Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Holy Week


Holy Week reminds us of the death and resurrection of our Saviour. It’s like a long birth canal, this week, in that the Gospels reveal the story of the culturally contextualized, incarnational womb-like existence of Christ, embedded in the unique and particular ancient culture of Judaism - for thirty years, privately and then 3 years in public ministry.

As in childbirth, there is a period of excruciating pain (in the crux and crisis of the Cross) that soon gives birth to the new, resurrection life of the First of a whole new Race, the Second Adam, our Saviour, our Friend, the Firstborn, our Lord and Master - Jesus.

This is the One who overcomes the guilt and the bondage of the world and its citizens, the One who took the place of sinners that they might be set free – to be the fully human Creatures once again, and to the restored hope of a fully restored Creation one Day. He became ‘sin’ for us that through Him we might receive - indeed might become, the righteous and the righteousness of God.

This is the One who overcomes shame and blame. When reviled, accused, scorned, abused and spit upon (in the midst of a shame-culture, where blessing and cursing and ‘tit for tat’ was the norm), even then He opened not His mouth. Even though He was not to blame, He took the blame. He for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame . . .

This is the One who overcame fear. His perfect Love (for His Father, for the elect citizens of earth, for the world – ie. cosmos, itself) overcame fear. He came to that point in his ministry when, his time - his hour having come, He set His face like flint towards Jerusalem and toward all that would await Him there.

Thanks be to God for His incredible Gift !

Monday, March 17, 2008

St, Patrick's Day

I have two links with Irish roots in my family tree, from both my mother and father's sides of the family.

My mother's mother's mother's mother was Monica Kelly. Her parents were James Kelly and Mary Ann Connor (O'Connor). Though Monica was born in London, England, her parents were born in Cork Ireland. Mary ann Connor was the daughter of Owen Connor and Catherine Unknown, both from Cork, while James Kelly was the son of Edward Kelly and Monica Unknown. All of this gets me back to around the early 1800s

On my father's side, the name is Willoughby (not a popular name at some times in Irish history for, no doubt this English (and earlier, Norman) family was likely part of the 'subduing' of the Irish at the time of Cromwell who moved in ways both bloody and stupidly oppressive). There is the usual family story of being descended from a Lord and Lady Willoughby. My ancestor, Charles Willoughby came from Killaveney, Co Wicklow, with his wife, Sarah Langrill (whom he married in 1849 at Ballinatone COI Parish Church, near Cappagh, Aughrim, Co Wicklow), and with his family in about 1850. Their eldest daughter, Sarah, married my ancestor John Barber in Guelph, Ontario.

So, there's green in my blood . . .

I must say I'm interested in all public and media 'hoopla' as they visit pubs serving green beer and other incentives for a big drunk - and where there's singing, and Irish dancing and weekend parades. When interviewed everyone advows that they are Irish or wanna-be Irish for a day.

But nobody seems to know what St. Patrick was about or how 'the Irish saved civilization.' It's not so much that he explained the trinity if he did, supposedly, with a shamrock, or that he in some generic sense ‘brought Christianity to Ireland,’ and managed to rid the land of snakes - but that he introduced people to the saving life and work of Jesus Christ, God’s Son our Saviour, into which friendship, forgiveness and new relationship with God, hope for individuals, families, the land of Ireland - and through them many others in the world, this new Life was made possible.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Ready or Not . . .

And then I got thinking of folk I've lost for awhile, who've gone to the Bright Country, and thinking of how soon any of us might get there - oftentimes without a moment's notice, though it may well be that each of us has a whole lot yet left to accomplish. . . Eric Clapton's haunting music and lyrics come to mind . . .

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven
I'll find my way, through night and day
Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven

Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knee
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please
Begging please

(instrumental)

Beyond the door
There's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more...
Tears in heaven

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

Thinking as I Age

Recently I turned 60, and boy does that ever get your attention. Thoughts like - What have I, or what am I getting done in my life? sprang to mind as I contemplate life which is exilerating much too quickly. While musing on some of this, I listened again to Johnn Cash's swan song. It reminds me of the necessity of seizing the day and finding a way before it's too late.

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

Along the Path

The path of the righteous is like the morning sun,
Shining ever brighter till the full light of day . . .
- Proverbs 18

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