“FOR THE DAY AFTER THE WORST DAY" by Kara Root

A blessing for the times death has won.

A prayer for Holy Saturday.

“It is finished.”

It simply does not get worse than yesterday.

The world has ended.

And then there was evening and there was morning.

The second day.

Today is the day after the worst day of all.

Yesterday happened.

We are stripped of illusions now.

We have stared evil in the eyes, and it has won.

It’s OK to lie down and curl in on yourself for a little while.

It’s OK not to be vigilant today.

Today is the day of not knowing and not doing.

It’s OK not to know.

It’s OK to just be.

This is a day for silent shock and hushed sorrow.

It’s a day for heaviness, and slowness,

and not talking too much, or too loudly.

This is a day to tread tenderly on the earth,

to respect the pain that each one bears,

to be gentle with yourself,

and cautious with each other.

To eat simply and sleep hungrily,

and leave the lights and your shoes off.

Between the Friday and the Sunday

came a Sabbath day.

The greatest drama of all creation and eternity pauses

for the day of remembering God is God,

and we are not,

in an inconvenient,

and even ironic,

place in the story.

It stops at the absence of God from the earth;

the death of it all;

the day after the worst day.

And it stays here a bit.

Sometimes Sabbath is for keening.

After the worst day of all

comes the day of nothing left to lose.

So rest in the gaping hole of today.

It’s OK to pause here. (God did.)

It cannot swallow you whole.

It’s OK to stop and not look ahead.

Yet.

- Root, Kara K.. Receiving This Life: Practicing the Deepest Belonging (p. 122). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

To Know Just How He Suffered Would Be Dear by Emily Dickinson

To know just how He suffered would be dear

To know if any Human eyes were near

To whom He could entrust His wavering gaze

Until it settle broad on Paradise

To know if He was patient part content

Was Dying as He thought or different

Was it a pleasant Day to die

And did the Sunshine face his way

What was His furthest mind Of Home or God

Or what the Distant say

At news that He ceased Human Nature

Such a Day

And Wishes Had He Any

Just His Sigh Accented

Had been legible to Me

And was He Confident until

Ill fluttered out in Everlasting Well

And if He spoke What name was Best

What last

What One broke off with

At the Drowsiest

Was He afraid or tranquil

Might He know

How Conscious Consciousness could grow

Till Love that was and Love too best to be

Meet and the Junction be Eternity

Remembering

Bathroom wall art in a Japanese restaurant reminds me of three little words: Trust Pray Wait. The passing reminder feels timely, because a few days previously an acquaintance shared with me her method of listening for God. She types a question into her computer, then hits the return key a few times to give God a new line. And words come. She says she can tell when God is speaking through her typing because God uses her name and communicates in brief phrases; usually four or five words only. I think this is lovely: trusting that one’s own fingers can be a divining rod for God’s will in matters grand and small. God, how can I right this wrong? God, what is my next move? Trust that God is there and that God understands. Pray. Then wait for the spirit to find an expression that one can see, feel, or hear.

Holy week makes me wonder about the ways Jesus attuned himself to the Holy Spirit. Did he hear God through dreams? Did God’s voice reach him through feelings that would then organize themselves into thoughts and convictions? Did he feel God when he was in nature, or see God when looking into the eyes of a child or friend? Was there a particular moment in time when Jesus heard God say, “My son, I’m sorry that this will be painful for you. I will give you all the strength and courage you need to endure what lies before you.”

When Jesus learned that his life would end with humiliation and pain, he accepted. It was not just faithfulness or courage that compelled him to accept his fate. It was love for us. Jesus loved the nameless crowds who ridiculed him, as well as the generations who would come after. If he stopped to ponder the mechanism by which his sacrifice would save us, maybe he imagined us in years to come loving him. Maybe he drew comfort from the thought that during Holy Week years hence, people feeling lost, afraid, ashamed, lacking conviction, or isolated from God would remember a brave human from antiquity who accepted the cross, trusting that God’s love would overcome death. Maybe our remembering is his answered prayer.

-Frances Baxley

Imperfect

…..And no hard feelings

Lord knows, they haven't done much good for anyone….

Kept me afraid and cold

With so much to have and hold

Under the curving sky

I'm finally learning why

It matters for me and you

To say it and mean it too

For life and its loveliness

And all of its ugliness

Good as it's been to me

I have no enemies….

We’re so lucky to have such a great music program at GUC, the Avett Brothers song from a few weeks ago was a highlight of the season for me.

I got a chance to attend The Grand Ole Opry in Tennessee this week. The Opry is a live radio show that has been produced in Nashville for the last 98 years. As it’s been said about other locations……they have both kinds of music…..Country and Western.

Maybe not as solemn of a Holy Week experience as you were expecting….

…but sitting in the audience, seeing the cast of characters (on and off stage) and listening to the music, I was reminded of the worldly and spiritual imperfections that we see in every character in the stories of Holy Week.

At The Opry song subjects very wildly:

-Offering up your troubles to God.

-Getting revenge on your no good cheating ex.

-Asking for forgiveness after falling short.

-Horses, liquor, pickup trucks, etc.

-Understanding that this life is only part of God’s plan.

The lyrics are real. It’s the opposite of our “fine, everything is fine” culture. The lyrics remind me of the realness of the characters we encounter in the walk through Holy Week. Their struggles with the worldly and the spiritual:

-The followers who are committed in the good times but run in fear when things get hard.

-The mob turning from adoration to riotous hatred in a few days.

-The bystanders who get swept up in a great situation without meaning to: “this man is too weak….you carry his cross for him”…What!…but I was just on my way to the store.

-The powerful who will do or say anything to stay in power.

-The man who betrays a friend, regrets it, and is broken when he finds he can’t repair the situation.

-The leader who tries to talk reason into an unreasonable mob and then washes his hands of the situation in frustration and exhaustion.

The story and the characters are recorded to show their imperfections that mirror our imperfections. We’re all invited on the walk with Christ despite them and to grow through him in understanding, anticipation and forgiveness.

-Joel Staffilino

LETTING GO by Sarah Are

If the trees can do it, then so can I,

At least that’s what I tell myself.

For if year after year the trees can let go

Of their brightest leaves and that warm autumn glow, Then maybe in time, like trees with their leaves,

I can release

That which keeps me from you.

Maybe in time, I can let go

Of my need for certainty

And my need to look good,

My need for busyness,

And my need to numb pain;

The trivial ways I measure my self-worth,

Or the hurtful ways I measure yours.

For if year after year the trees let go,

Then maybe, in time, I can too.

Maybe,

In time,

My heart will know spring.

Once Again

Yesterday marked the start of Holy Week. All the named days are about to parade by…Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday. All the big events. The week contains some of the most familiar, and most disturbing, scenes from Jesus’ life. Holy Week is not for the faint of heart.

And what of all the values that we’ve been cultivating? What of faithfulness and nurture? Of presence and forgiveness? Welp, it’s not a good look, as my 15-year-old would say. During Holy Week, the people who once embodied these values suddenly vacate them. The faith of the disciples seems to evaporate with Judas, for starters. But even Peter’s faithfulness flees in the face of the Roman guards. And while we had been given one Mary, deeply present to Jesus, anointing his feet, we now get a different Mary so distracted by grief that she cannot see the risen Christ in front of her. As for nurture? Jesus himself has doubts, calling out to God from the cross that he has been forsaken. In Holy Week all our heroes turn antihero, if even for a moment.

In the end – isn’t this a huge relief? Doesn’t it somehow seem right that our most sacred stories are not just about the best of us, but the worst of us as well? I suppose if I ever needed proof that we worship a God who knows and loves us, the events of Holy Week are where I’d look first. Because it is during this week we see that God did not come to redeem those who get progressively better and better. He came to redeem a world of back-sliding, messy, and despairing people who need Him not despite these traits, but because of them.

We all know how the story ends. A quiet morning, the stone rolled back. God once again among us. And the last few stories are beauties – Thomas helped back to faith from doubt. Peter thrice forgiven and nurtured by a loving Jesus. Friends present to one another at a breakfast on the beach, laughing and eating together. I think it is in these final stories that real grace resides – here that we find the meaning of Holy Week. Easter, we see, is not just about the resurrection of Christ, but about the return of what is good and possible in each one of us.

-Susie Pratt

An Always Present God

As a person of faith I see God’s presence in many things throughout my daily life. However, if I am not feeling my best and not actively seeking out God’s presence, it can be harder to spot. I think this difficulty is familiar to most people of faith. Even though hard times can prove seeing and feeling God’s presence to be challenging, it’s nowhere near impossible, and I have experienced this perseverance first hand.

The most recent and impactful experience has been moving here to Glencoe. Moving here after years of memories I made in Indiana was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. Transferring to a new school without knowing anyone in the beginning of the hardest year in high school has been by far one of the hardest transitions I’ve faced. Knowing no one and knowing very little about Glencoe and my new school, I was obviously bound to face challenges.

Sitting in classes full of unfamiliar faces, learning new rules, and the worst part, wearing a uniform, has been by far the hardest challenge for me so far in this new stage of my life. The school year is almost over now and things have become much better, but the beginning was definitely a hard time to see the good and find God’s presence in this new space, that doesn’t mean it never happened though. Being the only junior in a class full of freshmen was definitely not the place I thought I would find God’s presence, but miracles happen. A girl who was also in my math class came up to me with tons of energy ready to ask why I’m a junior in a freshman physics class. Talking to new people isn’t exactly my forte, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. We now talk almost every day and I’ve made some great memories with her throughout the year. I believe God’s presence was shown through her small act of coming up to me on that first day of class. She had no clue who I was and yet that didn’t stop her from talking to me. I was nervous and confused but she came in like a ray of light and has continued to shine. The shining energy she exudes is a beautiful example of God’s presence being shone through even in the most vulnerable and scary of times.

-Evey Crews

Breath(e)

Then the LORD God formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. – Genesis 2:7

Breath. It is essential for human life. And it is something most never really think much about. We don’t have to consider it. Our bodies are designed in such a way that, for the most part, our breathing is on autopilot. For some, however, it consumes their thoughts.

In another lifetime, I was a young respiratory therapy student. This is how I met Wanda. Wanda was admitted to the hospital with a variety of age-related health concerns. Over the three weeks she spent inpatient, I would discover that she was kind and caring, she had loved others well and was loved well by others, and she was a woman of deep faith.

Wanda had one wish – to take her last breath at home. Arrangements were made and the time had come to transport Wanda. I arrived with my supervising therapist to administer a treatment to assist with the transport home. I began my pre-treatment assessment as I had done numerous times over the previous weeks, chatting briefly with Wanda, getting a pulse, and prepping supplies. And just as she had done before, Wanda would hold my hand as I listened to her breathing. Little did I know that as she took my hand in hers, this time would be different. I was being invited into a thin space, a sacred place of divine presence.

A couple normal breaths. Then a pause. A deep inhalation. A loving squeeze of my hand. I looked into Wanda’s eyes. She looked back. A peace came upon her. For a moment, we communed with one another and with God. Contentment. Peace. Shalom.

The presence of God in our lives happens all around. In the first inhalation of a newborn. In the ordinary breath of everyday life. And, in the last exhalation – nestled in a hospital bed or nailed upon a cross.

Breathe. Give thanks. And bask in the glory of God’s love.

-Pastor Ken

Everyday Anointing

When I worked at the Erie Clinic in Waukegan, I had a patient who had been homeless for over a decade. For many, homelessness is related to long-standing addiction or mental illness. But in the case of this man, whom I’ll call Vince, I’m not sure what the backstory was. Vince had long since beaten addiction. He was good-natured and pleasant, a favorite client among staff at PADS Lake County. He dutifully brought his long-term medications to each appointment so that we could review them together, and he generally took good care of himself, apart from smoking, which was something he had no interest in giving up. But Vince’s toenails were thickened and gnarled, and he had a hard time cutting them. The toenails, it turns out, were a blessing for me. I don’t have the resources to treat poverty, but I can use toenail sheers and could offer him a service more useful than another reminder to quit smoking.

The scripture passage this week about Mary Magdalene anointing Jesus’s feet reminded me of my appointments with Vince. At each 3-month follow-up, I’d kneel in front of him to care for his feet, while I listened to him share about his day-to-day life.

One definition of the word anoint is to ceremonially confer a holy office upon another. But I think in those appointments, I was the one granted something holy. I felt the presence of God in the company of this gentle person, who trusted me with his toes. He was God reminding me to be humble, reminding me that I live in a fragile bubble of privilege, reminding me that love is simple, and that it becomes transformational when we care for another.

-Frances Baxley

Recap of Mary & Martha’s dinner by an anonymous member of JC’s entourage. - A 21st Century Translation

Can we be honest…..this was a really weird party…

…..we’ve all been to some strange ones in the last few years….but this is up there…. Maybe first place.

Keep in mind, I was there when JC fed a village with two fish and five loaves….and ended up with twelve baskets of leftovers…

Oh and the wedding where JC conjured up gallons of the finest Napa cabernet from the water jugs….I was there.

JC leads-We follow…..I’m on board 100%…

But sometimes I wish we could be a little more normal and go to Panera like other religious groups.

We’d been hiding out in the wilderness near Ephraim. After JC raised Lazarus some of the powers to be weren’t too pleased….

Ephraim….you’ve been there?…You’re not missing much….and I’m not really a wilderness guy.

So Mary & Martha decide to throw a big feast for JC because of what he did for their brother and we’re all invited.

….and this thing is going to be great….these people have the budget to throw a real party and we are finally in for a treat….

It’s in Bethany….yes that Bethany, two miles from Jerusalem.

Best suburb and we’re going to the biggest house on the best street (Matthew looked it up and told me). I’ve got to figure out what these people do for a living…

Walking up Peter yells out:

“Ohhh yea boys….We’re eating well tonight” while slugging a disciple in the shoulder. JC shoots him a look and he pipes down.

We walk in, and the house is unbelievable…. I’d seen it from the outside but…wow….they have spared no expense. I want to see the upstairs, but the party is down here. Maybe I’ll wander up later ‘looking for the bathroom’.

It’s a small group but the attendees are a who’s-who of Bethany society… I feel a little underdressed and self-conscious….but we’re with the guest of honor so I’ll mingle.

Lazarus is in the corner with some friends. What should I say to him? His sisters have always been big supporters of JC’s ministry.

“Lazarus, thanks for having us…..your coloring looks much better than last time I….ummm…saw you….when you were dead…. Ahhh…How are you feeling?…

I’m such an Idiot… why did I say that?

JC walks over, sits down and starts to eat and talk with Lazarus…..I’m bailed out.

“Good to catch up, I’m going to top off my drink…” and I wander away.

Lazarus’ sister, Martha, is busy in the kitchen.

Actually she’s busy directing the cooks, servers and sommelier what she wants done. I don’t want to bother her. I’ve never seen so much staff in one house, I think they outnumber the guests.

At this point I see Martha and Lazarus’ other sister....Mary.

Mary has always been my favorite. Tonight she’s radiant, in her finest and all made up for the party. Hair, nails, dress, makeup, jewelry, she looks like she just stepped off the runway.

Shoot….am I staring?

I head over to talk with Mary but she’s carrying something and walking like she’s on a mission.

Looking down I see she’s carrying a 500ml bottle of Chanel - Eau De Nard No 5.

I double take, I had no idea they made it in a 500ml size. No one I know can even afford the 25ml. (Matthew looked it up later and told me it retails for $78,000 - equal to the median annual household income.)

I’m thinking it’s a party favor for JC, a ‘hey thanks for helping Lazarus out of his jam’ sort of thing.

A bit of a weird gift for a guy who’s just been hanging out in the wilderness….but ok she wanted to do something nice.

Instead, Mary heads over to JC and dumps the whole thing….every last ounce…every last $4600 per oz….ounce….on the man’s feet!

The bottle glugs out. The nard runs all over. Hits the floor in a puddle. The scent hits me from across the room. Just the molecules in my nose were probably worth a couple hundred bucks.

I’m sick, the crowd is in shock. Did that really just happen? Maybe we can scoop one or two ounces off the floor and sell them to cover our expenses.

Can you return 23ml of a 500ml bottle?

Can’t get more awkward?....Oh, that’s what I thought.

Right then Mary…..belle of the ball Mary…Perfectly made-up Mary. Mary....who should have been talking with me at this very moment, gets down on her knees....unpins her perfect coif and starts wiping JC’s feet with her hair.

We should go. We should all just go, no excuses just slip out, I’m ready.

Adding embarrassment to the awkwardness, Old Judas - hand in the till - Iscariot suddenly blurts out:

“Ehhh…Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor…blah blah blah.”

My emotions flash to anger....Maybe we were all thinking it…but you didn’t have to say it….. Grifty McGrifterson….. Now we’ve just insulted our hosts.

Does JC know this guy is a thieving snake? Of course he does, he’s JC.

Then why does he continue to put up with him? Right then something JC said struck me:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind”

Mary was giving extravagantly. Mary was giving the very best she had without reservation.

How often have I failed to give my best to God?

Maybe my hand isn’t in the money bag, like Judas, but how many times have I given what’s left over vs what is his.

What’s almost good enough vs the best I have and yet JC continues to put up with me.

-Joel Staffilino