"Teach the Children" by Mary Oliver

Teach the children. We don't matter so much,

but the children do. Show them daisies and

the pale hepatica.

Teach them the taste of sassafras and

wintergreen. The lives of the blue sailors,

mallow, sunbursts, the moccasin flowers. And

the frisky ones--inkberry, lamb's-quarters,

blueberries. And the aromatic ones-rosemary,

oregano.

Give them peppermint to put in their pockets

as they go to school. Give them the fields

and the woods and the possibility of the

world salvaged from the lords of profit.

Stand them in the stream, head them

upstream, rejoice as they learn to love this

green space they live in, its sticks and leaves

and then the silent, beautiful blossoms.

Attention is the beginning of devotion.

Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as

long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With

growth into adulthood, responsibilities

claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn't

choose them, I don't fault them, but it took

time to reject them. Now in the spring I kneel,

I put my face into the packets of violets, the

dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-

ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don't

keep my attention on eternity. May I be the

tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny

but useful. May I stay forever in the stream.

May I look down upon the windflower and the

bull thistle and the coreopsis with the

greatest respect.

In/To

Presence is a concept with a lot of cultural currency. It’s the stated goal of most every meditation session or yoga class. It’s the expressed hope of therapists as they counsel couples to attend to one other’s needs. Presence is so present, in fact, that the word seems in danger of becoming cliche.

One way of listening again for its meaning is to pay attention to the preposition that follows the noun. Most of us are familiar with the exhortation to be present IN the moment. To dwell fully in whatever situation we find ourselves. This is the type of presence exhibited by Mary in this week’s scripture. The scene of her washing Jesus’ feet is filled with perfumed scent, tactile sensation, restful pause. While busy Martha bustles around, Mary stops to immerse herself in the Divine Presence at her table. To be fully present IN a moment, it seems to me, is to be slowed down and open enough to receive the God who is right in front of us. Not easy.

And then there is present TO. In this other common use of the word, we are encouraged to see the needs of the other. A doctor who is present to their patient listens carefully and looks up from the computer screen. A friend who is present to us simply shows up when needed. In these situations, presence is gift that comes with no expected return. It is a simple and radical act of love. God’s love enacted toward the other.

Neither of these types of presence – in or to – comes easily in our modern society. Both require slowing and the discipline of attention. As Erin observed this Sunday, both require letting go of productivity and expectation in favor of being wholly (or holy!) surprised. To be present is to relinquish control, recognizing there are larger forces at work. To be present is simply to be.

I feel like somehow, even before smart phones, Jesus knew this was always going to be hard for us. That we were always going to be flitting off elsewhere, fretting over the past or planning out the future. Perhaps this is why, at some point, he boils it down. Two commandments, he tells us, that’s all. Be present IN: love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. Be present TO: love your neighbor as yourself. No further instructions. Nothing about stopping or starting, making or managing. Just two simple requests, two ways of being. And from this, all else will follow.

-Susie Pratt

Prodigal Love

When I think of the prodigal son the theme that comes to mind is love.

One of the great things about having a supportive parent, friend or spouse, is that you know that they are going to be in your corner, loving you all the time. This is also true with our relationship to God. God is always in our corner, always ready to lift us up and support us and this is beautifully portrayed in the parable of the prodigal son.

As much as we hate to admit it, we are that younger son a lot of the time. We often sin, forsaking our Father, giving into our desires, but it's up to us to ask for forgiveness. It is our choice to come before our Father and say “Lord forgive me for I have sinned,” or as the parable says “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” 10 times out of 10 God will embrace you because he knows that we will mess up, yet he loves us anyway.

One of the greatest blessings we have is our ability to think and act freely. This freedom we’ve been talking about and the cultivation of it is important in our relationship with God. For example, the older son chose his father all throughout his life. Then when the younger son came back the father threw a celebration, but the older son was angry and reasonably so. However, we have to remember that it wasn't a matter of which son the father loved more, it was the rescue of the younger son that caused the feast to occur. God loves us all equally so even if we are the obedient and loyal son, we are still cherished. It is those who stray from the path that we must pray for. It is those who give into other idols and reject God that we must care for. Their redemption should indeed be praised for in the words of the parable “he was lost and now is found.

We thank you Lord for our freedom and our ability to choose you. We thank you for being a light in the darkness and a solid foundation during the storms of life. Help us to be that same light, to utilize our freedom to help others. Let us pray for those who are the prodigal son right now, that they may find their way back to their loving father. Unworthy and yet accepted anyway. Let the same be true for us, both when we abide by you and when we fall to our own unhealthy desires. When we are the older son and the younger son. So go out into the world knowing that you will mess up, but you have a confidant that loves you always. No matter how big that mess up was, God the Father will forgive you.

-Jackson Halliday

Freedom

“No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” – John 15:13

There I sat. The new Director of Student Ministries at First Presbyterian Church of Wilmette. It was my first week and I was excited about my new work. The community seemed excited, too. We just weren’t quite sure where my office would be! So, there I sat, working at table in Rev. Raska’s office while we sorted out office space.

As we talked through a variety of responsibilities and possibilities, Rev. Raska said she would be attending a meeting the following week in Rogers Park, and I was welcome to join her. Never one to turn down an adventure, I said, “Sure, I’d be glad to come along!”

A week later, there we sat, in a medium-sized multi-purpose room at the Jonquil Hotel, an SRO operated by Good News Partners, listening to partnership opportunities. Between the text messages popping up on his phone, James, a community member and part-time employee of GNP, shared about new ministries he was doing in the neighborhood. He seemed quite distracted. A bit unprofessional, I thought. Eventually, and still in the middle of business, James excused himself. I was a bit surprised.

It turns out there had been a shooting in the neighborhood. James, among many other roles he filled in the community, had become a guide, mentor, and mediator within the neighborhood. He left our meeting in hopes of quelling a possible retaliation. Violence in return for violence. Thankfully, he was successful.

Some years have passed. James is now the Director of his own nonprofit, C24/7, and a good friend, dare I say brother. Rev. Raska is now Erin, Senior Minister at GUC, and my dear friend and colleague. And numerous lives have been changed, possibly saved, because James, and others like him, choose to lay down their life for another, figuratively and, quite possibly one day, literally.

Why?

James’ story is his to tell. But from my vantage point, the answer is this… freedom. One thing I know for certain about my friend, my brother in Christ, James, is that he is certain that Christ welcomed him with open arms. That Christ celebrated his return. And James now lives into the freedom that God has offered through Jesus Christ because he is also confident that Christ is waiting to welcome all with open arms.

Last Sunday, Erin shared the story of the Prodigal Son. Some days we’re the older brother. Some days, the younger. Most days we’re a bit of each. Every day we are received with open arms by the God who frees us all. Frees us to live for God and for our neighbor.

How will you live into your freedom today?

-Pastor Ken

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Come to the Table of Grace

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” -Luke 15:1-2

“Joel, something you should understand, we all need IRS agents, but no one wants to have drinks with an IRS agent except other agents.” I was 21 years old in a new city. My friend, Patrick, and his father, Tom, were also new to town. Tom was in the last post of a 30 year career with the IRS. He’d moved often as he worked his way up and was now Chief of the local branch.

Chief, but a bit lonely in our new hometown.

Patrick and I were also a bit lonely…..and a bit broke. Tom would buy us beer at the informal (not agency sponsored, approved or reimbursed) IRS happy hours. Most of the attendees, outside of Patrick and I, were other agents somewhere in their own 30 year journey. Odd mix of friends, but the price was right and we enjoyed some laughs and companionship. Two drinks in, this group of IRS employees would start telling IRS Agent jokes:

“What do you call twelve IRS Agents up to their necks in cement…not enough cement”.

A lighthearted laugh at themselves, and with us, before Patrick and I would split off for other engagements.

We think of “tax collectors” like our IRS agents. Civil servants doing an unpopular but necessary job. Some more jovial than others. Maybe not your first choice in social company but honest and respectable.

The tax collectors in Luke are quite different. Think of a mix of internet con artists, burglars, collaborators, and loan sharks and you’re getting close. Ostracized traitors, working with the Roman occupation to inform on their society’s economic system.

The Romans demanded a certain amount of taxes from each area. But, if the tax collector could collect more from the population and keep it for himself, that was fine with the Romans. If he could squeeze out a lot more and get very rich…. that was also fine with Rome. Just don’t squeeze so much that you start a revolt. Rome didn’t like revolts, that was one of the few ways a tax collector could lose.

If the collector said someone wasn’t paying their fair share (or maybe wasn’t paying enough of an unfair share) it could set off terrible consequences, with centurions acting as the enforcement branch. 10% penalty? Mandatory withholding next tax year? A public flogging or selling family members into slavery was more likely.

Earlier in Luke, we heard a story of Galileans being slaughtered while worshiping because they were paying “too much” to the church and not enough to Rome. One of the guests at Jesus’ table was probably complicit in this act. If not, he certainly would have known the coworkers who tipped off the Romans. He probably would have used this massacre as a fearful example of why everyone should pay up….to avoid any trouble.

I’m starting to see the Pharisees’ point….this guy is the lowest of the low. He doesn’t deserve to be here. Why’s he at “my” dinner?

Christ tells three parables culminating in The Prodigal Son, knowing that we all need to hear that all are invited to Christ’s table.

We are all the younger brother dishonoring the father. We are all the graceless older brother. We are both tax extortionist and Pharisee. We are, but Christ still invites us all to the table.

-Joel Staffilino

Why?

I make my way to Pelican Bay State Prison at the top of the state of California, near the Oregon border. The Catholic chaplain, a gentle soul named Sam, has made the arrangements. Pelican Bay has long been considered the repository of the "worst of the worst." It has forever been the last stop of all the stops. Sam walks me through a segregated unit, one-man cells, holding the most "incorrigible." He announces me to the cell ahead: "It's Father Greg from Homeboy Industries." Many become little kids in Juvenile Hall again. "G-Dog, remember me. You used to throw Mass at Central ... at Eastlake?" After Sam would announce me, I would step up and carry on a brief conversation and end with a blessing ....

I celebrate Mass in the gym on A-Yard. Sam has secured a large group to gather and has also been allowed to take pictures, which is not a permission typically granted. After Mass, inmates pose with me-one, four, sometimes groups of twelve or more. I meet a guy named Louie with every inch of his face covered in tattoos, a calling card for a seriously traumatized human being. Tattoos like this can often be a "Keep Away" sign, meant to keep all comers guessing as to the mental stability of the tattooed one. Louie "has all day," sentenced forever and will never leave prison alive. He is goofy and charming, and not at all off-putting. He becomes the phantom, ever-present photobomber. He manages to insinuate himself into EVERY picture. Though never invited, he steps into the shot, and no one rebuffs him. He's·just a tender part of the scenery.

As Sam and I walk from the gym after Mass, I mention Louie and laugh about our intrepid photobomber. Sam tells me that some months earlier, he had planned a concert by Eric Genuis. Eric has performed at Carnegie Hall (and later, at Homeboy Industries). He plays the piano and has a couple others who accompany on strings. Sam had "ducated" (secured permission) for two hundred inmates, but only sixty showed up and Sam was a bit disappointed. Eric had planned to play for forty-five minutes, then engage in a question-and-answer session for fifteen minutes. He began to play, and something descended on these folks gathered in the same gym where I had celebrated the Eucharist. There was a reverent stillness thick in the air. Inmates and guards alike were held in this music's spell. It was the most glorious thing Sam had ever witnessed at Pelican Bay. He looked at the prisoners and soon they were all sobbing. He saw that the guards were discreetly flicking tears. The magnificent music had detonated some release so welcome and unexpected.

Eric finished and turned to his stunned audience and asked if there were any questions. There was only silence for some time. Then Louie, our photobomber, rose. He had something to say but he was still crying so hard, it was momentarily a struggle for him to locate his question. He could only utter one word: "Why?"

Eric began to cry as well and said, "Because you are deserving. You are worthy of beauty and music. And because ... there is no difference between you and me." And here, I suppose, is the faith that saves ... when we are anchored in love, tethered to a sustaining God and ever mindful of our undeniable goodness. That's why.

- an excerpt from the book, “Forgive Everyone Everything” by Father Greg Boyle, founder of Homeboy Industries

Forgiveness and Freedom

This week’s scripture is the well-known tale of the Prodigal Son. As previously mentioned, I’m an oldest child so this one never sits entirely well with me. That said, I get it. I see the point. Good to forgive and all that. Message received.

Until Erin preached this week and (spoiler alert) revealed that the story is less about forgiveness and more about…freedom? Yes, freedom. Freedom to live differently, liberated from shoulds and either/ors. Freedom to embrace complexity. It was a great message because it made the point (ever so subtly) that benefits of forgiveness accrue not so much to the forgiven as to the one doing the forgiving.

In his book World Within a Song, Jeff Tweedy of the band Wilco explains how this works. In an early chapter, Tweedy confesses that as a rocker who came of age in the 1980s, he spent decades actively hating the ABBA song “Dancing Queen” simply because it was a product of the disco era. Then one day a few years ago, while meandering through the grocery store, he heard “Dancing Queen” playing from a speaker and was bowled over by the “exuberant sadness” of the song. Before he knew what was happening, he had fallen for it.

Here’s Tweedy on his change of heart: “Melodies as pure and evocative as the one in “Dancing Queen” don’t come along every day. I’m sad for every moment I missed loving this song…I truly recommend spending some time looking for a song you might have unfairly maligned. It feels good to stop hating something.” Tweedy continues with some thoughts specifically on forgiveness, “Music is a good place to start if you’re interested in forgiveness. For yourself, mostly, I assume. Because records can’t really change much over time, but we sure can, and do. Better late than never.”

The grace that God extends to us begins as forgiveness and ultimately blossoms into freedom. When we enact this same grace toward one another, letting go of past grudges and perceived wrongs, we open ourselves up to new joys. Liberated from the weight of our angers and griefs, we are set free.

Perhaps, this week, we can follow Tweedy’s advice. Perhaps we can stop hating something or some group or some idea simply because we are used to doing so. Perhaps we can forgive someone without the expectation that they will change, but the hope – instead – that in the forgiving, we ourselves will be changed.

- Susie Pratt

The Gift of Creation

At the very beginning of the Bible, in Genesis, God created the heavens and the earth. He creates the land, the seas, the stars, the animals, and lastly mankind. The order of creation is incredibly important. Without the creations before us, we would be unable to survive. Human lives and the land we live on are interconnected in every single moment of our lives. However, as a result of the many technological advancements that we humans have made, we seem to have lost our once inseparable bond with the land on which we live. The argument could be made that this happened once a majority of people stopped cultivating their own food, or when we moved into cities, distancing ourselves from the wild. Either way, there is a clear disconnection between society today and the natural world around us.

Living in a world of seemingly endless human creation stops us from recognizing the beauty of God's creation that we live within every day. Our disconnection from the land is cause for many of today’s problems: all types of pollution, famine, war, and many types of unrest. Although I could go on and on about how we have ravaged the land on which we were born, I will not do so. Instead, we must focus on why God calls us to love and appreciate nature. Consider the intricacies of food webs, water and elemental cycles, and simply how our bodies function. God created for us a perfect world that we have decided to tear apart for our own (mostly) selfish reasons.

To love the land is to love God, to love each other, to love everything that lives on this earth. To feel the power of God’s presence in the land is where my journey with God truly began. On my confirmation trip, at the top of a small mountain in Idaho, my confirmation group was talking about Genesis, and how God created this beautiful place. We each went to silent prayer. I was in a clearing overlooking the valley and the surrounding mountains. In the midst of the worst wildfires in the history of the northwest, I saw rain. And when the rain stopped, I saw a double rainbow. For me, the closest experience I have ever had with God was feeling his power through his greatest creation, the land. As children of God, we all have an obligation to love and respect the land on which we live.

-Dylan Jeppe

A Holy Mess

As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who was blind from birth.

“While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6 After he said this, he spit on the ground, made mud with the saliva, and smeared the mud on the man’s eyes. 7 Jesus said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (this word means sent). So the man went away and washed. When he returned, he could see. – John 9:1, 6-7

Growing up, I spent plenty of time with my hands in the dirt. Whether it was helping my dad tend the soil of our vegetable garden or making mud pies with friends, I enjoyed a childhood of running around barefoot in the summer and getting dirty.

Adolescence wasn’t much cleaner. My friends and I spent hours playing basketball on a neighbor’s gravel driveway. By the end of the day, we all ended up looking like a real-life version of the Peanuts character Pigpen! And my favorite memories of high school cross-country practice include ‘mud runs’ – 5 or 6 miles along the Little Calumet River after it had overrun its banks. Imagine 20 high school kids covered head-to-toe in mud. Thankfully, our coach was always glad to hose us off in his back yard!

As an adult, I still appreciate the soil. A few years back, I was rafting down the New River. We were between rapids, letting the current take us downriver, enjoying the beauty of God’s amazing creation. The guide told us that soil samples from the bed of the New River share such similar qualities with that of the Nile River bed that scientists believe they may have once shared a closer connection. I’m not sure if his geology is accurate. I don’t need to know. The idea itself invited me to a deeper appreciation of the interconnectedness of God’s creation. That was enough. I was, and remain, in awe.

Jesus makes a variety of “I am” statements in John’s Gospel. These are meant to proclaim his identity as the Great I AM. It is no coincidental phrase. And when he discovers a man born blind, what does he do? He gets his hands in the dirt! According to Jesus, healing can be a messy business.

This past Sunday, Rev. Nathan Stucky invited us to consider how God’s stories and soil stories – our stories – are intertwined. In an age of great scientific knowledge, we can easily be drawn to separate the things of the earth from the things of heaven. Soil is the realm of messy things and among the heavens dwell the holy things. Perhaps Rev. Stucky is correct – messy things can be holy, and holy things can be messy.

So, when life seems to be a little messy, look for the holy presence. When you feel you are in the presence of the holy, don’t be too surprised if it’s a little messy. And remember to get your hands dirty from time to time!

-Pastor Ken