Monday, April 6, 2015

Why We Tell The Stories

Our Resurrection Stories
An Easter message by Rev. Angie Wright


Rebirth by Terrance Osborne
Rebirth by Terrance Osborne

   We tell the stories
   Because they are our stories.
   We tell the stories
   To find ourselves,
   To remind ourselves
   Who we are
   And whose we are.


We tell the stories
To remember where we came from
And to get where we are going.
We tell the stories
To be reminded
That there is a Love
That no hatred can extinguish,
A Light that no darkness can put out.
Exodus, by Richard McBee
Exodus, by Richard McBee
We once were strangers
In the land of Egypt,
The stories tell us,
And we once welcomed the stranger as well.
We were once slaves in Egypt,
The stories remind us.
We lived in bondage
And our mighty God set us free.
"Misereor Hunger Cloth," People of Santiago de Pupuja
Misereor Hunger Cloth by the People of Santiago de Pupuja
Truth be told,
We were once slavemasters as well
And our mighty God
Took pity upon us,
Showed us mercy
And set us free.
 

We were once the enemy

Breathing fire and murderous threats


And curses on those who crossed us.

We also once reached out to the enemy
 And transformed the enemy with love.

christ-washing-the-feet
 
Once Jesus knelt down to wash our feet
And we recoiled
That he would do the demeaning work of a slave.
Once we knelt down
To lavish perfume on his feet
And his followers recoiled
That we would display
such excessive love for Jesus.

leper
We were once the outcast,
The leper,
The prostitute,
The tax collector,
Paralyzed with little desire to be healed,
Filled with such demons
That no one could bear
To see our face or hear our voice,
No once could bear to touch us,
Not even a mother could love us.
We once were humiliated and ridiculed,
Belittled and belied,
We also once taunted and teased the outcast among us.
"Zacchaeus (Misereor Hunger Cloth - Ethiopia)," Alemayehu Bizuneh
"Zacchaeus," Misereor Hunger Cloth by Alemayehu Bizuneh
We once lived both in the dire straits of poverty
And in the poverty of riches.
We were once so afraid
That we hoarded what little we had
And turned a deaf ear
To the pleas of those who had less.
Misereor "Hunger Cloth" from Ethiopia by Alemayehu Bizuneh, Scene X
Misereor Hunger Cloth by Alemayehu Bizuneh, Scene X
We were once the widow, the orphan,
The ones with nothing to eat
And nowhere to lay our head.
We once turned our backs
On those who needed us,
And we watched as everyone we loved
Turn their backs on us.
 
Betrayal, by Troy Ignacio
Betrayal, by Troy Ignacio
We have been both the betrayed
And the betrayer.
We have been abandoned
And we have left someone else behind.
We have been hounded and hunted down
By those who wished to destroy us
And we have been merciless toward those
Who we feared might cause our destruction.
We have unjustly condemned
And we have been unjustly condemned.
maxresdefault
The stories tell us
That we have been all of these people
And we have been in all of these places.
We are they
And we are there,
Some of us
Even now.
George Inniss, The Valley of the Shadow of Death
George Inniss, The Valley of the Shadow of Death
The stories tell us
That Jesus also once was there.
He went there before us
And even now
He walks through the valley
of the shadow of death
with us
and for us.
The Valley of the Shadow of Death, by Ashley Pyeatt
The Valley of the Shadow of Death, by Ashley Pyeatt
There is no place you have been,
No place you will go,
Where Jesus has not been there before you.
There is no place you have been,
No place you will go,
where Jesus will not walk there with you.
There is no hell or high water
That Jesus will not go through
With you
And for you.
dark_tunnel_by_innovation4d
Dark Tunnel by MD.Waheed
When all hope is gone,
When we sit silent in the darkness,
When we surrender to the emptiness,
When we wish death would just come,
When all is lost,
When we have given it all we’ve got
And finally given up,
Then
And sometimes only then,
there comes a light in the darkness.
Resurrection Morning  by J.R.C. Martin
Resurrection Morning by J.R.C. Martin
There comes a presence in our aloneness.
There comes a dollar when we most need it.
There comes a rain in the dead of drought.
There comes a star in the sky,
A word from a friend,
An opening of the heart.
There comes a story
That reminds us
That God is with us
Hunger Cloth by Jacques Chery
And God is life!
And when God is with us
We can live!
We can live again!
With wounds, yes;
With scars,
With shame and history,
But we can live!
Despite ourselves
And despite all the pain and loss and struggle
that we have and will go through,
There is a Love that
No hatred can extinguish,
A Light that no darkness can put out.
Welcome the Stranger, by Bev Patterson
Welcome the Stranger, by Bev Patterson
That, my Beloveds,
Is the promise
Of the Resurrection.
It’s a promise
That can be trusted.
Amen.

Claim Them As Our Own

Claiming Them As Our Own
Holy Saturday Reflection by Rev. Angie

 
She is slowly taking her leave,
The painful withering away
Of mind and body
That is Alzheimer's.

She lies still in her own bedroom
Given the dignity of dying in her own home
By her beloved devoted daughter Lynn.
 

Grace, who is full of Grace,
Has been at their side

In constant loving care
For both dying mother
And grieving daughter.

What a gift,
I often think,
That Grace cares so much for Lynn.
What a gift,
That Grace cares so much for Lynn's mother.

She has been such a powerful presence
that Lynn’s mother calls Grace her daughter.

Grace is a gift.
That’s what we believe.
The miracle is that,
in the act of gracious giving,
She has received a gift herself.

They have become family.
Broken in pieces
But being put back together.
When Jesus was dying on the cross,
He turned to the beloved disciple and said,
“Son, this is your mother.”
He turned to his mother Mary and said,
“Mother, this is your son.”

In other words,
It is not good
That we should be alone.

It was only “After this,”
After binding the broken pieces together
In a re-membered family,
That Jesus knew everything had been completed
And surrendered himself to
What lay ahead.
Shelter my mother
From the cruelty
Of being a woman unaccompanied.

You who share in her love
And her loss,
Grieve with her,
Move through mourning with her,
Shelter her heart,
Shelter her broken pieces.

And so Jesus speaks to us from the cross,
Woman, man, these are my children.
Shelter my broken ones.

Shelter the motherless child,
The childless mother,
The elderly warehoused and forgotten,
The mentally ill whose family has given up,
The homeless facing down the freezing night
With only a bottle and a blanket
On the cold hard ground.



Can we hear Jesus speaking to us
From the cross, saying,
Woman, man, these are your children.
Take them into your home,
Claim them as your own?

Can we hear Jesus speaking to us
From the cross, saying,

Here is the mother of Michael Brown.
Take her into your home,
Claim her as your own?

Can we hear Jesus speaking to us
From the cross, saying,

Here are the six children of Eric Garner.
Take them into your home,
Claim them as your own?



Yes, we say to Jesus, yes!
She is our mother,
They are our children,
We claim them as our own.

The real miracle will be
When we hear Jesus’ speaking to us
From the cross, saying
Here is the mother of Darren Wilson.
Will you take her into your home,
Take her as your own?

Even as he breathed his dying breath,
Jesus was re-member-ing the body,
Taking the broken pieces
And creating something new.

 


This is my body
Broken for you,

 
This is my body
Broken for you,
The broken body of Christ.

Can we hear Jesus speaking to us
From the cross, saying
You are the body of Christ, the broken body of Christ.

Will you say it with me?
“We are the body of Christ, the broken body of Christ.”


Broken in pieces
But being put back together
Of the One whose love knows no bounds
By the One whose mercy knows no bound.

From the moment Jesus entrusted
His mother broken by grief
To his beloved disciple,
the disciple made a place for her in his home.

 


May it be true of us,
That from this moment on,
We will make a place
In our homes
For the broken body of Christ.

May it be true of us
That from this moment on,
We will make a place in our sacred spaces,
For the mother who has lost her child,
For the child who has lost his mother.

May it be true of us
That from this moment on
We will make a place in our homes
For the hungry, the thirsty, the naked,
The sick, the imprisoned,
The stranger,
Yes, even the enemy.

Even the enemy,
We will give them a home,
We will claim as our own.

For as Jesus taught us,
When we have done so
Unto the least of these,
We have done it unto him.