St. Patrick's Day and Spring

Much of the U.S. enjoys spring-like weather these days. Are you tempted to get out and play in the dirt? If so, you might enjoy this post at Living Lutheran that talks about butterfly gardens and the work that Christians do in the world.

Speaking of Living Lutheran,  my St. Patrick's Day post is up at Living Lutheran!

For more on coracles, including a video of modern people trying to use a coracle, check out Dave Bonta's post. 

I found his post inspiring in all sorts of ways; I wrote this poem, which seems appropriate for St. Patrick's Day week-end.

Coracle of Prayer


As my computer dings
its constant reminders
of meetings and appointments,
I think of those ancient
Celtic monks and their coracles,
their faith in fragile canoes and currents
and a God who will steer
them where they need to go.

Having given over my free will
to Microsoft Office, I allow
the calendar to steer
me. I rely on my e-mails as a rudder,
although I often feel adrift
on this sea of constant communication.

Perhaps it is time to ransom my soul
which has been sold to this empire
of the modern workplace.
I look to the monks
and their rigorous schedule of prayer.
Feeling like a true subversive,
I insert appointments for my spirit
into the calendar. I code
them in a secret language
so my boss won’t know I’m speaking
in a different tongue. I launch
my coracle of prayer
into this unknown ocean,
the shore unseen, my hopes
rising like incense across a chapel.

Superhero Bible Study

At our recent stay at Lutheranch, I was lucky enough to be able to be part of Bible study and worship.  The Bible study had much potential, and so I'm happy to tell you about it here.

We started by taking a few minutes to write on a slip of power.  We were told to choose one, and only one, superpower that we would like to have.  Those were written on a huge sheet of paper, and then we guessed who wrote which one, and why we wanted those superpowers.

I was struck by the fact that half of us said we'd like to have the gift of being able to heal people.  I said I wanted to be able to heal people from a distance.  Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with the laying on of hands. But I want to be able to heal with just the power of my mind, especially if I can't be physically present.

Then we read 1 Corinthians 12: 1-11:

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed. 2You know that when you were pagans, you were enticed and led astray to idols that could not speak. 3Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says ‘Let Jesus be cursed!’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit. 4 Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; 5and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; 6and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. 7To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. 8To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, 9to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, 10to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. 11All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.

We talked about superpowers and spiritual gifts.  We talked about how just like superheroes sometimes get together and are stronger as a group, those of us with spiritual gifts are stronger when we work together.

We didn't read the next chunk of 1 Corinthians, but it fits:

12 For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. 13For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.
14 Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. 15If the foot were to say, ‘Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. 16And if the ear were to say, ‘Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body’, that would not make it any less a part of the body. 17If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? 18But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. 19If all were a single member, where would the body be? 20As it is, there are many members, yet one body. 21The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I have no need of you’, nor again the head to the feet, ‘I have no need of you.’ 22On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23and those members of the body that we think less honourable we clothe with greater honour, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect; 24whereas our more respectable members do not need this. But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honour to the inferior member, 25that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. 26If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honoured, all rejoice together with it.

I realize there are all sorts of potential problems with this approach to the text, but it intrigues me nonetheless.  It seems an interesting way to reach out to a generation who may be more familiar with superhero texts than they are with the Bible.  If your youth group is more into Harry Potter, you might consider this post on Transfiguration Sunday by Nadia Bolz-Weber, who says, "You deserve some magic. And while you could dress up and go to Harry Potter’s Wizzarding World at Universal Studios in Orlando and feel enchanted for the cost of an $85 ticket. There is something about this story, This story of heaven touching earth on a mountain 2000 years ago which promises something no other story can. There’s something about this table around which we gather every week that promises to be true in a way that myth and legend and fairy tale never can. This thing…this Jesus thing is real. The Gospel is real. Heaven touching earth is real. The body and blood of Christ is real. And only this kind of realness can re-enchant the world again and again. It is good for us to be here."


It would also be interesting to talk about why we yearn for superpowers when the powers that we have are so much more effective than those that humans had even 100 years ago, or 1000 years ago.  Think of all that your cell phone can do, for example.

I was also struck by the fact that I said that I wanted the power to heal, but I don't want to take the time it would take to complete a medical degree--actually, it's not the time but the debt that scares me.

But the superhero that I really want is the power to make disease/pain go away immediately.  Disease as modern day demon--an interesting approach to the healing miracles of Jesus.  Hmm.

Then we had a brief Eucharist service, which could also lead to some interesting meditations on superheroes and superpowers.  It was a good way to end the day.

Meditation on This Week's Gospel

The reading for Sunday, March 18, 2012:

First Reading: Numbers 21:4-9

Psalm: Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

Second Reading: Ephesians 2:1-10

Gospel: John 3:14-21

There are some Bible texts that are so prominent that it's hard to find something new to say about them. This week's Gospel includes one of them, John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

I spent my childhood and adolescent years in a variety of small, Southern towns, and this text was often used as one to exclude people. Most responses to the text that I've seen zero in on the idea that we must believe in Jesus to have eternal life, and I'm certain that I don't want to wander into that theological muck. I used to be able to spend many hours deliberating whether or not a Hindu could go to Heaven, or an atheist or . . . .

Now I'm much more interested in how we live our lives here--not so that we get into Heaven, but so that we participate in God's visions for us and for the larger world.

Today, let us focus on the text that reminds us that God doesn't enter the world to condemn us--many pop culture preachers forget that. But almost every verse of this week's Gospel reminds us that God comes to us out of love, not judgment. God comes, not to cast us into darkness. Most of us spend many hours dwelling in darkness. God comes to lead us into the light.

Many of us have come from Christian traditions which would find this theology strange. Many of us have been scarred by a theology of a divine judge who finds us wanting. Many of us fear hell.

Think about the lives we're leading--maybe that's the punishment. God has come, not to punish us further, but to save us from our punishment, which is our current lifestyle.

As we move through our days, we could use our own internal judgment to ask ourselves if we're moving towards light or towards darkness. Which activities lead us towards the life we'd like to live? Which ones take us towards darkness?

Each person might answer that question differently. Coffee with friends might be a life-affirming break that helps us survive a tough work day or it might devolve into gossip and pettiness. We might be so available to help others that our family members feel neglected.

That's why it's important to keep asking the question, to keep making sure that our lives are on a trajectory towards light. We are like airplanes, which are notoriously difficult to pilot, given that humans aren't meant to fly. That's why airplanes are equipped with a variety of monitors, so that if one system fails, another can keep the plane from tragedy.

We need a similar set of systems. We need an internal compass, one that steers us towards light. We need to continuously ask questions of our activities, to make sure our compass stays calibrated. We need to surround ourselves with like-minded people who will partner with us, instead of sabotaging us. Inasmuch as we can, we need to align ourselves with institutions that have values of light rather than values of darkness.

If we take a self-inventory and realize that we've gone off track, the Gospel gives us the good news that it's not too late. And little changes can lead to quite a different destination.

Our world is desperately in need of the light that Christians can provide. We live in a world of rampant Capitalism, which is doing a wide range of harm. The world needs our message of something that is more vital, something that is more important than making money and buying more stuff. We can be the lighthouses that lead people to safer shores.

Church Camp, from the Ground Up

We spent the past week-end at Lutheranch in westernmost Georgia, due west from Atlanta, almost to Alabama, on Interstate 20.  It's only an hour away from Atlanta, but it was amazingly rural.  We spent the week-end walking on trails, petting horses, listening to geese, all things we don't do in urban South Florida.

On Sunday morning, I stood on a dock, taking pictures of the sunrise, marvelling in the quiet.  Actually, it wasn't quiet.  I heard roosters and geese and I think a flock of turkeys.  I heard no automotive noise, no stereos, no motor noises of any kind.  I heard no humans.  I saw planes, but didn't hear them.  I thought about how rare it is for me to hear only noise generated from nature.

Lutheranch is a very new camp.  We took a walking tour to see the sites where some day there will be a dining hall and camp areas and a lodge for the adults.  There are plans, but the land has yet to be cleared.

I have trouble seeing a stretch of pine trees and envisioning a dining hall.  My mind says, "But there's hardly room for tables!"

I'm also miserably bad at rearranging the furniture.

It's interesting to be at a camp at the early stage of its development.  I've been going to Lutheridge, a camp which just celebrated its 50th anniversary, my whole life.  Once upon a time, Lutheridge was probably as rural a location as Lutheranch is today.  Now, there's a Wal-Mart across from one of the Lutheridge gates.

Lutheranch is down the road from Tallapoosa, Georgia.  Tallapoosa does have a small Piggly Wiggly grocery store, a Family Dollar, and a CVS, but not much else in the way of national stores.  Tallapoosa does have a quirky coffee shop and an intriguing junk shop in its cute downtown area.  There's a lovely stretch of about 20 historic houses.  There's a huge park which memorializes the county's citizens killed in military actions, and it includes all military actions.  It lists them, along with county members killed and county members wounded.  Very sobering.

I look forward to seeing what develops at Lutheranch.  I hope to return a time or two before construction gets underway in earnest.  And then, I'd like to return to see camp in full swing.  When I'm an old lady, reading in the morning while the world sleeps, I hope I read the blog of a woman who spent her girlhood years as a camper at Lutheranch, who heads to the newest Lutheran camp (in space?  in reclaimed parts of the U.S.?  under the incessantly rising seas?) and returns to record her impressions.

Sunday Meditative Prompts: Photographs

For your Sunday meditative pleasure, I've created a selection of photographs, all with a spiritual theme.  Which one most speaks to you? 

What Happens to Scout and Atticus

It's been awhile since I've put a poem on this blog.  But what would be a good poem for Lent?

Here's a poem that fits with Lenten themes and tones.  I wrote it for an anthology that wanted to show what happened to literary characters after the literary work ended.

At the time, I was rereading To Kill a Mockingbird.  I've always loved Scout, both the character in the book and the movie version.  I wanted to know what happened.

I can't pretend that this poem prevents a cheerful outcome.  I thought that the most tragic outcome would be for Atticus Finch to suffer Alzheimer's disease--that brilliant mind, silenced--what could be sadder?  You might say that I've discovered some.

I've shown this poem to several people who have parents who suffer from the disease.  They tell me that I've nailed the situation, and thus, the poem is painful for them.  I've worried some about that.  I've decided not to include it when I do poetry readings because it really brings down the mood and the momentum.

This poem is part of my second chapbook, I Stand Here Shredding Documents.  If you have yet to get your copy, I'd be happy to sell you an autographed copy.


Scout at Midlife


Several times a day, Atticus asks,
“Who are you again?”
And lately Scout shudders
to realize she isn’t sure.

Once, she was surrounded
by people happy to help
define her, to shape
her, like red Alabama clay
transformed into a garden.

But now these people are ghosts
who haunt her thoughts.
Dill gone on to marry
Lottie Mae after Scout waited
too long to say yes.
Jem dead in a hunting accident.
Aunt Alexandra and Calpurnia both felled
by the same kind of stroke.

Now, surrounded by the rabid
dogs of self-recrimination and regret,
she has only her Ph.D. in Theology
and memories of an earlier Atticus
to remind her that she once lived
on an intellectual plane.

Atticus asks, “What is it called,
that thing between your foot and the floor?”
Scout thinks about possible answers:
a carpet, a shoe, a sock, a callus.

She looks at her framed credentials as she explains,
once again, the nomenclature
of everyday objects. Sometimes she answers
Atticus’ questions in Hebrew.
Some days, she chooses Aramaic, Latin
some other dead language.

A Grace-Soacked Spirituality in Children's Literature

Yesterday, on my creativity blog, I wrote this piece about the 50th anniversary of the publication of A Wrinkle in Time.  I was a voracious reader as a child, and I read many books which I no longer remember at all.  But A Wrinkle in Time was different.  I remember the first time I read it.  I remember how captivated I was.  I remember returning to it again and again.

As with the Chronicles of Narnia, I don't remember saying, "Gee, what an interesting allegory.  In this book, I see x as a Christ figure, and I see the theology of the cross here."  No, of course not.  Those are things that adults say.  As a child, I wanted a great story.  If it transported me somewhere else, great.  If it taught me something, I might be OK with that, as long as the story was good.  Nothing trumped story.

I fell in love with spunky female characters:  Meg Murry (A Wrinkle in Time), girl sleuth Trixie Beldon (so much more spunky than Nancy Drew), Jo in Little Women, Laura Ingalls Wilder . . . oh the list could go on.

Those books taught me that women can be brave and adventurous, and still be loved by their families and some select outsiders.  The books I loved best taught me the importance of staying true to myself and my beliefs, even if the world I lived in told me otherwise.

I was lucky in that I got the same message from my parents and from my church, which put it in religious terms of staying true to God, if one must make a choice.  I had some friends who also valued spunkiness, and I was really lucky in having teachers who valued the unique girl that I was.  I remember teachers who praised me for my writing, instead of encouraging me to think about how to please boys.

It was the 1970's, after all.  I benefited in many ways from the feminist movement that swirled in the larger culture.

Lately, I've been thinking about children's literature and how to write good books for children, how to write books that encourage children to be true to themselves and to be true to God.  I want books that tell children that God loves them just the way that they are, that in fact, God created them just the way that they are and the way that they are is fine.

A grace-soaked spirituality in children's literature--yes, that's what I want.  And happily, A Wrinkle in Time fits that bill.  I still remember the central lesson, that abiding love can defeat a totalitarian, fascist planet.  I remember the message that little children can be the ones that save us.

In the next month or two, I expect to reread A Wrinkle in Time--and I expect to love it every bit as much as an adult as I did when I first read it in the 5th grade.  Maybe even more.