Upcoming Retreat

Times are tough. Winter is approaching and with it another unimaginable future for this country. If you need a glimmer of hope as much as I do, I hope you will join me on retreat in January in the Shenandoah Mountains. Let’s envision a way forward together…

See Upcoming Events for more

Resolving

How to parent post-pandemic when it’s the only way you’ve known…

When my son was born the same week of the COVID-19 Pandemic shutdown, I thought like many, it would all be over in a few weeks. Now, almost three years later, I finally feel as though the constant state of uncertainty I’ve been occupying has started to lift.

As everyone else “returns to normal” some days, I am surprised to wake up and remember that I am now a mom, as if my baby-soon-to-be-little-boy somehow appeared out of thin air.

For Pandemic Parents there is no “back to normal” because our lives have fundamentally changed.

Friends of mine who had babies after me have started to grow their families even more, yet I still feel as though the fog has barely lifted.

In fairness to myself, having a baby was not the only major life event I experienced in the last three years. Like many moms in the US, I tackled somewhat of an identity crisis when it came to my work/life balance and can be counted among the nearly 2 million women who left the workforce (and among the estimated 1 million or more who have returned) since the pandemic started. Additionally, both my husband and I have parents dealing with health problems and struggle to find enough time to spend with them.

With a new job, changing daycares, and a growing list of new activities to schedule every week for my kiddo, in order to keep up with what “back-to-normal” is supposed to look like, I forget sometimes that there was no “normal” family life for us before the pandemic. There was only blissfully kid-free married life with all the travel, good food, and money we could enjoy!

Before March 2020, we didn’t go to soccer practice, or swim lessons, or story hour at the library because we didn’t have kids!

To be clear, I love being a mom, and I love my son more than anything! At the same time, while everyone else seems to be enjoying their old life again, those of us with well-sheltered toddlers who have known little more than home in their short lives, have to create our own NEW normal.

Sadly, what little maternity leave this country offers was spent in online support groups, virtual baby-and-me yoga classes, and near constant FaceTime calls with family and friends just to have someone to talk to while not leaving the house for weeks (except for the same walk around the neighborhood day-after-day).

In my personal opinion, there should be a new diagnosis for the postpartum condition experienced by pandemic parents. What I have is PPP - Postpartum Pandemic Parent - the kind of anxiety experienced by becoming a parent under the traumatic conditions of a global crisis.

While Postpartum Depression or Anxiety (PPD/PPA) are difficult, yet treatable responses to the trauma of childbirth, PPP is like waking up in a new dystopian reality, in which all access to the so-called “village” that it takes to raise a child, and was supposed to gather around us and share the wisdom of parenthood, is suddenly trapped in some kind of sci-fi metaverse, unable to reach us except through a 2D screen.

I recall one particularly challenging day when my mom came to visit from her home, about an hour away, but since we agreed she should not come inside, we sat on the front porch, masked and distanced, while I struggled to wrangle a squirmy two-month-old all while dishes and laundry piled up inside and the only thing I desperately wanted, but couldn’t have, was for her to hold the baby while I showered. And even though I didn’t know any different, all I could think was: It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Our First Newborn Appointment

In many ways, we were so lucky to give birth when we did. At the same time, all “nonessential” medical care shut down immediately. With a difficult birth experience, followed by breastfeeding struggles and unexpected medical procedures, my postpartum mental healthcare became almost non-existent.

As 2023 rolls around, and my husband and I reflect on the year that has passed and discuss our resolutions for the future, I find myself at a crossroads. Given the simultaneous grief I carry by virtue of becoming a parent during the pandemic, along with the immense gratitude I feel for having a healthy, happy, thriving child, I wonder if it might be possible to revisit some of those lost moments and create something meaningful out of what could have been?

I also suspect there are other Post-Pandemic Parent’s (PPPs - yeah, I changed it) wondering the same thing.

So, to all you fellow PPPs out there, here is my resolution:

1. To reflect on and document the experiences of PPPs as we emerge from our Post-Pandemic fog.

2. To explore opportunities for connection and “village” making in the midst of processing the grief or other emotions that comes with being a PPP.

3. To create a space for those who are looking to find peace and balance for themselves while raising healthy, happy, and curious humans.

Postpartum Walk in the Woods

May 2020

If you are interested in joining me on this journey, I hope you will reach out or follow me here and on social media channels to get through the struggles together.

My hope is that I can bring humor, an attitude of gratitude, and a sense of meaning and purpose to this new reality we find ourselves exploring.

Looking forward to the future…

In peace,

Maeba

My New (Old) Body

Question: When does the permission for commenting on a pregnant person’s body expire?

Answer: it never should have started in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good pregnant belly, and the beauty it seems to bring to the whole world. When I was very pregnant, it seemed every person I passed looked at me with hope and empathy, as if I was carrying the future and somehow they were grateful.

But being postpartum is a VERY different story. Beyond all the emphasis on getting a body “back” (I’m sorry, where did it go? because I believe I am still in it, and by the way, it birthed a human - you’re welcome!) There is a sort of permission we allow in our culture to not only admire a swollen belly, but also to admire its absence in the short (or even not so short) aftermath of the baby’s exit from said body.

Being back at work in person has had its challenges, but one I didn’t expect was that people would be commenting on my body. 

A colleague, whom I’m sure meant well, saw me outside of a Zoom box for the first time in 18 months and exclaimed, “Oh my gosh! You did NOT just have a baby!” It took me a minute to realize what she was talking about until I noticed her staring at my stomach. Apparently, she was impressed by the size of it.

Keep in mind, I had a baby 18 months ago. My son was born at the very beginning of the pandemic. So the term “just“ is a bit off. In her mind, I was frozen in my nine-months pregnant state about to take maternity leave. 

In fact, my last day of work before everything shut down, my colleagues threw me a lovely baby shower on a Friday. I went into pre-labor on Monday and never returned. Until now. 

Here’s my confession…

I am guilty of this too. Before I got pregnant, I was all about the baby bumps! I swooned over a growing belly in the check-out line and commented on the beautiful mother-to-be’s glow, despite the fact that they were perfect strangers. 

But the first time a stranger touched my pregnant belly without asking, and might I add, without warning! You better believe I was singing a different tune. 

It’s not that I don’t appreciate the ritual of women attempting to support and encourage one another in their postpardum state. And, certainly, I will take a “look you great!” over the alternative. But I never realized how sensitive I was about my postpartum body until it occurred to me that people at work could suddenly see it.

Maybe it would have been better received if I was, in fact, a mere 12 weeks out and had just returned from maternity leave (still leaking) and was missing my baby desperately. Maybe this comment would have sounded reassuring and kind.

For those of us with pandemic babies who were lucky enough to work from home the past year and a half, we missed this step of motherhood.

The paced return to work after baby, the pumping in the car or bathroom, the fighting traffic to make it to pick-up on time, the endless versions of clothes and bras with their intricate clips and cuts and the promise of maximizing boob access and pumping convenience - even while looking professional.

Instead, we simply learned how to strategically place our cameras such that our breastfeeding appendages didn’t show up on screen while simultaneously avoiding “costume malfunctions”. We wore yoga pants and sports bras with moderately professional nursing tops, and kept our babies home from daycare much longer than was realistically feasible while working a full-time job - but we did it anyway, because we could.

So, in many ways, I feel endlessly lucky.

But also, here is what I know…

There are many things about modern motherhood that I regret not having because my child decided to make his entrance into the world in March of 2020, but the uninvited tracking of my post-baby body by work acquaintances is not one of them. Like a lot of things that are changing in the workplace culture post-pandemic, it is time to let this one go.

~ Maeba

Hope from the Ashes

Welcome to the First Sunday of Advent. The start of the church calendar, and a time when we begin the season of waiting for the birth of Christ. 

This week, like perhaps many of you, after several weeks of planning – looking at COVID numbers – and evaluating my own level of exposure, myself and my family finally had to decide whether to be together for Thanksgiving, or not. 

In the end, we did a combination of things including Zooming with my brother’s family, moving the meal itself to Friday so that my sister could join us after being tested, and keeping things as small as possible without travel and limited trips to the grocery store. Maybe it was the right way to do things, or maybe not, but after weeks of plans and numbers and exposure changing even in the last few days, like every family, we did the best we could. 

They say each generation is marked by a significant moment in history. My grandparents can tell you exactly where they were the moment they heard that WWII was over. My parents recall being sent home from school the days Kennedy and King were shot. For me, it was the moment the plane struck the Twin Towers on 9/11. And for those born in the 20 years since, it will the experience of the COVID-19 Pandemic that defines their childhood. 

My son was born the first week of March, 2020. Where I live, in Maryland, we went into total lockdown that same week. Last year, in an attempt at a cute pregnancy announcement, my husband and I sent around a picture of our ultrasound along with the caption, “Dear honeymoon, your time is up! – coming March 2020” – little did we know how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

In some ways, the time since March, could be categorized as one long extended season of Advent – since the pandemic hit the US, those of us who have been working remotely have done little but wait. Wait for the curve to flatten, wait for schools to reopen, wait for a vaccine to become available – wait for life to return to some semblance of “normal.”

And while previously, we may have thought of waiting as “doing nothing,” we know now that this could not be further from the truth. No one who has lived through this year will ever again think of “waiting” as easy. Staying home, wearing masks, keeping distant, and quarantining for a safe period of time, have become the newest – and perhaps most unexpected – act of love this holiday season. Waiting is now a form of activism.

The Gospel of Mark also instills a sense of urgency and action in the language of waiting for the Messiah. “Keep alert” we are told, “for you do not know when the time will come” (Mark 13:33). Rather than a scolding or warning, I believe that this message, which heralds the pending arrival of the Messiah, comes from a place of Hope. 

In the nearly 9 months since the start of the pandemic, we may be tempted to let down our guard, “fall asleep” to the diligence we are taking to protect ourselves and others, and given how long we have already waiting this year, this would be understandable. 

However, we know that the season of Christmas does not start the day after Thanksgiving – rather this is the season of Advent – the season of waiting itself. 

This is 2020’s moment!

This chapter in Mark, comes as a kind of apex. A point in between the stories of the teachings of Jesus, and the Passion narrative to follow. It is sometimes known as the “little apocalypse,” because of its messianic language. At the beginning of this chapter, we hear Jesus predict the destruction of the Temple, which occurred in 70 CE, around the time this Gospel was written.

The scriptures that we refer to as the Old Testament, recount the stories and laws of what is known as Second Temple Judaism, written between the time of the destruction of the first Temple in 586 BCE by the Babylonians and subsequent exile, and the destruction of the second Temple by the Romans. The Temple was so foundational to the practice of the Jewish tradition at the time, that in many ways, Judaism could not exist in its same form with out it and the religion itself transformed as a result. It is no accident then, that the Christian sect arose out of these ashes.

Although Jesus was thought to have died between 30 and 36 of the Common Era, his story did not begin to be written down until after the second Temple fell and was perhaps a direct consequence of the desire from the community to build something new. 

As the scriptures say, “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken… So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates.” (Mark 13:24-25, 29).

With each passing week of this pandemic, I have come to understand a new meaning in this apocalyptic message. Much like today, with the destruction of the second Temple, the Israelites are already in a constant state of fear and anxiety. The commandments they have been taught to follow, and the culture they have fought to maintain for generations, have suddenly changed.  The prophecy does not increase their anxiety, but rather acknowledges it.

And so, it is in this moment, the Evangelist seizes on the story of Jesus and begins to spread the message of the Gospel – the message of Hope. Jesus, the person, had come and gone, but in this moment, the people were waiting for a Savior, and the power of Jesus’ message was ready to be received. 

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In her book Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert describes the creative process as a time of waiting. She speaks of ideas as having agency, a kind of mind of their own – they float around in our collective consciousness until they find a place to land. 

A person, no matter how creative, or not, they may think themselves to be, simply by being open to creative ideas, can be struck by inspiration at any time. “Inspiration” being an idea trying to take root. And once struck, we can either choose to express that idea through creativity – be it song or dance, writing or poetry, ice skating or cooking – or we can let it go, allowing it to land with someone else. 

In this way, we do not have ownership of the idea itself – in other words, we didn’t “come up with it” – only its expression. If we do not act on inspiration as it comes to us, that idea is free to go meet someone else who will, and it is our responsibility to let it. However,  if we cultivate time for creativity and we allow ourselves to enter into a time of waiting – or even rest, this Sabbath time can be an opportunity to inform the creative Spirit that we are open to receive. 

In the mystical realms, we dance in the hope of inspiration. When we actively pause and pay attention to the Spirit moving in the world around us – we invite a level of creativity never before manifested in conscious form. 

So, on this First Sunday of Advent, I offer you this idea: if the destruction of the Temple, an act so Earth-shattering to the people who depended on it for their identity, could spark the creation of the Gospel stories, and the message of Jesus as we know it today, think of the possibilities ripe for the taking in the current present moment of pause, reflection, and anticipation. 

All we have to do, is wait.

Let us pray…

O God may we rest in the hope of possibilities, in the knowledge of your love, and in the inspiration of your Holy Spirit. Give us patience in this current season to wait for your coming in Glory.

Amen.

“Keep Awake”

Scripture – Matthew 25: 1-13

Sermon preached at Immanuel UCC on Election Sunday, November 8, 2020

“Keep Awake therefore,
you know neither the day nor the hour”

I don’t believe I have ever seen more prophetic words in a weekly scripture readings.

This past week we have spent countless hours waiting for the outcome of our presidential election. Indeed, I think part of my brain has been awake this entire week. In fact, “you know neither the day nor the hour” could be the tagline for all of 2020.

Don’t forget, this same year our country went through the process of impeaching our president; a devastating hurricane season that is still ongoing; through the most destructive fire season we have ever seen – not just in the US, but in Australia where 500 million animals were killed… 

We saw the first reckoning from the trials brought by the Me Too movement;
the destruction of the city of Beruit; civil unrest in Hong Kong, Poland, Thailand, and now Ethiopia.

We witnessed the senseless killings of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Walter Wallace Jr. and so many others. And we were awakened to a movement around racial justice not seen in this country in over 50 years. 

And of course, the COVID-19 pandemic, which is on track to kill a quarter of a million Americans by Thanksgiving, just a few weeks from now.

And I know this is less important but I didn’t even mention: Murder Hornets, Harry and Meghan leaving the royal family, and to add insult to injury, because I’m sure you forgot about it… (anyone know what I am about to say?) we had to postpone the 2020 Summer Olympics!

Friends, this week, I didn’t think I could “keep awake” much longer. But of course, now that the Presidential race has ended (or at least we hope it has), the real work of bringing our country back together begins. 

Of choosing love over hate, hope over fear, and healing over violence. 

I pray you understand me that I in no way mean these words to sound partisan, rather to recall that the tenants of Faith, Hope, and Love are the most Christian values we can lift up, even and especially when the very word “Christian” is being used as if it were a partisan term.

Our scripture today is the story of the ten bridesmaids who fall asleep while waiting for the groom to arrive. At first, this story appears a bit ungenerous. Not only do the so called, “wise” bridesmaids refuse to share their oil with the so called “foolish” bridesmaids who have none, but the wise bridesmaids send the foolish bridesmaids out to buy their own rather than share what they have. Then, when the groom arrives, they don’t even wait for their counterparts to return before heading into the wedding banquet and shutting the door. 

“Keep Awake” the parable concludes, as if our exhaustion is necessary to be worthy of God. 

Of course, this call to “keep awake” is sandwiched between other parables and stories in which we are instructed to do the same. In Matthew 24 (40-42) we are told: 

“40Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. 41Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. 42Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.”

And perhaps most well known, in Matthew 26 (36-46) in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asked his friends to stay awake with him – and they too fall asleep. 

But – after the week we have had, I find it important to remember, that God also commanded us to Rest – and so of course “Keep Awake” is meant in spiritual terms – 

Keep awake to the message of Jesus, 

keep awake to the sound of the Holy Spirit, 

keep awake to how God is working in our lives. 

Context for this passage is important, because we can easily read this story as another opportunity for division. To drive a wedge between wise and foolish, worthy and unworthy, saved and condemned. 

But recall that in Matthew the use of Light also has a spiritual meaning. A few chapters before Jesus proclaims, “16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven”(Matthew 5:16).

And so, we have a call to remain spiritually awake and aware, met with the instruction that those who are wise have additional oil to fuel their spiritual light. 

Taking this allegory further, we can understand that when we study the wisdom of Jesus and know the Love of God we become spiritually filled. In other words, by cultivating our knowledge of God and filling up our spiritual cup, we are left with an abundance of oil to burn the lamp of our Spirit and let our light shine. 

If we take this idea of spiritual light, or spiritual wisdom seriously, then it stands to reason that when the foolish bridesmaids demand some of it, the only option is to refuse, or more specifically to say, “go out and seek it yourself” 

– I reject the idea here that there is lack of abundance, there is always enough Spirit to go around. But rather – maybe spiritual wisdom is something we must seek for ourselves, wisdom in any form can’t be “given” out of abundance, it must be acquired.

So, the bridesmaids who are wise to the Love of God – while showing the foolish bridesmaids what is possible – also advise them that they must go out into the world and gather up this spiritual goodness in their own way and on their own time. There is no quick fix. 

I sometimes think about this passage when I read about Christians who claim to be suddenly awakened to Jesus as their “Lord and Savior”, and proclaim themselves “Saved.” As if that is all there is to it.

AND that may very well be all Jesus needs – honestly, who am I to judge? 

Yet, I struggle with this kind of click-bait Christianity. On the one hand, it seems to recognize something desirable and mysterious in the Light that shines from those who are followers of Jesus and yet on the other, there is an arrogance in one’s response to this mystery being: “I want that, therefore, it is mine.” 

Much like the bridesmaids going out at the last minute to acquire the oil they need, spiritual wisdom needs to be cultivated, not conquered. 

Again, I do not mean to imply that one cannot be suddenly converted to the way of Jesus and change their whole lives accordingly – indeed, this is the story of many disciples in the Bible. 

Yet, there is a kind of profanity (as in the opposite of sacred) to declaring oneself “wise” without really doing the in-depth spiritual work to know what you are getting yourself into. Even the disciples follow Jesus around for a while before they try to preach themselves…

Being a follower of Jesus means not only celebrating when your candidate wins, but to challenge yourself to find compassion for the one you opposed. 

Being a follower of Jesus means not only breathing a sigh of relief that your job is secure during a global pandemic, but finding ways to support those who may not be so lucky. 

Being a follower of Jesus means taking a hard look at our complicity in the sins of our country as much as we celebrate our success as a great democracy. 

Being a follower of Jesus means we must do the work of going from stall to stall, problem to problem, teacher to teacher, and examine how God is still speaking to us – offering us oil to light our lamps for others. 

Friends, after this week my lamp is burning on very little oil – especially when I think about the hard work still to be done. And yet, when it comes to filling up our own reserves, this is one thing we must do for ourselves. But the good news is, we don’t have to go out there alone. For even the bridesmaids travel together. 

Keep awake, therefore – a new day is coming.

Amen.

A Letter Regarding Recent Events

Below is the letter I wrote this week on behalf of the Governing Body to the members of my retreat community, Shalom Mountain, where I serve on the Board. I hope that the pain of recent weeks can be a catalyst for real change and for justice. May it be so…
— Maeba Jonas

Dear Shalom Community,

In recent weeks, the horrifying murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbrey have brought our country to a reckoning. We, the Board of Directors at Shalom Mountain, reject the systematic racism and white supremacy that allowed these deaths to take place. We recognize that there are many more names, and many more people whose names we may never know, who live in fear every day simply because they were born into black or brown bodies. These experiences have been compounded by the fact that the current COVID-19 pandemic has disproportionately impacted people of color and has exposed the disparities in our culture at a new level. 

At Shalom, we have at our heart’s center the values laid out in the Principles and Skills of Loving. We espouse our truth that, “More than anything else, we want to love and be loved” and we hear the cry for love, for safety, and for justice from the BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and people of color) in our country. As anyone who has been on a Shalom Retreat can attest, the outward expression of anger, and all of our emotions, is not only valid but essential. Accessing out anger is how we access our power. For those who are angry: we see you, we stand with you, and we love you. 

At the same time, we acknowledge that Shalom Mountain has its own work to do in the areas of diversity, equity, and inclusion. These conversations amongst the Retreat Leadership and the Board of Directors are not new AND they are newly awakened by the vivid urgency of these recent killings. If “Love is good will in action,” we recognize the need to speak up and speak out against what is immoral. 

We hope that you will feel welcome to share your thoughts, angers, worries, and fears with us at governingbody@shalommountain.com. It is our hope that Shalom Mountain continues to grow in its mission of “Calling people to be more conscious, loving and fully alive,” even as we call ourselves to do the same.

In Love and Good Will,

Your Governing Body

Taking Stock: A Resurrection and a Birth

Easter Sermon

In the first week of March, at the crack of dawn, our son made his entrance into the world. He was 8 lbs, 3 oz, and 20 1/4 inches long. He was born at home, as planned, after exactly 24 hours of labor. Our birth team was amazing and included our midwife Deanna, our doula Jessica, our midwife’s assistant Tina, and midwifery student Marty. Grandparents Susan and Wayne Jonas, were also present with Grandpa offering pain management in the form of acupuncture and homeopathic remedies throughout the day and night.

Of course, Kevin was my true rock, he never left my side for 24 hours – except right at the beginning, per my request, in order to run out for flowers for our altar (and also ended up bringing back 6 cases of vitamin water and a family size pack of orange Tic Tacs, for reasons he still cannot explain). The flowers were beautiful and sat on our birthing altar along with pictures from our ultrasound, sage and incense to cleanse the space, essential oils such as lavender and clary sage, and three beautiful singing bowls tuned to resonate with the sacral, heart, and crown chakras, which were played throughout the laboring process. Our house was a sanctuary of calm and peace, complete with a birthing tub in our living room – in which I mostly labored – and a birthing stool in our bedroom, where we eventually gave birth, just as the sun rose through the window behind us.

Labor was long and hard. As much as we had hoped for and read about “hypnobirthing” and “breathing our baby into the world” – baby was decidedly face up the entire time, seemingly unwilling, or unable, to turn into the proper position. And so, I had the honor of being one of the few women in the world who undergo “back labor,” an experience that went entirely unexplained in the 25+ books I read to prepare for the birthing process. (Let’s just say, I now believe this is why epidurals were invented.) But of course, we were having a home birth – no medications, no interventions – and so I labored on.

Some of my loved ones and friends have since asked me, “Why would you want to give birth at home?” Beyond wanting to limit our baby’s exposure to unnecessary medications, and wishing for as natural a process as possible, the truth is neither Kevin nor I are particularly anti-medicine and we both agreed that if at any point I wanted to transfer to a hospital, we could do so immediately (we even toured two different hospitals in preparation for such a transfer, should one become necessary either for my comfort, or God-forbid, in an emergency).

However, the real answer as to “why a home birth?” is much more simple: I wanted to know that I could do it (and I found out I can)! More precisely, I wanted to feel the full experience of what my body can do. Leading up to the birth, I joked with Kevin that I wanted our birth to be a return to the way women gave birth for thousands of years, before modern interventions, because if the apocalypse comes I want to be prepared to do it myself. I had no idea how real this joke would become just a short time later as more and more women are now scrambling to plan home births in light of the current pandemic.

Just as my pregnancy was not easy and full of some of the strangest side effects imaginable including: terrible morning sickness, narcoleptic-level exhaustion, a granuloma growth on my eyelid from the hormones, pregnancy-induced vestibular migraines causing vertigo, and oh, did I mention, turning the toilet seat blue! (An actual pregnancy symptom – seriously, look it up!) Through all of it, I was grateful that I got to experience pregnancy to the fullest. Even during the insomnia, mood swings, and aches and pains, I was grateful for my body and its inexplicable ability to grow a human – something, while ordinary, I now think of as the most miraculous part of the human experience.

And so, there we were, at home laboring and pushing, willing this new being into the world. Until suddenly, there he was! Just when I thought the labor would never end, and that this would be my new reality: pushing through waves of contractions until either I died, or the world came to an end… just then, out he came in one fast motion, his eyes fully open, looking directly at me. Our midwife caught him, brought him up to my chest, and with Kevin’s arms wrapped around us both, we leaned back and in an instant our family of two became three.

His name, Bodhi is the Sanskrit word meaning “Awakened One” – it is the same root as the title given to the Buddha, and it is the name of the tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment. Our Bodhi called to us from the cosmos, wanting to be born. And like a true Taylor he arrived right on time (meaning two days early!) so we know he is Kevin’s son – everyone else assumed he would be on Jonas time (meaning one week late). And thank God he came when he did, because Saturday, March 7, 2020 turns out to be somewhat of a turning point in history.

By Monday, March 9th many of the schools and businesses in Baltimore had instructed non-essential employees to work from home. By Wednesday, the World Heath Organization officially declares the Coronavirus a pandemic and my work had cancelled all classes and events, sending students home for there rest of the semester. By Friday a state of emergency was declared in the US and a week later, all non-essential business in Maryland had been shut down by executive order, and soon after that all gatherings larger than of 250, then 50, then 10 were banned. At this point, our governor has issued a stay-at-home order and we are in an unprecedented time of “social distancing.” Everything has been cancel or moved online, and even our doctor’s appointments have been limited.

What a way to enter the world. It feels as if, at least from our perspective, Bodhi came into the world and immediately demanded that everything stop, that we take a month or two to pause, and that we take stock of what we have (both materially, and emotionally) and of what is most precious to us. We are being called into the present moment unlike any other time in history – except perhaps during the time of the Buddha, for legend has it that at the time following his enlightenment, those who met him instantly attained the same just by being in his presence. Those who came across the Buddha were so drawn to his teachings and his way of being in the world that they could not help but leave everything behind and join his movement. Much like Jesus, his presence and calm was so intoxicating that folks were compelled to change their whole lives.

And of course, this is what it feels like to us to meet Bodhi. He commands our attention, forces us to be in the present moment, and draws us in with a love that is unlike any we have felt before. It is a life-altering experience I am sure shared by most parents, but it feels particularly powerful at this time because the whole world seems to be stopping as well. We are all taking stock of what matters, and for us, what matters is our new family.

This week is known as Holy Week in the Christian tradition, a time when we reflect on the events leading up to Jesus’ death and resurrection on Easter Sunday. This week also starts the beginning of Passover in the Jewish tradition. Despite being the most sacred time in the religious calendar, all over the world churches and synagogues have shut their doors to the public in order to try and contain the virus and prevent further spread of the pandemic. This plague upon the world is so pervasive it could only be described as Biblical.

And while many will mourn the loss of being able to gather as a community during these Holy days, I am struck by how much more connected the world actually seems to be. Never before have I voluntarily tuned in to a worship service from my living room, or spoken to my entire extended family over video at one time, or even had the forethought to join a group of friends in meditating at the same time, just because we could.

It strikes me as profound that all of these opportunities for connection have always open to us, and perhaps controversially, I don’t believe it is being forced to stay at home that has freed up our time to connect, for truthfully, the time was always there if we had made room for it. Rather, I believe it was being forced to reflect on what’s important, on who we wish to be with and check-in on, and in how we want to respond in a time of fear and uncertainty, that brought us all online and ultimately closer together.

At a time when I was prepared to be mostly alone on maternity leave, “in confinement” and likely fielding only a few text here-and-there from friends saying, “let me know if you need anything,” instead I have been more connected than I ever thought I would be with video calls and close connections reaching out and wanting to meet our new addition. We have all been forced to stop and listen to what matters, and sometimes what matters is as simple as one more soul choosing to join this complicated world.

Just as the Crucifixion is made meaningful in the Resurrection, I trust that we too are in the midst of the unknown – awaiting the meaning of this crisis that has yet to be revealed. The followers of Jesus had three days to mourn, reflect, and take stock of what really mattered to them. And like them, “it does not yet appear what we shall be,” but I have faith that whatever comes next will be entirely, unpredictably, and inevitably transformational. Or, as we say in our family, there is only Before Bodhi and After Bodhi. Welcome to our world.

Alleluia! Alleluia! and Amen.

Tribute to Jerry J. Jud

The Inspiration and Founder of Shalom Mountain Retreat Center, The Rev. Dr. Gerald J. Jud, left his earthly body at the age of 99 years (+ 9 months and 11 days)… on March 9, 2019. We mourn his passing but also rejoice in a life well-lived and in the gifts of the Spirit that he left this Earthly realm.

Below is my reflection on what my relationship with Jerry meant to me…

I met Jerry Jud exactly three times. The first was at a large event on Shalom Mountain several years ago. He was greeting dozens of people and did not remember me. This was not surprising because I was a different person then. It was around the time I left Shalom for a few years… a dark period of my life when I was struggling with what to do as a career, entering a loveless marriage, and on my then husband’s insistence, abandoning a place that I called “home” and the many friends and loved ones whom I had come to think of as family. In short, the first time I met Jerry, I was lost.

After leaving that marriage, I soon found my way back to Shalom Mountain and into the Leadership Training and Advanced Training. Within a few years, I was leading retreats of my own. But still, I resisted traveling to Timshel, the home of Jerry and Georgeanne Jud, to meet him. I was reluctant, I think, to sit at the foot of the “master” when I had no idea what I would say to him – or, perhaps more worrisome – what he might say to me.

Nevertheless, the occasion arrived when I simply could not ignore the call anymore, and with a dear friend, I made the pilgrimage to meet the person who had inspired not only my personal growth work but my entire career. As a UCC Minister and a Yale Divinity School graduate, it is not hard to see the parallels between Jerry and me; in fact, they are far from accidental. While a student at Yale, I found the UCC Church partly because I had heard that Jerry had served such a church close-by, so I figured it was worth checking out (and it was!)

I have always resisted bowing to the role of a “spiritual teacher” or “guru” – even when I was a practicing Buddhist and this was an integral part of the religious tradition. I found myself reluctant to select a personal Lama, or to request the guidance of a personal teacher – it was not my thing. Yet I assumed, I think fairly, that this would be my experience with Jerry. If I agreed to meet him, he would be my teacher, and I would sit at his feet and have to think of things to ask…

And so, while I knew that meeting Jerry again would be powerful, I could never have predicted that I would feel so much his equal. In fact, Jerry was also resistant to the idea of being anyone’s one source of spiritual teaching and fulfillment. While, of course, he had followers to the end of his life, and preached with a clarity and mastery of the Holy that is unlike any other teacher I have had the privilege to know, he was at his heart – human – and this was a comfort to me.

As with any Spiritual Leader, Jerry was also more than a man. He carried a legacy that will live on in both the inspiration he channeled through his teachings and in each and every person whom those teachings touched. The Principles and Skills of Loving are for me simply the most practical and the most sacred scripture there has ever been. I strive to live my life by these teachings and have come to feel as close to them as any friend, teacher, or companion I have ever known.

My final visit with Jerry was to celebrate the 25th anniversary of he and his dear wife (and my friend) Georgeanne. It was a celebration I will never forget. And in just a few days, I will be getting married again, this time to a person who has taught me just how deep and holy The Principles and Skills of Loving can be lived – across both space and time. In some ways, I have Jerry to thank for teaching me that love could run this deep.

Although I am deeply saddened that I will never again hear Jerry’s deep “woof” on the other end of the phone (a common sign-off instead of “goodbye”), I look forward to continuing the legacy of Jerry Jud in both my personal life and my professional vocation.

I will be forever grateful to have called him a friend…

Follow Your Star

Epiphany Sunday – January 6, 2019
Preached at: Immanuel UCC – Catonsville, Maryland

Readings: Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12

Sermon:

Happy New Year! And Merry Christmas!

Today is Epiphany, which marks the last day in the liturgical season of Christmas. As we heard, Epiphany is the celebration of the Magi, when the Three Wise Men, or Three Kings, came to visit and offer gifts to the baby Jesus. In many cultures, Epiphany is the day when Christmas presents are exchanged, not Dec. 25th, the day of Jesus’ birth, but today, 12 days later, to represent when Jesus receives the presents of gold, frankincense, and myrrh from the travelers from afar.

Did you know that the three gifts presented to Jesus by the Wise Men have a deeper meaning?

First, Gold – the precious metal fit for a king, marking his kingly reign as the Messiah on Earth.

Second, Frankincense – a sacred incense used by priest in ceremonies, which marks him as a spiritual leader.

And finally, and perhaps most notably as it is not in the Prophecy from Isaiah, but is in the Gospel reading, Myrrh – What is myrrh? You many not know, in fact I did not until a friend told me recently, that Myrrh is actually resin or sap that in ancient times was used to anoint the dead.

So, from the time of his birth, Jesus is given all of the things he needs for the whole of his life’s journey, including his eventual death. Even as Jesus is being welcomed into the world as the, King of Kings, Prince of Peace, the Messiah, Immanuel – God with us – he is also celebrated as being fully human: the mark of the Living Christ.

What is known today as a sweet story of the Three Wise Men bringing their gifts as part of the nativity scene, the scripture is actually much darker. The Three Kings begin their sojourn into Judea by going to King Herod and asking where the new Messiah is, as they have come to pay him homage. Of course, rather than being honored by their presence, the king is threatened, and resolves to kill this so called “king of the Jews” – in the passages following our reading for today, King Herod orders the slaughter of every child two years or under born in and around Bethlehem, just to be sure.

The only way Jesus escapes this horrific mass-killing, is because Joseph has a dream and flees with his family to Egypt as a refugee until after Herod’s death. Only then, according to Matthew, does the family resettle in Nazareth. What struck me about the story of Epiphany on this year’s reading, is how much tragedy and violence underly the Celebration of the Birth of the Messiah. Jesus survives, but countless other innocent children, are needlessly killed in his stead. The cost of God coming to Earth, almost immediately, is the death of innocents.

Scripture seems to be reminding us that in the midst of greatness, there is also suffering. A celebration of salvation becomes a threat to those in power, and ultimately results in destruction. This seems a contradiction at first since most of the narratives we recall during the Christmas season are celebratory. And yet, with the promise of something new, there is always the threat that something else must die – in this case, Herod’s rule, but he does not go down without a fight.

This reminds me, albeit on a much less dramatic scale, of the season of Christmas itself. We wait in joyful anticipation and in preparation during the month of Advent for Jesus’ arrival. And at home too, we are making travel plans, buying and wrapping presents, and stuffing our faces with our favorite holiday treats!

But then comes New Year’s and the narrative changes. We begin to reflect on all that has happened in the year that has passed. Suddenly there is the pressure to have Resolutions – to remake oneself by setting intentions, starting “afresh”, and for some reason that is lost on me since it is still winter (and we are all still wearing the same clothes) – joining a gym and loosing the “holiday weight.”  

So, in the same way, all the joy and celebration we have just felt with the birth of Christ, inevitably ebbs and flows and causes us to take pause. And when all the paper has been unwrapped, the decorations put away, and the tree taken down, we can feel a sense of emptiness, loneliness, or even exhaustion at having to start a whole other year over again.

New Year’s resolutions then, can provide a sense of purpose or inspiration, This is the year! I will meet my goals, volunteer more, connect to others, be happy! I will let go of the past and look toward the future with hope – A clean slate!

So I ask you: What gifts do you need for the year ahead?

Is it Gold? The mark of wealth, prosperity, and power? Financial security, or a sense of belonging to the earthly world? Or perhaps Frankincense? A deeper spiritual life, or the ability to lead from a place of connection to the Source?

Or maybe it is Myrrh? The sacred resin used to anoint what has died. Rather than seeing Myrrh as morbid, I invite you to be curious about the presence of Myrrh at the Epiphany. After all, the myrrh does not diminish the gifts of gold, or frankincense, but rather completes them. This gift offers us the ability to mark as Holy even the most tragic or difficult challenges in life as part of the sacred mystery. The fullness of our time on earth.

For many, the holidays are NOT the most wonderful time of year, but instead the annual, and sometimes painful, reminder of love ones they have lost, or of the abundance to which they have no access, their struggle to feed their families, or even to carry their children to safety in a new land. Life is full of challenges and these too, the Wise Men acknowledge and offer gifts so that Jesus is prepared for all that a human life brings.

This is the gift of Grace. That blessing, when we least expect it, or sometimes refuse to acknowledge we even need it. That powerful reminder that God is with us, through all of it. As we begin a new year, I invite you reflect on the past not with regret for mistakes that were made or plans unfinished, but with curiosity – and a spirit of Grace. Ask yourself: What from this past year am I needing to let go? What has died, and is waiting to be anointed with Myrrh, marked as Holy, and thanked for the lessons it has taught me?

So take a moment, right now, and reflect on something from this past year that no longer serves you… When your heart lands upon that which you are ready to leave behind, you may offer it a simple “thank you” and release from your life.When you have done this for all the things from this past year, you may find yourself asking this question: Where do I go from here?

I would suggest that the Wise Men have set a good example here as well: Follow the Star! Follow the Star… which is to say, Follow Your Star. Follow that shining light in you that guides you, even when other’s cannot see it.

Ultimately, the gifts of Epiphany are not about making life easy – as in, if I only had enough wealth, or fame, or spiritual connection, I would be able to accomplish my goals. No, the gifts of Epiphany are meant to help you on the journey of life. To ease the way when you come across one of life’s inevitable challenges.

An “epiphany,” by definition is a realization so strong, it cannot be ignored. Perhaps, the Christmas season ends with Epiphany, a full 12 days after Jesus’ birth, not just to celebrate the birth of the Messiah, but also to celebrate the journey that the Wise Men complete by having the faith to follow a star directly to their salvation. A journey we are all on.

The Mystery of Faith is to believe that God became flesh and dwelt among us, fully human and fully divine. And so, as long as you can believe that the impossible can be possible, the Grace of God is there to help you on your life’s journey. This New Year, begin by asking yourself these three questions: What is my star? What do I need for the journey? And who are the trusted few, I wish to bring with me along the way?

Happy Epiphany!

Amen.

New Years

Sermon Preached at United Church of Christ of Annapolis on Sunday, the 31st of December, 2017

Gospel Reading: Luke 2:22-40

A few of months ago, my dear friend and her partner, who are Jewish, had their first child, a boy. And upon hearing the news that they had a son my first thought was how happy I was for them and my second thought was: I hope I get invited to the Bris!

For those who don’t know, a Bris, or a Brit Milah, is a Jewish rite of passage, which combines the ritual circumcision of a baby boy with a naming ceremony. Not everyone’s idea of a fun way to spend an afternoon, but for me who values and loves all the World’s Religions; give me religion, ritual, and food and I am in heaven. So imagine my delight when not only was I invited to a Bris, but actually included in the ceremony when I was asked to light one of the candles during the opening prayer. It was a true honor.

I also learned a lot! For example, within some Jewish traditions it is customary for the couple to wait until the Bris to reveal the name they have chosen for their new baby. The child is presented to God first, on his eighth day, and shares in the ancient covenant of circumcision, as commanded by God to Abraham. Only then, is he named, and his name and the reason for his naming, revealed to all who are gathered. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful! Scripture was read, tears were shed, and this brand new baby was designated to God and named, surrounded by family and loved ones… and I promise you, the baby cried the least of anyone.

I was reminded of this experience in our reading for today, because today is the eighth day after Jesus’ birth. And, as commanded by God, Jesus’ parents, who are of course Jewish, bring him to the Temple to fulfill this same obligation. Ancient Judaism included different laws and sacrifices that are only symbolically done today, but we can actually learn a lot from the details in Luke’s Gospel. We read that Jesus is presented to God, and as the scripture tells us, “designated as holy for the Lord.” We are also told that Mary and Joseph offer “a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons” as a sacrifice.

In fact, according to the scriptures in Leviticus (12:6-8), a couple is actually meant to offer a lamb, and only if they cannot afford one, “a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.” Which tells us that Mary and Joseph were poor and bring to the Temple only what they can afford. From these humble beginnings we get a glimpse of Jesus not as the great promised Emmanuel from before his birth – but the actual one-week old baby, whose devout Jewish parents, take him through the rituals of every other new born baby of the time.

Now, we know from our Lessons and Carols services and from the many, many, readings of Advent leading up to Christmas that there has been a lot of excitement and celebration in preparation for Jesus. But as any parent will tell you, no matter how much you prepare, it is really what happens after the baby is born, and not before, that matters most. Right? – Jesus, has been known, named, and loved, by his parents. But while he is welcomed into the world, and into his new family, it is not until this moment at the Temple that he is greeted by the community.

In ancient times there were often people who dedicated their lives to the Temple and were known as prophets. In our scripture today, are two such people: a man called Simeon, and a widow, who is named Anna. When each of them see the baby Jesus, they immediately recognize him as the Savior who will change the world. And they begin to praise God, saying they can die happy, because they have seen the Messiah with their own eyes.

And curiously, in hearing these strangers proclaim these incredible prophecies, the scripture tells us that, “the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him.” Mary and Joseph were amazed! So I have just one for you question: Why? Why were they amazed? I mean – this is Jesus, right?

And supposedly, Mary and Joseph already know what a big deal Jesus is, given all the readings we have heard up until this point including: the prophecies from the Hebrew Scriptures such as in the reading from Isaiah, the miraculous birth of John the Baptist, shepherds following a star, and in another version of the story, Wise Men bringing gifts; and on two separate occasions (albeit in different gospels) an Angel literally comes down from heaven and announces to Mary and Joseph that their son will be the Messiah! So, you would think that Mary and Joseph are already pretty convinced that their son is special. The signs are pretty clear. And they say “yes” and they agree to have the child and name him Jesus, and all signs point to a miraculous birth and that what they were told about him is true – so why are they amazed?

Is it possible that they still have doubts? Or maybe they are just so sleep-deprived with a one-week old infant that they think they must have imagined the shepherds and the angels. That is certainly possible. Or maybe, even when we know that God is calling us into new action or towards a different path in our lives – even if the Angel Gabriel himself comes down from heaven and tells us what our future holds – maybe, we still need others to reflect back to us what they see, in order for us to believe it.

Have you ever had a dream that actually came true? Or had a gut feeling be confirmed? Some call it intuition or a premonition; some even try to predict the future through the stars or even using the Bible itself. But even beyond fortune-telling, most of us can think of at least one time in our lives where, for no logical reason, we just knew what we are meant to do. Maybe it’s a career choice, or the moment we know we are in love, but often there is a feeling – a soul’s knowing – that seems to be outside of time and space, and if we trust it, it is as if our guardian angels are guiding us in the right direction. As if God Herself, were pointing us on the way.

For me, a number of years ago, I started to see the signs that God was calling me to ordination. I resisted; told myself that I must be interpreting things wrong. And even though I was already in Divinity School, I waited until my very last semester to join a church. I had this gut feeling – but I didn’t trust it.

Finally, I set up a meeting with the pastor at the UCC church I had been attending, and I bravely asked her if she thought it might be a good idea for me to, maybe, become a member of her congregation. She took one look at me and said, “sure, but first let’s talk about getting you into the ordination process.” Looking back, I realized that for me, seeing the signs from God was not really enough. It was not until other people in my life like teachers and mentors, started recognizing these same traits in me that I began to listen. And it was only when people began to ask me directly if I felt called to ordination, that I was able to start admitting to seeing the signs in myself. It was as if others were holding up a mirror to the way in which I was already living and reflecting back to me what they saw.

In other words, sometimes we know in our gut, or in our soul, the path we are meant to follow, but it is not until it is reflected back to us by the people in our lives, that we can see it for ourselves. This is the gift of community. An opportunity to be witnessed for not only who we are, but for who we might become.

Mary and Joseph had been told of the importance of the birth of Jesus and I trust that they did believed the angels when they said, “yes” to the challenge of raising him. And yet, this faith does not stop them from being amazed when members of the community reflect back to them what they already know to be true – they began to trust that one day their tiny newborn really will change the world.

Christmas is a time of celebration – a promise of the potential for the future. If we believe that God is all-powerful, then we must ask ourselves: why a baby? God could simply come down to earth as a fully-grown human person, but instead God begins God’s life here on earth as an innocent and vulnerable child. A child requiring care and nurturing from parents with few resources, doing the best they can for their baby. This is one of the miracles of Christmas.

But one week later, the real work begins. At the New Year, we often reflect on the year that has past, and we resolve to make changes in the year to come. Too often these resolutions are self-critical or born out of shame: We may resolve to diet, or to exercise more, or to watch less TV. But what if, instead of restricting ourselves even more, we used New Year’s as an opportunity to open ourselves up to where God is calling us in our lives. Is there a still small voice guiding us towards who we are meant to be? And what we are meant to do? Is there something you are meant to offer the world, if only you can trust yourself enough to say, “yes”?

Listen! Listen, not only to that voice inside of you, but also listen to the everyday people, the angles in our midst, who are telling you what they see. Have there been people reflecting back to you what may be your deepest potential? That divine spark that only you can know? And going further, have you taken the time to really look at the people around you and reflect back to them the spark that you see? How often do we tell the one’s we love what it is we love about them, what they mean to us in our lives, and what they mean to the world?

When my friends presented their newborn infant to the community and named him, they did so by saying “yes” to God. The name they chose (which they have given me permission to share) is: Oren Patrick – which is a combination of a new Hebrew name for the future, and an honoring of relatives who have past – naming all of the things they see, and dream, and hope for him. And with that act, they revealed to us and to God the infinite potential that comes with new life.

Even Mary and Joseph, who know their baby to be the actual Christ, are amazed at the potential that others see in him. God commands that we do not keep our gifts to ourselves, but bring them into the community for all to see and to bare witness. And in naming what we see in others, we offer that same potential for infinite possibilities.

It sounds simple, but consider that this may be the most important thing we do this year: to be Community – or as the Greek’s called it: ekklesia, which translates to: The Church.

Perhaps these reflections from the community will spark much more than kindness and affection in those we love, but could actually inspire the changes that make the world a better place. Because, the truth is, it is not just your responsibility to live your own truth, but God offers us the opportunity to see Christ in others and to inspire them to live as Christ did, offering their unique gifts to the world.

And so, I invite you this New Year’s Eve not to simply look to the same old promises and resolutions that have left you uninspired in the past, but instead to look for the image of Christ all around you – the potential of a newborn baby, which lives as a new creation within each of us – and don’t just see it, but take the chance to hold up a mirror and tell the people around you what you see in them.

Tell them how Christ appears to you in their eyes, and maybe, just maybe, you will help to inspire a gift from God with the potential to change the world.

You may even be amazed!

Amen.