Here is a Palm Sunday sermon from one year ago, spoken just as we were beginning this pandemic. I love the concept of Kairos and think of it often. In the midst of the last year we’ve lived, alongside the grief, pain, disruption, and shared trauma, have we also had moments where goodness seemed to find us too? — moments that revealed what is most deeply true and valued in our lives? I hope these moments can continue to guide us into the months and years ahead.
This is a sermon I prepared for Northside Presbyterian Church in Ann Arbor this morning on Matthew 21:1-11. The video above is from Facebook Live. If you have any challenges accessing the video in this post, feel free to go here.
Matthew 21:1-11
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, “The Lord needs them.” And he will send them immediately.’ This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying,
‘Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’
Image Description: A photo of Taylor Murray, smiling. She’s wearing a blue shirt and glasses.
I’m grateful to invite Taylor Murray to be guest blogger on Smuggling Grace. Taylor’s poetry is so invitational!
Saturdays
Saturdays, because they are the middle of the week, are for world building which entails world noticing.
what shall we put on the ark to save? what will we morph, transform, meld? what will we bury with miles of ocean?
Saturday is for possibilities, small risks
it is for questions, lots of questions, and no answers what could this be? if given more love, more attention?
saturday is for turning your head upside down. laying in the grass as the sun rises. sniffing most things it is for pausing and also humming in cacophony it is for albums you’ve never listened to before and going down dead end roads no outlet?…maybe for someone else, but you know how to shapeshift!
oh, and obviously Saturday is for turning into a triangle. it is the most stable shape it is a time for sitting and pondering, what is the question? if the answer is 42…. it is for mapping and charting the moon’s journey, surfing the sky it is also for rest and closed eyes, and pin drops and for crying, and processing, and laughing and processing
it is for digging up old things and revisiting, returning hanging them up on the wall then reconsidering the practice of hanging things on the wall
it is for hurling yourself out of the rut, so you can see the sun again it is also for cold showers and breathing deeply through discomfort it is for documentary watching and joining facebook groups of zine lovers
it is for calling people out of the blue just to say, hey, if i was in an ocean’s 11 situation, I just want you to know, I’d have you in my squad it is for writing letters to your grandparents and doing book self portraits
it is for recording bird sounds Inverting the colors of your phone Calling your phone a hand rock It is for juicing something or frying somethingIt is for learning Morse code And then using it to communicate with the raccoons in your neighborhood
Bestowing names to the plants you walk past And moving around your furniture Wearing socks inside out And having a staring competition with the void
Learning how to juggle and how to make an igloo Figuring out that the stage is probably the safest place to scream For making art with your shadow And for pickling your curiosity
It is for pruning the garden of your mind For tasting refusal in your mouth and learning to savor it Walking with your eyes closed and your back front
It is for taking what you know to be true and then unknowing it dis-knowing it make the familiar, strange and weird
That is what Saturdays are for. Oh wait, did I say Saturday? Well, of course, by that I meant Every day.
Taylor is a student at the University of Michigan, currently taking a semester off from her computer science studies. She is the co-founder and president of Tech for Social Good a student org creating critical conversations about technology and society. She is also a self-described renaissance woman and currently is learning Korean, thinking about communal grieving, and combatting grind culture. You can reach her at murratay@umich.edu.
It was a tremendous procession. Shouts of praise erupted from every direction and Muti-colored layers of clothing splattered the ground — Can you imagine? Two miles of stretched out garments. Palm branches waved through the air and Children ran alongside the gathered crowd— Can you imagine? He is coming.
He enters the scene, his arrival greeted by the arrival of a community, all in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.
It was a political procession. Shouts of “Hosanna!” erupted from every direction and Multi-layered hopes greeted every step upon the ground — Can you imagine? “Save us!” they cried. A colt descends from the Mount of Olives and The crowd sets its sites on Jerusalem — Can you imagine? “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”
He enters the scene, his arrival initiating an alternative Kingdom, all in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.
It was an ironic procession. Shouts of declaration erupted from every direction and Multi-faceted claims of authority rose from the ground of their being — Can you imagine? Here is our King. His gaze takes in the city as his destination and Those in power wait to capture and crucify — Can you imagine? This King will die.
He will enter another scene, his arrival greeted by a cross after abuse, torture, shame, and loss, after this frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.
And where are we? Do we dare join this procession? Knowing that it leads to heartache? Knowing that it leads to death
And where is he? Does he invite into this procession still? Knowing that it leads us to the heart of God? Knowing that death does not have the last word?
We follow him once more, knowing that the things worth dying for are the very things worth living for Love Peace Justice Wholeness
the things worth dying for are the very things worth living for
Love Peace Justice Wholeness
Living, yes, Living, yes! Living in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.
Image Description: Tealight candles are it and lined up next to each other in an s-curve pattern.
I know a pastor who often says a particular phrase when he prays in worship:
“Help us to be a part of the very prayers we make.”
It’s a phrase I have taken on as well when I lead prayers. Prayer can mean many different things and take on many different forms. I suspect if we pray, most of us pray in many different formats, and we likely infuse that process with many forms of meaning.
But certainly, praying should call us to action.
We need to be a part of the very prayers we make.
So if you pray, what do you pray for these days? Or if you would use a different word than prayer, what do you hope for? Or long for? What need is grabbing your attention in this world, your community, your family?
Whatever it is, how might we take an action to be present to that very need? Or to address that very need?
How might this be important especially for neighbors who are so often out of view? – Those in prison, – Those going hungry, – Those experiencing homelessness, – Those in the throes of addiction, – Those who are immigrants, – Those who live in fear in the shadows, – Those who are sick without healthcare, – Those who are stigmatized because of mental illness, – Those who have lost jobs, – Those who are foreclosing on their houses, – Those who have received a challenging diagnosis, – Those who are harassed or bullied. . .
Image Description: Tree roots criss-cross visibly near a still body of water.
There is more water than we can see.
When we think of water, we think of what comes through pipes and taps. And we think about the bodies of water we’ve seen — streams, creeks, ponds, lakes, rivers, and oceans. But a whole lot of water exists underground and outside of our view. There’s a whole lot of water traveling through intricate root systems, allowing trees to share resources of nutrients together.
There are also more resources than we can see.
In a time like this, we can expand our recognition that we all have particular needs, and we all have unique skills and resources we can provide. As we continue to move through this pandemic and as we ponder a life beyond it, we can turn both of these toward one another.
Over the last year, I saw people give money to complete strangers online. I saw people call the governor in my state fervently to demand that water shutoffs end in Detroit and other areas of the state. (If you are quarantined without water, how do you sustain yourself? How do you wash your hands and faces?) I saw mutual aid networks pop up all over the country to support service workers whose places of employment were sometimes closed. I saw houses of worship delivering groceries and medications to their neighbors.
We all have particular needs. We all have unique skills and resources we can provide.
We can put these more in view. We can turn both toward one another.
Image Description: A green pen is on top of a yellow sheet of paper. The paper is a list written in green ink, and parts are crossed off.
Yesterday, I was defeated by a to-do list. It still remains, technically unwritten; but piece by piece, and point by point, it chiseled itself into my brain.
Do this, then – Do that, then – Achieve this, then – Accomplish that.
It hammers. It sculpts. It hardens and solidifies. Pristine and chiseled, it presents itself complete and paramount.
And it does all of this. . . For The Goal. (Or at least, that’s what I’m led to believe).
Instead, this to-do list, this master carpenter, becomes a goal in and of itself.
If I’m not careful, my thriving will diminish, my playing will diminish, my living will diminish, while my toiling, my striving, and my working, grow, extend, increase, accumulate.
Forget the real goals! The living, The playing, The thriving! Suddenly, these are less than a host of check marks, Suddenly, these have less value than solid lines marked through words.
Suddenly, DO and DONE become more than LIVE and LIVED.
Well, today, I turn a corner. I will not cross LIFE off some oppressive list. Peace and pleasure will permeate my work, and no lines will run through BREATHE LOVE ENJOY and SAVOR.
Yesterday, I was defeated by a to-do list. Today, the goal shifts.
Happy Spring! Here are some photos I’ve captured on my recent nature walks. I look forward to watching everything blossom and grow, bit by bit. Here are days of blue skies, trees, plants…
Image description: There is an orange-brown background, and toward the right side of the image, there is a circle of symbols of people made from paper. They are holding hands in the circle, and a light is shining in the middle of the circle.
Sometimes, we have a zero-sum mindset about rest, care, and personal growth.
We feel anxious or guilty about prioritizing rest, care, and personal growth because somewhere deep down inside us, we believe… if we choose to prioritize these for ourselves… deliberately receiving from others, setting up daily rhythms of personal care practices, or engaging extended periods of intentional, internal work… we believe… we are somehow taking from others.
Some of us have also been socialized to view care in these ways.
I’m not talking about falling off the grid entirely (though by all means, it’s helpful to do this temporarily here and there). I just want to make a claim that rest, care, and personal growth are not necessarily selfish, which is something we can easily fear or feel guilty about. This zero-sum mindset easily creeps in amidst parenting, pastoring, organizing, and caregiving.
We, ourselves, are intrinsically worth rest, care, and personal growth. We matter.
But also, when we keep our connections with others in mind, this is not a zero-sum situation — our rest, care, and personal growth is always embedded in relationships. It is always for the benefit of the community. We are refreshed and energized. We bring our fuller selves to our relationships, roles, and work. And when our rest, care, and personal growth stay in contact and connection with others, we pay attention to the systemic forces which make it much more challenging for some to experience those extended times of rest, care, and personal growth. Our care becomes more intentional here, and respecting people’s agency, we practice care outwardly, prioritizing others also. We take care of each other. We cultivate care spaces in mutuality together.
I wonder why we think these are divided from one another — personal healing and receiving versus community care work. As if we can only do one or the other.
After all, who’s to say they aren’t absolutely connected?
Smuggling Grace 