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Thanksgiving

"I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new." (Emerson).

The holiday Americans celebrate today is rooted in the unique story of this country going as far back as four hundred years. While the story itself may remain unclear to many of us, we reap the annual benefits of gathering with our loved ones, sharing a meal of abundance, and pausing to reflect on the source of our provision and blessing. It is my favorite holiday, and although attempts are made every year to turn it in to a consumer-driven primer for Christmas, by and large, it has retained its special sacredness and simplicity.

In 1620, one hundred and two English seperatists set sail from Plymouth, England for the New World. These dissenters, who left England to preserve their cultural identity and seek religious freedom, were brought to the America's by a crew of 30 men on board the Mayflower. According to tradition, they landed at Plymouth Rock -- except there is no record of such a place in their writings and the story was probably made up as a nice little addition to American folklore.

The English arrived in desperate condition and were not prepared to survive in the new world. By the end of that first winter, fifty percent of them had died from disease. As they were trying to fight their way from death that spring, a native of the Patuxet people named Squanto made contact and be-friended the remaining English. Squanto knew the English language because he had been kidnapped by Englishman Thomas Hunt who attempted to sell him into slavery in Spain. When some friars caught wind of this, they took Squanto (and many others) in order to teach them about the Christian faith. He eventually found his way to London and on a return journey to his homeland on board another English ship.

When Squanto returned home, he found all of his people dead from disease...disease brought by the English.

That Squanto could move past his great losses and personal tragedy brought on by Englishmen and be-friend the very people who had cost him so dearly is a remarkable and admirable part of our shared story. The Plymouth settlement could not have succeeded without him. He taught the colonists how to plant corn and how to eat from the wilderness. He served as interpreter between Chief Massasoit of the Wampanoag people and the English and helped forged an alliance between the English and Wampanoag for mutual defense against their enemies.

Over the summer of 1621 and with the assistance of their native friends, the English produced and stockpiled an admirable harvest. As was custom in the era, a harvest feast was planned for the late autumn. Contrary to folklore, the Wampanoag weren't actually invited to the feast but showed up anyhow. Since they shared a treaty with one another, the English were obliged to show hospitality. The 60-90 warriors who traveled with Massasoit most likely made a huge dent in the winter stockpile during the three days of feasting and games. The English, should they have visited the Wampanoag villages, could have expected the same hospitality in return.

There was no turkey on that first Thanksgiving menu (yet another folksy addition to the story). Instead, they ate mainly venison, codfish, boiled pumpkin, wild berries, and something called the Three Sisters (a mixture of maize, beans, and squash). Potatoes were in abundance, but the English thought they were poisonous and would not touch them.

This story remained a respected and revered part of our American allegory for centuries. The Continental Congress issued a first National Proclamation of Thanksgiving in 1777. George Washington declared a day of Thanksgiving on October 3, 1789, but national celebrations of Thanksgiving were hit and miss dependent upon the whims of presidents until the American Civil War. It wasn't until 1863 when President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed a National Day of Thanksgiving to be set for late November. There has been an annual observance every year since then. In 1941, Congress set the permanent date for Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November. President Roosevelt signed it into law, and Americans have been celebrating our collective thanks on that day every since.

Ours is a rich, folksy, unique holiday that is rooted in history and steeped in significance with a bit of quirkiness thrown in (such as the President of the United States and his annual pardoning of the White House turkey). An American Thanksgiving is a celebration of the welcome of strangers (even those who cost you), the forgiveness of enemies, the acknowlegment of mutual dependency, and honoring of the providence of the Almighty.

It is a holiday that addresses the soul of our nation and her people. As we gather around our table today with friends and family, I will pause to reflect on those who have made my journey possible, those with whom I share a mutual dependency, and the Creator whose sustaining presence is an every day reality in my life.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Rising

Good Friday

Hosanna

Donkey

"Say to the Daughter of Zion, 'See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey'" (Zech. 9:9; Matt 21:5).

When we turned on the TV last evening, we stumbled across a show called "Kitchen Nightmares" starring British chef Gordon Ramsey. I had heard of Ramsey's reputation for brutal honesty and harsh treatment of the restauranteurs he came to "save" and really had no interest in ever watching one of his shows, but there was something about last night's episode that caught my attention.

Here's the premise for the show: restaurant owners who find their businesses in trouble call in Ramsey to rough them up and shock them into changes (with plenty of drama along the way). Admittedly, I was slightly amused at the emotional responses this particular owner was giving to Ramsey's rants and criticisms. I couldn't understand why she was so appalled and insulted. Wasn't she aware of his reputation? Didn't she know what she was getting herself into? Was she looking for affirmation and a pat on the back? Warm and fuzzy is not his modus operandi. Of course, this restaurant owner's initial excitement at this celebrity sighting turned to hatred the moment she didn't receive the affirmation she was looking for from Ramsey.

Enter Jesus. Riding on a donkey.

The prophets had foretold that the Messiah would enter Jerusalem in humility and gentleness on the back of a donkey...not the most majestic and powerful image one could conjur up for the arrival of a conquering king. I had always been taught that this "triumphal entry" was a sort of an inauguration for Jesus, a proclaimation that he was King. I am not, however, so sure that Jesus set this scene up for himself to be honored by the people or commissioned as King. He knew who he was.

By riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, he was saying something to the people.

Jesus knew that these bootlicking, fawning crowds would within the week be calling for his death. The crowds were lauding him for political reasons in anticipation of some sort of deliverance from Roman occupation. Jesus mocked their militant expectations by arriving on a donkey to start a week filled with holy defiance resulting in his rejection by men.

On more than one occasion in the Gospels, we see Jesus thinning out the crowds of people who were attracted to him for the wrong reasons. He didn't need a political movement to galvanize his cause. He didn't seek to attract a crowd to legitimize his mission. He didn't tolerate those drawn to him for their own selfish gain. He was focused on the cross, and he was asking us to follow him there.

Not a popular message.

Do we crown Jesus as King and laud him as Lord because he is the champion of our causes? Do we hammer the Jesus of the Gospels to make him fit into our political and social agendas? Do we, with confidence and bravado, march with his banner into our causes to carry out the will of God all the while ignoring the mind of Christ?

What would the Christ of the Gospels -- who rode to his death on a donkey and who asks us to die -- say to us today?

Patrick

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Green

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

With the arrival of St. Patrick's Day, our thoughts, of course, return to the nations and people we came to know and love while living on the island of Ireland. It's been two years since we returned to the states but much of our heart remains there. Ireland, I don't know if I will ever get over you!

When we were preparing to return to the states, I wrote on article on a previous blog called "A Tongue in Cheek Look at Coming Back to America". I am re-posting it here as a way of looking back and appreciating the cultures we came to love.

"While we haven't lived in primitive conditions, mastered the skill of the machete, or haggled over the price of a live chicket at the market, we have had to adjust to life in a culture that is vastly different than the one we grew up in. Not only have we adjusted, but we have adopted many of the things that we have come to appreciate about Irish life, culture and language. In short, we have acclaimated as best to 'yanks' can, and there are many things about Ireland that we love and want to take back with us.

So we ask for your patience when we return. We will probably not make a lot of sense to you and may seem even a bit strange. But we can't help it! While we may be Americans, we have morphed into this other 'thing' -- changed by a combination of Irish and European culture. If we appear peculiar, it's because we are.

We've been driving on the left side of the road, confined to an island the size of Maine or Indiana, living with two season (wet and less wet), and heating our house with turf. We've been eating black pudding (made with cow's blood), colcannon (mashed potatoes with green onions and cabbage), fry's (Irish breakfast, not French fries), and shepherd's pie. We drink minerals (soft drinks) and snack on crisps (chips) and biscuits (cookies). We order chips (fries) with our meals and buy crisps (chips) in single serving bags. We measure temperature in Celsius, liquids in liters, distance in meters, and speed in kilometers. We put a 'u' in any of your words that end in 'or', so favor becomes favour and color becomes colour. And, by the way, we call the letter 'z' zed and not zee.

If we ask to use your toilet (restroom), don't think we're being rude; that's what we call it -- along with the bog, the jacks, and the loo. We get our prescriptions at the chemist (pharmacist), and going there doesn't make us cross (angry) because drug prices are so much cheaper than in America. We don't ask for a ride (that's petitioning someone for sex) but ask for a lift instead. We use a lift (elevator) to go to the third floor, which is the fourth floor in America (ground level is the first floor in Ireland). We use products like Fairy, Cif, and Cilit Bang and shop at places like Tesco, Dunnes, and Lidl.

We use rubbers (erasers) to correct our mistakes and runners or trainers (tennis shoes or sneakers) for walking. We go for walks on footpaths (sidewalks) or on strands (beaches). People smoke fags (cigarettes) although not in public places. We love 'the crack' (spelled 'craic', which simply means fun).

If I call you mucker (friend), just 'wind yer neck in' (don't get upset)...it's a good thing. If I say words that sound familiar to your swear words, don't 'lose the head' (lose your temper) or 'eat my face' (yell at me)...the probably mean something entirely different in Ireland.

I might have a bit of a problem giving you a yes or no answer at first. You see, there is no direct Irish word for 'yes' or 'no'. The Irish rarely give straight yes or no answers, because it goes against their instincts. There are no direct translations of either word in Irish. My use of the word 'right' might seem a bit excessive to you until I 'catch myself on' (get the hang of it), but it's not much different than your excessive use of 'ya' or 'uh huh' in conversation. When you come to my house, I might say 'you're very welcome'. The word 'welcome', you see, is actually used as a greeting and not a response to 'thank you'. When you leave, I might say 'all the best' or 'safe home' or 'slan', which isn't much different than saying 'best wishes', 'take care', or 'good health'. I might thank you by saying 'cheers'.

I say all of this to let you know that this transition back to America will be an interesting one for us. If we come off sounding a bit peculiar, remember, 'it's not from a stone we licked it' (we didn't just pull this stuff out of the air'). It came to us naturally by living in our adopted home -- Ireland."

Brenda and I reluctantly returned to the United States in the winter of 2008. Our years in Ireland were good, and we are tremendously thankful for them. We miss our home, our friends, and our community of faith. While we always yearn to return, we are grateful for the life God has given us here in Denver, and we aim to build our future and establish our lives wherever we may find ourselves. While I long to be content wherever the Spirit of God blows, I wouldn't complain if He blew us back to Ireland someday!

New

Emmanuel

Present

"When mindfulness and attention embrace those we love, they will bloom like flowers."

A few years back, I was asked to teach a seminar in Ireland on youth ministry. In preparation for the event, I sent a quick email to many of my former youth asking them what was the single-most impacting part of my work with them. My former students were unanimous in their response: You gave us time.

I remain convinced that one of the most important gifts you can give someone is your presence. To "be there" is a rare thing these days, and just showing up can have tremendous and life-changing effects on a kid. It's quite humbling to know that nothing I ever taught, no program I ever created, no event I ever coordinated or overseas mission trip I ever organized made the impact that intentional time did. I've given a lot of sweat, energy, and time to program but time made all the difference.

Instead of spending so much time creating youth programming to compete with the world for their attention, I learned that the greatest asset I had was to simply be present in their lives.

Thinking back to my own childhood, it wasn't the advice of a father I missed; it was his presence. By and large, it's the absence of present people that seems to have the most significant detrimental impact on many of the teens I work with.

Authentic presence is a real gift to people. It's like giving the gift of you. Presence made one of the biggest differences in my life when growing up. There once was a man that God gave me as a gift. He was my pastor. Whenever I showed up, he dropped what he was doing and gave me countless, uninterrupted hours of his time. I don't remember much of what he ever said to me, but his time made all the difference. I thank God for Paul's presence. It's what I needed to get me through those years relatively intact!

We need to value being present with people. What we say when we're not screams volumes. We need to learn to turn off the cell phone and television and lay aside our schedules for those whose lives need our presence.

It is the perfect gift.

All Saints Day

Easter Traditions

Eggs.

One of my favorite Easter traditions that I have learned about along the way comes from the Czech Republic. According to our friends there, it is customary that boys are given sticks and switches with which to chase the girls and beat them. No joke. I'm not sure how long this fun lasts, but I'm almost certain that it is only fun for half the group. On Easter Monday, the men are allowed to spank women but the women are permitted to get revenge later on in the day by dousing a man with a bucket of water.

Good times.

In Denmark, Sweden, and Finland, children dress up as witches and go door to door collecting candy in exchange for decorated pussy willow branches. This tradition is a mix of pagan practice as well as the Christian practice of blessing houses with pussy willow branches. In Norway, the simply read or watch murder mysteries at Easter.

The Germans build massive bonfires called Easter Fires, and the Irish do something similar called the Paschal Fire which is rooted in both Celtic pagan traditions celebrating the return of the sun and Irish Christian history which re-enacts the fire St. Patrick built to challenge Irish paganism.

Before you get smug about how weird these other cultures are, we must remember that sitting on the lap of an over-stuffed Easter bunny and hunting eggs scattered all over the lawn is a fairly strange thing too. It's simply our prefered method of madness. When did children start sitting on the Easter bunny's lap and posing for pictures start anyhow? Is it the capitalistic venture of chubby, unemployed Santa's trying to make an extra buck? I'm not sure, but I think it's wierd.

A lot of the things we (and others) do around Easter really has nothing to do with the resurrection of Christ anyhow and is more tied into neo-pagan celebrations of the Spring Equinox. Sure, we come up with ways to relate yellow chicks and candy eggs and beating women into something deep and spiritual, but these traditions are usually a mix of Christian and pagan. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

Every since Constantine ripped the date of the Christian celebration of the Resurrection from the Jewish calendar, our celebrations of Easter have been more or less a mix of pagan and Christian. Do these activities make our celebrations of the resurrection of Jesus Christ less significant? Less pure? Some might say so. Our Quaker brothers and sisters don't celebrate Easter although the resurrection of Christ remains of paramount importance to them. I'm not convinced that the Christian faith is a religion of dates and places anyhow.

Perhaps the mixing of cultural tradition with Christian celebration helps make our expressions of faith more indigenous, more tangible. For example, if lillys and chicks and eggs help a child to understand new life and the promise of eternal life from God, I can see that as a good thing. I'm still trying to figure out how beating women ties in, but give me time...

We know from history that the Celtic pagans of Ireland loved the sun and particularly the sunrise. The Celtic Christians also worshipped at sunrise quite often. Was this a carry-over of paganism or did they see the return of the sun each morning as the promise of new life and the return of Christ? Many Christians today continue this tradition with our sunrise services and their mantras of "If Jesus Christ could raise from the dead, you can raise from your bed!" I think there is something profoundly spiritual about the sunrise as nature screams of the glory of God!

It's when we remove Christ and his resurrection from our celebrations that we should be concerned. The Apostle Paul said that the resurrection of Christ is essential to our faith. "If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is useless and so is your faith" (1 Corinthians 15:13,14). Every since his death, people have been trying to conceal his resurrection or prove that his body is still somewhere. They know that such a find would be the nail in the coffin of the Christian faith, and so many are desperate to find it.

I add my voice today to the chorus of the ages as we declare "He is risen. He is risen indeed!"

"Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"

Happy Easter!

How deep is the Father's love for us that He should submit His son to scorn and peril and slaughter to bring us life! How broad is the Father's mercy that He should choose to include us with Himself in this life and the next! How grateful I am for his deep love and broad mercy and gift of Jesus!

Happy Easter!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day to you and all our friends in Ireland!

Patrick

St. Patrick

St. Patrick's Day, more affectionately Paddy's Day, is nearly upon us. What has become a celebration of all things Irish (and beer) originated as a feast day for Ireland's beloved patron saint. While much of Patrick's life is shrouded in mystery and muddled with myth, there are some things about his life and ministry that I deeply admire. Whether he actually drove the snakes out of Ireland while fasting atop the reek now named for him or turned into a deer to avoid a murderous plot to kill him and his band of merry men does not matter to me.

Although I am delighted in the absence of snakes on the island and would be more than happy to credit their vacancy to Paddy, it is the legacy of his calling from God and commitment to the people who once enslaved him that most interests me. Ironically, Patrick was not Irish-born but was most likely the son of a Roman official and was born in Britain (Wales to be more specific). At sixteen years of age, he was kidnapped by raiders and sold into slavery in Ireland and spent years working as a slave near Slemish Mountain in County Antrim in Ireland's north. Those years in slavery drew him close to his God.

Following his cue from a dream, Patrick escaped and returned to his family in Britain. Back at home, he heard voices in his dreams beckoning him to return to Ireland saying "Come here and walk among us". And that is what he did though his family begged him not to go. Following a period of study under Germanus of France, Patrick returned to Ireland in 432 AD, landing on the shores of County Down.

His ministry among the Irish was wide and varied. He established communities of faith across much of the land and took on the powerful druidic leadership that ruled the people. Before long, Patrick arrived at the Hill of Tara in modern day County Meath. There, on an opposing hill, he lit a paschal fire atop the Hill of Slane on the eve of Easter. According to pagan practice, at this time of the year, all fires were to be put out before a new one was lit at Tara. When the druids saw a light coming from Slane, they warned the high king of Ireland that he must extinguish it or it would burn forever.

According to legend, as Patrick interceded in prayer for the Irish people, an angel visited the saint and told him that the Irish people would come to Christ and retain their faith until the Judgment Day. The Irish people remain in their faith to this day.

This idea that Patrick would be so moved by compassion as to return to the land that once enslaved him impresses me deeply. He left his homeland and went again to Ireland at great risk to himself to bring the light of Christ to those living in darkness. He came not as an outsider to lord over the land and create power for his own benefit but instead became Irish as he lived among the people he loved. I admire that.

I admire those among us who answer the call of God to move beyond self -- and any form of selfishness -- to love and serve those they formerly considered their enemies. These men and women of faith, these modern mystics, travel a unique path in life in order to follow the voice of God. This Voice, ultimately, leads them to live intentionally among people and in places that others may scoff at. A man like Patrick, in my opinion, has lived a life worth noting.

"I came to Ireland to preach the good news...I have had many hard times, even to the point of being enslaved again, but I traded in my free birth for the good of others."

Patrick

I Heart You

Ooey, gooey.

Do you remember those Valentine's Day parties we always had in elementary school? We'd spend hours making our envelope or box from red and pink construction paper which would be placed on the front of our desk in eager anticipation of the delivery of little Valentines from our classmates. I always held onto hope that someone's parents would drop a little extra cash and buy those conversation hearts instead.

I don't remember many of those Valentine's Day parties, but fifth grade seems to stand out to me the most. Fifth grade is when -- at least in my day -- we lost our innocence and Valentine's Day became political! I wasn't very happy about giving Valentines to the students I didn't like, and I wondered ahead of time whether or not I was going to receive one from everyone in the class. My sense of juvenile justice made me cynical of the whole thing, and my suspicions were confirmed when I got stiffed by Suzie (her name is being concealed to protect her identity!). To my delight, however, I recall there being an abundance of boxes of conversation hearts that year.

Looking back on it, I probably began to lose my innocence around the fifth grade and started to open my eyes to how the world works. It was in fifth grade that I began to question people's motives and to be cynical of the disingenuous giving of those little Valentine cards. Perhaps it was the first time I began to see "love" as competition and personal gain. Where did that fourth grade excitement of dropping a little card into everyone's boxes go just one year later?

To be honest with you, I am not much of a fan of Valentine's Day. I find the whole thing rather contrived...put on...sort of a capitalistic conspiracy to force people to buy over-priced gooey things. I see my female students and friends agonizingly looking for validation as if this day determines their net worth, and I see my male students and friends folding under the pressure to buy whatever they can to "prove their love". Rather than genuine love, it seems like insecurity too often wins the day.

I don't want to poo poo on your goo goo if Valentine's Day is something extra special for you and your loved one. Love -- genuine love -- should be celebrated. I, for one, love my wife deeply, and I am so thankful to have her in my life. I bought her a box of chocolates and a card in which I wrote a few sentences. I didn't buy her flowers (and hardly ever do), because loving my wife takes into account that she is allergic to them.

Because I love her, she doesn't need derive her source of validation or proof of my love from this one day as commanded by the calendar. I love her in the promise of our marriage -- for better or worse, for richer or poorer. I love her everyday. She is my greatest gift!

We don't know much about the origins of St. Valentine's Day, but we do know that it is a feast day to celebrate the martyrdom (yes, martyrdom) of a saint (or saints) who did not renounce their faith and were put to death at the hands of Emperor Claudius in the year 280. I am not sure just how St. Valentine became the patron saint of lovers, but to give up your life for another is the greatest demonstration of love (John 15:13). His was a love that was loyal, genuine, and self-less. That's the kind of love worth celebrating.

I'll be spending the day with some people that I truly love: my wife, my brother, my friends. I will be saying farewell to a new friend who is moving to San Diego and go out for some ribs with my extended family tonight. Nothing says "I love you" like ribs (remember, it was a rib that was taken from Adam's side to create Eve!). I am reminded of my love for all those around us, and I am happy to celebrate love -- genuine love -- wherever I see it.

Merry Christmas!

May you and yours find hope and peace with God through his love, grace, and mercy found in Jesus!

Merry Christmas!

Adding our love to His,

Mark & Brenda Ray

Peace

"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

Luke 2:14

Peace. We bring this word out every year at this time and place it upon our greeting cards, but I find the idea of "peace on earth" to be a bit allusive for most of the year. Other than at Christmas time, perhaps we associate the word with pacifists and protestors. They own the word for most of the year, and we get to borrow it during the month of December!

It wasn't too many years ago that I remember having a discussion at a small group on the subject of "Peace and the Christian". The conversation was anything but peaceful! I am usually amazed at how discussing peace among believers can become so contentious. It is an infuriating subject for some. I once heard a man say "We are not called to peace but to justice!" I kind of thought they were one in the same, but for some reason, this man was more interested in doling out "justice" than he was "peace".

Of course, his idea of justice was to give to people what they deserved -- or at least what he thought they deserved! I -- for one -- am glad that God did not dole out what we deserved when he entered time as a babe in Bethlehem! When the incarnation of the Father came to earth, he brought peace -- and that peace is his idea of justice! Why does the idea of peace disturb us so much? Perhaps it is because there is something in the nature of man that is conflicted with God, conflicted with others, and conflicted with self.

Admittedly, I am not living at peace with myself lately. There are a lot of things whirling around in my head in regards to my state of being unsettled and the loss I feel in having left "home". Of course, I was amused the other day when I turned to Romans 12:18 and read this: "If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." The words "if it is possible" and "as far as it depends on you" struck me as particularly interesting. Since I didn't like the NIV translation of this verse, I did the usual search of a bunch of other translations to see which one made me feel better (yes, I am being cheeky here). The New Century Version put it this way: "Do your best to live at peace with everyone." That sounds nice.

The NIV translation stuck in my head, though, prodding me to take a deeper look. Could it be that peace isn't always possible? Paul's choice of words hint at the notion that peace with everyone may simply not be possible. Most of us have probably felt the sting of broken relationships through the years and still carry with us a lingering sense of disappointment or even regret. Even in the pages of the scriptures, we find stories of those godly men and women who went their separate ways because peace, for them in that moment, was allusive. I've realized that since peace must be dependent upon all parties involved, when someone chooses not to live in peace, there is very little we can do about it. We must simply "wipe the dust from our feet" and move on with love and forgiveness in our hearts.

While I cannot be responsible for the choices of others, I am responsible for my own decisions and actions. I believe there is something in Christ that calls us to work for peace, following his example of humility and selflessness to bring reconciliation. While I cannot resolve world conflicts from Cherry Street, I can strive to live at peace with my neighbor and love those in my proximity, serving them as the Prince of Peace did. There is enough conflict, alienation, and strife found in every square mile of the globe. Christ calls us to a different way of living.

The good news is that "as much as it depends on me" doesn't really apply to the peace we have with God. Fortunately for me, the peace I have with God is his gift -- one I gladly receive and am reminded of as we celebrate the birth of Jesus. The nativity reminds me that his birth equals our new birth. Just as the shepherds who first received the news of the birth of Christ were terrified by the appearance of the angel, I would be terrified with the notion that my peace with God was dependent on my ability to acheive it. Thank God it isn't.

He is our peace!

"For he himself is our peace..." (Ephesians 2:14).