Blog Articles

It is past time to listen to God

February 25, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

He has told you, O mortal, what is good;

and what does the Lord require of you

but to do justice,

to love kindness

and to walk humbly with your God?

(Micah 6:8)

In just one week, the U.S. government could come to a crashing halt.

Really.

All because our Senators and Representatives have not bothered to do their jobs.

Since receiving, in January 2010 – more than a year ago, mind you – President Obama’s proposed budget, Congress has managed to pass no spending bills. That’s right. Not one. All our representatives have managed to do is pass continuing resolutions, leaving for tomorrow what they could have done today – or yesterday, for that matter.

I’ve been trying to figure out what will happen next week, when the government does shut down. You can go on-line and find all kinds of analyses about who will be considered essential (um, our representatives, the leaders of government, claim this for themselves) and who will not be (um, those would be the people who actually do the work of government). The people who make sure Americans get paid? Non-essential. The people who make sure contractors get paid? Non-essential. The people who fill out the forms that ensure that Americans receive their benefits? Non-essential.

This list goes on and on, but you get the idea. In the minds of our representatives, they are essential. Most every else? Not so much.

So I wonder, as I have many times before, how our representatives are meeting God’s injunction to us? How is shutting down the government over ideology doing justice? How is it loving kindness?

\And how, pray tell, could anyone think that this massive power play – mirrored by the one playing out in Wisconsin right now – has anything to do with walking humbly with God? (Posturing instead of caring for the people entrusted to them shows a distinct lack of humility, I believe.)

In all this grandstanding, no real efforts are being made to trim the budget or lessen the deficit, because only small portions of the budget are actively in play. And the parts that have been put into play? Why, those would be the parts in which the poor, the needy and the forgotten are cared for. Those would be the parts in which women are treated with respect and dignity, in which children who have had the bad fortune to be born into poverty are fed, in which our veterans are cared for by a grateful nation that thanks them for their service. Those are the parts the so-called fiscal conservatives are chopping. Defense? Never on the table. Poor people who don’t contribute to campaigns? They are being ignored and forgotten.

Jim Wallis over at Sojourners wrote an excellent article yesterday on the God’s Politics blog (click here or look under “Articles you should read” for the link). In it, he points out that all this posturing is not about money, not about deficits, but about politics, ideology and hypocrisy.

In closing, Mr. Wallis writes:

“Let me offer a word to those who see this critique as partisan. I’ve had good friendships with Republican members of Congress, but not the kind who get elected by their party anymore. But let’s be clear, when politicians attack the poor, it is not partisan to challenge them; it is a Christian responsibility.

“This is wrong, this is unjust, this is vile, and this must not stand. Next week, thanks to your support, look for a full-page ad in Politico signed by faith leaders and organizations across the country that asks Congress a probing question: “What would Jesus cut?” These proposed budget cuts are backwards, and I don’t see how people of faith can accept them. And we won’t.”

Our elected leaders are not doing their jobs. Instead, they are playing games – and getting paid, handsomely, to do so.

Just as we want these leaders to listen closely to what God has to say through the prophet Micah, so we need to listen as well. If we want justice done, if we truly love kindness, and if we are willing to walk humbly with our God, then we need to step up as well. That’s what has been happening in Wisconsin, Ohio and Indiana for the past several days: The people have turned out in force, claiming their voices, claiming their rights.

If we want to avoid another government shutdown fiasco – which, by the way, will ultimately cost us billions, according to estimates – then we need to speak up. We need to make sure our Representatives and Senators understand that it is time for them to set aside their agendas and ideologies and do the right thing, which is to be responsible, to be caring, and to serve the people entrusted to them.

Shutting down the government serves no purpose other than to harm those most in need, while those with the most suffer not at all.

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Filed Under: Blog Articles, Featured Story, Government, Personal Writings, Scriptures Tagged With: Budget, Government shutdown, Humility, Jim Wallis, Justice, kindness, Micah 6:8, Sojourners

Good news/bad news on missionaries

February 22, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

Titus Presler has an excellent commentary on the good and bad news about Episcopal missionaries. The good news: We, the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society, have missionaries in the field (yeah!). The bad news: Not so many, and the ones we have and are not well-supported.

As World Mission Sunday approaches (6 March), take a look at what Titus has to say, and think about what it means for The Episcopal Church to be a missionary society.

The column can be found here.

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Filed Under: Blog Articles, Mission, Missionaries, World Mission Tagged With: Episcopal Church, Mission Sunday, Missionaries, World Mission

The art of the possible

February 22, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

“Politics,” I said to a 20-something friend recently, “is the art of the possible. It is not evil. It is about how we work together to do the most good for the greatest number of people at any given time.”

The 20-something was surprised.

“What did you say ‘politics’ is?” she asked.

“It is the art of the possible,” I told her. “I may not get everything I want, and you may not get everything you want, but in the end, if it is done correctly, if we are faithful, together we achieve the best result possible at that moment.”

The 20-something was excited to learn this. She had never thought of politics in that light before, and frankly, I’m not surprised. She’s grown up in an age when politics is so partisan that it’s hard to remember that both sides of any given argument are even discussing the same thing, much less striving to work together.

As I watch what is happening in this country right now – particularly the budget debates taking place in Congress and the union-government showdown in Wisconsin – I wonder if those who are professional politicians remember the definition of their jobs, to care for the people.

Instead of standing up and taking responsibility for what they have done, veteran lawmakers in Congress pretend they have had nothing to do with the last 10 years of running up the deficit to the point that it endangers all that we do, and now threaten to slash and burn not just the budget, but many of the good things our government does.

Newcomers to Congress act as though they have no responsibility for any program that existed before they arrived inWashington, and that they do not care for the outcome of any action they take … as long as the deficit is reduced.

Now, threats swirl throughout Washington about another federal government shutdown, which we haven’t seen since the mid-1990s. No one seems concerned about the economic impact of a shutdown, either on the government, on the people of this land who would be directly affected, or even on the hot-dog vendors on the street, who would lose their income as well.

The Speaker of the House, when told that his recommended budget actions would mean the loss of hundreds of thousands of federal jobs – this at a time when the unemployment rate is still at 9 percent – shrugs his shoulders and says, “So be it.” (Does the Speaker know that this is the English translation of “Amen,” which comes from the Hebrew Scriptures? Is he aware that in saying, “So be it,” he is endorsing “job-killing,” which he claims to be fighting?)

I think it is safe to say that every single one of us in this country knows that we have to do something about the budget and the deficit. But this slash-and-burn approach has nothing to do with the art of the possible.

Instead of working together to achieve the best possible results, both sides seemed locked in a battle of egos, with the American people suffering the consequences.

How does intransigence fulfill the art of the possible? What good does it do to continuously say, “Read my lips”? (Doesn’t that remind you of children on the playground, saying, “Am too! Am not!”)

Leaders do not lay down ultimatums while simultaneously refusing to listen to anyone. Leaders make the hard decisions necessary to care for the most people – that, after all, is government’s purpose, to make secure the lives of the people.

There’s a hard-and-fast deadline coming up that means that something has to be done, and soon. If our representatives bothered to work together, they could achieve the possible.

We know that is possible to cut spending, to balance the budget, to lower the deficit, because all of that happened in the Clinton administration. Of course, first we had to go through that shutdown during that same administration.

So what would it take to move from stubborn “Heads-I-win-tails-you-lose” gamesmanship that serves no one to a dance that actually will lead to the best possible solutions for everyone?

How much longer will it take for everyone to realize that all things indeed are possible – but only when we remember to follow the instructions we have received from God, and not from polls, not from lobbyists, not from people more concerned with advancing themselves at the costs of others?

Is there waste in the federal budget? Absolutely. Some of the rules are so convoluted that of course we are paying too much to implement them.

But it is not faithful, to God or to the people, to slash and burn simply to make a point, or to get back at someone you don’t like.

This country right now is faced with the ultimate opportunity to achieve the possible, to work together for the good of the people.

After all, isn’t that why those in office ran for office? So they could care for the people of this land?

McClatchy-Tribune New Service, 2011

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Filed Under: Blog Articles, Personal Writings Tagged With: Art of the possible, Budget, Congress, Deficits, Government shutdown, Heads-I-win-tails-you-lose, Intransigence, Job-killing, Lawmakers, Opportunities, Politics, Security, Ultimatums, Wisconsin protests

Going Beyond the Law … to Love

February 14, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

Matthew 5:21-37

“You have heard that it was said … but I say to you …”

Welcome to Let’s-Get-Legal Sunday.

At least, that’s what it sounds like, doesn’t it?

Jesus is still preaching his magnificent Sermon on the Mount, that marvelous sermon in which he blesses those who have been labeled outcasts, and challenges the people to be God’s salt and light in the world.

And suddenly, he goes all legal on us and jacks up the intensity of an already detailed, already limiting, already very, very serious Law … that’s “Law” with a capital “L.”

“You have heard that it was said,” Jesus says, discussing murder, adultery and swearing falsely. (And just to let you know, Jesus stays on this legal kick for another week, so don’t think you’ve heard the last of this.) Then, Jesus continues, “but I say to you …” And he lays down a whole new interpretation of the Law-with-a-capital-L, one that is much stricter than anything anyone has ever heard before.

Murder is wrong, he says, quoting the Law. But so is treating people badly, thus elevating being angry at or insulting someone to new heights.

Adultery is wrong, he says. But so is even thinking less-than-pure thoughts about another person, he tells us. And if any part of our body causes us to sin, he adds, tear it out or cut it off (even though if you do that, according to the Law-with-a-capital-L, you can’t get into heaven, because you can’t be deformed!).

Swearing falsely – telling lies in legal situations – is wrong, he says. But now, under this new interpretation of the Law, all swearing – all taking of oaths – is wrong!

What’s going on here? How did Jesus go from been blessing people and healing them and preaching the Good News of Salvation to making most Pharisees and Sadducees, whose lives are wrapped up in fulfilling the law – every jot and tittle of it – look like legal wimps?

This is not the Jesus most of us want. We want the gentle Jesus. We want the healing Jesus. We want the Jesus who raises us from the dead.

We do not want the Jesus who tells us that we who are trying to follow the already difficult Law, are not doing enough, that even our thoughts fall short of God’s laws for us.

• • •

There’s a new TV show on the USA network called “Fairly Legal,” in which a young lawyer becomes a mediator, using her skills at negotiation to solve problems that normally would end up in the courtroom. In one of the teasers for the show, the main character is seen talking on the phone, saying something like, “The law! The law! The law! What is it with you people and the law?!”

And of course, in the course of 42 or so minutes, this young woman manages to negotiate her way to miracles.

The young man, a college student on scholarship, who is going to jail for his involvement in a car crash? She gets him off. (Turns out he didn’t cause the accident after all.)

The two drivers on the edge of a knock-down, drag-out fight in the streets of San Francisco? She gets them to apologize for each other.

The aging but still powerful father who can’t recognize that his son is a good man, ready to take over the family business? She achieves reconciliation and a major reorganization of that family business … all in 42 minutes.

If you watch the show, you think to yourself: Yeah, right. That’s not going to happen. It would take a miracle …!

And yet … isn’t that what Jesus does? Take impossible situations and do miracles?

That’s what Jesus is doing in this morning’s Gospel … he’s taking impossible situations and making miracles out of them.

Jesus is trying to show us that the Law-with-a-capital-L does not exist for itself – but for us.

Meaning: The Law is not about how to live your life within legal constraints.

The Law, Jesus is telling us, is there to help us live together in relationship – with God and with each other. (Can’t you just hear Jesus saying, right about now, “The Law! The Law! The Law! What is it with you people and the Law?!”)

The late Verna Dozier, an incredible lay theologian of the Church, taught that God’s desire, God’s dream for us, is that we become “a good creation of a friendly world of friendly folk beneath a friendly sky.”[1]

Dozier is using the word “friend” the same way Jesus did in John’s Gospel, when he said, “I no longer call you my slaves but my friends.” “Friend” is a theological term for Dozier.

And the only way we can become that good creation of friendly folk beneath that friendly sky is if we go beyond the Law – to love.

God’s true desire for us is not that we fulfill the Law.

God’s true desire for us is that we love.

For you see, we are created in God’s image, and that image my friends, is first and foremost one of love. We know this to be

true, because we know, without a doubt, that we are not necessary to God. God is necessary to us, we believe, but we are not necessary to God, because God was before we were, and God will be after we are, so God does not need us to exist in God’s very good creation.

Since we are not necessary, God had to have wanted us, God desired us into being, God loved us into being.

Michelangelo's Creation of Man

So we were created – each of us – in love.

And because we are Trinitarians, because we believe in God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. We believe in the community of the Trinitarian God.

Which means that we who were created in God’s very image of love were also created in God’s very image of community.

Which means … which means … that we are created in love and in community to live in love and community.

In the end, as it was in the beginning, we are created by love to love.

So when Jesus is upping the ante on the Law – when he’s giving an even harsher interpretation of the Law than anyone had previously heard – he isn’t turning into an über-Pharisee.

He’s reminding us, once again, that the Law was created to help us live as God’s beloved with and for God’s beloved.

He’s asking us, once again, to remember – every moment of our lives – that God loves us, and (and this is hard for some of us to hear some days) God loves everyone else just as much.

Professor David Lose of Luther Seminary in Minnesota tells us that:

Jesus intensifies the Law – not to force us to take it more seriously … but instead to push us to imagine what it would actually be like to live in a world where we honor each other as persons who are truly blessed and beloved of God. It’s not enough, Jesus says, to avoid murder (or adultery or anything else that is against the Law); you also have to treat each other with respect, not letting yourself fly off the handle in anger because that … demeans and diminishes God’s children.[2]

Fulfilling the Law – especially the Law on steroids[3] that Jesus proclaims today – is not about how closely you can toe the legal line for the sake of toeing the legal line.

That’s not enough, in Jesus’ mind. Jesus is calling us, as Professor Lose says, “to envision life in God’s kingdom as constituted not by obeying laws but rather by holding the welfare of our neighbors close to our hearts while trusting that they are doing the same for us.”[4]

Now that’s a tall order, isn’t it? Not only to care for our neighbors’ welfare, but trusting that they are doing the same for us?

When you think about it, that’s an even taller order than fulfilling the Law-on-steroids that we thought we were dealing with when we heard this morning’s Gospel.

Because it means that we have to put others first, and sometimes those others? The ones we are supposed to love? We don’t like them so much. And when we don’t like our neighbors, it’s easy not to love them. When we are afraid of them, it’s easy not to love them. When we don’t know them, it’s easy not to love them, or even care for them. And when we hate our neighbors – then it’s really easy not to love them.

But in God’s very good creation, in God’s friendly creation, whether we like someone, whether we are afraid of someone, whether we know someone, whether we hate someone – it’s not important.

Not in God’s eyes.

Because in God’s eyes, we are all beloved. The truth of the matter is that God loves each of us. God loves you … and you … … and you … … and you … … and you … … and you … … and you …

And because God loves each of you – because God loves each of us – God is asking us to love each other. To remember that the Law is there to help us love each other. That every moment of every day of our lives, we are called, first, last and always, to love.

Jesus is not on some kick this morning to elevate the Law to the point that none of us can achieve it.

Jesus is telling us, that yes, actually, we can fulfill the Law, every jot and tittle of it.

If – and only if – we remember to love.

I want to share with you with a prayer I found this week, the author of whom is unknown, but who nevertheless speaks wise words the echo Jesus’ preaching and that will send us out into the world … in love:

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.

Watch your words, for they become actions.

Watch your actions, for they become habits.

Watch your habits, for they become character.

Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny.

Amen.

————————

A sermon preached on the 6^th Sunday after the Epiphany, 13 February 2011, Year A, at St. Gabriel’s Episcopal Church, Leesburg, Va.

————————-

[1] Verna Dozier, The Dream of God: A Call to Return. (Cambridge, Mass.: Cowley Publications, 1988), p. 125.

[2] David Lose, Marbury E. Anderson Biblical Preaching Chair, Luther Seminary, on http://www.workingpreacher.org/dear_wp.aspx?article_id=452 with my addition.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

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Filed Under: Blog Articles, Sermons Tagged With: Character, Community, Desire, Destiny, Epiphany, Fairly Legal, God, Habits, Image of God, Jesus, Law, Love, Luther Seminary, Professor David Lose, Trinity, Verna Dozier

Salt and light. Precious and bright. Necessary and powerful.

February 14, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

Matthew 5:13-20

Last Monday, the U.S. government[1] issued new guidelines for how much salt we Americans should consume on any given day. The new recommendations are far more restrictive than they have been in the past, because of our country’s battle with obesity and heart disease, cutting us back to less than 1 teaspoon of salt per day.

In essence, the government is saying, quite bluntly: Stop eating so much salt! It is killing us!

And then we come to church this morning and we hear Jesus tell us that we are the salt of the earth!

So what exactly are we supposed to do?

Cut back on our salt?

Or be the salt?

This morning’s Gospel is a continuation of Jesus’ magnificent Sermon on the Mount – the second of five Sundays in which we hear this beautiful sermon (it’s not just the first 12 verses of chapter 5). Last week we heard those shocking beatitudes that showered blessings on those who all their lives had been told by society that they weren’t worth spit.

Today, Jesus continues to shock the people, telling them that not only are they not to consider themselves downtrodden, but that they are powerful … that they are necessary … that without them, God’s creation cannot be very good.

Today, Jesus proclaims, to the people then and to us now: You are the salt of the earth.

Now, in light of those warnings from the government, this may come across as an odd statement. But to the people listening to Jesus 2,000 years ago, it made perfect sense.

You see, in Jesus’ day, salt was not only necessary, it was priceless. Salt was hard to get. It was a controlled substance. It was a commodity so precious that it was used to pay Roman legionnaires (and hence we get the word “salary”) and to buy slaves (and here we learn the origin of the expression “not worth his salt”). Salt was so important in the ancient world that kingdoms rose and fell because of it (and if you remember your history, you know that was true right up to 1930, for it was through the great Salt March that Mahatma Gandhi began to break the back of British Raj in India). (from “The History of Salt.”)

Salt wasn’t just a condiment you added to your food to enhance flavors.

Salt was worth more than gold.

So when Jesus says to the people, “You are the salt of the earth,” he was saying to them – to us – that we are priceless.

Which is why Jesus adds that little caveat: “But if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

I know a lot of people wonder about this salt-losing-its-taste part. It’s been a topic of discussion for preachers all over the country this week, with many asking, “How can salt lose its taste?” If you want to see the discussions, just look on Facebook. Most of us know that in this day and age, in this country, at least, salt doesn’t go bad. You can put a box of Morton’s salt on your shelf – you remember Morton’s right? It’s the brand in the blue container with the little girl in a raincoat and hat and rain boots, holding an umbrella over her head? – you can put that box on your shelf, forget about it, come back 22 years later, and it will still be salty. I know; I’ve done this! Our salt doesn’t go bad, because it is sodium chloride – NaCl, for those of you who took chemistry.

But in the days when our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ walked the earth, the salt people used wasn’t sodium chloride. It was a rougher salt, a rawer salt, made from evaporated sea-water or water from the Dead Sea, or produced from rock, which, when exposed to the air could lose its saltiness.[3] And if you expose that kind of salt to even the tiniest bit of moisture, the salt turns rancid. It tastes like mildewed peanuts, actually – I know, because I lived in Sudan, where salt is still a precious commodity, and sometimes loses its flavor and sometimes becomes rancid.

How many of you use sea salt? That’s good – the federal government thanks you for that. How many of you who use sea salt like this (Mediterranean sea salt) know that it can go bad, that it has an expiration date on it? No? You didn’t know that? Check the label – it says “Best by 2013”).

So you see, salt indeed can lose its flavor.

To sum up what Jesus is saying to us this morning:

Salt is a precious gift that should not be allowed to go to waste.

And since we are the salt of the earth, that means that we are precious gifts who should not be allowed to go to waste either.

• • •

Jesus also clearly tells us that we are the light of the world, created not to be hidden under a bushel but to shine forth so brightly that others see us, and through us, give glory to God.

We are God’s gift in creation. And as God’s gift, we are supposed to shine – no, not merely to shine, but to blaze forth in the world – so that God’s gift can be seen, so that God’s gift can made manifest, so that God’s gift … the gift of love … can be known by all.

That’s why we were created, my friends.

To let God’s love be known.

Every moment … of every day … with every person we meet.

We are not created to indulge ourselves (which is why the government is trying to get us to cut back on our salt intake … too much of a good thing is a bad thing and we all know it).

We are created to make manifest, to incarnate God’s wild, radical, improbable, inexplicable, eternal … love.

That’s a pretty scary thought, isn’t it?

First we find out that we are precious gifts so important that kingdoms rise and fall, all because of us. Then we are told to take the gifts of who we are, created in the image of God, and blaze that image across all creation.

And make no mistake here: Jesus is not suggesting that he would like us to become salt. And he’s not recommending that perhaps if we feel like it, we should shine forth in the world.

Jesus is laying it on the line, telling us that, whether we like it or not, this is who we are: Salt and light. Precious and bright. Necessary and powerful.

Theologian Marianne Williamson, in her book A Return to Love, knows how scary it can be to hear these statements from Jesus.

“Our deepest fear,” she writes, “is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us; we ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’

“Actually,” Williamson writes, “who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born,” she says, “to manifest the glory of God that is within us.”[4]

Williamson is doing nothing more than echoing Jesus’ words to us today: The people he was addressing in that Sermon on the Mount? Remember them? The poor in spirit, the mourners, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful and pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, the reviled. … First Jesus tells them they are blessed, then he tells them they are precious … and powerful.

This is Jesus’ message to us as well.

We are precious.

And we are powerful.

Now before we let this message go to our heads, before we decide to overindulge ourselves on just how precious and powerful we are, remember that Jesus was very clear in his message:

All of our preciousness, all of our power, is given to us so that we can glorify God.

This isn’t about us.

It’s about God.

So what are we going to do?

How are we going to glorify God?

We have all the tools we need. We are, as Jesus says, salt and light. We are, as Marianne Williamson reminds us, brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous.

• • •

Yesterday, I presented a dear friend of mine at her ordination to the priesthood. At the end of the sermon, the preacher asked my friend to stand to receive what is called her “charge” as priest. The “charge” is the set of personal instructions a preacher gives to the person being ordained. It is a challenge, a caution and a commission, all rolled up into one.

Today, I would like to give you your charge – your challenge, your caution, your commission.

So I ask you now to stand, please, for it is the tradition of the Church that those being charged stand to receive it. Stand up, please, and I ask you to turn around and to look out the doors of this church, out into God’s very good creation, because the charge you are about to receive is not about you here in this place only. It is about the world in which you live and move and have your being.

This is your charge:

You are the salt of the earth. You are precious. Do not lose your flavor. Do not let it go to waste.

You are the light of the world. You are powerful. Do not hide your light. Do not let your power fade.

Take your salt … take your light … and go into the world, into God’s world, and use your gifts, which God has given you because God loves you, and make God’s love be known in all of God’s very good and beloved creation.

Go into the world, my friends.

Be salty.

Blaze your way through life.

Be brilliant and gorgeous and talented, and most of all, be fabulous.

Not for your sake.

But for God’s.

Amen.

Sermon preached at St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, College Park, Md., on the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, 6 February 2011, Year A.

——————————–

[1] U.S. Department of Agriculture and U.S. Department of Health and Human Services guidelines on salt intake, Jan. 31, 2011, via http://www.internetbits.com/diet-guide-issued-by-government-eat-less-salt/57392/.

[3] James M. Freeman, “Manners and Customs of the Bible,” p. 335, via http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Can_salt_lose_its_flavor

[4] Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles. (New York: HarperCollins, 1992).

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Filed Under: Blog Articles Tagged With: Charge for mission, Epiphany, Fabulousness, Light, Love, Marianne Williamson, Salt

How to do your part in Haïti

February 1, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

Last weekend, I participated in the 92nd Council of the Diocese of Southwestern Virginia, where I did a presentation on Haïti and how we can be involved in partnerships there.

The joy of learning in Haiti

At the presentation, I showed a movie I have made, Bondye di ou: Fè pa ou, m’a fè p’am (“God says to you: You do your part, I’ll do mine). It is a 12-minute video on the history of the Diocese of Haïti, and how that Diocese is leading the way in helping the nation recover from the devastating earthquake of 12 January 2010. It also describes the ways in which parishes, other institutions and organizations can become partners with the Diocese of Haïti, the largest diocese of The Episcopal Church.

The video is available for free for anyone who is interested in seeing it or using it themselves. Simply go to

http://gallery.me.com/merelaurens/100031

and you can see it, and if you want, you can download it and make DVD copies of your own.

Haiti video

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Filed Under: Blog Articles, Personal Writings Tagged With: Diocese of Haiti, Earthquake, Mission, Partnerships

How are we serving our country?

January 25, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

Last Wednesday (Jan. 20) was the 50^th anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s inauguration, when he sent forth that clarion call to all Americans: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

At the moment he spoke, I was but 10 weeks old, so I do not claim to remember a thing. But I grew up with those words in my household; the call to service to the country resounded throughout my childhood and led me, two and a half decades later, to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer in Kenya.

Earlier this week, the man who founded that marvelous organization, R. Sargent Shriver Jr., died at the age of 95. I never met the man, but I knew of him – I think every Peace Corps volunteer hears his story, not only of his work in founding Peace Corps, but also of his tireless work on behalf of the poor, his founding of Head Start, his work with his wife, Ethel, to found and run the Special Olympics, and all the other marvelous things Mr. Shriver did in his life.

I’ve been thinking of President Kennedy and Mr. Shriver a lot this week, and feel again that renewed call to serve the people of my country, to help make this nation a better place in which to live, to care for all of the people here.

Then I juxtapose that call with what took place in the House of Representatives Wednesday, the vote to repeal Health Care Reform, and I have to wonder: How does this serve our country?

Yes, the Republicans made a promise to their constituents that they would hold this vote. Yes, there are many who believe that Health Care Reform is wrong (and possibly evil, if you listen to some of the out-of-control rants on radio, TV and social networks).

But how does repealing that which will give Americans decent health care serve those same Americans? How does it answer President Kennedy’s call to serve each other?

I suppose, if you broke down President Kennedy’s challenge, you could make the argument that mandating health care for all is too much of the country doing for you, and not enough of you doing for the country.

I suppose it is possible to claim that government has no business in health care.

But if you were to make either of those arguments, you also would have to concede that Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security are wrong as well. And surely you would have to concede that government – which exists to provide for the security of its people – has no business providing that security. And if you concede those points, then wouldn’t you have to give up your Medicare, your Medicaid, your Social Security?

Now there is speculation that Senate Republicans will try to force a vote on repealing health care, not necessarily because they believe it is the right thing to do, but because they want to score political points. Republican Leader Mitch McConnell assures Americans that he will force such a vote, possibly employing delaying tactics on other bills, possibly by offering a motion to suspend the rules, which is an attempt to shut down the Senate.

What concerns me most is that the effort to repeal Health Care Reform is a repudiation of all that is

good in and about this country. Repealing it would say, in clear terms, “We don’t care about the least of our brothers and sisters. If you can’t make it on your own, go away.”

And in a week in which we mourn the loss of one great man, and celebrate anew the words of another, it seems petty and cruel to try to take away health care from those who really need it.

Somehow, I don’t believe either President Kennedy or Sargent Shriver would approve of that.

X X X

This column was written for the Episcopal Cafe (www. episcopalcafe.com) Daily Episcopalian.

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Boldly and provocatively proclaiming God

January 17, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

A sermon preached on 2 Epiphany, Martin Luther King weekend, at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Heathsville, Va.:

“Look, here is the Lamb of God.”

John the Baptist, the last of the Old Testament prophets, who has been preaching and teaching, calling the world to repent, to turn back to God … John, who baptized Jesus in the River Jordan and saw the Spirit descend like a dove … John the Baptist now boldly proclaims exactly who Jesus is, and exactly what Jesus is: The Lamb of God, the Son of God

This is John’s Epiphany proclamation, celebrating what Diana Butler Bass calls “God made manifest to the whole world.”[1]

And it was because John made this statement – not once, but twice, because sometimes, we all know, once is not enough – that Andrew and another of John’s disciples went off to spend time with Jesus, so that they, too, could see God made manifest in this world.

But first, Andrew, being Andrew — you know, the disciple who never quite understands what he is supposed to do, so he specializes in bringing others to Jesus? – first Andrew went to his brother Simon and made the same bold proclamation that John had made:

“We have found the Messiah.”

John had an epiphany – an aha! moment – and he boldly proclaimed that epiphany to the world.

The Spirit pointed him to Jesus, and he in turn pointed others to Jesus.

Andrew had an epiphany – an aha! moment – and he boldly proclaimed that epiphany to his brother.

The Spirit, through John, pointed Andrew to Jesus, and he in turn pointed Simon to Jesus.

That’s what Epiphany – the season of Epiphany – is all about, my friends.

God made manifest in the world is pointed out to us, and in turn, we point out God to others.

First we are told – and then we tell others – that, as Ms. Butler Bass says, “God (is) no longer a distant God or only the God of the ancient Israelites – but that God is, indeed, visible to all who open their eyes.”[2]

How have our eyes been opened?

And how are we opening the eyes of others?

• • •

Last Friday, I listened to a segment on NPR that focused on the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose birthday we celebrate this weekend. The discussion centered on Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech of August 28, 1963, delivered at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. That speech, according to civil rights leader Julian Bond, was an eye-opener – it was an epiphany — for many Americans at that time, because, Mr. Bond said, it answered the question of why a civil rights movement was needed.

For many of us now, that question may seem like a no-brainer: Of course the civil rights movement was necessary. In 1963, people of color were still treated as only five-eighths human in many parts of this country! But, as Mr. Bond pointed out, most people in this country at that time were unaware of just how bad life was for people of color. Dr. King’s speech, he said, was an epiphany for those who were listening, because for many of them, it was the first time they heard the truth spoken, the first time they learned that this nation needed fixing.

You know that what Mr. Bond says is true. You lived through those years. You remember what it was like. And after Dr. King’s speech, which opened your eyes along with the eyes of many others, your generation responded. I know this, because you have told me it. My generation says thank you. Thank you for hearing and responding to Dr. King’s truth.

Speaking the truth – boldly, provocatively declaring that truth for all to hear … this is our call in the world today.

Just as John had to point out to his own disciples that the Messiah of whom they dreamed was already in their midst …

Just as Dr. King had to point out to his own countrymen that there were still dreams to be accomplished in this land …

… So we are called to point out to this broken world that God’s dreams can still be accomplished in this world.

This is our call in the world today: To make God manifest to all whom we encounter, to all who have ears to hear and eyes to see.

We are the ones who, like Andrew, are to call others to God, to show God to everyone, by our words and by our deeds.

Boldly and provocatively.

In all that we do and all that we say.

And right now, my friends, the world especially needs us.

Because right now, my friends, the world needs to see the light – it needs to bathe in the light that is God made manifest.

We all know about the tragic events that took place in Tucson eight days ago. We all know about the six people who were killed and the 14 others who were wounded.

And unless we’ve had our heads completely buried in the sand, we all know that within hours of the shootings, a vitriolic debate broke out in this country as to who was responsible, as to who and what caused a mentally ill young man to lose touch with reality – to lose touch with God’s reality of love – and to do great physical harm to innocent people standing outside a grocery store, and great psychological damage to the world.

Fingers were pointed, and blame was assessed.

Most of that blame centered on the tone of our public debate, and how it has become so caustic, so pain-filled, so damaging to our souls.

But that is not what lies behind the attack. The shooter himself is a mentally ill young man, suffering from his own delusions and in serious need of help.

What makes these tragic events an epiphany moment for us is that our eyes and our ears have been opened to the fact that somehow, somewhere, we have lost the ability to proclaim love in this country.

To know this is true, all you have to do is turn on your radio and listen to the screaming matches that masquerade as “talk shows.” Or switch on your TV and watch as people denigrate and attack each other, all in the name of “commentary.” Or, if you’re brave enough – which I am not, I must tell you – you can look at Twitter. But be forewarned: If you do so, you will need to bathe afterward, because Twitter is filled with filth.

Or take a look at Facebook: Just last week, on one of those days when 49 of the 50 states had snow in them, a woman on facebook proclaimed that she wanted to “castrate” public school officials for canceling school before a single snowflake had fallen. She wanted to castrate someone because he had inconvenienced her!? I have to tell you, my first thoughts were, Do you even know what you are saying? Do you know how to do this? Have you ever done this?!?!?

The tragedy in Tucson is our epiphany, our great Aha! moment, showing us that all of us – all of us – have participated in some way in harming each other’s souls with damaging, derisive, deragatory words.

Oh, we may not have said anything awful … I pray that not one of us here has ever said anything awful. … But … I also know we all drive on the roads around here! And we all sometimes say things that damage not only our souls, but the souls of others.

Even when we refrain from saying bad things, from making damaging comments, we still have allowed others to say those things – and to get away with them.

We haven’t stood up against the evil that all this represents. We haven’t called out those who spew hatred, we haven’t tried to turn those people to love.

But now, because of those shootings in Tucson, many of us are re-examining our lives, we are re-examining God’s call to us in our lives, and we are saying, “Enough! Basta! No more! This is not what God calls us to say or do!”

We have had our Epiphany.

Jesus has been pointed out to us again – because sometimes, you know, once really is not enough.

And now we are called to point out Jesus to others.

It is time for us to do as John the Baptist did, to proclaim, boldly and provocatively: “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”

We are the ones who are called to go out into the world – again and again – and proclaim, by word and deed, that the Lamb of God is in our midst.

We are the ones who are to proclaim God made manifest not just in our midst, but in the midst of all the world.

It’s Epiphany, people!

It’s time for us to make proclamations!

Bold ones!

Provocative ones!

We have to be like John the Baptist.

We have to be like Dr. King.

If we want to change the tenor of the debate in this country – and by God, we should want to do that – then we have to be the ones who do it! With our own lips first. With our own lives first.

But we can’t stop there.

We have to call others on their comments, when their comments go too far, when their statements serve only to divide and denigrate.

Whenever our souls are damaged, you had better believe the souls of others are being damaged as well.

And it is up to us to keep that from happening.

The love of God has been manifest in our lives.

How are we making God’s love manifest in the lives of others?

How are we proclaiming, boldly and provocatively, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”?

Amen.

[1] Diana Butler Bass, “Gabby opened her eyes, may we also open ours,” http://blog.beliefnet.com/christianityfortherestofus/2011/01/gabby-opened-her-eyes-may-we-also.html#ixzz1B1prID7o, 14 January 2011

[2] Ibid.

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Words of hatred, words of grace: We must choose

January 17, 2011 by Lauren Stanley

A column written for McClatchy-Tribune News Service

By Lauren R. Stanley

The other day, I received a phone call from the garage where I had had my car worked on twice in two weeks. I was already on the phone, so I couldn’t take the call. But as soon as possible, I listened to the message, fearing something else was wrong with my car.

“Hi, this is …,” the owner of the business said. “You had your car back for service last week. Just calling to say thank you for bringing it back. Thank you.”

That’s it: Just a quick message meant to build a relationship with a new customer.

That’s the level of discourse I would like to see in this country – a simple “thank you” – rather the diatribes that fill the airwaves and jam the social networks.

Especially right now, in the aftermath of the Tucson shootings, vitriol dominates our lives. Fingers are pointing and awful words are being said about the shootings, about who said what that might have incited a mentally ill young man to kill six and wound 14 others.

But our need to harm each other, to sear each other’s souls with words of hatred, isn’t limited to the shootings.

If you listen to the ubiquitous talk shows, you know what I mean. There, words of hatred are shouted hourly, threats are made daily. Vitriol is the currency, and we have only ourselves to blame, for we are the ones who listen, who support, who participate.

Or look at Facebook, where seemingly innocuous events cause people to declare their desire to “castrate” someone (that was for a snow closing), to put others in the “cross-hairs” (those generally center on politics), to “get” yet another person who has somehow disappointed or displeased us.

And dip into – if you dare – Twitter, where people threaten each other daily. I pray that those who Tweet are not seriously considering acting upon their threats, but who knows these days?

If nothing else, the shootings in Arizona have shown that we have lost the ability to communicate with kindness.

In our rush to comment, we have forgotten how to set a guard over our mouths, how to keep our tongues for evil and our lips from speaking deceit, as the Psalmist warns us.

We have forgotten that as beloved children of God – which all of us are, whether we like it or not – the writer of Proverbs warns us that we must watch over our mouths and our tongues if we want to keep out of trouble. Rash words are like sword thrusts, Proverbs says, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.

The writer of Ephesians follows up on that: “Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.”

“Give grace to those who hear …”

Would that that were happening right now in this country particularly.

What has happened to us that we have forgotten how to give grace, how to speak words that build up? Why are we so eager to blame, to hurt, to disparage? And when … when? … did we stop teaching people to be careful with their words?

This is not a diatribe against anyone in particular on the left or the right. This is not about politics, or gun control, or even the appalling lack of care for those who are mentally ill.

This is a discussion – I hope, I pray – about how we can find our way to being decent to each other.

We spend an inordinate amount of time disparaging others and speaking words of violence (really, who in the world wants to castrate someone over a snow closing? Does the person who wrote that even know how to do that? Or what it means?). We curse, we threaten, we denigrate, we abuse, we attack. We use words to hurt, to injure, to wound.

Why?

What purpose does it serve? It might make us feel better in that moment, but when we look at what we have wrought – an atmosphere of hatred – do we still feel better then?

St. James wrote, “With (the tongue) we bless the Lord and Father, and with it we curse those who are made in the likeness of God. From the same mouth come blessing and curing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so.”

St. Peter added, “Those who desire life and desire to see good days, let them keep their tongues from evil and their lips from speaking deceit.”

Our words, our comments, have meaning and they have impact. When we choose to speak dark words, are we really surprised when darkness envelops us?

But when we speak words of grace, healing results. Isn’t that what we want in our own lives? And if so, isn’t that what we should want in the lives of others?

It really isn’t that hard to speak words of grace. A simple “thank you,” such as the message left for me by the business owner, can be so powerful.

If we want to improve our lives, and the lives of those around us, if we want to heal our ailing world, first, we need to guard our mouths.

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Blinded by the wrong vision …

December 12, 2010 by Lauren Stanley

Preached at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Bailey’s Crossroads, Va., on the Third Sunday of Advent.

My friends in Christ, Father James has asked me to speak this morning to all of us gathered here, which means that part of this sermon will be in English, and part will be in Spanish. I need to tell you that my Spanish, while good, is nowhere near as strong as it could be … so I ask you to bear with me on that … please.

Mis amigos en Crist0, Padre James me ha pedido hablar esta mañana a todos los que estamos aquí reunidos, lo que significa que parte de este sermon sera en Ingles, y una parte sera en español. Perdoname, pero yo quiero ustedes sepan que mi español no es muy fuerte. Pero voy a tratar de ser claro para que puede entender lo que estoy tratando de decir, de acuerdo?

Bueno …

En el nombre de un solo Dios, Padre, Hijo y Espiritu Santo. In the name of one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

How often do we look at something and decide we know what it means, that we understand what we are seeing – only to discover, later, that we were wrong?

Con que frecuencia nos fijamos en algo y decidimos que saben lo que significa, que entendemos lo que estamos viendo – solo para descubrir, mas tarde, que nos equivocamos?

How often do we look at something we have typed on our computers and miss the typos?

For many years, I was a newspaper editor. Part of my job was to design each page of the paper, to decide what story went where, what the headlines would say, how big the pictures would be.

Cuando yo trabajaba como editor de un periódico, una parte de mi trabajo era diseñar cada página, para decidir qué historia fue que, lo que los titulares que dicen, lo grande que las fotos serían.

Every night, before we put the newspaper to bed (as we used to say), several of us would gaze at the front page, reading every word of every headline, desperate to make sure that there were no errors.

Todas las noches, varios de nosotros se vería en la primera página, la lectura de cada palabra de cada título para asegurarse de que no hubo errores.

But some nights, no matter how hard we tried, we would still get it wrong.

Pero algunas noches, no importa lo duro que lo intentamos, que todavía se equivocan.

Like the night there was a helicopter crash, and despite the fact that 10 of us – TEN of us – read the headline before we went to press, all 10 of missed the fact that I had spelled helicopter H-E-L-P-I-C-O-T-E-R – HELPICOTER.

Al igual que la noche que escribe “helicóptero” como “helpicotero.” Que era malo.

And then there was the lawyer in town whose name I could not spell correctly no matter how hard I tried. Every time I put Mr. Snyder’s name in a headline, everyone would look it over to make sure it was right. Yet … three times in one year, instead of spelling his name S-N-Y-D-E-R, I managed to make it –S-Y-N-D-E-R. Mr. Snyder later married my best friend … and told me I could NOT help with the wedding invitations, thank you very much.

O las tres veces que me indicación de su nombre un abogado de forma incorrecta en la pagina primera. Que era malo.

We all make these mistakes.

Todos cometemos estos errores.

We all look at something and decide – sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously – that we know what we are seeing.

Nos fijamos en algo y decidir que sabemos lo que estamos viendo.

Many times, we are wrong.

Muchas veces, nos equivocamos.

Many times, we are only seeing what we want to see … not the truth that is standing right there in front of us.

Muchas veces, sólo vemos lo que queremos ver … no la verdad que está de pie justo delante de nosotros.

That is the problem from which John the Baptist suffers in this morning’s Gospel.

Ese es el problema de que Juan el Bautista sufre en el Evangelio de esta mañana.

John is in prison, put there by Herod for exposing the truth about Herod. He knows he’s in real trouble, and that he probably will die for having stood up to the powers-that-be.

Juan está en la cárcel, puesto allí por Herodes por decir la verdad … y Juan va a morir porque le dijo la verdad sobre Herodes.

In his last days, John seems to be trying to make sense of his life. He is, after all, the one who came before, to proclaim the coming of the Messiah. He is the one who told us – just last week, if you remember:

But one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals.

Juan quiere dar sentido a su vida. Recuerde, él es el que proclama la venida del Mesías. Él es el que dijo, la semana pasada, recuerde:

Pero aquel que es más poderoso que yo viene detrás de mí, yo no soy digno de llevarle las sandalias.

And furthermore, John proclaimed as he faced down the St. John the Baptist Preaching (ca. 1650),

Pharisees and the Sadducees — the ones he branded the “brood of vipers”: Mattia Preti (1613-1699),

He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

Y además, Juan proclamado como se enfrentó a los fariseos y los saduceos – los que marca la “generación de víboras”:

Él os bautizará con el Espíritu Santo y fuego. El tenedor aventar está en su mano, y limpiará su era y recogerá su trigo en el granero, pero la paja la quemará con fuego inextinguible.

That was John’s vision of who the Messiah would be: a powerful person.

Esa fue la visión de Juan de que el Mesías sería: una persona poderosa.

That was John’s vision of what the Messiah would do: he would cleanse the earth of the unworthy ones, get rid of those who did not meet John’s high standards.

Esa fue la visión de Juan de lo que el Mesías iba a hacer: iba a limpiar la tierra de los indignos, deshacerse de los malos.

John had a vision, all right.

Juan tuvo una visión, seguro.

A vision of fire and brimstone, of judgment day, of the worthy ones being received and the evil ones cast out.

Una visión de fuego y azufre, del día del juicio, de los dignos de ser recibidos y los malos arrojados.

The problem was, John’s vision blinded him to the vision.

El problema era que la visión de Juan le cegaba la visión.

And because of that blinding vision of his own making, John, the last Old Testament prophet, could not see that the one he himself had proclaimed was right there in front of him.

Juan, el último profeta del Antiguo Testamento, no podía ver que la que él mismo había proclamado estaba allí frente a él.

He sent word to Jesus:

Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?

Él le preguntó a Jesús: ¿Eres tú el que ha de venir, o debemos esperar a otro?

You know that Jesus had to be shaking his head when he heard this question:

Am I the one who is to come?

John!

You’re my cousin!

You have seen what I have done!

The blind see. The lame walk. The lepers are cleansed. The deaf hear. The dead are raised. The poor have good news brought to them.

John … what more do you want?!

Ustedes saben que Jesús tuvo que ser moviendo la cabeza al oír esta pregunta:

¿Soy yo el que ha de venir?

Juan!

Usted es mi primo!

Usted ha visto lo que he hecho.

Los ciegos ven. Los cojos andan. Los que tienen lepra son sanados. Los sordos oyen. Los muertos resucitan. Los pobres se les anuncian las buenas nuevas.

Juan … ¿qué más quieres?!

• • •

What more do you want?

How often is John’s problem our problem?

How often does our vision blind us to God’s vision?

We decide to see the world the way we want to see it.

But in doing so, we miss the world the way it is.

And worse, we miss the world that God wants us to see.

¿Qué más quieres?

¿Con qué frecuencia es el problema de Juan es nuestro problema?

¿Con qué frecuencia nuestra visión nos ciega la visión de Dios?

Decidimos ver el mundo como queremos verlo.

Pero al hacerlo, perdemos de vista el mundo tal como es.

Y lo peor, echamos de menos el mundo que Dios quiere que veamos.

God does not call us to see the world as we want to see it.

God calls us to see the world as it is.

And then … then … God calls us to see the world as it can be.

As God wants it to be.

Dios no nos llama a ver el mundo como queremos verlo.

Dios nos llama a ver el mundo tal como es.

Y entonces … entonces … Dios nos llama a ver el mundo como puede ser.

Así como Dios quiere que sea.

To quote Robert F. Kennedy (who was, actually, paraphrasing George Bernard Shaw[1]):

Some people see things as they are and say why? I dream thing that never were and say, why not?[2]

God wants us to ask, “Why not?”

Roberto F. Kennedy solía decir:

Algunas personas ven las cosas como son, y se preguntan ¿por qué? Yo sueño cosas que nunca fueron y digo, ¿por qué no?

El Buen Señor nos quiere preguntar, “¿Por qué no?”

This is what you are doing in this parish right now.

You are looking at the world around you – at your immediate community – and you are asking yourselves, “Why not?”

Why not create a new vision for this parish?

Why not discern a new way to serve graciously your neighbors and all seekers who come through your doors?

Why not develop a neighborhood ministry that bears God’s hope to Bailey’s Crossroads?

Esto es lo que está sucediendo en este iglesia ahora.

Ustedes están mirando al mundo alrededor de ustedes – en su comunidad inmediata – y que se pregunten, “¿Por qué no?”

¿Por qué no crear una nueva visión de esta iglesia?

¿Por qué no discernir una nueva manera de servir amablemente a sus vecinos y todos los solicitantes que pasan por sus puertas?

¿Por qué no desarrollar un ministerio de barrio que tiene la esperanza de Dios a Bailey’s Crossroads?

In this discernment process, with your vision of embracing all people, you are living into God’s vision for what the world can be and should be.

Con su visión de abrazar a todas las personas, que viven en la visión de Dios por lo que el mundo puede ser y debe ser.

You are like the monk who went to Abba Joseph and asked, “What more should I do?”, to which Abba Joseph replied, as his fingers became like 10 lamps of fire, “Why not be transformed into fire?”[3]

You are being transformed …

You are refusing to be like John, who in the isolation of prison let his vision imprison him.

Instead of being blinded and imprisoned by your own vision, you are opening yourselves up to God’s vision … of who you are … and of who you can be.

Ustedes están siendo transformados …

Ustedes se niegan a ser como Juan, que la cárcel que su visión encarcelarlo.

En lugar de ser cegado y encarcelado por su propia visión, ustedes están abriendo a sí mismos hasta la visión de Dios … de quien ustedes son … y de quién ustedes pueden ser.

In this season of Advent, we are called to set aside our vision of the world so that we can see God’s vision … a vision of incredible, radical, eternal love.

En este tiempo de Adviento, se nos llama a dejar de lado nuestra visión del mundo para que podamos ver la visión de Dios … una visión del incredible, radical, eterna amor.

We don’t want to be like John the Baptist, who was so focused on his own vision that he was blinded to the vision.

We want to see the vision, Jesus’ vision … of a world where the blind are made to see, and the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk, and the mute to sing with joy … where the lepers are cleansed and the dead are resurrected and the poor do receive the Good News.

No queremos ser como Juan el Bautista, que estaba tan concentrado en su propia visión de que era ciego a la visión.

Nosotros queremos ver la visión, la visión de Jesús … de un mundo en el que los ciegos se hacen para ver, y los sordos oyen, y los cojos anden, y el silencio para cantar con alegría … donde los que tienen lepra son sanados y los muertos son resucitados, ya los pobres reciben la buena nueva.

That’s Jesus’ vision.

That’s God’s vision … for each of us and for all of us.

Esa es la visión de Jesús.

Esa es la visión de Dios … para cada uno de nosotros y para todos nosotros.

Now is not the time for us to blinded by what we have seen.

Now is the time for us to see what God wants us to see.

A vision of the world as it can be.

Ahora no es el momento de que cegados por lo que hemos visto.

Ahora es el momento para nosotros para ver lo que Dios quiere que veamos.

Una visión del mundo tal y como se puede.

Why not?

¿Por qué no?

Amen.

[1] George Bernard Shaw, Back to Methuselah, 1921.

[2] Robert F. Kenney, speech at the University of Kansas, 16 March 1968.

[3] The Wisdom of the Desert: Sayings from the Desert Fathers of the Fourth Century, Thomas Merton, New Directions Books, Norfolk, CT, 1960, p. 50.

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