When Little Things=Big Things

An encouraging bit of news (\in-ˈkər-ij-ing—literally, having to do with making the heart bigger) came in the Science page of the NY Times this week. Elizabeth Sheehan, founder of Containers to Clinics was preparing to take their first clinic to the Dominican Republic. Their ‘clinics’ are made of two old shipping containers which together house two examining rooms, a laboratory and a pharmacy. Very portable. Easy to redirect. They will be on their way to Haiti now if they can get a medical team assembled.

Elizabeth Hausler, who is an engineer and founder of Build Change went to India to learn more about earthquakes following the devastating quake of 2001. She learned that earthquakes rarely kill people: poorly constructed buildings kill people. She also learned that post-quake rebuilding has usually been done by governments and big nonprofits and has usually been done ‘top-down.' She reports “Contractors would swoop in and build a bunch of houses for people and leave.” Homeowners are often not involved. Houses are too often wrong for the country, the climate, the culture. The main door might open to the street in a place where people are more private and prefer the main door to open onto a courtyard. “If a door is in the wrong place, then the homeowner is going to knock a hole in the wall — and that’s not good for the structure.” Dr Hausler was able to help rebuild in Indonesia after the tsunami and in China after the Sichuan quake. In both places she helped aid officials work with local governments and local homeowners. Dr Hausler now plans to help in Haiti, to which I quietly say, Thank you, God.

The Gospel this Sunday pulses with amazing phrases. “Bring good news to the poor.” “Proclaim release to the captives.” “Let the oppressed go free.” We don’t all do this in the same way, or in the name of Jesus or of any other religion. Nevertheless for whoever does it, and does it well...Thank you, God

Up and Down and Up Again

We’re moving into the liturgical seasons of great contrasts: Epiphany to Lent to Easter. Up and down and up again. Our own seasons rarely match up with liturgical season and yet our lives eventually do as we follow Jesus. We find inspiration and desolation and consolation. We feel strong, we feel weak, we feel reinvigorated. We cultivate spirituality because it’s enjoyable sometimes, we cling to it because life terrifies us sometimes, we simple rest in God sometimes because gradually we come to trust God almost no matter what. It helps to pay attention to these seasons year after year after year.
It’s early in Epiphany now. We’re climbing, reaching the highest point, the mountain of Transfiguration, the week before Ash Wednesday. Then we descend slowly until we reach almost to hell on Good Friday. Suddenly Jesus speaks to us again on Easter in a closed room or a cemetery garden and we can hardly believe we’ve lived to see such Life. It’s quite a journey.

Home by Another way

After Epiphany...

After Epiphany--after feeling inspired and empowered--it might be nice to coast a bit. Alas, not to be.

The lesson from Isaiah doesn't speak of rest but of challenge.

Thus says the Lord...
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.

Mostly, I'd rather the Lord be with me on the banks of the river instead of in the river. And with me toasting marshmallows around the fire instead of leading me into the fire itself. But being in the river and in the fire is part of the grace (and reality) of our baptism.

The Epiphany season journey of the Magi is one way to look at the One Great Journey. We're called by something irresistible and wonderful and we choose to go and are given light to find the way.

The experience of Israel uprooted and dragged away is another way to look at the One Great Journey. So many things happen in lives that land us in places we really don't want to be.

God promises to be with us in both places. Both in inspiration and desperation, and the wonderful and terrible challenge is to open our tender and vulnerable hearts equally in both places, which requires courage and practice.

We'd rather grace come all by itself, without any effort on our part (isn't that what grace means?). Yes and no.

As Norman MacLean writes in A River Runs Through It, " all good things -- trout as well as eternal salvation -- come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy."