the train to Berlin.  I was hoping it would be a little more impressive.  Bullet train makes it sound so cool, but it was just a train.  We took the bus a couple of stops and then dragged our suitcases through the cobblestones and road construction of Berlin.  Nick read later that tourists pulling suitcases along the streets is a pet-peeve of the residents of Berlin.  Our AirBNB host was waiting for us.  We went up 3 flights of steep stairs--I will remember next time to ask what floor apartments are on and if there is an elevator.

We stopped for lunch on our way to see the sites and stopped by the grocery store.  We accidentally left by a different exit than we had entered and I didn't realize it until a half an hour later.  Thankfully I had "borrowed" the map from our apartment and got us turned around in the right direction.

We got to the lightrail station.  It took us a while to buy our tickets.  It turns out that particular machine was not working properly.  We got on the right train and off at the right stop!  We were pleasantly surprised.

We went to the Fassbinder exibit first.  The exibit was interesting.  I know I will enjoy Fassbinder films more, now that I understand more what the director was going for.

We saw the wall memorial and visited Topography of Terror--the museum that sits on the old SS and Gestapo headquarters and explains the history of the city related to the Nazi regime.  We went to the Jewish Museum and Brandenburg gate, then out for pizza.  We probably walked 4-5 miles.  Our feet and legs were so tired.

This was the first day I noticed the Stolperstein--the stumbling blocks marking places where people were removed from their homes by the Nazis.  On this day, I thought a lot about Valerie Scheftel, the subject of the book "Paper Love" that Nick gave me for Christmas.  She was a Jewish doctor who lived in Berlin and survived several years there under the Nazis before she was removed and killed in a concentration camp.  I wondered about her life before and after the Nazis came to power, what parts of town she used to go to and live in, and what sites we were seeing that she used to see.

Germany Day 2

Tuesday May 12, 2015 Day 2

We rose early--slept so good!  Nick made eggs and we ate some croissants with them.

We drove to Luebbecke, where my family is from.  We found the church where my great-grandfather was probably baptized.  The birds were nesting in the clock tower and flying all around.  I walked around the outside of the building, looking at the old wooden doors, stained glass windows, and other art.

The first door I tried was unlocked.  I entered through a small wooden door, down worn stone steps, into a dark entry area.  There was a small font directly in the center and some banner stands and other metal equipment was being stored against the walls.

I walked into the main sanctuary.  It was still decorated for the Confirmation celebration held there the previous Sunday, as I read in the bulletin.  All around the walls were works of art, carvings and paintings.  I tried to imagine my family worshiping there.  Where did they sit?  What songs did they like?  How early did they embrace the Reformation?  I felt very connected.

Someone came in the church through the door I had left open for Nick to join me.  I think it was the janitor.  The door was not supposed to have been unlocked.  I introduced myself in German and told him my grandfather had been baptized there.   I asked if it was ok if I took pictures.  He said yes, but he seemed annoyed.  We were there over an hour taking pictures and sitting in the different pews.  I went up to the choir/organ loft, looked at all the colorful woodwork, and paged through the hymnal.  Even if this wasn't the church my grandfather was baptized, it was a very interesting place to visit.

Afterward we walked down through the town and looked around.









We drove back to Hannover and found a place to eat lunch, then walked around.  We found the Frank Ghery building.

Seeing several church spires nearby, we chose one at random and walked there.  It is called Kreuzchurch.  It was Lutheran!  I went in.  It was much more modern inside than the one in Luebbecke.  A group was talking and I waited for them to finish up.  One of the women approached me as the others were leaving.

I introduced myself and explained that I was a Lutheran pastor on Sabbatical.  It turns out that she is the church historian.  Her husband is a pastor.  They served a church in the US and their son is stationed in the military in the US.  She had to be on her way, but first she showed us the altar tryptich, painted by Lucas Cranach in 1537.  It originally was painted for a Roman Catholic congregation.  She pulled out her flashlight and shined it on a small boy on the far edge of the painting, pointing at Christ on the cross.  The boy had the face of Martin Luther.  The painter had, subversively, painted Martin Luther into a Roman Catholic altar piece!

I was beyond excited!  I never imagined just stumbling across a great work of art like this.  And then to have the church historian there to tell us a little bit about it!  It was thrilling! 

On our way to look for dinner, we stumbled across the ruins of a church, called Aegidienkirche, that was destroyed in WWII.  Its ruin is now a memorial to the victims of war and violence.  

We went out for actual Greek food, which was so delicious, then went to the Rathaus all lit up at night, to take some pictures. 

Our trip to Germany

I'm not that sure about this blog thing. When it was just my sermons, fine. That's all public stuff anyway. Going on about my sabbatical adventures is another thing entirely. How much sharing is too much? How much is too little? What will be interesting to other people? I am a pretty private person (I think?) so it just seems weird. Maybe I should have read more blogs before setting myself up for this. Anyway, here we go.

May 9:
We were leaving the next morning. Our boy was already at grandma's. Nick and I went out to grab a few things we needed and went out for lunch. When we got home, I started feeling absolutely terrible. I didn't want to admit that I was sick. I was shivering uncontrollably. I started downing the fluids and just went to bed and stayed there. I vaguely remember Nick saying he was going to the store and it seemed like he was cooking for hours. I felt terrible when he woke me up for dinner. I could barely eat a thing. My temperatures was 101.2. I called the nurseline and acted very brave. She said I should be able to fly as long as I wasn't coughing uncontrollably or constantly throwing up, as far as a doctor is concerned. But she also warned that the airline might not let me board if I looked visibly sick.

My fever had broken when I woke in the night. The next morning I felt like eating. My bones were very achy and my throat a little sore, but other than that, I was fine. Thank God we were on our way!

May 10:
We finished our packing and Nick went out to get a few last minute items. I dropped him off at the Max station with all our bags, drove the car back home, and walked the half mile back to the Max. PDX still mostly has the old carpet. Marlaina and Thor were there at the gate, LaVern's daughter and grandson. Turns out they were going to Germany, too! Everything went smoothly, arriving, checking bags, and boarding.We even had an empty seat next to us on the plane. We settled in for a 9 1/2 hour flight. My body was still aching from being sick, so it was very hard to get comfortable. I just drifted off when a toddler started screaming. His mom was nervous and he was upset and no one was getting any rest. I really wanted to go scoop him up and sing something to him to calm him down, but that wasn't going to be helpful. I kept praying that the mom would calm down, because I think he was feeding off of her nervous energy. So, 10 hours later we arrived sleepless. It would have been midnight Portland time. We had a 4 1/2 hour layover in Amsterdam, so it was almost 5 in the morning when we departed for Hannover. No sleep on that airplane either--it was only an hour flight. At least I bought some pain reliever in Amsterdam so that was helping my poor aches.

May 11: We arrived in Hannover! We got our bags easily and found the car rental. I spoke my first sentences of German to a German in a very long time and I was understood! I felt very brave. He switched to English for me, though. They commented that I was born in Germany, then upgraded our car to a Mercedes. Maybe those things are unrelated? I hadn't realized the rental cars all have GPS. That was going to make life a lot easier. Ours was set to Russian and we couldn't read the controls to change it to English, so I had to go in and ask the nice car rental person to come help us. It took him a few minutes to figure it out too, so we didn't feel so stupid.

Here's where we stayed the first 2 nights:

We drove straight to our AirBNB. It was out in the country a little bit. It was really beautiful in Hannover. There were wind turbines everywhere and fields of green and others of yellow. Check in wasn't until 6 and we were almost 2 hours early. We were so tired. But I asked directions to a grocery store from a nice man out watering his lawn and I understood enough to actually find the grocery store! We grabbed a few things we needed and then drove around wasting time and checking out this little neighborhood in Hannover. We arrived a half hour early, but they were happy to show us our room. Our host spoke mostly German, but we were able to communicate. The apartment is nice, clean and quiet. We laid down for a couple of hour nap. I was afraid I would wake up feeling worse than before and disoriented, but I woke up feeling ready to go.

One minor complication of our trip was that we had a limited data plan for our phones while were there, and we didn't want to always be looking up websites on our phones, so we would look things up using the free wifi in our AirBNBs and then go out and not use our internet, so if the restaurant wasn't there anymore or was unexpectedly closed, we had to come up with a new plan without having all the information we would have liked to have.

We went looking for food. The restaurant wasn't there. We drove back to another restaurant we saw on the way and arrived 20 minutes before closing. Another party arrived after us, so I didn't feel so bad. I mostly spoke German with the waitress, but they gave us a menu in English. It was Mediterranean food. It turns out it was Italian food. I hadn't even thought about the fact that Italy was on the Mediterranean until I ate that meal. It was fine, just not what I expected. We brought the leftovers home for breakfast. Before we left, they gave us each a shot of a licorice liqueur.

After this we looked up how much to tip and realized that we tipped too much. Wait staff are well compensated already, so usually one just rounds up when paying the bill. Also, you have to ask for the bill. They will never give it to you if you don't ask.

We tried calling our boy but he was napping. We went to sleep tired and relieved to be starting our trip.

May 2, 2015

Gospel: John 15:1-8
1st Reading: Acts 8:26-40
2nd Reading: 1 John 4:7-21

Last master gardener story for 14 weeks! This is my last Sunday before I leave for my sabbatical. A few weeks ago I took my Master Gardener Final Exam. Here was one of the questions: Which are the following are noxious weeds. Listed there was English Ivy. They wrote this question because people commonly have this in their yards and may have questions about it. I have english ivy in my yard. Every year I cut it down from climbing my Douglas Fir and every year I cut it back from spreading into my lawn. This year I am pulling it out. It is A vine, but not the true vine. The Kingdom of God has been compared to a noxious weed before—a mustard plant, a mustard seed. The Kingdom has some potential of growing out of control, like a noxious weed, and it grows big enough to shelter the birds, an analogy perhaps of sheltering those who have nowhere else to go. But English Ivy chokes out other plants, and I can't imagine it would be a good analogy for the Kingdom of God.

But a vine is a good image. God is the vinegrower. God sees everything that is going on. God plants the vine. God tends it. God can see when it needs to be pruned back so that it will produce the best fruit. In class we learned a little about pruning. There are many kinds of pruning. Some removes dead pieces of the plant. Some provides air flow. Some shapes the plant. Some improves productivity. Some removes disease. The best kind of pruning is different for each kind of plant. I've been afraid of pruning in the past, because I didn't know what I was doing. Now I know what a difference pruning makes, I have already started working on pruning the plants in my own yard and the azaleas here in the churchyard. Pruning may be a little intimidating, but plants are very forgiving, especially established plants like we have here at church, and the dangers of not pruning far outweigh the potential problems of pruning.

God is the vinegrower. God plants. God watches the life cycle of the plant and of the seasons. God has a vision for the health of the plant and for the whole garden. Maybe it sounds violent. It is about making sure the whole plant is healthy. We all have cuts in our lives. We've all been wounded before. We've all learned from those wounds. We've all grown after being pruned.

Their are protests going on in Baltimore. Parts of the plant have not got the tending and sunlight they needed. They have withered because other parts took more than their share. They will not just lay down and die. They are so frustrated that they are making their voices heard. Many of them are protesting peacefully. A few are causing damage to property and people in trying to be heard. Perhaps this is a pruning for our nation, to help remind us of those we forget and try to make this a more just place.

The people of Nepal are feeling pruned after the devastating earthquake last weekend. Lutheran World Relief was one of the first to respond, since we already have partners in affected communities. God has not left them alone, but is with them in their grief and loss, with us in our response, and shaping our relationships to be stronger and more prepared in the future.

The theme of our Synod Assembly was about pruning and the the root, the fruit, and the scar. Many analogies were drawn from the analogy of an apple orchard. The root stock determines the size of the tree. These days we like to grow shorter trees, so we can reach more of the fruit with less labor costs, ie. Less climbing up and down ladders. Therefore we use root stock that is smaller, so our trees don't get so big. Perhaps in our churches, too, we are not growing big sprawling trees, as we did in the past. Now we are more efficient, although smaller. We are also growing different fruit than we used to. Fruit used to refer to the number of people in the pews. Maybe that isn't the best measure of discipleship. Maybe the fruit is how many people we are able to touch with the love of God—maybe it is how many people we serve. Or maybe it is how many people volunteer, come to be part of the work we do in the community.

Some of the most interesting parts of the Assembly Bible Encounter were about the scar. Many apple trees are now grafted onto other root stock. To graft, one cuts a certain place on a branch. One prunes and cuts a V shape down into the branch. Then a branch cut into a corresponding V shape is shoved in that wound. Some kind of dressing is applied and in two years the branch may be joined to the tree. A tree is wounded. Something new is attached in that place. The wound heals. Fruit grows—delicious fruit to feed the neighborhood and maybe even world. We don't like to think about scars very much, but we all have them. I have the one on my chin from playing church league softball, , the one between my eyebrows from my car accident, and several on my arms from cat scratches. I have some scars on the inside, too, from where I've been hurt. But the scar becomes the toughest part of the apple tree—the part that is least likely to break. It is our toughest part, too, tough skin, and an inner strength, too. Because of those scars, we get better at ministering to those who are going through something similar. We can be there for them because we know how much it hurts. But we also know it won't destroy us, and that the person who is hurting will come through. They may have some scars, but new life will come and fruit will grow again someday, and God is always present.

Jesus wasn't immune to pruning. All the branches get pruned in the Kingdom of God. The ones who aren't producing fruit and the ones that are, so that they can bear more. Jesus was pruned back pretty far. He was really sticking out there and it was the authorities who wanted to hack back that plant that was encouraging the fruit of empowerment of neglected people. They hacked him right back to the ground. But we have this wonderful image of the root of Jesse. There is this stump, and out of it is growing a righteous branch, Jesus. This shoot emerges, so bright green where there was only death. This means new life for all of us, because we are being adopted, grafted onto that tree of life.

Philip was pruned, too, in the first reading for this morning. He was growing in a particular direction. Then the angel started training him in another direction. He had his expectations of how the Kingdom of God works. One by one they were pruned away. He thought he would open the scriptures to the man from Ethiopia. Instead the inclusiveness of the scriptures were revealed to him. He though he knew what could prevent this man from becoming part of the community—the color of his skin, his language, his religion, the scars he bore on his body from becoming a Eunuch. Instead, Philip was shown how there are no barriers in Christ Jesus. Philip experienced a pruning in this reading. And he grew from it, because he was still attached to the true vine, Jesus.

Maybe we're getting pruned. God is putting us in a situation through our sabbatical that is a bit uncomfortable. We don't know what to expect. Maybe our expectations will be pruned. Maybe the way we look at things will be pruned. I hope they are. I am excited about the new growth that God promises to bring. It is very difficult for me to let go and remember that God is the true vine, not me. It is too much of a load to carry when I think it all rests on me. It is God who sustains us all and we are being reminded of that. But also, you are all strong branches and you abide in love, you abide in God and you support one another. Abide, remain, take care of each other, show up, worship together. Part of the story of King of Kings that I love occurs in your interims. A pastor leaves. People are upset. There are deep wounds. But you are stubborn. You aren't going to let this ruin this congregation. You aren't going to let the Synod Office shut you down. You aren't going to sit around and feel sorry for yourselves. You get to work. I expect nothing less, this time. Be stubborn. Show up. Open yourself to the learning and leadership that God is calling you to. Love fiercely. Abide!

The first vines I was ever aware of are the vines on which Tarzan swings. These thick ropes hang throughout the forest. They are strong enough to support even Tarzan. As vines, we don't exist for ourselves, but when we are strong and lush, we reach down to the forest floor and provide a way to climb for those who have fallen below or who wait in darkness and hunger. We provide fun and recreation for those who would like to soar through the jungle. We receive new life and love from God and we share it with anyone who reaches out to grasp God's love.

I am going away for a little while to be renewed. You are staying here to be renewed. We will be apart for a time. You were King of Kings congregation before I came here, you will continue to be while I am away, and you will be into the future, whatever happens. I do not make this congregation what it is. Jesus does. It is God that makes us one. It is love that makes us one. Abide in God. Abide in love. I will do the same. When we return in a few short months, we'll compare notes and see what we've learned, graft that into our tree and move forward with new life and new growth emerging from our scars.

April 19, 2015

Gospel: Luke 24:36b-48
1st Reading: Acts 3:12-19
2nd Reading: 1 John 3:1-7

What is your favorite book and why?

I've been reading “War and Peace.” I picked it up at the Goodwill Bins a few years ago. I like to read the classics. I didn't really think about how it would sound to people when I said that I was reading it. Sounds kind of snooty, doesn't it? I didn't really take that into consideration when I grabbed it. I just kind of thought that it is one of the greats. It is a bucket list kind of thing, I think. I'd hate to miss out on such a great work of literature just because it is long and people think I'm weird for reading it. I made it through “Moby Dick” a few years ago, and nothing could be as bad as that! At least “War and Peace” is interesting. I just have to keep a list of characters so I can keep track—250 pages and more than 80 characters—3 of them named Marya.

I love to read and I like to think that God does, too. Here we have reference in Acts to Jesus as “the Author of life.” It is the only time he's called that in the Bible. He is the author of one heck of a book, not that any of us would be able to read the whole thing. We've all got our chapter, a part of the book and we try to compare notes with others to see what they've got until we can get a more complete picture of who God is and who we are and what life is all about. Jesus is the author of a book spanning the entire universe, or universes as we've been saying in our creed lately. This book covers the past, the creation, the ancestors, the prophets and teachers. The book covers the present—who we are now, children of God and how to live in the present. And it covers something of the future—how to live in the unknown, what we can know about the future—that we are not alone.

In the book of Acts, Peter is explaining the story. He is weaving God's story with that of the Israelites. They were pretty familiar with the parts about the Exodus and being the chosen people. But now they see part of their chapter that they might be ashamed about. This is part of all our story—how God is right here in our midst and we miss it, we mock him, we reject him, we push him away. Peter doesn't tell the people that so they will feel bad about themselves, but to show the power and love of God. Even when we mess up, when we try to kill the author of life, God is able to take that and use it for good. This message reminds us though, that we are not the be-all, end-all of everything. Our intentions are usually for self-gain. We miss the whole point. We are prone to violence and aggression when we don't get our way. This reading causes us to do some self-examination, knowing that what we find won't be so pretty. But all is not lost. If we turn our eye toward the Author of life, then we will see what really matters, we will be able to find hope again.

The best stories are a series of close calls. Homer's Odyssey, the Book of Acts in the Bible, Star Wars, Harry Potter, War and Peace—they are all a series of close calls. They keep us interested. The story of the Israelites is a series of close calls—that Abraham, a childless man would become the father of nations, that the Israelites would escape the mighty Egyptian army, that the exiles would return after a generation in bondage, these are all close calls in which God rescues them. And we are invited into that story by adoption. That was the story of the ancestors of our Savior Jesus, and he welcomes us into that family, making that our story. In this story, we are the helpless, the lawless, the ignorant, the disbelieving.

But that isn't enough to stop God, thankfully. God comes to us in the midst of the greatest of these close calls—the one in which he dies and we think he's gone, but he is risen in the resurrection and comes to us who betrayed him and denied him—and he does the most unexpected thing of all—offers us peace. And because of that, a whole new future unfolds for us. We are looking at eternal life. Our story, now, goes on and on. It doesn't have an ending anymore, except that we will see God as he is and we will be like him. We will find transformation, complete life change, healing through Jesus, not because of anything we do, but because of his transforming love and how we want to participate in that reign of love and transformation of our whole world.

Many good stories have ghosts in them, and this morning we get the possibility of a ghost. It is Jesus, but he is risen and he is real. We know he is real because the Disciples can touch him. We get the chance to touch him, too, because we can touch those in whom he has promised to be present. We can reach out to people who are sick and homebound and we know that human touch brings healing. We can touch Jesus when we shake hands with an enemy or a stranger. We can touch Jesus when we receive Holy Communion, his body and blood right here with us for us to touch. And we know he is real because he eats with us. Just when we are most afraid, when we don't know what to say because we feel so guilty and ashamed for denying him in our lives, he breaks the tension--”Anybody have anything to eat around here!” Good ol' Jesus—always hungry! Always wanting to share a meal with us. So we—the ones who reject him, who are ignorant, who are lawless—are invited to eat with him. He invites us into relationship, into wholeness, and touches us and feeds us and treats us as his children, for that is what we are.

Easter 2015

1st Reading: Isaiah 25:1-10
2nd Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
Gospel: Mark 16:1-8

One of the most interesting parts of my Master Gardener Training has been about insects. They are just so interesting—their life cycles, their anatomy, their diet, and all they do for us. I met an entomologist about a year ago and I asked him if the extinction of bees will mean the extinction of humankind. He said more important than bees are all the insects that break down the soil. If we use too many pesticides or heat our planet too much, there may someday not be enough insects to break down all the organic matter in the soil to make vitamins available to plants. The leaves and cones and wood will simply sit there and pile up with nothing to break them down into soil.

Some of the most interesting insects go through a process called complete metamorphosis. An insect is fascinating, but to go from one form to a completely different form is incredible. Of course butterflies and moths go through complete metamorphosis, as well as bees, and many other insects. The egg hatches, a grub or caterpillar emerges, eventually it enters a cocoon or pupa state, and emerges completely changed from the way it was before, usually having wings and the ability to fly. The process has been studied and cocoons or chrysalises taken apart mid process, to find only goo. It seems the insect disintegrates and then reorganizes its cells into a whole new creature.

We often speak at Easter of the caterpillar and the butterfly. Jesus walked this earth as a common caterpillar. He died and went into the tomb, which is represented by the cocoon. Three days later, he emerged with new life for us all. He was no longer a common caterpillar after he rose, but was able to move through doors and walls. He was a butterfly. He gave us all the Holy Spirit and his epace and the ability to spread our wings and fly.

Jesus is the forerunner—he went through it first. Now he invites us to die with him, to go through death to new life, enter the cocoon and be born anew. We believe this happens in baptism—a symbolic drowning of the old self, entering the cocoon of the waters, and coming out of the waters reborn with eternal life. We are invited to continue this process, our whole life long, shedding the former and taking on new life.

Here are some examples in everyday life of death and resurrection, of complete metamorphosis.

We all know people who have experienced intense loss and grief. Some of us are those people. In time, peace comes. The grief circles back at times, but the intensity changes and eventually eases bit by bit. I am reminded of my former boss from National Frozen Foods. She and her husband both retired. They had all kinds of plans to travel and garden and enjoy their retirement. Then her husband suddenly died. I was not one of the people who walked with her on her journey of grief, I had moved away to go to seminary, but after 50 years of marriage it must have been a very difficult road. A few years later she contacted me to ask me to officiate at her wedding. The first wedding I ever did was for this couple who got a second chance at love after their spouses both passed away. On September 11, 2001, both of them, bewildered by world events, showed up at their local fire station to volunteer. There they met and eventually came to love each other and commit their lives to each other. It has been more than 15 years, now, that they have traveled together, been embraced by one another's families, and enjoyed each other's company. Christ is risen, and so are we, born into new life after a very dark time of disorientation and reorganization.

My friend Leo is transgender. We've been friends since high school when we were both exploring entering the ministry. He first became aware he was transgender about two years ago. I have to admit that sometimes I can't easily wrap my mind around the transformation that has taken place. The Leo I know now, in some ways resembles the person I once knew. But in some ways is completely different. I am slowly coming to realize that this metamorphosis that is taking place doesn't depend on my making sense of it. This is something that God is doing in Leo and I have to admit that he is more like a butterfly than before. He is becoming who God made him to be and that is a beautiful thing. Christ died and is risen. Leo has gone through a death and rebirth, even with a new name and blessing from his congregation. Now he can live more authentically, he can be free to be himself. This is truly new life. Christ is Risen! Christ is risen indeed!

Finally, I see my sabbatical as kind of a death and resurrection. We've had fun and learned and grown in the caterpillar stage. We've done some important ministry, important tasks together. But soon we will enter a chrysalis. We won't see each other for a little while. During that time a lot will be happening. We will be, in some ways deconstructed, as the avenues of communication we once used will shut down, as the expectations we had will change. And we will be reconstructed as we form new relationships, as leadership grows and each of you steps in to take on the work of this place, and as self-awareness and confidence grows in all of us. I truly believe that when we emerge from this sabbatical cocoon, we will soar with wings of beauty and strength. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

The women at the tomb, encounter the empty chrysalis. They were going there, expecting to anoint and mourn a beloved friend of theirs. The fact that it is empty bewilders them. They are stunned. This starts them on their process of entering the cocoon. For now, they are fearful. They aren't able to say anything to anyone. They close in themselves. Everything they have ever understood, they are questioning. They feel they are disintegrating. But the next few weeks will bring a reorganization, as they and the Disciples start to encounter the risen Christ and as they all puzzle about what this means for them. At some point we know they will emerge and tell their story. We know this because how else does this story come to us, today? These women at the tomb may be afraid now, but soon they will soar on wings of beauty and the Good News will be evident in everything they do and say. They will embody that good news that brought about their own transformation and new life.

Some new discoveries have been made about caterpillars. They have within them tiny beginnings of wings and butterfly body parts. If you take apart a chrysalis, you can observe with a microscope the organs of the creature are still intact. There is something of the original creature in the transformed insect and there is something that remains that is born with the caterpillar or grub. In each of us, also, there is something Holy from the beginning and persisting, something that lasts. Call this the Christ Spirit. It is the spirit of God within each one of us, something beautiful and good and pure, the image of God in each of us. Maybe we too are born with something of what we will be already there. Made in God's image, we all have the Divine Spark, the love of God that will someday give us wings and the courage to open them in the breeze so that we can soar the way God intended, so that someday we will naturally live the way God intended at peace with one another and all Creation.

Some people are disturbed by the ending of this Gospel: “they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” I love cliffhangers. I love movies with ambiguous endings. They keep me thinking about what might have happened next. More disturbing to me are stories and films in which all the pieces are tied up in a neat bow at the end. This is not how I have experienced life. I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing in my life is neat and tidy. Those who have seen my office are nodding their heads. Childhood is a messy, experience which is never tied up neatly. Marriage is a big complicated mess. Being in a congregation is very messy and open-ended. And this Gospel is messy and open-ended, just like life.

This morning, I invite you to let the story sit with you. Let yourselves wonder what happened next, how this story got from this point that we read here with the women afraid and silent, to us knowing and telling and still trying to puzzle what the empty tomb means today in all our messy and puzzling lives. Easter isn't all pastel colors and baby chicks. It is a gaping tomb and the questions and the difficulties and life and death we all experience all the time. Easter meets us right where we are and takes us places we never expected, transforms us into something we could never have imagined, someone free and loved and truly alive and connected. Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Maundy Thursday 2015

I have been struck in recent years by the artwork of Harry Hargreaves, an artist from New Zealand who photographs the last meals of those who are on death row in his "No Seconds" series He says that his main goal is "to have the viewer identify with the prisoner though their meal request. I wanted the viewer to think of them as a person for a moment instead of them being anonymous."

Some of the meals that struck me were a bowl of ice cream, someone else had a bucket of KFC, another was from Texas where they stopped providing special last meals so he just ate what everyone else ate, chicken legs, mixed vegetables, and some soup and tea. Another plate had only a single olive on it. Other plates were empty, for those who had refused a last meal at all. And at least one prisoner ordered a very large and expensive meal and then refused to eat it—one final act of defiance.

Historians disagree on when last meals became standard among countries with the death penalty. Some believe that the tradition may have started back in ancient Greece and Rome. In some ancient accounts, the prisoner would share a meal with the executioner. Was this about reconciliation? Is it to give a picture of a more humane government authority? Why feed someone who is about to die? It doesn't make sense.

These meals are more than nutrition. They all say something different about the person eating them. Some of them are about reliving memories of more comfortable and pleasant times. Others seem to be making a statement about wealth or status. Still others are forms of protest, like those empty plates. They also all say, this is a human being, someone who ate and drank. This was someone's daughter or son, someone who enjoyed certain things, who brought people joy and brought them pain, someone who was born and will die.

There are many last meals in our lives. When I read the story of the passover, I think of meals I've eaten in haste, the car packed, our minds already on the journey. I remember a lunch I threw together a few years ago when my dad called in crisis. We ate this simple meal as we drove to this family emergency, solemnly on our way to go be with him in that terrible pain. I remember nursing my child for the last time, with mixed feelings, knowing I would be more free to be away from him, but also appreciating the connection that we shared and knowing more what it meant to fully nurture another human being. I remember meals with people I love who are no longer living, the warmth and laughter. And I remember meals where someone stomped off in a huff, where someone was offended. Before our son was born, we usually ate in front of the television. It was always something we vowed to changed, but never managed it until circumstances really forced us to do something different. Our child is still too young to tell us much about his day, but mealtime has become a time in which we talk about where our food came from and how and who prepared it, and to be nurtured with laughter and song. It is a time of deep connection and joy. It is a time of rejoicing and appreciation.

What does the last supper of the Israelites before they head out on their exodus say about them and what does Jesus' last meal say to us about who he is and who we are? Of course I think it says something different to us each time we consume this meal. Tonight and every Sunday when we celebrate the Lord's Supper we not only eat the last meal that Jesus ate before his execution, but we hear the words and remember what was most important to him. We seldom think of it according to its nutritional content, but instead we look at it a time of community, of unity with Jesus, hearing his words, receiving his promises, receiving God's grace, being forgiven, empowered, and filled so that we can try to share God's grace with friends and strangers during the coming week.

Communion is a time of eating with Jesus. It transcends time and space so that we hear the words he spoke that night. We eat the food he ate that night. That table at which we eat extends and becomes the communion table for all who share this feast, in all times and places, past, present, and future. We give thanks for the food we eat. We hope communion makes us all aware of the stuff of life that we need to keep going, both spiritually and physically. We give thanks for the fertility of the earth and all those who make it possible for us to eat, farmers and harvesters, those who grind grain, those who pick grapes. We share what is most basic in life. Communion is not sharing the most fancy food, but the basics of life, bread and drink. Every culture has these foods. They are inexpensive and available to all. We share what we have with others. Communion is about having enough for everyone, not gorging ourselves. A little bit goes a long way. We remember what Jesus taught us, especially about loving one another. We remember who he ate with—tax collectors and sinners, prostitutes and children and Pharisees. We come because we are all invited, not because we have done right or believed right. And we all stand in God's presence and receive God's presence. And even better that we join together, our two churches in communion and hand washing. It is so easy to see the same faces week after week and worship in our own special space, but now we truly do what Jesus wanted us to do, he wanted us to eat on the run, like the Israelites, to get out of our comfortable space so that we would see each other, so that we would see Jesus, so that we would experience a little bit of death ourselves, in letting go and starting over.

For the Israelites, the last meal, was not the last meal of course. They would never again eat in Egypt, and oh did they miss that food. But they had something better out there in the Exodus on their journey—they knew God's presence with them, they knew how to share, they learned a lot about themselves. Jesus last supper was not his last meal either. Once he rose from the dead, he ate some fish on the shore and shared some food with the Disciples. And we know that he promises a great feast when we are all gathered with him. Tonight, think of this as your last meal. When you wake Easter morning, and every morning you are a new creation, full of new possibilities. Now that you have been fed with this holy food, God's new life is coming to life in you. Go and live that life so that it spreads to others. Go and live God's love,. In this meal and community and neighborhood, be challenged, be willing to let go, and be raised to live once more in God's grace and love.