Day 1, "Before I Formed You, I Knew You," Jeremiah 1:4-10 (NRSV)

The following seven meditations appeared in the third week of August, 2019  by the Upper Room "Disciplines."

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Baby brother came home from hospital with his proud parents, to meet his sister.  The four year old asked her mom and dad if she could be with her brother alone.  Anxiously, they allowed her.  She went into the baby’s room, closed the door, and moved towards the crib. Her parents, their ears peeled to the door, listened as she whispered, “Quick, tell me who made you. Tell me where you came from. I’m beginning to forget!”

When the Lord God called young Jeremiah, God made sure that Jeremiah would not forget who he was and to Whom he belonged to.  “Before I formed you …  I knew you… I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (v. 5) Jeremiah wasn’t sure if he believed God or could fulfill His call.  … “Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy” (v. 6).

When the bishop laid his hands on my head and intoned the timeless words, “Take thou authority as an elder to preach the Word of God….”  Like Jeremiah, I wasn’t quite sure I could fulfill God’s call in my life either, “…. for I [was] only a boy” (v. 6).

The Latin word, “vocatus” means to be called or summoned by an authority.  It also means a calling or a vocation.  Whether we are ministers, laypersons, professionals, or in the trades., we are all called and given a mission. In the new Revelation, Christ Jesus calls us as he did the disciples.   The stakes are higher than with Jeremiah. Christ invites us to co-create with Him in the Reign of God, today and into eternity. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” (Matthew 28:19).

Prayer: God of prevenient grace, when you call, am I listening?

 

Day 2 "He Can Listen to God," Psalm 7:1-3 (NRSV

Sergio was born with a severe hearing impairment and a defective heart.  When he was a six years old, his parents brought him to Florida from Mexico.  They entered the United States as undocumented immigrants. After many years, his family continues to live in fear of deportation.  Sergio is temporarily protected by the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA).  His status may be revoked at any time.  Nevertheless, for now, DACA is his refuge. 

The psalmist trusts God’s protection. “In you, O Lord, I take refuge; … In your righteousness deliver me and rescue me;…. Be to me a rock of refuge, a strong fortress, to save me” (v. 3).

Refuge, "chasad," has many interpretations in the Hebrew scriptures.  Refuge is a shelter, a dwelling (tent), a sanctuary.  In a refuge, one gains strength as a rock or a fortress.  

Sergio discovered these growing up, playing, working in the fields, and going to school.  I mentored him until he graduated from high school. He earned a scholarship from “Take Stock in Children,” a private foundation that offers grants to students whose families’ incomes are under the poverty line. He is studying to be an auto mechanic committed to support his parents, so they won’t have to work picking fruit and vegetables.  Last year, churches and a physician helped Sergio receive his cochlear implants.  He is an overcomer trusting in God’s refuge that is within him.

Sergio lives with God’s refuge, because he can listen to God in spite of his hearing aids.

Prayer: “O Lord, my strength, and my fortress, and my refuge in the day of affliction,” (Jer. 16:19) my you extend your tent around me, all my days that I may live boldly proclaiming your salvation. Amen.

Day 3, "Taking Up the Cross is Risky Business," Psalm 71:4-6 (NRSV)

Jesus’s enemies often threatened to arrest and kill him. He admonishes his disciples“… whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matt 10:38-39).

 German pastor, theologian, conspirator, and martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer challenged the churches to reject the Reich. Most didn’t.  A pacifist, he struggled with his role to remove Hitler.  Bonhoeffer was found out, imprisoned, and executed a couple of weeks prior to the end of the war.  Bonhoeffer must have prayed from his favorite song book, “Rescue me, O my God, from the hand of the wicked, from the grasp of the unjust and cruel. For you, O Lord, you are my hope, my trust.” (vs. 4-5).

 I met Maria Cristina Gomez during a visit to El Salvador in the mid 1980’s. I served as a mission interpreter for Alfalit Latinoamericano, a Christian literacy and grass-roots community development ministry. Maria was a teacher at a Baptist school in her war torn country.  She directed Alfalit’s women’s program and was a leader of a teacher’s union.  One day, heavily armed men burst into her classroom and dragged her away, while her students watched in horror.  The next day, her body was found on a trash heap.  As disciples of Christ are we able to witness for Him, even if it means making the ultimate sacrifice?  When we bear witness for Christ to others, we too are martyrs, because witnessing is martyrdom, no matter the cost. Whenever Maria’s name and other martyrs are remembered, their communities shout in solidarity, "Maria! Presente!" Maria! Present! because Maria is indeed present with us and the Resurrected Christ. 

Prayer: Jesus, what am I willing to die for, in order to live with you?  May I trust you as life-giver, “For you, O Lord, you are my hope, my trust.” (v. 5). Amen.

 

Day 4, “But you have come to Mount Zion… the heavenly Jerusalem." Hebrew 12:18-24

The first century Messianic Jews were being persecuted. The writer of Hebrews encourages them to persevere in their faith in Jesus, the long awaited Messiah. The writer reminds them what it was to live under the Law of the Old Covenant. God was perceived as unapproachable, vengeful, to be feared, and woe the consequences to those if they disobeyed the Law.  “For they could not endure the order that was given, ‘If even an animal touches the mountain, it shall be stoned to death.’  Indeed, so terrifying was the sight that Moses said, ‘I tremble with fear’” (vs. 20-21). 

The writer reminds them that the New Covenant was fulfilled from the Old with the Revelation of Jesus Messiah, showing them who God really is.  God loves, forgives, and offers salvation for all humanity through His extravagant grace. Fear and judgment are no longer the motivators for obeying God.  The Law of Love has been around since creation, in the midst of humanity. Therefore, the Messianic Jews are reassured, even at great cost, that they are loved by God and are called to love others even as they love themselves. 

The writer declares, “But you have come to Mount Zion… the heavenly Jerusalem... and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (vs. 22, 24). No longer are endless sacrifices needed to appease an angry God.  Messiah has forgiven all sin, once and for all, through his blood on the Cross.

 Which covenant do you choose to live in—Sinai’s or Zion’s?  In Sinai, fraught with guilt, terror and judgment or with joy, “… marching upward to Zion; …To fairer worlds on high” (Isaac Watts, UMH 733). 

Prayer: Creator God, you love us so much that you allow us to choose Sinai or Zion.  Sooner or later, we discover that our spiritual journey is marching towards You in Zion. Amen. 

 

  

Day 5, "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, "Hebrews 12:25-29 (NRSV)

 The writer of Hebrews reminds his Jewish contemporaries about their ancestors.  “Indeed our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible” (11:2-3). ….“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside… sin,… and let us run … the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith,…” (12:1-2).

Jesus preaches on Isaiah 63, at his home synagogue in Nazareth. He is surrounded by men who remember him as a boy. He reminds them of their legacy .  Then He proclaims, “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:18-22). Through His death and resurrection, Jesus is revealed as Messiah, who said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law…; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” (Matt. 5:17).  The writer continues, “See that you do not refuse the one who is speaking; for if they did not escape when they refused the one who warned them on earth, how much less will we escape if we reject the one who warns from heaven!” (v. 25).

The writer warns, "At that time his voice shook the earth;... "Yet once in a little while and I will shake the heavens and the earth” (v. 26). Those things that are shaken from the Old shall be removed. Those that are not shaken are the New Creation established by Messiah the Christ. "Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer to God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe:" (v. 28).

Prayer: Oh God may we know the difference between those things that are shaken from those that are not. May our daily lives be acts of acceptable worship with you. Amen.

 

 

Day 6, "A Woman Set Free"Luke 13:10-13 (NRSV)

“… there appeared a woman with a spirit, that had crippled her for eighteen years. When he saw her, he called her over and said, ‘Woman, you are set free from your ailment.’” “… immediately she stood up straight and began praising God” (vs. 12-13).  Today, she probably is the most famous unnamed woman, in the Bible along with the woman at the well, because of her great faith. 

 “Cat,” shuffled into the dorm for the intellectually challenged, where I worked the night shift.  She greeted me, mumbling about a poem she had written that she wanted to read to me.  She was a middle-aged, born with cerebral palsy with a brilliant mind. Her parents institutionalized and abandoned her as a child, assuming that she belonged there with the rest of the patients.  Years later, the staff realized her intellect restored her independence, though she was a ward of the state. She would never leave the institution because she had no family. 

 At first all I heard was gibberish, but as I listened carefully, her sounds were actually words-- beautiful, poetic,  words.  She had a voice. I realized that I was in the presence of a beautiful soul trapped in a twisted body.  And yet with determination and her deep faith in Jesus Christ, she was “set free (v. 12), as her soul “stood up straight" (v. 13). I too was transformed by having known this wonderful woman, 47 years ago, who uttered words of inspiration to all who would listen. 

 What self-imposed barriers do you carry which prevent you from standing up straight.  When Jesus calls you over, have you given Him permission to lift you up?  Remember that you are “set free” to “praise God” (v. 13) from the one who offers you His overwhelming grace. 

 Blessing: “Now to him who is able to keep you from falling, and to make you stand without blemish in the presence of his glory with rejoicing,…” (Jude 1:24). Amen.

Day 7, "A Daughter of Abraham," Luke 13:14-17 (NRSV)

The woman suffered from a twisted body for eighteen years.  She was victimized and abused as a sinner by the religious leaders.  She was exiled, rejected, despised, and even denied as being fully human.

 “… the leader of the synagogue [was], indignant, because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath…” (v. 14) “But the Lord answered him and said, ‘You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey… and lead it… to water’” (v. 15)? 

 Jesus lifted her up, to the highest status in Jewish society. He declared her as a “… daughter of Abraham, whom Satan bound… [to] … be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day” (v. 16) This woman is infinitely more valued in the eyes God than any narrow interpretation of the Law.  Jesus shamed the religious leaders for their lack of compassion.  He called them hypocrites. He reminded them that keeping Sabbath has a broader interpretation than refraining from physical labor. Jesus taught that Sabbath is the practice of Shalom- love in action. It is God’s divine and outrageous interruption by His Reign suddenly being present in our midst.  

Walter Brueggemann, writes in his book, Sabbath as Resistance, "Saying no to the culture of now,” that Sabbath is being neighbor with all without distinction. Sabbath means to join with God and co-create with Him in His Reign. We are reminded of God’s great reversal and the option with the “least of these,” (Matt. 25:40). who become the “first” to receive God’s grace-- “and the entire crowd, was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing (vs. 17).  

 How may I live Sabbath beyond just obeying it?

 Prayer: Lord of Sabbath, may I rest in thee for the rest of my days, when Sabbath is fulfilled in our presence. Amen.

 

 

 

My Testimony

 This is my testimony why I am so passionate about the Covenant between the churches in Cuba and the United States. I had the unique privilege to witness the birth and execution of the Covenant, and why it is thriving today. 

My parents were missionaries when we arrived in Camagüey in 1951. I was two years old and my brother David was six. My father became the pastor of  “la Iglesia metodista San Pablo,” now known as “la iglesia de la Unción Divina,” “the church of the Divine Unction.” My mother was a high school teacher at the Pinson Methodist school next door to the church. David and I attended Pinson for the next 10 years.

We lived in Camagüey until we had to leave in June of 1960 because of the revolution. These were happy years. I had close friends, having fun with all kinds of adventures, and participating at the church and school. 

Leaving Camagüey was very traumatic. I was so attached to Cuba that was more Cuban than American. When we landed in Miami, I was in foreign country.

The break in 1968 between the conferences turned out to be an interruption, because the Covenant was really established in 1883, when the Methodist mission was planted in the rich soil  of Cuba by Methodist lay pastors Enrique Someillán and Aurelio Silvera from Tampa and Key West.

In 1995 Bishop Hasbrouck Hughes went to Cuba and was surrounded by Methodists who said to  him “We feel abandoned by our Methodist sisters and brothers in Florida.” Convicted, Bishop Hughes convened a meeting in Miami between exiled Cubans and Methodists from the island. He shared his vision for re-establishing a bond across the Florida Straits. Friends met with friends who had been separated for years. They embraced, wept with shouts of joy!  

Finally (al fín!) in 1996, my brother and I were returning home after 36 years. We were back our home, our church, and school. Nothing had changed; everything did change. 

In 1997, Bishop Cornelius Henderson convened a task force to write the document defining the Cuba-Florida Covenant. The Cuban Methodists did the same. 

At the June Florida annual conference session the Covenant was unanimously acclaimed.  A few weeks later, Bishop Henderson led a delegation to the session of the Cuban annual conference session. David and I were a part of that delegation. The bond was re-established as the Covenants were signed. As the vote came in, at the Vedado church, the delegates erupted with joy, weeping, arms uplifted with shouts of “Alleluias y Gloria a Dios.” 

Only by the power of the Holy Spirit  was this possible.

Today, almost 30 years later, Cuba is facing its greatest crisis. The challenges are daunting. Yet, the Covenant between the US. and Cuban Methodists is stronger than ever. 

Yes! the Covenant is reaching beyond Florida and welcomes other denominations to participate as well. 

The Covenant is the bridge that makes our work possible. It is safe to say that the Covenant has more lasting power than any others in the Christian world!

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined. You have multiplied exultation; you have increased its joy.” Isaiah 9:2-3

The Arrival of Celtic Christianity to the Isle of Iona, Part 1

In 563, an Irish monk named Columba sailed in a primitive coracle (like a circular canoe) with twelve companions from Ireland, setting foot on a one by three mile isle of Iona, Scotland. A monastery was established. Eventually, others were built across Scotland, each becoming a learning center. The monks recovered portions of the Bible saved from the raveges of the barbarians. The monks painstakenly made copies painting the colorful calligraphy on their pages

Its east side is located across the Iona Sound from the much larger Isle of Mull, which is ferry ride to the Scottish mainland. The western side faces the Atlantic Ocean. If you cast off from Iona and head west, the next landfall is 2,300 miles away on Newfoundland.

Columba's mission was to bring Christianity to Northern Scotland. His method of evangelization was to build a monastery near a Celtic community. The monks established relationships with the pre-Christians treating them with kindness and respect. They won them over by example, not by the sword and oppresion. They even mingled the some the  customs and ceremonies that were compatible with Christianity. 

Celtic Christians borrowed from the pre-Christians that nature is the divine essence, which is "panentheistic," where everything exists within God, but God is greater. Dualism is a false doctrine. Creation and Spirit are One. The separation between the physical and the spiritual is as close "the thin spaces." There is no heaven nor hell. There is one Creation- spiritual and physical. God isn't "out there." God surrounds us and is within us. 

This prayer is known as "Patrick's Breastplate." Christ within me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ on my right, Christ on my left, Christ when I lie down, Christ when I arise."

Creation is the "second Bible" along with the written one. In other words, the Celts live Genesis 1:27-31 which says that "God created humans in his image, in the image of God he created them.... God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good." That is their baseline for including all humanity and sentient beings as beloved of God. No exceptions. 

 

In the fifth century, St. Augustine coined the phrase, "original sin." He ignored Genesis 1:27. He taught that even children are born in sin. Sex was sinful. Sex for procreation was tolerable. Eve was blamed for bringing sin into the world, because she first ate of the fruit in garden. Her disobedience to God justified that women were considered second class, to be dominated by men. 

Augustine of Canterbury was sent by Pope Gregory the Great in 597 30 years after Columba arrived on Iona. His mission was to establish a Roman mission in Britannia, an outpost of the Roman Empire.  

Roman Christianity was hierarchical consisting of the pope, bishops, and priests, in that order.  The clergy were the authorities in Christian doctrine and theology. To be a Roman Christian meant that you obeyed the clergy. Only the priest could teach and interpret the Bible. The laity were forbidden from having a Bible. 

Obedience to the priest was mandatory under the threat of excommunication or hell. The only way back to the fold was to recant by confessing one's sins. Only the priest could forgive sins by granting absolution, forgiving sin, or otherwise.

Celtic spiritualy, pre-Christian and Christian emerged in Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and Northern England where the Roman Empire had little or no influence. Celtic Christianity did away with the heresies of the Roman church and continued the teachings "of the Way," from the first century house gatherings.

Iona became the center if Celtic Christianity and spread throughut northern Scotland. Iona also became a learning center for missionaries who came even as far as central Europe. Many brought suriving manuscripts that would have been destroyed during the chaos fromthe fall of the Rome empire and conquering barbarians.

Iona and the other monastaries copied recovered books and portions of the Bible. Many had beautiful caligrophy adorning their pages. 

The Vikings first attacked Iona in 795, and continued in 802, 806, and 825. Eventually the Iona community abandoned the island. For almost 400 years, there was no monastic activity.

What Christian presence did remain are two Celtic high crosses, St. John's and St. Martin's installed between the years 750 and 800. St. John's cross recently collapsed and its pieces are reconstructed in the Abbey musuem., along with St. Oran's and St. Matthew's cross. St. Martin's cross keeps vigil on the same spot at the abbey as it has for over 1200 years.

At around 1200, the Benedictines arrived on Iona revived monastic life by constructing an abbey and other structures made of stone. Most survive as ruins today. The Scottish protestant reformation in 1560-1561 caused the Benedictines to abandoned Iona. However pilgrims continued to arrive on Iona, through there was no established community on the island. A partial restoration of the abbey was completed in the late 18th century.

Then Presbyterian pastor and social activist George MacLeod led the movement for the full restoration of the abbey and the founding of the Iona Community. The abbey continues to be the destination of thousands of pilgrims to this day. 

The Iona Community is formed by persons who foster Celtic spirituality with weekly prayer services morning and evenings and eucharist on Sundays. They host youth groups and volunteers who serve in the abbey and are taught by members of the community. The Iona community has a number of communities around the world. Their mission is to pray act for peace and justice, through the teachings of Jesus' sermon on the mount and the parables.

 For learning more about Celtic spirituality and how Christianity was influenced by it, read "Listening from the Heartbeat of God," by John Phillip Newell.

To be continued in Part 2

The Journey to the Isle of Iona, Part 2

 

Last August, I went on a pilgrimage of seven days on the Isle of Iona. This was a rare privilage for me. When I attended the Five Day Academies for Spiritual Formation i n  Florida, I heard some of the attendees talk about Iona as the pinnacle of their spiritual lives. I said, "Some day I will visit Iona. 

My first visit was in October of 2024, but we were only 3 days on the island. Being with a group was a distraction. Since then I said, "I've got to return,  but this time, alone, and for a longer period." 

I made my decision to go in March of this year. I had my doubts. I'm 78 years old. Can I stand the rigors of travel and hiking all over the island? Can I figure out how to get there, especially the complication to get a visa to enter the UK and pulling together the reservations for four changes of transportation and having them coordinate at just the right time?

I made my plane reservations; got my new passport in three weeks; no problem, and my UK visa in a week. My confidence that I was really going to Iona rose.

But figuring out the reservations for ScotRail from Edinburgh to Oban on the Scottish mainland; then the first ferry crossing to Craignure on the Isle of Mull; then the bus ride across Mull to the Fionnphort ferry landing, and finally landing on Iona, was a challenge. Whew!

But getting to Iona was part of the challenge. 

I scheduled led my flights for two days in Edinburgh before Iona and two days after, a wise decision because my outbound flight from Philadelphia to Edinburgh was delayed for 24 hours. 

How all that happened became a synchronistic experience. Carl Jung, the founder of analytical psychology  coined the word, which means, "a meaningful coincidence between two or more events that appear to be connected in significance, even though no direct cause-and-effect relationship can be established." 

When I was waiting line to board the plane, I began chatting with a couple as we entered the plane. After finding my seat, I met a young woman sitting across the aisle. She was going to Scotland to meet her Australian boyfriend, who played the bag pipes. The captain announced that there was a minor mechanical problem that we would be on our way in half an hour. Four hours later we deplaned.

It was about 11:00 PM when we disembarked. The young woman took off ahead of me. Then I ran with the friendly couple.

 The staff  dumped us, saying we were to make our own hotel reservations and the airline would reimburse us for the hotel. 

After several calls we realized that all the hotels in the area were booked... except for Travel Lodge with two rooms. As we walked towards the exit, I saw the young woman sitting on a bench looking dejected. I motioned to her to join us. "We have two rooms," I said. We became a foursome. Together we would make it through.

We arrived at a Travel Lodge. It was a dump, but we had no choice. The Mrs. with the young woman in one room and the Mr. and me in the other. At least the sheets were clean.

The next morning at the terminal we were told that our flight was a special one carrying the stranded passengers.

There would be many more synchronistic experiences when I got to Iona. 

It was great to back in Edinburgh. Being out of my country for ten days was like taking an ideological vacation- away from the anger, hate and dictatorial diatribes from the top.

It was refreshing to be surrounded by an old culture- the buildings, the parks, the traditions, and the Scottish accent (much I didn't understand, no matter), and Tennent lager beer.

I stayed at "the Hostel" hostel, right across the Haymarket train station. That too was an adventure. Most of the guests were young adults from all over the world. The beds were three tier bunks. I got the lowest one. I kept hitting my head on the frame.

About 18 people shared a room, men and women. Everyone was cordial and kept their belongings on their beds with no concern of being robbed. There was a communal bathroom and showers with doors with locks. A sitting room brought people together. And communal kitchen. I was given a code to enter the hostel and the room. I felt very safe. 

The next day I ventured out on my self-tour of Edinburgh taking the train from Haymarket to the Waverley station (my street at home is Waverly). Haymaket got its name in the late 18th century because of the buying and selling hay for the animals, and the name stuck.

First I had to figure out how to buy the train tickets. People noticed that I was an American and helped me out getting my tickets. 

From the Waverley station I walked a few blocks to the Royal Mile. It is a mile long stone paved pedestrian street. All along the Royal Mile there are dozens of shops and pubs.  The mile rises towards the Edinburgh Castle, a massive stone structure that protected Edinburgh from invasions. Now it houses a series of military museums.

In October 2024, Trudy and I visited Iona with a group. During our last visit in 2024, our flight home was delayed for a day. Another serendipity, because if we had left earlier, we would have missed the highlight of my visit to Scotland. A friend called telling us about the Waverley bar. It served over 100 varieties of Scottish whiskey. At long table Scots men and women sang old Gaelic songs- woeful ballads of love won and lost. Musicians accompanied the singers, including a small bag pipe that could be played indoors.

The Two Pilgrimages to Iona, Part 3

You go on two pilgrimages to the Isle of Iona: one is spiritual and the other is physical. 

The spiritual journey begins when you walk off the plank of the ferry. You feel a presence that is hard to describe, but it is there.`I'm trying not to be Woo Woo about it, but you feel it. Many others who have been on the island experience the same thing.

What follows in my narrative of my journey, I can't begin to fully describe what I experienced, felt, and saw. One must go to Iona to have their experiences. However, I will try.

The focus of the spiritual journey is the abbey. But there is more. As you walk along the road, you pass about five ruins that used to be a nunnery. It its prime, the nunnery had wealthy residents that provided the resources for an active nunnery. 

You continue on the road, and the abbey comes into view; a cruciform structure wth a square bell tower. You arrive at an ancient cemetery which is alongside of St.Oran's chapel. 

Most of inscriptions on the tombstones are ilegible. The cemetary's residents include medieval Scottish, Norse, and Danish kings. It is said that two of its residents made famous from Shakespeare's MacBeth are the real Kings MacBeth and Duncan I. Shakespeare writes that his character, King Duncan was taken to Colmekill (Iona) to be buried.

St. Oran's chapel is the only structure on the island that has survived, built by the Benedictines at around 1200. Legend says that St Oran was a companion of Columba, who requested that he be buried alive, so that the walls of the chapel would not collapse. 

Finally, you arrive at the abbey. You enter through the main door, and the first thing you see is a four sided courtyard or cloister. This is where the monks would pray as they entered the sanctuary. There is no conference center, no gift shop (that is located along the road). You turn right, then turn left at the corner and you enter the sanctuary through two wooden,double doors. The first thing you see is a massive square batismal font.

You turn left and behold, you see the nave and the chancel with stone arches on eather side. The chancel is divided by a large arch. Then you see at the other end, the altar with a table made from a single block of Iona quarried green marble. When the abbey was restored in the 1930's the stone mason built upon the ruins. If you look carefully, you can see where the old and the new stone merge.

The most important place where I spent alot of time on my spiritual journey was on the choir seat, mid-point in the sanctuiary. The choir consists of a series of wooden chairs, connected in rows, facing each other across the aisle. This arrangment is common in medieval churches and cathedrals to this day. The choir is where the monks sit and chant during worship.

When I first attended the evening prayer in the abbey, members of the Iona community led the service, while the worhippers sat in the choir and in chairs located towards the narthex. Youth read the scriptures. Two women sang the theme song from the TV series, the "Outlander." 

Thats when I experienced my first epipahny. I was surrounded by the Celtic, Christian spirituality. The language of the liturgy and the prayers expressed the love of nature and humankind. The music had a Celtic ring. I was smitten.

For the rest of week, I kept coming back to the abbey. Early before the morning prayers, and before the evening prayers. Most often, I was the only person in the abbey. The abbey never closes. It is a place of silence, prayer, and meditation. It was suffused with Spirit. I inhaled and drank it in. 

Why Are the Poor, Poor?

“While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. 4 But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? 5 For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. 6 But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. 7 For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish, but you will not always have me. 8 She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. 9 Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” Mark 14:3-9

Simon the Leper, a wealthy man invited Jesus to his table. Simon is rich because he could afford to invite his rich friends to eat with him- and only those he knew who were of the same class as him. No woman were present. 

An unknown and an accompanied woman “crashes” the party where Jesus was, carrying an alabaster jar filled with a year’s worth of nard, an ointment.

It was apparent that she bought with all the money she had. She gave everything she had as a devotion to Jesus, as a preparation of Jesus' body for burial.

She was scolded for wasting the nard. Instead she should have sold it and donated the to money to the poor. 

Jesus praised the woman for sacrifice. “For you always have the poor with you, and you can be kind whenever you wish, but you will not always have me.”

Jesus confronts the hypocrisy of the angry men. If they really cared for the poor, they would have many opportunities to show kindness to them, but there will be fewer opportunities to show kindness to Jesus, as this woman has done. Mark places this event in chapter 14, when Jesus’ fate will soon be settled on the Cross, (Mark 15:21). Jesus knew what was about to happen to him. And apparently so did the woman. We don't know her name. "Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her” Mark 14:9.

Jesus teaches that poor people aren’t poor because they have sinned or because they deserve it, or that it is God’s will (John 9:1-3). The poor are often considered poor because they lack mental and physical capacities. Many prosperous people consider themselves "good” because God has blessed them with wealth; and because they have "pulled themselves up by their own boot straps." 

Much of my ministry has been among the poor in Latin America. I know by experience that the poor are struggling to have a roof over their heads, food, health, and an education. They are motivated to do so, but the cards are against them. The economic systems and the powerful “ keep them in their place.” However given the opportunity, they grasp it and move upward. They don’t want charity, they just want to be given the chance to get ahead.

Case in point: the Redlands Christian Migrant Association's Mulberry Community Academy in Mulberry, Florida, educates children of migrant agricultural workers who eventuality acquire the skills to lift up their families to a higher quality of life.

Playing Between the Notes

A letter to Miss Hailey, my English Teacher at Lakeland Senior High School

 Fall, 1995

 I hope that this letter finds you healthy and full of energy. Please do not assume that, just because I’m in college, I punctuate every sentences correctly, and that all my sentences have direction.  Give me a few more years of college to become an eloquent writer.

 UF is fabulous!  I’m learning so much in so little time.  This past summer I was a camp counselor at the Methodist camp in Leesburg and since then, I have done a lot of soul-searching.  College is a wonderful place to get to know yourself better.  It has been a time for me, to set up my own personal schedule.  I have found that I work constantly.  I wake up an hour and a half before my first class to practice.  Then I practice between classes.  I eat only two meals a day and I sleep seven hours a night.  I work on book homework late into the night and then relax for about an hour in front of the TV before I go to sleep.  My body has become extremely efficient because I love all that I am doing.  

 I’m taking English 1101 here at Gainesville.  I was blessed again with a wonderful teacher.  I love a lot of the things about his teaching, but one thing in particular is that he does not limit our expression of words.  For example, if we feel inclined to emphasize a point, we are told to use any word necessary to prove that point, whether it be a cuss word or whatever.  He is a fiction writer, and he has interesting, legitimate opinions on things.  We just finished reading Slaugtherhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut, and I loved it.  The aspect of time did not play a role in the book at all.  Everything was relatively told in little sections, so that by the end, the reader would see the whole picture in its entirety.  The structure of the novel was different, and it was interesting to find the repeated words throughout the novel.  At the beginning of the semester, we were asked to write a journal entry and mine was mainly about my soul searching this past summer.  This soul-searching was not particularly linked to religion, politics, or even self.  It was directly linked to my music-making.  At this summer camp, I was unable to practice much, but every night I would play hymn music in chapel for prayer time.  This prayer time for the congregation quickly turned into a devotion time for me.  I had memorized all the hymns that I was playing and put them all in C major so that it would be easy to go from one hymn to the other.  Having them memorized, appeared, oddly enough, like I was playing music inspired by God or something.  This really hit home with me because I felt like this is how all the music that I played should be like.  All the traditional Bach suites, concertos, sonatas, etc., I felt should feel the same way.  

 Let me insert part of my journal entry here because I think I explained it pretty well. I promise not to write much more.

 “…. Here, at camp, I found a sort of peace with my cello playing that I had never experienced before.  When I played in chapel, it was about my own personal prayer and bible devotion.  I felt the spiritual side of music and when I returned to my classical music practice time, I saw the music so much more differently.  I think I finally saw the music apart from the notes.  This is hard for me to explain, but I knew something was totally different.  When I discovered this other side, I quickly picked up my cello and began to play Bach’s 2nd cello suite, something that I had played over and over again, but this time it sounded a little different.  Yes, it sounded a little differently than all the other times that I had played it before, but then suddenly as I was playing it I felt something.  Not something from the outside but something from the inside.  I felt something inside of me that I had never felt before.  As I was playing these notes that I had studied many times, I felt an understanding of not just the notes one by one, but the musical line or lines as a whole.  As I was playing I began to make these lines come together and intertwine with each other to produce something as a one whole unit.  When I finished the prelude, I sat back and let the distant sounds echo in my mind.  As I was experiencing this feeling of completeness, I remembered how it felt to be playing the phrases and experiencing the notes not from diligent practice but from my own interpretation of the music.  I quickly started the Allemande, the next movement, and I experienced the feeling once again.  After playing the whole second suite, I realized that music was not the notes.  Music is the stuff in which is in between the notes.  I was just blown away by this sense of understanding that I immediately wanted to share my discovery with someone else. …”

November 30th, I fly with my mother to Indiana for my audition into the school of music at Indiana University.  I am practicing a lot for my audition because I really need to transfer to Indiana University.  I cannot see myself here at the University of Florida for four years.  

 I am glad that I feel that I can write you and I’ll be sure to come to school to see you some time. 

 Love, 

Corry A. Rankin

“Can I Have some Ice Cream?”

When I was six or seven, Pinson School in Camagüey, Cuba opened a one room school for the American, English speaking students in a house across the street from the campus.  The school hired Mrs. Martha Tucker as the teacher in a multi-grade classroom.  Each grade sat in clusters working on their lessons, while Mrs. Tucker moved about offering encouragement and correction.  At noon, we ate our lunches, while Mrs. Tucker read to us from the great books, such as Robert Lewis Stevenson’s “Treasure Island.”  Not too long after that, we could hear the jingle of the ice cream man coming down the street, on his three wheeled tri-cycle with an ice box on the front, with the Guarina brand ice cream on the side.  He had vanilla and chocolate on popsicle sticks, and my favorite, coco glassé, coconut ice cream in a real coconut shell.  I sat right in front of Mrs. Tucker, and I would look her in the eye as she read, and in best sheepish voice, I would whine, “Can I have some ice cream?” She would look up, having been interrupted in her reading, and would stare back at me with her gruff gaze. Than she would smile, as we all filed out of the classroom for an ice cream break.  To this day that is why I love ice cream.

 Years later, Martha Tucker and her husband, Ted, retired in West Palm Beach.  As a young pastor, I visited her several times.  As I was leaving, she always reminded me, “Now remember, Larry, I want you to do my funeral.” “I will, Martha, but you have to give a date, so that I can put it on my schedule.”  We always had a big laugh over that.  My dad, I had the distinct honor to co-celebrate Mrs. Tucker’s homecoming as she wished.

 Before and after the Spanish American War, (the war for Cuban Independence) in 1898, many Americans owned small farms in Cuba.  Small American colonies sprang up.  Two of them were located northwest of Camaguey: Sola and La Gloria.  The farmers needed an English teacher to teach their children, so they hired a young Martha to come from the United States and organize a school.  Not too long after that, she met and married, citrus farmer, Ted Tucker. They raised their children on the farm, until Martha was hired as the teacher for the American students at Pinson School. 

 

In those days, La Gloria and Sola, were large enough to support a Methodist church, which held English language services.  Now a part of the Camagüey district of the Methodist Church in Cuba, the church is still active to this day.  In the ‘50’s the La Gloria church held services in both languages.  Electricity had not arrived in the communities yet, so the night services were lip up with several Coleman lanterns held up by long hooks hanging from the rafters.  I still remember the hissing sound they made as my dad preached, as I lulled myself to sleep on my mother’s lap. 

I Set My Eyes on that Pretty, Tall Girl Across the Room

In the fall of my sophomore year at Emory, Bob Stroud, a Methodist missionary met with me and invited me to take a mission team from the US down to southern Argentina where he and his wife, Betty Lou were pioneering a new ministry in the Patagonia city of Neuquen.  

    That would be a life changing experience for me at several levels. I had experienced a lonely year on campus. I set my sights to meeting the team in June, 1967.  The year went by quickly as anticipation of the meeting built.  I hoped that perhaps these young people would become life long friends, my community.  Perhaps I would meet a special someone. 

    I flew to Miami from Atlanta and arrived at a Miami Beach hotel where the team was gathering for orientation with veteran missionaries, Lloyd and Edith Knox. They were from South Dakota, Texas, Georgia, Florida, and North Carolina.  I remember entering the hotel, inquiring as to where they were meeting. 

    I entered a room where the team was getting acquainted. I looked across it. Then I set my eyes on a pretty, tall, brown haired young woman with a gorgeous smile.  Her name was Trudy, and she was with the South Dakota group, from Watertown. I was smitten. I knew right then and there that I would marry her some day. It was June 8, 1967. 

It Was the Most Terrible Year; It Was the Most Hopeful Year

In the year 1968, my 20th year, was the worst year in US policy and politics (except now) that I can ever remember.  It started when the Viet Cong launched the Tet Offensive in January. Even with the numbers of US troops bloated at a half a million, the US nearly lost Vietnam.  In April, Dr. Martin Luther King is assassinated by a lone assassin with a rifle in Memphis, Tennessee.  King’s death sparks violent and destructive riots in a number of cities across the country, with the exception of Atlanta, King’s hometown.  In June, while running for President, Bobby Kennedy is shot while moving through a hotel in California.

I witnessed the public memorial for Dr. King.  I was a junior at Emory College.  Dr. King was the pastor at the Ebenezer Baptist Church on Auburn Street in the heart of the Atlanta black community.  His father, retired had been his predecessor.  His mother was the organist and choir leader.  Early on April 9, 1968, my friend and I put on dark suits and walked to Ebenezer Baptist Church on Auburn Street.  This was the private service, so we watched from a knoll across Auburn Street as dignitaries arrived.  Some we recognized.  Harry Belafonte, Hubert Humphrey, US Vice-President, Sammy Davis, Jr., among others. We could hear the organ rumble, and the singing of the congregation.  We knew that there would be a march of the congregation and those waiting outside the church to Morehouse College, Dr. King’s alma mater in the West End.  We walked ahead of the march.  

The streets were deserted.  Racist, Axe handled, backwards cyclist Georgia Governor Lester Maddox refused to allow the lowering of the flag at half staff because he declared that Dr. King was “an enemy of the state.”  He surrounded the state capital with Georgia troopers assuming that there would be riots.  Atlanta did not go up in flames because of the wisdom of the last white mayor of Atlanta, Ivan Allen.  He had the foresight to be available to the formidable black leadership by meeting with them weekly over lunch to discuss issues and concerns of the community.  Allen was respected.  So when news came down from Memphis that Dr. King had been assassinated, some of the young toughs were shouting “burn baby burn.”  There’s a famous picture of Allen in the heart of the black community climbing up on a car and telling anyone who would hear to go home, “l

Let us not dishonor Dr. King’s memory by destroying his hometown.”  Everyone went home.  All was quiet without a national guard presence, and not even the state troopers.  

We walked block after block towards the Westside, with nary a person to be seen. It was peaceful.  We arrived at the quadrangle of Moorehouse college.  A low, brick fence paralleled the length of one side of the quad.  The sky was clear and weather was cool, but not for long.  

Few people were on the quad at the time.  Each of us picked out a tree to climb for a better view. 

shortly after, security called us down.  We look for another tree.  I found one at the side of a path that meandered midway down the side of the quad.  Little did I realize how strategic that spot was and how it would change my life an hour later.  Up I went.  It was as if I wrapped Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak on.  I never was discovered and there remained until the memorial was over.  Time passed, and it was getting warmer.  From my perch I could see the quad filling up with mourners.  The open stage was filling up with the Morehouse Men’s Glee club. I could feel the tension growing as more people from the march began to move into the quad.  Soon, there was nary an open space on the ground.  And it was getting warmer as tstood and sat on the grass. Finally the mule drawn farm wood wagon arrived with Dr. King’s casket in the back. Immediately behind walking were Coretta King, her children, and family and leaders of the civil rights movement.  Closely behind were Hubert Humphrey, and the Kennedy brothers, Ted, Bobby and other Kennedy family members. Even Richard Nixon was there.  

The casket was lifted from wagon, and carried up the steps into the quad and down the path right where my perch was.  Coretta, the children and all the dignitaries walked behind the casket.  You can imagine my emotion how I was just a few feet above this assembly and how I wasn’t discovered, how I held my breath.  The Moorehouse Glee Club was singing in crescendo, and the crowd pivoted like filings to a magent, all turned towards the casket and the family, as it slowing moved just below me.  I remember the color of the casket, a dark mahogany shining in the noon sun.  Coretta’s black, veiled hat, the children in black, slowing walking, wending their way to the front of the dais. 

The second memorial began with the singing of the choirs and prayers.  Two iconic speakers came forward.  Dr. Benjamin E Mays gave the eulogy. He waas an early civil rights leader, educator and speaker at the March on Washington at the Lincoln Memorial where Dr. King gave his iconic “I Have a Dream Speech.” Rabbi Abraham Heschel, a close friend and spiritual advisor, entoned the kaddesh, the prayer for the dead of the Hebrew people.

I weep every time I hear the powerful voice of Dr. King many years later, as he concludes his mighty speech at the Lincoln Memorial, August 28, 1963:

“And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

The weeping is an acknowledgement that not only the dream has yet to become reality, it seems that even as there are advances in diversity, there are fallbacks to the old racism.

Then and there, I decided to be an activist rather than react to historical events.  I also returned to Christianity by responding to an invitation from a friend, to worship at Trinity United Methodist Church, in Atlanta GA, on the corner of Trinity and Washington Streets in the Atlanta inner city. Several blocks away is Capitol Homes, a large public housing project, where the church owned a parish house.  Trinity was declining with a white membership, with a history for mission across the world. The church was ingrown and on the defensive.  So when Charlie Spencer, an African-American teen-ager showed up at worship one Sunday, and pastor Ken Jones welcomed him, half of the remaining white membership left and took their money with them.