Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down!

Ash Wednesday 2015; Mt. 6:1-6, 16-21; St. Paul’s, Smithfield, NC 2/17/15

Jim Melnyk: “Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down”

How many of you recall the old nursery rhyme, “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”?  Do you remember singing the rhyme, perhaps while holding hands in a circle and then all falling down at the end?  Did you know that legend says it has to do with the plagues that rocked Europe centuries ago?  Some say the ring around the rosie was about the circular rash plague victims exhibited, and that the posies were used to cover the smell of death.  Ashes – and American addition – had to do with the cremation of the dead or perhaps even the London fire that helped end the plague.  Falling down – that’s what happens at the end. Even if some scholars are correct and it doesn't date back to the period of the European plagues, the imagery certainly fits.

Okay – so Ash Wednesday isn’t about the plague – but it does have something to do with our mortality – with the reality that we come from the earth and to the earth we all return.  But one danger of Ash Wednesday is that with all the language of sinfulness and penitence which we’re about to rehearse once again in a few minutes, we can get fixated on being broken – perhaps even being unworthy.  We can “easily slip into” what a former colleague of mine, the Very Rev. Todd Donatelli, refers to as “the bad theology that our primary identity is our fallenness, our brokenness, and forget that we approach our brokenness from God’s proclamation of our inherent goodness, our inherent blessedness and belovedness, our being created in the image of God” (The Very Rev. Todd Donatelli, Dean of The Cathedral of All Souls).

The antidote for avoiding such bad theology is to recall what we have learned about God and about ourselves during the season of Epiphany.  “Without Epiphany,” Todd writes, “Lent is dangerous and dishonest.  Epiphany is about the manifestation of God in human flesh; the manifestation of God in Jesus’ flesh and the ongoing manifestation of God in all human flesh including yours and mine,” he writes.

As we prepare to enter into our Lenten Journey, let’s take a moment to recall what we have learned over the past six weeks.  We began Epiphany with the remembrance of God choosing to become one with us in the person of Jesus, and with wise men coming on the scene to pay homage and proclaim the mystery of the Word Made Flesh (Matthew 2:1-12).  We stood by the banks of the Jordan River and witnessed the Baptism of our Lord – and through Mark’s narration became privy to the Voice of God assuring Jesus that he was indeed God’s own Beloved – someone in whom God was well pleased (Mark 1:11).  We learned that Jesus called everyday people to follow him – and that following Jesus means being willing to risk the proclamation of the kingdom of God – even to those who are threatened by the grace and love of God.  And we learned that the kingdom of God is at hand – that the kingdom of God is as close as our hands held out in front of our faces.  Finally, we were given a glimpse of the transfigured Christ – a promise that the cross would not – cannot ever win.     

Epiphany began with a recalling of our own baptisms, and our promises to seek and serve Christ in all people, to work for justice and peace for all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  Lent gives us an opportunity to reflect on how well we have or have not manifested the light of Christ in our own lives – to reflect on how well we have or have not lived into our baptismal promises. 

We come to Lent not as creatures despised by God, but as creatures created in God’s own image and likeness – as creatures who God loves deeply and with whom God desires a loving relationship as a parent desires her own children.  We come to Lent as a people called by God – as a people wooed by God – as a people already forgiven – as a people sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.

But we also come with our own brokenness, and as Dean Donatelli reminds us, “Lent offers the invitation to reflect on broken relationship: brokenness [within our own selves – with how we relate to our own selves, brokenness] between each other, between [us and] God, and between [us and] the [whole of] creation.”  We approach Lent as a people not in need of a casket, but as a people in need of healing – and not as a people with a God of retribution who takes great pleasure in punishment, but as a people beloved of God, and followers of Jesus, the Great Physician of our souls.

So as you come forward to receive the imposition of ashes this night, recalling that we are dust, and to dust we shall return; let us realize that to speak of our mortality is not an evil thing – it is not a curse – for when we die to this world we will live in Christ.  But let us consider as we come forward what it is we must die to in this life to be fully alive in Christ – in this life.  Ash Wednesday isn’t a time to sing Ring Around the Rosie, but it is a time to enter into deep reflection about our relationships with each other, with this world, and with God; and to seek ways to strengthen those relationships that are healthy and find healing for those that are broken.  

We wear the ashes of Lent because we are a people created in God’s image and given the promise of new life – the promise of healing and love in Christ Jesus. 

The ash is a symbol promising that while we may say “yes” to sorrow and sin in our lives – that while we may at time embrace and revel in our brokenness – God is the One who always says “yes” to reconciliation, “yes” to healing, “yes” to the promise and hope for new life for each of us.  For if there was no hope – if there were no promise of reconciliation and new life – there would be no point in wearing this sign – this sign of our mortality – this prayer for life.

In Christ Jesus we are a people who rise like the Phoenix from the ashes marking our brow.  We rise in the hope and promise of a caring, forgiving, and loving God.  In the love of God – in the life, death, and resurrection of the One we call Christ – we are much more than the ashes we wear this day.   Amen.

What Must We Die to in Our Lives?

Last Sunday After the Epiphany; Mk 9:2-9; St. Paul’s, Smithfield – 2/15/2015

Jim Melnyk: “What Must We Die to in Our Lives?”

I was not in much of a good mood upon my first and only approach to the famed Natural Bridge in the western part of Virginia.  To begin with, it wasn’t exactly right off the interstate for someone making a spontaneous detour.  And then the parking lot was big – and crowded.  And we had to pay money to see this so-called wonder of the world.  And we had to go through a crowded, tacky, gift shop to get to the head of the trail – to walk down a long set of steps, and then downhill to the bridge (which would mean a steep uphill return).  Shameful to say, my mood darkened the further downhill we walked.

Then we turned a bend, and there was this giant hole in the hill in front of me. 

I looked up – I mean, I looked waaay up – to see the bridge crossing my line of sight some 270 feet above me!  Every ounce of frustration – every desire to grumble – every bit of dis-ease in me – suddenly disappeared.  What an incredible sight.  What a loss it would have been to have missed seeing its majesty and splendor!  I seem to recall myself grinning and shaking my head and letting out a whistle of awe.  And that was just over a bridge of rock most likely created when a cavern collapsed long ago – granted it was 270 feet tall – but in reality it was just an incredible accident of nature.  I was overwhelmed by the sight, and my darkened mood was transformed.

       

 Peter, James, and John on the other hand – Peter, James, and John, the inner circle of Jesus’ disciples – most likely his closest friends – they find themselves hiking up a mountain.  And if it’s Mount Hermon, in what is now the Golan Heights, as some traditions tell us – if it’s Mount Hermon – which is close to Caesarea Philippi in the far north of Galilee – they could have been hiking as high as 9,000 feet to get to the mountain top – which puts my grumbling countenance to shame even further!  What’s more, those close friends of Jesus are hiking up Mt. Hermon with heavy hearts – with their own varying degrees of frustration, fear, shock, and perhaps anger. 

Back at Caesarea Philippi, just six days earlier, they had a rather unsettling – had a rather troubling – had a rather fearful – conversation with their teacher and Lord.  You remember the story, don’t you?  “Who do the people around us say that I am?” Jesus had asked.  Remember the answer?  They said, “Well, some think you’re John the Baptist come back to life – or Elijah returned from heaven – or some other great prophet of old.”  And certainly we can understand that answer, because Jesus seems to embody not only the hopes and dreams of those great prophets, but the disquieting and challenging message of them as well.  Jesus, you recall, pressed them further.  “Who do you say that I am?” Peter had blurted out, “You are the Messiah!” (Mark 8:27-30)  And it had gone downhill from there. 

Jesus went on to explain to them, for the first time in Mark’s account, about his impending rejection by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes.  The journey to Jerusalem will be a journey toward betrayal, torture, death, and new life – and his disciples were overwhelmed.  Peter tried to talk him out of it and Jesus likened him to the Tempter who had confronted him during his wilderness fast.

Once again we get smacked right in the face with the prevailing message of Jesus: that  “the kingdom of God [which is at hand] is not about life after death, but about life in this world” (Conversations with Scripture: The Gospel of Mark, Marcus Borg, p. 28). 

It is in the midst of this life that we are called to follow Jesus – and his way, which we follow, is a way into the very heart of the kingdom of God. 

What the disciples heard that day in Caesarea Philippi – and what we are challenged to hear every time we are confronted with Mark’s Gospel – is the unchanging and mystical paradox of the kingdom: that, as Marcus Borg puts it, “the way of the cross [proclaimed and lived by Jesus] is about life and death; to avoid [the way of the cross] in order to save one’s life is to lose one’s life, and to embrace [the way of the cross] is to save one’s life.  [It is the unnerving reality that in the Gospel of Mark, and in the kingdom of God,] the path of death is the path of life.” (ibid, p. 77)  Try chewing on that mess for a bit while climbing to the top of a high mountain – or just while quietly sitting at home or at work! Following Jesus isn’t supposed to be easy – and if it’s too easy, then we might want to look a little closer at the Gospel we proclaim!

Peter, James, and John had to be feeling pretty much wiped out by the time the reach their stopping place with Jesus.  They’ve been turning this mess over and over again in their heads for almost a week now – and I’m wondering if their heads are about to explode.  I’m wondering how their nerves could be anything other than frayed and raw.  “Give us something, Jesus,” I can imagine them saying.

“Give us something to help us feel hopeful in all this mess.  Give us something to hang our hats on that’s a bit less cryptic than ‘rise again.’” 

And does he ever!  Jesus is transfigured before their faces, and there in the midst of his glory appears Moses and Elijah – the Law and the Prophets – perhaps Israel’s two greatest prophets.  Could it get any wilder than that?  Yes it can – and it does!  For the same voice that spoke to Jesus at his baptism, now speaks to his inner circle of disciples as well.  And in the midst of a glorious vision – a vision so well remembered that all four Gospels make note of it – in the midst of this shining vision of transfiguring glory, the voice from heaven proclaims:  “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”

Presbyterian Pastor Leanne Pearce Reed makes clear that the command from God is “not to see but to listen” to what Jesus has told them.  And since we have no new teaching offered atop the mountain in any of the four Gospels, we must look back to the last teaching offered by Jesus before this mountain top experience (Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, General Editors, 2014, p 257).  The kingdom of God stands in opposition to the powers of the world – and the kingdom’s message will always put those who proclaim that message at risk.

How well do the disciples listen?  How well do we listen to what Jesus tells us about the kingdom of God?  We want our faith to be about being loved and comforted – and there is a lot to be said for that in the Gospels.  We are, indeed, God’s beloved and Jesus, indeed, proclaims a kingdom ultimately upheld by the peace and love of God. 

But we struggle with that part of our faith which speaks about dying to oneself to find life – the part that says “whoever would want to be first in the kingdom of God must be a servant of all” – the part that calls us to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self” – the part that challenges us to “strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being” (BCP, p 305).

What do we have to be willing to die to in our lives in order that even the poorest among us can see a doctor when needed, or not need to choose between food on the table, a roof over their heads, or life-saving medications?  What do we need to be willing to die to in our lives, so that even the poorest schools get the text books and teachers they need to educate every sister and brother in our communities?  What do we need to die to in our lives in order that our water sources are kept clean and our air kept breathable? 

What do we need to die to in our lives so that we can say, “When my car stalled out four young men helped me push it to the side of the road,” rather than “Four Hispanic men or four Black men?”  Because we most certainly don’t say, “Four White men…” What do we need to die to in our lives that senseless tragedies like the death of three young people in Chapel Hill not become the norm for our society? 

Those are just a few of the hard, scary, yet Gospel-based questions we must wrestle with as followers of the Way – as followers of Jesus, who “came into this world not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).  And while we might not all agree on the answers, the questions are real, and must be asked.  And as people of faith – as followers of Jesus, we must seek life-giving answers.

Remember that risky prayer we offered on the First Sunday of Advent?  “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down…” (Isaiah 64:1a)!  Here, standing atop a high mountain, the heavens are indeed torn open, if only for an instant, and the glory of God’s hope for humanity is revealed in transfigured glory! 

Only the road to that promised glory will take Jesus and the disciples down from the mountain top and straight through the valley of the shadow of death.  The glory that surrounds Peter, James, and John will be veiled for a bit under the shadow of the cross – only to be revealed in staggering wonder on the Day of Resurrection.

Match to Candle for Babi Yar

Many years ago Lorraine and I visited the National Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC.  It was an overwhelming experience.  As we moved through the museum from the top level to the bottom, the weight of humanity's inhumanity was crushing.

When we came at last to the Hall of Remembrance we found the eternal flame burning at the center of the hall, and the names of concentration camps and death camps were listed around the walls.  The public is invited to light memorial candles if they wish, and there were places in front of camp names where memorial candles are placed.

I decided to light a candle and offer prayers, and arbitrarily headed to one section of the wall.  I found myself standing before the memorial for Babi Yar, a ravine outside Kiev, Ukraine, where 100,000 Jews, Roma (Gypsies), communists, and others were executed by German authorities stationed in Kiev.

Being of Ukrainian descent I sat and wept uncontrollably.  My family had a history in Ukraine (though from the Western region).  My heart was broken - shattered - by a sense of cultural duplicity.

In 2006 my brother Will and I traveled to Ukraine for two weeks during part of my sabbatical.  We spent a few days in Kiev and actually had the opportunity to visit the memorial at Babi Yar.  I couldn't bring myself to visit - and years later wish that I had.

This poem has taken shape over the years; finding its first incarnation shortly after my visit to Ukraine in 2006.  A couple of years ago I served on an interfaith panel at the Yavneh Jewish Renewal Community in Raleigh, NC.  Our topic brought Babi Yar back to mind, and the bulk of this poem took shape.

As my 2014 sabbatical comes to a close I came across the last draft in a journal of mine.  I was compelled to complete the work.

Match to Candle for Babi Yar

Match to candle

            for Babi Yar.

Beside th’eternal flame I sat

            and wept

                        for sins long past

and new.

One hundred thousand candles –

            their wicks quenched.

And so I met the ghosts

            of Babi Yar

in the hall of holy remembrance.

Match to candle

            for Babi Yar.

Too few were among the righteous –

            too many were left behind.

Yet to save one soul from death

            is to save a whole world.

Dare we name the horror –

            that which is buried deep?

Dare we seek its hateful remnant       

            hiding deep within our hearts?

Dare we confess our own sins,

            face our own scarred souls,

                and light a candle

                        for Babi Yar?

                                              

  Jim Melnyk 7/25/2014

Social Context of the Number 42

Social Context of the Number 42 (Jim Melnyk, 4/15/2013)

In Douglas Adams’ book, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, the meaning of the Universe is summed up as “42.”

“In the first novel and radio series, a group of hyper-intelligent pan-dimensional beings demand to learn the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything from the supercomputer, Deep Thought, specially built for this purpose. It takes Deep Thought 7½ million years to compute and check the answer, which turns out to be 42. Deep Thought points out that the answer seems meaningless because the beings who instructed it never actually knew what the Question was.

Douglas Adams was asked many times why he chose the number 42. Many theories were proposed, including that 42 is 101010 in binary code, that light refracts off water by 42 degrees to create a rainbow, that light requires 10⁻⁴² seconds to cross the diameter of a proton.^[6] Adams rejected them all. On 3 November 1993, he gave an answer^[7] on alt.fan.douglas-adams:

The answer to this is very simple. It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one. Binary representations, base thirteen, Tibetan monks are all complete nonsense. I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought '42 will do'. I typed it out. End of story.” 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Answer_to_The_Ultimate_Question_of_Life,_the_Universe,_and_Everything#Answer_to_the_Ultimate_Question_of_Life.2C_the_Universe.2C_and_Everything_.2842.29

Still, today is April 15, which Major League Baseball has set aside as Jackie Robinson Day.  Jackie, who broke MLB’s color barrier in 1947, wore the number 42.  Several years ago when MLB had set aside a day to honor Robinson, Ken Griffey Jr. went to the Commissioner and asked permission to wear number 42, which had been retired by Baseball, for his day’s game.  In the movie, 42, just out this month, there's a scene (historically accurate) recalling the moment in Cincinnati when Pee Wee Reese walks over to Jackie Robinson at First Base and puts his arm around his teammate to show his support. "Maybe tomorrow," says Reese, "we'll all wear 42, so they won't tell us apart."  I haven't been able to identify if Reese actually said it, but it certainly has come true. Now everyone wears number 42 on Jackie Robinson Day.

 

What for the author was an indiscriminate number, for MLB and many others, carries a meaning of full inclusion and common humanity in the midst of diversity.

Maybe Douglas Adams, author of A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, accidently hit on the true meaning of the universe – Oneness.

FLYIN' LIONS ROAR IN SEASON FINALE!

By Bob "Rufster" Ruf:

Halfway through their season-ending matchup with First Presbyterian Church, it appeared the St. Mark's Flyin' Lions softball team was going to go into the offseason with a whimper. Having jumped out to leads of 12-1 and 16-4, First Presbyterian seemed to be cruising toward an easy victory as the game entered the bottom of the fifth inning.

No one told the Lions, however. After the first two batters made outs and with no runners on base, St. Mark's suddenly found its bats coming alive. The team started ripping the ball to all parts of the field and before the inning was over the Lions pulled within 16-13 with a nine-run outburst.

Still, after giving up a run in top of the last inning to trail 17-13, the Lions had their work cut out needing at least four runs in their last at-bat to send the game to extra innings. After Ryan Roberts scored early in the sixth, the team loaded the bases with Jim Melnyk at the plate. "Mels" ripped a bases-clearing triple to right center field and suddenly the game was tied. Michael Howes then produced a clutch, game-winning base hit bringing Melnyk home to secure one of the most exciting come-from-behind victories in the team's eight-year history.

Nearly everyone on the roster made major contributions in the game, with several players having multiple-hit games including Melnyk, Howes, Roberts, Clay Clark, Bob Ruf, David Hesselberth, Mike Wilson and Dave Crum. Paul Roberts was the winning pitcher.

The Lions thank all the loyal fans who came out to watch them play at Millbrook Exchange Park and are already looking forward to the 2012 City Church League season.