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Imitation

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This is the third entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2016 series. This devotional reflection comes from Dr. Jimmy Watson Pastor if Immanuel UCC in Ferguson, Missouri.. This devotional reflects the views of the author and not the views of UCCDM.

“Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us.” (Philippians 3:17)

These days we talk much about privilege. White, male, heterosexual privilege. The privilege of wealth, height, and beauty. The list is long and yet not long enough to include my 20-year-old stepdaughter who was born with mental disabilities, including finding a spot on the autism spectrum. Megan’s only privilege is that she will live most, if not all, of her life in close proximity to her family. She will never, however, enjoy the privileges of meaningful work or marriage and raising children. For Megan, the operative word is “limitation” rather than “imitation.”

Most of us seek to imitate those who have been successful in one way or another, even when we do not have the same privileged starting point. We want to imitate those with successful careers or those who have significant talents, even when the odds are stacked against us because of our family of origin, limited resources, or lack of acumen or natural abilities.

Megan’s attempts to imitate those who are an example of how to live is limited to very simple tasks such as sweeping floors, wiping off countertops, and making her bed in the morning—tasks that give her enormous satisfaction and a taste of wholeness.

While most people would not consider imitating those with physical and mental limitations, I have learned in my brief stint as Megan’s stepparent that she sets an example for the rest of us in ways that the privileged are hesitant to admit: utter humility without a speck of pomposity, no desire to leave a heavy carbon footprint on the environment, a childlike curiosity that knows no limitations, and finally, an unconditional love for her family, friends, and caretakers with a default setting of forgiveness.

There is no arrogance, materialism, close-mindedness, or grudges in Megan’s world. It is a world of wonder, love, and simplicity. Knowing her has been a true privilege.

Prayer—Dear God, we might be limited in who we are called to imitate, so we give thanks for those souls who offer us examples of how to be human in ways that never crossed our privileged minds. Amen.

 

A Devotion For Holy Saturday

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This is the sixth entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2015. This reflection for the Holy Saturday comes to us from Rev.Jeanne Tyler who is  the current Vice Chair of UCCDM. Her bio can be found on the Board of Directors page. 

I grew up in the Episcopal Church in which most every Sunday we said the Apostle’s Creed together. On rare occasions we said the Nicene Creed. I remember saying the words, “crucified and died, descended into hell and rose on the third day. Now, The New Century Hymnal says, “…was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended to the dead. On third third day he rose again;…”.

The Saturday of Holy Week is called Holy Saturday. Like the day of crucifixion is called Good Friday the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday is named Holy Saturday. I have come to ponder that the naming reflects the reality of reconciliation and redemption. I have come to treasure Holy Saturday. In our daily lives we experience times of defeat and times of victory; times of death and times of life; times of despair and times of joy. We struggle mightily.

For persons with disability, the struggle is complicated by the devil named normalcy. The devil is in the details of living. The grace with which you walk, the ease with which you talk and are understood, your high or low intellect, wheelchair bound, sight impaired, sugar high or way too low, too depressed to get up, too angry to talk, too manic to sit down, talk to people who are not in the room and perhaps have never been in the room. The devil of normalcy is in our minds; it is in our bodies and there is hell to pay.

Holy Saturday is the time of dead. Jesus arrived in the dead as you and I will bearing the scars of life. It is where our deadness meets the deadness of Jesus and where Jesus experienced the devil of normalcy. Yet this deadness is also the darkness which is also fertile and where all growth begins. I call Holy Saturday a day of fertile darkness.

Holy Saturday is the day we tell our stories of pain and anger and cry and experience the reconciliation and redemption of community that turns our cries of pain and anger to tears of joy. It is because Jesus has been here and is still here in the time of the dead that we are able to face ourselves and one another. Within Holy Saturday there is fertile darkness where the seeds of flowers make their beginning or the community makes the mystery of resurrection known as an act of God’s love for all humanity.

Holy Saturday is the day the devil is paid. We are one another’s friends and the reality of reconciliation and redemption is at hand. We are free to love one another, free to forgive ourselves and one another. We are free to proclaim in the growing dawn that which was beginning in the nighttime, Alleluia Christ is Risen!

A Devotion for Good Friday: The Cross of the Visually Impaired

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This is the fifth entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2015. This reflection for Good Friday comes to us from Rev.Lynda Bigler who is  the current Chair of UCCDM. Her bio can be found on the Board of Directors page. 

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Being legally blind, to me many trees look like lollipops, with their trunks as the stems and their canopies the pops.The tall pines, spruce, and firs that grow here in the Pacific Northwest are like gigantic arrows hoisted far above the ground by sturdy brown shafts.

Our town requires a permit to cut down a tree and homeowners are allowed to cut down only 2 trees on their property per year. Avoiding obtaining a permit or exceeding the permitted number results in a $2,000 fine per removed tree.  In 2015 the tree permit process was modified to state that people removing trees must replant one tree on their property for each one removed.

This permit process assumes that trees are living things, not to be destroyed for random reasons such as a dislike of raking leaves fallen onto a driveway or a desire to eliminate the pesky birds nested in the tree. The number one reason for eliminating a tree here is a dislike of its appearance or color.  The permit process tries to remind us that nature is comprised of living things rather than inanimate objects subject to human whims.

And then it came to me:  Imagine the cross of Jesus as a tree that gave up its life for him.

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There is so much more to a tree than its looks.

In winter people often talk about the quiet, empty, barren landscape of trees.  They look forward to spring when the trees once again will come to life. In the world of the blind and visually impaired, winter trees can be one noisy bunch. They rattle and creak when covered with ice.  Their branches are the surfaces that allow wind to whistle as it blows over them. Swaying branches whoosh like waves breaking on the beach. The scent of evergreens fills the air with a hint of Christmas all winter long.

In spring and summer the trees are full of birdsong and scampering, chattering squirrels.  Trees hiss as rain falls through their leafy canopies. The wind rustles their leaves like girls rustle their crinoline dresses. Apple blossoms, orange blossoms, magnolias, and many other flowering trees fill the air with their sweet scents and promises of what is yet to come at harvest.

In autumn, the world is full of brightly colored lollipops — such an exciting change from the usual green ones!  Autumn brings falling leaves of all colors and shapes as trees shed their “clothing” before going to sleep.  As we walk along streets or sidewalks or forest paths, we hear the crunch of fallen leaves below our feet.  Fallen raked leaves bring fun and laughter as children and adults jump into them.  Although the leaves have died they bring joy to those left behind.  The leaves smell of decay, but their fruits and nuts make us salivate for their taste and sustenance.

The trees ease into sleep. While they appear to be dead, they are actually undergoing significant renewal and strengthening for their rebirth in spring. I am reminded that Holy Saturday is needed for the beauty and joy of Easter to arrive.

Tree trunks vary in texture from rough to smooth.  Most trees in my yard are rough, but the birches shed their bark as they grow, leaving a smooth, wet new skin behind. Bark can be fragrant like cedar or sappy like maples. Moss and English Ivy choke the alder trees beside our house so that when their branches fall, the bark, starved of nutrients, slides right off.

When blood and sweat ran down Jesus’ face as he carried his cross, I wonder if his blurred vision led him to feel each intricate detail of the cross in his hands: the texture, it’s fragrance.  For example, I wonder if his cross still held the scent of a Lebanon cedar. As a carpenter, did the smell of fresh cut wood remind him of his trade as he walked?  Was the cross splintered from being roughly cut?

When Jesus carries his cross to Golgotha, I think of him as beginning his journey as a person with a disability. His vision impaired, his other senses enhanced, Jesus walked toward the physical breaking of his body.  His body, broken for me, enables me, as a person with a disability, to know Jesus has experienced all that we with disabilities experience each minute of every day:  difficulty navigating, struggling to see and speak, unable to hear, mobility a challenge, thoughts a little disorganized or appearing slow, appearance a little bit different sometimes.  Jesus was subjected to the same bullying and taunting that people with disabilities receive.

Jesus asked God to forgive them, for “they know not what they do.”  I, too, forgive, but like Jesus, I also teach ways to act differently. Jesus shows us the big picture of life and death, and big pictures are the specialty of the visually impaired.

When the broken body of Jesus was carried to the tomb, it was carried with love and respect, the same kind of love and respect that those with disabilities may feel from God but not from those around them. How reassuring to know that one day, our bodies, like his, will also be carried with such love and respect.

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I collect crosses.  Each cross in my collection is meaningful to me, not just a fancy piece of sculpture or a fashion statement of jewelry. Each cross is tactile, made from differing materials with varying textures. I have one made of highly polished Koa wood from Hawaii, another made of seashells collected on beach walks in the Bahamas, another made of river rocks by Native Americans living on Oregon’s Warm Springs Indian Reservation.

But my favorite tactile cross was handmade by Frank Poszgai here is Oregon. Intricate yet sturdy, this wooden cross for me is a symbol of the church since the death of Jesus.

What better illustration can there be to connect Jesus and the tree of his cross than to illustrate Jesus’ own words, “I am the vine; you are the branches”?  Imagine this cross planted in the ground, it’s base sending roots to anchor it to the earth, it’s top reaching for heaven, it’s arms reaching out for each and every one of us.  This indeed is the tree of life, grown from the cross of Jesus.  It reminds us to stay rooted in God’s creation, to raise our praise to God in heaven, and reach out to each of God’s creatures.

Imagine the cross of Jesus, covered in a growing vine. A vine strong enough for hands to hold on to and never fear of falling off. I do not need to see the vine to know it is there. All I need to do is feel its strength, know it is alive, and believe that if I reach through the gaps between leaves, I can help pull others to the safety of God.

A Devotion for the Fourth Sunday In Lent

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This is the fourth entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2015. This reflection comes to us from Mr. Robert Kates an M.Div. student at Brite Divinity School. 

Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and God saved them

God sent out God’s word and healed them, and delivered them from destruction.

Psalm 107:19-20 (NRSV)

As a child, I would cry out to my mother and father when I was afraid, cranky, hungry, or in pain. My parents always seemed to be there for me, coming to my rescue, though today I know they were not. Not that they did not care for me. They were both busy medical doctors, always hearing the cries of others and not always mine. However they did make sure I was always comforted, always held and rocked to sleep, always fed, and always healed, having those ‘boo boos’ on my knees and hands kissed away with kindness.

I was blessed as a child, as many were not and still today aren’t. My parents could not always be there for me or with me, but I have come to know that they desperately cared for me, by supporting me with the love and kindness of others. I was truly blessed as a child.

Many years later, both my mother and father, have passed on to what I believe is the ultimate life to be living. Yet in their absence I have come to know my Mother/Father/God is always, somehow present in my life. Just as my parents were always, somehow present in my life, my Heavenly Parent is also.

I still have periods in my life when I am afraid, cranky, and hungry or in pain. Not as a child anymore, but now as an adult, an adult dealing with the consequences of physical disabilities. And just as that child I have cried out to my God, pleading for comfort, desperately needing the therapeutic solace of being rocked to sleep at night in my pain, to be fed when I could not swallow, and to have my old man ‘boo boo’s’ on my legs massaged away so I could attempt to walk again.

It is not easy feeling like one is a child again, at the mercy of the world around you. But again I am blessed. For my God is always present, through God’s own actions of care or those healing actions by others where God’s spirit resides.

I was blessed as a child, but now I know I am truly blessed even as an adult. Thanks be to God.

Our Mother/Father/God, from time to time…we all cry out to You. From time to time…we all share multiple inabilities within ourselves that we are afraid to face. From time to time…we all become lost and seek your guidance.  So dear God of All possibilities, show us, lead us to awareness, make us face those challenges in life, that from time to time, stand in our way. Make us realize that with Your Support and Your Love, there is always another way, perhaps even a better way. For it is within Your possibilities we find our way and our selves. Amen.

A Word of Hope on Ash Wednesday

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This is the second entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2015. This reflection for Ash Wednesday comes to us from Mr. Robert Kates an M.Div. student at Brite Divinity School. 

But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

~Matthew 6:6 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

I have prayed to my Mother/Father, God, many times behind my closed door. First, over twenty-five years ago when I felt that door slam in my face with the reality of HIV/AIDS and now these past seven years having developed polymyositis, a disease that affects all the muscles of the body. For that door opens onto a staircase leading down to the first floor. There are 14 steps.

However doors do have door knobs, God has shown them to me. They can be opened and walked through, even though now I may require a walker. And that staircase beyond my door must be descended cautiously, and climbed passionately. Yet still God has shown me nothing is impossible, nothing is forever, everything has possibilities even when they seem ultimately futile. There is always hope or another way to achieve things.

The door that slammed in my face twenty-five years ago has miraculously turned into a chronic disease, no longer an ultimate death certificate, and not to become the last door in my life with which to deal.

The door opening onto my exterior staircase going down those fourteen, very scary steps, may eventually be replaced by a door leading onto a ground level sidewalk with no steps, maybe perhaps an easy sloping ramp.

God has shown me my abilities by rewarding me with the knowledge to take care of myself. How to turn the door knobs in life. God has given me back my life, my dignity, to take control of my life once again and live it to its fullest. Abling me to transcend many doors, and descend and ascend many staircases.

For there are doors for everyone to heal behind and then venture out from. Doors are of benefit, meant for privacy and intimacy, but never for exclusion.

Right before Christmas, this year, I had a relapse of my polymyositis. I was in the middle of fall, final exams at seminary. I fell and could not walk for three days. Today I can, but carefully. This is encouraging considering I graduate this spring from seminary and hope to be ordained in two years, before I turn 65.

Perhaps God still wants me to keep walking out that door to the staircase, to use those steps as daily exercise so as to forestall my disease, perhaps negate it. Perhaps God keeps challenging me, because once I am ordained, my concern will be with other people’s challenges. I hope always to have doors to pass through, and pray behind.

Ash Wednesday Devotion

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This is the first entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional 2015 series. This reflection for Ash Wednesday comes to us from Rev. Jeanne Tyler, Co-Chair of UCCDM Board of Directors. Her bio can be found on the Board of Directors page. 

2 ¹ Blow the trumpet in Zion;
    sound the alarm on my holy mountain!
Let all the inhabitants of the land tremble,
    for the day of the Lord is coming, it is near—
2 a day of darkness and gloom,
    a day of clouds and thick darkness!
Like blackness spread upon the mountains
    a great and powerful army comes;
their like has never been from of old,
    nor will be again after them
    in ages to come.

¹²Yet even now, says the Lord,
    return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
13     rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
    for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
    and relents from punishing.
14 Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
    and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
    for the Lord, your God?

15 Blow the trumpet in Zion;
    sanctify a fast;
call a solemn assembly;
16     gather the people.
Sanctify the congregation;
    assemble the aged;
gather the children,
    even infants at the breast.
Let the bridegroom leave his room,
    and the bride her canopy.

17 Between the vestibule and the altar
    let the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep.
Let them say, “Spare your people, O Lord,
    and do not make your heritage a mockery,
    a byword among the nations.
Why should it be said among the peoples,
    ‘Where is their God?’”

~Joel 22:1-2 12-17 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)

I like Ash Wednesday. I like being marked with the sign of a cross in ashes on my forehead. I feel placed in community as an equal to all those alongside me. We hear ancient words like “Blow the Trumpet”, “gather the people”, “listen”, and “rend your hearts and not your garments”. It seems strange to write about hearing the words when I struggle to hear.

I like being in line with others in front and in back of me waiting to be marked with the sign of the cross. I feel placed in community as an equal to those in front and those in back. We wait patiently expectantly for the time will come. It seems strange to write about walking as though it is a given when I experience trouble with balance.

I like hearing the word “repent”. It means to change. I discover in the Book of Joel, God is repenting along with humanity. For the prophet Joel it is the people that are called to repent. It is the community that is called to repent. And it is also God who repents of the anger that if activated could destroy creation. Joel’s take is why would God place the divine reputation to the test?

When I read the Prophet Joel, I am reminded of the community to which I belong is the source of my being. The community is powerful enough to place me as an equal among others. This is truly a blessing for I experience alienation from myself and from others.

Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent which is a journey that the community takes together. The journey changes us. Repentance for persons with disability may mean giving up passivity in light of the disability and taking on activism on behalf of the self and others. It may mean claiming gifts that come alongside the disability. It may mean an acknowledgement that the community needs the wholeness and holiness we include to be whole and holy in and of herself as church. Repentance may mean for persons who are temporarily able bodied and able mindful to be attentive to and committed to the inclusion of all gifts of all people. This makes the church whole and holy. The journey means all these things and more but surely these are essential to the journey that is Lent.

UCCDM Lenten Devotional-EASTER, A Letter to Angel’s Caretaker

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This is the eleventh and final entry in the UCCDM Lenten Devotional. This reflection for Easter Sunday comes to us from the Rev. Dallas (Dee) Brauninger. She is a former UCCDM Secretary and Board Member her bio can be found on the Former Board of Directors page. Rev. Dallas (Dee) Brauninger also received the 2013 UCCDM Award.

Easter

Faith reflected in a note to the man in an Iowa prison who socialized Leader Dog Angel for a year:

You did a fine job of socializing Leader Dog Angel.  She and her trainer arrived at my house on Sunday, January 12. I will give it my all to be a good person for her to guide. Angel is my fourth dog guide since 1986. She returns my freedom to get around and have a life filled with doing meaningful things for others.

Thanks for teaching her how to return a thrown ball without a tease. I will see that she balances her lifework of patiently guiding a 70-year-old woman with the joy of play and being a “dog” dog when she is off duty.

I am proud of Angel’s first career of loving and trusting you.  She knows about trust. She gives freely of her love. You must have a wonderful soul to have encouraged these tender qualities. You gave her a solid start in her profession as dog guide — good habits and good behavior. I respect and thank you for the kind, gentle way in which you taught her.

You surely miss her. I wish well for you. I pray that you will continue to choose life-giving ways. I hope that whenever life is tough you can remember this dog who told you clearly that she accepts and trusts you to give her what she needed, no matter what your past chapters. Sometimes we need an angel to remind us to hope. If you were the one who named her, you saw her soul.

Though strangers, you and I share the gift of knowing Angel. She takes the loneliness out of my blindness. Perhaps she also lessened the loneliness of this Lenten time of your incarceration by helping you also to see yourself as a person who can respect and trust yourself. Nothing can separate you from what she gave to you.

I know the plans I have for you, to give you a future with hope. Jeremiah 29