Birdsong and Belief

A Sermon for Easter 2. Lectionary readings here. 

Since the weather has gotten warmer, I have been sleeping with the window open, and I love hearing the birds singing just as I am waking up. But sometimes they actually do wake me up! Like the other night, when I heard what I was pretty sure was an owl loudly who-who-hooting before the sun came up. I got so excited I couldn't get back to sleep. I had to find out which kind of owl it was. Turns out it was a great horned owl, according to the recording on the Audubon Society website. The next morning, there was this little fella who showed up just as I was ending my yoga practice on the deck. I typically try to end my practice with a little silent meditation, but this guy in the tree next to our deck just wouldn’t have it: 

Just listen to this song! There is so much variation - forgive my anthropomorphism, but there’s so much unabashed joy. As if right on cue for the Easter Season!

Welcome to Eastertide – 50 days following Easter, where it’s not just this sermon that’s a little different. We might think about getting a little used to different,” to quote a blurb from the hit TV series, The Chosen. It is during the season of Easter that we might get reacquainted with Jesus in some fresh new ways. Thomas can help us with that.

Thomas shows up each year on this 2^nd Sunday of Easter. Like the bird, he too shows up right on cue with questions, which garner him his now-famous moniker. The so-called "doubting Thomas" also does us a great favor. Thomas gives us permission to seek more information, to go deeper, to ask questions. I appreciate him for that. 

Easter morning, I noticed the baptismal font was empty after the stripping of the altar and sanctuary on Good Friday… Fr. Chris asked me to take care of it. I heard him say, “There’s a bowl on the sacristy counter, fill it up, put it in the font, then bless the water.” “I got this,” I thought. A little later, right before the service, I noticed someone from the altar guild quickly scooping out all the water. It became suddenly apparent to me that the glass bowl simply slides right into the font, water and all. Font fill fail. After a busy Holy Week, my inner dialogue could have quickly devolved from “how stupid” to “I’m stupid” to “I’m a terrible curate.” I could have easily jumped on the shame train. Mistakes happen and, God knows, we can be our own worst critics.

I’ll bet some of the disciples could relate. They listened to Jesus, but didn’t yet have ears to comprehend the full meaning of the Kingdom Jesus came to introduce. Like me, the disciples were works in progress. Jesus may have given his disciples good-natured nicknames, but he didn’t label them. Labeling them as failures would not be of service to the cross. Labels become stereotypes, which can turn into all manner of isms. They’re not productive. Jesus doesn't label Thomas when he asks for more information. When Peter cuts off a man's ear, Jesus doesn't shame him. He quickly reminds Peter of his commitment to non-violent resistance and heals the poor man’s ear (John 18:10-11). Peter, the rock, would put his gifts to good use in new ways to build up the Church. That’s the power of the cross and resurrection. That’s why we praise God on Easter morning. There’s simply no time for shame.

“My Lord and My God!” (John 20:28). In what feels like an amazing grace moment, Thomas expresses words of sheer praise and adoration as he finally gets the whole crux of the cross and resurrection. 

That little bird I shared with you gets it. 

When I first read Psalm 150, I initially thought it to be an odd pairing with the Thomas story, but as I meditated on it, when the bird would let me, the more I saw the connection. I should say, I heard the connection. Psalm 150 is the very last Psalm, and it’s a supreme song of praise for the God of all Creation. It’s fantastic! Whoever organized these poems for us knew what they were doing. What a way to end the Psalms! And whoever pairs the readings in our lectionary has also given us a great gift.

In this first week after resurrection, like Thomas and the others, we may show up here with our very honest, very human doubts and questions. A week later, like the disciples in that upper room, we may show up a little dazed and confused, wondering what went wrong and if we could have done something differently, wondering what’s next. 

What can possibly follow resurrection? 

Only to praise the Lord of the Universe who gives us life and breath, and stars and seas, and the beauty of holiness, and birds and babies, the love of family and friends…We show up this week with our fears and doubts to praise God anyway with all our hearts and minds and souls, with tambourine and dance, strings and pipe, and loud clashing cymbals—all the sounds. 

Psalm 150 is a perfect response to the absurdity of resurrection. In his sermon last week, Father Chris called it God’s greatest joke on death and despair. Christ has risen! Love gets the last word! What better, more iconic and ironic response than to praise, even amidst trauma and terror, and any current seemingly insurmountable problems. God, the fountain of life and source of all goodness, who made all things and fills them (correctly) with blessing; God who created all that breathes to rejoice in the splendor of God’s radiance. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.

That little bird gets it. If you’re still not feeling it, there’s this:

According to several sources, including Conservation Mag, listening regularly to birdsong can reduce anxiety and enhance and improve our mental health. These same experts suggest we aim for 120 minutes a week in nature for maximum benefit. 

Apparently, more people than ever are out in nature with binoculars and those ridiculously long camera lenses. Experts say we can attract more birds by installing bird feeders and bird baths. New apps can help us decipher which bird species we are hearing sing their lovely songs. Turns out my little guy is a mockingbird. I really don’t think his name does him justice. 

Without eyes to see or ears to hear, Chat GPT weighs in about the mockingbird’s “impressive ability to mimic the songs of other birds.” Takes one to know one, Chat GPT.

We might take a lesson from that little bird who doesn’t give a flying fig what people or artificial intelligence call him. There’s no time for that. Instead, he warbles out songs of audacious praise: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia! Christ is Risen, that all may come to know and believe in the praiseworthy power of God’s unpredictable, incomprehensible love.

If we do this, I wonder if, in fifty or so days, things will feel different. 

As we journey together through this upcoming Easter season, like Thomas and the others, we can expect to encounter Christ in new ways. As we meditate with a posture of openness, praise, and thanksgiving, we might reflect on God’s mercy, love, and faithfulness. Just as he breathed his spirit into those very human, very imperfect disciples, so God breathes in us, the new and always improving Body of Christ, each of us loved and called to be God’s ears and eyes, hearts, hands, and feet in the world. 

Speaking of Green...

I like the way this handmade Easter card from my friend Nancy looks beside my new basil plant. I read on the internet (so we know it must be true!) that basil grew near the cross where Jesus was crucified. 

I decided to go to a nursery on Earth Day. It was so nice outside - such a beautiful day to visit a nursery. There was so much new life. It felt like resurrection. 

As we move into the Easter Season of our Christian calendar, we have fifty days to contemplate resurrection, fifty days to perhaps get to know the resurrected Jesus in some fresh new ways. Each story we hear during this time offers something new to consider.

With my new holy basil, I decided to make something I had never made before: a pesto with lemon, walnuts, garlic, spinach, parmesan, olive oil, and basil that I tossed together with some angel hair pasta. I also sautéed some spring onions and added some fresh asparagus and frozen peas. It was a lovely, light, and refreshing dinner for a lovely Spring evening. The fresh basil added so much. What fresh, new perspectives about God have arisen for you this week? 

15 Things I Learned as a (Green) Priest This Holy Week

 

1. Change potentially inflammatory, antisemitic-sounding liturgy. Explain the change in advance, making it a teaching opportunity.

2. Blessing of the palms happens somewhere outside the church. 

3. Holy week liturgies are nothing to be afraid of. They are totally doable and somewhat customizable.

4. Pace is important. Getting bulletins started early is crucial for office administrators’ sanity and for catching mistakes early. 

5. Sometimes it’s okay to do the same thing as last year. People will love the familiarity. That’s why some come once or twice a year – to hear familiar music and liturgy. Give it to them.

6. We may entice folks to come a little more often with our riveting sermons and generous hospitality. 

7. Don’t forget to promote the Triduum. Many will still not come, but some may only need to hear it is being offered.

8. Agape meals are cool. Maundy Thursday is someone’s favorite holy day. Remember this and give them the experience they need. Foot washing is not for everyone. Essential oils can be a nice touch, but don’t assume everyone wants them. Thank your volunteers.

9. Good Friday is a beautiful, holy night, but more engagement helps people feel and engage with the story. Get people involved. Invite new voices to chant the liturgy.

10. The Easter Vigil is beautiful too. Epsom salts and high-test rubbing alcohol make a lovely smokeless flame. Consult YouTube for directions. If starting the flame outside, remember that wind happens. Candles go out. Encourage more people to participate in the service. Some people love to chant the Exultet. Do not take it away from them. Hair can and does catch on fire. Have a plan for if it does. Descending darkness may necessitate reading lights. Homilies can be powerful sermons, too. 

11. Tensions may be heightened at this time. Take care of your body. Eat well and get as much rest as possible. 

12. Meet and greet and tend to the new people. Invite them to communion. 

13. Miscommunication can easily happen when there’s so much going on. Make sure everyone is on the same page. Don’t assume. Ask questions, but don’t be annoying. 

14. Never dismiss a child's contribution during the Easter children's sermon. Sometimes their words are more prophetic than we might initially realize. 

15. Thank your altar guild.

 

 

This is the Night

This is the night... 

Ever notice how frequently nighttime shows up in scripture? Think about it. It was in the darkness that God saw light was good and separated the day from night. It was nighttime when God told Abraham to look up at the stars and count his future family members. It was nighttime when Jacob wrestled with the angel, who turns out to be God. God parts the Red Sea at night. God also sends manna in the wilderness…at night. And the Magi follow the star that leads them to Bethlehem at night. But nothing can compare to this night.

This night - this is it - the night everything changes. As the women, the Marys, arrive at the empty tomb while it is still dark, they encounter a dazzling light – an angel who tells them Jesus has risen. I imagine their shock, their fear, their excitement, their minds flooded with memories: the raising of the girl, the healings, Jesus feeding all those people, his exorcisms, how he walked on water and calmed the sea, the way they were told his face and clothing shone on the mountain. 

Even with all that compelling evidence, even with the light-filled angelic being and Jesus in his own glorified light body, they still don’t know what to make of all that has happened. Let’s be real, resurrection is more than most human minds can even begin to fathom.

In our scientifically and technologically savvy, post-enlightenment world, we simply do not know what to do with unexplainable phenomena. We want logic and data, but especially after Covid, we just don’t seem to trust science the way we used to. Today, we’re more skeptical than ever of miracles. And yet, seemingly miraculous events still occur.

This is perhaps most prevalent in medicine, where inexplicable patient outcomes are often vaguely attributed to such explanations as “reasons yet to be discovered.” A 2023 NIH study explored occurrences of extraordinary medical events in pediatric medicine. One of the most provocative stories from this research is that of Sam, an eleven-month-old baby boy with a grapefruit-sized mass in his belly. Complications from surgery result in the need for a multi-organ transplant; without it, doctors give Sam less than 24 hours to live. His parents prepare for the worst. Remarkably, baby Sam holds on. For eight more weeks! He survives multiple potentially deadly complications. Doctors can’t explain the remarkable resilience of this kid. For his family, every additional day with Sam is a joy and a miracle. Then, right before Christmas – there is a donor! Sam receives five new organs. To everyone’s astonishment, he recovers, and quickly! No one in the medical community can come up with a logical explanation for Sam’s extraordinarily successful recovery. 

Meanwhile, Sam’s family and church community have been praying. Hard.

One promising outcome of this study reveals the importance of respecting the diverse faith traditions of patients and families. Another, to my surprise, is a caution against expressions of rational hubris, that is, doctors who place too much certainty on purely scientific explanations. Even so, consensus seems to be that although some profess to have witnessed what they would consider bona fide medical miracles, doctors generally should maintain a disposition of professional ambivalence about these things. The most prudent posture seems to be that “Sometimes, we simply do not know why someone lives or dies.” 

And sadly, for baby Sam to live, we’re all deeply aware that another child has died. 

Participants in this study suggest we look at life, death, and healing with a wider lens, noting the transformations that can occur at the end of life, for patients and those who accompany them. They reinforce the goal for doctors, as much as possible, to assist patients with “good and holy deaths,” by helping facilitate emotional and spiritual healing, through practices like prayer, forgiveness, and gratitude, while doing their best to alleviate physical pain and suffering.[1]  

The women in Matthew’s Gospel don’t need a research study to prove that inexplicable events at the darkest of times are transformative. Sure, there’s grief and disorientation at first. But, after the shock settles, there is a new perspective. Something miraculous has happened, and life (and death) will never be the same again.

How wonderful and beyond our knowing, says that gorgeous ancient prayer, the Exultet…

How blessed is this night, when earth and heaven are joined, and we are reconciled to God.

We can sense it, can’t we? Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. The mysterious, unlikely, inexplicable resurrection of Jesus Christ changes everything. Jesus’ good and holy death transforms the cross from a horrific symbol of violence to a symbol of redemption for us - God’s people - who, despite the darkness of our “apostasy and faithlessness, are somehow condemned to redemption.” That’s from Fleming Rutledge (and Shakespeare). Resurrection is the ultimate mystery, and the ultimate healing, for which there is no reasonable explanation, now, or yet to be discovered.[2] The only explanation is entirely unreasonable and unprovable. And that is love.

In the darkest streets of our cities, in wombs and tombs and hospital rooms, God comes and goes between the worlds as one of us. In the darkest times of our lives, God is there, sometimes hidden in the shadows. God the vulnerable, God the demonized, the marginalized, God the human, God the spirit, who so loves this world…who walks with us, stands with us, dies for us – and will do pretty much whatever it takes to get our attention…so that we may finally come to know and see and feel God’s inexplicable, miraculous, healing, redemptive love. 

To that, may we say, at long last, Alleluia!!! He is risen. Now go and tell the others.

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[1] Geraldine Huynh, Marghalara Rashid, and Jessica L. Foulds, “Miracles in Medicine: A Narrative Inquiry Exploring Extraordinary Events in Pediatrics,” Health Science Reports 6, no. 11 (November 8, 2023): e1623, https://doi.org/10.1002/hsr2.1623.

[2] Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids, Mich: Eerdmans, 2017), 602.

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[1]  Huynh, Rashid, Foulds.

[2] Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids, Mich: Eerdmans, 2017), 602.

Will the Real Mary Please Stand Up/A Little Christian Herstory

 Cue ominous Dateline NBC-like music:

In the charming hillside village of San Gimignano, Italy, named for the fourth-century bishop Saint Geminianus, there is a tiny tourist attraction that one could easily pass by in the shadow of the town’s stunning skyline of towers. The Museum of Torture, a disturbing and brutal reminder of humanity’s inhumanity, turns out to be a big hit with the kids. Far enough removed from the reality of many of the ancient torture devices on display, one might be tempted to indulge in a little gallows humor. Still, the attraction has a distinctively gruesome and somber vibe. Perhaps in part because right there, front and center, is the torture device about which Christians are most familiar.

Kidding aside, before we bust out the jelly beans, Cadbury eggs, and fancy Easter clothes, before the first mimosa is poured, we are confronted with the stark reality of torture on a cross and the cost of speaking truth to power in a politically volatile climate.

Although the protagonist in our Gospel story does not speak, her bold and scandalous action speaks loudly.  

Six days before the Passover, Jesus and friends gather for a celebratory meal. By now, people are talking about the resurrection event—so much so that Lazarus may be in just as much danger as Jesus.

Martha serves. Mary brings out her best, most expensive oils for anointing and floods the room with exotic fragrance. Fresh in Mary’s mind, no doubt, is the foul odor of Lazarus’ open tomb as her brother is miraculously brought back to life. 

After the death (and resurrection) of a loved one, priorities tend to get really clear. Mary seems clear and focused as she lets down her hair and begins to tenderly wipe Jesus’ feet. Judas is mortified, mostly about the expense. We hear nothing from the others. But Jesus defends Mary’s extravagant and prescient love offering. She is preparing another body for burial. This time it is Jesus who is still very much alive. Perhaps Judas is right to consider the cost – and not only with regard to the poor (John 12:1-8). 

What might this sensuous and outrageous act have cost Mary? Perhaps her true identity. 

(Music up) 

Maybe it’s time for the real Mary to please stand up…

We begin our investigation with the anointing of Jesus in the four gospel accounts. John’s Gospel names Mary of Bethany as the woman who anoints Jesus’ feet. An unnamed woman in Matthew and Mark anoints his head. Luke calls the woman who also anoints Jesus’s feet with her hair and her tears “a sinner.” We might also look to Mark and Luke, who describe Mary Magdalene as having been plagued by seven demons. Does any of this evidence point to something fishy in Magdala? We must press on.

While there is only one Martha in the Gospels, there are multiple Marys. Luke depicts the hardworking sister Martha and contemplative Mary. While some consider Mary Magdalene to be the only “apostle to the apostles,” based on John’s telling, there is some evidence of third-century usage of the title referring to both Martha and Mary. To further muddy the waters, Eastern Orthodox icons of holy myrrh-bearing women include Mary, the mother of Jesus, Martha, Mary Magdalene, and others. 

This mystery grows more complex when we consider some extracanonical texts, like the Gospels of Mary and Thomas, that simply name Mary with no additional descriptor. 

With all the different Marys, it stands to reason that later Christians might conflate or compress all of them together. Eastern Christianity, however, did not. In the Orthodox Church, the two Marys (Bethany and Magdala) retain their individual sainthood.

In an influential sermon in the 6th century, Pope Gregory changed the Western narrative about the sinful woman who anointed Jesus’ feet in Luke, by identifying her as Mary Magdalene. Thankfully, Mary, “the prostitute,” only had her reputation destroyed for a short 15 or so centuries and was finally exonerated in 2006 by Pope Benedict. 

The plot thickens when we consider the still popular legend claiming that Martha, Mary Magdalene, and Lazarus relocated to Southern France after the crucifixion.  Intrigued? Just wait, there's more:

(Music up)

New Testament Scholar and Villanova Professor Elizabeth (Libby) Schraeder recently uncovered some fascinating inconsistencies in John’s Gospel, believed to have been written after the other three, sometime in the late first or early 2nd centuries. Some original Johannine manuscripts, dating to the 2nd century, contained no mention of Martha, only Mary. According to Schraeder, Martha was added to these documents around the fourth century.  More similar edits have since been uncovered. 

Why so much ado about Mary? And to borrow more Shakespeare, what is in a name? Turns out maybe a lot.

Is it possible that all the women with the precious ointment are Mary of Magdala? Contemporary scholars are not the only ones who seem to think so. Jerome, an early church father, speculated that Magdala, which means tower, may have actually been Mary’s nickname.  Another early church patriarch, Tertullian, corroborates that Mary was Lazarus’ only sister and goes so far as to attribute the Christological confession in John chapter 11 to Mary. According to Schraeder and others, this evidence elevates Mary’s status to one of equality with Peter, who makes his own Christological confession in the synoptic Gospels.  Could Mary Magdalene have played an even more prominent role than previously thought? 

After all, the dinner in our Gospel passage takes place in Bethany, just two miles from Jerusalem, a week before the crucifixion. Mary Magdalene was there. Just saying…

What are we to make of these Mary mashups and mix-ups? Were they intentional? Could some of the confusion have been a deliberate tactic, a cover-up to protect the real Mary? Had her true identity been revealed, would she have been cut down like many of the other disciples before having time to preserve the wisdom gleaned at the foot of her teacher? Was there something more sinister involved? 

(Music up)

It’s a lot to take in on this last Sunday in Lent. It’s a lot, but soon, Jesus will travel to Jerusalem, where he will suffer a violent and tortuous death. This should put things into clearer perspective. Whichever Mary anointed Jesus at this first dinner party, it was clearly an act of love and devotion, a precursor to Jesus’ foot-washing at the second and last supper—a precursor to the final act of sacrificial love that will flood the world with the incomprehensibly joyful fragrance of resurrection.

Mary gets this. Her raw, organic, earthy anointing suggests we slow down and notice the love in the room, that we honor the feet of the one who walks into the fire for the least of us, and that we celebrate, as poet Lucille Clifton writes, “that every day something has tried to kill (us) and has failed.”  

It seems altogether possible that a dark-skinned Jewish woman whose name means beloved was closest to Jesus. But a tower on a hill is not so easily hidden. Perhaps Mary was wise to lay low for a couple thousand years.

In these final days of Lent 2025, may we consider, or perhaps reconsider, Jesus and Mary’s scandalous love offerings with clarity, with open eyes and hearts, so “that among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found.”

[1] “Myrrhbearers,” in Wikipedia, January 6, 2025, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Myrrhbearers&oldid=1267686348.

[1] “Untitled,” n.d., https://zondervanacademic.bibleodyssey.net/articles/mary-and-martha/.

[1] Elizabeth Schrader, “Was Martha of Bethany Added to the Fourth Gospel in the Second Century?”, Harvard Theological Review 110, no. 3 (July 2017): 360–92, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816016000213.

[1] https://scholarlypublishingcollective.org/sblpress/jbl/article-abstract/140/4/751/293542/The-Meaning-of-Magdalene-A-Review-of-Literary?redirectedFrom=fulltext

         [1] Whittock, Martyn. “Will the Real Mary Magdalene Please Stand Up?”, November 22, 2022.           https://www.christiantoday.com/news/will-the-real-mary-magdalene-please-stand-up.

[1] Lucille Clifton, The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton 1965-2010, American Poets Continuum (Erscheinungsort nicht ermittelbar: BOA Editions Ltd, 2015).

April Is National Poetry Month

 It’s National Poetry Month

Who knew?

I should write a poem about faith,

about how things that seem darkest

can change literally overnight. 

How impossible light can flood our fear 

until barely a taste of its bitter toxin

 remains on the tongue to speak about. 

I should write about the peace of tranquil seas,

using other soothing metaphors to remind myself

 that God is poetry, that God is…

as we wake up to a new day on Earth.

But I won’t write a poem. I won’t do it

just because someone declares it a month.

Instead, I will breathe in and breathe out,

do a little yoga. I will pray, and I will dream 

of fresh ideas for anointing the beloved.