What resurrected feelings of rage, angst and hurt in me was not the police and whatever they were responding to. It was how the teenagers, running after the cops to see what was happening, were laughing as though they were going to see the circus or some form of entertainment. This is a form of entertainment for them a sort of Ultimate Fighting Championship in a larger cage.
I just kept going in the opposite direction, past the corner where I was caught in a shootout years ago. Past the spot where I confronted a dealer one beautiful Sunday morning before church as she sold early morning crack to the zombies while wearing a huge cross. Past the building where the baby I buried was murdered by his mother. Past the same building the same teenage mother finally jumped off of to escape her own personal hell. I just went past it all.

This Sunday coming we will hear about Mary who anointed Jesus with very expensive oil. Judas, the keeper of the common purse that he used for his solo interests at times, complains that Mary wasted the oil on Jesus. He points out that it could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Of course, that money would pass through the common purse and into his hands. The profit, not the people, were important. Private gain at public expense.

Jesus rebukes Judas’ complaint. Jesus rejects Judas’ values. Jesus rejects Judas’ self-serving desires masquerading as concern for others.

I believe Mary’s humble service to Jesus and her extravagant gift of oil for his anointing is the point.  She breaks all the barriers, she becomes the focus of the attention, she helps her friend prepare for his sacrifice. She and her act of superabundant love is the point. Nothing as cheap as money could match her generosity to Jesus.

The gathering of cops and the kids chasing after their tragic amusements are a block away from the third largest shopping district in all of New York City: Fordham Road. So much commerce everyday. So much money being spent. So much debt being created.

But, the same neighborhood containing both the shopping and the tragic amusements have a medium income of under $23,000 per year. The only way these things can exist side by side is if we confuse what is valuable and what is fleeting. What gives life and what causes us to perish.

For Lent I wish we could look at Mary who anointed Jesus and learn to get on our knees now to pray and praise and bless God. I wish we could kneel before Jesus and worship him rather than things.

As we watched the embers glow, Zoia started asking me very logical questions like, “Why are we doing this?” After I mixed the oil into the ashes she took one look at it and declared it “gross.” Then she asked/declared “You’re not going to put that on people are you?!”

I have better days than others trying to explain Ash Wednesday, Lent, the connection between the visible cross on our foreheads this particular day and the invisible, permanent one that’s always there and what it all means.

This morning, as we’ve done for the last three years, some of us put on robes, grabbed the ashes and some flyers inviting people to church and headed out the the third largest shopping district in all of New York City, Fordham Road.

We stood on the un-shoveled packed ice between the bus stop and the entrance to the #4 train. My council president, Pat, shouted “Get you ashes for Ash Wednesday. Its that time of year again.” The guy who runs the electronics store on that corner turned the thumping music down after he received ashes. Pat and I gave ashes to about 100 people over the course of an hour. Our daughters handed out flyers and shouted invitations to everyone to get ashes.

A woman came up and asked me how much the ashes cost. I said they were free, a gift to remember how much God loves us. She said that she had never done this before. Would God be mad if she did it now? No, I said, no. God would not be mad. I made the sign of the cross on her forehead and spoke words she may have forgotten or never heard before, “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

Later, I went to see Frances. She’s been a member of Fordham Lutheran since 1938. Frances has hospice care at home. She had not eaten or drunk in three days. She will pass soon, very soon. As we held hands and prayed, touching our hands to her ever shrinking body, we recalled the promises of her baptism. She has been baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection.  Jesus goes to prepare a place for her.

This is the truth and hope of Lent. Death comes, but God’s love is stronger even than this.

So, instead of giving up chocolate, cussing or soda (as good as doing all that is), instead, for the next forty days pray words of gratitude, look back to see how God has moved in your life so that you can walk by faith, pray for someone who has wounded you and do good to someone who does not deserve it.

This is why we burn the Palm Sunday palms, put them on our foreheads, remember our mortality and the hope of resurrection.  This is why.

This is a synopsis of the commercials from the Superbowl played Sunday.

As a side note, my best friend’s nephew plays for the Colts, but I was rooting for the Saints. Being named Katrina, I feel a particular need to hope for only good things for New Orleans.

I’ve heard Rush Limbaugh (yes, I listen to his show) talk about how men are portrayed as idiots on tv. I think he’s right. But, who was the audience on Sunday? Women in unsatisfying marriages; single women; angry women? I’m pretty sure the desired demographic for the game was men with disposable income who would be so moved by the commercials that they would buy Budweiser beer, Dodge Chargers (because they were so dissatisfied with the rest of their lives, having to listen & put their dirty underwear in the basket and other oppressive conditions, that they were going to drive their dream cars) all the while wearing their new Dockers pants after walking about in their underwear. (all the commercials are here with a pretty good analysis)

I myself did not find the Focus on the Family commercial offensive. I do wish FF would actually focus on families that are here in their various states. They tend to want to focus on anti-abortion stuff (I’ve never heard them protest Viagra commercials) and anti-gay stuff. They are entitled to their opinion in this country, but I think their name should better reflect who they really are. This is my suggestion: Focus on the Heterosexual, male dominated, woman in her place, obedient and perfect children who should be seen but not heard while completing their homework assignments from their homeschooling books that deny established science like evolution and teaches fear of knowledge, Family. Or something like that.
I did enjoy the game though. I read that the Saints coach slept with the trophy that night. Who can really blame him? If I were him or a member of the team, I’d want to hold onto that glorious moment of victory forever. I would have photos all over the place, video, my facebook page would have a permanent status: Superbowl Champion!

I would want it enshrined.

Its tempting to live in moments of great happiness, of triumph. Life, day in and day out, can be tedious, routine, boring. This is why daydreaming is so much fun, we get to be somewhere else.

Peter, Jesus’ dear disciple, wanted to enshrine his mountain top experience with James, John and Jesus. In Luke’s gospel, the three disciples are with Jesus when Elijah and Moses appear at the top of the mountain. Peter, talking before thinking, offers to build permanent housing for them, to stay up on the mountain. He is interrupted by a cloud that engulfs them and a voice that overpowers them. “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him.” God basically tells Peter to shut up & listen. Probably good advice for many, myself foremost.

I believe Peter had been listening to Jesus. Jesus had already told them he would be betrayed and killed. Peter knew that once Jesus moved toward Jerusalem, that prophecy would come. Peter didn’t want his dear friend to suffer, to die. He wanted to keep him safe, up on the mountain. He wanted to hold onto that glorious moment, forever.

But Jesus had to come down from the mountain. He had to come into the pain and suffering. He had to walk into the political and religious minefields. He had to do all this.

And, I’m glad he did. A god who stays far off cannot help us. A god who refuses to be Incarnate, with us, cannot redeem us. A god disinterested and safely up in the heavens will never hear our prayers.

I always want to hold onto the great and glorious moments of my life. I often want to choose what is safe, and known, and familiar. But, Jesus came down from the mountain. We are called to follow him down the mountain too.

Lord God,
You have called your servants
to ventures of which we cannot see the ending,
by paths as yet untrodden,
through perils unknown.

Give us faith
to go out with good courage,
not knowing where we go,
but only that your hand is leading us
and your love supporting us;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

This is better than cars, beer and men in their underwear any day.

Its raining. Its grey. Its Monday (that’s not really a good one for pastors, though considering so many of us take that day off, if we take a day off).

I’ve done my usual this morning: read the Times, the Daily News, the NY Post, Drudge Report, Google News. They all pretty much say the same things: Haiti (lots dead and extreme suffering), bombs in Baghdad, the John Roberts Supreme Court makes people irrelevant to the electoral process, Democrats are impotent and inept, Republicans are channeling Nancy Regan, “Just Say No!”

But this sadness I feel isn’t really affected by the news, just affirmed by it.

The sadness is from weariness.

Yesterday I preached on the Luke 4 text where Jesus claims Issiah’s vision for freedom and release.  I said this proclaimed claim of sight for the blind, release for the captives, good news for the poor is real even if we cannot see it, touch it, feel it, internalize it, or find evidence of its full reality.

Think for a moment: Haiti, among the poorest of the poor, has been the recipient of bad news for a really, really long time. Our fellow citizens, who have made good choices, obeyed the law, have been good and faithful neighbors always, are still suffering because they are drowning in medical bills they cannot pay for illnesses that are not covered by the insurance they bought and paid on for decades.

Its just not right. And, try as I might, pray as I do, fighting the good fight, I become weary and sad that we, as a people, seem unwilling to move ourselves forward. We want scapegoats (Pat Roberts: the Haitians made a pact with the devil to win their freedom from slavery & have been paying for it ever since), hoarding (i.e. blame the welfare moms), revenge (Texas executions). We just seem to be unwilling to move beyond fear.

After Jesus’ first sermon, he went on to point out how God’s grace and mercy had been given to non-Jews, a leper and widow who didn’t deserve these gifts, people who were not to be trusted, given anything and certainly they were undeserving of God’s attention.

The people listening to Jesus were so filled with rage that they wanted to kill him, throw him off a cliff. We’ve seen barely restrained rage of late. Tea Party folks depicting Obama as Hitler. Men showing up to rallies with their guns, loaded, fully on display. All legal, of course, but not all right.

Closer to home, my home, people I have cared about, as a pastor and others as friends, just disappear. Some have died and others just leave and I am left without answers. Each person’s departure compounds the others.

And, sometimes in the midst of this sadness, I return to the basics of faith, those things I’ve known for a long time: prayers, songs, scripture. And I am drawn to something I’ve know for a much shorter time comparatively: no matter how I feel, God is still working, making all things new. God’s success is not stunted by my feelings no matter what they are.

Thanks be to God.

My daughter said she had been thinking about her Yia Yia (Greek for grandmother) who passed just over two years ago. She didn’t say it directly, but I could tell she was trying to figure out this thing of death and her parents. I remembered my growing awareness as a little girl that some day my parents would die.

We were quiet for a while. I said to her, “Remember, Jesus made us a promise that we will be with him and with everyone else who dies.” Zoia said, “Oh, Mama, I don’t believe that. I KNOW that!!! I KNOW Jesus said that!”

There are days I wish I had the faith of a seven year old. The faith of a child who is so innocent and still unaware of the grey areas of life. Faith that easily accepts as true all that Jesus promised. Faith that has not yet been challenged, maybe even broken, by the reality of evil incarnate.

Today is the feast of the Epiphany when the Magi are led to the baby Jesus and his parents. Their discovery helped to make known that God had sent a savior. This Sunday coming we will celebrate the baptism of Jesus. He was about 30 years old when he was baptized. So, in less than a week we age Jesus from about the age of 2 to 30.

The version of Jesus’ baptism we will read focuses not so much on the act of water being poured over Jesus than over what happens after that, the Holy Spirit rending the division between heaven and earth as a voice proclaims “You are my beloved.”

The gospel of Luke is interested in what happens after the baptism.

Think of it this way. Parents, after having paid thousands of dollars to have their offspring educated at colleges or universities want to know “What are you going to do now?” Now that you have this degree, what are you going to do, when are you going to move out so that we can put a hot tub in your room, etc. etc.

It was during prayer, after the baptism in Luke’s gospel, that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus and the voice from heaven spoke. It was after that that Jesus began his public ministry.

It is during prayer today, as we remember our baptisms, as we allow the still small voice of God to speak amid the competing noises surrounding us, as we seek first the Kingdom of God, that the power of the Holy Spirit can come upon us and that heavenly voice speaks to us reminding us that we, too, are God’s beloved.

When Zoia asks me about death, it scares me. There are so many of my friends who have died and some family members whom I miss so much. My body aches with grief still over some of their deaths. It scares me to think of anthing happening to my dear friends and family.

This side of heaven death is permanent. It cannot be negoiated with. It cannot be changed. It cannot be fixed. Ultimately, we are completely powerless against it.

“I will be with you always.” “I am the way and the truth and the life.” These promises of Jesus hold me fast even when the ugly reality of the world screams brokeness and disbelief. These promises of Jesus hold us when we run, blinded by barriers real or imagined. These promises of Jesus do not depend upon my perfect belief.

These promises of Jesus are real because of what Jesus did after his baptism when he healed, fed, prayed and taught. They hold power because he walked with the outcast, the ignored, the dirty. The promises overwhelm death because he rose from the dead.

I already dread the day when Zoia will start having sleepovers with her friends, go to sleep away camp and to college. Someone asked her last summer is she was going to go to sleep away camp. She said “No, my Mama couldn’t handle it.” She was right.

I don’t like it when people go away, fade away, disappear, die. I want to hold those whom I love close.

This side of heaven, between our baptisms and the day when Christ will come again, his promises hold onto us. This side of heaven, we will walk by faith, somedays with strength, others with difficulty.

But, this side of heaven, each day we live, we have the opportunity to pray and hear that voice that comes through it all whether we are conscious of it our not: “you are my beloved.”

Its great to know your HIV status, take a friend with you to get tested, be safe. Talk with someone who understands when you have questions.
www.facebook.com/italkbecause
www.twitter.com/italkbecause

Why talk about HIV/AIDS to the people in your life? We know that open and honest conversations can prevent new HIV infections and reduce the stigma attached to people living with HIV/AIDS. Today, over 100,000 New Yorkers are living with HIV/AIDS, and thousands dont know that they are infected.

And because every 9½ minutes an American is infected with HIV, we need to educate ourselves and others about the virus.

Join the conversation. Film and upload your own testimonial. Share why you talk about HIV/AIDS to the people in your life and why this is important to you.

1. Begin your video with “My name is _________ and I talk about HIV/AIDS because…….”.

2. Upload your video to YouTube

3. Email the URL of your video to: italkbecause@gmail.com

This project is a partnership of the New York City Council, Callen-Lorde Community Health Center, Gay Mens Health Crisis, Harlem United, Visual AIDS, LIFEbeat, The Asian & Pacific Islander Coalition on HIV/AIDS, Bronx AIDS Services, Latino Commission on AIDS, Gay Men of African Descent, Bailey House, Citiwide Harm Reduction, The Women’s HIV Collaborative, AIDS Community Research Initiative of America (ACRIA), Hispanic AIDS Forum, Fortune Society, Village Care New York, Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS, National Black Leadership Commission on AIDS, New York State AIDS Coalition, Community Health Action of Staten Island.

To find a testing location near you, or to join the fight against HIV/AIDS, the following resources are available:

To find a testing center near you: www.hivtest.org

I Agree with Warren

Thursday, December 18th, 2008
I have to express my opinion regarding Obama’s decision to have Rev. Rick Warren deliver the invocation at the inaguration. I feel compelled to comment on the 2 things I know, thus far, that Rev. Warren has said that I agree with.

The abortion holocaust. We have too many for no good reason. I agree. This is what I propose to end abortion on demand tomorrow: chemical castration of all males who reach puberity. Once a male becomes legally married to a female, then the chemicals are removed, his body returns to its functions, and the possibility of having sex with his wife & making a baby with her in the bonds of marriage ensues.

As a side benefit, the number of rapes would probably drop. Male on Male violence would drop. We would probably not have the same level of football, baseball, etc., but I think Pr. Warren is willing to make this sacrifice on behalf of all males born into the USA to stop the holocaust of abortion.

A second idea: hold boys and men responsible for their sexual activity. A female, if she chooses not to have an abortion, but carry the pregnancy full term, can only be pregnant once every 9 months. A young guy can get 1, 2, 3 females pregnant a day! Well, it seems Chemical castration may be the only way to go!

Chasity belts for boys/men. The can urinate, but nothing more. They won’t need to do more than that until the blessed day of Holy Matrimony anyway.

Oh, and changing the legal defination of marriage from between men and women for only 2% of the American population. You know, Pastor Warren, blacks make up about 12% of the population. Since many of them lose the privilage to vote after serving time in jail, then it will probably be easier to take away the right of marriage from the remaining, what 10%? And Latinos. Their numbers are growning. If we can strip them of their rights, you know, the ones who are here legally, we’ll just throw all the others out, then we won’t have to worry about them joing up with other minority groups, consolidating power and taking away the rights of the new numerical minority. That would be us whites.

What percentage does a group have to reach in the United states of American to qualify for rights? Let me see if I can recall that lesson from 6th grade: “equal protection under the law;” “life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness.” I can’t seem to remember what percentage of the population the group had to have reached to get their rights.

Well, Pastor Warren must know, he said that since glbt people only make up 2% of the population in the US, we have not apparently reached that magical number.

Somewhere in the very back of my dreams, I had hoped Obama would remember meeting me Dec. 1, 2007 at the Heartland Presidental forum and would have been moved to invite me to deliver an invocation. I did it that day and have also delivered one for the New York City Council.

But, being lesbian, partnered, out, with a child, probably disqualifies me from any number of things.

I certainly hope Rev. Warren doesn’t wear a suite of mixed cloth (polyester/cotten blend) or some such thing, because Leviticus is VERY clear that is a no no. I pray he doesn’t eat oysters, shrimp, lobster prior to the event, because that in an abomination in the eyes of G_d.

I do not like abortion. I teach that sex is best within a marriage. I do believe a democracy is best judged by how well it extends equal rights and responsibilities to all its citizens, not just the well liked, rich, powerful. Democracys are strongest when we realize the protection of the rights of the least and last are essential to the well being of everyone.