Eighteenth and Nineteenth Visits to the Spiritual Director

Two years ago, I went to my first meeting with the spiritual director.  It was our getting to know you meeting, and from there, we both decided to work together.  Faithful readers of this blog may have noticed that I have done a write up each time I visit her.  In part, I did that because I wanted a record, both for myself and in case the spiritual direction certificate program asked about it.

I had always been interested in the idea of a spiritual director, but I had never had one of my own.  When I started the spiritual direction certificate program, I knew that it was a requirement that I find one.  On the whole, it's been a good experience.  I often hear my spiritual director ask me, "How are you praying about that?"

We've also done a lot of work on the idea of my need to control not only my life, but the choices of my loved ones.  We've talked a lot about how interference means that individuals don't get to do the healing and walk the path that they need to.

My eighteenth visit to my spiritual director was in December, and we talked about whether or not to continue seeing each other.  We were both willing, but my spiritual director did comment that she noticed that at times we were going deep into a subject, and she noticed that I would pull back.

I spent the last two months thinking about that trait of mine.  I immediately knew that she wasn't wrong about my tendency to back away from painful topics.  In large part, I knew that I would cry, and I didn't want to return to the office with a blotchy face.  And there's something about crying that makes me feel like I'm being a burden to whomever is watching me cry, even as I realize that those people aren't likely to feel that way about me.  Part of it is exhaustion because I'm usually covering the same emotional territory, and I'm just ready to be done with it.

Aren't I spiritually developed and evolved yet?

Yes, I do realize that most types of development more represent a spiral than a straight line.  Sigh.

When I visited my spiritual director on Thursday, our nineteenth visit, I returned to the question about vulnerability and my tendency to back away.  It was a fruitful conversation, as was the rest of our conversation.  Between our 18th and 19th visits, lots had happened:  we sold our house, and I was severed from my full-time job.  Neither event was unexpected, but the timeline wasn't clear at my 18th visit.

As I drove home, I heard a bit of President Biden's press conference about the U.S. response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine.  I was impressed with how resolute he sounded, how calm, how firm.  I thought of ancient prophets.  Would I have thought of ancient prophets if I hadn't been working on several projects for a seminary class?  Probably.

After dinner, before my Thursday night class, we went out to the rooftop deck of our parking garage to see the sun set.  I thought about my spiritual director's most common question and that night, the way that we prayed about it all was to sing "Dona Nobis Pacem."

Prophetic Street Theatre

I began yesterday feeling a bit of despair knowing that I had to write a short discussion post on Ezekiel and feeling like I had absolutely nothing to say about that prophet.  The assignment also included this bit:   "Where do you find prophetic street theater today?"  I knew what I wanted to say about that part, but Ezekiel?  Happily, once I looked at the passages from the prophet and looked back over my class notes, I was able to formulate an approach.

I was buoyed by getting my grade for my Jeremiah project, which required us to imagine ourselves as a talk show host like Ellen or Oprah and how we would interview Jeremiah.  This discussion post required a video, not a piece of writing.  I created a very short video, posted it, and spent time worrying that I had done it all wrong.  I imagined my professor saying, "Well, as a piece of creative writing, this is great, but as a response to this assignment, she's out of her depth.

Happily, my professor did not feel that way.  Here's the response that I got, along with the score of 100/100:  

"This is good, creative work, Kristin. Your video demonstrates understanding of the nature of prophets and prophecy. It also considers the larger social context of Jeremiah where you reflect on how "the geopolitical business" is a blunt instrument.

Good use of Brueggemann about grieving coming before resurrecting."

I spent some time yesterday trying to figure out how to export the video out of Blackboard (Wesley's Learning Management System) so that I could share it or keep it.  Alas, so far, I haven't figured out how to do that.  I was able to download a transcript, so at least there's that.

In the middle of the day, my spouse's brother and his wife came over for lunch.  Our grown niece (daughter of spouse's sister) came over too, and we had a delightful time.  When they came in January, we made a burrito/fajita buffet, and that worked so well that we just did a repeat.  It's a great way to feed people with a variety of food needs and preferences.  And it leaves us delicious leftovers!

When we went out on the parking deck to watch the sun set (and for me to sing silently "Dona Nobis Pachem"), I heard lots of horns honking, sustained honking, which I thought was odd.  When I went out onto our balcony a bit later, I continued to hear honking, so I went back to the parking deck, which has a better view.  I heard some chanting.  Was there some kind of demonstration in the Arts Park?

My spouse and I decided to go see.  Lo and behold, there was quite a gathering:

There was a presentation from the stage, mostly in Ukrainian.  

There were people draped in Ukrainian flags and wearing sky blue and yellow:

I saw a wide variety of signs.  I did wonder if they were all saying the same things.  The "Choose Peace" and "No war" signs--what did they suggest that Ukraine do?  Or was it about the U.S. not sending troops?  I did not engage in this kind of conversation.

I was most enchanted by the art project.  People brought sidewalk chalk for the children and the children got right to work decorating the pavement.

 

As I watched the festivities/protest, my mind went back to the discussion post I wrote earlier.  I thought about writing an additional post to talk about the street theatre that I was seeing, but I decided against that path.

Still, I thought of my professor's question as I walked back through the empty Arts Park this morning.  I went out for my walk and felt a few sprinkles, and I knew the chalk marks wouldn't last for long.  I walked through the pleas for peace, the flowers and the flags, the vow to stand with Ukraine.  As I prayed (for peace, for wisdom, for courage), I thought of the promises of some of the ancient prophets, like this one, in Isaiah 61: 4:

"They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations."

The Urge to Knit Socks on the Second Day

 On Friday night, I wrote this Facebook post which I then shortened into a tweet:  "I have this strange urge to knit socks for the war effort. I realize that there is no such war effort yet, and that there are factory produced socks that will be much better for any war effort yet to come than anything that I can knit. But still, the urge to knit is strong--and I prefer to crochet, so I find it even stranger that I have a yearning to knit."

Various friends responded to remind me of the other things I might knit/crochet for other populations that need care, or other ways, like planting seeds, I could show defiant hope in the face of geopolitical madness.  Indeed, we did contribute to a fundraising campaign of a teenager that we know at church who is raising funds for further schooling.  Later this week-end, I will give money to Lutheran World Relief, as I always do, when there's a crisis.

But giving money seems like such a small thing to do, even as I know that money to assist refugees will be important.  I realize that no one needs the lumpy socks I would create, but it would keep my hands busy.  I am not going to fly to Europe to make my way east to fight.  I am a middle-aged woman with arthritic feet and limited ability with weapons.  I am not going to be the freedom fighter/spy who defeats Vladimir Putin; I do not have that level of skill or beauty.

Of course, it's not going to be a "normal" war, whatever that means.  It will not be won with socks or victory gardens or spies who pass secrets--maybe.  In an opinion piece in The New York Times, Thomas L. Friedman says, "This is the first war that will be covered on TikTok by super-empowered individuals armed only with smartphones, so acts of brutality will be documented and broadcast worldwide without any editors or filters. On the first day of the war, we saw invading Russian tank units unexpectedly being exposed by Google maps, because Google wanted to alert drivers that the Russian armor was causing traffic jams."

Last night we went to the top floor of the parking garage to watch the sun set.  My spouse brought his violin, and I brought our copy of With One Voice, which has the music to "Dona Nobis Pacem."  I thought of people playing their instruments in the  rubble of past cities torn apart by war (Sarajevo?  Did it really happen or was it a scene from a movie?).  I watched people leaving their offices and other people arriving for Friday night festivities.  My spouse played his violin, I prayed, and the sun set on the second day of this war-like situation.  

On the First Day of a Land War in Europe

Let me capture some vignettes from the first day of a full scale invasion of a sovereign nation in Europe; Russia invaded Ukraine in a hot war kind of way yesterday.  Years from now, we may look back on these hours/days/weeks as the last or the first of some sort of new world order/ruins of old world order.  

--Periodically throughout the day yesterday, I looked at the brilliant blue sky with its beautiful cloud sculptures.  I thought of ICBMs and wondered where Russia has them pointed these days.  I can still sing all the words to Sting's "Russians," or at least the refrain.  Does Putin have children?  Can you imagine having Putin as your dad?

--My friend sent me this message:  "I wish I could come over and we could have tea and bake things and not be in wwIII"; I responded, "I can arrange tea and baking but there may only be 1 man who can help with the decision not to go towards WWIII--and I don't think Putin shares our love of tea and baking."  I spent the rest of the day thinking about tea and scones with Putin and remembering a different song composed by Sting, "Tea in the Sahara."  

----My friend and I also shared an interesting exchange about women in previous world wars, plucky women in war rooms, and what would that look like today?

--I thought about electromagnetic pulses and all the ways our data can be destroyed.  I asked my spouse if we should take a screen shot of our bank balance page, print it out, and save it.  My spouse told me about the special nuclear weapon that Russia has that will do something to the stratosphere and wipe out humanity immediately.  I said, "So I'm hearing you say we don't need to bother printing proof of our bank balance?"

--My spouse wrote his thesis for his MA in Philosophy on the morality of the ambiguous bluff in a world of nuclear weapons.  It may have been the last academic writing to refer to the Soviet Union, which was coming apart in those days, but no one could have imagined this world we currently inhabit.

--I had an appointment with my spiritual director yesterday, who lives in Cutler Bay, which is about 45 miles from my house.  What if Putin did something spectacularly stupid?  I decided to make the trip; if Putin is going to do something so spectacularly stupid that I am stranded and have to walk home, it probably won't be on the first day of the invasion of Ukraine.

--It was a fruitful appointment.  I'm glad I went.  I'm glad I made it home.

--I listened to a bit of Biden's press conference.  I thought about all the Russian investment in the South Florida area.  So far, no analysts have thought about what sanctions might mean for the real estate market, at least no analysts that I've read/heard.  If the bottom falls out of the real estate market, I predicted it here first.

--My spouse cooked while I was away.  He took a can of coconut milk, reduced it, and made a spectacular sauce for our rainbow trout that I got in the freezer case of Trader Joes.  I bought the fish months ago, when an actual invasion of Ukraine seemed like a very remote possibility. 

----My sister called to try to figure out which nuclear war movie from the 80's she was remembering.  I am inordinately proud of the fact that I was able to tell her.

--It is strange to discover that normal life continues in the face of a land war in Europe:  dishes must be washed, and I had class to attend last night.  Before I settled in front of my computer, we went to the parking deck, to the top floor that is open to the sky.  From our perch seven stories above the city streets, we watched the sun set.  We sang "Dona Nobis Pacem."

--I will continue to sing that prayer for peace, today and every day.

Scholarship

 It looks like the invasion of Ukraine is underway.  In some ways, I'm not surprised.  Putin is not a subtle man, and he's been pretty clear about his intent.  In some ways, I'm shaking my head and saying, "Wait.  We're not done with the global pandemic part of the apocalyptic narrative.  Now we're moving to a land war in Europe?  In Europe????"

In the face of this bad news, it seems a bit frivolous to write about a piece of good news that I got yesterday:  I got a scholarship to help with my seminary studies!  But I will have plenty of time to write about Ukraine.  I don't know that I'll get a scholarship on a regular basis, so let me take a moment and preserve this piece of good news.

It's a scholarship for seminary students offered by WELCA (Women of the ELCA, the largest, most liberal branch of Lutherans in the U.S.).  In the days to come, the group will let me know how much they will be giving me, once they know how much money they have to distribute.  

It's not a scholarship based on need, and it's not really based on merit, although one must have a certain amount of merit to be in a seminary program.  I see it as affirmation, and I'm grateful for it.

I almost didn't apply.  I had written myself notes, and still, the Dec. 15 deadline snuck up on me.  And then, the PDF wouldn't let me fill in the various fields.  I answered one question, and all the question boxes auto-filled with the answer.

So I filled in the application in a more old-fashioned way.  I didn't write by hand, although I was tempted.  I filled out one box, printed the form, filled out another field, printed, and so on.  And then I literally cut and pasted the answers onto a new form.

I wasn't sure I was really eligible.  I'm affiliated with a Lutheran seminary, but I'm taking classes at a Methodist seminary.  My church had a WELCA group that came to a screeching halt with the start of the pandemic, and we haven't really gotten it restarted.  Indeed, we're still pivoting back to remote worship on a regular basis.  But I decided to answer the questions honestly in my application and let the people in charge decide if I was eligible.

Yesterday I got the news that I was eligible and that I was one of three applicants to get a scholarship.  Hurrah!  And then I settled back into seminary studies.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, February 27, 2022:

First Reading: Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm: Psalm 99

Second Reading: 2 Corinthians 3:12--4:2

Gospel: Luke 9:28-36 [37-43a]

Here we are, the final Sunday before Lent begins. Transfiguration Sunday gives us a chance to wrestle with an essential question: who is this Christ? Why worship this guy?

Do we worship Christ because of his glory? The mystical elements of Transfiguration Sunday dazzle us and threaten to overshadow the rest of the story. What a magnificent tale! Moses and Elijah appear and along with Christ, they are transformed into glowing creatures. A voice booms down reminding us of Christ's chosen and elevated status.

It's easy to understand Peter's response: we'll stay on the mountain, we'll build booths! It's easy to understand why the disciples stay quiet about this mystical experience.

Jesus then heals a child; he's a success where his disciples have failed.

Do we worship God in the hopes of harnessing this kind of transfiguring power? It's easy to understand this impulse. But much of the Bible warns us against this impulse.

Jesus know that he's on a collision course with the powers that rule the world. The disciples argue about who is greatest, and Jesus reminds him of the nature of his ministry: to be least.

For those of us who worship Christ because we want transfiguration, it's important to remember what kind of transfiguration we're going to get. We're not likely to get worldly power, money, or fame because we're Christians--in fact, it will be just the opposite.

Will we get healing? Maybe. Will we be creatures that glow with an otherworldly light? Metaphorically. Can we charge admission and get rich from our spiritual beliefs? Go back and reread the Gospels, and see what Jesus has to say about wealth.

Ah, Transfiguration Sunday which leads us to Mardi Gras, a few last hurrahs before the serious season of Lent, that season of ash and penitence. Let us stay here in this glow.

But let us not forget the path before us, the path that brings us off the mountain and into service. Let us not confuse the mountain top for the true relationship that God offers us.

World Orders and Ancient Prophets

 Almost an hour ago, I wrote this tweet:  "Thinking about geopolitical conflicts of my youth, watching young versions of old rock stars in 'Sun City' video, thinking about Reagan and constructive engagement, looking at a map of Ukraine/E. Europe, feeling doomed, writing blog posts into the void/madness."

But I have yet to actually write a blog post.  I have toggled between opinion/analysis pieces and old videos:  "Sun City," "Silver and Gold," and "No Easy Walk to Freedom," with a side trip to "El Salvador," a Peter, Paul, and Mary gem that I had forgotten.  I have resisted the temptation to revisit old videos, like The Day After, although the last line of Timothy Snyder's piece in The Atlantic made me want to do just that (his lines:  "The creativity and historical awareness of the Biden administration has made war costlier for Russia. Of course, there might be another level to consider: that the mobilization (or even an invasion) is meant to divert our attention from something else.").

I have heard the drumbeats of war, and I've heard every analyst declare that we will not send U.S. youths to die for Ukraine.  I've heard these similar sentiments my whole life.  What that really means is that we'll be careful not to show the images of caskets on TV.

I read this article in The New York Times which includes a very useful map of Eastern Europe and Russia, and I've thought, we're doomed.  In the days before George H. W. Bush's excursion to protect Kuwait, I went out to put gas in my car.  In these days of underemployment, I don't drive much, so I don't really need gas.  As I've been on my morning and afternoon walks, I've listened to accents, and I'm realizing how much more I'm hearing accents from Eastern Europe than from Latin America.  My pattern-making mind wants to see the larger picture.

I want to believe that saner minds will prevail, but I look at Putin and I see the bad boyfriends and abusive husbands that are the worst kind of afflictions for female safety.  He looks out and sees a world of enemies.  Here's another gem from Timothy Snyder's piece:  "However that may be, the habit of provocation might be making it harder for Putin to read the outside world. Just because you live in a house of mirrors does not mean that you can find the exit."

I think about the nuclear weapons, and I know that if we have nuclear exchanges of any size, these past two years of pandemic will look like a time of bliss.  But I also know that there have been many other times when my fearful brain has thought about the possibility of apocalypse, and the world walked back from that brink.

May we be at a similar time, backing away from this precipice.  

Now I will go for my walk as if the world isn't hanging by a slender thread.  I will do my seminary homework due today analyzing Paul's letter to the Galatians.  I will then turn to my project that asks us to consider the ancient Hebrew prophets and the role of the prophet today.  That project could go in so many ways.  I will let the drumbeats of war remind me to pray throughout today.

Ponderings on Presidents Day

 Some assorting ponderings on Presidents Day--will they hold together as a post?  Yes.  As an extended essay?  Probably not, hence the format.

--While I like having less traffic on a Monday morning walk, I feel this odd resentment.  As an underemployed person, if everyone has a work day off, one of the benefits of underemployment seems to disappear.  Happily it will return tomorrow.

--Does this Ukraine tension underscore the need for strong presidential leadership or show the futility of wishing for it?

--Anne Applebaum's essay headline in The Atlantic sums up Ukraine nicely (accurately?):  "There Are No Chamberlains in this Story:  But there are no Churchills, either. And Ukraine will fight alone."  The bleakness of this headline makes me feel a piercing sorrow.  You can read the whole essay here.

--Why would any gathering of foreign leaders happen in Munich ever again?  The symbolism and the optics seem impossibly bad.  Of course, that might change, depending on if this week-end's meeting accomplishes something we can't see right now.

--The older I get, the more I realize that people in leadership positions are by and large, just regular folks, thrust into leadership position.  Maybe they have special skills.  Maybe they will rise to the occasion.  Maybe not.

--I understand why we want a president who will save us.  But viewed one way, there have been very few political leaders who were able to pull that off. 

--It's more likely that history will be made by groups of ordinary people, people not in charge on a national level, people making change on a regular basis.

--And we'll only remember if we have people who are writing it all down and/or recording those efforts in some way.

Who First Told You About Jesus?

Our online service is made up of recorded chunks that our pastor puts together and streams at the given time. It's a cool concept, as it allows many of us to participate.

This week, my pastor asked several of us to tell the story of who first told us about Jesus.  I said sure, but I warned that my answer was fairly standard:  my parents.

My pastor said that my answer was rare, which intrigued me.  Is it that rare to have grow up in a home where one's parents don't talk about Jesus?  I could see it if I grew up in a non-Christian home, but my pastor says that it's not as common as I thought.

Here is what I recorded:

Saturday Doubts

 I am in a bit of a funk this morning.  Yesterday morning, I was having fun, thinking of my approach to this seminary assignment:

Pretend that you are Oprah Winfrey, Ellen DeGeneres, Stephen Colbert, Maria Bartiromo, Tavis Smiley or some other TV/radio host and you are going to interview the prophet Jeremiah on your show. What question would you ask him and why? How do you think he might answer that question and why? Be creative AND be sure to include texts/quotes from Jeremiah and information from the assigned readings to support your points as either the interviewer or Jeremiah. 

But this morning, I am second guessing myself.

I spent much of yesterday afternoon working on a video.  I typed out the script I planned to follow, and then I spent some time practicing.  I knew that 4 minutes max was the guideline for the time we had, so I wanted to be sure.

I must have done at least 20 videos--grrr.  In a way, though, it was a plus, because I had the script mostly memorized by the time I did the final take.

What's got me in my funk right now is that the final take doesn't have to be the final take.  I did already submit it to the Discussion thread, but I could submit another version.  I have spent the past few hours thinking of how I could have done it differently.  

I have also spent some time thinking about the video that I was planning yesterday morning and what I ended up with.  I had this idea for costume changes, but I gave up on that.  In the end, when Jeremiah talked, I had on a pair of sunglasses; I took them off for the announcer speaking.

I tried to walk a line between explaining too much and leaving some things unexplained.  For example, I wrote lines for Jeremiah when asked about Jeremiah and God having lunch on a regular basis:

"You were expecting what? A burning bush? That would upset my neighbors. Sure, we have lunch. There’s a great kosher deli that you should check out before you leave. They have the best strudel. It’s like the word of the Lord made into pastry."

I didn't explain that Jeremiah had a vision of eating the words of God.  Was I too subtle?

I did do what the assignment required in terms of referring to the book of Jeremiah and the readings and lecture videos.  Did I do enough to to explain the why of the question? I no longer know.

I could spend the morning creating an alternate version and not be any more reassured.  I like my final video, but I do see all the ways it could be better.  I know that I could spend the whole morning and not end up with something that would take away all my doubts.

And here is the larger issue:  I have other seminary work to do.  This discussion post is not a larger project.  I know that on one level, I'm overthinking it.  On another level, I am still so unsure of my ability to deliver what my professor wants, particularly when it comes to video.  I am much more comfortable with my writing skills.

I will likely leave my effort as it is and trust that it will be O.K.  Time to move along.

Creative Writing in Seminary

 I've been enjoying my seminary writing, even though it's not exactly the kind of writing I would be doing anyway.  Wesley Theological Seminary has created an exegesis template which has elements of what I've done before, like the background of me as a reader, combined with tasks I've never done, like analyzing some of the Greek words.  Much of our theological writing follows that template, or it's more like a response or class homework that I wouldn't be writing for a blog post.

This week, I've been enjoying the chance to do some creative writing.  Here's our assignment for Hebrew Bible class:

Pretend that you are Oprah Winfrey, Ellen DeGeneres, Stephen Colbert, Maria Bartiromo, Tavis Smiley or some other TV/radio host and you are going to interview the prophet Jeremiah on your show. What question would you ask him and why? How do you think he might answer that question and why? Be creative AND be sure to include texts/quotes from Jeremiah and information from the assigned readings to support your points as either the interviewer or Jeremiah. 

I'm part of the half of class that has to do a video, but past experience has showed me that having a script is a good idea, so I'm writing it out.  Fun!

I am also planning a creative project for my Speaking of God in a Secular Age class.  Yesterday, I made this proposal:

---

The syllabus says that we can propose a creative project in lieu of a critical essay, and I have a proposal.

Several years ago, I read this interview with the poet Jericho Brown.  I was intrigued by his description of how he wrote his duplexes:

--------

PP: It's so interesting to hear you mention this process. As I was reading, I was definitely curious about the form’s origin story.

JB: With all my poems, and with the duplexes especially, but with all my poems, I really just try to use everything I have. I really want to imagine a world in which we have everything we need. And if I can imagine that world in my poems, I hope I can make that world come true in real life. People talk about what they do in their writing day or what they do with their writing time. One of the things that I’m doing is I’m really excavating lines that go back. There are lines in "The Tradition" that go as far back as 1999, and I’m going back and looking at all of those lines and trying to put them together, trying to use what I couldn’t use before because I should know now. I should be a better poet now than I was then, and yet, even then I was a poet and therefore, I had lines that worked. I just didn’t know how to make them work in a poem.

So that’s how the duplexes were made. I quite literally took every line that I had ever written in a poem that didn’t work, or every line that wasn’t yet in a poem that was 9-11 syllables long, and I put them all in a file. I printed them out. I cut them up. And I started working with them as little slips of paper.

---------

Back to me:

When I first read that interview, I wanted to try that technique; I, too, am a poet with lots of lines in lots of poems that never came to fruition.  I love the idea of printing the lines, cutting them out, and arranging them to see how they speak to each other.  So far, I have never tried his approach, so this class seems like a great opportunity to do that.  I would also be happy to write a process paper to go along with the poem sequence to explain my approach and how I experienced the creative process.

I propose that I will create 15-25 duplexes, each line 9-12 syllables, each duplex 14 lines long.  In an ideal world, they would speak to each other and hold together as a small collection, a chapbook of poems.  But even if they don't work as a chapbook collection, the process of creating the series will be valuable.  Since the work of Jericho Brown features prominently in this course, this creative approach will give me an even greater appreciation for his work and what he has accomplished.

I am open to modifying this proposal, and I look forward to your input. 

---

My teacher responded:

---

I love this idea! But 15–25 duplexes is an ambition target. I would suggest 5 as it's a very complex and challenging form, and I will ask you to also write a theological reflection on the process of writing them. Let's touch base soon about details.

---

I feel like the luckiest seminary student in the whole world!

The Yearnings of the Trees

As part of an online journaling group organized by Mepkin Abbey, I am rereading Thomas Merton's New Seeds of Contemplation.  Yesterday, I was struck by chapter 5, which begins with this sentence:  "A tree gives glory to God by being a tree" (p. 29 in my very old paperback edition that once belonged to my parents and originally cost $2.45).

Merton jumps off from that sentence to talk about humans and our false selves and our true self, about identity and how we figure out our identity.  This morning, Merton's italicized sentence jumped out at me:  "The seeds that are planted in my liberty at every moment, by God's will, are the seeds of my own identity, my own reality, my own happiness, my own sanctity" (italics Merton's, p. 33).

One of the benefits of this journaling group is that we all notice different elements of the text.  One of our group members talked about the image of God blowing the seeds of our identity; the gentleness of the image struck me.

Merton is an interesting writer in that he sometimes uses the charged language of sin, but in this case, he's talking about sin as never being in touch with our true selves, "to refuse the fullness of my existence" (p. 33).

But how do we do this?  Merton says, "Ultimately the only way I can be myself is to become identified with Him in Whom is hidden the reason and fulfillment of my existence" (pp. 35-36).  For those hoping that Merton will give the easy 3 step plan, that's not going to happen.  Merton says that it's not an easy task, that it's likely going to be a lifelong project.

Furthemore, in chapter 5, Merton says we can't do it on our own, that the only one who can help us find God is God.  It's the kind of round and round rhetoric that makes me want to hurl the book across the room, and I know that I am not alone in this.

But I return to the idea of that tree giving glory to God by being a tree.  We don't think of trees as longing to be anything other than a tree.  But that sentence made me think about the tree that wishes it could be something else, a different variety of tree perhaps, the pine tree wishing it could be a willow.  

I also thought of the tree longing to be something completely different, which may be closer to what Merton is thinking about, the tree that yearns to be a cloud or the ocean.  Do many of us long to be something so different from our true nature that we might be a tree wishing to be the ocean?  

It's an interesting way of thinking about our endless self-improvement projects.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, February 20, 2022:


First reading
Genesis 45:3-11, 15

Psalm
Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40

Second reading
1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50

Gospel
Luke 6:27-38


Turn the other cheek. Give up your clothes if asked. This Sunday we get to Luke's version of texts which have been so misunderstood through the centuries that it’s hard to remember what Jesus was really saying. Jesus was NOT saying to let your abuser batter you day in and day out. Jesus was not instructing us to let evil steamroll right over us. Jesus was not even calling us to pacifism, a stoic acceptance of brutality that will buy us a better condo in Heaven for enduring hell on earth.

No, these are resistance texts. Yes, resistance texts.

These are texts that show us how to resist evil in such a way that evil elements will not turn around and destroy us. Likewise, these are texts that show us how to resist evil in such a way that we don’t become the evil that we are resisting.

It’s important to remember that the culture of Jesus was a vastly different culture. It was a culture based on honor. It was a culture based on social hierarchy. It was also a culture ruled by Romans who were not going to tolerate social unrest, Romans who would not hesitate to slaughter dissenters.

Jesus shows us how to live in this world, how to resist evil without being destroyed by evil. If you want to read the best text on this idea, I recommend Walter Wink’s Engaging the Powers: Discernment and Resistance in a World of Domination. It is one of the best books of theology I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot of theology.

Let’s focus on the turning of the other cheek, since this passage is so well known. Notice that Jesus gives specific cheeks in specific order. That’s a detail lost on us, but it wouldn’t have been lost on the people who heard Jesus’ instructions. Walter Wink explains today's Gospel passage in great detail to show that Jesus doesn't advocate passivity but instead shows a way to maintain one's dignity in the face of overbearing oppression.

For those of you who would sneer at the idea of resistance working in our evil, evil world, I would say that nonviolent resistance can bring mighty social change.

Walter Wink, writing in 1993, notes, “In 1989 alone, there were thirteen nations that underwent non-violent revolutions. All of them successful except one, China. That year 1.7 billion people were engaged in national non-violent revolutions. That is a third of humanity. If you throw in all of the other non-violent revolutions in all the other nations in this century [the 20th], you get the astonishing figure of 3.34 billion people involved in non-violent revolutions. That is two-thirds of the human race. No one can ever again say that non-violence doesn't work. It has been working like crazy. It is time the Christian churches got involved in this revolution because what is happening in the world is that the world itself is discovering the truth of Jesus' teaching, and here we come in the church, bringing up the rear.” And of course, more lately we can point to a variety of revolutions which have fairly peacefully gotten rid of dictators who had been in power for decades.

Maybe we are not up for the task of resistance, which can be scary and can lead us to unexpected places. At the very least, we can pray. We can pray for those people who are doing the heavy lifting of resistance. We can pray for those who are transforming their societies for good, whether they live in our country or on the other side of the planet. We can pray for the softening of the hearts of the hard ones. We can pray that we have the wisdom to recognize evil when we see it. We can pray that we have the courage to resist evil in whatever forms it comes to us.

Field Notes

 When I was a child, one of my favorite books was Harriet the Spy. I would have had the book with the  cover that looked like this one I found in a Wikipedia article: 

I saw Harriet both as inspiration and cautionary tale.  I wanted to keep a notebook of observations, the way that she did, but the 1970's suburbs of Montgomery, Alabama did not lend themselves to the same kind of field notes that Harriet kept in the city of New York.  I didn't want to make notes about my classmates; even as I read about Harriet's exploits, I knew that nothing good would come of writing snarky and mean comments about one's classmates.

Still, there's something compelling about the process of keeping a field journal of sorts.  Years ago, one of my friends had a teenage girl who took her old canoe out on one of the tiny lakes that is part lake, part drainage area.  Every day, she sat in her canoe and made notes about the birds she saw, about the plants that grew, about the water quality.  Here, too, I wanted to follow her example, but I didn't have a lake or a canoe.

Yesterday, I sat down to make sense of an assignment for my Spiritual Formation for Ministry seminary class.  A large part of this class trains us to be neutral observers, which is not as easy as it might sound.  We observe without judging, without making suggestions, without imposing meaning.  And you might ask, like my spouse did, why it's important for ministry, and I would have trouble explaining, but some part of me understands, even as I can't put it into words.

In a non-pandemic world, we would be given a social service type agency and observe them at work.  Because we're taking the course online during a pandemic, our task is to go to any setting that's easy for us and make observations.  We are to do this several different times and to use one of the approaches in the resources for this module. We could approach the task from a quantitative angle:  counting and categorizing.  We could map the location--seating charts or traditional maps.  We could listen to conversations.  We could do something more prayerful and/or meditative:  lectio vicinitas.   

I decided to use this opportunity to get out of the condo and take a walk around the Arts Park across the street.  So yesterday at 1:43 p.m., I took my small, red notebook and walked the perimeter of the park.  It was Valentine's Day, so I saw couples having a picnic in the middle of the day.  I saw teenagers sequestered beneath some playground equipment.  I saw kids on bikes, and I saw more stuffed animals than I expected, fewer real animals.

It was fun to take notes in my notebook, although the making meaning part of my brain kept trying to interpret:  why so many police?  Why so many teenagers on a school day?  Where were the birds?  Why so much traffic on Highway 1 which circles the park?    What would the founder of the city think about all these tall condo buildings that now ring the park that has a dedication to him?

The creative writing part of my brain wanted to make poems and stories.  The good girl part of my brain wondered if anyone wondered what this middle-aged white woman was doing as she walked the park and took notes.

I thought of Harriet the Spy and all the characters, both fictional and real, who have spent so much time keeping a field journal.  When I was a child, reading about those characters, it seemed so easy.  In a way, it is.  In other ways, it is not.

The Feast Day of Saint Valentine

Here's one of those strange feast days, a feast day that's more popular in the general culture than it is in the church culture that pays attention to saints and their days. Those of us in religious circles might spend some time thinking about this feast day and the ways we celebrate it, both within our religious cultures and in popular culture. 

I've often thought that marriage at its best is sacramental: it demonstrates to me in a way that few other things can how deeply God loves me. If my spouse's love for me is but a pale shadow of the way God loves me, then I am rich in love indeed.  I use the word marriage cautiously. I don't mean it the way that some Christians do. I mean simply a love relationship between adults that is covenantal and permanent in nature.

To me, this feast day has morphed into a festival that is essentially a manufactured holiday, yet another one, designed to make us feel like we must spend gobs and gobs of money to demonstrate our love.

Every day, ideally, should be Valentine's Day, a day in which we try to remind our loved ones how much we care--and not by buying flowers, dinners out, candy, and jewelry. We show that we love by our actions: our care, our putting our own needs in the backseat, our concern, our gentle touch, our loving remarks.

And sustained by the love that sustains in our homes, we can go out to give this love to the world which so desperately needs it, to be a beacon that shows evidence of God's love.

On this Valentine's Day, let us go out into the world, living sacraments, to be Valentines to one another, to show a weary world the wonders of God's love.

Visio Divina in Seminary Class

One of the cool things about being in a seminary class is that we can actually engage in spiritual practices and not just talk about them.  On Wednesday, in my Spiritual Formation for Ministry class, we did a session of Visio Divina, after reading Henri Nouwen who talked about this practice.

I reached for my sketchbook, but it wasn't going to be that kind of Visio Divina. It's a class conducted via Zoom, so our teacher pulled up this image, "Emmaus," by Emmanuel Garibay:

On Wednesday, we looked at this image, while our teacher led us through the meditation.  "I invite you to . . ."--much of what our teacher offered was preceded by this phrase.  She invited us to focus on different parts of the image.  She invited us to close our eyes.  She invited us to consider where we see God in this image.  She invited us to consider what God was saying to us in this image.

Then we broke into small groups.  My group was me, another woman, and a man who is also in my CD group, so I knew him.  He's a Seventh Day Adventist, so I wasn't surprised to hear him say that he found the image too disturbing to even have it on his screen.  I talked about how it was hard for me to meditate on the image because I wanted to analyze it, especially the background, which reminded me of both depictions of Hell and Pentecost.

We came back together as a group to discuss.  Not surprisingly, we had a wide range of experiences.  Our teacher reminded us that "God will reveal Godself in any image."  She suggested we try it with images out of the news.  Interesting!

I'd like to try this again, only this time with a less unsettling image.  I found it hard to shut up my analytical brain long enough to let God, or anyone else, speak to me through the image that we used on Wednesday night.  But I'm not unhappy to have had the experience--or to have found the work of an artist whom I hadn't heard of before Wednesday night.

If your brain is like mine and wants more insight into both the artist and the art, this essay by Rob Pattendon in Image is a great place to start.

Singing and Saying The Lord's Prayer

Back when I had my full-time job, I told my pastor that I couldn't do sermons for our February online services because they take too much time for me to pull together, and I was having trouble staying on top of my seminary classes.  So my pastor asked me to do the Lord's Prayer for this Sunday. 

I said yes, because I knew I could get that done fairly quickly.  Then I was severed from my full-time job, so I thought about doing something more complicated than just reading the Lord's Prayer.  I asked my spouse if he wanted to play violin in the background.

He was less interested in that, but he did come up with a cool idea.  He would hum Malotte's version of The Lord's Prayer, while I read a newer version.  We have used the New Zealand Anglican version, so I chose that. I'll put that version at the end of this post.

Here's the video we made:

It's not exactly what I had in mind--I didn't think the plug would be so visible.  But in a way, it works as a symbol.  I'm not sure everyone will know what my spouse is humming, but that's OK too.

We thought about doing multiple takes, but we knew that we don't have to tools to create something that much better--we don't have a recording studio or soundproofing or the know how to edit and improve a clip of video.  Plus, the building where we rent our condo is conducting fire alarm testing all week, so I wanted to complete the recording before it got noisy.

At the end of the day, we went to the rooftop parking garage to see the sunset.  It was stunning, and we stood on the roof, singing the Malotte Lord's Prayer.  I watched people 6 stories below us, parking their cars for a night on the town, getting into their cars at the end of the work day.  Did they hear us?  No one looked up, so I'm guessing that they didn't.  But I liked the idea that they might.  I did wonder how our voices might transform as it moved through the air.  Would we sound more or less in tune?   Would people wonder who was singing?  We also sang "Angels We Have Heard on High" as the sunset shifted to drizzling twilight.  It was a great way to end the day.

We may do it again.  Maybe it will become our evensong practice.

The New Zealand Anglican Lord's Prayer

Eternal Spirit, Earth-maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,
Source of all that is and that shall be,
Father and Mother of us all,
Loving God, in whom is heaven:

The hallowing of your name echo through the universe!
The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the world!
Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!
Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.

With the bread we need for today, feed us.
In the hurts we absorb from one another, forgive us.
In times of temptation and test, strengthen us.
From trials too great to endure, spare us.
From the grip of all that is evil, free us.

For you reign in the glory of the power that is love, now and for ever.
Amen.

Possible Pilgrimage

Yesterday, I made this Facebook post:

"One of my seminary requirements requires credits in intercultural immersion, either done overseas or in the U.S. I just found out that in May of 2023, 2 of my professors will be leading an intercultural immersion trip to France where we will spend some time in Paris to recover from jet lag and then continue on to spend a week being part of the Taize community. The flyer says, 'Immerse yourself in monastic life at one of the world's most iconic sites of Christian pilgrimage.' Yes please!"

Immediately, many of my friends wrote to make sure that I knew that I should go.  Here is one of my favorites, from a friend I made through an online journaling class, a friend who had a similar seminary journey at midlife:  "I jumped on every chance to go somewhere as ‘intercultural’ work. I learned so much and met cool people. And i asked for credit for a trip to language school in Guatemala, and got it by journaling and reading some interesting books. Did you ever imagine what time and doors could open to you as you set out on this journey? Enjoy."

I found out about the opportunity because one of my seminary professors sent an e-mail of invitation to the whole class.  My first thought was that I couldn't go in May--and then I realized it's May of 2023.  Now, I could go in May of 2022, as I think about it; there's no full-time job keeping me here.  But it's easier to plan for May of 2023.

I hope to get class credit, but even if that's not possible, the trip itself seems reasonable in terms of anticipated cost:  $3,200 (Includes airfare, ground transport to/from Taize, meals, 3 nights stay in Paris, and the stay in Taize).  Even if I have to pay more to get class credit, it still seems reasonable.  I realize that I'm lucky; it seems reasonable because I have resources.  We've sold our house, so I have resources and fewer responsibilities.

I am also lucky in that I really love all of my seminary professors so far.  I completely trust their ability to lead this kind of trip and to make it even more worthwhile than it would be if I went on my own.  And I also feel lucky in that I really think that one of them meant it when she wrote to me, "I hope you can come!"

I hope so too.

The Three Year Plan? The 5-7 Year Plan? No Plan?

I find it interesting how many people say they believe in free will, but they also believe that God has a plan, and often they believe that God will engineer life circumstances to get a person to where God wants them to be.  Some people believe that God is moving them towards a wonderful vision of the future, and I understand why we want to believe in that kind of God.  

Last night, my small CD group (for my seminary Spiritual Formation class) met.  We had a devotional that talked about God breaking us to get us to the point where we will accept growth.  I resisted my first impulse, which was to proclaim, "This is bad, bad theology."  I do believe it's bad theology, but I also understand the religious tradition that embraces it.  I am trying not to be the seminarian that offends people from conservative traditions and shuts down conversation.

I did work my way around to expressing my discomfort with that idea of God.  Several other group members also had some problems with believing in that kind of God.  I also understand why someone who is going through some tough times would find it attractive to believe that there's a larger purpose.  I do believe in a God who can help us make the most out of bad situations, but I don't believe in a God who sends us difficult situations to break us, even if it's what helps us become better people.

I also wonder if the devotional had used a different verb than "break," would we have seen the concept a different way?

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of how God gets involved in our lives.  I do believe in free will, and I do understand that one of the natural outcomes of believing in free will means that I have to give up the idea of an omniscient, omnipotent God; if I have truly free will, God can't know how I will respond, and God can't interfere no matter how God might want to.  God might be able to intervene if I use my free will to ask for assistance, but if it involves someone else who hasn't asked for Divine assistance, God can't intervene.

When I was severed from my job last week, it was two days after my spouse and I had had a conversation about our future and how long it would take me to get through seminary given various scenarios.  I said, "If I'm working full-time, it will take me at least 5 to 7 years to finish seminary."  When I was severed two days later, I thought, maybe God is trying to tell me something; maybe God is saying, "I need you on the 3 year plan."

I don't really think that God put the idea to sever me in the minds of my former bosses.  But the events of the past several weeks could lead me to think that God had a plan to protect me.  Just 2 weeks earlier, we had sold our house, which might seem like part of a Divine plan.  Of course, we made the decision to put the house on the market back in May, when we saw how quickly the housing market was rising and we knew my job was likely to end either in September or December.

I interpret these events not as part of God's plan, since I don't believe God has a plan with that kind of specificity.  But someone who wanted to believe in that kind of God with a monthly plan for each and every one of us, I could spin the events of the past year to support that.

I wish I had some pithy way to wrap up all these threads to result in a beautiful weaving, but I don't.  After all, Christians have been discussing/arguing about the theology of free will for centuries.  If I was the kind of person who believed in a God who opens windows when doors slam shut, I'd conclude by saying that I'm interested to see what windows and doors open now.

Instead, I'll just say that I'm interested in what visions seem more possible, now that other visions have ended.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The reading for Sunday, February 13, 2022:


First reading
Jeremiah 17:5-10
Psalm
Psalm 1
Second reading
1 Corinthians 15:12-20
Gospel
Luke 6:17-26

We may feel that this Gospel is familiar; careful readers may see a difference between what we read this week in Luke, and the more common version of the Beatitudes we usually read in Matthew.

Luke begins similarly enough with 4 Blesseds: "Blessed are you who are _______." It sounds much more familiar than the way that Matthew says it: "Blessed are the ______."

Unlike the Beatitudes that we read in Matthew, in Luke, 4 blessings are followed by 4 woes: Woe to you who are rich, full, laughing, spoken highly of.

Is Jesus really cursing those of us who are wealthy and well-fed, those of us who are in a good place in our lives? That would not be the Jesus that I know. I don't usually wish I had a knowledge of Greek and a gospel written in Greek, but here I do. I wonder if there's a better interpretation of "woe."

One of the traditional approaches to this version of the Beatitudes is to say that this text shows Jesus upending the traditional order. Everything our culture teaches us about who is a winner and the vast lot of us who are losers--Jesus comes to tell us that in the Kingdom of God, we can look forward to a new social order.

That idea can lead us to lots of new questions: is this Kingdom of God Heaven? Is it an earthly Kingdom? Did it come when Jesus came to us 2000 years ago or is it still in the process of evolving?

And if we're more honest, those of us who are in a less-distressed/more comfortable part of our lives might wonder where our place will be. Do we need to give up all our money? Are our happy days numbered? Is Jesus reminding us that all is cyclical? What does Jesus really want from us?

These are the questions that have kept theologians busy for centuries. Some have said that if you were choosing the most important passages of the Gospels, we'd do well to choose this text. Some have called it a guidebook to the proper behavior of Christians. Is this text an updating of the Ten Commandments or the replacing? Or something else altogether?

For those of us who see the Bible as a guidebook for moral behavior, we might see ourselves challenged to approach the text in a new way. For those who see moral behavior as our ticket to Heaven, we might also be challenged to think differently.

Christ came to announce that God's plan for redeeming the world had begun. That plan involves our pre-death world, which is not just a place where we wait around until it's our turn to go to Heaven. No, this world is the one that God wants to redeem. Christ comes to invite us to be part of the redemptive plan.

Brunch and Church

Our church has shifted to online church until Lent, so yesterday we took advantage of the flexibility and went to brunch with friends.  Through the years, I have read many an article that tries to explain that brunch is church in its own unique way.  Every time I go to brunch, I think about how brunch is nothing like church at all--while at the same time, wishing that church could adopt some of the aspects of brunch.

Yesterday we went to brunch beside the ocean, the very busy Ft. Lauderdale beach scene.  It was an outdoor place, but under awnings and umbrellas, so we were somewhat protected from the heat.  There was lots of traffic zooming by, often with revving motors.  In some ways, the view was beautiful, if one looked beyond the crowded sidewalks, the crowded streets, the crowded beach.

It was not a view that reminds me of God, that takes me to a theological or spiritual place.  It was a view that made me weary:  all those people, most of them from somewhere else.  

The main thing that separates church from brunch is the cost.  Most of the people who go to my church would be unlikely to be comfortable affording the brunch that we went to yesterday:  $50 a person.  In some ways, given today's price of a dinner out, it was a decent deal:  all we could eat, and bottomless mimosas, bloody Marys, and margaritas.  But it's a price that excludes many people.

Because our table was near the entrance, I watched people who hadn't thought ahead to make a reservation turned away.  In all my decades at church, no one has ever been turned away.

I do wish that church could follow the lead of brunch in offering a good meal.  I've been part of church services that experimented with a good meal, but churches I've been part of seem very attached to traditional church, in pews, in a sanctuary.

I am glad to have the opportunity to go to brunch every so often.  I read articles about how the nation loves Sunday brunch and would never give it up to go to church.  Every so often, when I am in church, I wish I could go to brunch.  It's good to go to brunch occasionally to remember the disadvantages of brunch:  the crowds, the price, the loud music that prevents good conversation.

Purchases and Severances

I contemplated several purchases during my lunch hour on Thursday, just hours before I was laid off.  I did not make one big purchase:  my sister and I had talked about meeting at my mom and dad's for her birthday in March, but because I have so little vacation time, I would have had to fly on peak days, and it just didn't seem worth the $400+ that the airline ticket would cost.  Plus, I was thinking about what would happen if I got sick because of being exposed to so many people while flying--I do have (did have) sick days, but would I have enough?  I was leaning towards telling my sister that I couldn't do it, but I thought I would wait another week or two; maybe there would be a mid-February sale.

Usually my splurges are much simpler things.  Just days before I was laid off, I ordered more tea.  I buy from Harney and Sons, and because I drink so much tea at work, I buy the bags of 50 tea sachets.  I have the tins lined up on a shelf, and I fill the tins from the bags.  When I order the economy size of teas I know I like, I often also buy a tin of a tea that sounds interesting.  Occasionally, I find a new favorite this way.

That tea arrived at my residence on the day I was laid off.  I guess I could return it.  In the past, I have tended not to drink tea throughout the day when I am at home.  But I have usually only been at home on the week-ends.  I've decided to keep it.  It won't go bad, after all.  And it's quality tea, so it will retain its flavor.  And who knows?  Maybe I'll continue to drink tea on week days when I'm at home.

Above is a picture of the fabric that I bought just hours before being laid off.  I had done an internet search for the amazing fabric store, Sunshine Fabrics, that used to be in Broward county.  I found a phone number and called, expecting to hear that the number had been disconnected.

Instead, a woman answered the phone, and I explained that I was looking for Sunshine Fabrics.  She said that the store was online now.   I asked if she still sold fabrics, and she said yes.

I have never bought fabric online before.  I don't trust the photos, and I want to feel the material.  But since I was familiar with the store, I was willing to take the risk.  

The fabric is even more beautiful than the pictures promised.  Hurrah.  And I was able to get the ends of some bolts, which means I paid $5 a yard for fabric that had been $15 a yard.  If you're in the market for gorgeous fabric, go here.

I can't return the fabric, but even if I could, I wouldn't want to.  I'm going to add it to the fabric that I bought in January and I'm going to make a quilt in this time of transition.

I have time now, and I've saved up money--I can go to Quilt Camp in April and to the Create in Me retreat.

And yesterday, I bought a plane ticket to go celebrate my mom's birthday.  Because I no longer have to schedule around work, I could get a round trip ticket for hundreds of dollars less than the ones I decided not to buy, hours before I was laid off.

The Last Day of Work, the First Day of Unemployment

Yesterday was a very strange day, but strange in different ways than almost every other work day that came before it.  For one thing, it wasn't a work day, although I did drive to the office at the same time as usual.  But I was dressed so very differently:  I kept my workout tights on, with a pair of long shorts over it, and my running shoes.  For a shirt, I asked my spouse, "Do you think the Harriet Tubman or the I Chose Wesley shirt?"  I went with Harriet Tubman, in part because of what's printed on the back:

Keep Going

If you are tired, keep going;

If you are scared, keep going;

If you are hungry, keep going;

If you want to taste freedom, keep going.

Did Harriet Tubman really say that?  I have no idea.  Did anyone notice what my T-shirt said?  I have no idea, but I liked knowing.

First I had to unload the car; when I got home Thursday night, I had to get set up for my seminary class and then go to class, and after class, it was too late.  I unloaded the car, and my spouse and I headed to campus in separate cars.

We packed up one car, and he headed back to the condo we're renting.  I packed up the rest of my office and put the boxes in the car.  It was strange, and I realized I've never packed an office in these circumstances.  Usually I've been leaving because of my own choice, so I felt it was important to leave things in order for those who came after me.  In my last job, I even went so far as to digitize the departmental files for the person who came after me.

With this severance, I wasn't able to access my electronic files, so even if I wanted to be helpful that way, I couldn't be.  I took my personal items out of desk drawers and file cabinets, but whoever comes after me still has a lot of cleaning to do.  Some of those files and piles of paper were there when I joined the college in 2016.  And now the filing cabinet of doom will be someone else's task.  

I left all sorts of holiday decorations that I don't want.  I left books.  I left box after box of masks, gloves, and other supplies.  In the past year, I got several microgrants from Thrivent to buy food for students, and I left that too.

I put the last 5 boxes of stuff in my car, left the office keys and fob on the desk, and drove away.  I got home, unloaded the car, and drove to Total Wine to stock up.  The traffic was terrible, and I reflected that now I can run errands at whatever time is most convenient for me.

That's the strangest part of this severance.  When I was laid off in 2012, it was because of a restructuring, and I had a good chance at securing a similar position in the new structure.  So I kept going to work, doing my best, so that I would be chosen (and I was chosen, much to my relief).  When I left my job in 1998, it was to move to South Florida, and I had the summer to decide if we would stay or if we would go back to South Carolina to my job there--it was a teaching job where I could take summers off, which I did, so I immediately started working on finding permanent work.

In my current situation, I spent much of 2021 thinking I would lose my job, so I/we made decisions to get ourselves into position to weather that storm.  And when it looked like I wouldn't lose the job, we had already put processes into place--we had rented the condo, put a lot of money down, and decided to sell the house.  We decided to continue with our plan to sell the house because of the burning hot real estate market down here; if one sees one's house as an investment and one lives at the coast, one must sell when it's time.  It was time.

I spent much of the day realizing that I don't have to go to work on Monday.  I will still have online classes to teach and seminary work to do--but not having to be in an office for 45-55 hours a week will free up so much time.  And I won't be commuting twenty minutes to half an hour each way.  And I don't have to be desperate to find another full-time job; my plan is to go to seminary in the fall and live in campus housing.

I have never left a job and had that kind of time open up.  Yesterday, I thought of all the ways I could start to fill that time, and I instantly thought/prayed, let me not screw this up.

Yes, let me not screw this up.

Play List for Job Loss: Higher Ed Bad Boyfriend Strikes Again

In some ways, yesterday at work was a normal day, the new normal, where there's construction noise and whimpering animals and people who show up with no notice asking to be let into the server room.  During my lunch break internet ramblings, I found the web site of a woman who used to operate the most amazing fabric store for quilters in all of Broward county, and I ordered some fabric to go with the fabric I bought in January. I'm starting to formulate a vision for my next quilt!  I have dreams of quilt camp.

After lunch, at 2:00, I was on a video call interviewing a candidate for Director of Career Services when our HR person sent a chat through Teams asking if I was available for a quick meeting at 2:45.  I replied "yes" and spent the next half hour wondering what was about to happen.  It occurred to me that I might be let go, but I thought it was more likely that I would get a heads up about someone else being let go.  I thought it was even more likely that I might get an innocuous question.

Nope.  I was let go.   I got off the call, packed a few boxes, then it was on to home and my seminary class that I'm taking on Thursday nights: "Speaking of God in a Secular Age." It was surreal to be taking a class that discussed Catholic and Protestant ideas of grace when one has just been laid off.

It occurs to me that this is not the first time I have experienced a lay off (see this blog post for more details about the last time I was let go from an administrator job).  And like last time, this time was not entirely unexpected.  After all, I spent much of 2021 expecting that the campus would close, and my job would vanish.

But then the campus didn't close, and in fact, the new owners announced expansion plans.  Construction is underway.  Some part of me still expected to be laid off at some point--but it's strange when it actually happens.

On Tuesday, in fact, we had begun to think about plans that might be possible if my job lasted as long as the lease on the condo, until August of 2023.  Even as my spouse was running figures, some part of my heart urged caution.

I have begun to think of Higher Ed as a bad boyfriend, who breaks one's heart again and again, and apologizes profusely and each time, one thinks it might be different. Not an abusive boyfriend, in that one's face isn't broken and it's not bad enough that one knows to run away. There's potential--one wants it all to be different. But the Higher Education bad boyfriend breaks one's heart in so many ways.

Let me hasten to say that I feel fortunate in so many ways.  Since we spent much of 2021 thinking I would lose my job, we made alternate plans.  I am so grateful to Feb. 2021 Kristin who went ahead and applied for seminary and candidacy.  I am so grateful that we have sold the house.  I am so grateful that I have a vision of an alternate future.

While I will miss many of my colleagues, I am also grateful that someone else will have the task of leading the campus through the accreditation visit in 2 months.  I was not looking forward to many of the changes that were barreling towards us.

I will return to the campus today for a final time to box up books and load up the car.  When the HR person asked if I had any questions, I thought, I have so many questions.  But the one I asked was "I have more personal stuff in my office than I can get home today in my little car.  How do you want me to handle that?"

This morning, after a night of restless sleep, I woke up with a Meat Loaf lyric in my head:  "I want you, I need you, but there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you." Thanks Higher Ed Bad Boyfriend! Now listening to Jimmy Buffett's "Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On." That man doesn't get enough credit for his skillful lyrics.

This morning's complete play list, minus Meat Loaf:

"Breathe In, Breathe Out, Move On" by Jimmy Buffett

"Further on Up the Road" by Bruce Springsteen

"I Shall Be Released" by the Band

"The Wanderer" by Johnny Cash and U2

"Midnight Rider" by the Allman Brothers

"After the Gold Rush" by Neil Young

"Surrender" by U2

"Straight Lines" by Suzanne Vega

"Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, February 6, 2022:

First Reading: Isaiah 6:1-8 [9-13]

Psalm: Psalm 138

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:1-11

Gospel: Luke 5:1-11


Today's Gospel is one we must have heard a gabillion times, if we've been going to church for any amount of time at all. As the Gospel becomes familiar, perhaps the rich symbolic language loses some of its power. The symbol of the fisherman is one we find across church cultures; the mission of fishing for people, too, is one that most faiths hold in common.

Let's look at the Gospel again, to see what we might have missed.  I'm struck by the fact that Jesus comes to call Simon Peter and his friends and family during their work time. Christ, too, is on the job. The familiarity of this Gospel makes me forget that first verse, that tells us Jesus is preaching when he slips into the boats. I wonder what the crowds who came to hear the word of God made of that?

Jesus slips into the boat of weary fisherman who have had an unsuccessful night. What convinces Christ that these men are the cornerstone of his work on this planet?

If you were setting up your new ministry--or any other kind of venture--would you choose the men that Jesus chose?

In hindsight, it's easy to say "Of course." But take a minute and consider the story for today.

We see fisherman, and unsuccessful fisherman. In the Palestine of Christ's time, these men wouldn't have been at the bottom of the social ladder, but they'd have been close, viewed as solidly working class or lower. It's hard, heavy work to do this kind of fishing--and dirty work, as there are fish and nets to clean.

These are not men who own land, the kind of men that would have had status. These are not men who have been trained by religious authorities, as we might have expected Jesus to choose for his ministry.

Jesus chooses regular, ordinary people. These are not men with gifts of oratory, not first. These are not the best and the brightest, at least not at first. But Jesus chooses them.

In the previous chapter, Jesus has healed Simon's mother-in-law. These are not young, single men, fishing on a boat to pay for college. Just like so many of us, these men had families and work and lots to accomplish in a day.  But they've also seen Jesus in action, healing one of their own family members.  And then, they get to experience their own miracle:  full nets, from a sea that didn't yield fish before.

Jesus calls, and they respond. Perhaps it's because of the nets that are so full to bursting that they almost sink the boats. Perhaps they realize that on their own, they have empty nets, while with Christ in the boat, they're successful in ways they didn't think they could be.

It's a potent metaphor. Christ wants to join you on the boat. Will you give him a place to teach the world? Christ wants you to try again, when you're convinced that only failure can come from casting down your nets again. Will you follow Christ? Will your nets be empty or full to bursting?

Cast down your nets. Cast them down again and again and again until you are a different kind of fish and a different kind of fisherperson.

Halfway Point of Winter

We are at the halfway point of winter--halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. Today is Candlemas, where Christians celebrate the presentation of Jesus at the Temple, and pagans long ago celebrated the goddess Brigid (and the feast day of St. Brigid was yesterday), and some Wiccans today will be celebrating at Imbolc, or a variation of any number of pagan holidays. It's also Groundhog's Day. It's one of those times when we can almost perceive the shifting of the seasons. It's not spring yet, but it will be soon.

Candlemas is the feast day that speaks to me. Candlemas celebrates the presentation of Jesus at the temple. It's the last feast holiday that references Christmas. We could see it as the final festival of Christmas, even though most of us have had the decorations packed away since even before Epiphany.

This morning I'm thinking of Simeon, who held onto the promise of the Messiah throughout his very long life before he saw it fulfilled. He waits and he waits and he waits. But finally, at the end of his life, he does hold the Messiah, the light of the world, in his hands.

Simeon holds the baby Jesus. Imagine it: to hold the light of the world in your hands. In so many ways we still do. We carry the light of the world inside us. How can your body deliver light to the world?

Some churches and monasteries will bless the year's supply of candles. I love this tradition, although it's never been mine. Today would be a good day to light a candle and to think about our own lights. Are we dimly burning wicks? Take heart--the Bible promises that we can still be useful. Does our light burn pure and true? Take care to protect that flame.

The holidays of early February (Groundhog Day, Candlemas, St. Brigid's Day, Imbolc and Oimelc ) remind us that the light hasn't really left us. Spring will be here soon.

A Poem for the Feast Day of Saint Brigid

Today is the feast day of St. Brigid, one of the patron saints of Ireland.  She is one of the early Christians who stood at the intersection of Christianity, Druidism, and the other pagan religions of Ireland.  She is also one of those extraordinary women who did amazing things, despite the patriarchal culture in which she lived.

She founded founded some of the first Christian monasteries in Ireland, most famously the legendary one in Kildare.  She also founded a school of art that focuses on metal working and illumination.  The illustrated manuscript, the Book of Kildare, was created under her auspices.  Unfortunately, it's been lost since the Reformation, so we know it by its reputation only.

Monastic, administrator, artist--it's no wonder that her story calls to me from across the centuries.

I didn't really know much about Brigid until about 2011 or 2012, when I read several blog posts about her.  In 2013, I drove all the way to Mepkin Abbey on her feast day.  I thought about her life as I drove across cold landscapes.  I finally wrote a draft of the poem that appears below.

Years ago, I wrote this:  "I will try to imagine Saint Brigid through a more realistic lens.  I will write a poem where she tells me that she accomplished all sorts of things along the way, while all the time struggling to create her great illuminated work.  I will imagine something that she did that we know nothing of.  I will imagine that she will feel sad when she realizes that modern people don't even know of her great work, but instead of her institutions at Kildare and beyond.

I will think about a woman at midlife 1500 years from now, a woman who reads about my life.  What will amaze her?  How will she see the ways that I did, indeed, live an authentic life, even as I lost sight of that fact in the daily minutiae?  If she blogged about me, what would seem important enough to include?  How would she finish this sentence:  In the last half of her life, Berkey-Abbott accomplished ______________  ?"

I have yet to write about Brigid's lost work, but I did write the poem that imagines Brigid through a more realistic lens.  It was published in Adanna, and I'm happy to repost it here.  If you want additional background on Brigid, see this blog post.


The True Miracle of Saint Brigid


You know about the baskets
of butter, the buckets of beer,
the milk that flowed
to fill a lake.

You don’t know about the weeks
we prayed for the miracle
of multiplication but instead received
the discipline of division.

I managed the finances to keep us all fed.
By day, I rationed the food.
At night, I dreamed of a sculpture
manufactured of metal.

I didn’t have the metal
or the time, but in the minutes
had, I illuminated
any scrap of paper I could find.

Lost to the ashes:
The Book of Kildare, but also
my budget ledgers, flowers
and birds drawn around the numbers.