Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

This is not Jesus! Holy Wednesday.  Many churches will hold Tenebrae services this evening, as it grows dark, to commemorate the encroaching shadow of Good Friday. In my own halting way, I am limping after Jesus towards Jerusalem and the cross. Jesus is the most real for me during Holy Week. I understand pain and loss. I have a notion of what betrayal feels like. Gethsemane might look familiar to me, were I there. Most people have suffered. Most of us have had our Gethsemane moments.Pain and loneliness are known to most of us. We have seen them written on each others' faces. To the left, in contrast, is a photo of Ted Neeley, who played Jesus in the movie version of  Jesus Christ, Superstar.  My grandmother had on her dining room wall a painting of Jesus that greatly resembled Mr. Neeley, except that her Jesus's eyes were blue.  This is the image of Jesus I grew up with -- Blond, Gentle Jesus. Jesus who loved the little children. A Jesus who would look perfectly comfort

That's a magnolia tree there, to the left. Not one that I know personally, because we're a little far north here for magnolias. They're a real southern phenomenon -- think Steel Magnolias -- but one of my favorites. My grandmother, who lived with us when I was little, planted a magnolia tree in the front yard. Why she would do this is anybody's guess. She wasn't from the south, but she did love flowering shrubs. And Granny could be a little ... stubborn. So there was the poor magnolia, in the center of the front yard, on an east-facing slope in Delaware, about a mile from the Delaware river, exposed to the cold easterly winds blowing in from the river. In those days, April frosts and snow were nothing unusual. I lived at home for my first twenty years, and I think I saw the magnolia bloom a whole  two or three times. Most years, the buds would bravely appear and begin to swell in early spring, hoping the warn sunshine would last. Then, on a cold night, th

I'm thinking a lot about the past during these days of Lent ("That's a typical old-person statement!" my son would say). But it's true that the older we get. the more the past sometimes comes into focus: it's not just a muddy river of flowing time that has washed us up in the present. Memories begin to stand out in sharper relief. Eddies and whirlpools appear in the current. Rocks peek above the flow. Patterns emerge Our bodies, of course, carry some of our patterns. One of the readings in my book of reflections for Lent,  Lent Is Not Rocket Science , discusses genetic patterns. The writer notes that, although the many different types of cells comprising our bodies die and are replaced at varying rates, our most essential physical patterns, encoded in our DNA, remain pretty much the same, preserving our uniqueness. I am short and have gray eyes; these patterns will not change, though the cells in my skeleton and in my eyes will be renewed over time. P

As winter fades into spring, I am attempting to do some (more) inner work on myself. It's actually a plan without an end. Once I get a bit of control over one fault, another bubbles up to laugh at me. Haha! Yes, you're sober now, but you're still a bitch at home! Tee hee! And hypercritical? Yeah, that's you! Also, did I mention lazy?  What's bubbling right now is that ol' tendency I have to be judgmental, when I encounter something, or someone, that I don't like. This falls within a wide range, and covers everything from bemoaning others' right-wing political opinions to laughing at those Walmart pictures of chubby women in stretch pants and skinny tops. Equal-opportunity condemnation! And it takes place mostly in my head, which is undoubtedly a bad thing. It means that I avoid situations I don't like, but I condemn them secretly. A few posts ago, I recounted my speechless, liberal shock-and-horror when a relatively new person in our congregation

It's been a very long winter. The hymn, "In the Bleak Midwinter" says it well. We've had "snow on snow" here in the middle-Atlantic states. I feel as if we have had snow on the ground most of the time since the second Sunday in Advent, when our first snow fell. That first snow was just a tease. We were thrilled -- it's relatively unusual for us to have snow before Christmas. This was light snow, fluffy and beautiful. Newly-installed Christmas lights looked even more brilliant and twinkly than usual. Travel was not much affected. Light snow is the best possible harbinger of the Christmas quickly approaching. It's a seasonal enhancement. After Christmas, however, the snows kept coming, accompanied by some of the coldest air we have had here in decades. The "Polar Vortex" settled over us, freezing the earth "hard as iron" (more hymn lyrics). My hardy fern on the porch shriveled up in mute protest. The heat pump could bare

Every year, our local ministerium celebrates the International Week of Prayer for Christian Unity  with an ecumenical service featuring separate musical offerings by four local church choirs, followed by two anthems performed as a massed choir. This year, St. John's choir dedicated our performance to Mr. Rodger Maro, who had been our organist and choir director for the last 15 years, until his death on June 23, 2013. We love and miss Rodger, and our last year with him was a time of great sadness but also of great closeness. Our wonderful new organist and choir director, Trish Fronczek, was key in helping us to prepare this musical tribute. The MP3 file that Trish recorded is at the link below. The first anthem is entitled, "Simple Song of Peace," and the second is "Night of Silence," which we sang a cappella. Preceding the performance, you will hear Phyllis Sowers, head of the choir, announcing the dedication. Click here!  You might also have to click &q

I can't promise a sing-along every week, but I've been listening to a lot of Peter Mayer's music lately, so here's a sample (see YouTube at end of post).  This is one of my favorite songs, "Church of the Earth," and it's a rehearsal tape. The singing stops at about 4 minutes. Lyrics are below, video follows. Enjoy! The ceiling is high To let your soul rise Up to the angels who teach you to fly And when you're weary of clouds It helps you back down And welcomes you home To this hallowed ground Chorus: It's gilded in gold, gilded in rust For heaven below and heaven above The heaven we know here in this world Here in our holy church of the earth The windows are wide So darkness and light Mystery and Beauty meet you inside And there's room enough To hold all of us Who gather in friendship Gather in love [Chorus] Church of life Ancient and bright Life that inside us shines Life that we share This is our prayer That we