Arise and Shine

Reverend Mel Baars O’Malley

January 3, 2015

Presbyterian Church of Chestertown

“Arise and Shine”

Like many of you, I have quite the collection of star words. I have heard that some of you put all of your stars in one spot in your house so you can see them altogether and remember them at once. Some of you may be more like me and put your star words strategically around your house or in your office at work or in the car so that wherever you go, one of your star words is close by, shining its light into your life. I end up putting at least one star on my computer at work because that is where I spend at least a few hours a day counseling soldiers or other service members and sometimes their families. It is helpful to be able to see my star. There are days when I need the reminder of who I am and whose spirit I reflect

Now, Pastor Sara has promised me that she never looks whenever she choses my star each year, and we all know that Pastor Sara would never lie. But, every year it seems like my star word was picked especially for me. For instance, the year that I was in Afghanistan, my star word was “empathy.” I know that you might be thinking, pastors are all very empathetic so that word should be super easy. But, going so many days in a row, without ever having a real break, I found that empathy was more and more difficult for me to offer my soldiers. But, with my star word taped to my computer, I could not escape it. It was a gentle and steady reminder that I wasn’t alone, but was being led and shepherded by One who has infinite empathy to share. With this in mind, I could keep going.

I am sure that you all have stories about the ways that your word was exactly the word you needed, even if at first you were not so sure, or how your star word brought light into places in your life that you didn’t even realize were dim. Our star words bring us encouragement as we navigate our lives, both the ups and downs. In many ways, our star words become a kind of spiritual discipline for the year. It is the word, the idea, the gift, that we meditate on as we negotiate our faith and seek to deepen our relationship with God. Our star words also help us to encourage others, to share God’s light with our neighbors, our co-workers and our family. Whenever we find ourselves on empty, we can lean into our word and rediscover the light that is shining through us.

In some ways, our star words seem to be pretty ordinary. This past year, my word was, “Listen.” It’s a pretty obvious that listening is important in our relationship with God and with one another. You may also recognize the irony that this would be my word since we all know how much I love to talk. But sometimes we need to be reminded of the obvious, reminded, simply, that God is providing everything that we need if we will only pay attention, tune in, notice where God is already at work.

I think this is why I am so drawn to our passage from Isaiah. It is all about the Light that has come into the world at a time when darkness had covered the earth, thick darkness over everyone. The people did not know what light they needed. All they knew is that they were in desperate need. We understand trying to feel our way in the dark, bumping into things, not really being sure of where to find the light switch.

I think this is evident, just reading the news updates or watching even 30 seconds of any one of the presidential debates from any side of the political aisle. It seems that we are all trying to find the light switch. We think to ourselves, maybe the light will come if we just vote for the right candidate or formulate the exact foreign policy, which will bring the peace we are hoping for.  And then we get angry and disappointed when the person or policy we believed would make a difference doesn’t actually bring the light we are longing for. So, we continue to march along in the thick darkness.

This morning, Isaiah reminds us of the good news that we need. He proclaims, “Arise and shine for your light has come.” Isaiah knows we are always in need of a wake up call.  After all, it has been dark for a while. It is easy to start to believe that this darkness is normal and inevitable. So, he tells us, “Lift up your eyes and look around.” Stop chasing what seems to be the light in every direction, and recognize that the True light is already here. Pay attention! Start looking in the right places because the light is all around you.

On a day when we celebrate wise men following the star and bringing their gifts to the holy family, it’s important to remember that it took them more than 12 days of following the star to actually find Jesus. They saw the star when it first appeared but it wasn’t a quick journey to the manger. Though we only get a few verses about their trip, we can guess that following the star wasn’t a smooth ride. There were a lot of bumps along the way. We know for sure that King Herod did his part to interrupt their journey. And I can imagine sand storms, having to travel out of the way to search for water or food, possible camel “break-downs,” and given the fact that cold and flu season comes around ever year, even an upper respiratory illness or two, all of these disruptions got in their way of their following. Life slows us down at times.

But if the journey of the wise men teaches us anything about following the star, it is to keep looking up. No matter how thick the darkness gets, no matter how many bumps and pot holes might be out there waiting for us, if we will remember to keep looking up, the star and its light will still be there. The star has been there all along, ready to guide us, ready to bring warmth and light into whatever darkness we may be facing.   

I spent a long Christmas Day working at the hospital last week. All of the staff were hoping and praying that it would be an uneventful day, but about 12 o-clock noon we got word that there had been a house explosion, probably from a gas leak, and everyone in the family, including four children, who had gathered for Christmas lunch was injured. The worst patients who likely would not survive would be heading our way over the next few hours.

Many of the soldiers that I work with, particularly the ones who have seen the horror of combat, often come to the chaplain in hopes of sorting out the darkness they have encountered. Why did those children have to suffer, they ask? How could God let this happen, they demand, especially on Christmas Day of all the days? If I have learned anything in these fives years of military chaplaincy, it is that sometimes there are no good answers to speak. This is where the star words do their best work. Because often there is really nothing to say that will make the darkness any easier to deal with. But there is something for us to do. We can lift up our eyes and look around. We can notice the gifts that God has given us, the ones that shine through even the thickest darkness.  The gratefulness, the empathy, the vision, the grace, and the listening, and those are just my star words from these past five years. Imagine all of our star words coming together. Imagine the impact as we reflect this holy light further and further.

And if there is one thing I know about PCC, it is that reflecting the light of the star is exactly what you will continue to do in this New Year. Whether it is manning the winter emergency shelter in the coming months, packing backpacks every week so that kids in the neighborhood won’t go hungry, knitting baby hats for Brooke Army Medical Center’s neonatal unit, and all the many ways that you are reflecting the light of the star, this is our response to the darkness.

Arise and shine for our light has come. May we lift up our eyes and look around and follow the star toward the One who has come to bring us new life, whose brightness shines in the darkness and will never be overcome.  May it be so. J Amen

Do Not Fear

CH Mel Baars O’Malley

“Transfigured”

February 7, 2016

BAMC Chapel

I was thinking, as I was preparing for this sermon, that the last time I preached in chapel, fear was the subject. If Chaplain Leathers, one of the Clinical Pastoral Education supervisors were here, he might ask me what it says about m that this theme of fear keeps popping up in many of my sermons. And, he would have a fair point. It seems that fear is everywhere. We can’t really navigate our world without it. Fear is one of our most important survival instincts. We use it to teach our children not to touch the stove or run into traffic, things that can be very harmful for us but, when we are young, we don’t really understand that. Fear quells our curiosity so we don’t have to learn the hard way.

But fear can become counter productive. When we take fear to an extreme, we can easily become paralyzed. I have been known to do this on occasion. J When we let fear take over, we end up missing out on a lot of life because fear has become too important, has taken over everything. We are so afraid of the possibility of one bad apple that we throw the other 99 away. Fear can cause us to close ourselves off so much that we even miss encounters with God.

There is a lot about fear in the Bible. It is a safe bet that no matter the story, the details of what is happening, the people involved are dealing with fear. The Bible tells us the story of God and God’s people, but the story is told as it unfolds. This means there is a lot of unknown quantities. The people wonder, “What’s going to happen?” How is all of this going to turn out?” And most importantly, “Am I going to be ok?” Again and again, God says to them, “I am with you. Do not fear. I love you. You are mine.” But memory can be so fleeting so just as soon as God has come through for them, a new challenge arises and, again, they are wonder, “What’s going to happen?” How is all of this going to turn out?” “Am I going to be ok?” It is a vicious cycle.

Today we have two passages involving groups of scared people. In Exodus, Moses has just had an encounter with God, and this exchange between them has physically changed him…  profoundly. His face is shining. He is radiant. Moses’ presence is literally reflecting God’s brightness. But, rather than be drawn to him, the people are terrified. They won’t come near him. It gets so bad that Moses literally has to put a veil over his face whenever he is around the people so that they will not avoid him.

In the gospel reading, what we often refer to as the transfiguration, Jesus has taken Peter, James and John, his close friends, up another mountain. There, Jesus is transformed into a dazzling white. The disciples witness him having a conversation with Moses and Elijah. Then, they are enveloped by a holy cloud and God says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” It should be no surprise to us that they are terrified, too.

Just like it is healthy to fear a burning hot stove or being run over in traffic, there has often been healthy fear associated with God. The creator of the universe, the author of all, the One who is able to do anything, everything. Awe, respect, and healthy fear these are all appropriate responses to this holy presence. But, the people with Moses aren’t merely shielding their eyes or bowing their heads out reverence for the holy, they are literally running in the other direction. It is as if they are afraid that a close encounter with God might change them, too.

Humans seem to be deeply resistant to change, even when we tell ourselves that we want to change. I have heard it again and again, conversations with patients and service members and friends and in my own head, this feeling of bewilderment over those times when we do or we feel the opposite of what we want to do or feel.  We want to be generous, open, loving and yet some days it is such a struggle. And, too often, we justify our behavior by blaming our fears.

Richard Rohr, a priest who has written prolifically on Christian spirituality, talks about this resistance to change in terms of sin. We are addicted, in a way, to our sin just like an alcoholic is addicted to alcohol. Resistance to chance, our sin, is part of who we are. Even a life of seeming sinlessness doesn’t eradicate sin just like sobriety doesn’t mean a person is no longer an alcoholic. In fact, one of our biggest dangers is to think that we are ever fully recovered. Instead, we are continually striving for recovery. It is never complete but an ongoing process of transfiguration.

Much earlier in Exodus, God appears to Moses in the form of a burning bush. It is a safe bet to say that fear and trembling pulsed through Moses’ veins, as it would for any of us, when God first called out to him from the fire. But fear didn’t paralyze Moses. In fact, once he gets over his shock over this encounter with God, he takes off his sandals to signify that he is standing on holy ground. He is in the presence of God and he is afraid, but his fear doesn’t compel him to flee. Instead, he stops everything he is doing, embraces God’s presence and is forever changed.

So what helps Moses breathe through his fear so that he is able to stay open to God’s presence rather than run in the opposite direction? When fear sets in and we feel those survival instincts ramping up, what can help us, to stay right where we are, to take a risk, to remain open to a God who surprises us where we least expect it, in burning bushing, a dazzling face, or a mysterious clouds, or in the places we are most afraid to go, into relationships with someone who is different than us, back to the doctor to get the news about a biopsy, to all those spaces of unknown.

Jesus doesn’t invite Peter and James and John to go with him up that mountain so that they will experience fear. He invites them because there they will encounter holy ground and be forever changed. It is where God is at work, transforming and transfiguring. And, because they go with Jesus they teach us a valuable lesson about God’s presence. When a cloud descends, when darkness comes and you can’t see anything and you are afraid, God will be there with you.

The Israelites were afraid of Moses and his shining face because he was living proof that an encounter with God would change them forever. Change, transformation, is scary and unknown. I am sure that some of them wanted to be free from the burden of their sin, something that only God can help with, but their survival instincts would not allow them to voluntarily wade into that uncharted holy territory. Very few of them would go there on their own. And, we understand. We struggle to go there, too.

But just like Jesus invited Peter and James and John, he invites us up to the mountain of transfiguration. He doesn’t ask us to come because he wants us to be terrified. Jesus invites us to come to the mountain so that we can have the experience of facing fear with him by our side. Come on, he says, let the cloud envelop you and let the fear swell. But hold on to me, too. Breathe in and out and let me transform you.

In a few days we will be marked with ashes and reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return. As we enter into this season of Lent, may we see this time as an opportunity for growth, for a time for our own transfiguration. And whether we focus on sacrifice or on a new spiritual discipline this Lent, whatever we do to expand our faith, may it help us to find our way up the mountain, and with both fear and trust in God’s promises to us, allow the holy cloud to wash over us, changing us forever.

Embracing Fear

CH Mel Baars O’Malley

“Transfigured”

February 7, 2016

BAMC Chapel

I was thinking, as I was preparing for this sermon, that the last time I preached in chapel, fear was the subject. If Chaplain Leathers, one of the Clinical Pastoral Education supervisors were here, he might ask me what it says about m that this theme of fear keeps popping up in many of my sermons. And, he would have a fair point. It seems that fear is everywhere. We can’t really navigate our world without it. Fear is one of our most important survival instincts. We use it to teach our children not to touch the stove or run into traffic, things that can be very harmful for us but, when we are young, we don’t really understand that. Fear quells our curiosity so we don’t have to learn the hard way.

But fear can become counter productive. When we take fear to an extreme, we can easily become paralyzed. I have been known to do this on occasion. J When we let fear take over, we end up missing out on a lot of life because fear has become too important, has taken over everything. We are so afraid of the possibility of one bad apple that we throw the other 99 away. Fear can cause us to close ourselves off so much that we even miss encounters with God.

There is a lot about fear in the Bible. It is a safe bet that no matter the story, the details of what is happening, the people involved are dealing with fear. The Bible tells us the story of God and God’s people, but the story is told as it unfolds. This means there is a lot of unknown quantities. The people wonder, “What’s going to happen?” How is all of this going to turn out?” And most importantly, “Am I going to be ok?” Again and again, God says to them, “I am with you. Do not fear. I love you. You are mine.” But memory can be so fleeting so just as soon as God has come through for them, a new challenge arises and, again, they are wonder, “What’s going to happen?” How is all of this going to turn out?” “Am I going to be ok?” It is a vicious cycle.

Today we have two passages involving groups of scared people. In Exodus, Moses has just had an encounter with God, and this exchange between them has physically changed him…  profoundly. His face is shining. He is radiant. Moses’ presence is literally reflecting God’s brightness. But, rather than be drawn to him, the people are terrified. They won’t come near him. It gets so bad that Moses literally has to put a veil over his face whenever he is around the people so that they will not avoid him.

In the gospel reading, what we often refer to as the transfiguration, Jesus has taken Peter, James and John, his close friends, up another mountain. There, Jesus is transformed into a dazzling white. The disciples witness him having a conversation with Moses and Elijah. Then, they are enveloped by a holy cloud and God says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” It should be no surprise to us that they are terrified, too.

Just like it is healthy to fear a burning hot stove or being run over in traffic, there has often been healthy fear associated with God. The creator of the universe, the author of all, the One who is able to do anything, everything. Awe, respect, and healthy fear these are all appropriate responses to this holy presence. But, the people with Moses aren’t merely shielding their eyes or bowing their heads out reverence for the holy, they are literally running in the other direction. It is as if they are afraid that a close encounter with God might change them, too.

Humans seem to be deeply resistant to change, even when we tell ourselves that we want to change. I have heard it again and again, conversations with patients and service members and friends and in my own head, this feeling of bewilderment over those times when we do or we feel the opposite of what we want to do or feel.  We want to be generous, open, loving and yet some days it is such a struggle. And, too often, we justify our behavior by blaming our fears.

Richard Rohr, a priest who has written prolifically on Christian spirituality, talks about this resistance to change in terms of sin. We are addicted, in a way, to our sin just like an alcoholic is addicted to alcohol. Resistance to chance, our sin, is part of who we are. Even a life of seeming sinlessness doesn’t eradicate sin just like sobriety doesn’t mean a person is no longer an alcoholic. In fact, one of our biggest dangers is to think that we are ever fully recovered. Instead, we are continually striving for recovery. It is never complete but an ongoing process of transfiguration.

Much earlier in Exodus, God appears to Moses in the form of a burning bush. It is a safe bet to say that fear and trembling pulsed through Moses’ veins, as it would for any of us, when God first called out to him from the fire. But fear didn’t paralyze Moses. In fact, once he gets over his shock over this encounter with God, he takes off his sandals to signify that he is standing on holy ground. He is in the presence of God and he is afraid, but his fear doesn’t compel him to flee. Instead, he stops everything he is doing, embraces God’s presence and is forever changed.

So what helps Moses breathe through his fear so that he is able to stay open to God’s presence rather than run in the opposite direction? When fear sets in and we feel those survival instincts ramping up, what can help us, to stay right where we are, to take a risk, to remain open to a God who surprises us where we least expect it, in burning bushing, a dazzling face, or a mysterious clouds, or in the places we are most afraid to go, into relationships with someone who is different than us, back to the doctor to get the news about a biopsy, to all those spaces of unknown.

Jesus doesn’t invite Peter and James and John to go with him up that mountain so that they will experience fear. He invites them because there they will encounter holy ground and be forever changed. It is where God is at work, transforming and transfiguring. And, because they go with Jesus they teach us a valuable lesson about God’s presence. When a cloud descends, when darkness comes and you can’t see anything and you are afraid, God will be there with you.

The Israelites were afraid of Moses and his shining face because he was living proof that an encounter with God would change them forever. Change, transformation, is scary and unknown. I am sure that some of them wanted to be free from the burden of their sin, something that only God can help with, but their survival instincts would not allow them to voluntarily wade into that uncharted holy territory. Very few of them would go there on their own. And, we understand. We struggle to go there, too.

But just like Jesus invited Peter and James and John, he invites us up to the mountain of transfiguration. He doesn’t ask us to come because he wants us to be terrified. Jesus invites us to come to the mountain so that we can have the experience of facing fear with him by our side. Come on, he says, let the cloud envelop you and let the fear swell. But hold on to me, too. Breathe in and out and let me transform you.

In a few days we will be marked with ashes and reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return. As we enter into this season of Lent, may we see this time as an opportunity for growth, for a time for our own transfiguration. And whether we focus on sacrifice or on a new spiritual discipline this Lent, whatever we do to expand our faith, may it help us to find our way up the mountain, and with both fear and trust in God’s promises to us, allow the holy cloud to wash over us, changing us forever.

Judas and me

Chaplain Mel O’Malley

Brooke Army Medical Center

March 13, 2016

“A New, Old Thing”

This week I have been thinking a lot about Judas. You may be thinking that Judas is kind of a strange person for me to be thinking a lot about. I can’t really remember when I first heard about him, probably some lesson in church school when I was very young. But I know, whenever it was, it wasn’t a good thing. I can’t recall one story where Judas comes out looking like a good disciple, or even a decent human being. When we hear the name Judas, we don’t get a warm and fuzzy feeling, which is likely the reason that the name Judas was 11515^th on a list of popular, or in this case, unpopular boy names from last year. There were only three reported babies named Judas.

It’s not surprising though, because none of us wants to be like Judas. When I was reflecting on Judas in the office here on Friday, I asked one of the other chaplains if he knew any stories where Judas was painted in a positive light. As we thought through passages, and even talked about our gospel from today where Judas is judging Mary for using her perfume on Jesus instead of giving it to the poor, he said, “You know, the Gospels were written down after the fact. It’s no wonder that Judas was painted so negatively. His whole person is seen through the lens of his final act.” He really has been made into a real Biblical villain, the betrayer, the one who helped to crucify Jesus, as if Jesus’ death was all his fault. We would much rather blame someone else, than see where we might be responsible.

A lot of effort has been made over the years to show just how different us good church going folk are from a guy like Judas. But, the problem with making Judas into the bad guy is that we push him so far away from us that it is hard to see how we are similar, the traits we share, how we, just like him, struggle to live and act and follow Jesus well. The more self-aware I become, the more compassion I have for Judas. I wonder how he got so lost. I am sure he didn’t start out intending to lose his way, or to betray his friend. One thing led to the next and before he realized it, he was a long way from the still waters, from paths of righteousness. I guess I have realized that what made Judas fragile and vulnerable to temptation, is exactly the same for me.

Our gospel today brings together a cast of characters who are all pretty familiar. Judas, Lazarus, Mary and Martha are all gathered together for dinner. When I read through the story this week, I realized in all the years that I have heard about the woman who uses her very expensive perfume to anoint Jesus, I never made the connection that this was Mary, as in the Mary from the story of Martha and Mary. I am sure you know it. The story where Martha is doing all the hard, tedious work of hosting a meal and Mary is sitting with Jesus, spending quality time with him. In the end, an annoyed Martha is chided for not simply being with Jesus, for missing out on the moment because of being so distracted by doing.

Of all the different derivations of this story about Mary and Martha, one theme seems to emerge. This is the idea that being “right” or even doing “right” is not always the most important thing. This is not an easy lesson for someone like me who LOVES being right. If my husband were here he would corroborate my confession. But here’s the issue. Being right forces one into the position of judge. And, this is part of the problem here for Judas. He has heard enough Biblical teaching to know, at least intellectually, that caring for the poor is God’s commandment. He knows that excess and waste is wrong. So, when he witnesses Mary’s act of love for Jesus, all he sees is the transaction- costly perfume used up in a matter of seconds on one person. On the surface, it is a waste. He watched Jesus feed a hungry multitude. He knows that Jesus’ heart is with those who are in need. So, he sees an opportunity to be right, or more pointedly, point out where someone else is wrong. He self appoints himself as judge, a position that we are reminded again and again, isn’t for us to occupy.

But let us not also fall into the trap off making Judas into the bad guy. First of all, I am not sure I can go a whole hour much less an entire day without inching my way into the judge’s seat. It is very difficult to stay out of judgment, which is probably why Jesus spends so much time teaching about its perils. Often, we slip into the judgment mode, and we don’t even realize it. We self appoint ourselves as the arbiter of right and wrong. Being right is about holding a position of power, which presupposes that those who are wrong are in a lesser place. People who have a constant need to be right often struggle with feelings of inadequacy and self worth. For instance, if I need to focus on where others are wrong so that I feel that I am ok, clearly, I am not ok. 

This is where grace comes in for a person like Judas. He isn’t ok. He doesn’t know how to be in a relationship with Jesus because he doesn’t know how to love himself. It’s so much easier to be right than stay in relationship because relationships bring so much hard stuff to the surface, our weakness and vulnerability, our deep need to be loved, our fears of rejection, our shame of being fully seen warts and all. Focusing on being right, and knowing better than, is a lot easier than dealing with all of that.

Jesus deftly turns Judas’ thinking upside-down. But not because Jesus didn’t care about the poor, or because he was suddenly fine with waste and excess, but because Jesus cares more about relationships than about being right. He is most interesting in loving and teaching us to love than harping on all the places where we are wrong. He was trying to help Judas see that there is more to this scene than being right. Mary gets that. She understands. She understood this when she took time to sit with Jesus and cultivate a relationship with him rather than worrying about hosting a lunch, and she understood this when she used up her most valuable possession in a matter of minutes to wash and anoint Jesus’ feet, to tenderly love him the best way she knew how.

Reflecting on this story makes me ask myself how I might be more like Mary than like Judas?” Both of them heard Jesus’ teachings, witnessed his miracles, lived in his presence and observed his radical ministry. Discipleship was demonstrated to both of them in the flesh. There were no secrets, nothing hidden. Yet, one was able to open her heart, to recognize the gift of relationship and the other was not.

It seems to me that we are constantly navigating this reality, whether to open up our hearts to love and the perils of relationships or to keep them closed off. Choosing risk over safety. It was certainly a risk for Mary to love and believe in a man who was headed for death, who would soon be hunted and whose friends would also be in danger because of their association with him. It is a risk to open up our hearts because we can’t selectively open them to just the good stuff. When we open up our hearts we also let in the hard stuff, too. It’s a counter-intuitive decision for many of us. And, it’s not easy.

But this morning, amidst our own struggles with choosing love, with admitting just how fragile, how vulnerable we are, we are also reminded that God is making a way for us. God’s voice rings out saying, “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” And yet this new thing is not really new at all. It’s the same thing that God has been doing for us from the very beginning. Whether it’s making a way through the mighty sea or holding us close and teaching us to open our hearts again, God is with us, helping us find a way toward new life, a way toward resurrection.

In just a few days we will be reminded of Judas’ final act as a betrayer, we will remember with grief, his final act. We will acknowledge how fragile, how vulnerable any of us could be. But let us also remember Judas as a child of God, one who Jesus called to be his very own, one with whom Jesus broke bread. Let us bear this good news to the world, that the one who has come to save us all, the one who brings life out of death, is also the one who will go to the ends of the earth to find that one lost sheep. And when he finds it, lays it on his shoulders and rejoices.

May we let our hearts to be opened wide. May we walk in the light. May we allow ourselves be found. Amen.