Grace, Mercy, Love

One thing a year and a half of pandemic has taught us over and over is how interconnected everything is. We don’t need to be as extreme as was Jurassic Park to see the interconnections all around us. For example, I can see that the lockdown increased my landscaper’s depression, which mucked up his business, which left me with weeds and leaves everywhere, which led to the takeover by wildlife of parts of my yard. That’s a mild example mind you. But at last things are approaching a new sort of equilibrium. I have a nicer garden and a recovering lawn and once again am able to enjoy the outdoor space, especially under the star-lit Oregon evening sky. There is grace in the beauty and harmony of creation. And there is mercy in the forgiveness of nature.

Maybe then, there is grace in the equilibrium of life as we regenerate it and mercy too—we are forgiven our early pandemic transgressions the better to let grace fill us with love. Mercy is the action of showing love in the face of pain or adversity. It is a particular form of love in which power differentials shift so that forgiveness replaces the friction caused by the absence of love with the possibility of new love. Love, indeed merciful love, creates more love, which in turn teaches better than any retribution.

The epistle to the Ephesians (4:1-16) reminds us that we must grow up—mature–into loving people (“we must no longer be children … we must grow up in every way”) because the whole body of creation demands mature love, lived out in “humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing one another in love,” bringing grace to all. For how many of us has the pandemic been a “growing up” experience, despite our chronology? For how many of us has the pandemic been a time of mercy and grace?

In John’s Gospel (6:24-35) we have the aftermath of the feeding of five thousand with loaves and fishes. The miracle is followed by Jesus’ attempts to withdraw, to rest and restore. Here there is mutuality in the mercy because Jesus needs the mercy of solitude at the same time that the crowds need the mercy of his explicit love. He preaches that “the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” Of course, he means that he has come to give life to the world. The life he has come to give is the explicit knowledge of the power of love. The message is layered in the examples of grace and mercy, in the metaphor of the “bread of God” which is love, which is the food that endures for eternity. It is in the demonstration of the building of love in the multiplying of the loaves and fishes that we see the true power of God’s love.

The continuing saga of David’s sin (2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a) reveals the truth that all sin against each other is, in essence, sin against God. In his repentance David appeals for mercy and hopes for grace. Psalm 51 reminds us that a clean heart is the result of the receipt of merciful love. It brings us full circle to the mutuality and interconnectedness of creation, to the layered interplay of grace and mercy as pathways to mature love.

Complex theology and scripture lead us to the inevitable conclusion that we are critical players in God’s creation. We are pivotal actors in God’s dominion of love. It is the love we show each other that has the power to heal and restore and regenerate the equilibrium that must now evolve if the pandemic is to be overcome. It is the mature love we must live out that has the power to generate grace through mercy.

It is especially our call as LGBTQ heirs of the dominion of love to play a leading role in this time. It is we, those people who are created in God’s image as people who are identified by our love, who must show all of creation the corners of mercy and the neighborhoods of grace that magnify the love we share. It is we who create logical families with love who can show “humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing one another in love.”

Proper 13 Year B 2021 RCL (2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a; Psalm 51:1-13; Ephesians 4:1-16; John 6:24-35)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Over the River and Through the Woods

I had a surprise this week. A tooth fell apart in stages over a couple of days—first the crown, then another chunk, etc. I called a dentist I had arranged to see anyway (remember I’m still new in town) and they wanted me to come right in but I had a house full of contractors so I really couldn’t just walk out in the middle of all of that potential decision-making. I was rewarded with an early appointment two days later; for me, that time of day might as well be considered the middle of the night—I’d had only two hours of sleep when I had to get up. Still, over I went for my three minute appointment (okay, maybe more like ten). Click click went the xray machine and there was the dentist sending me to an oral surgeon. The tooth has to come right out, sooner the better, don’t even wait until tomorrow.

To say I was in shock is putting it mildly. I was supposed to be having a dinner party that night, I’d been planning the food for days. I was relaxing from the aftermath of all of the long-expected contractor work and really looking forward to getting excited about Christmas. But woot woot there it all went down the emotional drain—I suddenly discovered myself hovering somewhere between terror and apathy—I was allowed enough hours to go home and sleep. I called my dinner guest to cancel, and she offered to drive me there and back, and that reminded us that about 45 years ago we’d gone through this when I had to have my wisdom teeth out suddenly. That was both comforting and hilarious. Well, if my terror could have been considered hilarious that is.

The extraction happened. I won’t go into it, except to commend to readers the healing power of continuously reciting the Lord’s Prayer at such times. I was assured everything else was all right and an implant would be forthcoming. I was forbidden to eat some things and do some other things for a couple of days. This was a terrific opportunity to take some sedatives, sleep, and let my husband order take out. As it happens, I’m now writing this on the morning of the Third Sunday in Advent, listening to a Messiah recording on radio, and pondering the lessons of today’s scripture, which are patience, diligence, and assurance that God’s highway through the wilderness exists for those of us with childlike hearts to find.

Well, things like this sure put a premium on patience. I kept marveling at how suddenly my world had gone topsy-turvy. But in the end, I got a well-deserved rest from a hectic schedule of renovations and entertaining and even writing. I got a lot of sleep. And yesterday, I realized and said to my husband “that tooth had been a problem for 25 years, I’m glad it’s gone!”

Along the way I was welcomed by the dentist as a gay priest, my husband and I were duly treated fully as family by both dentist and oral surgeon, the treatment and care I received were stellar compared to what I had been experiencing over the past several years, meaning we finally have arrived in a healthy environment. Maybe in my shock (I really was too shocked to be worried, the doctors both kept commenting on my blank expression, which they interpreted as misunderstanding until I just said “no I get it entirely, just go ahead.”) I achieved childlike grace sufficient to find the highway God had prepared through this particular wilderness.

I’ve been writing a lot about love lately and that’s because I am still in the midst of experiencing some of the deepest sensations of love in my life. I am alive with love. Love is spilling from my every pore (even through my blank expression, which sometimes manages to crimp into a smile). I know that somehow love carried me through this making it into a beginning, and at the same time reuniting me with my dear friend, who, as it happens, lives over the river and through the woods.

3 Advent (Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11)

©2019 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Snow, snow, snow … and lights, lights, lights*

Two weeks ago when it was still 50 degrees I had three publication deadlines so instead of going out to put up Christmas lights I kept running statistics and writing. It’s what I do. It’s what the university pays me to do. It fulfills me to discover something, each day, something new that nobody else yet knows. That’s the thrill of research. But, then it snowed. And then it was hellaciously cold. And it took a couple of tries before I was able to bear being outdoors long enough to put up a few lights on the front of the house. I asked for help a couple of times and people kept telling me, it has to be done before the snow comes.

But, then again, it is only the third Sunday in Advent. Really, we shouldn’t be putting up lights at all until after the 4^th Sunday in Advent. How I treasure that time as a child when Christmas lights went up the Sunday before Christmas, and all of my town was a magical kingdom of beautiful lights in the snow through Christmas and New Years’ Day up to Epiphany. This was when “the holidays” meant Christmas and New Year’s Day. It’s too bad that people have lost the ability to anticipate. After all, anticipation is 90 percent of the best experiences. Christmas is sweeter for the anticipation, for when it doesn’t happen until Christmas Eve, and then it unrolls in real time as a festival of love.

Yesterday it snowed a whole bunch. I actually love it, and I think it’s beautiful. So I went out in the snow and just walked around knee-deep putting up lights. Bah humbug on all of those people who think you should do it in October! Christmas finally is coming. So now we have some lights in the darkness … oh, now there’s a theme.

James says “be patient, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” That’s the message. But of course, having patience doesn’t mean it isn’t already time for justice. James also says “Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors!” And indeed, God is at the door.

Love, be loved, keep on loving. Have patience, but demand justice.

And don’t worry, Christmas is coming.

A blessed Advent to you all.

 

3 Advent (Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11

©2013 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.