Clothed in New Garments

April 13, 2009
Monday in Easter Week,
Church of the Holy Family
Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Pray with me.
Let these words be to your glory. Amen.

I am preaching from the baptismal font and the Tenth Station…
Time is different today. The air is different.
I feel like I can take a fuller breath. Soak in God’s created order.
The colors are a bit brighter.
The tastes are a bit sweeter.

For six Fridays in a row, it did not feel like a deeper breath, a richer hue, or a taste that I might seek again and again. I told time in a mournful and lamenting way. For many of those Fridays, I gathered here and prepared for Christ’s death.

The other night, Lent culminated for me in the Garden of Gethsemane, holding Vigil with the sacrament while we watched over our Lord between Maundy Thursday and the service on Good Friday. I was thinking how difficult it is to plan for an Easter sermon in the midst of lament, sorrow and death. It pulls the soul in two directions, but such is the way God would have us be pulled. Remembering sorrows and never forgetting, yet always living Resurrection.

At the tenth station, Jesus was stripped of the clothes that he wore: from Stations.
And they divided his garments among them by casting lots. This was to fulfill the scripture which says, “They divided my garments among them; they cast lots for my clothing.” (from The Way of the Cross).

He was humiliated. Made naked.
If I were preaching naked, you would all be embarrassed for me—for my inability to know better. Adam and Eve, they knew to cover themselves, but not Jesus.

No, he comes naked before us to fulfill the righteousness that he promised since the beginning of time.

It’s not shameful that he was made to strip. Nope, it is one more beautiful irony dramatized by the very God whom we call Jesus on his way through the Cross, into the tomb, resurrected yesterday, and ascended to the right hand of God.

How you say? What’s ironic about the humiliation of our Lord being stripped of his garments?

The irony is that when we baptize new believers, they come naked, pure—for a moment free from sin, as they die to their old way of life and are born all new in Christ Jesus.

I love it. I’ll never walk over this stone the same way again. I’ll never forget that Jesus’ humiliation is my redemption. Jesus’ uncloaking is my very salvation. He washes me daily in the blood of his cross and at the tenth station he took off the rag which would become the very bathing cloth which scrubs each and every one of us.

You are washed and I am washed by the blood of a Lamb who loves us so much that no human words will ever do this love justice.

We know it in baptism, and we know in it these words:
To fulfill all righteousness, Jesus is subjected to the humiliation of nakedness. His tormentors cannot know, however, that in removing his earthly clothes, they are preparing him for his glorification, his heavenly triumph, and an everlasting exaltation (from Meditations on the Stations of the Cross, Belmont Abbey College, Dr. Ron Thomas).

Today we are clothed in a white robe and cuddled by the Shepherd who will always come and find us. Today we are far from lost, we are found, naked and proud to be found and worthy of a white robe. It has gold lace and it is made of a linen so fine, it is on the one hand see-through, and on the other so thick and warm, it might have a thread count of a million. Can you feel it, can you smell it, can you soak in its hue, yet only for a moment because the light is so dazzling white as to blind you? I’m risking blindness, today and all of my days. Amen.

Shoe Review--Saucony Xodus

Last week I wear tested the Saucony ProGrid™ Xodus for Bull City Running Company. Jason Page (owner of Bull City Running Company) and I both wear a Men's 10.5 so we are going to be able to give some good feedback by trading back and forth some shoes. This is a neutral trail runner. When I first pulled it out of the box, I thought, This is a pretty stiff Vibram sole. This might be more than I want in a trail runner now that I have gotten accostomed to more flexible low-profile shoes.

But I was pleasantly surprised by the performance of the Xodus on a very diverse six mile loop run near Mason Farm and the Botanical Garden in Chapel Hill that included roads, crossing a calf-deep stream, technical single track trails, and lots of steep up and down hills.

The neutral shoe felt fine on the roads which is not true of many high performance trail runners. It's not too aggressive on the lug patterns because that will sometimes make a trail shoe pretty awkward for road running. I wouldn't run more than five miles in the Xodus on roads, but for short distances it works well.

It drained well after getting soaked. I didn't even think of the stream crossing after a few minutes.

The Xodus performed well laterally on the trails, providing both stability and flexibility. Even with what looks like a fairly built up sole and mid-sole, I felt surprisingly low to the ground and very secure in the heel cup. This is an absolute necessity for a technical trail shoe.

It was light enough to not feel clunky on the climbs and the ARCH-LOCK really helped to hold my foot in place on the downhills.

The toe box on the Xodus could be a little bit bigger and those with really wide fore-foots may need another shoe. But I tend to like a lot of room in the front of a shoe, and I found this one to provide just enough room.

I liked this shoe so much that I am going to seriously consider the Saucony Progrid Echelon as a road trainer because it also has the ARCH-LOCK and appears to be a similar last.

Saadiq

I've written about this cat before, but he continues to inspire me. Raphael Saadiq is a true artist with a wide range of influences that culminate in a hearkening back to Motown and the smooth vocals of Eddie Kendriks, The Temptations lead tenor during their prime (1965-71). Each performed track is a little different than when I have heard it the previous time, and distinctly different from the cut versions on the album, "The Way I See It." The Q and A at the end of this performance for Google is particularly telling of this man's gifts and vision for music and art.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5g73nsIDfk

Particularly useful during the season of Lent, where the Church prepares to both mourn and celebrate simultaneously, was a line to introduce one of this artist's best songs of the performance. Saadiq introduces "Big Easy" at the 20:00 mark and says of this upbeat testimony to Hurricane Katrina victims, that the thing about folks in New Orleans is that when they mourn, they celebrate. Say what you will about New Orleans and Bourbon street, but we culturally begin Lent there with Fat Tuesday/Mardi Gras/Shrove Tuesday. It is a feast before a fast to mimic Jesus' fast in the desert to prepare for his death and celebration. Listen to this song and ask God, "Tell me what's goin' wrong?" But, don't leave it there, after naming what's wrong in the world, ask God, "What's comin' that's alright!" Lent is not solely about Lament, but a call to "Get Ready," as Eddie Kendricks wailed about 40 years ago.

Umstead Marathon Race Report (3/7/09)

In the weeks leading up to the Umstead Marathon, I was doubtful. I second guessed my health, my interest in running a marathon, my egos ability to withstand another poor marathon effort. As I was bemoaning my track record with marathons, my wife reminded me that my last marathon was the Black Mountain Marathon in 2006 where I finished 4th in 3:32. That marked a very good run on a very mountainous course. My memory was more negative, forgetting the good and reliving the bad, October 2005, Chicago Marathon where my hopes were so set on breaking three hours on a fast road course. Instead I dropped out at mile 19, defeated and broken in body and spirit, happy only to see the faces of my wife and newborn Kathryn who was then only three months old, and made the trip with mom and dad.

Where I have failed to some extent at road marathons, I have faired better on trails. My first successful day running a trail marathon was 1999 in Breckenridge, Colorado. High above 10,000 feet I ran what was called a marathon, the Crest Mountain Marathon (24.5 miles) in 4 hrs 15 minutes. I remember a banjo player at about 18 miles into the race who plukced for the runners with what to me was a hearkening back to Appalachia. I felt at home in the Rockies and scampered down the mountain, near Peak 7 of the 10 mile range that connects Breckenridge to Frisco, Colorado (where I met Sallie the wonder dog). That was a great day, yet I was slow to be fully converted. Still, the heart of trail runner who could do with less and less road running and racing was beginning to beat louder and slower. The following years brought squandered efforts on the roads when it came time to race the marathon. Someday, I’ll realize those dreams, or maybe not.

The day of Umstead arrived and pain had gone away from my legs in the week before. I was prioritizing a Lenten fast over the marathon, no question that it is more important, but I suspended my fasting routine on the Saturday morning of the race. If I was going to run 26 miles, I did need to eat breakfast and take more than water throughout the race.

It felt like summer by the time of the 9am start. Everyone seemed to wonder why we were starting so late, but it is still officially wintertime and even in Carolina it could have just as easily been below freezing. I ran early on the Wednesday morning before, and the weather channel announced that it was 12 degrees Fahrenheit. Water was nowhere to be found on MLK Parkway, even the bog like creek near Durham Public Works and Kroger could have doubled as an ice skating rink. Seventy six hours later at the start of a marathon and it must have already been in the mid 60s on the way to the high 70s. The temperature was just another reason to go out very conservatively with my friends Quincey and Ronnie. The other reason for a patient strategy was the undulations that would come in the middle and late miles of this tour of Umstead State Park. The three of us chatted away the early miles which was kind of fun. I never do this. I subdue my normally extroverted self in races. I am always running at a pace where talking is the last thing I would want to do. Conversation really did pass the time. It probably annoyed other runners around us, but their choice to run nearby. The three of us were probably around 15th place after three miles of running. We were way behind the leader and he looked strong at a turnaround at two miles. We passed some runners on the single track and the three of us were working well together.

I didn't really pick it up until I saw 3rd and 4th place on the way up from Corkscrew Hill (mile 9-10) and one of them pulled me along to a couple of 6:30 miles. He got in a hurry when he heard me coming and we put in a substantial surge from the roughly 7:15 pace we had been running. Ronnie and Quincey were not going with me as I picked it up and I was thinking I needed to go ahead and start picking off a few runners if I wanted a chance at seeing the guys in first and second place later in the race. I pulled away from Ben from Florida about mile 13 and later passed the 2nd place runner at about mile 21 after two great cheering encounters with my friends Tweak and Knocker and their kids. I even got some high fives from at least two of the little ones when I passed by the first time at about mile 12. This really gave me a boost.

All through the really nasty hills on the backside of the park I was feeling really good (miles 11-20), but as the third hour of running commenced there was no escaping the heat. At every aid station I would drink Gatorade and or water. I would dump water over my head and face, but it was just hot, hot, hot. My legs were slowly starting to cramp. I tried to really stretch my legs out going down toward the lake and the bottom of Corkscrew Hill, because I knew that hill was going to take a toll on my pacing. I kept it going up Corkscrew, counting five miles to go, four miles to go. As I approached the 22 mile aid station there was George IV on the right with a cup of Gatorade. He had mastered the hand off of liquids as well as any adult volunteer. I tried not to cry, either from fatigue or the sheer joy of having my son hand me a drink that I so desperately needed. Kathryn and William were in the stroller to the left, smiling and cheering. I knew I had to keep moving, or the temptation to stop and embrace my loved ones would be too much. I walked while I drank and then I got moving, down Wheel Fell Off Hill. This is an appropriate name. The race leader looked like his wheels were falling off and he was totally dominating the field, probably ten minutes ahead of me at that point. We passed each other on his way back up the hill and when he did not utter a “good job” or “keep going” I knew it was because this hill left no opportunity for extra expenditures of oxygen.

Coming back up Wheel Fell Off Hill on Cedar Ridge (mile 22-23) I was in a death march, but it was still running. Ben from Florida was not more than a couple of minutes behind and moving faster than me, I was certain. I had 2.5 miles to get to the finish line. Would I come second or third? Doubt and worry was creeping in. Oh, how I wanted to stop, but the fastest way to stop the pain was to get to the finish line sooner rather than later. I took two walk breaks up the inclines in mile 24 and 25. Each time was disciplined to a count of 50 and then back to running. It felt like the fastest way to get to the finish, but I knew third place was on his way.

Managed to hold it together and not cry at mile 25 when the wheels really were coming off and Ben from Florida was getting closer in my rearview mirror, and there at the top of the hill were Kristen, George IV, Kathryn, and William cheering their brains out for dad. George rode his bike alongside me for almost half of mile 26 and it was, without question, the only thing that kept me from no more walk breaks and a second place finish.

I managed to sneak in for second place (3:13) and not totally blow up in the heat. It was a well executed race plan.

I sent out an abbreviated version of this race report and here are the names of friends who added their specific congratulations in the couple of days after. One of the best parts about running is that we share the stories with one another and amazingly even some non-runners seem to want to know about these stories.

The entire REI staff, Hyjak, Ram, Mike Broome, Flame, Zap, Tweety, Bobcat, Willow, Freeq, Spinz, Gumbi, XXX, Pinto, Tweak, Knocker, Weez, Zbow, Wayne Crews, Squonk, Balto, Wort, Syren, Meredith Leight, Grynz, Flush, Raven, Zu, Paul Potorti, Proulx, Haggis.

Doesn’t this list make you want a trail name? Come out and run with us—www.trailheads.org.

Monk, aka George

Fly by Night

Image at: mortesubita.org/.../fly-by-night-rush/view

Who remembers “Fly by Night” by RUSH? Have a listen and read along with the lyrics below. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xs07hbaKvug

A month or so ago I was doing a quick meander through Carolina North and I saw two deer and an owl. My fears and anxieties were set at full throttle at the sight of the owl flying away from me, leading me down the trail, soaring off into the distance. I turned the iPod off as I waited for what was a sure and stealth descent on my head. The descent did not come. The owl let me go this time. I let the fear go and savored the recognition that the forest is in control when I enter. Got to thinking about the Philosopher's Way Trail Run which will happen on May 2, 2009 on some of the same trails. Our heavy stomping will probably keep deer and owls hidden, but we might get lucky and get attacked.

I like the fourth stanza of this song in particular:
Start a new chapter
Find what Im after
Its changing every day
The change of a season
Is enough of a reason
To want to get away
Each run is a new chapter of life; a chance to get away. Seasons are changing right about now. Daylight savings time is Saturday and the twilight will push further and further out on the clock. Spring will be official March 21, by the calendar, but I think in North Carolina we can start on the 5th day of the Month.

Register soon for Philosopher's Way at: http://www.trailheads.org/pwtr/index.htm

Lyrics:
Why try? I know why
The feeling inside me says its time I was gone
Clear head, new life ahead
Its time I was king now, not just one more pawn

Fly by night, away from here
Change my life again
Fly by night goodbye my dear
My ship isnt coming and I just cant pretend

Moon rise, thoughtful eyes
Staring back at me from the window beside
No fright or hindsight
Leaving behind that empty feeling inside

Start a new chapter
Find what Im after
Its changing every day
The change of a season
Is enough of a reason
To want to get away

Quiet and pensive
My thoughts apprehensive
The hours drift away
Leaving my homeland
Playing a lone hand
My life begins today

A plea to 44 and me

Some said your inaugural words were condescending
I say prophetic
Your words were a call to service
A call to take responsibility
Critics said there was no memorable line,
like
Ask not what your country...
or
We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.
But you encapsulated both JFK and FDR when you charged me to fight poverty
I heard you charge me to educate the poor

Who are the poor?

In my world
they are children
they are boys of color
and while everyone around me wonders when will I arrive
When will George take a Church of his own?
Why?
So I can give up teaching and learning from the least of these,
adolescent boys who the world says are more likely to obsess over Wiis and Weapons?
No, they are going to school by God and they are learning on my watch
And I'm learning from them
Soaking up all they have to teach me

Will all your political goals be achieved?
Probably not. But we can do some things—end this war and feed the poor. Yes We Can. That's a start and if it is all we do, I'd be proud of these eight years.

Will the world ever be set to rights?
Setting the world to rights is the sole role of the Chosen One and you’re not Him.
But you are both a prophet and a leader. In you I see a rare combo of a King and a Judge. Stay faithful to both of these gifts. Don't cynically become one at the expense of the other.

Stay radical. That does not mean simply stay on the Left, no, stay radical. Remain prophetic, inspire us, lead us, plea that each one of us takes action and does our part.

There’s a knock at the door of humanity right now and it feels like midnight is the hour
or even later
maybe 4am
the darkest hour
but it is always darkest before the light
As the martyr said, we shall overcome because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.

The arc of light is bending toward and even breaking on the shores of the horizon
Towards a time when things will be better
Where the poor will have rights and food and care
Where war will be no more

And for those who said there was no line for our memories, try,
With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come.

Valley Forge was a dark time, darker even than now, and they got back in the boat. They crossed over. That line reminds me of the sea that's Red. We face fears. We get back in the boat or we cross with walls of water on both sides.

Thank you Mr. President.
Written by Rev. George E. Linney, III on January 21, 2009, a day after a watershed moment in our history, the inauguration of Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States of America.

I got to thinking about Easter this morning. It's cold, and I have a cold, and Lent is almost here, but there in front of me was the loud scream of yellow Easter lilies announcing that He is Risen. He is Risen, Indeed.

Did you know that He delights in you? The things that you are doing whether you know him or not, are all part of his plan for you and His plan for the world. I take comfort in moments when there is seemingly no comfort.

He delights in you. Embrace that Good News today.