A Blessing For My Neighborhood

It is a cool day, yet the air is thick with dew. The clouds drift to the east in patches of light and dark. They are surprisingly fast. Only a slight breeze stirs the tops of the trees that line the street. A jumble of cars park under the trees in front of close fitting houses. The rain threatens, but children continue to play in protest, bouncing basketballs down the sidewalk or threading bicycles between cars. The porch on a day such as this is an attempt at comfort in the midst of confusion. The confusion of jumbled parked cars mirrors the jumble of clouds drifting off in the eastern sky. Even the direction is wrong; the clouds seem to be running away from their home in the sunset. The birds seem angry at one another as they chatter in the branches, trying to assert their territory.

A car with the horn of a train blasts at a couple of preschool children playing at the end of a drive way. The woman driving echoes the blast,

“Where the f*** is your mama?!”

“I don’t know,” the by replies take a step toward the road.

“Get the f*** out of the road!” The woman blasts back. “What’s wrong with you! These two are playing in the f***ing road!” she blasts in the direction of an unseen neighbor. And she is gone, apologizing to the other drivers, and cursing the children.

Is there something in the close fitting houses, in the oppressive clouds, in the unrefreshing breeze that is affecting us today? Is something external making birds and neighbors alike flare with anger? Or is it something within? Do we overflow with pain and contempt, heavy with it like the humid air?

Father, I offer this blessing for my neighborhood. May the streets here lined with trees and close houses be filled with joy. May the chatter of birds and squirrels mix with the giggles of children. May neighbor smile at neighbor and feel the knots of brotherhood constrain their hearts. May the transforming power of Christ lift the oppression that hangs over my street like the dense cloudbank that threatens rain. Tear open the sky! Bless Bay City.

My Holy Week

"I may never pass this way again."

I kept telling myself this as I went from church to church. When I am attached again to a congregation, how would I be as free to hang out with other churches?

 Maundy Thursday, I missed my chance to go to St. Alban's healing service.  The kids swimming lessons kept us too late.  So we had communion at our community dinner. That was great, but we should have had a foot washing.

Good Friday, I felt the sorrow and needed a service. (I have been accused of being a church addict this week.)  We missed the noon time services, but I ran into Pastor Isaac Chung from Westminster Presbyterian at Populace Coffee, and they were having a 7:00 Tenebre service that Ella and I went to.  Ella was very impressed with the progressive darkening of the sanctuary and our leaving by our lighted candles.

Saturday I spent with the folks at Trinity Episcopal church. This was the first Easter Vigil service I have been to.  It is similar to praying vigils at the monastery.  Communion and the word made this service awesome and got me dreaming of doing a vigil service that actually lasted all night.

Sunday morning was busy. I went to the sunrise service at Carroll Park.  This is put on every year by the youth at First Presbyterian. The service started at 6:45.  I loved watching the clouds light up with reds as the sun rose in the East, while the moon hung large and orange in the West. Another great feature of this service was the family friendly nature, with an egg hunt, donuts, and hot chocolate and coffee to drive away the chill.

Since it was still early I headed back to Westminster for their 8:00 service. Then home for breakfast where I discovered that the daughter of our church planting partners was in the hospital in Midland receiving an appendectomy.  Elaine grabbed some flowers from the flower bed and we took off for the hospital on our way to church.  The kids went with Grandma, and met us at church.

Sharing Holy Week with so many congregations as a stranger made me really appreciate the body of Christ in its vastness and diversity.  All these disparate people were celebrating the same reality of the resurrection.  I am grateful to be a part of such a body and rich tradition.

Hosanna!

This Palm Sunday I was struck by the power behind this word.  Hosanna is a cry meaning "save now, I beg you!"  That this cry of desperation is also the cry of exultation the crowds shout, appropriating Psalm 118, as Jesus enters the city hit me.

Sunday night I went to the College and Career Connection at CCC with much stress. I am underemployed and finances are getting to a place of hopelessness. Yet, here I am to worship with a bunch of fiery brands for whom worship is a thing of righteous abandon.  Hosanna became for me the cry of abandon it was for the crowd that day Jesus rode into town. Save me I beg! For you are the King!  You are the one who owns the cattle on a thousand hills! You have all provision and can supply my family's every need! You are worthy to be king of my life! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the Kingdom come!  All of that is wrapped up in the cry Hosanna! 

What a way to start Holy Week!