This summer, my husband and I celebrated 10 years of marriage. Which really is ten (plus) years of love and growing complexity. When we got married, it was just us in a BIG apartment. Ten years later, it is us and two growing children in the same not-so-big apartment. We have grown older, our children have grown bigger, our mothers have grown more frail -- and seems like our lives have grown exponentially more complicated.

I pulled out our wedding liturgy for us to re-read on our anniversary day. In 2000, when we said our vows, I suspect that we had only had good intentions and an abstract idea of what we were actually promising.

Last night we observed yet another anniversary of the war in Iraq and the subsequent military action in Afghanistan. We continue to pray for peace even as these wars rage on. On the fence that surrounds the church, over 5000 names are hanging to remember US soldiers who have lost their lives. Blue ribbons hang to mark our prayers for all people, of any nationality, who have been killed or injured. Green ribbons signify prayers for peace anywhere in the world. On this anniversary, I hope that we can all recommit to praying for peace,living in peace and standing for peace.

In preparation for the sermon, I was very moved by this audio clip from National Public Radio. It puts a human face on Lance Corporal Alejandro Yazzi who was killed in Afghanistan in mid-February. I hope you will listen to it in full. (My great thanks to the librarians at WNYC Radio and NPR for sharing this clip with me).

On this day, I pray for the family of Lance Cpl. Yazzi and all the families represented on our fence.

My greatest learning on presence came from my childhood from my wonderful grandfather. He was a paraplegic. For most of my life he was confined to a wheelchair. However, on Saturday night we had an all-important routine. First, he would get his checkbook out and write out his offering check and then place it in the church envelope in preparation for Sunday. Then he would get out his shoeshine kit and his dress shoes and he would polish his shoes for Sunday. I remember late Saturday nights with his wingtips sitting on a piece of newspaper.

The reason that this mundane Saturday night scene holds a place of honor in my memory is because it showed me how important being at church was to my grandfather—and not just the idea of church, but being in church for Sunday morning worship. For him, being there meant a tedious morning dressing up in a suit. It meant rolling down the ramp of our house to the driveway and transferring from the wheelchair to the car with my grandmother’s help. It meant arriving at church as two or three church brothers awaited his arrival. They would help him transfer to the wheelchair, roll him over to the church steps and then CARRY his wheelchair up the stairs and into the sanctuary.

“Be happy. Be content—always, everywhere, in all circumstances—because every circumstance is a gift of love for you from the Eternal Father. That’s why God wants us to rejoice in every one of our troubles, and to praise and give glory to His name—yes, in everything—because God loves you with a forever kind of love.

Buck up! Remember who loves you, and be encouraged today and every day in Christ, gentle Jesus.”

-- Catherine of Siena, Letters

“God loves you with a forever kind of love.” This is such good news. Catherine of Siena was a mystic and Christian laywoman who lived in 14th Century Italy. She offers us contemporary women of faith huge encouragement in this excerpt from one of her letters. She knew about “trouble”—she was the 24th of 25 children in her family; at age seventeen, she contracted smallpox and was permanently disfigured by the disease; she lived a life of chronic, physical pain.

I, like most everyone else, was shocked last week to hear of Michael Jackson’s sudden and untimely death. Immediately, many memories started to come to mind like dancing to Off the Wall at my earliest junior high dances and teaching Jazz (dance) classes to every cut on the Thriller album. But the piercing moment that my heart broke a little and I entered the fellowship of the mourning masses was when I saw one of the videos of an eleven years young Michael Jackson singing and dancing with his brothers in the Jackson Five.

That beautiful little boy inspired the most momentous crush that I have ever had. Somewhere in early elementary school I got the ABC album and it changed my heart forever. From that album, I definitively learned the power of rhythm and blues, the power of charm and charisma and the power of LOVE! My love for Michael Jackson! My room was plastered with posters of Michael. My record player often played that record. I was completely hooked on that beautiful singing and dancing little boy. My dear friend Margaret Ann and I were part of thousands of little girls who screamed through an entire concert of the Jackson Five in Richmond, VA. In my little girl fantasy life, I planned to marry Michael Jackson and have two children named Michael, Jr. and Michaelena.

I have a new hero—an unlikely guy. He is a 70-year old Vietnam vet and a Southerner, born in Louisiana. My new hero is a Roman Catholic Maryknoll priest named Roy Bourgeois. I am a bit discomfited to say that I had not heard of him until recently. But I admire his background: He was ordained a Catholic priest in 1972, and he went on to work as a missionary with poor people in Bolivia.

Later, Father Bourgeois became a missionary in El Salvador and got engaged in activism related to the rape and murder by Salvadoran soldiers of four Catholic laywomen from the United States. All of the above are terrific reasons for him to become my hero, but the actual reason that he has made my hero list now is because he continues to stand on his principles.
 
Along with being an advocate for the poor and a peace advocate, Father Bourgeois has proclaimed his support of the ordination of women to the priesthood in the Roman Catholic Church. Last August he took part in a ceremony to ordain a Roman Catholic woman.

In the last year there much has been written about the crisis in food for hungry people in the United States. Because of a decrease in farm subsidies by the government, there is less overage from farmers and food producers to end up in the food pantries. (remember “government cheese”?) That means that, at a time of economic straits, poor people have an even harder time feeding themselves and their families.

It is the essence of Christian discipleship to respond with compassion to poor, hungry and thirsty people—just as Jesus the Christ did. This is what our congregation will attempt as we officially launch an ongoing food drive this Sunday. The food drive has the simple and directive name of Marble Fights Hunger.

The name is also the intention. The goal of Marble Fights Hunger is that each of us will bring non-perishables to church each time we come. Throw a couple of cans or boxes of food into your briefcase or backpack. Bring several containers of baby food for a hungry New York City family. Pick up an extra canned ham when you are doing your Thanksgiving shopping. It is pretty simple.

...so that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” Of all my days, one that will always be with me is November 4, 2008. 

I consider myself to be a “tweener.” Which is to say, that my grandfather (who raised me with my mother and grandmother) was born in 1899 and my son was born in 2001. Therefore, in my life, I have touched the 19th century and the 21st century—both the past and the future. The past and the future touched on Tuesday night, as I watched Barack Obama become the President-elect of the United States.

Since following every iota of news related to the airplane disappearance of John Kennedy, Jr. a few years ago, I have tried to maintain boundaries around my own emotions and public spectacles. Living in the 24-hour news and gossip cycle makes my efforts very challenging.

However, last week, the situation in the Chicago family home of Jennifer Hudson has pulled both my sadness and my anger. Jennifer Hudson came to my attention on American Idol. Many of us watched as she moved up the ranks to semi-finalist on the televised talent show. Though she did not win, she has created a successful career because of it.

Unfortunately, her family is like so many families in the world—they have experienced domestic violence, which was fatal. Everyone knows what domestic violence is. However, did you know that nearly one-third of all American women report being physically or sexually abused by a husband or boyfriend at some point in their lives? Did you know that, on average, more than three women are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends in the U.S. each day?

My computer crashed yesterday. Anyone who has ever had that happen can groan and sigh along with me. It is not the same level of gravity and feeling as any of the major things that happen in our lives:  births, death, illness, wars and other catastrophes. But it still ranks on the scale as very stressful.

I have prayed, I have spoken to the computer, yelled at the computer, tried to reboot, called the (possibly mis-named) “help” desk and everything else I can think of. Finally, I had to concede that my software is corrupted and the very important project that I am working on is interrupted.

In the world of “practical spirituality” that this church is, a computer crash is an opportunity for deeper trust in God. Those annoying error messages were actually cues to “let go and let God.” Right? I guess the point is that God is in the day-to-day stuff.  God exists to be honored, praised and trusted with the huge miraculous, water-parting stuff and the trivial stuff.