Palm/Passion Sunday...the drama unfolds

Once again we approach Palm/Passion Sunday and a liturgy filled with disparate components. We will wave palm branches and lift our voices in praise of Jesus "to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring." Later we will begin to recall Jesus' passion, a story too graphic for children that draws us into realities that render adults silent. At  Sunday's eleven o'clock service, we will commence with "Open Now Thy Gates of Beauty" and close with "Were You There?" Why? Why include Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday in a single liturgy? Why not wave palm branches all morning and enter Holy Week with "Hosanna!" on our lips and hearts? Why enter the darkness while the light still shines brightly?

Practically speaking, few of us attend Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil services. Unless we link Passion Sunday with Palm Sunday, the majority moves from "Hosanna!" to "He is risen!" without glimpsing into the valley of the shadow and the dark hill that separates them. That diminishes the message of the season of Easter.

Pastoral and theological realities also come into play. The movement from "Hosanna!" to "Crucify him!" happens frequently. Our favor often flees in the face of intense opposition. We do not set out to fail or to forsake, but when the ground shifts we realize that we have not laid a good foundation or made the effort necessary for deep commitment. Palm/Passion Sunday helps us to identify places where the dreams and hopes that most powerfully call us need more of us. Otherwise they fade into illusion.

Movement from light to darkness characterizes our journeys. Without warning evil struts into our lives. Accidents, illnesses, and diseases change everything in a heartbeat. Palm/Passion Sunday helps us to recognize our need for a God whose power and presence remain steadfast "though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea" (Psalm 46:2).

The same lips that rise in praise also snarl in derision. The same hands that stretch to include also clench to keep others at bay. The same eyes that comfort with kindness also glare with rejection. Unlike God, we are not steadfast. Palm/Passion Sunday challenges us to form ties with God and others healthy enough to endure our worst as well as our best.

Palm/Passion Sunday unfolds with drama. The crowds that praise also condemn. The followers who gather near also betray, abandon, and deny. Those capable of mercy choose not to show compassion. The drama unfolds not so that we can simply behold it, but so we can enter it and deepen our awareness that we are creatures of both dark and light. That awareness calls for confession, conviction, and hope: confession of our true identity as persons and as community; conviction to have light prevail over darkness; and hope that God will lead us through the valley, past the hill, and into paths made new.

Complete the Lenten journey and use this week to prepare for the season of Easter. Anyone with eyes can enjoy flowers swaying in sunlit breezes. Those aware of the cold and darkness they endured add awe that makes the joy complete.

Lenten Blessings,

LP

Make a joyful noise!

One of the blessings of spring is the melody of songbirds. The male birds sing to attract females, but singing is also good for them. When male songbirds serenade females, that activates the pleasure center in the male's brain. Surprisingly, that does not happen when a songbird sings alone. Perhaps it is melodic pride or something to do with competition, but the benefit to the brain only occurs when the male sings in the presence of other birds.

A similar thing happens when human beings sing together, but for us the benefit extends to males and females. When we sing, our brain releases endorphins, the chemicals that help us to feel positive and happy. Karaoke singing has proliferated not only because we enjoy watching each other make fools of ourselves, but also because of its psychological benefit. We derive the greatest psychological benefit from singing, however, when we sing in a group, especially a chorus or choir. Studies have shown that nursing home residents who participated in a singing program for a month experienced decreased anxiety and depression. Those involved in choral groups expressed greater satisfaction with their lives, even when facing significant challenges.

Some suggest that the endorphins flow more freely for choral singers because singing requires us to breathe more deeply, which sends more oxygen into our bodies. Our brains like that. Others note that directing our attention to learning or relearning a piece of music and to blending well with other singers takes our minds off our troubles. The older we are, the more that helps to keep sadness and depression at bay. When we sing together we connect with each other; that feeling of community decreases isolation and loneliness. Yes, we can prompt endorphins through other activities, but studies suggest that singing in a group offers the greatest benefit.

We could all rush in and ask to join our chancel choir. I'd like to watch Raymund respond to that! While I'm confident that our choirs could use additional singers, joining them will not work for everyone. We could, however, promise to sing in our upcoming summer choirs for a month or the entire summer. That offers significant endorphin production with minimal investment of time.

Or we could simply commit ourselves to signing more exuberantly for the rest of Lent and through the season of Easter. The positive effect could lead to a healthy habit. We sing more readily in a group that sings enthusiastically. I rarely enjoy presbytery meetings, but usually find the worship services uplifting because of the robust singing. Most teaching elders enjoy singing and that evidently applies to ruling elders as well. Perhaps that results from our awareness that while we sing together we can't argue!

Exuberant singing helps to form community. We all find it easier to raise our voices less timidly when surrounded by people singing boldly. Yes, exuberant singers sometimes begin too soon or hit the wrong note. When we simply laugh it off, that reminder of our humanness links us more fully together. After all, congregational song is an act of worship, not a competition. Those of us who consider ourselves poor singers find the courage to give it a try more readily when we have confidence that other voices will carry the tune.

Nothing will stop the songbirds from filling the air with melody. We now know that they do something good for themselves while they delight us. Why not enjoy that same benefit? How often do we discover that something we enjoy is actually good for us? Perhaps that is why so many psalms mention song and one begins, "O come, let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation!" (Psalm 95:1).

Sing boldly, church!

LP

Community comes in many forms and varied places...

We observe St. Patrick's Day this weekend; but snakes will appear in my messages on Saturday and Sunday and I've yet to find a gluten-free green beer, so, as usual, I'll tease out what has wandered into my mind this Wednesday morning. Like most pastors, I spend considerable time in hospital waiting rooms. Comforting, or at least accompanying, our saints provides many opportunities for people watching. Although not everyone is friendly, especially when under stress, people gathered out of concern for others regularly reveal some of the best of human nature.

Recently I sat in a waiting room for a long, long time, waiting for word about a saint undergoing surgery. As minutes turned to hours, it dawned on us all that no one in the room had heard anything about our loved ones for quite some time. We began checking in with each other: asking who had received news, offering encouraging words, and wondering together why none of us had heard anything. Eventually, we took our question to the volunteer at the desk, who made a call and learned that people injured in a serious motorcycle accident had arrived unexpectedly and required the use of all the operating rooms. Some of us kindly, and others of us more forcefully, suggested that someone should have informed us. In addition to feeling angry about being kept in the dark, I marveled at how we had become a community. Our private concerns now belonged to us all.

That same waiting room also serviced people having less serious outpatient procedures. One patient had recently given birth to twins. Her mother accompanied her to watch the twins while she was with the medical staff. The twins, of course, awoke and filled the room with the sounds of their hunger and other needs. Almost immediately helpers came from all directions with assistance. Yes, babies are beautiful and usually attract a crowd; but each person in the waiting room had someone else on her or his mind. Nevertheless, in short order the twins' needs were met, most of us had learned their names, and a proud but weary grandmother received the support of a surrogate family.

A young, timid woman sat in a corner alone while her husband underwent major surgery. The longer she waited, the more anxious she became. One by one a number of others sat beside her to offer words of comfort, encouragement, and prayer. She may have sat alone, but community surrounded her.

Folks sitting in a waiting room are vulnerable. Not everyone is friendly or gracious, but vulnerability makes room for meaningful human (and divine) contact. When we feel no need, we typically derive little benefit. When we stand apart, we usually stand alone. When we unnecessarily make others keep their distance, even God struggles to draw near.

Life is short, and there is precious little time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. Every act of love and kindness creates community and draws us closer into the embrace of the One from whom all good things flow. Thanks be to God.

Lenten Blessings,

LP

Why do you pray?

Why do you pray? People often ask that question as they or people important to them, explore or question new understandings of God. When gathered together and when alone, people of faith spend a lot of time praying. Why? What do we seek and/or expect and what are we doing? I spend time daily in personal or private prayer for two primary reasons.

First, I pray in order to receive the embrace of God. We always live and move in God, but are not always aware of God. In prayer, silence, scripture, and varied devotional aids and practices help me to be still and received into God. I hope that doing that intentionally at specific times will help me to do it more often amidst the warp and woof of daily living. Such prayer is its own reward. Even without profound feelings or experiences, the time apart refreshes the soul. Two favorite quotations address this aim of prayer. One comes from Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel: "Of all things we do prayer is the least expedient, the least worldly, the least practical. This is why prayer is an act of self-purification. This is why prayer is an ontological necessity." The other comes from George Arthur Buttrick: "Jesus, praying all night on his lonely mountain, did not claim to have found the Purpose. He made a vaster claim -- that the Sovereign Purpose had found him." I pray to be found by God, in whom my being resides.

Second, I pray in order to connect with others. I do not always know how to be a good husband, father, grandfather, pastor, friend, etc. Uplifting people and situations dear and/or important to me deepens my awareness of who, what and how I have the call and the capacity to be. I believe that God, who is present in all relationships, guides and girds that. Sometimes I feel inadequate or helpless. Prayer provides something positive to do while seeking guidance on other actions to take. Several studies indicate that others can benefit from our prayers on their behalf. That deepens hope. Sometimes I forget my blessings. Prayer for those around me awakens and deepens gratitude. Here again I have two favorite quotations. Pierre-François de Bethune muses: "Prayer is ... the shortest route between two people. When two people pray, God is not a third: God is the First, welcoming the one and the other." John Calvin points to such prayers with a prayer of his own: "Save us, Lord, from being self-centered in our prayers, and teach us to remember to pray for others. May we be so caught up in love for those for whom we pray, that we may feel their needs as keenly as our own, and pray for them with imagination, sensitivity, and knowledge. We ask this in Christ's name..."

Why do you pray? That's a good question to ponder on our Lenten journey, and an even better response to put into action.

Grace and Peace,

LP

What makes a statement or opinion political?

What makes a statement or opinion political? If an elected official or candidate for public office takes a position on an issue, does that render all subsequent statements about that issue political? If so, should we avoid discussing that issue in "polite company"?

I consider all important statements and opinions political and religious. Politics refers to the ways we govern ourselves and religion refers to our deeply held beliefs. I rejoice that the First Amendment to our Constitution "prohibits the making of any law respecting an establishment of religion" and firmly believe in the separation of church and state. Yet, I do not deem it possible to separate how best to govern ourselves from our convictions about how and why we have life. Abraham Lincoln stated the challenge clearly when he advised not questioning whether God is on our side but rather asking whether we are on God's side. Lincoln had many reservations about faith, but seems to have conducted his life and presidency in keen awareness of "the Almighty."

Not all political figures are religious, but all religious folks are political. When South African authorities imprisoned Allan Boesak for his resistance to apartheid, they allowed him to have one book in his cell, a Bible. Boesak laughed and declared that they gave him the most dangerous book of all. In scripture he found not only strength for the struggle but also images and messages to use in the struggle.

The Bible is a political document. Deuteronomy demands that the faithful make provision to feed the hungry and the alien. Exodus tells a formative story about the flight of Hebrew slaves from the Pharaoh's bonds to freedom. The Lord's Prayer petitions, "thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." In Acts, Peter declares that God shows no partiality in extending the offer of salvation. Amos calls for a society characterized by justice. Micah offers a vision for national security. All those and myriad other passages and stories are unquestionably political, i.e. they seek to guide and affect how we govern ourselves. I have no desire to establish a theocracy in the United States, but what we believe about God and about why we have life affects our politics. Our beliefs and how we want to apply them to governance vary, but our religion and our politics remain intertwined.

So what? I do not believe that any religious leader, including me, has the right to tell the faith community for whom to vote. Yet, I firmly believe that all religious leaders have a responsibility to raise issues related to how our faith intersects and collides with how we live. The best venues for raising such issues are those where the faithful can respond, make objections, ask questions, and engage in dialogue. Presbyterians in particular believe that we discern the guidance of God most clearly when genuinely engaged with each other.

I have long been and probably will long remain a political person. When I stray into partisan politics in ways that undermine my credibility and ability to function pastorally, I trust the community and God to call me to accountability. Not being political and not making political statements are not options. Among other things, I would have to put down my Bible. God and the community willing, that won't happen for a while yet.

Grace and Peace,

LP