Marin T. rex

  The Good News that the horrors of Friday had become the hope of Sunday was first revealed to those with no power or influence—women, the uneducated, the voiceless. And yet here we are today, remembering and celebrating. Friday is over. Sunday, full of promise, is here. The message, despite its unlikely messengers, got out, got through the centuries, all the way to us. Thank you for reading along with me and Libby. My little yellow street dog has become a reminder to me of how much I am loved and seen and valued and fought for, even and especially when I am snarly and full of fear. I will not give up on her, and I know that he will not give up on me. He is risen. He is risen indeed.

 Holy Saturday.  We wait.

I’m finding it so interesting to learn how different traditions refer to this day, and also why, in my own tradition, this dark day is referred to as “good.” “Good,” in this case of course means “pious” or “holy,” not the more common, lighter meaning of the word. In other traditions, this day is called “Friday of Preparation,” “Mourning Friday,” “Silent Friday,” and “Long Friday.” “Long Friday” certainly resonates with me ... it seems we’ve been waiting for so much, for so long. It makes me think of the famous sermon of African-American pastor and Civil Rights activist, Shadrach Meschach Lockridge, in which he repeats over and over, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!” A link is below. It’s a comforting and moving reminder that there will be resolution of all of this tension and fear. Sunday is coming. I'm going to give Libby a much-needed day off today and bring Feynman into the conversation.  This is a photo that the volunteers at the shelter in Beijing sent me while we were waiti

Today is when we remember the movement towards the cross amping up. Jesus gathered his best friends together and began to prepare them, and himself, for what was about to happen. He washed their feet as a teaching on service and humility, and they shared one last Passover meal together. I love words, so reading about the names of these holy days is fascinating for me. “Maundy,” for example, comes from the Latin “mandatum,” which is where we get the word “mandate.” The mandate, in John 13, is a tough one: “‘A new command I give you: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” We have been charged with actively loving, including everything from doing menial tasks for one another, to being willing to die in another’s place. In the past couple of years the word "mandate" has become charged.  Sides must be taken, and the last thing on the minds of many is service and kindness, let alone the prospect of dying for another. It's much easier (and even fee

Having grown up in a non-litur gical tradition, the various movements of Holy Week are pretty new to me. It makes me sad that I’ve missed out on such depth and rich history. And cool names! Spy Wednesday ... wow. Of course, the “spy” of “Spy Wednesday” is no laughing matter: none other than that great villain of Scripture, Judas Iscariot. The one who betrayed his friend with a kiss. That guy. My friend  @d.a.v.i.d.n.y.c  once taught a class on Judas Iscariot. It was fascinating to learn that the Gospels that were written closer to the actual historical events reported the story of Jesus’ betrayal very matter-of-factly. Only in the later Gospels does Judas start to become the caricature we know and hate. In Mark (written c. AD 66-70) the story of the betrayal is presented in a “just the facts, ma’am” manner. In Matthew (written c. AD 85-90) we get the facts of the story, along with the heart-wrenching moment when Jesus calls Judas his friend, even as he’s being betrayed. In Luke (and it

Today as we remember the details of the days before Good Friday and Easter, we commemorate 2 parables that Jesus told that final week: the Parable of the Ten Virgins and the Parable of the Talents. Both are illustrations on the importance of keeping watch, of being prepared, and of acting to bring heaven closer to earth—making a difference in this life. My husband, Ken, has delved deeply into the study of the 10 Talents—if you’d ever like an interesting and challenging conversation about that and the surprisingly practical takeaways found in that parable, I know Ken would love to chat with you. The TL;DR version is this: our priorities should ideally be about serving others and being prepared for the future before satisfying our own present-day wants. That’s a good word for any day, but an especially profound one for this Holy Tuesday, 2020. How would Jesus have us move forward after this time of disease and war? I imagine that many of us will have changed priorities once this is over.

  (I decided to borrow heavily from what I wrote about Holy Week in 2020.  Hope that's ok ... ) We know a fair amount about how Jesus spent the original Holy Monday: according to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus cursed a fig tree and overturned the money changers’ tables in the temple courts. Basically, he spent much of that Monday in a snit. A holy snit, but still ... things looked bleak, and he was justifiably cranky. I imagine we can all relate on this Holy Monday, 2022. Pandemic, authoritarian governments, war ... it's not good. Despite all the distractions and worries, I am determined to make this year’s Holy Week count: I will do my best to enter into the history and passion of it, the dread and the horror and ultimately, the hope—a hope that is not baseless, not wishful thinking. We know how the story ends, after all. We know Easter is just around the corner. But even so, this day is dark and heavy as we wait. And hope. Two years ago, I talked about Feynman waiting to be

  Yes, I know that Lent is not over yet!   The 40 days of fasting do not include Sundays, so I mis-counted. But I mis-counted intentionally to maintain the daily discipline.   So pay no attention to the numbers!   I’ll keep slogging away through Easter—and thank you for coming along with me!   For this final week, I’ll be moving away from the BiOB reading and instead focusing on each day/event of Holy Week. Today, Palm Sunday, gets us ready for the coming week, where all that we have been anticipating is marked. On Palm Sunday, everyone loved Jesus. Just a few days later, they turned on him, likely because he wasn’t talking of overthrowing the Romans, wasn’t taking the hint that they wanted him as their human king. The people got impatient with this humble rabbi. Forget all that figurative crap about “the kingdom of God” … they wanted victory immediately, on their terms. Sounds familiar …  Of course they had no way of knowing the end of the story—that the delayed victory would be

  Love the Lord your God and keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always.  Deuteronomy 11:1 Love and obedience. They’re not mutually exclusive in power-disparate relationships like God and people, parents and children, or me and Libby. In the New Testament, Jesus states it super clearly: “ If you love me, you will keep my commandments. ” (John 14:15) This is not a controlling boyfriend or manipulative friend. This is a benevolent Someone who is actually  in control, giving subordinates the opportunity to have a relationship within and despite the disparity. The trick is for the subordinates to get on board and thus be able to fully enjoy the relationship. And getting on board starts with getting rid of our innate “you’re not the boss of me” attitude. Cause you know what? God actually is the boss of me, parents are the boss of young children, and I am ( I am! ) the boss of Libby, whether she likes it or not (she doesn’t). The analogy of course breaks down

  Today’s BiOY NT reading is from Luke 12, which includes the famous “ Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” That verse and concept seemed like the obvious prompt, given everything that’s happening with Libby and with the world, so I wrote a couple of drafts of thoughts on worry. I even got out the “Wave-Zyxt” volume of the OED (yes, my own, personal copy of the Oxford English Dictionary, cause I am a dork, and my husband loves me) to muse on the different meanings of the word. But I was never pleased enough to post, which is odd, since usually I fire off something on my phone, post it and move on with my day. But today was different. I got home from a long walk with a friend this morning and noticed feathers  on the floor. That’s weird. I then left for another couple of hours to celebrate another friend’s birthday. Came home to more feathers. Huh. Turns out a little sparrow had gotten into the house while I was gone, through the door I had left open for the d

  From the commentary on today’s BiOY OT passage, Deuteronomy 6-8: “ Remember that mountaintops encourage you, but valleys mature you.” My dog-owner valley is nothing like wandering the wilderness for 40 years, but the lesson and the encouragement are the same. We learn and grow from mistakes and misfortunes. After our traumatizing episode where I saw what Libby was capable of at her worst, we regrouped and reorganized. I am once again hyper-focused inward, this time not with coziness but with an aim to save my dog. I am wearing her out with walks, depleting her energy to be in charge, and she is often tethered in the house. *I* am in charge, all the time, and she does not like it, but it’s the right thing to do. Hey, even with my derpy goldens, I should have been in charge long ago, rather than always reacting to their cute and fuzzy behavior. So we’ve got a plan, and I have hope. This “valley” will not last long, and we will emerge from it stronger and less irritating and far

  Today’s BiOY NT passage is Luke 11, in which Jesus famously says, ¹⁰ “ For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”   This is another of those aspirational, sometimes even problematic passages. Because sometimes (often? usually?) the asker does not receive, at least not literally. I imagine that many of the murdered people in Ukraine cried out to God—or the West, or anyone—to save them, and look what happened. In a figurative or spiritual sense, I would argue that people who diligently seek God will find him (and the context of this passage is primarily about spiritual seeking), but speaking of spiritual rescue in the moment of physical peril or even simply need, is not necessarily helpful. It’s a mystery to ponder in times of safety, perhaps, to have one’s mindset pre-determined in preparation for unsafe times.   Libby and I had a really, really hard day yesterday. We had a session with a new trainer, and it did

  Today’s BiOB reading includes the parable of the Good Samaritan, the teaching of the Lord’s Prayer, and one of my favorites, the Mary vs Martha incident. Martha had been busily running around, doing all that had to be done, while Mary sat and listened to Jesus. After Martha complained to Jesus, this was his response:   ⁴¹ “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, ⁴² but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” I sort of wish that Jesus had anticipated the Brady Bunch and added another “Martha” to his statement (I’ll pause a moment for us all to channel our inner Jan), and I also wish that he had given Martha at least some credit. After all, there WERE things that HAD to be done! Even today, when rules of hospitality are somewhat more lax than they were in first century Israel, one is expected to feed guests and provide them with a clean and comfy place to stay. Who

  From Luke 10, after Jesus sent his disciples out to heal and preach: ³ Then he turned to his disciples and said privately, “Blessed are the eyes that see what you see. ²⁴ For I tell you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see but did not see it, and to hear what you hear but did not hear it.” We are “blessed” like the disciples, getting to see the arc of the story of God and having the privilege of now living in the Age of Grace—although from today’s headlines you wouldn’t necessarily know it.   Despite our wishfully thinking that human nature is evolving, becoming enlightened and good, it seems pretty clear to me that human nature is still what’s it’s always been: power-hungry, tribal, in-the-moment selfish and sometimes even cruel. So where is this Grace from the so-named Age of Grace? The world looks pretty much the way it always has, only with wifi.   I can *sort of* grasp at concepts like this one through my dogs. (Surprise!) Take Libby: the world she’s i

  Jesus’ words from today’s BiOY reading: ⁴⁸ Then he said to them, “Whoever welcomes this little child in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” Luke 9:48   It’s easy, in theory, for me to be welcoming, and for years our home was a hub of activity. But the past couple of years have made my social reticence/awkwardness more pronounced and easier to embrace. And now, after 2 years of non-use, my social skills have declined, and even some of my “easy” social interactions have become a bit of a chore, sometimes even a source of dread or anxiety—which has shrunk my already-shrunken world considerably. Now that things are opening up again, having a dog who’s as spiky as she is needy does not help—encountering humans now brings a whole new level of stress and need for preparation.   The easiest route, of course, would be to simply avoid encountering humans. But the problem there is that I believe we were created to live in community—and also I’ve d

  From Pippa Gumbel’s commentary on the account of Jesus’ feeding of the 5000 in Luke 9: “ It has been a hard few years: a global pandemic followed by war in Ukraine. I don’t feel I have much to give anyone from my spiritual and emotional tank. But, I love how Jesus uses the disciples to provide for everyone, even without the disciples realising what is happening.”   What a lovely thought: Jesus works through our showing up. Even the small acts of kindness: making eye contact with people we interact with, smiling, being nice to animals, being generous and open to seeing/meeting needs as we encounter them … that’s a good way to live, impactful even. Maybe we’ll get to be part of something significant. Or maybe we’ll just get a smile and the pleasure and satisfaction of knowing that we brightened someone’s day.   #lent2022 #rescuedogsofinstagram #bibleinoneyear #repentandbelieve  

  ¹ I waited patiently for the Lord;   he turned to me and heard my cry. ² He lifted me out of the slimy pit,   out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock   and gave me a firm place to stand. Psalm 40:1   Fans of early U2 will recognize this psalm as the lyrics of 40, from the album War. I’ve always loved the song and the psalm—they’re so comforting and calming. But I know that in this broken world, these words are aspirational, symbolic, because I know that not every person is saved from the pit. It’s one of those most difficult questions of faith: why suffering? Why some and not others? Why isn’t everyone saved?   I could give you a Sunday School answer about the long view and fairness and justice and comfort in eternity, and I would bet my life on that answer being more or less correct, but a future solution to a present problem can fall flat.   So here’s a more immediate question: can we celebrate the one brought up out of the pit, even while we know that

  You have made my days a mere handbreadth;   the span of my years is as nothing before you. Everyone is but a breath,   even those who seem secure. Psalm 39:5 Acknowledging our mortality is always a fun exercise. Our culture does its best to scrub away reminders of our ultimate exit, allowing us to live in a state of shallowly cheerful denial. But death and taxes, baby. These lives of ours are short, and these bodies of ours are fragile. It’s coming for us all. Lent is a good time to remind ourselves of this and to make adjustments as to how we’re moving through this brief and beautiful life. Which brings me to dogs. It seems wrong, unfair, cruel, that their lives are so brutally short. They are a burst of joy and energy and life that burns brightly and then is just gone. (This is actually confirmed by science—dogs’ cells develop and degrade much faster than human cells.) They are fully present … until they’re not. And we live in dread of saying goodbye, of inevitably havi

  From Nicky Gumbel’s commentary on today’s reading from Luke 8: “I have never met a strong person with an easy past. Faith is tested.” Although I imagine this is not universally true, I think it is mostly true of most people. Stress, hardship, testing, tend to strengthen us. It’s in nature and it’s in human nature. When my kids were small, I used to say that I wished for strength and toughness for them through developed muscles, not from scarring—or as my friend Linda Douglas put it, “we’d prefer that they learn some lessons from the textbook and not the field trip.”   But sometimes the field trips of life are where we learn our most important lessons, where we grow the most. To protect ourselves and our children completely from those field trips, were it even possible, would be for them to miss out on much of what it is to be human. Sadness, loss, pain, illness, unfair treatment … all of these things happen in this broken world, and while we don’t wish for them, don’t welcome t

 ⁴¹ “Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. ⁴² Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?” ⁴³ Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said. In this little parable from Luke 7, Jesus defends a “sinful woman” from a pious religious leader who sees her only as her past and social status. This leader also does not truly appreciate who Jesus is and diminishes his presence while he’s diminishing the woman. Jesus points out that the woman, forgiven of much, is naturally going to be more grateful—but he also points out that the religious leader needs forgiveness too; he’s just less likely to realize it. Once again I bring my dogs (MY DOGS!!) into a discussion of holy things. Why do I keep doing this? Honestly. I think of Calvin, who one frustrated (and failed) trainer described as “

  From today's commentary on Luke 7: “ Each person you meet and every situation that confronts you is, in a sense, a test. How are you going to respond to the needs of the people around you, and the situations you find yourself in?” With Libby, each person we meet is an actual test, often one that we both fail. She barks and pulls and ignores me, and I squawk and apologize and drag her away. Others’ need to not get bitten is met, but their need for a normal interaction or perhaps their need to convey certain information to me, which they came specifically to deliver, is not. I still don’t know what our electrician was trying to tell me this morning.   We are trying to do better, working to get to the point where interactions are not so tediously, so noisily about us. I look forward to being back, hopefully soon. Until then, I’ll do a lot of smiling and nodding.   In the meantime, please enjoy this photo of Libby sitting on Feynman, which will never not be funny. #lent202