Opening Litany (Mark 16:1-8, NRSV)
L: When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and Salome brought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb.

Refrain: Where is the Body? (verse 1)

L: They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.

Refrain: Where is the Body? (verse 2)

L: As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Refrain: Where is the Body? (verse 2)

L: That first morning, we remember, was not so joyful. We know that Jesus had risen, but they did not. They knew only that the body of their friend – after torture and execution – had been buried in a borrowed tomb.
They knew only that Jesus had died and that the tomb was empty.

Refrain: Where is the Body (verse 1)

Opening Prayer
L: Let us pray.
P: O merciful God, we look to Easter as the defining event of all time. We look at the empty tomb as proof of your power and evidence of Jesus’ resurrection. We see that morning as a joyful expression of hope and, because of it, look forward to our own resurrection into the new heavens and new earth
However, your word reminds us that all of that was still unknown in those early hours. For the Mary’s and Salome, the empty tomb was a symbol of the continued need to wonder what happened, and what it meant for them.
Give us fresh insight, we pray, into the depths of Christ’s resurrection and all that surrounded it. This we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

You can download the .pdf here.

Grace and peace,
`tim

O Holy One,
we are a sleepy lot,
slow to stir to the calling of the cosmos,
deaf to the cries of Earth
and the forgotten ones,
human and other-than-human.

We distract ourselves
with trivialities that have become idols;
while the sun and the moon darken,
and the stars fall from the skies,
we are mesmerized by the market’s alluring power,
eyes unflinchingly fixed upon the naval of our own net worth.

“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,”
cries the prophet,
or at least tear open our hearts, pry open our eyes,
and end this slumber that blocks out pain,
but with it, wonder.

Our hope, O Holy One, is found in eyes wide open,
in hearts linked in common cause,
in small gestures of compassion,
and in alertness to your coming,
again and again.
As a fire kindles brushwood
and causes water to boil,
so we await to be set on fire
with hope and gospel passion.
Amen.

Individuals are singular wholes made up of many parts, but are also parts in the larger whole of congregations. Congregations similarly are whole entities, in themselves, but are also parts of larger wholes (denominations/conferences/etc.)

Congregations, as whole-entities (which are also parts of larger entities), develop in organic and predictable ways just like people do.

There seems to be evidence that the predictability of the congregational life cycle is very stable – perhaps even universal.

All of that said, one of the fundamental aspects of life-stage theories (as I understand them, though I’m no expert) is the idea that upon truly (or healthily – depending on the theory) entering a new stage, one cannot revert to a previous one. Although one can experience a later (or earlier) state without actually entering the stage, that’s different concept.

I’m wondering what you think about that?

I’m currently reading an excellent book that splits the congregational life-cycle into 8 (7) stages:

The Establishing Stage
The Formation and Formatting Stage
The Adolescence Stage
The Prime Stage
The Maturity Stage
The Aristocracy Stage (not all congregations go through this one)
The Bureaucracy Stage
The Dissolution Stage

Here’s my dissonance: While I agree that the stages are predictable and consistent across the board, I have a problem believing that once a congregation passes (for example) the “Prime” stage, that everything’s essentially downhill from there.

Thoughts?

Is the life-cycle of a congregation linear (once you pass a stage you cannot return to it)?

Is the life-cycle of a congregation cyclical (you can cycle back from a “later stage” to a REformation and REformatting stage and eventually enter a new Prime?)

Something else?

Grace and peace,
`tim

For those of you who don’t know my religious world, the RCA is the Christian denomination I was ordained in and to which my congregation belongs. General Synod is our annual denominational meeting. It is a week-long time of worship, deliberation, fellowship, decision-making, and catching-up. Those who love it (like me) consider it one of the best weeks of the year..

Time permitting, I will be blogging on the events of this year’s Synod. Those of you who regularly follow this blog will get the posts in your normal fashion. Anyone interested in simply reading the Synod blogs, can go directly to the following link:

Please do not hesitate to let me know if you have any questions or clarifications. I cannot guarantee how many posts I’ll have the time and energy to put up, but I will certainly do my best to respond to comments and questions.

Grace and peace,
`tim

On the off chance that you’re interested, here’s the tune I wrote for our Sunday’s service (.pdf):

Grace and peace,

  `tim

I haven’t decided whether or not to keep podcasting, but would appreciate your thoughts – feel free to drop me an e-mail if you have an opinion!

Grace and Peace,
`tim

The theodicy, in short, is the question of how we reconcile the beliefs that (1) God is good, and (2) evil exists. In other words, how do I respond to the accusation that a good God would not allow bad things to happen (at least to good people). If God truly loved us (and were truly sovereign) why not eliminate murder, rape, natural disasters, etc.

I don’t presume to have the answer – after all, theologians have struggled (unsuccessfully) to provide an adequate answer to the problem for thousands of years, but in light of the disturbing frequency of large-scale disasters, let me offer my perspective, as flawed as it may be.

Bad things happen because of sin – your sin, my sin, the sin of our parents, the sin of their parents, and the sin of hundreds of generations of humans compounded over the course of thousands of years.

The sad reality of existence on our planet is that all of this sin has wrecked havoc on the world and, because of it, the original balance and harmony of the natural order (world, humanity, God, etc.) has been corrupted to the point of breakage.

Let me be clear: this is not an accusation that bad things happen to individuals (or communities) because of their individual (or communal) sin (even though, there is no question that some individual behaviors do have painful and problematic side-effects). In other words, New Orleans didn’t flood because it was a sinful city. Japan didn’t experience earthquakes and tsunamis because it was a sinful country. These disasters (and so many more) are the result of the overarching scourge of sin in the world and the corruption it has unleashed on the world order irrespective of the individuals involved.

The same can be said for the bodily corruption experienced by so many. Disease and sickness are, equally as much, a result of sin – although, like “natural disasters,” it is not merely the sin of the suffering individual, it is the reality that sin has corrupted the goodness of the human creature even down to the genetic level.

Could a good God stop it? Of course! If, indeed, that God were sovereign (which I believe the Christian God is). Then why not do it? I don’t know. People who know me well know that I believe in a three-fold understanding of knowledge: There are (1) the things we know, (2) the things we don’t know, and (3) the things we can logically infer from the things we know and the things we don’t know. The theodicy fits solidly in the #2 category, but because the #1 category contains Romans 8:28, I’d suggest that #3 category allows us to say this: God does not eliminate evil because God apparently has a higher purpose that self-requires allowing it.

I don’t know what that purpose is (duh! I am not God!), yet I imagine it has something to do with human choice and God’s consistent practice of allowing it (even when it causes pain and suffering to those around us). Put bluntly, while God is sovereign (and thus could illuminate sin and its repercussions) God apparently has a self-imposed rule to not treat us like pawns on a chess board. Thus God allows us to sin. Thus sin, over the centuries and millennia has affected the world at every possible level. Thus we experience pain, disease, and disaster (as a result of that sin).

I hope that helps….

Grace and Peace,
`tim

In case you’re interested, here’s the content of the booklet I’ve put together:
* Booklet Cover
* Class Outline
* RCA Constitutional Liturgy (also available from RCA.org)
* RCA Directory for Worship (also available from RCA.org)

Of course, don’t hesitate to use freely or let me know if you have questions.

Grace and Peace,
`tim

EDT: Fix typos in Class Outline

In short: Nope.

I imagine a number of my friends will have a deeply negative reaction to that statement. It has, after all, become common place in many parts of the church to imagine that part of the Christian existence is to learn how to accept one’s self for who and what they (we) are. The problem with that is simple: we are fallen; we are something we were not intended to be. We are sinners – albeit sinners in the hands of a gracious God.

I’ll be fair, as a Reformed pastor, part of my understanding here is formed by the belief in “total depravity.” It isn’t, however, my Reformed credentials that leads me to call this a heresy. It is something more basic – if Christianity is about affirming one’s self as currently experienced there is no point in it at all. Why bother?!

A few weeks ago I said these words in a sermon:

You see, even though we don’t always like to hear this, the Bible doesn’t portray the human existence as something to embrace as it is, the Bible portrays the human existence as something in need of redemption. In other words, [our] natural state… is fundamentally in need of a change – it isn’t, anymore, what it was meant to be.

In other words, to become what humanity was intended to become, we need to be redeemed — we need God to re-create us… to re-make us.

This does not, of course, suggest that we should force one another to fit into a particular cookie-cutter understanding of “Christian” or even “human;” nor does it suggest that we have the right (or that it is “right”) to demand others fit into our tidy little definitions of what “ought to be.” However, it does suggest that, when we seek affirmation or offer it, the Christian response is not simply to affirm what is but rather to joyfully and eagerly seek what is meant to be.

Thoughts?

Grace and peace,
`tim

I miss the old cartoons. Perhaps you know the ones I’m thinking of – these were the rough-hewn cartoons where a can of spinach could turn someone into a muscle-bound powerhouse – the ones where an anvil (or piano) could fall on your head and you’d walk away bouncing up and down like an accordion. I remember the sounds of an obnoxious woodpecker and the antics of old coyote who ordered all of his unsuccessful road-runner-catching equipment from a mysterious but compelling company called Acme. Of course, there were also bouncing gummy bears and a hundred little blue men who seemed to always be in trouble with a mean old wizard. They might not have been high art and contemporary parents often judge them as overly violent and simplistically moralistic, but there was one thing you could find in every one of them: the famous light bulb.

It didn’t matter who it was, whenever someone had a seemingly brilliant idea, a light bulb always appeared above their head to brightly proclaim the character’s epiphany – that moment of transition from ignorance to wisdom – from darkness to light.

Epiphany, in the church, is remarkably similar to that that ever-present cartoon light bulb. It is the day we commemorate a once-in-history change from darkness to light… from ignorance to wisdom… from death to life. Epiphany is the celebration of Jesus, the light of the world – “the true light which enlightens everyone.” (Jn. 1:9)

Perhaps you’re asking: but isn’t that what Christmas is all about? The answer, surprisingly, is “no.” Sure, Christmas is all about the birth of a messiah, but it was the Israelites’ Messiah, not the world’s. Epiphany celebrates that Jesus came for us too. This is why we often talk about the Magi on Epiphany – they were, we believe, the first gentiles to recognize Jesus for who and what he was.

Epiphany is celebrated in many ways around the world. Some communities burn their Christmas trees on Epiphany to create a gigantic “light” in honor of Christ’s coming; in some traditions, families use chalk to write the year and the letters CMB on their door frames (the traditional names for the magi were Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, the letters also conveniently reference the phrase “Christus Mansionem Benedicat” which means “may Christ bless this dwelling”) – this year the chalking would be: 2+0+C+M+B+1+1 (you might even see it above the exit doors in some churches).

This year we will be gathering at church on January 6th to celebrate Epiphany. There will be a soup dinner followed by a short litany and an outside tree burning. Please dress warm and join us to celebrate Christ’s glorious incarnation – if you have a real tree, bring it along, we’ll even include it in the celebration!

Grace and Peace,
`tim