Blueberry Pancakes
March 02, 2009
I believe in person to person. Every
person is Christ to me, and since there is
only one Jesus, that person is the one person
in the world at that moment. Mother
Teresa
The problem with beautiful Catholic
imagery is that we can easily convince
ourselves we see God when we do not see God.
No one has seen God, so we have to content
ourselves with seeing Him in others. And the
most contented people I know are those who
have success in this. Fr. Myron
McCormick
It was blueberry pancake Sunday.
In the kitchen, the young mother worked under a deadline and a promise; today before church, blueberry pancakes for her two sons, their favorite breakfast in the whole wide world.
The two boys, aged 5 and 7, were fighting. Rolling on the floor, taking swings at one another over who would get the first pancake.
The mother was stressed and at the end of her rope. So the fighting proved the final straw. She saw this as an opportunity for a moral lesson. "Boys," she shouted. "Sit down! Now, if Jesus were here, he would give the first pancake to his brother."
That shut them up.
Then the older brother said to the younger, "I have a great idea. Today, you be Jesus."
It reminds me of another story about a little boy who was having nightmares. He went to his momma's room, "Momma, I'm having nightmares."
She told him, "It's okay, honey. Go back to your room, kneel down by your bed, pray to Jesus and he'll fix it."
Back to his room, knelt down by his bed, hopped back in bed, and--more nightmares.
Back to momma. Six times. The sixth time. "Momma I'm having nightmares."
"It's okay, honey, here's what I want you to do."
"I know momma. I'm going to go back to my room, kneel down by my bed, pray to Jesus and he'll fix it. But before I do that, can I just lay in bed with you and have you hold me?"
"Sure honey, why?"
"Because sometimes I need Jesus with skin on it."
We all need Jesus with skin on it.
And do you know who we are?
We are Jesus in skin.
I spent this past weekend with 40,000 of my closest friends at the Religious Education Congress, held in the Anaheim Convention Center. These are days filled with frenzy and inspiration. Days filled with music and laughter and insight and wisdom, amid the din of conversation and clamor. Days mottled by aggravation and hurry, and if we are lucky, many serendipitous moments of connection and aha and unadulterated delight.
One woman stopped by my booth, where I signed books and hawked wares and received hugs and gifts of chocolate. "Thank you," she told me. "For the Grace in your talk. I found myself again. You gave me back my life."
"I'm glad," I told her.
And I meant it. Because I know what it is like to have others be Jesus in skin for me. So whatever I do, is just spillage from those gifts I have already received.
I'm not trying to recruit you. Or even make you feel like you need to add something else to your life. Just the permission to slow down, long enough to recognize that Jesus in skin lives in you, and in those around us.
I hope you saw the moon this weekend. A crescent, turned on edge, the smile of a Cheshire cat. I saw it walking out of a restaurant with friends, and I breathed in the warm evening air. And I breathed out any need to press or strive. And I walked toward my car bathed in the solace of laughter and healing comfort.
"When I come in that door, I'm covered with blood sometimes, and they hug me. They love me, they take care of me, they treat me as a real human being. And then they feed me, and they massage me, and they give me adjustments. These are my people. This is my place. This is where I come to be with God."
A New York firefighter, about the volunteers who worked tirelessly in St. Paul's chapel. St. Paul's is the place-adjacent to the World Trade Center-where firefighters and rescue workers ate and slept in the days and weeks that followed the 9/11 tragedy at the World Trade Center.
In the kitchen, the young mother worked under a deadline and a promise; today before church, blueberry pancakes for her two sons, their favorite breakfast in the whole wide world.
The two boys, aged 5 and 7, were fighting. Rolling on the floor, taking swings at one another over who would get the first pancake.
The mother was stressed and at the end of her rope. So the fighting proved the final straw. She saw this as an opportunity for a moral lesson. "Boys," she shouted. "Sit down! Now, if Jesus were here, he would give the first pancake to his brother."
That shut them up.
Then the older brother said to the younger, "I have a great idea. Today, you be Jesus."
It reminds me of another story about a little boy who was having nightmares. He went to his momma's room, "Momma, I'm having nightmares."
She told him, "It's okay, honey. Go back to your room, kneel down by your bed, pray to Jesus and he'll fix it."
Back to his room, knelt down by his bed, hopped back in bed, and--more nightmares.
Back to momma. Six times. The sixth time. "Momma I'm having nightmares."
"It's okay, honey, here's what I want you to do."
"I know momma. I'm going to go back to my room, kneel down by my bed, pray to Jesus and he'll fix it. But before I do that, can I just lay in bed with you and have you hold me?"
"Sure honey, why?"
"Because sometimes I need Jesus with skin on it."
We all need Jesus with skin on it.
And do you know who we are?
We are Jesus in skin.
I spent this past weekend with 40,000 of my closest friends at the Religious Education Congress, held in the Anaheim Convention Center. These are days filled with frenzy and inspiration. Days filled with music and laughter and insight and wisdom, amid the din of conversation and clamor. Days mottled by aggravation and hurry, and if we are lucky, many serendipitous moments of connection and aha and unadulterated delight.
One woman stopped by my booth, where I signed books and hawked wares and received hugs and gifts of chocolate. "Thank you," she told me. "For the Grace in your talk. I found myself again. You gave me back my life."
"I'm glad," I told her.
And I meant it. Because I know what it is like to have others be Jesus in skin for me. So whatever I do, is just spillage from those gifts I have already received.
I'm not trying to recruit you. Or even make you feel like you need to add something else to your life. Just the permission to slow down, long enough to recognize that Jesus in skin lives in you, and in those around us.
I hope you saw the moon this weekend. A crescent, turned on edge, the smile of a Cheshire cat. I saw it walking out of a restaurant with friends, and I breathed in the warm evening air. And I breathed out any need to press or strive. And I walked toward my car bathed in the solace of laughter and healing comfort.
"When I come in that door, I'm covered with blood sometimes, and they hug me. They love me, they take care of me, they treat me as a real human being. And then they feed me, and they massage me, and they give me adjustments. These are my people. This is my place. This is where I come to be with God."
A New York firefighter, about the volunteers who worked tirelessly in St. Paul's chapel. St. Paul's is the place-adjacent to the World Trade Center-where firefighters and rescue workers ate and slept in the days and weeks that followed the 9/11 tragedy at the World Trade Center.
Poems / Prayers
For those of you who missed last week: Walk. Or Dance. Live fully. Enjoy.
youtubedance
After you had
taken your leave,
I found God's footprints
on my floor.
Tagore
A Prayer for Wholeness
Mothering, fathering God:
We give you thanks and praise for the joy of being church together for the exhilaration of doing liturgy as one body.
Help us to know and remember: It is not OUR SONG until ALL sing and then only will ALL be transformed.
It is not OUR STORY until ALL hear -- some with eyes, some with ears, some with open hearts.
And it is not OUR STORY until ALL are invited to PROCLAIM whether standing freely or firmly supported.
It is not OUR DANCE until ALL process to the altar and the GIFTS brought to the table are not the GIFTS OF ALL until the GIFT-BEARERS truly look like ALL OF US.
The WELCOME OF HOSPITALITY will not be TRUE AND HONEST until ALL are TOUCHED -- physically, spiritually, emotionally and ALL find in their eyes the gaze of the OTHER.
Lord God, make it clear to us that it will not be HOLY communion until those who BREAK AND SHARE THE BREAD look like all who TAKE THE BREAD-- and the cup is both OFFERED AND RECEIVED by ALL of us in the BROKENNESS that finds a home in EACH ONE'S HEART.
And so, baptized in the breath of this new day we stretch out our arms and lift up our hands in blessing embracing the GIFTS THAT MAKE US WHOLE. Gracious God, gather the gifts of ALL.
SHAPE AND CLOSE THE CIRCLE of your embrace in the name of the one who MOTHERS and FATHERS us into life; the one who RESTORES and RENEWS us, who CHALLENGES and CHANGES us, who ENFOLDS us and RELEASES us to do the LITURGY OF LIFE in the sacred spaces to which we have been called.
Humbly, EXPECTANTLY, we ask this in Christ's name.
Amen.
Mary Evers, Old St. Patrick's Church
Peace,
Terry Hershey
