Happy Lent!

I greeted Fr. Y with those words from the title, and he laughed and said it was an oxymoron. I replied, "Yes, I like that sort of thing."

Well, "Happy Lent" is kind of an oxymoron and...kind of not. I happen to like Lent. When I wrote an article for my old church's newsletter, I learned that "Lent" came from an Anglo-Saxon word for "spring." That kind of stuck on me. When I think of Spring, I think of Spring Cleaning, being refreshed, starting anew. Lent is like that -- Spring Cleaning for the soul.

I like the penitential seasons of Advent and Lent because they are an opportunity to intentionally clean up my spiritual life. Like housekeeping, one should clean up on a regular basis, but sometimes you need to set aside a special time to do some deep cleaning.

In a couple of weeks, I'll meet with one of our priests and say my Confession. It will be an opportunity for me to hear God, through the priest, say "I forgive you." Now, I know that God has already forgiven me, but for things that really bother me, I need to admit my wrongs and hear -- physically -- the words, "I forgive you." From past experience, I know that when I can tell someone the wrongs I've done, get a way for making things right (often referred to as a "penance"), and hear the words of forgiveness, I will feel better. Not only will I feel better, but more importantly, I will have made steps toward repairing the relationships that have been broken by my actions -- relationships with other people and with God Himself.

I like the somber, subdued mood in our worship during Lent. It's a break from the frenetic activity that sometimes invades even our worship space. I find that I can connect with God more deeply. Our music emphasizes our brokenness and need for healing. I appreciate that I can stop and admit that I'm human; I'm fallible -- I don't need to know it all or do it all. My 12-step work reminds me that there is a Power greater than I am, and Lent reminds me of the same.

As for giving something up...this year, not so much. I think I'll go the route of adding something rather than taking away. The reality is that I'll naturally give up something in order to make this "new" thing, whatever it may be, fit. This year, I'm going to add exercise and Bible Study to my life. It will likely mean less playing with the iPhone...oooh, can I do it? Heh. I can with God's help!

I wish you a blessed and most holy Lent. Happy Lent!

Lent's Coming! Quick -- get out the sackcloth and ashes!

Recently, I contributed a Lenten meditation for my former church's collection of writings. I like Lent, with its thoughtful, penitential focus. It's a lot like spring cleaning (the word lent comes from an Anglo-Saxon word for spring, after all) for the soul.

Here's the meditation:

Meditation for the 5th Day in Lent 2010 by Erlinda

Please read 1 Corinthians 1:1-19

There is a saying: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” Unfortunately, this holds true when we look at the state of the Church in Corinth and the present-day Church. Because we have been created to live in community (Gen. 2:18, Matt. 18:20, 1 Cor. 1:9), we have an almost insatiable hunger to belong to something. But often, when we create groups in which to belong, we also create out-groups. When Paul learned that the Church had split into factions, he admonished the Corinthians to strive for unity, “in mind and purpose.”

I have seen the sad results of church splits, whether from personal differences, doctrinal differences, liturgical differences, or any number of things that cause relationships to break down and die. People experience real pain from these splits, and friendships and communities are lost. Worse, people who have been wounded may begin to believe that there is no purpose for a worshiping community. Hearing the Corinthians say, “I belong to Paul”, or “I belong to Apollos”, or “I belong to Cephas”, or “I belong to Christ,” is not much different than saying, “I am orthodox,” or “I am progressive,” or “I belong to Holy Spirit,” or “I belong to St. George,” or “I belong to…” I call it looking at church with a “little c”, rather than Church with a “big C.”

We are going through a time of divisiveness within our Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion, of which we are a part. If we, as a Church, are to survive this tumultuous period, we need to do what Paul told the Corinthians – be united “in mind and purpose.” That purpose is to proclaim – in words and actions – the Good News of Jesus Christ to those who do not know Him. This is too big a task for any small group to undertake. We need to look beyond our differences and cooperate in inter-parish and even inter-denominational efforts. Christ will give us the gifts we need to achieve our goal – to fill the hunger of those lonely souls who need to know the love of Christ and the love of a truly Christian community.

Let us pray: Lord Jesus Christ, give us the strength to overcome the sad divisions we are experiencing in our Church. Help us to use the gifts You have given us to proclaim the Good News of Your presence to those who hunger so much for Your love, Your grace and Your peace. Amen.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Some years ago, I learned that my birthday falls on a special day on the church calendar. We Episcopalians call it the "Commemoration of the Faithful Departed," or "All Souls Day." It's a good time to think about those who have gone ahead of us to the nearer presence of God. We remember how their lives had touched ours, and we have hope that we will see them again. I don't know a lot about the specific customs associated with "Dia De Los Muertos," or "Day of the Dead", but I do believe in setting aside time for remembrance, and not only on November 2.

Today I did something a little different on my birthday. Amidst the celebratory activities, I visited with Fr. Z and celebrated the Rite of Reconciliation, popularly known as Confession. Usually, this is something I do during Advent and Lent, but I felt a need to closely examine and deal with some problems now.

The Catholics consider Reconciliation a sacrament, one of seven. Episcopalians don't see it as a sacrament (we recognize two -- Baptism and Eucharist), but rather a sacramental rite. To be honest, as a former Catholic, I'm more inclined to simply consider Reconciliation a sacrament, as I'm a bit fuzzy on the finer distinctions.

I think Reconciliation/Confession has been given a bum rap over the years. Certainly there have been instances of insensitive or punitive priests, but mostly, my experience has been that of cleansing of the sin that has cluttered my spirit. Sin separates me from my fellows and from God. I find it healing to expose the sin and repent. Of course, God forgives, and has forgiven, even without the presence of a priest. For me, it is useful to confess to someone who is, presumably, a bit further along the spiritual path than I am. It is humbling, and a bit embarrassing, to confess one's shortcomings to someone else. I'd just as soon try to ignore those shortcomings or concentrate on the other person's faults -- especially if the sin involves a conflict with another. When I come to a priest, I realize that God is working through him (or her) during the Rite of Reconciliation.

There is, also, the sanctity of the confessional. I know that my confession will not be part of conversations amongst my fellow congregants. While I know that I can avoid that problem by confessing privately to God (I don't say "directly to God" because I believe that confessing in the Rite is directly to God.), I do believe that another person can provide perspective that I can't usually get by myself.

Penance is also another aspect of the Rite that I appreciate. Not all priests use that word, but in their counsel there will usually be some concrete act I can do to make things right, or at least get on the right road towards that end.

So, I found that celebrating, yes celebrating, the Rite of Reconciliation was a a good addition to my birthday celebration. After all, what better way to celebrate my birth than to be reminded of my new birth in Christ?

Be blessed.

More Wisdom from Gump

My momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." Forrest Gump

Sorry I have not given you much to read. Life in the face-to-face world has been very demanding. Since the grandson's mommy decided to go back to school -- a very good thing -- my husband and I have been alternating babysitting duty during the week. I believe that since I give so much attention and care to the children at work, my grandson deserves my fullest attention at home. Actually, that would be the case even if I did not work with kids. So, anyway, I have little time for reading and responding to email and Facebook, let alone stringing together complete thoughts for a blog entry.

This is a rare quiet time in our household. Papa (my husband) is napping, stepdaughter J is reading, and grandson S has finally succumbed to a nap. That gives me -- Nana -- a chance to blog today.

So back to the quote -- life is such a mixed bag. Joy and sorrow tumbling together.

This Sunday is the anniversary of a most joyous day -- the birth of grandson S. He will be 2, and is learning to proudly say so when asked, "How old are you?" He is a delightful playmate, inviting me to see once again through childlike eyes the joys of playdough, coloring, and blocks. My husband has returned from a business trip safe and sound. J is doing very well in school.

There are sorrows too. I heard about friends who have lost someone close to them. I heard about a friend who is dealing with depression and alcoholism. People, myself included, are still dealing with the uncertainties of the economy. I still carry the scars from a pastoral relationship/friendship gone sour.

Since it's Mental Health Awareness month, I'll share a little about my own experience with mental illness. I've dealt with depression for as long as I could remember. There was a time, several years ago, when I thought that living was quite overrated. My thinking was beyond clouded and I said and did things that hurt those I cared about. I spoke with the priest who was my pastor at the time, expressing my sorrow and regret over those hurtful deeds.

His response was not the warm, fuzzy response I expected. He said: "True repentance is doing everything in your power to get well."

These words have been my guide in recovery ever since (Thank you, Father D!). It wasn't enough to be sorrowful. I needed to change course, to do the things my treatment professionals recommended, to get rid of things and attitudes that kept me ill. I needed to be patient, as some changes took time.

Recovery is an ongoing process, and I am constantly on the lookout for signs that I'm drifting into depression. Recently, I experienced a depressive episode caused by a painkiller I was prescribed. Because I was vigilant, I was able to stop that episode before it became more serious.

When you hit bottom, there's nothing else to do but reach up to God. During my most severe depression, I began to pray more regularly. Today I pray each morning as I drive to work. For me, it works because at home there are so many distractions. Ideally, I'd like to go to church and pray. That only works now when I'm able to go to choir practice early and sit in the quiet of the empty church. When I was a Catholic, I'd go to Eucharistic Adoration in the chapel and sit quietly in the presence of Christ in the form of the Eucharist. I need to find/create a quiet space, besides my car, to pray. Any thoughts?

For all those dealing with mental illness, whether personally or as friends or family members, I offer this prayer from the Book of Common Prayer:

May God the Father bless you, God the Son heal you, God the Holy Spirit give you strength. May God the holy and undivided Trinity guard your body, save your soul, and bring you safely to his heavenly country; where he lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

"And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground." Forrest Gump

So I might be the only one who is actually glad to see the old church site being transformed into something completely different. Not to minimize what others are feeling, but I'm not particularly sad that the buildings are being taken away and the land is being cleared. You see, my old church was seen as a kind of natural oasis of trees and wildlife in the midst of a rapidly developing area of town. I will miss that, of course. It was a lovely site for my wedding, and my step-daughter and grandson were both baptized there. It was a peaceful area for journaling and praying.

However, events of the more recent past were very painful. And if that church remained in that place, it would stand as a symbol of a friendship, a spiritual mentorship, that went horribly wrong. I'm guessing that if the other party were to read this, it would be interpreted as something insulting, but it is what it is.

My husband said my description reminded him of what Forrest Gump did for his wife Jenny after her death. Jenny's childhood home was the site of abuses at the hands of her father. Forrest bought the house and had it bulldozed. Speaking at Jenny's grave, he reports to her: "And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground."

That's how I feel about the old church site being razed. The site of anguish is being changed and transformed into something new and helpful to others in a different way (student apartments will be built there).

So, I have no tears for the old church site. Besides, as my husband reminded me, the church is not being destroyed because the church is the people. The land is just a place.

Not Just for Lent Anymore

This is a reprint of a reflection piece I wrote for a series of Lenten meditations at my old church. Psalm 19 is the Psalm appointed for this week in the Revised Common Lectionary.

Meditation for the 8th day of Lent by Erlinda R. Blevins
Please read Psalms 19 and 46

One of my favorite composers is Marty Haugen, a composer whose music helped shape my spirituality. As a young woman discovering my faith and connection to God, I sang his music as we celebrated the Mass. Haugen’s “Canticle of the Sun” is an uplifting, joyful rendering of Psalm 19:

Refrain: “The heavens are telling the glory of God,
and all creation is shouting for joy.
Come dance in the forest,
come, play in the field,
and sing, sing to the glory of the Lord.”

I sometimes come to our church grounds to marvel at God’s creation. From the trees to the deer and even the occasional skunk that crosses my path, God’s creation is wonderful. All things “sing” to God’s glory.

But, there is also a challenge posed by these psalms: “Be still and know that I am God,” (Psalm 46) and “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and redeemer,” (Psalm 19).

Anyone who knows me knows that being still is a formidable challenge to me. I want to move, to fix, to change, to make something – anything – happen. I have trouble waiting for God to work in His time. God is telling me to let go, let Him handle things, and know He is more powerful than any problem I face.

However, the greater challenge to me is posed by Psalm 19. The meditations of my heart, the words of my mouth – are they acceptable to the Lord? Do I trust Him to be my rock and my redeemer? I must admit I have fallen short, and hurt people I love as a result. The good news is if I do the second part – trust God to be my rock and redeemer – He will help me conform my meditations and words to His will. How do I show that trust? By praying, studying, and worshiping – doing those things that strengthen my relationship with Him.

Let us pray: Almighty God, Sovereign Ruler of all Creation, help us grow in trust, allowing you to guide us and conform our thoughts, words and deeds to Your will. Give us the strength not to rush to solutions, but to wait for You to work in Your time. We ask this through Your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Here's a little meditative background music (there's no video):

The Great Western Heresy

Many people have criticized that phrase from Katherine Jefferts-Schori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church.

What she was referring to was the idea that salvation is God's gift to us as individuals, independent of anyone else. Here's a quote from her address to the General Convention of the Episcopal Church:

"...The overarching connection in all these crises has to do with the great Western Heresy - that we can be saved as individuals, that any of us alone can be in right relationship with God. It's caricatured in some quarters by insisting that salvation depends on reciting a specific verbal formula about Jesus. That individualist focus is a form of idolatry, for it puts me and my words in the place that only God can occupy, at the center of existence, as the ground of all being. That heresy is one reason for the theme of this Convention."

I have mixed feelings about that. I believe that salvation is both an individual and communal event. As individuals, we are each given free will and the responsibility to choose a right relationship with God. But we do not experience the fullness of this gift except in community with other believers.

As I promised, I'll quote more from Bishop Frey's book, The Dance of Hope:

"Any authentic recovery of hope will take place in community with other people...the New Testament word for community is koinonia. It means 'a deep sharing of life marked by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit'."

Our churches are supposed to be the places where we find this deep sharing of life. Unfortunately, we often fall short of this ideal in our actual experience. "However," Bp. Frey continues, "a deeper awareness of just what the church is designed to be (emphasis mine) is the prerequisite for enabling it to become what it really is."

What would the ideal faith community look like? You might think about it. I'm going to.

Blessings,
E