Breaking News: Today, the author from Forward's January 2021 issue becomes the Rector of St. James, Marietta, the Church where I worship and work. She's The Rev. Mariclair Partee Carlsen, and I wrote an appreciation of her daily meditations years before I knew she would one day be my priest and my boss. See Comfort Food from Forward Day by Day.
- Gal 3.28 is the famous phrase about how in Christ "there is no longer slave or free, male or female," but Mathis cautions that "everyone is equal" is different from "everyone is the same," and we all need to appreciate the differences.
- Jesus listens to the Syrophoenician woman after he initially rebuffs her, listening with respect, and moved to act on her behalf.
- Mathis asks if we ever strike out in irritation when we're overwhelmed by personal crises and world news. Exasperated with the disciples, Jesus asks, "do you not yet understand?" With "yet," he implies that he's sticking with them even if they don't get it.
- He called Peter and Andrew from their fishing boat, without first interviewing them, imagining what they would become in his relationship with them. Us, too.
- Mathis sees that James and John aren't looking for power so much as reassurance that they will be okay in the time to come. Jesus gives them a chance to commit to "rise to the challenge" and assures them, they will. We, too, should hear how people are often asking, indirectly, for reassurance that they're okay.
- Seeing how the crowd is annoyed by the blind man who calls to Jesus for help, Jesus stays put and tells those same people to bring the man forward, enlisting them as partners in the cure that follows. Us, too.
Her takes on these stories illustrate Maya Angelou's observation, "People will forget what you said, they will even forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."
Reading Mathis in February prepared me for a chance meeting that month with a former student at a local food court. He called out, "Mr. Smoot???" I didn't know his name, how many years before retirement I'd taught him, or what class it might have been. But I could (and did) say, "Although I've lost all the details, what I do remember is a lot of strong positive feelings -- that you are courteous, curious, kind, and funny." He took a selfie with me "because no one will believe I saw you." I hope that means I made him feel valued, too.
Some other passages stand out in Mathis's writings.
"Blessed are those who mourn," Mathis quotes, for they have experienced love. Their mourning is a blessing. Mathis adds, "don't think that the one who mourns fastest" (and just "gets over it") wins.
Mathis recalls being enthralled by the language of the Episcopal liturgy, so like the Arthurian fantasy books she read as a little girl. Yet the sonorous "prayer of humble access" also let her close. "My little girl self still catches her breath at the thought."
The story of the widow brings the observation that she's giving her all, while everyone else is giving God a 10% tip.
In childhood, Mathis memorized Psalm 134, all two verses. Telling us of occasions when those words spoke to her, she observes, "What we pray when we pray together as a community forms us... I'm anchored... not only by the words said... but also by the power and presence of God experienced each time they are prayed."
When Hebrews tells us to pay attention, Richards notes the average adult'sattention span is now only 8.53 seconds, so "Some of you will have stopped reading by now." I can relate to how the Sanctus bells bring his wandering mind back "to attend the mystery."
About humility, Richards says, "It's one thing to be zealous for God. It is quite another to inflict that zealotry on others." When you take God into "the marketplace," he writes, don't forget "God is God, and we are not." Also about witnessing, he remembers how the TV lawyer Matlock used to "crack" witness testimonies. Every day, Christians are on the stand about Jesus. We're no longer persecuted, but, he warns, we are being scrutinized.
Richards tells about the first time he left his daughter at Preschool, how he could think of nothing else but her all day. Like the father of the prodigal son, like God. (And, I'll add, like me last month when I was in NYC away from Brandy.)
When Jesus says he's the shepherd who stands at the gate, I've always heard the negative connotation of "gatekeeper," i.e., one who excludes the wrong kinds of sheep, people, whatever. Courtney says that the shepherd would lie down across the narrow gate so that any predator had to cross him first. Jesus is not excluding, but offering protection.
Responding to Acts 2.36 ("They were cut to the heart" with regret for killing Jesus), Courtney illustrates repentance with a familiar anecdote about the priest in a French village who excluded the body of a Protestant soldier from the church's graveyard. His comrades buried their friend as close as possible to the cemetery wall. But when they came the next morning to pay last respects, they couldn't locate the site. The priest, unable to sleep as he repented his ban, rose in the night to move the wall to include their friend. "Repentance," Weber quotes another source, "is moving beyond the mind you have."
A couple of meditations stand out because they don't offer answers to distressing questions. Isaiah's poetry imagines restoration, good news for the poor, sight to the blind, prisoners released from dungeons. "We struggle more to believe that GOd's plan for this hurting world will be enacted." Then, she responds to a bit of the letter 1 John 2.14, addressing "young people" who are "strong." Courtney observes that young people are missing from the churches nationwide. She hears from them, "They are tired of being lectured or sung to all the while not having a chance to ask questions, disagree, and engage" She has no easy answers, but holds on to John's statement that young people "are strong and the love of God abides in them." [More to follow]
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