FOOT WASHING - WHO WOULDA THUNK

Our Maunday Thursday service began with a covered dish supper, candles on the table, real plates and flatware, tables set up in a large "U" shape set for thirty. There might have even been thirty of us there. The important thing is there were enough. Enough participants. Enough food. Enough spirit. Enough time for the enough people to greet one another and share a meal.

When the children became bored which, of course results in noise, Lois, our priest, softly rang her brass singing bowl with her little wooden mallet thingie. It is a soft sound -- but audible -- just. But the soft sound continues and the children finally catch it and begin to quiet down. The sound continues until they are silent. She calls them back to table to hear a story -- Raven Steals the Sun, Stars and Moon. We continued to eat. We listen to the story. The story is short. The children once again grow restless and then boisterous.

I grow uneasy with this distraction. This sound of disruption is annoying. They will soon be out of control running with abandon and squealing with the delight of their uninterrupted antics.

The calling of the bowl repeats and children are called back to hear the short reading before the foot washing begins. The foot washing ceremony is a very meaningful ritual for me. It not only instills in me, once again, how Jesus became servant, but allows me to be served and to be servant. It is ritual filled with holy love -- for the person being washed and the one doing the washing. It is a solemn ritual, done in a hushed atmosphere....

Add children. Add water.

Lois explains the procedure. The children immediately rip off their shoes and socks and gather around ready to 'participate.' Lois washes the feet. Lois dries. Lois washes more feet. Lois dries. Then she is tapped on the shoulder. The tapper wants to take a turn being the washer. AHAH! His sister is next in line to be washed. He wants to wash his younger sister. As the pessimistic observer, I can see water all over the place, tickling of feet, screams, and kicks. But Lois has him sit on the floor next to her and turns to the second chair where a washee awaits. She guides him through the washing and tells him how to dry. He listens and follows her instruction. Lois meanwhile washes the feet of the sister. The brother continues to wash feet of others. Slowly. Solemnly. With great attention and with great care.

I decide that I will have my feet washed. The sister is there to do it. "I'm tired," she says to me. "Too tired to wash my feet?" I ask. "Oh, no," she replies, "I can do it." And she does. It is not the slow and careful ritual that I have experienced in the past. But this child is serious about this washing. It is quick. Pour the water, swipe the towel. She has an observing helper who points out that she missed the water on the bottom of my feet. The bottoms of my feet are duly dried. I return to my place at table. Others have their feet washed. The young boy stands up from his last foot washing, stretches out his arms and says, "Any more customers?"

Foot washing is done. We move on to share communion. These children probably do not fully grasp what we have just experienced together. And that's okay. Next year when we gather for this same ritual, they will remember. They will be one year older. They will be in a different place spiritually. They will understand a little more. They may participate, they may not. But they will remember.

I will remember.

CASCADING CLUTTER

Once again there is just too much stuff. I don't even know if all of this stuff has a home. And if it doesn't have a home, should I make one or just toss? Now there is a dilemma. Probably why so much stuff is collecting -- no designated home. And yet with the clutter comes an inner sense of instability -- almost panic. Too much to do. Not enough time. Not enough space to do the work. My mind gets boggled and crowded and my sense of self gets confused and productivity comes at a price. And the price usually is cluttering up another sight with yet other stuff.

It gets just so deep and then action must be taken. Usually I know what is in the layers. Not exactly 'where' but at least 'what.' When I lose track of the 'whats' because they have been there for so long and the 'where' of what I do remember is history, then I must DO something. The call to action is brought on by a variety of things: a lost important something; lack of space even for list making; a torrential cascade that threatens to finally slip away to the floor when I try to get to my calender; molding citrus rinds; and most of all the sense of futility it instills in me.

So the day after the above picture was taken I vowed to clear the clutter. It took the better part of the day. I made sure that what I picked up found a place to live -- or was history into the round file. And while I was at it the places that I went with 'stuff' got a little attention also. But the primary goal was to clear down to the desktop. To have no clutter. To relieve my stress. To bring peace into my life.

And this is how it looked when I was finished. And I have been able to keep it this way for almost a week. I am having to relearn efficiency and organizational principles. Basics: take care of mail -- NOW; return items to proper place when finished; make new homes for new items or projects; don't even think I am going to come back to finish something, either finish it or put it away.

I am enjoying this. It is freeing. Spirit lifting. Opens a world of possibilities instead of 'have tos.' There is still more to come, of course. I am negotiating for a new desk and counter and places to have things at hand that I use often. Work in progress. Isn't that wonderful?

JESUS AND THE FIG TREE

This morning's reading always amazes me. I would just as soon have titled this piece Vindictive Jesus, or Spoiled Brat Jesus or any number of other heretical titles. But, really! What gives with this Jesus. His infantile hunger prompts him to put a curse on an innocent fig tree, just because the tree has not offered him an out of season fig to satisfy his immediate need. He has a temper tantrum. The fig tree withers and dies.

When questioned, Jesus came forth with the 'faith can move mountains' analogy. For me it would have been a better lesson if he had commanded the out of season fruit to spring forth for his satisfaction rather than condemn the tree to death. I abhor the thought that 'faith' can be used unjustly.

Scripture bewilders me and angers me.

THE SLOG IS OVER

Not to mean that Lent is over, but that we are now into Holy Week. The liturgy of Palm Sunday has been laid to rest for yet another year. The palms are still green and flexible and beautiful. The music still echoes in our minds. The Passion has been read -- Matthew this year. I was privileged to read the 'Evangelist' part. I love reading this part because it is the glue that holds it all together. The whole of the congregation participates. We live the story of the betrayal and the condemnation and the crucifixion. But it is only a 'taste' of the story. As the week goes on we will participate more fully in the events that lead to the cross.

And isn't it odd that when I was at the halfway mark of Lent, I thought it would never end. Now I am feeling as though it has sneaked up on me and I am ill prepared. Did I do all those things I wanted to do? Have I been prayerful? What about repentance, self-denial, fasting, reading, meditating? How am I measuring up? And who is doing the measuring anyway.

This is one of the lessons that I have to learn. NO ONE is watching me. NO ONE is keeping score. No one probably even cares. Whatever it is, whatever choices I make, it is between me and God. And it is for that relationship with God that I strive.

FOLLOWING JOHN TO LAMBETH

... or Jeffri as the case may be. I finally succombed and downloaded the Reading Plan that has been issued for daily contemplation leading up to the meeting of Anglican/Episcopal Bishops who are to attend their once a decade meeting at Lambeth in June. It has been interesting reading Jeffri's interpretations. He has been reading the Daily Bible Commentary Edited by Richard A. Burridge so we have yet another interpretation.

Lambeth is a ways off in time as well as distance and if you are interested it isn't too late to join in the reading of John and commentary by Jeffri.

CHANGE

There is this saying that goes "The more things change, the more things stay the same." I want someone to tell me how that is. Like give me an example. I'm not getting it. Change for me is a major event. Even if it is a change that I am expecting or planning, it is still major. Causing unsettledness and discomfort -- usually, not always. And that may be okay, but it still is a disruption to the rhythm of my life.

Many changes I can 'take in stride.' Don't you love all these little sayings that we use to describe things for ourselves. Stride. Well to take it in stride means that the rhythm does NOT change. In order for that to happen, requires a great deal of concentration. Read self discipline. Maybe even preplanning. And even though the obvious stride does not change does not mean that the inner stride follows suit. In order to appear that the change is accepted may mean an internal upheaval. Which, of course, will eventually throw one off stride. Oh, dear.

I have survived any number of life changes. Too many to enumerate. Most of them pretty ordinary. Still in all some of them pretty major for me. More changes are coming, of course. That's life. What is worrisome, however, is how I will experience the changes, and how I will handle the changes. OR will the changes handle me?

Grace Church is going to change. What we look like and what we are is going to be way different than what I now know it to be. This gives me feelings of expectation and apprehension. I don't know what the changes will be. There is nothing to prepare me for the newness that is coming. The expectation is that it is necessary for our survival and it will be good. The apprehension is that I do not see myself in the new. Will this old self fit in to the new fabric of Grace Church?

LENT SLOGS ALONG

Half way. We are half way to Easter. I like that better that half way from Ash Wednesday. Genesis moves along. Joseph bails out his family. Jacob prepares to die. It occurs to me having leafed through the Ecclesiastes' readings for Wednesday's class, that we pay much to little attention to the other books in the Bible. We are such a Gospel oriented people, that Proverbs and Ecclesiastes were certainly eye openers for me.

Proverbs had quite a lot to say about living. Day to day living. What to do, what and whom to avoid. How to conduct oneself in society. Likewise Ecclesiastes but mostly in trite sayings rather than admonitions. Perhaps if we were to pay more attention to these books, the Gospels would not be so difficult to live out. Given Proverbs and Ecclesiastes, the Gospels should be a piece of cake. But they're not because we haven't been given the rules and regulations about how to live life. It is like we are thrust into the middle of it all and expected to get it right off. Only, of course, we don't. Because we don't have the tools. So much of our learning is the explanation and interpretation of the Gospels. Maybe if we had a better background it wouldn't be so hard.

BUT, we are where we are and we know what we know. So, make the best of it. Work harder at understanding and living the Gospel. For me, that means lighten up. Relax. Don't be so intense. Let God do most of the work. Accept. Have a sense of humor. God must do a LOT of laughing at our awkwardnesses with life, we may as well do some of the laughing with God.