Being Present

A few Sundays ago, I was privileged to speak in our church. What I love about this is the preparation. I love studying the scriptures and then relating those scriptures to my own story and our collective Christian journey.

I put a short, modified excerpt of it here mainly for me. To remember. To be encouraged. And to be sorrowful when I do not live the life that I preach:

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens

Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

These are a few of my favorite things

Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Silver white winters that melt into springs

These are a few of my favorite things

When the dog bites

When the bee stings

When I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don't feel so bad

Jesus has been born and being the father of this newborn has changed Joseph’s life completely. He looks at this baby boy, Jesus, with love. He would do anything in his power to protect him. He doesn’t want this child to suffer, ever. Joseph’s heart breaks a little when he cries and watches as Mary tenderly consoles him. But his heart trembles with anxiety and worry. What child starts out life being born away from home and family and in an old barn with livestock. And yes, if this child is really the Messiah and the prophecies come true, the life of his son and his wife will be full of pain and misunderstanding.

And now this dream, this frightful dream which foretells of the threat of death that Herod is to Jesus. Joseph must gather his family in the middle of the night and flee. This was not the dream he had planned or hoped for for himself, his lovely Mary and certainly not for their baby boy.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens…  I cannot imagine that the advice of the governess Maria would do Joseph very well on this fearful night. Joseph’s favorite things, his dreams, or his “happy place” would not bring any amount of peace or solace.

A number of years ago I became familiar with the ethicist and theologian James McClendon. He’s not very widely known as he wasn't a prolific writer; but what he did publish was insightful, scholarly and at times profound.  In one of his writings he talks about the virtue of presence.  What it meant to be present and to be present for someone in our Christian witness.

McClendon said “Presence is being one’s self for someone else; it is refusing the temptation to withdraw mentally and emotionally.” The virtue of presence is basically being here and being real. It is about emotional and spiritual space, not just physical space.

We can all recall times when we have been with a friend, a spouse, a child, and though he or she was right next to you or across from you, they were not with you. Their mind was somewhere else.  Not necessarily because of a phone in their hand or the football game playing on the screen over your head, but their heart was distracted. They were listening and responding accordingly, but not present.

When we are present with someone it is about being sensitive to what’s going on around you, and not just in you. 

I admit it is hard to always be consciously present with someone. The vibration of the phone in my pocket, my worries about a forthcoming class, or the shop I need to get to before it closes – these distractions keep my heart from being with your heart.

I have to and must make an effort when I am with someone to be present with them: to hear them and to feel them; to not come with my agenda and anxieties, but to listen to their heart; to not be sorrowful about the past or anxious about the future, but to be present right then and there.

Presence does not always have words. It does not always need actions. It is understanding. And sometimes not understanding, but trying. Presence is an available shoulder to cry on, hand to hold, ear to listen. It is “putting our own body’s weight and shape alongside the neighbor, the friend, the lover in need.”

Immanuel, God with us, came to earth. Lived our lives. He knows our messed up world. He took our shape. He aligned himself up next to us and said, “I understand. I have been there and I am here.” His presence was real and with us.

As believers we are called to be Christ to others. To be present, to embody the love, grace and forgiveness that Jesus came to be. We are called to carry the light of hope in a world that is pressed down with hopelessness to people who have forgotten or chosen not to believe.

Our presence must be real to those who do not know Christ. Our presence must be real to each one of us sitting here today, it expresses to our sisters and brothers that we are indeed family. With the same bump and bruises and struggles of any family, but because of Christ we journey together in love and hope. And we care for the person sitting next to us, in front of us, behind us, up here behind the pulpit, behind the soundboard in the nursery, in the Sunday School classes.

Keith and Denise Jones. Joyce DeRidder. Joe Ann Shelton. Parush Parushev. Mark Vroegop. Jeannette Wolters.

These are people, whom you may not know and may never meet. They live in different states and different countries. These are names and faces of people who have been present for me. They have been with me through tears and trials. At different points along my Christian journey, they have held my hand and guided me through open doors. They gathered around me and cared and prayed and showed me that in the mess of life there is hope, there is joy, and there is peace.  This is what Jesus looks like today.

Look around you here today. [remember, you’re at church ;)] Take a moment to remember those who are not here. Bring to mind others, individuals and communities who have walked with you at some point in your journey, who have been present. Who were to you, Jesus with skin.  

Jesus was born to Joseph and Mary who were in the midst of an unsettling, but exciting story. They did not know what came next in their journey, but they held Immanuel in their arms. Whatever their next step, whatever darkness and trouble came, they knew God was with them.

When the tears that fill your eyes blur the road ahead. When sorrow has such a hold on you that you can’t imagine days getting any better. Look around you. [still at church!] We have each other. We have the body of Christ - sisters and brothers who will hold our hands, let us rest our head on their shoulders. Who will embody the Christian story and be present. We have Jesus with skin, God with us.

I can go without raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.  Girls in white dresses and snowflakes will not make me hope for better days. They will not calm the sting of the bee or lessen the pain of a dog bite.

But I have you, my sisters and brothers you, the body of Christ, you are my favorite things. 

A Tuesday with many names

I stole the below information from the ever dependable Wikipedia. Some of my dear blog-followers may feel like they are back in Sunday School, but not all Sunday Schools are equal. It wasn't until I was an adult and living in Prague (after 26 years of Sunday School) did I learn about Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, and the Lenten Season. This is why I post it here - to remind myself and maybe give you a bit of new info.

Shrove Tuesday (also known as Pancake Tuesday and Pancake Day) is the day preceding Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. The expression "Shrove Tuesday" comes from the word shrive, meaning "confess."  

The term Mardi gras is French for Fat Tuesday, referring to the practice of the last night of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the 40 days of the Lenten season.

Pancakes are associated with the day preceding Lent because they were a way to use up rich foods such as eggs, milk, and sugar, before Lent. 

I am just coming back from the kitchen where I mixed together a small bowl of batter for my own Fat Tuesday pancakes to carry with me to school today. However, I guess they may already fit into the Lenten fasting food group, since I chose a more healthy recipe that used no milk or sugar... and even my eggs were only the whites! Regardless, I'm still really looking forward to eating them in virtual communion with fellow Christ followers around the world - especially in my beloved Prague. 

Speaking of "my beloved Prague", as I was gathering and mixing my pancake ingredients this woman came warmly and fondly to mind. 

I borrowed this photo from the IBTS facebook page. You should follow them!

Isn't she gorgeous? During my nearly seven years in Prague she was a woman whom I grew to deeply respect and love... and still do. I am honored to call her a dear friend. I could do one full and lengthy blog post on her, and very possibly an entire blog site on the fact that everyone needs a Denise in their lives!

What brings her to mind on this day, is that she was the preparer and server of Fat Tuesday pancakes every year on the day before Ash Wednesday for the seminary community where we lived and worked together.

The above photo was taken today (!) whilst she is eating one of her delicious pancakes.

Happy Pancake Day!

A Black Tie Affair

Having lived in an international community for nearly ten years, I got used to the odd outfits and clashing colour combinations of others and also experimenting myself with various styles and clothing items.

I loved the opportunity and took advantage of it happily. One article which I adopted into my wardrobe was wearing a necktie. Not daily, certainly not, and not weekly, simply as my mood directed me.

This was a style, which I quite liked and recently felt the necktie mood settling in. I was expecting some strange reactions from colleagues when I wore a tie to work on Thursday and was not proven wrong. At the end of the day I had survived their comments and with the worst behind me felt I could freely don the necktie in the future without being the brunt of too many jokes.

Then came Friday.

I had been asked and happily agreed to be the liturgist for our Thanksgiving chapel service at the seminary. No, I didn't wear a tie.

It was a nice service with a good sermon. After it concluded, a number of my colleagues came to the front where I was sitting to, I had thought, thank me and the preacher for the service. Nope. Every single one of them - women and men - was wearing a tie. I hadn't even noticed whilst I was leading, but they had sat all together in the first row of people proudly displaying their attire. Somehow I had totally missed it.

It's probably a good thing I didn't notice - who knows how the Thanksgiving prayer would have ended!

New Beginnings Together

I was delighted to be asked to participate in the opening chapel service for Calvin Seminary this autumn. Worshiping as a community has become very meaningful to me and I appreciated very much the opportunity to draw people's thoughts together in prayer for the coming year.

I hadn't realised this had been printed until a colleague said she should ask for my autograph and I hadn't a clue why! If you are interested you can find this and other CTS FORUM journals on the Calvin Seminary website.

ps - click on the image to enlarge it...

Still Aggravated

I've become increasingly annoyed this week as I visited my blog and was reminded of my experience in a church down the road.

It's possible you may have as well, hence this new post and photo.

Sarka Valley Community Church (SVCC) in Prague, Czech Republic is a community of Christ followers who have a very different (and dare I say much more scriptural!) understanding and practice of the Eucharist than the church I attended this past Sunday.

My final Sunday with SVCC in February 2010 was a day which I hope to never forget. Following a heartfelt sermon from a dear friend, our full attention was drawn to the wine and bread which sat on the table in front of us.

It was a morning which as a church community we gathered around the table to share the Eucharist together. We stood in one circle as was our custom. This allowed me to see and love each sister and brother whom I had worshiped with and befriended over my seven years in Prague.

The prayer and blessing over the bread was beautifully and eloquently made as the loaf was broken and passed from believer to believer. This, followed by the chalice of wine.

A miscommunication regarding the children that Sunday kept them in the service rather than having them dismissed as they normally would have been. Happily, this allowed me to see my Prague Christian family in its fullness around the table of fellowship one final time.

I was honoured to bring before each child a bowl prepared with a mixture of milk and honey. They would not drink the wine as it was passed, but could dip their piece of bread into the milk and honey as a sign of their journey and the promise that they are welcome to into the Kingdom; symbolic of the promise to the Israelites of a Land flowing with milk and honey.

Tears filled my eyes as I moved from child to child, holding the small yellow bowl. My hands trembled from emotion as I encouraged each child to dip their piece of bread in the sweet mixture. Peter, whom a few years back I had visited in the hospital after his birth; Anna, whose family was recently baptised and became members; Maggie, Leo and Marcela who visited faithfully with their parents once a year when their dad came to study at the seminary; Selina, a young girl, who quite quickly moved from a 6 year old in pink ruffled skirts to a teenager with braces and wearing skinny jeans.

These children will never remember that Sunday, but I will never forget it as together with their parents and others in that chapel, we embodied the love and shared the peace of communion together in and with Christ.

The Eucharist is a celebration! It is the very essence and the clearest sign of our Christian communion together, our sharing of the peace and embracing sisters and brothers in genuine love, and of our recognizing and remembering Christ, our Redeemer. It cannot be approached and received in this 'fast-food' manner, as a dear friend below has stated. It's not the hasty distribution of plastic two-for-one cups, to be consumed quickly so as to not take time away from the worship songs and the message.

The Eucharist is the message.

Kýrie, eléison

Sbohem můj drahý Praha

The sad young lady on the left is holding up her open passport to the page which now has glued to it an 'exit visa'.

Yes, this forlorn figure was unable to secure a visa to remain in the romantic city of Prague and worst the enriching community of IBTS.

She leaves with amazing memories and indescribable experiences with such dear friends that she never regrets for one moment she found her home in Prague.

Not to worry, she is not always sporting this sorrowful expression. She looks ahead to the future - to the exciting adventure ahead of her and the mystery and challenges it holds.

Christmas by John Betjeman

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

A Welcoming and Tolerating Community

Late August a furry little vagabond appeared on the IBTS campus. He found his way in and out of everything on site. He could be seen sleeping on stairwells, in offices and wherever a bit of peace and quiet was available.

As a kitten, Arnošt became a welcomed part of our IBTS community. Though I must say 'welcomed' by some of our community simply means 'tolerated' by others.

He had the wonderfully playful characteristic of chasing and attacking everything that moved. (Including fingers while typing on keyboards and shoelaces of feet walking past!)

Learning that my new little Olympus has the option of videoing, I decided to give it a try:

This my first video attempt. So if it's unsuccessful, I've no qualms about taking it off and simply reverting back to basic photo illustrations.

Nonetheless - Enjoy~ !!