Tag Archives: ritual

On Rituals and Faith…

24 Wednesday Sep 2025

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Photo credit: https://www.istockphoto.com/photos/hand-popcorn-bowl

I grew up in a time where watching TV meant sitting down with my family at a TV at a scheduled time of a show (though eventually with the ability to record a show and watch it later).  The experience is somewhat foreign to my and my family’s patterns now, with so many on-demand options and individual devices, not to mention increased prices at movie theaters. 

That’s why I’ve been especially grateful this summer and fall with some “old school” experiences with my kids.  My older child and I started watching a show several years ago that released its final season this summer.  However, unlike shows who release seasons in bulk, this one released the episodes one at a time.  We found ourselves dissecting each episode, wondering what would happen next week, making “dates” to sit down together and watch.  Meanwhile, our local movie theater is re-airing a movie series in the theaters – one movie each week for eight weeks.  The movies are based on books my younger child and I have read, and we’ve been able to have our own set of dates, recalling favorite moments, making connections she hadn’t noticed before now that she’s read most of the books.  It’s been a delightful source of joy for both of us.

Having these experiences has made me think a lot about rituals – not just the content of my time with my kids, but the ritual of setting aside time, joining in something that brings us pleasure, making space for conversation and reflection.  Reflecting on these last weeks has made me ever more appreciative of the rituals we find in church.  Some are obvious, like attending weekly worship.  But others are less obvious, like how it feels to receive communion weekly, talking about what we learned that day through Sunday School or a sermon, or even the beauty of a post-church nap every week.  The ritual of being connect to a church community creates the environment for us to develop a relationship with God too.  I have no way of knowing if my children will be church attenders in their adult lives, but by giving them the experience of the ritual, they at least have some place to start in adulthood for making their own way to God.

I wonder what rituals need tending in your life this week.  Where are you feeling disconnected and disjointed, and how might finding your way back to those rituals feed your life and your journey with Jesus?  Or, if you are not so sure about that relationship with God, how might trying out some of the rituals with church open up some doors to which you didn’t know you had access.  I look forward to hearing about your what tending you want to try this week!

On Taking Church Outside…

01 Wednesday Mar 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.cincinnati.com/story/news/2023/02/21/ash-wednesday-2023-why-do-people-wear-ashes-everything-to-know-lent/69927477007/

Once upon a time, I was pretty critical of the concept of “Ashes to Go.”  I worried that by encouraging people to get quick ashes, they would miss the fullness of the liturgy, cheapening the power and importance of what we do on Ash Wednesday.  How could a three minute interaction hold the same power as an hour-long ritual?

This year, I am grateful once again that someone convinced me years ago to try Ashes to Go anyway.  As our church is located in a more suburban area, we do a drive-through ashes experience.  The reasons people stop vary widely.  For some, they do not like to drive at night, so a daytime option fits their schedule.  For others, they have young children and a school night is just too hard to rally for the family.  For others, the reasons are not totally clear, but stories are shared:  about how times are hard for their families, how they haven’t been to church in five years, how they heard about it in the neighborhood and wanted to check it out.  And for others, words fail them, but you see in their eyes how powerful the brief, intimate moment with the sacred means a tremendous amount.

If there are times I wonder if we really need to offer Ashes to Go, every year reminds me of the absolute necessity of meeting people where they are.  In fact, I have been wondering if there are not other ways we can step out of the church walls and meet people where they are.  Surely if something as grim as reminding people they are dust can compel people to drive by for ashes, there must be other ways we can take “liturgy” to the streets.  Ever since the pandemic happened and our parish embraced livestreaming, I have become increasingly aware of the church’s ability to reach people differently – to minister to and offer sacred encounters in all sorts of ways.

As we journey deeper into Lent this year, I invite you to consider where else in your life you can take church with you.  Maybe you can slow down just a bit and listen to the stories of those around you.  Maybe you can reach out to someone who is hurting today.  Or maybe you can share a bit of your own story and how your journey with God is making a difference.  I look forward to hearing how God is showing up outside the church walls this week!

On the Sacred and Bus Stops…

08 Wednesday Sep 2021

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Photo credit: https://www.longislandpress.com/2019/12/13/school-bus-stop-arm-cameras-coming-soon-to-long-island/

For years now, I have walked my children to the school bus stop.  It has been precious time – holding hands, talking about expectations and hopes for the day, noticing nature’s wonders, playing games while we wait.  We have goodbye rituals too:  the four instructions they get everyday (have fun, be kind, learn lots, and do your best), waving and making heart signs from the bus, waiting until the bus pulls away.  They are rituals that are often taken for granted as the day’s to-do list creeps into one’s mind.  But when one pays attention, one realizes these are sacred rituals.

As you can imagine, the transition to the new rituals of Middle School has been a bit rough.  I am still allowed to drive my child to the bus stop, but definitely not allowed to get out of the car.  We still talk about hopes and expectations, except when a friend finally shows up and becomes the priority.  We are in that journey to adulthood where my child’s primary influences are changing from me to her peers:  and this is good and holy too. 

And so, I am creating new practices for myself.  When my child leaves the safe space of the car and boards the bus with twenty other kids, I have been surprised to find myself praying.  Praying for my own child, certainly:  that she will be safe from this pandemic, that she will cultivate friendships that are life-giving, that she will be inspired by the gift of learning.  But as I watch the other children board the bus, I find myself praying for them too:  for the ways in which Middle School can be so brutal, for the struggles at home they may be experiencing, for the pressures they face as they define their identity.  I even pray for the bus driver, and the ways in which he is the guardian of our children, even if only for a couple of hours a day.

I imagine there are opportunities for expanding prayer for all of us in everyday life.  Where have you found yourself worryingly praying for a loved one?  Who in their immediate field can you pray for too:  their coworkers, teammates, doctors and nurses?  Who are the shepherds who need your prayers too:  their bosses, coaches, ministers?  This week, in your prayers, I invite you to let your prayers expand – fan out a little further than the immediate concern on your heart.  Observe how your fanning prayers expand something inside of you too:  a larger worldview, a bit more compassion, a lot more empathy.  Then, maybe add an action:  send a note to someone, make a phone call, send a text.  I would love to hear how your expanding prayers and actions help expand your experiences with the sacred.

Sermon – Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23, P17, YB, August 29, 2021

08 Wednesday Sep 2021

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My mom and stepdad have been longtime members of what many of us would call a megachurch – a very large United Methodist Church in Alabama. Having worshiped with them many times, the church truly is “mega”:  multiple services of varying styles, a professional band, a TV production company, a large youth center, an indoor playground, a coffee shop, a gym with fitness classes, and a big campus.  But the thing that impresses me most about their church is their clear sense of identity.  When my family started attending regularly, two people came to visit them in their home, and they had a very frank conversation about expectations for membership.  At that meeting my mom and her husband were asked to commit to at least one ministry each, were asked about what kind of education they wanted to join, and they were asked to tithe – to make a commitment to give 10% of their earnings to the church, as is the Biblical tradition. 

I remember when my mom told me this story having a visceral reaction:  that would have felt WAY to “pressure-y” for most Episcopalians.  But as time has passed, I have come to admire their church’s clarity.  The Episcopal Church does a poor job of defining membership.  Our commitment to professing “All are welcome!” seems to translate into no defining characteristics of membership.  In fact, as a priest, one of the questions I dread the most is “How do I join your church?”  That should be a very easy question, and yet when I talk to new members, the answer has to be two-fold:  the technical answer (as long as you attend three services a year and are a financial contributor, you’re considered a member – the answer from the wider Episcopal Church which I loathe!), and the more practical answer we have crafted here at Hickory Neck:  you fill out a form, you commit to supporting the church financially, you commit to feeding yourself (through study, prayer, regular worship), and you commit to feeding others (through giving your time to the church and to the wider community on behalf of the church). 

Our gospel lesson today seems to be wading through a similar debate.  The Pharisees and scribes are totally perplexed by how some of Jesus’ disciples are not washing their hands before eating – a totally valid concern in these days of COVID!  But handwashing was not just about hygiene.  The ritual washing of hands was about identity, or “membership” as we understand it today.  The Jews of this time are in an “oppressed minority, living in an occupied land.”  Their question is asked with the backdrop of colonialism, cultural and religious diversity, and competing claims on identity.[i]    Their question is both simple and complex:  why aren’t the disciples living like members of our community? 

For many a reader of this text, all sorts of erroneous conclusions have been drawn – primarily the antisemitic understanding that the laws of the Jews are superseded by laws of Jesus.[ii]  But that is not what is happening in this text.  Jesus does not have any issue with ritual cleansing:  he of all people understands the consequences of following God.  But Jesus is saying something more nuanced about identity and membership.  Jesus is saying that no matter how we traditionally mark ourselves as “other,” even if something is “the way we’ve always done it,” what is more important is how we live our faith.  So, if we are doing all the right things:  washing our hands the right way, bowing at all the right times, crossing ourselves when we’re supposed to, saying “Amen” during the sermon – or avoiding saying “Amen” during the sermon – none of that matters if our insides are defiled.  As Jesus quotes from Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”[iii] 

Today’s invitation is to ponder what membership in this body of faith means.  Are we honoring Jesus with our lips, but our hearts are far from Jesus?  Are we following the external “rules” but fostering evil intentions in our heart?  Our work this week is making sure that when we go out into the world to love and serve the Lord, we love and serve the Lord in ways that show people Christ through our words and actions; that when we wash our hands, we do not wash them simply to keep ourselves safe, but to keep our neighbors safe; and that when we talk about how much we love this church on the hill, we do so in a way that does not show mask our individual struggles with avarice, deceit, slander, pride, and folly.  Telling the world you are a proud member of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is just fine; but our invitation is to be clear with others that, as that old tune says, “He’s still working on me,” is also a part of membership in the body of Christ.  Amen. 

[i] Debie Thomas, “True Religion,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2944 on August 27, 2201.

[ii] Idea suggested by Matt Skinner on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#799: 14th Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 22B) – Aug. 29, 2021,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/799-14th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-22b-aug-29-2021 on August 25, 2021.

[iii] Mark 7.6b.

On Keeping Rituals Anyway…

17 Wednesday Feb 2021

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Photo credit: https://www.cincinnati.com/story/news/2019/03/06/ash-wednesday-2019-wearing-ashes-marks-beginning-lent/3064920002/

Today is Ash Wednesday.  It is the day we gather to kick off the beginning of Lent.  The main marker of this day are the ashes rubbed on our foreheads in the shape of a cross.  This ritual action is so powerful that churches typically offer multiple services in their buildings and they hang out in train stations, street corners, or parking lots so that people can grab their ashes on the go. 

But this year Ash Wednesday is happening in a surreal setting.  Reminding us we are dust and to dust we shall return seems a little superfluous when death is all around us from this pandemic.  Beginning a season of fasting seems like overkill when we have been doing nothing but fasting for eleven months – fasting from a way of life we once knew.  Asking us to give us something for Lent seems tone deaf when we have been giving up things for almost a year.  And with large communities having lost power for several days, churches still on lock down, and best practices prohibiting us from actually touching ashes to others’ foreheads, the whole idea of this day seems like too much.

So why are we even bothering with Ash Wednesday this year?  A couple of reasons.  One of the base reasons is we need to keep the rituals of life to help us feel some semblance of normalcy – some reminder of the things that have been meaning-giving in our lives.  Two, we need reminders that God is present in the midst of all this mayhem.  Some of us have never felt God’s absence, some of us have felt the abandonment of God in this time, and some of us have just felt so depleted that God feels distant – not absent, but also not vividly present. 

I don’t know how you are holding up this Ash Wednesday.  I don’t know where you are on your journey with God these days.  But what I do know is that the church is here to walk with you, comfort you, and create space for wherever you are on the journey – whether driving through,  watching online, or catching up by email, phone, or text.  We are in this together.    

On Rituals, Church, and Candy…

05 Thursday Nov 2020

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Photo Credit: https://www.hauntedwisconsin.com/things-to-do/kids-family/trick-or-treat/

Last weekend, I took my younger daughter trick-or-treating.  We spent a long time as parents debating whether we should take our children.  We read scientific articles, talked to other parents, and spent time in long conversations.  Ultimately, we decided to go ahead, making sure we donned our masks, only traveled as a family, and sanitized our hands frequently between houses.  We also talked to our child about how although she may want to greet friends with warm hugs, that night was a night for verbal greetings instead of physical.  Our child did not argue with the restrictions and was simply happy to be going at all.

We embarked at the designated time not knowing what to expect – whether other families with children would be out safely, whether homeowners would respect social distancing and mask wearing, or whether the entire evening would need to be abandoned.  Much to my surprise, the evening went better than I could have hoped.  The number of trick-or-treaters was cut in half, and people mostly respected safe distancing.  Homes distributing candy were also at about fifty percent, and many of those who distributed exhibited tons of creativity:  from baskets of candy lowered from outdoor balconies, to candy “kabobs” planted in yards, to zipline delivery mechanisms, to clotheslines of candy. Many homeowners bagged candy to reduce touching and many seemed to have read the best practices about how to hand out candy.  I was blown away by our neighbors’ thoughtfulness, creativity, and grace.

But what struck me the most was a truth emerging from the whole evening.  If you had asked me or any of my neighbors before Halloween why we were participating in the ritual of trick-or-treating, we probably all would have said we were doing it for the kids:  to give them some sort of normalcy in this crazy, abnormal time.  But as I tucked my child in that night, and thought about all our experiences, I realized a deeper truth.  I think all of us adults participated in the ritual not just because the children needed it; we participated because we needed it.  We needed just one thing to be semi-normal in this super stressful, topsy-turvy world.  And we took our precautions and stretched our creativity, but we participated in a ritual that reminded us of joy, innocence, and community.

In many ways, that is what we are trying to do every week in churches too.  The very essence of Church is incarnational – from how we gather (in large groups), how we worship (using our all our senses, including touch), how we participate in ritual (often kneeling shoulder to shoulder, receiving communion from common dishes, and laying on of hands), to how we interact (from children’s programming and play to Coffee Hours).  With this pandemic, our incarnational essence just is not possible in the same way.  And so, we are worshiping online, we are offering socially distant worship services, and we are gathering on Zoom for pretty much everything – from formation, to fellowship, to learning, and even play.  I know Church right now is not the same, but if Halloween offers any lessons, perhaps it is that participating in the ritual – even an amended and altered ritual – is important for our spiritual, emotional, and physical health.  If you have taken a break from the ritual of Church because it just is not the same (and you are right, it is not), please know that Hickory Neck is here to help you reclaim some of that ritual.  It may be awkward or push your technological abilities.  But I promise, even those unusual connections might just offer the ritual you need to stay healthy and whole!

On Thanksgiving and Imperfection…

04 Wednesday Dec 2019

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The last two weeks have been marked with rituals of thanksgiving:  a community ecumenical Thanksgiving service at the local Roman Catholic Church, Holy Eucharist on Thanksgiving Day at Hickory Neck, dinner and visiting with my dad, and, today, offering the benediction at the 400th anniversary of the first official English Thanksgiving in North America.  The rituals have all been tremendous blessings and ways to center and ground life in gratitude, a practice that can sometimes fall to the wayside in the busyness of life.

However, what has struck me about this season of gratitude is how imperfect it has been.  Often when we think of Thanksgiving Day, we immediately picture Norman Rockwell’s famous painting of the perfect meal.  But as I checked in with people and as I watched those around me, I realized nothing about this season of thanksgiving has been perfect.  I had parishioners who just welcomed a baby a few days before Thanksgiving Day and had resigned themselves to having Chinese so that no one would have to cook or stress about taking the newborn out.  I heard stories of family drama over the menu for the day.  My own family was coming off a few hospitalizations so resigned ourselves to dinner out – which then got foiled by a two-hour wait, with a wait staff that looked like they wanted to be home with their own families.  The music and collaboration of clergy was beautiful last week, but we hold in tension our denominational differences.  Even the anniversary celebration today is consciously honoring the ways in which the histories of American Indians, African-Americans, and English-Americans bring a shadow over our celebration.

As I have been pondering this imperfection, this disconnect between our ideal of perfected thanksgiving rituals and the reality of the messiness of life, I have actually found deep spiritual comfort.  Nothing about our lives is perfect.  We are all sinners, trying to be better versions of ourselves.  Even our offering of thanksgiving is imperfect.  But the love of God is perfect.  God sees our messiness and loves us anyway.  God sees the ways we hurt each other, the ways we argue, the ways we are rude or unkind, the ways that we cannot always honor our rituals, and God loves us anyway.  In fact, I sometimes wonder if God doesn’t prefer our imperfection, for in confessing our imperfection, we are fully honest, fully vulnerable, and fully trusting of God.  We bring our real selves to God, and it is there that we give the most heartfelt thanksgiving.  We feel, know, and experience God most powerfully in those moments of imperfection.

This week, I invite you to continue your practice of gratitude with God and one another.  In our thanksgiving, we are not just thanking one another for appearance’s sake, but we are thanking one another in fullness, in love, and in generosity.  Use this week to find people to thank – for the big things and the very tiny things.  My guess is we may all start working toward the perfection of God’s love with each act of thanksgiving.

On Liturgy, Love, and the Lord…

19 Wednesday Jun 2019

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Photo credit:  Hickory Neck Episcopal Church; reuse with permission only.

This past Sunday we celebrated an “Instructed Eucharist,” a worship service in the Episcopal Church narrated to explain how and why we do the things we do in Church.  Though Instructed Eucharists are pretty common in the Episcopal Church, I had never led one myself, and I found I was pretty nervous about how it would go.  I worried the narrative pieces would feel too long and people would start to lose attention.  I worried the worship would feel too disjointed by narration to feel like worship.  I worried the teaching portion would not be particularly meaningful for those gathered.

As in most things, my worries were unfounded.  Many of those gathered shared that the narrative did not make the service too long.  In fact, they were surprised at how seamlessly the narrative flowed, and how engaging the experience was.  Several of those gathered were touched by the parts that are always touching – scripture, music, preaching, the peace, communion, and the dismissal.  And many of those gathered, of all ages, and of all spiritual backgrounds, shared not only did they love the service, but they also learned many new things.

What caught my attention about the feedback was not simply that people liked the experience.  What caught my attention about the feedback was people were excited about worship.  Having learned something about the weekly ritual of worship allowed our worship to shift from the physical (the habits of bowing, kneeling, standing, singing, eating, greeting) to the mental (understanding the theology, history, and spirituality of our worship) to the spiritual (the opening of our bodies and minds creating deeper connection with God).  That kind of excitement is at the heart of what drew most Episcopalians to the Episcopal Church – a ritual that somehow spoke to something deep inside them, and of which they wanted more.  Sometimes that longing could be easily described, but sometimes that longing was too mysterious to capture in words.

If you had that experience this past Sunday, or if you have ever been touched by that mysterious sense of God in the worship within the Episcopal Church, I invite you to share that sense of wonder with someone today.  You may share the first moment you stepped into an Episcopal Church, or a lifetime of practice, or a simple Instructed Eucharist.  Share the wonder and beauty with someone else, and invite them into the same experience that has enlivened your spiritual journey.  And if you have never had that experience in a church before, know you are welcome to join us at Hickory Neck – a place where you can weekly come and participate – whether physically, mentally, or spiritually – in something bigger than yourself, but in something that makes you feel more grounded in yourself – something that allows you to find God within, already there waiting for you, affirmed in the community around you.  You are welcome here.

On Baseball, Community, and Church…

12 Wednesday Jul 2017

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baseball kids

Photo credit:  newprovidencepal.org/baseball/

This summer we have had the joy of supporting both a friend’s and a parishioner’s little league baseball teams.  Not having boys myself, it has been a long time since I watched a little league game.  In fact, after the first game we saw, I shared with my husband that I could not imagine giving up so much family time for one member’s extracurricular interest.  He understood my hesitation, but invited me to look around.  You see, with all those mornings, afternoons, and evenings at the baseball field; with the ritual of packing chairs, canopies, and ice chests; and with the repeated gathering of parents and siblings, slowly, slowly a community is formed.  Parents learn about each other’s lives, siblings convert boredom into adventures, and guests are quickly made to feel welcome with a shared chair, beverage, or joke.

What those teams, especially travelling teams, have done is create a community.  They have created a group of people who know each other’s stories, who share wins and losses together, and who slowly learn to talk more than just baseball – but life!  They have created a community where kids do not just have one set of parents – they have a whole community of moms, dads, and siblings.  They have created a community that revolves around ritual, memory-making, and maybe even meaning-making.  In many ways, those teams have created something similar to what Church creates.  Church too creates a multigenerational community – where every elder is a grandma, and every adult can parent children.  Church too creates a community where wins and losses are shared together, where stories are known, and companionship is created.  Church too revolves around ritual, memory-making, and meaning-making.

Church creates community, but uses that creation for a different purpose.  The community of Church nurtures, forms, offers comfort, and creates community, but almost as a side-benefit to the main work we do.  Our purpose is to shape disciples for sharing and living the Good News of God in Christ.  So, while we are loved and supported in the community, we are loved and supported so that we can go out into the world to love and support others.  While we share stories, wins, and loses, we also go out to listen to others’ stories, naming where we see God acting in their lives.  While we participate in ritual, making memories and meaning, that same ritual sends us out to love and serve the Lord in the world.  We may come for the community Church creates.  But we stay because that community demands we be much more.

Today I am grateful for our many communities.  In fact, I think we all need more than just Church communities to keep us grounded in the world God created.  But if you haven’t been to church in a while, I invite you to give it a try.  You may find even more than you were looking for!