Audio transcription: Last week on The Exodus God chose Moses to lead the Israelites who are known in our story as the forgetful, ungrateful grumpy people. With the Israelites trapped in slavery in Egypt, God teaches Moses a few tricks more impressive than the Pharaoh’s magicians. Finally God struck the Pharaoh with ten plagues designed to use natural disasters, attack the Egyptians fertility and demonstrate that the Israelites' God was more powerful that the gods of the Nile.

Now, I’m sure you remember all ten plagues, so feel free to shout them out now.[pause]

Church geeks and those good at reading, good for you. Now everyone else, here’s a recap.

First, water is turned to blood and the fish die.

Frogs. Cute, but also smelly and slimy.

Lice, not just in their hair, but everywhere. *cough* STD

Flies. Doesn’t sound scary, but it worked… until God hardened Pharaoh’s heart again.

Diseased livestock, probably from germs on the flies.

Boils that never heal *cough* STD

Hail, fire and thunder rained down from the sky. This works too until God again hardens Pharaoh’s heart. Whose side is God on anyway? [video of Locusts plague on screen]

Darkness. So dark you could feel it. Pharaoh says that the Israelites can go, but he wants to keep their stuff. Moses says “no.”

Death of the firstborn humans and animals. Pharaoh finally lets the Israelites go, because he’s afraid he may be killed next.

And now back to our story…

On their way out of Egypt, the Israelites turn back (like Lot’s wife in Sodom) and in their fear they cry out to God, which in this story means, they grumbled to Moses.

They said, ‘Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt? Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, “Let us alone and let us serve the Egyptians”? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.’

Which was essentially the Israelites snarky way of mocking Moses by saying: Did we really have to go on such a long hot trecherous walk if we were just going to suffer the same fate as everyone we watched die in those plagues? This guy he never listens, we tell him over and over and he never listens. I’d rather be a slave than be dead.

Moses responds to them saying: “Do not be afraid” and “peace be still.” These words will later be plagiarized by another prophet when his 12 forgetful, ungrateful grumpy disciples become scared of the sea, but that’s another story.

Moses tells the Israelites the Egyptians will all be killed by God if they can manage to stand completely still and get out of God’s way.

Then God responds to the Israelites, which in this story means he talks to Moses, and says why are they grumbling to me? Keep them moving. Then you will lift up your staff, stretch out your hand over the sea, say hocus-pocus, divide the sea, and have the Israelites walk through it on the dry ground. Well, maybe God didn’t say the bit about hocus-pocus. But God did say that God would harden the hearts of the Egyptians so they will chase the Israelites and God will show the Egyptians, the Pharaoh, the chariots and the chariot drivers who is boss. There was an angel of God walking in front and behind the Israelites. Did I forget to mention that before? Well there was. And, it was super dark. And there was a pillar of cloud, which then moved both in front and behind them and lit up the night and kept the Israelites and the Egyptians separated all night long.

Then Moses stretched his hand over the sea and God divided the water all night long with a strong East wind. The Israelites walked across the sea, on dry land, with walls of water on both sides of them. The Egyptians went into the sea after them.

Then, either on the last military watch of the night, or the first watch of the morning, God in a pillar of fire looked at the Egyptians and it freaked them out and they began to panic and try to run away from the Israelites. But God clogged the wheels of their chariots. It does say how, but I think it was really muddy. Never the less it was really heard for the chariots to turn around and they were heard screaming “Run away, run away God is fighting for the Israelites against Egypt.

Then God told Moses to stretch out his hand in order to dump the water back on the Egyptians. So, he did and by dawn the water had returned to normal. As the Egyptians ran away from the water, God tossed the Egyptians into the sea and the water returned to its normal depth and covered them completely. Every single Egyptian died. But the Israelites were saved because they had walked on the dry ground with the water on either side of them. And that’s how God saved the Israelites and the Israelites saw the Egyptians dead on the shore.

Israel saw what God did to the Egyptians, so like the Pharaoh who had been afraid God would kill him, the people saw God’s great works and were very afraid. But it also caused them believed in God and God’s slave Moses.

And so this episode ends with Moses and the Israelites singing this song to God: I will sing God, for he has triumphed gloriously, horse and rider he’s thrown in the sea.

Or perhaps it was it bit more like: Nanner, nanner, nanner our God is cooler than yours.

COT featured on Living Lutheran

The most unusual prayer I’ve ever written was a blessing for fertilizer. This was one of many prayers I wrote for the blessing of the Free Farm, where both Bishop Mark Holmerud of the ELCA’s Sierra Pacific Synod and Bishop Marc Andrus of the Episcopal Diocese of California declared the site a church.

Created from materials diverted from the San Francisco dump, on the site where St. Paulus Lutheran Church burnt down in the early ‘90s, the Free Farm is an assemblage of motley farm folk, hipsters, faith leaders, professors and hippies.

While the work that happens at the farm may not seem like typical church, the medical herb labyrinth created from the bricks of the old church and the fact that the farmers have grown and given away nearly 6,000 pounds of produce to local neighbors revives ancient Lutheran practices.

Read the rest at Living Lutheran

Lent 4B: Change the World - a response to the Christian PTSD of Lent

Today's Gospel text in John (3:14-21) is talking about making tough dark and light decisions. As Jesus moves closer and closer to his death, the question of who is in and who is out become more important. Like times in our lives when we have felt on the margins or close to an all or nothing, life or death decisions it is very human to limit ourselves to the company of those who agree 100% with us. In times of life and death it is important.

Nellie McKay's "Change the World" draws out the way it feels to be in the midst of this kind of decision.



Her political satire and playful humor also reminds us that this is not a way to live every day. As the community trying to live ethical Christian lives in the aftermath of Jesus' brutal death, we must be aware of the PTSD that we care from reenacting and retelling this Lenten story every year. Most importantly, we must remember that this act happened in the past and it is not happening now.

While it may be easier to justify decisions that are all or nothing in times of war, terror and trauma, Lent should be a time of remembering, not retraumatizing!

So this Sunday, we take a peak into what it is like to make decisions in Lent, but we also stay in touch with our present realities, families, communities and remember that this is a story about Jesus - not us or our church. While the words of the Gospel text may speak to a much more emergent time, it is not a life or death decision for others to agree with us, believe just as we do or to hide away in dark rooms only with people who agree with us.

In fact, if we don't want to get into a Lenten situation again, where people are required to agree to religious and political ideology or end up on a cross, it would seem that tolerance and compassion would be our way to avoid that fate.

I've always wondered why people have tried so hard to do exactly as Jesus did, when the story so clearly ends badly for him (at least in the story that ends at Good Friday - as the oldest version of the Gospel of Mark do).

God is dynamic and learns by interacting with creation. I propose that we follow that example. Let us be people who are dynamic and learn by interacting with God.

Why You Will Need a Priest (if You’re Lucky)

by Michael Jennings

In the early 70’s I went to a hippie funeral for a fallen fellow hippie. It may still be going on. We wouldn’t hear of anything organized or structured – we’d just gather and, you know, follow our hearts. And we did, wearing our most somber flowing shirts and cleanest jeans.

It was horrible. First we all stood on the dirt in a circle and held hands. Then someone started singing “Will the Circle Be Unbroken”. That’s a sweet song, right? Until we got to: “I told the undertaker, please drive slow. For this body you are haulin' Lord, I hate to see her go". So that petered out quickly. Then came the personal remembrances, consisting of three people trying to speak at once, interrupted by long silences. Then some dreadful improvised free-form “Goodbye” song that finally, finally ended. Followed by the obligatory ghastly potluck (short on luck).

My wife’s mother died. It is not the first time we lost a parent – actually it was the last. But my initial reaction was the same: we needed a Grownup to show up and take care of this. Then the sinking realization: I’m the Grownup? Pathetic. We needed to make Arrangements. Who do we tell? How do we dispose of the body? I felt like a character in a Sarah Glover Mystery. Where the hell was that Grownup?

I called our church. Sally, the parish administrator, picked up on the first ring. Moments later, Fr. Don, one of our associate priests, was on the line, getting info. Elaine was at her mother’s side when she died. Our two girls showed up immediately, and all three sat in a room with a dead body. Now what? Here’s what: the priest arrived, gathered them at the bedside, and offered prayers. Prayers that said: this has happened, it’s final, it’s terrible, we’re still here, please help us. We went home, cried a little, and ate spaghetti.

Next came daily phone calls. How are you feeling? What do you need? We are praying for you. And my favorite from Fr. Don: “I’d be happy to go to the funeral home with you – those bastards are sharks, and I know how to handle ‘em.” (I paraphrase.)

We met with Fr. Tommy, our parish rector – Sally took notes. After we mumbled about what we thought we wanted, he smiled sweetly and said, “We can do anything you want. But let me tell you what you want.” And then he did.

You want a Eucharist, you know why? It allows Pearl to join us. Noon is a good start time. Yes, the photo of her will look nice there. Shall we configure the altar and seating thus? This psalm reminds me of your family. How about these hymns? Sally will print the program (and Deacon David will come downtown and pick up the photo). Sure, a meal following would be lovely, set the tables Friday if you want. By all means, serve wine. Now let’s pray you out of here; you have my cell number.

The overwhelming, formless task was now finite, scheduled, codified. We went home and ate spaghetti.

On Saturday our people showed up. Lifelong friends, family, surprises from the past, a few whose last names we’re uncertain of. They came to share our burden. And it worked. Elaine sang, and the sorrow in her voice grew into an aching blessing, a farewell, a thank you. Clergy, six strong, choreographed as tight as the Pips, dressed the altar. Fr. Don directed his homily right to us, addressing us repeatedly by name. The girls offered tender remembrances of a doting grandmother, and Elaine spoke from her heart to her mother’s. We took communion at the altar, and then sat down and took it again: Pearl’s pot roast, mashed potatoes, and ambrosia. We sat for a long time, eating banana cream pie out of jars like baby food.

Our ceremony was not an exorcism of sadness, and may do little to ease the lifelong sorrow we will feel at her loss. But dwelling so attentively on the ritual of a loving, shared farewell has helped us hold her absence as a part of the great turning of the wheel. In a palpable sense it answered our prayer: this has happened, it’s final, it’s terrible, we’re still here - please help us.

Emerging and Missional Church Seminars at St. Aidan's

All are invited to come to two seminars at St Aidan's led by Ian Mobsby, from the Church of England, on new ways of being Church in the 21st Century.

AIDS QUILT MEMORIES: Recalling Tom Tell And Ron Washburn, With Sister Butch, Peat, And Queeni

By Patrick Hall

The return of the AIDS Quilt for Advent brought back many memories of those members of St. Aidan’s, and friends of St. Aidan’s, who died of AIDS.

Many of them were VERY involved in our parish, serving on the Vestry, including Kenneth Buckley, Ron Washburn, Peter Hayn who later became ordained, Fr. Jim Markunas, etc. But this remembrance is about Tom and Ron.

In the late 70’s, Rev. Lin Knight asked me to be the Bishop’s Representative to The Parsonage, which was the first official presence of the Episcopal Diocese in the gay and lesbian community. The Parsonage was established by Bishop Swing, at the urging of two gay priests, Bernard Mayes and John Williams. It was located in a small rental home behind Herth Realty, at 555A Castro Street. Soon after I started attending Board meetings there, I met Ron and Tom.

At about the same time, HIV was discovered and AIDS became a death sentence throughout the gay community (and among our St. Aidan’s community).

Ron and Tom were very active in publicizing the AIDS epidemic, as well as quelling rumors regarding its transmittal. When the Episcopal National Convention was held in Anaheim, Ron and Tom enlisted a group from the leadership of the Parsonage to travel there to raise awareness of AIDS within the Episcopal community. They would gather the latest articles and statistics about AIDS, and then each morning Marilyn and I, and Ron and Tom, and Bill Lorton and others, would hand out “The Daily AIDS Update” to the conventioneers as they entered the convention center each morning. Marilyn would especially target those with a purple shirt. Ron and Tom also began handing out small swatches of rainbow ribbons, with straight pins, so you could pin it on your shirt or blouse, to show your support of those with HIV/AIDS.

Finally, Ron and Tom became HIV positive themselves. During their illness, they continued to be active in AIDS awareness, helping to establish the first World AIDS Day, and attending, as I recall, the first three World AIDS Conferences. Ron succumbed first to the disease, and a few months later, Tom.

Before they died, Marilyn and I had planned a trip to Italy, and included Assisi on our itinerary, intending to go for the day. Tom and Ron said, “If you are going to Assisi, you really must stay overnight.” We did, and it was a magical, spiritual night to be in the quiet realm of St. Francis after all of the tour buses have taken the masses back to Rome.

If you look at the medium size panel in the middle of the bottom of our Quilt panel, you will see “The Bickersons” [Bill Lorton’s nickname for them] “Ron Washburn, Tom Tull, Sister Butch and Queenie (their two cats) and Peat” [their dog]. We miss them all.”

ANOTHER NEW YEAR: Starting Anew

by Judith Lavender Dancer

The new year feels refreshing and a starting over again that we repeat often, not just every year, but there are events and times in our lives that point to a refreshment, a starting over that can be restorative and helpful in modern times of busyness and loosing connection to the Sacred.

I love a good soak and a scrub in the New Year, cleaning off the dead skin and allowing the natural glow to become restored. The scrubbing also awakens part of me that may have forgotten that it feels good to be touched and cared for. One year, Kabuki Hot Tubs was the answer, with hot Japanese noodle soup afterward. Yum.

One year, we gathered up all the rocks we had collected over the years, living just 3 blocks from Ocean Beach at the time, and went down to the beach to release them back into the environment they came from. When we got there, someone or ones had made a reclining 8-10 foot woman out of sand, so we delicately laid the rocks all over her body. The surf came up to her, lapping away at the rocks and carrying them back to sea.

When we are back into our lives, Chinese (or Lunar) New Year sneaks in with a roar of a dragon and special food and celebrations inhabit our fair city. I especially like the red envelopes the elders used to give me with a dollar or two inside, good luck for the new year. My colleague is Chinese and he has two young children, so now I get to give the envelopes to them, which I bought today in Chinatown. The cycle continues...

I was baptized 7 years ago this Easter, so the Lenten journey always feels as if it is a gathering of

energy and intention into such a special time in the church year, the death and resurrection of Christ. The poignancy and weight of Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter Day are rejuvenating and so sacred. Yes, another form of new year, rebirth and a recommitment to being Christian in the 21st century.

Spring, Summer and then in the Fall we have the Jewish New Year. I am a September baby, so I feel very connected to the timing of this event for my sisters and brothers, my birth starting a new year, plus respecting and noticing the rituals of others. My birthday has always been important to me and I celebrate it with relish (not the pickled kind, Jack!).

Advent—the start of the liturgical year—has become a magical time for me as I explore the imagery, the story and the symbols of light and dark. I cherished this time and felt a refreshment I have never felt in this season before this year, moving away from the party and shopping frenzy and deepening into the understanding of its sacred meaning.

I know other cultures and religions have their New Years but these are the ones that have affected me. What I notice is I am able to start again in so many ways throughout the calendar year and it gives me an opportunity to rejuvenate (we say re- judith-ate at our house), take stock and begin again. My energy does not need to get stuck (although being stuck might be what I need sometimes, too) but I can be on the journey of newness and deepening into a new understanding of myself and how I can contribute to the world.

What are your New Year points and how do you celebrate and open into the journey of this sacred life? Let’s continue this celebration and opening together.

Gospel According To Pop

Pastor Megan's Christmas present to the Community of Traveler community is a series of videosongs that narrate the life of Jesus using contemporary pop songs.

Check out this project: The Gospel According to Pop

Megan hopes to finish the project by January of 2012. Leave your comments below if you have ideas about what songs you think would help narrate the Jesus story in a way that will cause others to think or hear the gospel differently.

Baby Shower for Baby Jesus - December 4 at 5 PM

Bishop Marc Visits COT November 6 for Confirmation, Beatles Mass, and Liturgical Potluck

Occupy St Aidan's by Pastor Megan Rohrer

As protests brew across the world, yesterday they raged in 900 cities, I've wondered if I should join the protests. You'd think it would be an easy choice, since I work with the chronically homeless and have dedicated my ministry to working with those living in poverty.

I love the idea of the people who have always been the majority taking back their voice and holding those in political power accountable.

I've done a lot of studying of nonviolence theory, so I'm proud when people find nonviolent ways to bring attention to important issues.

But, something about the protests have been unsettling to me. While I cheer on those street retreating and creating mass conversations in the streets, I can't help but remember that my mother is a banker and has been all her life.

In fact, she worked at the same bank since she was 18 and just retired a few months ago. As a working mother, she struggled to keep daily bread on our table. She managed the tellers at several branches of a South Dakota bank that went national. The reality is that our family was not the 1%.

As I see the images of the protests in front of banks I remember that my mothers desk and those on the lowest rungs of the banks payrolls are the ones sitting in earshot of the protests.

I also remember that the effectiveness of the civil rights protests and sit-ins came from their ability to dramaticize the injustices that existed, to force private terror to be publicly scrutinized or to clog the wheels of unjust laws by filling the jails so no one else could get arrested.

I wonder if the protests are dramatizing a solution? I also notice that we are in a precocious time when the world is listening to the protectors, but no individual voices have emerged as the leaders of a more benevolent future.

So I suggest, that we call for a shift in the countries moral compass. When we bring a mass of people to a location we give it power. But is Wall Street where we want our change to come from?


I call us to put our butts where our mouths are. Let's fill the spaces we want the world to see as the moral compass of our communities. And in those spaces, let's demand that those leaders speak for us and get voice in the halls of congress and at the CEO meetings where the 1% can actually be found.

What if the churches, Temples, zen centers and other places we wanted our ethical center to come from were as full as the streets?

This is our moment. Let us give to Wall Street what is Wall Street's. Keep your upside down wealth systems. Let us be people bringing a new understanding of love, hope and prosperity to the world.

So join me in occupying St Aidan's. Lets fill the pews and the offering plates and reset our compasses. Whose with me?

Finding God in a Bar Around a Piano after Katrina

by The Rev Tommy Dillon

Two weeks after Hurricane Katrina hit, I drove from Baton Rouge to New Orleans to experience firsthand the devastation of a place that I love dearly. I thought I had prepared myself for what I would see, but, indeed, I had not.

Approaching the city, I saw coffins that had floated out of the large above ground cement mausoleums and found a new resting place alongside the interstate. I wept. Not only had the living been affected by the flood waters, but also the dead.

Going further, I witnessed the large gaping hole in the roof of the Superdome and instantly returned to the images of the thousands who took refuge in this shelter of last resort-turned prison. Large blue tarps covered many homes and served as temporary roofs, a thin blue layer between fragile people and the wild nature that had so recently turned against them.

I parked my car in the normally bustling French Quarter, though this time, it was a ghost town. Peeking into Pat O’Brien’s famous bar, which usually hosts raucous dueling pianos, I was struck this time by the emptiness and hollow silence in its stead. The windy breezes stirred up alternating wisps of rotting food and mold. Fresh graffiti screamed anger towards President Bush, FEMA, and Governor Blanco. When I encountered people in the streets (which was rare), they were lifeless and listless: walking zombies who had their life sucked out of them.

There seemed to be so much despair, sadness, and loss of hope. Where was the light that shines in the darkness? Where was God in all of this mess?

In the many years before Katrina, I travelled to New Orleans on Sunday afternoons to gather with friends at the corner of St. Ann and Bourbon Street for what is known in the gay community as “Sunday Tea Dance”. This was sacred ground for me, a ground zero of sorts from which I “came out” as a gay man. Through the years, I had danced many nights away at the Tea Dance, laughing, singing, sharing stories, meeting new people, sometimes drinking too much and having a little too much fun. But the Tea Dance was where people knew to gather on Sunday afternoon.

My favorite stop at the Tea Dance was the Good Friend’s Bar, where a gentleman named Tom played an old piano on the second floor of the bar that sounded as if it came from a old western movie saloon. Tom was in his late sixties and gathered an eclectic group of people--gay, straight, men, women--around that old, out of key piano for a weekly sing along. We enjoyed singing show tunes, but sometimes when I would arrive, Tom would play a Gospel Set of well known Southern hymns and ballads. People would sing loudly. Many of them loved the church, but they no longer attended because they had either been either kicked out or left due to its stand on their “gay lifestyle”.

As I walked around a desolated New Orleans that fall afternoon, I wondered if any of my kindred were gathering at that sacred corner where we had spent so many Sundays at the Tea Dance. I turned onto Bourbon Street and glanced down at the section of the French Quarter where my father used to warn me, “Do not go down there son, it is where the homosexuals gather.” To my joy and delight, I saw life! In the distance, I heard the thumps of the deejay as I made out the gay anthem “We are Family” in my head. A few steps closer. Over 100 people were standing around the Bourbon Pub/Parade Disco, which reopened that day, peace and happiness swept over me. The community indeed knew where to gather that afternoon, even in the midst of desolation and despair.

A giant blue tarp covered the roof of the Good Friend’s Bar...surely, the second floor was flooded in the deluge, I supposed. But then, in the distance, I noticed the faint sound of singing. Could it be? Was Tom there? Were the faithful gathered around the piano? Drawing closer and closer to Good Friend’s, the singing was louder and louder. I walked into group of 30 people who were indeed standing around the piano, having picked it up and carried it downstairs so that they could sing.

Tom looked up, saw me, and yelled, “PADRE, YOU ARE HERE” and he began to play Gospel music and people assembled sang out from their hearts! First was “I Come to the Garden Alone”, and then a stirring rendition of “His Eye is on the Sparrow”. The voices grew louder and heartier. People raised the rafters in joy and celebration as tears filled our eyes. For the wayward souls assembled that day, even in the midst of destruction and despair, this was Church! We were not in a building consecrated by a bishop. The space was not filled with stained glass and statues. Instead, we were a church formed from the presence of the people and our piano became our altar, a place of sacrifice where we could offer to God our tears, our joys, our prayers, and our hopes. The piano became a sign and symbol of God’s redemption and love in our midst.

Bishop's Visitation November 6 at 5 PM

Bring your favorite breakfast food for the potluck!

Pentecost with Gaga Mass

Tonight, at Community of Travelers, was a double win - we played a version of the game Chubby Bunny and we sang portions of the Gaga Mass. How in the world did such a fun service come to be? I'm glad you asked, dear reader.

Today is the holy day of Pentecost, which is when the holy spirit descends onto the disciples of Jesus. As you might imagine, people gathered from far and wide to celebrate. The miracle that happened that day is everyone could actually understand each other- even though they all spoke in a different language. Pastor Megan pointed out that, had the miracle been in what was being said, they would have written in down (they didn't). So, the miracle was in the listening and the unifying spirit that was with them.

Tonight, to symbolize that, we split up into pairs and put as many marshmallows in our mouth as we could and talked to our partner about God. If you didn't play it as a kid, this is really similar to the children's game Chubby Bunny- although the original version doesn't have God in it. The idea in today's service was that the marshmallows symbolized tongues, and so we could speak a language for each marshmallow in our mouth. I admit, the most marshmallows I could fit was 3 (they were the big kind). Really, though, if you've ever played Chubby Bunny you know that speaking with your mouth full of marshmallows doesn't really enable clear enunciation. But I tell you- the laughter in the church today filled the hall. We were all still communicating, just with gestures and facial expressions. We had a ton of fun! By the end, I believe we felt unified and celebratory- just a taste of what the folks back then would have been feeling.



The Gaga Mass music helped with that as well. Although we still need to practice a bit, we had an absolute ball with Telephone and Bad Romance. By the end of the service, we were just rocking out, laughing, and hugging.

"Housing = Safety"

By Connie Thomas

Tonight at Community of Travelers, we heard about a protest Pastor Megan helped organize around homeless LGBT youth. While it was pouring rain and bitter cold on Saturday night, a group of dedicated homeless teens and their allies hung out in Harvey Milk Plaza in the Castro and then slept on the sidewalks.

It might sound naive, but I never really think about homeless kids by themselves. I usually imagine homeless families that could rely on each other for safety and support, or homeless adults by themselves. If I did think about homeless kids, I'd assume their parents kicked them out for doing very bad things. Unfortunately, that's not necessarily the case. Sometimes kids are just kicked out of their homes because they're gay. Sometimes they run away from abuse. Regardless of how it happens, it means we have innocent kids out on the streets of San Francisco that have precious few options in their life.

I was lucky enough to meet some of those kids, and I tell you- it breaks your heart to hear a 16 year old talk about finding food on the street and eating it, because that's all he's got. It's also incredibly inspiring to hear these same kids who don't have a guaranteed place to sleep at night laugh and sing and dance with each other. Most striking of all, though, was that I would never have guessed that they were homeless. They laugh and dress and talk just like every other kid I've met. They were just as clean/fashionably dirty as most teens I see, too. Honestly, though, you just never know what a person's life is like until you walk a mile in their shoes.

Tonight's gospel was about Jesus as a Gate. Usually, we talk about Jesus as the shepherd, telling us where to go. In the gospel we read tonight, though, Jesus calls himself The Gate. It changes the dynamic. Sheep don't have a choice- they have to follow the shepherd. We do have a choice. We can choose to open that gate and walk through it to the other side. And, most likely, we will have to choose over and over again throughout our lives whether or not we want to go through the gate. We can choose to put Jesus's teachings into practice, by turning the other cheek, by giving a rowdy and dirty kid the benefit of the doubt. The good news is, though, the gate will always open for us if we turn the knob.

From the PostSecret Blog This Week:

http://www.postsecret.com/

Field Trip to Safeway

"What? This is a joke, right?" But, Pastor Megan was not joking. Tonight, at Community of Travelers, we were going to walk to the Safeway across the street and hand out palm leaves for Palm Sunday. Safeway. A place where I regularly shop for groceries. A place where non-church people were.

The concept was this: we would explore what it may have been like for Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem (which was today's gospel). To be honest, I always pictured his ride on Palm Sunday to be one of triumph. I thought he was welcomed by huge crowds, cheering, singing, and waving. I also thought his followers proudly stood by his side (except at the crucifixion, when they backed away). I didn't really consider these folks to have the same human fears and concerns that I have.


So, we headed out into the cold San Francisco fog with a collection of palm leaves and a cross, and we walked across the street to the Safeway. The big turning point was when we got to the entrance. I assumed that we would stand near the door and offer a palm leaf to anybody that approached. Instead, we walked through the entryway and wondered throughout the store. A place where, I expected, we wouldn't be very welcomed.

In that same way, Jesus rode into town through a gold entryway reserved for royalty. I'm sure there were folks who were upset he had the gall to do that. Although he had followers that greeted him, there were a bunch of people who didn't like him, and they wouldn't have been very happy to see him show up. There were also probably a bunch of people on the streets of Jerusalem who were going about their normal routine- shopping, working, etc- who were interrupted when this guy rode through the street.

With that in mind, it's likely that he encountered some of the same stuff we did. Some people looked at us and wondered what we were doing. Some people frowned at us- we were bothering their normal Sunday shopping routine, or maybe they didn't like us flaunting our beliefs. Some people thought it was neat and gladly accepted palm leaves. Some just ignored us or stayed away.


As a follower in the group, I had a mix of emotions. What if the manager (an authority figure) came over and was angry? Who would stand up to him or soothe him? I hoped that Pastor Megan had a plan and had thought long and hard about what we were doing. What if people around us got upset? Who would calm the crowd?

It makes me wonder about the followers of Jesus. Surely my concern about the authority figures isn't unique, except the punishment back then would have probably been physical harm rather than just being asked to leave a store. Did that stop people from following Jesus? Or did they believe so strongly that they overcame their fear? There were a few in our group who didn't want to be seen by somebody they knew. Jesus's followers were human, too- I bet there were a few who worried about being judged by their peers if they were seen. Some in the group were excited to be sharing Palm Sunday with folks at the store. Something tells me there were a bunch in Jesus's group that fell into this category.

This was Pastor Tommy's last CoT service before his sabbatical. We'll miss you, Tommy!

Easter Vigil April 23 at 7:30 pm

The Community of Travelers will celebrate Easter with the Great Easter Vigil on April 23 at 7:30 pm at St Aidan's- There will be NO service the afternoon of April 24.

"Unloose Him"

By Connie Thomas

Tonight's Community of Travelers service focused on the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. We sang the Sarah Mclachlan version:



If you're unfamiliar (like I most certainly was), here are the words:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much
seek to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive.
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

What a simple, yet perfect and beautiful prayer. We were each given the opportunity to write this prayer, or the most meaningful parts of this prayer for us, on a strip of cloth. It may look short, but let me tell you- when you're trying to write this with a pen on cloth, it takes way longer than you think it will. I went into the activity thinking that every word was precious, so of course I would write every word. But, by the end, I had written a shorthand version of the prayer that an outsider may think is just a stream of unrelated words after each other.

The coolest part was we then tied the cloth to a part of ourselves, and had others in the community untie them. The idea is that, in tonight's gospel, Jesus says "unloose him" when he asks his followers to untie a man Jesus had just risen from the dead. Yeah, you heard that right- risen from the dead. It was a crazy story. Anyways, my favorite part was that, apparently, the verb "unloose" in Greek is the same for having your sins forgiven. So, we were given the opportunity to be "unloosed" by our fellow church family members. Or, we could choose to untie ourselves. I preferred the symbolism of asking somebody else for help. Now that the activity is over, I kind of wish I had written the prayer in a prettier way so I could hang it up in my apartment...



It's also worth mentioning that Beamer was back with us again tonight. We missed you, Beamer!

Can You Do That In Church?

By Connie Thomas

Tonight at Community of Travelers, we had a new voice- Pastor Gary led the service. He is a retired Episcopal minister who has been working to further deepen his faith since his retirement.

The gospel tonight was about the man that was blind and Jesus gave sight. We explored the gospel in a brand new way, though- we read the passage 3 times from 3 different translations. Between each reading, we discussed what we each picked up from the passage and what we thought about it. It was pretty neat- the idea is for us to personally explore the gospel, rather than have somebody tell us what to think about it. What I loved most about it was, for the most part, each person naturally focused on a different aspect of the story. It helped me open my mind to the perspective of others in the room.

What totally threw me off tonight was when Pastor Gary offered up a Buddhist prayer during the service.

*record screech*

What? Isn't that, like, against the rules? I was taken aback until I remembered that the whole point of Community of Travelers is to not have rules. Of course, there are basic traditions we must follow, otherwise it's not really a church service. Aside from that, though, anything goes- we welcome different viewpoints and ways to think about things. So, Pastor Gary took his experience of exploring his faith, and brought it into our hearts. It was both intense and wonderful. It was a good reminder of the gifts that being open to new experiences can bring.