James Derkits

Originally published in the South Jetty News  Paper  One of my favorite songs from the Taizé community is, "Wait for the Lord." It is often sung the pre-Christmas season of Advent, but it has been running through my mind as we try to wait patiently for life to return to normal. The reason we have songs like this, in part, is because we don't want to wait. Perhaps more than ever, we are accustomed to instant gratification; we want things fixed now. In the midst of a global pandemic no one has seen in a century, it may be worthwhile to consider wisdom passed down from tradition.  Of course, the monks of Taizé drew the words of that song from scripture; the reminder to wait shows up throughout the Bible, and particularly in the Psalms: "Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield." (30:20), "Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord." (27:13), "Be strong and let your heart take courag...

I spend a lot of time with the Jonah story. I use it often, especially in pastoral conversations. In times of deep discernment, we often feel like we are in the belly of a whale. We are, especially when we wrestle with a difficult calling. We are in the dark, and it stinks. And the best thing to do is to wait in there, until we are vomited up on the beach somewhere. Then we may emerge with clearer direction of our own calling, our mission, our purpose. That's the part of the story that draws my attention. The waiting. It's not fun. Then if you read on, the rest of the story brings it's own challenging reality: when Jonah marches into Nineveh, and cries out, "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!"   The people actually listen. The king calls for a fast, to turn from violence, and they pray that God's mind would be changed. And so it was, Nineveh was spared. Sounds like a happy enough ending, but the book is not called Nineveh, it's called Jo...

I want to remember this: the Palm Sunday with no processions. That's, perhaps, over generalizing. Many churches still had a version of a palm procession. My friend in Gulfport met with ministers in their new outdoor chapel for the very first time! I got to witness it on Facebook as they prayed, then processed into the church. All the ministers, lay and ordained, walking in vestments into the church, where the liturgy quickly turns from the celebration of Christ's entry into Jerusalem, to the cross.  Palm Sunday begins our Holy Week. The Holiest week we have. When we remember the final events of Christ's death. A few people have pointed out that remembering those events sheltered in our homes, as we observe COVID-19 social restrictions may even be closer to what those original followers of Jesus experienced. All hiding from religious leaders and governmental authorities. They were hiding together.  Here at Trinity, I didn't try to imitate a procession. We have ...