forget, for a few seconds, that the MTV show, Jersey Shore, ever existed. Forget Snookie, J-Wow, the Situation and any other stereotype that this show has put in your head. For just a few minutes, I want you to wipe the slate clean so that I might paint a different picture.

One of the things I miss the most about being in New Jersey is the shore. I didn’t live on the shore, but I grew up there. That’s where I spent time with my dad: fishing and crabbing and getting stuck in sand bars. I got seasick all the time and usually would prefer playing Atari, but that didn’t make the time any less special. I grew up, learning from my dad how to appreciate life, take care of what was given to me and how to sacrifice what I wanted for family time. He showed me how to love,respect and fear something at the same time.  I grew up on the shore.

I saw my first real sunrise on the shore. I have to confess that I belong to a group of people in the world who believe that a sunrise doesn’t count unless you stayed up all night to watch it. I was fourteen years old and after a night of hyperactivity, the anxious buzz that dominated my insecure life was stilled. I sat on the beach of Ocean Grove with my best friends and was overwhelmed by eternity unfolding before us.  I grew up on the shore.

The shore is a guaranteed way to make anything better. Prom weekend always involved a trip to the shore because that was guaranteed to make the weekend epic. Guaranteed, 100% you can bet the farm. Want to make a date special? Add a trip to the shore to walk along a boardwalk or a beach. Kissing along the shore always tasted better. Every woman that I’ve loved…I’ve kissed on the shore. I grew up on the Jersey shore.

New Jersey can be a tough place to live. The cost of living is high and salaries are low. There are practically no stay-at-home mom’s because no one can live off a single income. Houses are on top of each other, traffic sucks and everyone knows that the state government is corrupt. Schools are hit or miss, the state university system is far below national standards and EVERYONE struggles, but EVERYONE can get to the shore. Look to your left or right and it’s beaches all the way.  Look ahead and it’s rolling waves forever. There are no oil rigs in the distance, but if you’re lucky you might see dolphins or boats or airplanes dragging long banners across the sky.  No matter what happened, I could escape to the shore. I grew up on the shore.

Sometimes people wonder why the Shore matters to those of us native to New Jersey. As usual, “the Boss” speaks for all of us native New Jerseyans:

The shore was the place where everything was all right. Everyone should have a place like that.

2: What if they went to a king to find a lamb?

1: What if they passed the shepherds along the way?

2: What if they looked up to a star when God was giggling below?

All: What if we were like them?

1: What if Epiphany is a divine do-over,

2: a holy mulligan,

1: for those who are regarded wise

2: and for those who miss Christ along the journey?

All: What if we find the Christ child today?

A prayer for the 10^th anniversary of September 11^th, led by four voices

1: In the blink of an eye, a mangled torrent of steel, jet fuel and earth ended hundreds of lives.  Our nation opened its eyes once again to tragedy.  And we wept.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer.

2:  In the blink of an hour, thousands more would die.  People who showed up for work at a desk.  People who showed up for work, on a plane.  People who showed up for work on the back of a firetruck, never to return home.  They made one last phone call, said one last prayer and their eyes were closed.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

3:  In the blink of a day, tens of thousands flocked to scarred remains of earth, broken shards of buildings.  Churches opened their doors, restaurants opened their tables, donors opened their veins and their wallets.  The world opened its heart.  Humanity’s best reflected light in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.  Covered in ash…covered in shock…covered in grief, we were all the same…and the world opened its eyes to hope.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

4:  In the blink of a year, we were at war—twice.  Revenge tangled with justice…confusion tangled good will…hatred tangled hope.  In some ways, we offered peace.  In some ways, we became like those who had hurt us.  We saw the world with blinders that follow injustice.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

2:  In the blink of ten years, we have adjusted to a new normal.  On September 10^th, 2001 ,we had more wealth, more confidence, more naiveté, more innocence, more friends.  We had far fewer scars.  But scars, too, are signs of hope—reminders of healing–that life goes on, that the  arc of the time bends towards recovery.  Scars in our memories, in our land and in our skyline remind us that injury and death do not have the last word unless we give it to them.  Scar tissue is resilient, tough and hopeful.  We see the world with renewed hope.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

1:  And so we confess

2:  That we have not loved our enemies

3:  That we have not prayed for them

4:  That we have, at times, become like them

2:  That we have bombed their children instead of feeding them

3:  That our instinct to hate and hurt were in us before we were attacked

All: Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

1:  And so we celebrate

3:  That there is light in valley

2:  That we were able to participate in that light

4:  That the nations of this world struggle towards freedom

2:  That you were not silent on 9/11 and you have not been silent since

3:  That we have begun to heal

All: Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

1:  And so, wide-eyed, we look

4:  For a world of hope

2:  For a world of peace

3:  For a world of faith

2:  For a world of love

4:  In the long gaze of God.

All:  Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

A PRAYER in REMEMBRANCE of 9/11

With light, in three voices

Preparation

Set up a table or altar with 100 lit candles (tea lights are easy) and 1 Christ candle in the middle (bigger than the rest).

Arrange for 3 readers.  Position them around the room.

Arrange one acolyte to extinguish candles in the appropriate places.  You will want to line up an additional few acolytes for the last section.

Prayer

<extinguish six candles>

1:

On September 11^th, 2001, 2,626 people died while they began their day at work in buildings so tall they scraped the sky. 125 died in the Pentagon—the only military personnel to die that day.  246 died aboard airplanes that no longer lived in the sky.  Nearly 3,000 lives were lost in a matter of hours. 

2:  For all those who suddenly lost their life.

3:  For all those whose prayers rose up and were suddenly silenced

2:  For those who made one last phone call goodbye

3:  For those who did not have time for that last call or who never got through

1:  For the innocence lost that day

3:  For images that are burned permanently in our minds

2:  For the questions that rise out of the ashes

3:  For all who mourned and continue to mourn.

3:  Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

<extinguish six candles>

2: Since September 11^th, 2001, 5,000 American soldiers have died in Iraq and at least 1,700 American soldiers have died in Afghanistan.

1: For the family members of those who have lost their lives

2: For those families that wait with constant fear of bad news

3:  For those families who live with constant anticipation of any news

1:  For those who watch  their friends die

2:  For those who are willing to die for their passion

3:  For those who carry the weight of death

1:  For those who live in fear and distrust, never knowing which un-uniformed civilian intends them harm

2:  For those who live in the shadow of death

2:Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

<extinguish six candles>

3:  Since September 11^th, 2001, roughly 16,000 Afghani civilians have died. 

<begin rapidly, but reverently extinguishing candles until only the Christ candle and a few others are lit>

3:  Since September 11^th, 2001 countless Iraqi civilians have died at the hands of insurgents and coalition forces.  Conservative estimates place the death toll in the neighborhood of 60,000.  An estimate put together by researchers from Johns Hopkins, Cornell and an Iraqi University place the actual death toll well above 100,000.

There will be no websites with memorials to every victim, nor will there be plaques on walls.  For most will remain nameless in the eyes of the world—only known by the other members of their village as a father, mother, son, daughter, co-worker, friend.

1:  For those who have lost a loved one in sudden death.

2:  For those who have died with no relationship to the cause of violence

3:  For those who have given their lives to a cause they did not want

2:  For those who want the cause but not the cost

1:  For those who held a loved one in their arms

3:  For those who struggle with guilt following the death of the innocent

1:  For all the soldiers who have offered mercy

3:  For the soldiers who have not offered mercy

2:  For all those who have begged for their life

3:  For those who are in harm’s way but do not know it

<begin lighting candles again>

2:  For the church who struggles to find its prophetic voice in the midst of a changing world. 

3:  For Christians, who struggle with questions of conscience and loyalties between religion, ideology and patriotism

1:  For Muslims and Jews who struggle with questions of conscience and loyalties between religion, ideology and patriotism

Lord in Your Mercy

Hear our Prayer

3:  For the leaders of our world

1: For the terrorists in this world

2: For our bishops and the leaders of other churches

3:  for the pope

1:  for President Obama

2:  for Foreign Prime Ministers, Presidents and Dictators

3: for Ban Ki-Moon and the United Nations

2: for the soul of Osama Bin Laden

3: may he rest in peace

1:  For wisdom

3: for peace

2:  For discernment

1: for peace

3:  for restraint

2: for peace

1:  For justice

3: for peace

1:  for mercy and understanding

2: for peace

1: for peace

3: for peace

2: for love   <pause>

3: Lord in your Mercy

Hear our prayer

1: We humbly ask that you would bless us and keep us in the palm of your hand.

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

We offer this time of quiet, praying that your mercy would fall upon us.

<wait at least two  minutes…TIME IT>

Lord in your mercy

Hear our prayer

2)  Wigs

3)  Roughly the same height (John’s got an inch or two on Gaga)

4)  Stirred up lots of controversy

5)  Their mothers pushed them to be great

6)  They live on the ‘edge of glory’ (glorification)

What else am I missing?

We pulled into Home Depot to pick up some supplies—yes, I said pulled in. Three weeks ago, the tornado’s malice turned Joplin’s Home Depot into rubble.  Macabre winds made a victim of the store’s manager as well.

“I lost my house.  I was afraid I had lost my job too,” said one employee.   As soon as it was over, Home Depot, began rebuilding.  I asked a couple employees why and their mission was clear ‘we have to rebuild so that we can help others rebuild.’  In the two weeks it took to get an operational drive-through, Home Depot told all of its employees not to worry—you have a job, take 3 weeks and know that you will be paid as if you worked for those three weeks.    All 97 employees received three weeks paid time off.

Thanks, Home Depot, for doing the right thing.  I hope that others follow your lead.

But not just the trees.  The landscape is like this too—all scars.

I didn’t understand the word devastation until I came to Joplin.  Most people marvel at the statistics:143 deaths.  I marvel at the opposite.  I examine the homes and instead marvel that anyone survived.  The tornado swirls a home into a pile of splinters.  How do you survive that?

Under mattresses, in basements, clutching to loved ones.

Most residents of Joplin call themselves and their town lucky.

-lucky that they survived

-lucky that their family is alive

-lucky they found their daughter’s favorite Dora

-lucky that the tornado hit during graduation, when much of the town was out of the tornado’s path (the high school was not)

Some weren’t lucky.  Some were downright cursed.

The people of Joplin are scarred by their memory as well.  For now, most choose to look at the healthy skin that remains.  And that inspires me.

Joplin, MO

Patheos.com asked me to write part of holy week told from the perspective of a ‘minor character.’  I chose the

Caravaggio painted his face onto Peter's

woman in the Chief Priest’s court.  Though they said they like it a lot, the language was apparently too graphic.  I hope you’re not offended.  (inspired by Mark 14:66-70)

I guess you don’t like my Lord.  You’re one of the ones who claims that Nazarene is your Lord.  My master isn’t just a Rabbi.  He’s the CHIEF PRIEST.  He arrested your master.

If you don’t like him, I don’t like you.

Go to hell.  You and your master can go to hell.  I saw your friend.  He has a name…what is it?  (I’m always forgetting names).  PETER!  Your master called him Peter.  Kepha?  Kepha!  Ha! Your Rabbi called him Kepha!  I saw your “rock.”  He was in my master’s courtyard.  Scared little piece of shit.  He doesn’t think that we know who belongs in our master’s courtyard and who doesn’t?  Galileans, dogs with names don’t belong in my master’s courtyard—certainly not a name like Kepha.  A dog is a dog, a bitch is a bitch in the courtyard of my master.  I know who I am, I always know who I am: a servant girl of the Chief Priest.

I know who your Kepha is and that tells me everything about your master.    Three times, three times, three times!  Three times he denied your Nazarene!  “You were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth,” I said.  I told the others, loud enough so he could hear me, “This man is one of them.”  He spoke like a Galilean, but I didn’t need to know that.  I saw him just a couple days ago.  He couldn’t have been happier to be with your Jesus.  He walked into Jerusalem, strutting like an eleven year-old boy who thinks he’s a man.  “Certainly you are one of them,” I pointed my finger and stared into the eyes of a rock.

And the rock broke.

He barked curses!  “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he whined.

My master would have whipped me for that!  My master would have…he wouldhave carved Chief Priest into my skin so that everyone would know who I belonged to.  I always know who my master is:  the Chief Priest.  If your Jesus had lived through the day, I can only imagine what he would have done to his “Peter.”  If my master dies, I die with him.

What’s my name?  Why would you ask that? I am a servant girl of the Chief Priest.  That’s all you need to know! That’s all that anyone knows.

My mother named me—she must have.  I asked him once, the Chief Priest.  I was four.  “Do I have a name?”  He chuckled at me.  “The bitch wants a name!” he exclaimed to the man next to him.  “You are my servant, “ he said kindly.  “Now get to your chores,” he said less kindly.   He wouldn’t give me a name.

When I am sick, I attend to my work.  I am a servant girl of the Chief Priest.

When my father died, I attended to my work and not his body.  I am a servant girl of the Chief Priest.

When my master forgets his purse, I give whatever I have to him as he needs it.  I am a servant girl of the Chief Priest.

When my sister’s master became a rival of the Chief Priest, I hated my sister.  I am a servant girl of the Chief Priest.

If I don’t do what he says, I die.  You should know that.  Your Jesus knows that.  No matter what, I am a servant girl