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Peggy is a Licensed Professional Counselor and Certified Spiritual Director working in Salem Oregon. 503-316-9050 - Links
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4.24.2011Apostola ApostolorumThat's what the early Church called her. The Apostle to the Apostles. He spoke to her first. Magdalen Not Mary of Bethany, the good student Not Lazarus, who you would have expected to expect the empty tomb. Not His mother, not one of the three. Magdalen She of the seven demons. She who needed him more than the others, Because if he wasn't real, what had she to go back to? He said that if you cleaned a house you had better fill it or it will be refilled by hell times ten. He had more than filled her mind and heart and soul And then He was gone. Blinded by grief she did not see Him. She hadn't seen Him the first time either. Cowering in a deep hidden corner of her soul. But she had heard His approach Demons screaming as they fled or were bested in battle. And He had found her then with His voice He had called her by her name And pulled her back up to herself. Where have you taken Him? That's where I have to be. I don't care if it is death. And He spoke And she knew Him And she was full and sane and whole. Her house so in order that she was ready for company. And she went forth the First Witness. Truth Teller. And they believed her. Eventually. . 4.23.2011The Harrowing of HellJesus Fire Dancer So There I was... …Enjoying the fire dancing. I am the pastor of a post-modern church, so my pastoral duties occasionally include things like fire dancing. One of my folks invited me to come down to the riverfront park in our town and watch her spin about her head small flaming objects attached to chains. Some of her friends were dancing with sticks aflame at both ends, and the dancers were accompanied by a group of people banging on drums. All this was done after dark, of course, on this cool, early April, Easter Vigil. It was all very tribal, very pre-Christian, or maybe post-Christian. The dancers moved to the beat we all heard, but also to melodies heard only by their spiritual ears. The fires made great “whooshy” sounds as they whizzed about, describing circles in the dark air as if some wizard was teaching geometry to an unseen class. The circles got big, the circles got small, ellipsis and figure eights appeared around the dancers heads, feet and sometimes between their legs. The attitude of the dancers seemed serene, reflective, in control. Occasionally flames from one dancer would interact with the flames of another. I saw flames lick at clothing and hair but no one ignited themselves. All in all it was a great Holy Saturday activity. I am a Quaker and one of our testimonies is that every day is a holy day and that all activities can be sacramental, but we are free to participate an all that leads us towards God, and the Easter Story certainly does that. I have always had a fascination with the Saturday piece of the story, called by some the Harrowing of Hell. To harrow means to plow, or deeply disturb the earth; to disrupt the status quo. It is clear that both the Apostles Peter and Paul believed that Christ was not inactive during the time between Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. Sometimes He is pictured as a preacher, speaking the truth to the souls in Sheol. Talk about a captive audience! Sometimes he is pictured as a liberator bursting the gates of Hell open from the inside. Eastern Orthodox icons depict Hell as cold and empty with one or two chained demons and Jesus resurrected surrounded by former inmates. That’s a great picture. Hell exists. A place separate from God must exist for free will to mean anything, but the door is open and the exit sign is clearly marked. It is the church that has rebuilt the gates of Hell and found useful the scare tactic of inescapable torment. While sitting in the dark and cold, contemplating Holy Saturday and watching neo-pagan fire dancers, I received a new image of Jesus - Fire dancer. In my vision He shows up in the dark and cold of Hell and converses with the Adversary: A: Welcome, Always knew you’d end up here. JC: Thanks, I make it everywhere eventually, you know. A: Really? I think your traveling days are over bud. Like the flames? JC: Actually I do like the flames. Mind if I play a little? He reaches down and picks up two handfuls of combustion and starts drawing circles in the air. A crowd appears. A drumbeat starts from somewhere deep. He steps lightly and playfully, showing his mastery, his serenity, His cool. The crowd starts dancing. A: Cute tricks, been done before, but it’s going to get old. JC: Anybody ever done this? The circle of flame above his head expands explosively, and He hurls it towards the gates. Those evil old doors crack and fly outward, and Jesus the fire dancer leads a parade out, up and away. . 4.22.2011No More Scapegoat Jesus
4.21.2011And now for some Seasonal FavoritesThe Next three posts will be Seasonal Repeats - Happy Holy Days 3.04.2008Geek Squad JesusToday's UPI columnSo There I was… Inside an organ. The church organ was old even during my childhood. It had fallen upon hard times, having been sold with the building by the Lutherans. It was as big as a small house, from the motor in the basement that filled its mighty bellows to the 16 foot pipes soaring above the sanctuary. My mother played it every Sunday. Trained on piano she taught herself how to play the two keyboards and the extra keyboard of pedals that she played with her feet. She had nearly perfect pitch and the organ that hadn’t had proper maintenance in a decade must have driven her to distraction. This is how my father came to be the organ’s repairman. He claimed it started with a toaster. She wanted to throw it out. He told her it was perfectly good, it just needed a little work. He was kinda cheap. She handed it to him. “Fine, Fix it.” So he took it apart and figured out what was wrong and fixed it on the spot. He was proud. She was cautiously impressed. She said “You think you can fix anything, don’t you?” He allowed as this might be close to the truth. She said “Fine – fix my organ.” And his career as a repairer of fine wooden tracker pipe organs began. He climbed around inside that thing for years. And when there was occasionally something he wanted to reach in a space too small for an adult, he sent in one of us children. We learned obedience – touch this not that. Put your feet here not there. He was good with machines, and good with children. He was bold. And he knew that you couldn’t fix the organ from the keyboard you had to get inside it to do the job. I cannot help that fact that he shaped my theological impressions. I wouldn’t want to. I have previously stated that I think that the death of Christ had nothing to do with punishment. Even Pilate knew that this was a farce. So what did happen on that day outside of Jerusalem almost 2000 years ago? I think something broken got fixed. I see Jesus the redeemer, as Jesus the repairman, tech support if you will. See, there was this system called ‘time and space’ and running on this system was a program called ‘humanity.’ And it got all buggy. And the code called ‘the law’ just wasn’t working. So the system designer had to crack it all open. Get inside, wipe some stuff, patch other stuff, write some whole new stuff. It’s a frustrating job, but somebody’s got to do it. It helps if the somebody doing the fixing knows what they are doing. It also helps to have patience. Sometimes, people are just dumb, they do not interface well with the program, and you have to very patiently explain to them, again and again, how the thing is supposed to work. But if the code is all glitchy, you have to get your hands dirty. And you can’t fix the code from the desktop. So for me the incarnation, life, teaching, death and resurrection of Christ is all part of the same repair job. He got in, bringing with Him tools, skills, and a supremely solid connection to the designer. He ran the program, personally. Diagnostics were completed. One of the buggiest parts of the program was death, so he ran that too. But death was not the end, Resurrection - the reboot to end all reboots was needed. Emptied the recycle bin called Hell while He was at it. The Law was rewritten, and the concept of clean and unclean pretty much wiped. Do you know what a time saver that was? Efficiency upgrade deluxe. Religious practice within the confines of tribal groups was made obsolete. Limitless grace was written in. Then the lovely fixed program had to be turned over to the users. So a help desk was established. Some people call it the Holy Spirit, some people call it the Present Christ, some people call it The Inner Light – there are lots of names for it. But it is there 24/7. So we run the program. Seek the Kingdom. Pursue peace. Get Serenity. Achieve enlightenment. War and hate are options under the free will part of the program. So are glory, sacrifice, and love. Calamity is just part of the set up. Calamity makes room for altruism and compassion. The whole thing works imperfectly, very imperfectly, but that is because of the human interface, not the program. The program works just fine. The human learning curve is steep but it is also part of the design. Everybody in the program has a task. Finding it and performing it is the work of being human. I am a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I work for tech support. I run tutorials. I coach new users. I scan for viruses. I help people with their upgrades. I try and keep a very solid connection. Occasionally I help people bust out of dead end spots they get themselves into. It is a good gig. Frustrating at times, but very satisfying at others. I come by it naturally. Dad would understand. 4.03.2011Nothing Says Easter quite like CompostAll my Theology lives in my garden. Any dogma not displayed there is suspect to me. My Father taught me this. Early. Compost is the visible lesson of life coming out of death. Compost teaches me that nothing and no one is ever really lost. Compost teaches me to work WITH God and God's processes. Compost tells me that if I work with God, miracles are easy. Hauling that miracle out to the right spot, can still be a bit of work. Work is good for me. . |

