Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

True confession time:  last week I was a Gospel ahead, even though I had the dates correct.  So if you feel you've seen this before, you may be correct.

The readings for Sunday, August 4, 2013:


First Reading: Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Hosea 11:1-11

Psalm: Psalm 49:1-11 (Psalm 49:1-12 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 107:1-9, 43

Second Reading: Colossians 3:1-11

Gospel: Luke 12:13-21

Here is another Gospel where Jesus tells us how to live, and he does it both directly ("Take heed and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions") and through the use of a parable.

In this parable we meet a common figure in Jesus' parables, the person saving up treasures on earth. Recognize yourself? We've moved away, many of us, from needing larger barns, although I've met more than one person who moved to a bigger house, just to have room to put all their stuff. In fact, the average square footage of new construction grows increasingly large, while the US family grows smaller. Barn, silo, house--it's all the same to Jesus. And it all goes back to the human need for security. We store up treasures because we're so afraid of the future.

It will be interesting to see how the recent economic downturn and the housing implosion might change us. Will our houses grow increasingly large when fewer people can afford to buy a house? Will we trust more in God, since we've seen how much we can trust in our economic institutions? Or will the events of the Great Recession (or the Great Depression II, depending on your perspective) make us that much more graspy and scared to share?

Jesus comes to preach the radical Gospel of sharing. One aspect of his good news is that we have a Creator who will provide for us. That news is supposed to free us up to give away what we have. Not just our surplus, but all of it.

Most of us don't even do a good job of giving away part of what we have. We're not good at sharing. We're good at hoarding, although if you look at the US savings rate, you might argue we're not even good at that. Most of us fill our longing for security by buying more and more and more--and wondering why we feel so empty.

Usually, as we get more money, we want more money. We turn our attention to building our wealth and securing our wealth--and it takes a lot of time and attention. That process takes time and attention away from what matters: our relationship with God and our care for God's Kingdom.

Those of us who are younger know that we can't rely on the government to take care of us in our old age; we wonder if the Social Security system will exist at all when we retire. Many people have decided that if they can't rely on the government, they'll rely on themselves. But again and again, Jesus calls us to turn away from that kind of thinking.

Does that mean we shouldn't save our money? More and more, I've come to think that if we save more than we give to charity, we're on shaky spiritual ground.

Let me be the first to admit. I DO save more than I give to the poor. I'm working towards getting to the point where I give equal amounts to the poor and to my savings account. But I truly think that I'd be better off if I gave MORE to the poor and less to my savings. I agree with Archbishop Desmond Tutu who said that the unequal distribution of wealth across the globe is the greatest moral crisis of our time. I'd like to be a one-woman redistributor of wealth. But I'm not there yet.

Again and again, Jesus calls us to recalibrate our values. Again and again, Jesus reminds us to turn to God. Even if we're not ready to embrace the vision that Christ has for us, even if we're not ready for full throttle Kingdom living, we can move that way. We can boost our charitable contributions. We can leave bigger tips. We can give change to panhandlers. We can invite the lonely over for a meal. We can speak up in support of the poor (advocate for affordable housing? tell our senators and representatives to fund the food stamp program? there are so many possibilities). If we're not ready to let go of our assets, we could think about how our investments could be used to support our values. Instead of giving each other stuff for every holiday, we could think about what it is we really want: maybe we want charitable contributions, or maybe we want to agree to go on a spiritual retreat or a pilgrimage, or maybe we want a prayer partner.

As with all movement, it's amazing how a small change in direction changes our trajectory over the course of a lifetime. At the very least, we can meditate on passages like these, and pray for the strength and courage to trust God and not our money.

More on the Feast Day of Saint Martha

My blog post on the feast day of Saint Martha is up at the Living Lutheran site.  Go here to read it.

Here are some quotes to whet your appetite:

"Some scholars see the Mary and Martha story as examples of how to live the Christian life and the difficulty of navigating the two ends of the spectrum of possibilities.  Do we engage in service or do we adopt a more contemplative stance?"

"Some years, I see the Mary and Martha story as one that tells me to forgo the earthly chores to focus on God.  All of our busyness takes our focus away from God. God will not appear with white gloves to assess our spiritual progress by way of household upkeep. The assessment of our spiritual progress will focus on much more serious issues than those."

"I love that Martha has a sharp tongue, and Jesus doesn’t cast her away.  I love that we can come to Jesus with our sorrows and our irritations, and Jesus will still stay at the table to eat with us.  I love that Martha tries to make Jesus behave in the way that she thinks he should.  He refuses, but he doesn’t reject her for her attempts.  He understands her all-too-human response to him, and he continues to try to shape her to be the better human that he knows she can be."

While you're there at the Living Lutheran site, you should also check out Anita Tebben Nuetzman's post--more good stuff on Mary and Martha!

The Feast Day of Saint Martha

Today is the feast day of Saint Martha.  You may remember her from the story in Luke, where she hustles and bustles with household chores and grows ever more exasperated with her sister Mary, who isn't helping. 

It's good to remember what Jesus says to her, when she demands that he make Mary help.  Christ says, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing.^* Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her" (Luke 10: 41-42).

I hear those words anew this morning.  I, like Martha, am worried and distracted by many things.

We also see Martha in the Gospel of John, when her brother Lazarus has died.  You can tell she's seething with anger that Jesus didn't get there in time to save her brother from dying.  She doesn't hold back.

Jesus proceeds with the miracle anyway, even as Martha worries about the smell of her dead brother.

Again, I see so much of my attitude in Martha.  I want to micromanage the miracles.  I want to direct the Divine, not be open to new directions.

Tomorrow, I'll have a longer posting on Saint Martha over at the Living Lutheran site.  For today, let us think about the ways that our chores interfere with the time we have to spend with Jesus.  For today, let us try to cultivate hearts that will be open to Jesus.

Church as Telecom Company

I've had several experiences this week that have made me think about customer service, particularly when it pertains to the church.

Those of you who read my blogs know that I'm in the process of moving.  It's a process that has become much more complicated since the last time I moved.  Once, I called the various utilities to let them know, got to the new place, and everything was ready.  This time, I had to pay a deposit at the water department, even though I've been a customer since 1998.  And then, there's the phone and Internet.

I don't want to dwell too much on my unpleasant experiences with AT&T.  I've spent hours on the phone trying to get the move set up, and then, when things went astray, I've spent hours on the phone trying to straighten everything out.  I talked to customer rep after customer rep who couldn't find me in the system.

I finally broke down.  I said, "Really?  I've been your customer since 1987, and you can't find me in your system?"

I thought of all the people who tell us we've been transformed into a service economy.  I am here to tell you that we have work to do.

I kept thinking about church, and the ways that our churches offer customer service--and yes, I realize that it's a mistake in many ways to think in terms of customer service when we think about church.  More on that in a few paragraphs.

I thought about this behemoth of a phone company who still doesn't know who I am.  I think about my current church, who does know who I am.  I think about some of the women in my church who have told me I should call them when I am consumed by worry.  I am still so happy that they made that suggestion.

I think of a church I visited which gave me a visitor name tag, yet not a soul talked to me.  I had a visitor's name tag!  It couldn't have been more clear that I was new.  I stood there, waiting for someone to talk to me, to invite me to the coffee hour, to ask me if I had moved to town or was just on vacation.

Not one soul talked to me.  I felt so lonely and awkward.  I thought back to adolescence.  Do I never get to graduate from high school?

I left that church and never went back.  And I've been so conscious of being welcoming that I sometimes make mistakes in the other direction.  I remember an Easter Sunday breakfast when I sat at a table that had a man eating by himself.  I made conversation and asked if he was new.

He rared back in disbelief and told me he had been going to this church for decades.  I wanted to say, "Well, I've never seen you here before, and I'm here every Sunday."

Luckily, another church member came to my rescue with memories of that man at that church during his childhood.

Obviously, a church is not a telecom company, but I do wonder how often we behave in the way that those big companies behave.

I'm not the first person to observe that most of us want to be known.  We don't want to be a customer lost in the computer.  We don't want to be a visitor whom no one welcomes.

Those of us who have been going to our churches for a long time may have lost sight about how it feels to be the new kid.  I've been a new kid more times than I like to think about, so I'm always looking for the people at the margins, people waiting to be invited to share coffee and then later, to share concerns and worries.

It's what we're called to do.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 28, 2013:


First Reading: Ecclesiastes 1:2, 12-14; 2:18-23

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Hosea 11:1-11

Psalm: Psalm 49:1-11 (Psalm 49:1-12 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 107:1-9, 43

Second Reading: Colossians 3:1-11

Gospel: Luke 12:13-21

Here is another Gospel where Jesus tells us how to live, and he does it both directly ("Take heed and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions") and through the use of a parable.

In this parable we meet a common figure in Jesus' parables, the person saving up treasures on earth. Recognize yourself? We've moved away, many of us, from needing larger barns, although I've met more than one person who moved to a bigger house, just to have room to put all their stuff. In fact, the average square footage of new construction grows increasingly large, while the US family grows smaller. Barn, silo, house--it's all the same to Jesus. And it all goes back to the human need for security. We store up treasures because we're so afraid of the future.

It will be interesting to see how the recent economic downturn and the housing implosion might change us. Will our houses grow increasingly large when fewer people can afford to buy a house? Will we trust more in God, since we've seen how much we can trust in our economic institutions? Or will the events of the Great Recession (or the Great Depression II, depending on your perspective) make us that much more graspy and scared to share?

Jesus comes to preach the radical Gospel of sharing. One aspect of his good news is that we have a Creator who will provide for us. That news is supposed to free us up to give away what we have. Not just our surplus, but all of it.

Most of us don't even do a good job of giving away part of what we have. We're not good at sharing. We're good at hoarding, although if you look at the US savings rate, you might argue we're not even good at that. Most of us fill our longing for security by buying more and more and more--and wondering why we feel so empty.

Usually, as we get more money, we want more money. We turn our attention to building our wealth and securing our wealth--and it takes a lot of time and attention. That process takes time and attention away from what matters: our relationship with God and our care for God's Kingdom.

Those of us who are younger know that we can't rely on the government to take care of us in our old age; we wonder if the Social Security system will exist at all when we retire. Many people have decided that if they can't rely on the government, they'll rely on themselves. But again and again, Jesus calls us to turn away from that kind of thinking.

Does that mean we shouldn't save our money? More and more, I've come to think that if we save more than we give to charity, we're on shaky spiritual ground.

Let me be the first to admit. I DO save more than I give to the poor. I'm working towards getting to the point where I give equal amounts to the poor and to my savings account. But I truly think that I'd be better off if I gave MORE to the poor and less to my savings. I agree with Archbishop Desmond Tutu who said that the unequal distribution of wealth across the globe is the greatest moral crisis of our time. I'd like to be a one-woman redistributor of wealth. But I'm not there yet.

Again and again, Jesus calls us to recalibrate our values. Again and again, Jesus reminds us to turn to God. Even if we're not ready to embrace the vision that Christ has for us, even if we're not ready for full throttle Kingdom living, we can move that way. We can boost our charitable contributions. We can leave bigger tips. We can give change to panhandlers. We can invite the lonely over for a meal. We can speak up in support of the poor (advocate for affordable housing? tell our senators and representatives to fund the food stamp program? there are so many possibilities). If we're not ready to let go of our assets, we could think about how our investments could be used to support our values. Instead of giving each other stuff for every holiday, we could think about what it is we really want: maybe we want charitable contributions, or maybe we want to agree to go on a spiritual retreat or a pilgrimage, or maybe we want a prayer partner.

As with all movement, it's amazing how a small change in direction changes our trajectory over the course of a lifetime. At the very least, we can meditate on passages like these, and pray for the strength and courage to trust God and not our money.

Free Will, Faith, and the House Buying Process

On my creativity blog today, I wrote this:

"We were so very lucky on moving day. But I've been saying that during every step of our house buying adventure. For example, I just stumbled across the listing for the house on Zillow, even though the owner was no longer thinking of the house as being for sale. With each step of the way, it's felt like it was meant to be.

I know, I know: I'm a rational person. I know there could be 20 houses out there that would inspire similar feelings. Actually, I know that I'm supposed to think that. With this house and the last one, we looked at so many houses, but only one jumped out at me."

It's my creativity blog, so although I sometimes meander into the realms of the spiritual, I try to keep them separate.  Even as I was writing those lines, I was thinking about the ideas in this post that I wrote on this blog about 6 weeks ago:

"--As we've moved through this process, I've felt protected and guided at every level. You might say it's because I've been praying more. You might say it's because I'm delusional.


--It's important to remember that throughout my life, I have often felt most protected and guided as I've taken risks and taken leaps toward the life I really want to be living. I believe in a God of abundance. These times of risk taking and being open to possibilities can test that belief. I don't want to live in a fear-based economy. I want to live in faith, not in fear and doubt."

I put it another way to people who won't get offended or upset at this idea:  I have felt held by caring hands in this process.  Put another way, I have felt held by God's caring hands the whole way.

I know the next question:  where is free will in all of this?  I have several answers.

--I asked for help and guidance.  I try to remember to do that on a regular basis, but during the house buying process, it was much easier to remember.

--I believe that if we ask for help and guidance, then God doesn't violate the rules of a free will universe.  I have asked, after all.  God can respond.

--And even with God's response, I still have free will in my actions. I don't have to accept help and guidance.

And now it is on to the next step of this process.  It is time to sell the old house.

Yes, we've done this process in the reverse way that most people do it.  Again, luck or guidance?  In any event, I'm grateful.

And I'm open and willing to help and guidance when it comes to selling the old house.

The Feast Day of Mary Magdalene

By now, I've written about Mary Magdalene several times.  My latest thoughts are in this blog post over at Living Lutheran.  I decided to be brave and write about demon possession, even though I'm generally dismissive of the very concept of demon possession in most of my writing. 

I'm going to take the liberty of reprinting here the post I wrote for Living Lutheran last year:

Mary Magdalene’s Lessons for Modern Christians


On July 22, we celebrate the life of Mary Magdalene. Take a minute with the reading for her feast day: John 20:1-2, 11-18. How interesting to have the Easter story out of sequence, here in the middle of summer, and not at its usual time at the end of Holy Week and Lent. Do we notice different nuances?

Actually, the verses that are left out hold an important key. After Mary Magdalene tells the male disciples about the empty tomb, several of them race towards the tomb. They look, they assess, and then they go home. It is only Mary who stays behind to weep.

This week has been more hectic than usual at work, which leads me to reflect on what Mary has to teach us about pace and rushing and hurry, hurry, hurry. It's Mary who stays behind to grieve, while the male disciples are running off to do whatever it is they feel compelled to do. It's because she stays behind to rest and to grieve that she gets to be the first to see the risen Lord.

Busyness is the drug that many of us in this modern age use to dull our senses. But in our busyness, we forget what's really important. We forget to focus on Christ. We forget to model our lives on Christ’s.

Paradoxically, the story of Mary Magdalene reminds us not only to rest, but to stay alert.

If we're too busy, we might miss Christ altogether. If we're not careful, we'll assume that we're not needed and go back to our houses. But if we’re too swamped in grief and despair, we might miss Jesus too. If we're not careful, we won't notice that the gardener is really Jesus.

It's good to be reminded of the resurrection story in the middle of July. Now the year is over half way done. We don't have the magic of spring to renew our spirits. We may be feeling scorched by the weather and grieved by our dashed hopes for the year. It's good to remember that we're promised grace and salvation. The promise remains, even if we don’t always recognize Christ beside us.

You might be saying, “Mary Magdalene? Wasn’t she possessed by demons? Wasn’t she a prostitute? Why would Christ appear to her anyway? Why does she get a feast day?”

There have been many moves throughout church history to strip Mary Magdalene of her importance. Many church teachings portray her as a prostitute, as mentally ill, or both. But I don't usually trust the ancient writers when it comes to their descriptions of emotional or sexual states, especially not when it comes to females. I can see that the ancient church had a vested interest in diminishing Mary Magdalene of her story and her power.

The comfort of the Gospel is that Jesus included all the dispossessed in his ministry. Jesus spent a lot of time with women, and if you read the Gospel closely, you'll notice key women followers often seemed to understand the nature of Christ's work much more quickly than the key males did. Scholars of the early Church tell us that the money supplied by women often kept missions going.

One of the lessons offered in Mary Magdalene’s story might have to do with reputation and how the world might slander us for our faithfulness. But we really can't worry about that. The world will slander us for all sorts of reasons. The story of Mary Magdalene reminds us that there are greater rewards than respect and a good reputation, a reminder that’s still true today in our modern times.

Full Habit, Full Sail

Two weeks ago, we'd have been finishing up our sailing trip. I've been remembering a scene that I don't want to forget.
As we sailed back towards the marina, we passed a boat going out. At first, it looked like any other boat. But as it passed us, we realized it was full of nuns--roughly 6-8 of them.

You might ask how we knew they were nuns. They were dressed in full habit--the traditional habit that nuns used to wear. So, on an afternoon that had highs in the mid-90's, they wore long robe-like, white garments with long sleeves and their hair was completely covered.

Still, they looked like they were having a good time. Two of them reclined on seats with their faces turned up to the sun. Some of them stood and surveyed the horizon. Several men were also on the sailboat, but I couldn't tell if they wore collars or not.

I'm not sure why it seemed like such a disconnect. I've known monastic communities and read about them, and I realize that they're as human as any of the rest of us. But I've never seen anyone in full habit out on the Chesapeake Bay or any other place body of water.

What would it be like to take a sailing trip with nuns?  Would we talk about God and the glories of God's creation?  Would we nap?  What kind of picnic would we have?

Moving Day

If all goes well today, tonight should be the first night we spend in the new house.  We have yet to sell the old house, or even place it on the market, so our exit isn't as final as some of the moves we've made.  Still, it seems like a good morning to look back and think about the spiritual developments that have happened while we've lived in this house.

--When we first moved here, in December 1998, we weren't regular church goers.  Then, in January of 2000, my mother-in-law moved down, and going to church was something we could do together.  We had been wanting to be more regular in our attendance, and she helped with that.

--I have since been deeply involved with the church Council for 2 different churches.  In a way, that's a frustrating development because I spend a lot of time on issues of the building and finances.  But my involvement with the Council also makes me more involved with the Church/church.

--Would I have gone through some of the other spiritual developments that I have if I hadn't been going to church?  Perhaps.

--It was from this house that I set forth on my pilgrimage to Mepkin Abbey.  I was reading Kathleen Norris, as was my friend, and we wanted a similar experience to the one she describes in her books.  She knew that Mepkin Abbey was nearby, and we arranged a visit.  And from that, I fell deeply in love with the place and have returned almost yearly.

--Because of my Mepkin Abbey experiences, I've tried to have more fixed hour prayer in my life.  That's been easier in earlier years when I was a faculty member and was home more.  I could leave my prayer book out so that it would remind me to pray.

--I've set up spiritual reminders of other sorts in the house--not quite altars, but places that remind me to look for God, to say thank you, to pray in other ways, and to try to inject the sacred into the daily.

--It was from this house that I went to my first Create in Me retreat at Lutheridge, and I've returned yearly.  I've also been part of the planning team.  It's another event that has enriched me.  More than that, it's a community. 

--I've done a lot of spiritual writing in this house, most notably this blog.  And this blog writing has led to other opportunities, like being a blogger for the Living Lutheran site and writing articles for The Lutheran magazine.  I've also been asked to write prayers for a variety of Augsburg Fortress projects, which came about because of my writing a weekly Gospel meditation that I sent out by e-mail before I was a blogger.  I wrote a proposal to the publisher that I transform these meditations into a book of devotions.  That proposal wasn't accepted, but it was in an editor's files when she was looking for someone to write prayers.

--In many ways, my spiritual development while living here has not been about the house.  It might have happened anywhere.  But the house has been a constant through the last 15 years, while many of the other factors have changed (my church, my job duties, even some of my friends who have moved away or changed jobs).

--What kind of spiritual developments will the new house foster?  Stay tuned!

Falling into "Falling Upward"

I have been reading Richard Rohr's Falling Upward:  A Spirituality for the the Two Halves of Life.  What an intriguing, accessible book.

His thesis is that during the first half of life, we spend a lot of time defining ourselves, and most of us do that by creating categories, often quite rigid ones.  We decide who we are not.  We ask ourselves questions that help us determine life's purpose.

But by midlife, those are often the wrong questions.  They often lead us to be worried about status and away from what really matters.  And too many of us are stuck there, working on the container, as he calls it, rather than the contents.

It doesn't sound as profound when I write it out here.  But the book is full of profound insights.  Here are some quotes to whet your appetite:

"Western people are a ritually starved people, and in this are different than most of human history." (p. 44)

"There is a deeper voice of God, which you must learn to hear and obey in the second half of life.  It will sound an awful lot like the voices of risk, of trust, of surrender, of soul, of 'common sense,' of destiny, of love, of an intimate stranger, or your deepest self, of soulful 'Beatrice.'  The true faith journey only begins at this point." (p. 48)

:The Eight Beatitudes speak to you much more than the Ten Commandments now.  I have always wondered why people never want to put a stone monument of the Eight Beatitudes on the courthouse lawn.Then I realize that the Eight Beatitudes of Jesus would probably not be very good for any war, any macho worldview, the wealthy, or our consumer economy.  Courthouses are good and necessary first-half-of-life institutions.  In the second half,you try instead to influence events, work for change, quietly persuade, change your own attitude, pray, or forgive instead of taking things to court." (.p. 119)

"Basically, the first half of life is writing the text, and the second half is writing the commentary on that text." (p. 143)

"God knows that all of us will fall somehow.  Those events that lead us to 'catastrophize' out of all proportion must be business as usual for God--at least six billion times a day.  Like good spiritual directors do, God must say after each failure of ours, 'Oh, here is a great opportunity!  Let's see how we can work with this!'"

Blessing the House, Blessing the World

On Sunday, we were talking with our pastor about our move to the new house. He asked if we wanted a house blessing. The idea immediately appealed to me.


A Lutheran house blessing is different than what you'd find in other cultures. Lutherans don't expel demons or other evil spirits, although my pastor says that he sometimes gets phone calls from people who want that kind of service.

Part of the reason for that request is the popular culture that surrounds all of us; we approach the 30th anniversary of The Exorcist, and it's not like that was the first or the last of the possessed-by-a-demon narratives. But part of it is the island culture that's part of the larger culture in South Florida.

I don't believe in evil spirits, although I have lived in houses that seemed determined to drive me away. But my rational brain was firm in its insistence that shoddy upkeep of past owners led to the repair disasters, not evil spirits.

I walked into the house that we've just bought and immediately felt at home. That doesn't always happen. It was a welcoming vibe, but that's more about my mindset than it is about good spirits that inhabit the house.

Right?

In the summer of 2003, we had work done on the kitchen of our old house, which meant we had a variety of workers coming through. A Jamaican carpenter said, "You live in a house of love and joy. I can feel it when I come through the door."

At the time, I took it as a compliment. I still do, although I realize he may have been thinking of literal spirits, not just the spirits of me and my spouse.

I hope our new house will have that vibe. And that's what Lutheran house blessing will do. It will ask God to bless the residents and visitors and to protect us all. I'm looking forward to it.

Maybe my pastor could bless my office too while we're blessing the structures that we inhabit.

Here's where I admire the tradition of our Jewish brothers and sisters who have blessings for all sorts of situations as they move through the day.  I wonder what a Lutheran book of blessings would look like.

I've really liked writing prayers.  I wonder if I would like writing blessings.  I'm fairly sure that I would, and the practice would help me with the spirit of gratitude that I want to encourage in my brain.

It's an interesting spiritual practice, the practice of saying blessings through the day, the practice of blessing everyone and everything that crosses our path through the day.  Some days, I ask God's blessing on all the students, faculty, and staff that I see as I walk through the hallways.  But I only remember to do that for a brief time.  Could I move to the point where I'm doing it more frequently?

And if I wrote the blessings down, would I be similarly enriched?

Most of my blessings seem simple, not worth writing down.  Maybe I'm really thinking about 2 practices here.

In any event, I'd like to do more blessing.  A house blessing will be a good place to start.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 21, 2013:


First Reading: Genesis 18:1-10a

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Amos 8:1-12

Psalm: Psalm 15

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 52

Second Reading: Colossians 1:15-28

Gospel: Luke 10:38-42


Ah, the Mary and Martha story, another story that's familiar to many of us who have been going to church through the years. It's one of those stories that provokes howls of rage from people. Like the story of the Prodigal Son, it may trip our "That's not FAIR!!!" switch. It's easy to see how the Good Samaritan is the model for our behavior. The Mary and Martha story prickles us more.

Many of us were probably raised to be the Martha. I have a friend who won't let herself even exercise until her household chores are done, so engrained is the idea of "work first, play later" into her psyche--unlike some of us, who see exercise as one of the daily chores that must be done before we can play.

Think about the last time that someone visited you. If you're like many of us, you spent the days and weeks before the visit getting ready: cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry, restoring order. By the time your guests arrived, you may have been too exhausted from getting ready for them to be fully present.

That's the story we see in this week's Gospel. Martha scurries around so much that she can't be present for Jesus. How often are our current lives similar? We often get so consumed by the chores of our daily life that we neglect to notice the Sacred in our midst.

Keep in mind that even though the story revolves around women, men are not exempt from this paradigm. All humans must wrestle with the question of how to balance the chores that are necessary to sustain life with the spiritual nourishment that we need so desperately. Unfortunately, often the chores win.

I can hear some of us shrieking by now: "Yes, but those chores must be done!" Really? Are you sure? What would happen if you didn't vacuum this week? What would happen if you wore your clothes an extra time or two before laundering them? What would happen if you surrendered to the dust?

Jesus tells Martha that she worries about many things, and the implication is that all of the issues that cause her anxiety aren’t really important. It's a story many of us, with our increasingly hectic lives, need to hear again--maybe every day.

We need to be reminded to stay alert. Busyness is the drug that many of us use to dull our senses. For some of us, charging through our to-do lists is a way of quelling the anxiety. But in our busyness, we forget what's really important. We forget to focus on Christ and living the way he commanded us.

Give up one chore this week, and return to the Gospel. Notice that Jesus never--NEVER--focuses on the household chores. Jesus doesn't say, "Blessed are those who keep a clean house, for those have already possessed the Kingdom of God."

You may think that Jesus said, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." Jesus did not.

All of our busyness takes our focus away from God. God will not appear with white gloves to assess our spiritual progress by way of household upkeep. The assessment of our spiritual progress will focus on much more serious issues than those.

All those chores keep you away from your earthly relationships. Jesus called on us to care for the poor and the dispossessed, not the dusty objects that clutter our houses.

Jesus reminds Martha that Mary has chosen what’s important: listening to God. What are you choosing today?

When Retreat Means Changing the Channel

I work out at a gym that began as part of a hospital's cardiac rehab unit.  I usually fill up my water bottle in the hallway that leads to the spin room.  It's a wide hallway that also serves as a waiting area, so there's a small sofa and a T.V. amidst the doors that lead to individual offices.

Yesterday, as all the other gym televisions blared the local news, I noticed that the one on the hallway was tuned to the Nickelodeon channel.  I asked the woman in the opposite office, a woman who's also a spin class buddy, if she had chosen the channel.

She laughed and said she'd changed it when there was a child in the waiting area.  She said she decided to keep it there because she's so tired of hearing coverage of the George Zimmerman trial.

I can relate.  I remember my younger years, when I was more easily moved to outrage.  I'm not sorry to lose my easy capacity for outrage.  But I do worry that I'm losing my capacity for empathy.  I worry that I'm slow to grieve.

I think of Jesus who wept over the plight of various humans.  How would he react to our 24 hour news cycle, especially when almost all of the news is so negative and there's so little that individuals can do?

The human brain, indeed the whole human body, was not built for news on this scale.  It's no wonder I feel like I need to harden my heart.

But yesterday's encounter reminded me of a different way:  I can change the channel.

It's a form of retreat.  There are times in the Gospels when we see Jesus as hounded celebrity.  How does he handle this constant neediness that surrounds him?

He retreats periodically.  I imagine he would advise us to retreat too.  Even if we can't physically travel to someplace remote, we can leave the world's great gaping needs behind for a bit.  And then, we're likely to return refreshed and ready to help heal the world's hurts.

Last Thoughts on Yesterday's Gospel

We have been away from the Revised Common Lectionary at my church for some time.  We used the Narrative Lectionary for much of the school year last year (2012-2013).  For summer, we've been travelling through Acts.

I've been continuing to post weekly meditations on the Revised Common Lectionary here, and it's interesting to contemplate the intersections.  Yesterday, while much of the world explored the Good Samaritan, we read Acts 9:  32-43, where Paul heals and brings back Tabitha, also called Dorcas, back from the dead. 

Our pastor talked about a time where he knew he would likely be called to the hospital:   a woman with a difficult pregnancy wanted to be sure he could get to the hospital to baptize the baby.  He kept the supplies by the door, ready to go at a moment's notice.

I thought of the to-go pack in popular culture, of people living in apocalyptic times who try to prepare ahead of their run for safety.  My favorite example is Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower.  The teenage protagonist and narrator knows that the outside world is likely to invade her walled community at some point, and she prepares a backpack and even does drills where she practices grabbing the bag in the dark. 

I thought of the spiritual to-go pack.  I wondered if a vial of holy water is part of the standard Eucharist bag.  Would sanctified oil be part of it?  I'd want both, although in the Lutheran tradition, one doesn't need special water to do a baptism.

I thought of the items that most of us take with us through our weekly lives.  What's in your purse/backpack that travels with you?

The Feast Day of Woody Guthrie

Today is Woody Guthrie's birthday. It's also Bastille Day, the French equivalent (sort of ) of our Independence Day. I see this historical event as one of many that launched us on the road to equality. It's an uneven success to be sure. More of us in the first world enjoy liberty than those in developing nation. But that thirst for freedom and equality found some expression in the French Revolution, and I could argue that much liberation theology has some rootedness in that soil (yes, it would be a problematic argument, I know).


I see Woody Guthrie as one of the unsung (ha ha) liberation theologians.

I've always asked my students if they're familiar with his music, and they always say they're not. Then I sing a bit of "This Land Is Your Land," and they realize that they do know his work.

Unfortunately, the most radical verses of that song are often not sung:

"In the squares of the city, In the shadow of a steeple;
By the relief office, I'd seen my people.
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking,
Is this land made for you and me?

As I went walking, I saw a sign there,
And on the sign there, It said "no trespassing." [In another version, the sign reads "Private Property"]
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing!
That side was made for you and me. "

Throughout his life, Woody Guthrie showed a compassion for the poor and the dispossessed that we see so rarely from famous/talented/artistic people. He also showed an amazing capacity for nurturing the talents of the next generation (most notably, Bob Dylan and later, through his music, Bruce Springsteen and U2). We could argue about his Huntington's disease: what was responsible for what? We could talk about his womanizing and his abandonment of his children, and I'm not arguing that he gets a free pass on that behavior because of his disease or because of his artistic talent.

I am saying that his lifelong radicalism impresses me. His lifelong commitment to his art impresses me. His struggle to be a better family man, requiring a fresh start again and again, impresses me. His ability to create art in spite of his lack of formal training and education, impresses me.

He has written songs that school children sing, songs that rock and roll folks sing, songs that invade my sleep and sweeten my dreams.

If I was the person in charge of modern feast days, I'd canonize Woody Guthrie.  His songs point the way to living a more solidly ethical life.  His life does not, except by example of some things not to do.  And yet, at the end, despite his wanderings, the love of his life, Marjorie, continued to care about him.

It's easier to love someone like Woody Guthrie who has a brain disease that makes him behave badly.  It would be much harder if he was a jerk just because he was a jerk.

You might ask me why he deserves a feast day.  I would point out his prolific output, his variety of types of songs, his embrace of dispossessed people of all sorts, his embrace of freedom.  I would argue that his music can lead us to the social justice actions that God commands.  I could make a case that his music leads us to God, both the songs he wrote, and the songs inspired by his life and work.

What better person to make a saint?  I'm not exactly serious, because I know most people could make a fairly lengthy list of people who deserve sainthood more. 

But for today, let's celebrate a musical legend.  Let's celebrate the man who gave us the line "This land was made for you and me."  Let's sing!

House Purchases and Social Justice

We have finally closed on our new house.  Now I own 2 properties in South Florida.  Well, to be more accurate, I outright own one house and I have a heavily mortgaged new house.

I've been writing a bit about our search, but I haven't written about the specifics much.  I didn't want to jinx the process.

I've taken the same approach in real life as online life.  A few friends know of this journey.  A few people at work know because I've had to rearrange work hours at some points.  But for the most part, we haven't told very many people.

Now I face the interesting task of saying, "Hey, you didn't know we were doing this, but we've bought a house!"

Will people feel odd that we didn't tell them earlier?  Why do I feel odd?

With our friends at church, and with some of our other friends too, there's an interesting social justice angle.  Lest you think my friends are judgmental sorts, let me hasten to say that it probably comes more from me than from them.

My inner 19 year old objects strenuously to this project.  She points out that if we're willing to spend gobs of money on a new house, when we have a perfectly good house already, that we should funnel that money instead to the poor and the dispossessed.

My inner 19 year old would not care one whit about housing values and crime rates.  She wouldn't give us a break because retirement approaches, and we need a house that will appreciate in value.

She would get huffy.  She would say, "There are only 2 of you.  Why do you need the luxury of all this space?"

Ah, we're back to that question, the one that haunts the Gospels, and not just the Gospels, but most spiritual texts:  are we living a life that's integrated with our values?  What does our use of our money say about what we truly value?

So, I am conflicted, as I have been conflicted most of my life.  I feel guilt because I have much and so many have so little.  I share what I have, but it doesn't alleviate my guilt.  It doesn't erase the sorrow that I feel because I have had opportunities while others have faced obstacle after obstacle.

I'm fairly I will feel this way my whole life. 

And truth be told, I wouldn't want those feelings to vanish.  I want that feeling of gratitude, of knowing that I have been the lucky recipient of much abundance.  I want to feel that sorrow for those who haven't had the same blessings.  I want my sorrow to motivate me to share.

And more than that, I want to continue to work for a more just world, one where abundance is more evenly distributed, where more people have all sorts of opportunities.

Jesus, too, wept over the plight of the poor and dispossessed.  And Jesus showed us all sorts of ways to work for them.  And the first place to start is prayer.

Mary Magdalene Post at "Living Lutheran"

I have a blog post about Mary Magdalene and her demons.  Go here to read it.

Here are some chunks to whet your appetite:

"I wonder if she missed the demons, once Jesus cleaned them out of her. As anyone who has wrestled with modern demons knows, our demons are comfortable, which is why it’s often hard to let them go. I imagine Mary Magdalene, in the quiet of the night, having trouble sleeping, missing the hiss of the demon who told her she wasn’t good enough."


"In Mary’s reaction to the man she assumes is the gardener, I recognize my own demon of anxiety. I watch her ask a perfect stranger about the body of Jesus. I watch her throw all caution and decorum away, so desperate is she to complete this task, as if completing the task will restore the world to right order."

"The Easter message comes to cast out these demons again and again. Christ reminds us that he’s here, always waiting, always watching, always ready for us. Even if we don’t recognize him, Jesus will not cast us away. It is the voice of Jesus that can silence all of our demons and help us to be at peace. Christ’s voice calls us to what’s important in our lives."

Fears, Fathomable and Otherwise

Being with my nephew reminds me of how interesting it is to watch him grow and change.  Memories of his younger years swirl around me.  Lately, as I've been feeling fretful about a variety of things, I've thought of what used to terrify him when he was younger.

He went through a stage where he was terrified of lawnmowers.  He wasn't just terrified for himself, of course.  He wanted us all to run away.  We tried to explain that they were mostly harmless, and I could see him looking at us in disbelief.  He'd hear the roar, and I could almost hear him saying, "Don't you adults realize what's coming?  If we run now, we might escape."

I think of my younger fears.  Was I really that young woman who doubted her intellectual ability and wasn't sure she could make it through a graduate program?  Was I once that woman who kept a case of water in her trunk, along with other emergency supplies, and who never let the gas tank get below half full, just in case an emergency arose, and I had to leave quickly?

I wonder if my current fears will seem as unfathomable to me a few decades from now when I look back.  Will I laugh at my fears of global warming and sea level rise?  Or will I wish I had sold my Florida property earlier?  Will I wonder why I was so worried about finances?

It's so easy to dismiss my past fears with the benefit of hindsight.  It's so hard to be live a life of trust in God's abundance here in the present tense.

I wonder if God looks at my fears with the same gentle bemusement with which we regarded my nephew's fears of the lawnmower.  Does God say, "Why is she still so racked with doubt and fear?  Does she not yet realize that I've got it all under control?"

I imagine God saying this with fondness.  I do not imagine a God who says, "Really?  You're still stuck in fretfulness?  Well, just forget it then.  I'm not sending good gifts your way again."

No, that's not the kind of God as parent whom I envision.  Instead I think of my spouse, who used to pick up my terrified nephew and move in the opposite direction of any lawnmower.  I think of my spouse who held my nephew high and murmered comforting words to him.

That's the kind of God who makes the most sense to me.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 14, 2013:


First Reading: Deuteronomy 30:9-14

First Reading (Semi-cont.): Amos 7:7-17

Psalm: Psalm 25:1-9 (Psalm 25:1-10 NRSV)

Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 82

Second Reading: Colossians 1:1-14

Gospel: Luke 10:25-37


This week's Gospel presents one of the stories that even non-Christians are likely to have heard before: the story of the Good Samaritan. Those of us who go to church have heard it so regularly that we may have lost sight of the message. The fact that we hear it so regularly should tell us how important the message is.

We could focus on the fact that it's the lowly Samaritan (a foreigner!) who helps the victim, not the priest and the Levite, who hold high status in the Jewish society. We could focus on the victim, who, after all, invited trouble by traveling alone. In the details of how the Samaritan doctors the victim, binding his wounds with oil and wine, we see the foreshadowings of Christ's crucifixion.

But go back to the story again. Note the first few verses of the Gospel; in many ways, these verses sum up the whole Bible: Love God and love each other more than you love yourself. Most of us, when hearing those commands, say, "Great. I'm on target. Love God--check. Love other people--yup, most of the time." The story of the Good Samaritan is told to demonstrate what Jesus means when he gives us the Great Commandments. And here we see the size of the task that Christ gives us.

Many of us think of Love as an emotion, something that we feel. Here Jesus shows that that kind of emotional love is cheap, and not at all what he has in mind. We show our love by action, what we do for those who need us. It's not enough to see our fellow humans and think about how much we love them. Frankly, many of us can't even do that. Monitor your thoughts and feelings as you drive around town, and be honest. Are you really feeling love? Most of us are lucky if we can pull off feeling benign neglect. Many of us go through our days feeling murderous rage. Many of us go through our lives numbed by depression and pain, and trying desperately not to feel anything.

There's a way out of this pit. We must go through life behaving as if we love each other. We can behave ourselves into love. We don't have to start out by stopping for every crime victim we see. We don't have to start out by giving away our money. Although these are worthy goals, we can start where we are. When someone cuts you off in traffic, offer up a prayer for them. Smile at your snarling comrades at work. When someone wants some sympathy, offer it. Leave the waitstaff a more generous tip. Help out, even when you don't have to. Stop keeping track of who has done what, and you must stop right now, if keeping that list makes you feel aggrieved, because you've done so much more than everyone else. Instead of keeping track of your losses, keep track of gratitude. Share what you have, and it's especially important to share what you have with people who haven't had the lucky breaks that you have had.

In this Gospel, it's easy to see the Good Samaritan as a Christ figure: the outsider who stops to help, who takes charge of the victimized who have been left to bleed to death by the side of the road, the one who finds care for the victim and pays for it. We often lose sight of the fact that we are called to be Good Samaritans to the world. Once you start looking for opportunities to bind the wounds of the world, you'll find it easy to do that task daily. And then you'll fulfill the greatest commandment. God makes it clear that we show our love for God by loving each other.

Theological Lessons from a Sailing Trip

We are back from a brief sailing trip.  I'm lucky to have family with a sailboat, and I'm truly blessed that they invite us along for a trip each year.  Let me record some theological whisps that came to me on this trip.

--We sailed to anchor out for a few days, which meant we went without much of what society would tell us we need, in favor of what religious traditions would tell us is truly important:  time in nature, time with loved ones, time with more quiet, time to sleep.  It's good to be reminded, but it does make me wonder how I can bring these lessons with me longer into my return time.  I'm often on track for a day or two, but then again I'm swamped with regular life.

--My 7 year old nephew was classifying people.  He seemed to say that people in Heaven are better than people on earth.  I just heard this nugget as I passed by, and I don't want to be that relative who always jumps in to correct or to engage.  Besides, I needed some time to ponder.  Are we perfected when we get to Heaven?  Did my nephew mean that people in Heaven are in a better place?

--I loved being in a more natural environment.  The trees seemed a different kind of green up in Maryland.  The Chesapeake is very different than the Atlantic off the coast of South Florida.

--They both teem with jellyfish, though.  I kept reminding myself that jellyfish are God's creatures too.

--I was reminded again and again that we have everything we need.  We may think we need more, but we live in an abundant world.  The capitalist world tells us that we need more, more, more, but a sailing trip reminds us that a chicken neck can bring us an abundance of crabs--a tasty supper.

--And now, regular life summons me back.  I'll try to remember the lessons of this sailing trip.  I'll try to remember to say thank you.  I'll try to remember to ask for what I need and to rest secure in the knowledge that God is there for me.

Prophets Ancient and Modern

--I left a comment on a blog and my words presented for me to type to prove I'm real: yurgic allusion. I started thinking about the different types of allusions and what a yurgic one might be. One could have real fun with this.


--That got me thinking about ghosts in the machine and the idea that maybe mechanical things have a consciousness too. I thought about an interview I heard over a decade ago, about Daniel Dennett hypothesizing that computers are using us to help them evolve. He made a compelling case.

--I remember him talking about the future of the planet moving from carbon based life forms to silicon based. My brain did the switch that it sometimes did, and I had a vision of millions of silicone breast implants plotting world domination.

--When I first heard that interview, it wasn't possible to get an Internet connection through a cell phone. The longer I live, the more I think of Dennett as a modern prophet.

--I have old-fashioned prophets on the brain too, John the Baptist and Moses. I have a sense of how ancient people believed that God talked to them. Occasionally, I wonder if God is talking to us through our machines.

--Is there a poem there? Could God be sending messages through word verification experiments?

--It's certainly not as clear as shrubbery bursting into flame but not burning or wild-eyed men with their locusts and honey. Or maybe it's every bit as clear.

--These thoughts put me in mind of a poem that I wrote years ago, which I'll post below. I'm surprised at the male gender of God in this poem.

--I've spent much of my adult life arguing for gender neutrality as much as possible, especially when it comes to the gender of God. It's hard to escape my childhood vision of God, which seems to be the default of my brain. My child brain envisioned God as a longer-bearded version of Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C.

--But before I get too far away from the topic which made me want to post this poem, let me post it. It was first published in the online journal Referential.


Rendered Mute

His angels return, abject in failure.
Lately, an angel makes an appearance,
and the human makes an appointment
with the doctor. Anti-psychotic
medications render his angels mute.

He used to be able to appear in visions,
back in the days when humans remembered
their dreams and dissected them over breakfast.
But his humans, ever more efficient, have banished
sleep from their daily to-do lists. They drop
into dreamless heaps and sleepwalk through the day.

Even the night skies defeat
his purposes. His industrious
humans, so smart, have lit
the planet with electricity and cloaked
the skies with smog. No one can see
the celestial signs he sends.

He even tries the personal touch, the old tried and true,
but decides to leave the shrubbery
alone after that woman yelled
at him. “I just planted that bush.
I don’t think Home Depot will take it back
in this condition. Have you priced plants lately?”

He considers withdrawal, the passive-
aggressive game of pretending not to care,
pretending there’s no pain.

He decides to mute his majesty.
From now on, he will not be the first
to speak. Instead, he decides to create spectacular
sunsets, and new colors, and a new species here or there.
He attends to the routine miracles: tumors that shrink,
lucidity repaired, relationships resurrected.
He sketches recipes for miracle drugs
in the laboratory dust of the pharmaceutical companies
and moves the iron clad hearts
of dictators who free the jailed opposition leaders.

Medititation on Freedom for the Fourth of July

For many of us, Independence Day is a day of cook-outs and fireworks.  If we don't live in a place that has preserved colonial history, or if we live further west, Independence Day may seem a distant holiday.  But today is a good day to remember the high stakes that those signers of the Declaration of Independence faced.  It's good to remember how much they valued the idea of freedom, even if they didn't extend those freedoms to all.

It's a good day to think about what liberties we hold most valuable.  Those signers pledged their lives, their fortune, and their sacred honor--what would you pledge?

You might think that the freedom to practice my spiritual faith is most important to me, and I do value that.  But having access to information might be even more important to me.  If I had to choose my favorite right from the Bill of Rights, it might be freedom of the Press.

I like the ability to read just about anything that comes my way.  But maybe the ability to create is even more precious to me.  Unlike Chinese artists, I don't have to worry about being arrested and sent to jail.

I like the freedom of movement we have in this country--granted that's not a freedom that we find enshrined in our founding documents.  But the other freedoms lead to that freedom of movement--both physical movement and the movement of our minds.

I like being able to follow the path, wherever it leads.  I want to leave some light as I go along to lead a way to others.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, July 7, 2013:

Complementary Series


Isaiah 66:10–14

Psalm 66:1–9 (4)

Galatians 6:[1–6] 7–16

Luke 10:1–11, 16–20


Semicontinuous Series

2 Kings 5:1–14

Psalm 30 (2)

Galatians 6:[1–6] 7–16

Luke 10:1–11, 16–20


Whenever I'm part of a church that's trying to figure out how to repair the building, I think of this passage, of this early mission that Jesus gives his followers.  He doesn't say, "Go and build a building.  Make the sanctuary look like this, and have an education wing with classrooms that your pre-school can use during the week.  Make sure to have a kitchen so that you can have pot-luck dinners with ease.  Make the bathrooms handicapped accessible, and have one bathroom that's not gender-specified so that transgender people will feel at ease.  Have diaper changing stations in both the male and female restrooms.  Have this kind of playground equipment."

Jesus doesn't tell his followers to sit and wait for people to come to them.  He sends them out.  And notice that he doesn't send them out in big groups.  He sends them out in pairs.  It's good to have a companion on the journey, but Christ knows that if too big a group goes out, they won't reach out to the inhabitants of the towns they travel to.

He sends his followers out with very little.  They don't have first aid kits.  They don't have money or even a change of clothes.  They depend on the people they will meet for hospitality.

In so many ways, this approach is brilliant.  It will force the followers to meet new people.  Their hunger and desire for safe shelter will motivate them.  You can't stay insulated from the population if you travel with very little.

Jesus recognizes the danger.  He has instructions for the followers who will meet hostility.  They are not to stay and argue.  They are to keep moving.

What does this passage have to say to modern Christians?  Here my English major self takes over.

What if Jesus wasn't speaking literally?  I know, I know, we have the book of Acts which shows that the early followers took this passage literally.  But we suspect that the early followers often misinterpreted Jesus.  What if we're being too literal here?

English majors know that when a journey appears in a work of literature, it's often a metaphor for the journey of life.  What if Jesus used this metaphor to show us how to move through our lives? 

There's the message of simplicity, which we get in many of our Gospel texts, along with the reminder not to be too attached to worldly goods and worldly acclaim.  And there's the message of community, the value of having some like-minded friends beside you.

If we interpret this passage metaphorically, we're still not able to escape the evangelism message.  We still need to deliver the good news that God loves us, that the perfection of creation has begun, the Kingdom is breaking through. 

I think of this idea each year as I witness Vacation Bible School.  I see children who aren't interested in church as grown ups offer it, but who LOVE Vacation Bible School.  I know more than one parent who goes from church to church so that the child can repeat the wonderful experience of VBS.  I know children who love VBS so much that they bring their closest friends.

What would happen if we felt about our faith the way that children felt about VBS?  Would it be easier to go out into our communities to tell people what's going on behind our church walls?

And if you're feeling that spiritual dryness that we all feel every so often, that aridness that makes it hard for you to imagine taking on this mission, maybe it's time to introduce some water to your spiritual landscape.  That water will be different for each person.  Maybe you need more time for spiritual reading.  Maybe you need to sing.  Maybe you need to take a few more minutes each day for prayer.  Maybe you need to get back to nature.  Maybe you need some creative time.

Or maybe you just need to be patient and remember that you're in a down point in a cycle.  At some point, the wheel will turn and you will feel the presence of God again. 

Prayer for a Day of Many Meetings

Today is a day of many meetings. It's the kind of day in the life of an administrator that I like least.


We have an All-School meeting in the morning. Then we have a faculty meeting in the afternoon. I close my day at work by having a Library Committee meeting. And then, I head over to my church for a Church Council meeting.

In a way, I like having all the meetings done in one day. But just the thought of it exhausts me before the day even starts.

So, let me create a prayer for this day of many meetings:

God of community, on this day of many meetings, I pray for good spirits and a cheerful attitude.  Let me remember how lucky I am.  Let me offer prayers for all I will see today.  Let us remember all who are not so fortunate, among them those who have no jobs that require meetings.  Let us stay even-tempered and optimistic, even as the news we may get may tempt us to other paths  Keep us all in your loving care and shape us to be like you.

Vacation Bible School and Social Justice

A week ago, I'd have been gearing up for Vacation Bible School.  You might think a scene like the one below, from night #1 where we're working with air-dry clay, would be first and foremost in my memory.

But I find myself instead thinking of our social justice project.  Each night, we collected money to send to Lutheran World Relief to build wells in countries where people don't have easy access to clean water.

We set it up as a competition between the boys and the girls.  Below, you see the bulletin board at the beginning of the competition.  At the opening session, we collected money in buckets, and then counted the money and charted the progress.

In years' past, it's been a competition where if the girls won, two girls would be selected to throw pies at specified adults (below, you see our pastor being a good sport).  This year, we had one boy and one girl.  It makes for memorable fundraising.

But we're not just raising money for the sake of raising money.  Along the way, we're doing some educating about the state of the rest of the world.  We're teaching gratitude for the good life that we have, the easy conveniences that don't even register in our consciousness.  I can drink water from a faucet without much worry about infection:  much of the world's inhabitants can't say that.

Will the children remember?  I think so--and if a pie in the face makes it more memorable, then it's worth the extravagance.