A Cramped Labyrinth

 A week ago, my sister came to my seminary apartment to pick me up to go to Williamsburg.  My mom was part of a planning team for the St. Stephens Lutheran Church women's retreat, and she invited us to attend.  She also invited me to offer a workshop on labyrinths.

St. Stephens doesn't have a labyrinth, so before the week-end, we brainstormed.  My mom reached out to nearby Episcopalians who have a canvas labyrinth.  It's 30 feet--30 feet--in diameter, so when we were together in February, we went around the church building measuring.  We determined that there was no indoor space for that canvas labyrinth.

Happily, I know how to lay out a labyrinth outline.  One could do this with rope or yarn, or even masking tape on a floor.  I got the labyrinth outline that we use for the Create in Me retreat:

My mom got some ropey nylon in two shades of pink at an after-Valentine's Day sale at the Dollar Store.  This labyrinth would be very hard for me to lay out without two shades of border, so I was glad to have it.

We spent about an hour on Friday laying out the labyrinth in a space off the narthex in the church.  We really could have used several more feet on the sides, but the space is bordered by a wall on one side and a window on another, so we had to work with what we had.  We scootched lines over and shifted, and soon enough, we were done:

The ropey nylon wanted to spring free of the tape, so we taped it more than we might have.  I didn't want to arrive on Saturday morning to have to lay it out again.

It wasn't a perfect labyrinth, but the people who came to my workshop were gracious about it.  They were grateful to have a way to try out this prayer practice (only 1/4 of the participants had ever walked one).

I did worry a bit that this experience, which was a bit too cramped and crowded to be truly meditative.  It wasn't the perfect first labyrinth walk, for those who had never tried it.  Happily, most people said that they saw the potential, and at the end of the workshop, they were strategizing about where to find a bigger labyrinth.

Three Years of Morning Watch

Three years ago, at 5:30 a.m., I did my first Morning Watch.  It was in the early days of the pandemic and its lockdown.  My church had already been doing some live-streaming of Sunday worship service, so making that pivot to broadcasting worship wasn't hard for us.  My pastor added some evening Compline services to the mix.  Those of us who are early risers wanted something on the other side of the day, and I volunteered to be the one to do it.

I thought about choosing texts for the day, but then I wondered why I would do that, since we had common lectionaries.  I took the path of least resistance for me, which was using Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours.  I used the Facebook Live feature and used the church's Facebook page, which meant that people could tune in live or they could watch the recording later.

The format remains the same.  I read the readings for the day, and then we have 5-7 minutes for whatever activity centers us.  I almost always sketch.  These days, it's often the only sketching I do in a week, and as always, I'm amazed at how much I can accomplish, even if I only do it a few minutes a day.

When I began, I thought I'd do this for a few weeks.  And now, here we are, three years later.  We're no longer under lockdown orders, but we also are not done with this disease.  But that's not why I'm still doing Morning Watch.

This practice nourishes me.  I would be doing it regardless, and it's really no problem to broadcast.  I'm almost always up and awake before 5:30 a.m.  I almost always have internet access.

Do people tune in?  I know that there are at least three people who tune in regularly and leave comments.  I know that there are plenty of people who see the broadcast and don't leave comments.  I have heard from some people about how much this practice means to them, how it's gotten them through some rough patches.  That alone would keep me doing it.

But it also enriches me.  Doing a broadcast, knowing that some people will tune in at some point, keeps me doing it.   And starting my day this way makes for a better day, a better week, a better month--better years!

Preaching a Sermon in the Seminary Chapel

I have come to the week in seminary work that I knew would come--a variety of papers and projects due this week, a crunch time, but not impossible.  Last night I preached my sermon for Women and the Preaching Life class.  You might say, "Big deal.  Aren't you going to do this once a week in your new career?"  But it's the project that gives me the most relief when it's done.

Perhaps.  And yes, when giving a sermon once a week, I might not be as relieved to be done with it.  But it would be different on a Sunday morning than it was last night.

For this class, we have an exegesis that we have to do in advance:  we take a deep dive into the text, and we look at concordances and translations and what words mean in other languages.  We consult at least 3 commentaries.  We look at various angles from which we might consider the text:  social justice, literary elements, where the text is situated in the Bible and throughout history.  My exegesis project was 16 pages long.

We also have to turn in a written version of our sermon.  That wasn't an onerous burden, since I preach from a manuscript when a grade is on the line.  Does it say something about me that I preach from the written out sermon when it's for a grade, but I'm not as committed to that approach when I preach for a congregation?  You decide.

To tell the truth, I had been moving in this direction.  I had been preaching from an outline before we moved.  I preached from a manuscript in last semester's Foundations of Preaching class, and I was surprised by how much easier it was.  I may be preaching from a manuscript from now on, or at least a more complete outline.

Last night, we preached in the chapel, and it was a beautiful experience, even though it was just our class.  We gathered just before the class started at 6:30, and we noticed deer grazing on the hill outside the big windows.  The fading light was beautiful.  I told my classmates about seeing the deer this morning across the street on the American U soccer field.

And then we settled into our sermon giving rhythm.  I got to go first.  Unlike last semester's class, we each got to choose our own passage.  I decided to go with a selection from the Revised Common Lectionary that comes this summer, the second Sunday after Pentecost:  Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26.  I was pleased with what I wrote, and it was well received.

I got to go first, which made me happy.  And then I relaxed into the knowledge that I had preached, and it went well.  After class, I turned in my exegesis and my manuscript and tucked myself into bed.

Today I'll write and write and write some more, and then I'll drive to Vienna to pick up a classmate who doesn't drive at night.  We're going to a free poetry reading:   Carolyn Forché and Roger Reeves at Busboys and Poets in Northeast DC’s Brookland neighborhood on Wednesday, March 29, from 7–8:30 p.m.  It's free, so if you're in the DC area, come on over and join us! 

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Palm Sunday, April 2, 2023:

Liturgy of the Palms

 
Psalm:  Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Second reading:  Matthew 21:1-11

Liturgy of the Passion

 
First reading:  Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm:  Psalm 31:9-16
Second reading:  Philippians 2:5-11
Gospel:  Matthew 26:14-27:66 or Matthew 27:11-54

Those of you who have been going to church for awhile may have noticed that Palm Sunday sometimes stretches for a longer time than Easter Sunday. There's so much we cover these days. We start with the Palm Sunday story--some churches actually have their congregants start out seated, then they rise and march around the church, either inside or outside, and then they sit down again. 

And then, when they get to the readings, they hear the whole story of the Passion. We get Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday all in one Sunday. It's almost a relief to show up on Easter and only have to deal with one part of the story.

Easter is the part of the story upon which our Christian faith is rooted. It's the place where most of us like to fix our focus. But Holy Week reminds us of essential truths too.

Palm Sunday, which is now called Passion Sunday, reminds us of life's journey. No one gets to live the triumphal entry into Jerusalem day in and day out. If we're lucky, there will be those high water mark periods; we'll be hailed as heroes and people will appreciate our work. All the transportation and dinner details will work out like we want them to. Our friends will be by our side.

Yet the Passion story reminds us that those same appreciative people can turn on us just as quickly. The cheering crowd today can be the one calling for our blood next week. If we're lucky, we'll have friends who stand by us, but we're also likely to suffer all kinds of betrayals: from our friends, from our governments, from any number of societal institutions, and ultimately from our bodies, our all too fragile flesh.

What do we do with this knowledge?

The corridor between Palm Sunday and Easter instructs us in what to do. We can watch out for each other. We can find like-minded humans and stay together in solidarity. We can make meals and take time to eat together.

We can go even deeper into our care for each other, and on Maundy Thursday, we get a glimpse of that kind of care. Some churches will read the Maundy Thursday text of the woman anointing Christ's feet with oil. Some churches will read the Maundy Thursday text that shows Jesus washing the feet of the disciples.

Good Friday reminds us that we can do all these things, and still we may have to stand by helplessly as those whom we love are ravaged. Or we may find that we are ravaged.

The Palm Sunday/Passion Week trajectory reminds us that we worship a God who has experienced this truth of the human condition first hand.

But we also worship a God who has been working through time and outside of time to transform this human condition. We don't always see it, but Easter assures us that the process is in place and that resurrection will break through, even in the most unlikely circumstances.

Dem Bones and Sunday Percussion

On Friday night at the Women's Retreat at St. Stephens Lutheran Church in Williamsburg, we worked on the offertory anthem for Sunday morning.  The Old Testament reading was from Ezekias--time to get out the songs about bones!  We did not do "Dem Bones Gonna Rise Again"; we did "Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem Dry Bones."  It had opportunities for 3 percussion instruments:  the guiro, the sticks, and a shaker.  

The people playing the instruments on Friday night weren't going to be at the 8:30 service.  I thought my mom planned to go, so I volunteered to play the instruments.  Even though it made for a long Sunday morning, I was glad I did.

When we did the quick rehearsal Sunday morning before the 8:30 service, I learned I had mixed up the instruments, but I regrouped.  I spent much of church looking at the music and visualizing myself doing it correctly.  And I did!

Someone commented afterward that I looked like I was concentrating on getting those instruments right.  Indeed I was.  I was playing with 2 of the best musicians I know, my mom and Karen Ives, and I didn't want to let them down, even though it's a volunteer choir.

The song has been in my head for days now, and if you'd like it to be in yours, the early service was recorded.  You can see me playing to the far right of the screen.  My mom stands beside me, and Karen is at the piano.  Go here and go to minute 53.40.

Or watch the whole service--it's worth your time.

The Women's Retreat: An Overview

 At some point, I'll write a post with photos from the women's retreat at St. Stephens Lutheran Church in Williamsburg.  This morning, time is short--I need to get ready for church, both early and late service today.  Let me write a quick blog post to serve as an overview and a wrap up.

We started on Friday.  We had pizza and wine (or non-alcoholic drinks).  We did some singing together, a good range of hymns across the century and only the first verse.  We did a getting to know you game, a card with squares that had items like:  I own more than 5 cookbooks, I've got towels that only guests use.  My mom was in charge of the retreat, and she asked me for ideas, so I sent her this photo from an earlier Create in Me retreat.  Happily, it didn't need much tweaking.

On Saturday, we got an early start.  People could arrive by 8:30 for some breakfast, and Bible Study started at 9.  Our Bible study was one verse, the one about putting new wine in old wineskins, and we used it as a jumping off point to talk about this moment in history as a hinge moment for the church.  We need to be doing something new, but what do we do if we don't know what to do?

I had lots of thoughts, but I tried to be quiet.  We talked a lot about technology, but is that really a new wineskin?  If we're streaming the worship service that we've always had, are we sending out our old wine with a new delivery system?  I mentioned that once, and let it go.  But it's a thought I'll be coming back to.  

We had this discussion in the morning, and for afternoon Bible study, we ended with brainstorming about what we might try to accomplish in our church.  We had tried to divide ourselves into groups that would have people who have a mix of ways of responding to change.

There were workshops throughout the day:  prayer beads, labyrinths, and the Enneagram, plus a Q and A with our Bible leader.  Publix did a great job with the box lunch; in fact, it was one of the best veggie sandwiches I've ever had from a box lunch.  Usually the veggie option can be rather thin and pitiful.

We finished around 4 and went home, a tired but satisfied group of women.  Our Bible study leader is leading worship this morning, and we're singing in the choir--the retreat spirit continues!

A Poem for the Feast Day of the Annunciation

It is the Feast Day of the Annunciation, the day when we celebrate the arrival of the angel Gabriel to Mary.  He greets her and tells her that God has need of her.  She says yes to God's surprising ideas.

Anyone who reads my work or listens to my sermons knows that I don't think this is the only time that God has appeared with an interesting proposal to an individual human.  I believe that God does this all the time, and that all too often, we're too busy or distracted or depressed or done in by grief to even notice that God is there saying, "Hail, oh blessed one.  The Lord is with you."

Years ago I thought about the angel Gabriel and how the mission would change in our current day.  And then I wrote this poem (for more process notes, see this blog post), which was included in the book Annunciation (if you'd like a signed copy of the book, let me know, and we can negotiate a price):

A Girl More Worthy

The angel Gabriel rolls his eyes
at his latest assignment:
a virgin in Miami?
Can such a creature exist?

He goes to the beaches, the design
districts, the glittering buildings
at every boundary.
Just to cover all bases, he checks
the churches but finds no
vessels for the holy inside.

He thinks he’s found her in the developer’s
office, when she offers him coffee, a kind
smile, and a square of cake. But then she instructs
him in how to trick the regulatory
authorities, how to make his income and assets
seem bigger so that he can qualify
for a huge mortgage that he can never repay.


On his way out of town, he thinks he spies
John the Baptist under the Interstate
flyway that takes tourists
to the shore. But so many mutter
about broods of vipers and lost
generations that it’s hard to tell
the prophet from the grump,
the lunatic from the T.V. commentator.

Finally, at the commuter college,
that cradle of the community,
he finds her. He no longer hails
moderns with the standard angel
greetings. Unlike the ancients,
they are not afraid, or perhaps, their fears
are just so different now.


The angel Gabriel says a silent benediction
and then outlines God’s plan.
Mary wonders why Gabriel didn’t go
to Harvard where he might find
a girl more worthy. What has she done
to find God’s favor?

She has submitted
to many a will greater than her own.
Despite a lifetime’s experience
of closed doors and the word no,
she says yes.

The Feast Day of Oscar Romero

  Oscar Romero is now officially a saint, and today is his feast day.  On this day in 1980, he was killed, a martyr for the faith.  When I made this collage card years ago, I couldn't believe that he'd ever be canonized:

Many scholars believe that he was chosen to be Archbishop precisely because he was expected not to make trouble. All that changed when one of his good friends, an activist Jesuit priest, was assassinated by one of the death squads roaming the country. Romero became increasingly political, increasingly concerned about the poor who were being oppressed by the tiny minority of rich people in the country. He called for reform. He called on the police and the soldiers to stop killing their brethren. And for his vision, he was killed as he consecrated the bread for Mass.

I was alive when he was martyred, but I didn't hear or read about it.  I remember reading about some of the more famous murders, particularly of the nuns, and wondering why people would murder nuns or missionaries who were there to help--I had yet to learn of the horrors of colonialism throughout history.

In my first year of college, I was asked to be part of a service that honored the martyrdom of Romero, and this event was likely how I heard of him first.  Or maybe it was earlier that semester when our campus pastor took a group of us to Jubilee Partners.

Jubilee Partners was a group formed by the same people that created Koinonia, the farm in Americus Georgia that most people know because they also created Habitat for Humanity--but they were so much more, in their witness of how Christian love could play out in real practice in one of the most segregated and poor parts of the U.S. south.  In the early years of Jubilee Partners, when I went there, the group helped people from Central America get to Canada, where they could get asylum in the 1980's, when they couldn't get asylum in the U.S.

My consciousness was formed by these encounters and by other encounters I had throughout the 80's.  I met many people in the country illegally, and I heard about the horrors that brought them here.  Then, as now, I couldn't imagine why we wouldn't let these people stay.

Many of us may think that those civil wars are over, but many countries in Central America are still being torn apart by violence.  The words of Romero decades ago are sadly still relevant today:  "Brothers, you came from our own people. You are killing your own brothers. Any human order to kill must be subordinate to the law of God, which says, 'Thou shalt not kill'. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. No one has to obey an immoral law. It is high time you obeyed your consciences rather than sinful orders. The church cannot remain silent before such an abomination. ...In the name of God, in the name of this suffering people whose cry rises to heaven more loudly each day, I implore you, I beg you, I order you: stop the repression."

But his teachings go beyond just a call for an end to killing.  His messages to the wider church are still powerful:  "A church that doesn't provoke any crises, a gospel that doesn't unsettle, a word of God that doesn't get under anyone’s skin, a word of God that doesn't touch the real sin of the society in which it is being proclaimed — ​what gospel is that?"

And even those of us who are not part of a faith tradition can find wisdom in his teachings:  "Each time we look upon the poor, on the farmworkers who harvest the coffee, the sugarcane, or the cotton... remember, there is the face of Christ."

If we treated everyone we met as if that person was God incarnate, what a different world we would have!

But for those of us who are tired from the work of this weary world, here's a message of hope and a reminder of the long view:  "We are workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own."

On this day that honors a man who was not always honored, let us take heart from his words and from his example.  Let us also remember that he was not always this force for good in the world; indeed, he was chosen to be Archbishop because the upper management of the church thought he would keep his nose stuck in a book and out of politics. 

In these days that feel increasingly more perilous, let us recommit ourselves to the type of love that Romero called us to show:  "Let us not tire of preaching love; it is the force that will overcome the world."

Shifting Agricultural Zones

 I do not have much time for writing this morning, not the non-academic kind at least.

No time for gallivanting among the cherry blossoms today.  Seminary writing summons me.

But here's a cherry blossom fact that I found sobering:  "Washington’s Yoshino cherry trees aren’t going anywhere, of course. But in garden stores and landscape architecture, the Japanese species isn’t among the varieties being planted in the D.C. region and other parts of the country, he said. Instead, popular cherry trees nowadays are descended from species native to Taiwan, at a latitude hundreds of miles south of Japan’s."  (from this article in The Washington Post)

We are changing our planet in ways that we can scarcely comprehend.  I have hopes that we'll continue to find ways to adapt, like shifting plants to latitudes that are better for them.  

I have fainter hope that we'll manage to stop our accelerated warming so that we don't have to shift plants.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 26, 2023

First Reading: Ezekiel 37:1-14

Psalm: Psalm 130

Second Reading: Romans 8:6-11

Gospel: John 11:1-45


What a strange picture of Jesus in this Gospel. Remember the Jesus of several miracles ago? The one who instructed people to go and tell no one?

Here we see a Jesus who seems overly aware of the impact of his actions. It's as if we're seeing a man who is aware of his legacy and how he'll be seen--a man who is trying to control the story. And of course, we see foreshadowing in this story, foreshadowing of the death and resurrection of Christ, which we'll be celebrating in two weeks.

Notice that Jesus waits until Lazarus is good and dead before he appears to comfort the sisters and perform a miracle. It's as if he wants no dispute about the miracle. Unlike the past few miracles when Jesus raised people who had only been dead for a few hours, here he waits 4 days. There's no doubt about what he's done once he's raised Lazarus from the dead. We can't easily imagine that Lazarus has been faking his death for 4 days. Even if Lazarus wanted to help Jesus fake a miracle and put on a good show, it's hard to imagine that he'd willingly submit to being sealed in a tomb for 4 days.

As we watch the world around us gear up for Easter, we'll see a certain number of Jesus detractors. We'll see people who want to explain away the resurrection. The liturgical calendar gives us this story of Lazarus to return us to one of the main themes of our religion--we believe in (and are called to practice) resurrection.

And why is the idea of resurrection so hard in our fallen world? Do we not know enough people who have turned their lives around? Think of all the people who have risen again out of the ashes of drug addiction, madness, or domestic turmoil. Why are we so hesitant to believe in miracles?

Although writing about a different miracle, Wendell Berry has said expressed my idea more eloquently than I can today. In his essay, "Christianity and the Survival of Creation," he says, "Whoever really has considered the lilies of the field or the birds of the air and pondered the improbability of their existence in this warm world within the cold and empty stellar distances will hardly balk at the turning of water into wine--which was, after all, a very small miracle. We forget the greater and still continuing miracle by which water (with soil and sunlight) is turned into grapes" (this wonderful essay appears in his wonderful book Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community).

The world has far too many cynics. Christians are called to be different. Choose your favorite metaphor: we're to be leaven in the loaf, the light of the world, the city on a hill, the salt (or other seasoning) that provides flavor, the seed that pushes against the dirt.

Each day, practice hope. Each day, practice resurrection.

A Trip to See the Cherry Blossoms

 I have been keeping an eye on the progress of the cherry blossoms.  For as long as my family lived in Northern Virginia and Maryland, I've never been here when the cherry trees were blooming, so I knew I wanted to see them.  Plus, I haven't been to the MLK Memorial, so I could take care of two goals at once.  But it was hard to know the precise moment to go.  So, I chose yesterday, the last good day in terms of my schedule.

It's still a few days before peak bloom, but it was still a beautiful (but cold!) morning.  I headed over to the Metro at 7:15, and I was emerging from the Metro Center station as a clock chimed 8 a.m.  I was further away, but walking from Metro Center instead of changing to a line that would get me closer made me happy.  I headed down to the Tidal Basin.

I was surprised by how many coffee shops were closed for the morning, and I did wonder if there was something going on I should know about.  But throughout the day, the streets and sidewalks were emptier than I would expect in the capital of the U.S.  I've been hearing about this phenomenon, offices that haven't resumed a 5 day work week schedule, which means that there's no one there to shop or eat out.  There's certainly not a lot of apartment space downtown.

There were a few folks at the Tidal Basin when I got there, including one woman in a long, bright pink, satin gown.  I took pictures as I headed towards the Jefferson Memorial.  I haven't mastered the art of selfies yet, but I liked this one from early in the morning:

And here's a touristy kind of shot:

There would be many touristy shots throughout the day.  Here's the Washington Monument:

I didn't take pictures of the people wearing interesting varieties of cherry hats and headpieces.  I didn't take pictures of the busloads of students, the busloads of tourists.  I was glad I came early.

Along the way I stopped at all the Memorials.  Some were deeply familiar, like the Jefferson Memorial:

Some I had visited exactly once, like the FDR Memorial.  I was glad the Eleanor Roosevelt got a prominent place all to herself:

And some were brand new, like the MLK Memorial:

I walked the entire length of the Tidal Basin, which was lined with cherry trees the whole way.  At the other end, I came across this memorial to the process that brought these trees to us:

Then I headed back up to the museum district to go to the Renwick and maybe some others.  This post is getting long, so I'll write about the museums later.

By the time I got back to my seminary apartment, I had walked 8.4 miles, and my arthritic feet felt that distance.  But it was a wonderful day, worth every ache.

The Feast Day of Saint Joseph

 Today is the feast day of St. Joseph, Mary's husband, the earthly father of Jesus. Here are the readings for today:

2 Samuel 7:4, 8-16
Psalm 89:1-29 (2)
Romans 4:13-18
Matthew 1:16, 18-21, 24a

I have done some thinking of Joseph, as many of us do, in the Advent season, when occasionally, we get to hear about Joseph. He thinks of quietly unweaving himself from Mary, who is pregnant. This behavior is our first indication of his character. Under ancient law, he could have had Mary stoned to death, but he takes a gentler path.

And then, he follows the instructions of the angel who tells him of God's plan. He could have turned away. He could have said, "I did not sign up for this!" He could have said, "No thanks. I want a normal wife and a regular life."

Instead, he turned towards Mary and accepted God's vision. He's there when the family needs to flee to Egypt. He's there when the older Jesus is lost and found in the temple. We assume that he has died by the time Christ is crucified, since he's not at the cross.

Some of us today will spend the day celebrating fathers, which is a great way to celebrate the feast day of St. Joseph. Lately, I've been thinking of his feast day and what it means for administrators and others who are not the stars, but who make it possible for stars to step into the spotlight.

Let us today praise the support teams, the people in the background, the people who step back to allow others to shine. Let us praise the people who do the drudgery work which makes it possible for others to succeed.

Many of us grow up internalizing the message that if we're not changing the world in some sort of spectacular way, we're failures. Those of us who are Christians may have those early disciples as our role models, those hard-core believers who brought the Good News to the ancient world by going out in pairs.

But Joseph shows us a different reality. It's quite enough to be a good parent. It's quite enough to have an ordinary job. It's quite enough to show up, day after day, dealing with both the crises and the opportunities.

Joseph reminds us that even the ones born into the spotlight need people in the background who are tending to the details. When we think about those early disciples and apostles, we often forget that they stayed in people's houses, people who fed them and arranged speaking opportunities for them, people who gave them encouragement when their task seemed too huge.

I imagine Joseph doing much the same thing, as he helped Jesus become a man. I imagine the life lessons that Joseph administered as he gave Jesus carpentry lessons. I imagine that he helped Jesus understand human nature, in all the ways that parents have helped their offspring understand human nature throughout history.

Let us not be so quick to discount this kind of work. Let us praise the support teams that make the way possible for the people who will change the world.


Here is a prayer that I wrote for today:

Creator God, thank you for your servant Joseph. Help us to remember his lessons for us. Help us look for ways to shepherd your Good News into the world in ways that only we can.

Slavery and Saint Patrick

Here we are at the Feast Day of Saint Patrick, perhaps even more popular with non-Christians than the Feast Day of St. Valentine.  I think of people eating corned beef and cabbage, or perhaps some sort of potato dish, with green beer to wash it all down.  Do those people think about Saint Patrick's years of slavery in Ireland before he became a missionary to Ireland before he became a patron saint of Ireland?

It's strange to think of Saint Patrick in this year when we've been censoring books that mention slavery, when we've been banning curriculum that talks about the more recent history of slavery.  Hmmm.

We like slaves who are safe in centuries we can scarcely remember.  Patrick was born to a high ranking Roman family in England, but when he was approximately 16, he was kidnapped and spent 6 or 7 years as a slave in Ireland. While there, he learned the language and the non-Christian customs of the land.

This knowledge would come in handy when he was sent back to Ireland in the 5th century to solidify the Christianity of the country. There are many stories about Patrick's vanquishing force, complete with Druid spells and Christian counterspells. I suspect the real story was perhaps more tame.

Later scholars have suggested that Patrick and his compatriots were sent to minister to the Christians who were already there, not to conquer the natives. Other scholars have speculated that one of the reasons that Christianity was so successful in Ireland was because Patrick took the parts of pagan religions that appealed most to its followers and showed how those elements were also present in Christianity--or perhaps incorporated them into Christianity as practiced in Ireland.

These days, I am thinking of Church History more than the more recent history that has so enraged the governor of Florida.  I am thinking about all the decisions made in the earliest centuries of Christianity, about roads not taken, about the ways we could have had a more vibrant religion.

This morning, on the Feast Day of Saint Patrick, I'm realizing that we do have it.  

I'm thinking of Celtic Christianity and all the ways it can enrich our daily lives.  I realize we could argue about whether or not Celtic Christianity really existed in the way we might think about it now, this many centuries later.

Even if modern versions of Celtic Christianity aren't historically accurate, these ideas have much to offer us in the twenty-first century.  I like the idea of living in community.  I like the idea of taking care of creation.  I like the way that spirituality can infuse every element of our lives, if we're being aware and intentional.  In an article from the Northumbria community, Trevor Miller says, "Esther De Waal puts it well; ‘The Celtic approach to God opens up a world in which nothing is too common to be exalted and nothing is so exalted that it cannot be made common.’ They believed that the presence of God infused daily life and thus transforms it, so that at any moment, any object, any job of work, can become a place for encounter with God. In everyday happenings and ordinary ways, so that we have prayers for getting up, lighting the fire, getting dressed, milking the cow etc."

The entire article is well worth your time, especially if you're looking for ways to revitalize your own spiritual life.  What a great way to celebrate Saint Patrick--much more nourishing than corned beef and green beer! 

Biblical Inerrancy and a Different Sort of Evangelism

In various seminary classes, we've talked about Biblical truth/inerrancy and how we came to have these books in the Bible and not others.  I found myself wishing, not for the first time, that we had a way to add books.  The Christian New Testament is much too heavy with the works of Paul and the fact that they are all letters to specific communities wrestling with particular problems makes them only somewhat useful to me.

How might our faith have developed in more vibrant ways if we had included more through the years, not limited ourselves to the ones that the earliest communities chose to preserve?  By now we'd have a huge book, if we had kept everything.  

Of course, I have bookshelves which serve a similar function.  I look through some of them and think about how, when I've needed inspiration or consolation or wisdom, much more often I've turned to Kathleen Norris or Madeleine L'Engle than the letters of Paul.

And like any good evangelist, I've sung the praises of women theologians too often overlooked.  Recently, in the minutes before class started, I heard a classmate tell another one about Dakota, by Kathleen Norris.  I chimed in to talk about the other work she's written.  After class, I apologized for crashing into their conversation, and they were gracious--and then we went on to talk about Norris some more.  What a treat.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 19, 2023:

First Reading: 1 Samuel 16:1-13

Psalm: Psalm 23

Second Reading: Ephesians 5:8-14

Gospel: John 9:1-41

Occasionally, a student will ask me how I know that a symbol is really a symbol, and not just me overreacting to something in the text. I always reply that we know we're looking at a symbol when the author comes back to it again and again. Then an image is meant to take on more weight.

Today's Gospel would be a good illustration of this point. Again and again, we see blind people in this text, from the physically blind to the metaphorically blind.   We could talk about whether or not it's problematic to use blindness as a symbol--would a blind person hearing sermons about spiritual blindness be insulted?  I hope not.  I have a blind friend who has gone to great lengths to see if his sight could be restored.  He would understand this desire for sight.

Again and again, the text returns to blindness, physical blindness and spiritual blindness. Clearly, we're meant to explore issues of our own blindness. It's not bad to do a spiritual inventory periodically. Where do we see evidence of God in our lives? Where are we blind to God's presence?

As I read the text for this week, I found myself getting to this point from a different angle. Look at how Jesus cures this blind man. He mixes dirt and spit (dirt and spit!) onto the man's eyes and instructs him to bathe. I'm not the first to be struck by the earthiness of this cure: the use of different elements (dirt, saliva, and water), the rootedness of the cure in the physical (Jesus doesn't cast a spell, for example, or call on angels), and the simplicity of it all.

It might make us think back to the Genesis story, of God forming the first humans out of dirt (Adam) and an extra rib (Eve). It might make us think of all the ways that God uses basic, earthbound elements in both creation and salvation.

Think of our sacraments, for example. There's baptism, the word bound with water. And the water doesn't come to us from some special source--it's not magic water that we can only get from a special spring. The power comes from the word--and perhaps more importantly, from the words that the congregation offers. When we baptize someone, the whole congregation takes a vow to support that person--when you wonder why baptism is such a public event, and why some people are adamant that it not be separated from the service and the congregation, that's why. It's not a photo op. It's a sacrament.

Think about Holy Communion. I've been to many Holy Communions now. Some churches use wafers specially ordered from religious communities, but you don't have to do that. I've had Communion with pita bread, with challah, and once, with a pizza crust. I've had good wine, bad wine, and grape juice. Again, what's important is the symbol of the elements, mixed with the words. It's not just about memory--it's how God becomes present to us, through a mystery that we don't fully understand.

As we work our way through the Scriptures, think about how often God takes simple things, physical things, earthy things, and turns them into routes that can lead to salvation. The most stunning example, of course, is the story of the Incarnation. During weeks where I'm impatient with my own failing flesh, I'm even more astounded than usual that the Divine would take on this project.

And we, of course, can work similar magic. Open up your dinner table, and observe grace in action. Or  make a phone call or check in by way of social media. Forgive freely, and watch redemption work. Pray for those who would do you wrong, and notice what happens. Get your fingers in the dirt and watch the flowers bloom later. Take some simple elements and envision them as sacramental, a symbolic route to God.

Different Versions of The Lord's Prayer

 Here is another post I wrote for my Florida church's electronic newsletter as we enjoy our pastor's sermon series on the Lord's Prayer:

You may not realize that we have 2 versions of the Lord's Prayer, but we do:  one in Matthew, and one in Luke.  Let's look at them together and see what we notice.  For both of these, I'm using the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition.  It can also be fun to look at different translations, but we won't do that today (www.biblegateway.com has a feature where you can compare several translations side by side).

 

Here's the version in Luke 11:  2-4:

² So he said to them, “When you pray, say:

Father,^[a] may your name be revered as holy.
    May your kingdom come.^[b]
3     Give us each day our daily bread.^[c]
4     And forgive us our sins,
        for we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.
    And do not bring us to the time of trial.

 

Here's the version that may be more familiar to more of us.  It's found in Matthew 6:  9-13:

⁹ “This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
¹⁰ your kingdom come,
your will be done,
    on earth as it is in heaven.
¹¹ Give us today our daily bread.
¹² And forgive us our debts,
    as we also have forgiven our debtors.
¹³ And lead us not into temptation,
    but deliver us from the evil one.

 

What do you notice?  How is each version different from the version that you usually pray?

 

I know that many of us like The Message, so let’s close with those versions.  And then maybe you’d like to write your own version.

 

Here’s Matthew from The Message:

 

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
    as above, so below.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.
You’re in charge!
You can do anything you want!
You’re ablaze in beauty!
    Yes. Yes. Yes.

 

 

And here’s Luke from The Message:

 

Father,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right.
Keep us alive with three square meals.
Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others.
Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil.

 

What would your version say?

Our Faith Depends on _____________

At Bible study this week, the leader said, "Our faith depends on incarnation."  She went on to elaborate how Christian faith depends on the idea that God took on human flesh.

I don't disagree, but it's rare that I've heard "incarnation" fill in this blank:  Our faith depends on _____.

How would you fill in the blank?  I think this question could fuel an entire season/decade/lifetime of faith formation classes.

For some of us, we might answer with "crucifixion."  We might say our faith depends on substitutionary atonement--or in more simple terms, that Jesus must die on a cross so that all humanity can have our sins forgiven.

More of us would probably answer "resurrection."  If there is no resurrection, is all of Christianity pointless?  For many, the answer to that question would be yes.  I could make a case for following God through a Christian path, even if the bones of Jesus were found in an archaeological dig.  But many people would not agree with me.

I've had many people tell me that Systematic Theology classes would challenge my faith, but so far, my Church History classes have been more challenging.  It's hard to see the choices made by church leaders, hard to think about roads not taken, hard to think about what seemed worth dying for.  Does our faith depend on a belief in the Trinity?  It could have been otherwise.  Does our faith depend on male pastors and bishops?  It could have been otherwise.  On and on I could go.

What does your faith depend on?

Shifting Employment

 In this time of great resignations and remodelings of our lives, I've been informally collecting/noticing stories of people who have made a shift or are in the process of moving towards a shift.

I have tended to focus on people going back to school.  More specifically, I've been amazed at how many women my age have decided to go to seminary in the past few years.  Often these are women who were already deeply involved in church, although perhaps not in a paid capacity.  Often these are women who have hit some sort of ceiling in their current church jobs and need a different kind of theology degree to get to where they need to go.

Most of the people I know are in caring professions, like pastoring, teaching, and medical fields.  Many women who are undergoing career shifts are moving from one caring area to another.  And some are doing something adjacent.

I heard from a woman who went to college when I did, and her job sounded so cool that I had to ask her about it.  She works in a museum that tells about the history of the county she lives in, and she said this about her job:

"I cannot believe I get paid to teach some amazing school children and dress historically on occasion, plant and maintain an antebellum garden, give tours to people from all over the US, research history and genealogy, work with an amazing group of intelligent , respectful co-workers AND get paid to do it!"

I'm recording it here because I want to remember that there's a wide range of jobs out there.  I've been having some anxiety when I think about the future, both the near future and the further away future.  There are all kinds of jobs out there that don't require more education, jobs that can be fulfilling, jobs that don't involve spreadsheets and downsizing, jobs that help preserve the best of what humanity has been and can be.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 12, 2023:

First Reading: Exodus 17:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 95

Second Reading: Romans 5:1-11

Gospel: John 4:5-42

If you didn't read much of the Bible, you might assume that Samaritans are good people; after all, wasn't the only person who stopped to help the traveler who was assaulted and left for dead, wasn't that person a Samaritan?

Yes, and that's part of the point of the story that many of us miss. Church officials didn't stop to help. The only person who did stop to help was one of the lowest people in the social stratosphere.

Actually, today's Gospel introduces us to one lower, a Samaritan woman. We know that she has low status because she's a Samaritan and because she's coming to the well later in the day. It would have been the custom to come early in the morning to socialize, and the fact that she doesn't come then speaks volumes; she's an outcast among outcasts. She's a woman in a patriarchal society and part of a group (Samaritans) who have almost no social status. It would only be worse if she was a prostitute or a slave.

Yet, Jesus has a long conversation with her, the longest that he has with anyone recorded in the New Testament. Here, again this week, Jesus is in Mystic mode. She asks questions, and he gives her complex answers.

But unlike Nicodemus, she grasps his meaning immediately. And she believes. She goes back to her city and spreads the good news. And her fellow citizens believe her and follow her back to follow Jesus. Notice how she has gone from isolation to community.

Jesus preaches to them and seems to include them, complete outsiders, in his vision of the Kingdom. Hence the good news: Jesus came for us all.

In this Gospel, we see an essential vision of a messiah who will spend time with people who are completely outcast. We are never too lost for God. We don't have to improve ourselves to win salvation. God doesn't tell us that we'll win love if we just lose ten pounds or pray more often or work one more night in the soup kitchen or give away fifty more dollars a week to worthy charities.

Jesus doesn't send the Samaritan woman back to town until he's made a connection with her. He doesn't say, "Hey, if you're at a well at noon, you must be a real slut, if the women won't even let you come to the well with them in the morning. Mend your slutty ways, and maybe I'll let you be part of my vision for the Kingdom."

No, he spends time with her and that's how he wins her over. He knows that humans can't change themselves in the hopes of some kind of redemption; we can’t even lose 10 pounds in time for our class reunion, much less make the substantial changes that will take us into a healthier older age.

However, Jesus knows the path to true change; he knows that humans are more likely to change if they feel like God loves them and wants to be with them just the way they are. Jesus comes to say, “You’ve lived in the land of self-loathing long enough. Sit with me and talk about what matters.”

That treatment might be enough to motivate us to behave like we are the light of the world.

International Women's Day 2023

 Today is International Women's Day, so I did what I do on some holidays--I checked my blogs to see what I had written before.  Here's a snippet from 2016:  "Let us also take a minute to consider how amazing it is that the most qualified candidate in this campaign season, in terms of experience, is a woman. In the past, it wouldn't have been possible for a woman to accumulate enough years of service to make that claim."  At that point, I wasn't sure that Hillary Clinton would win, the way I was later in 2016.  Sigh.

Until this year, I'd have assumed that rights that had been awarded by the Supreme Court were ours forever.  That belief is gone forever.  Yet I also know that I'm living in a better place than many women across the globe.  Part of that reason is because of my race and age and class.  But part of that reason is that women across the globe face much more bleaker circumstances than women on the lowest rung of U.S. society.

So, it's a hard year to be thinking about the status of women and celebrating accomplishments.  But it's important to remember that there have been accomplishments.  This year, unlike other years, we're having hard conversations about what it means to be a woman.  I have hopes that these conversations about gender might help us get to a place where life is safer for all of us, wherever we fall on the gender spectrum.

And once life is safer for all of us, perhaps we can think about ways that life can be more satisfying for all of us.

It's also important to remember how bleak life has been in the past, in the not too distant past.  We have not slid all the way back to bleaker days, and it's important to remember that.  We do have rights, we do have opportunities, and we can move fairly freely in the world if we're careful.  Of course, even as I type those words, I think about all the people who don't have rights, who don't have opportunities, who cannot move freely--that's especially true in countries like Afghanistan and Iran.

Will we look back and remember this year as being the one where women were given more rights and more access and more freedom in Iran?  I don't have much hope for Afghanistan this year, but there is an interesting upswelling in Iran.  I also understand the power structures that will try to crush those of us who want something better, something more free, something more open.

In my Queer Theology class, we've done a lot of analysis of oppressive social structures, of what we might call Powers and Principalities if we used theological terms.  We've talked about how these structures are self-perpetuating, about how hard it is to defeat them because they have power and accrue power simply by existing and because they have existed for so long.

No one said defeating them would be easy.  But many people have seen the vision of a better life for us all, and they can assure us the struggle is worth it, even though it's hard.  Future generations will thank us, even if we leave them tasks to finish.

And let me end on a positive note, even if I'm not feeling particularly positive.  

We know that the world can change very quickly.  I have often thought about how my 1987 self would be astonished at the fact that Nelson Mandela walked out of prison and went on to be elected president of South Africa and how there is no longer an East and West Germany. We are called to be part of the movement to change the world in ways that are better for all--and particularly for the vulnerable and powerless. We have made great progress on that front. But there is still more to do.

So, today, let us continue.

Widening Our Prayer Practices

I wrote a piece for my church's electronic newsletter that seems worth capturing here:

This Lent, Pastor Keith is exploring the Lord's Prayer for a sermon series. Perhaps this exploration has awakened in you a need to pray more. You can't go wrong with the Lord's Prayer. But if you want to widen your prayer practices, here are some ideas:

--You can't go wrong with saying, "Thank you." Once a day, make a list of 10 things for which you are grateful. They might be the same 10 things every day. That's fine.

--Pray for everyone who needs your prayers. It may be a long list. You could light a candle or do some other action to signal that you're entering into a prayer space. Notice the first five people that float through your mind. Pray for those people, even if you don't know why you're praying for them. It might be particularly important to pray for those who aren't in obvious need of prayer.

--Pray immediately when you wake up and when you go to bed.

--Set your watch to remind you to pray throughout the day. Explore the numerous apps for phones and computers that remind us to pray and give us prayers. Or set up your Outlook calendar to remind you.

--You might use other elements to remind you to pray. Every time you're stuck in traffic, pray. Every time you feel that flush of irritation from hearing other people's electronics, pray. When you see children waiting for a bus or riding bikes, pray.

--If the thought of praying throughout the day intimidates you, resolve to explore fixed hour prayer or the Liturgy of the Hours. Every morning at 5:30 a.m., Kristin offers a version of part of the Liturgy of the Hours, and it's recorded for those of you who can sleep later. You can find her daily recordings at the Trinity Facebook page.

--Experiment with prayer as movement. You might already do this if you take a yoga class. Choose your meditative movement and as you hold each pose or complete each kata, offer a prayer.

--Find a labyrinth and walk it. Many churches and retreat centers have installed labyrinths. What do you do once you’re there? Simply walk. Follow the path. As you get comfortable walking, try praying and walking.

--Explore prayer beads or a rosary (but any set of beads will do): If you’re not sure of how to do this, just offer up a different prayer as you touch each bead. Perhaps for each bead, you’d like to remember a specific person. Perhaps for each bead you’d like to offer up thanks for one thing for which you’re grateful. If you’re not good at creating prayers, simply pray the Lord’s prayer.

On Not Going to AWP and Other Moves

 Many people I know are in some state of travel this week.  Lots of writers are headed to the big writing conference, the AWP conference.  I went to a few of them; Tampa was an easy drive from my South Florida house, and we had such a good time that I decided to go the following year.  Unfortunately by the time of the  Portland  conference in 2019, I had almost no travel money, and by the following year, I funded the whole thing myself, to San Antonio in early March 2020, where we watched conferences for later March being cancelled and wondered what precautions we might should have been taking.

I am not on my way to Seattle this year for the AWP.  It's too expensive, and I'm no longer earning the kind of money that lets me fund the whole thing, which is easily $1,000 for the hotel by itself, not to mention airfare, which could also approach the $1,000 per ticket price, or not, if one is good at getting deals or traveling light, which I am not.  The conference fare looks cheap by comparison.

Plus, given all the air travel woes of the past year, I just do not have the patience for that kind of trip.  I need to be back on the east coast to go to my seminary classes.

I had planned to be in England this week, a trip with one grad school friend to visit another grad school friend who lives there.  But when we got the announcement that the building where I have my seminary apartment will be bulldozed, I decided to cancel the trip so that I could get ready for an unexpected move.  I did some packing and took a car load of boxes back to my North Carolina house, where I will be moved by May 15.

If there had been no announcement about seminary housing, I wouldn't have revisited that decision to move to seminary housing.  A lot has happened since I made the original application for housing a year ago.  A year ago, we didn't have this Lutheridge house.  A year ago, moving to seminary made sense--it was cheaper than our South Florida housing.  But now it makes sense not to have two places to live.

I'll still be going to seminary.  Wesley is offering more and more classes in a hybrid model: there are 2 week-ends on campus, and online modules between the week-ends. I've taken one class this way, and I like the way it builds community, but it offers a lot of flexibility too. I've also enjoyed the classes I've continued to take by way of Zoom sessions. In many ways, for a class that's a lecture (and most of my remaining classes are lecture, not hands-on art, not experiential field trips), attending by way of Zoom is not that different than attending in the classroom.

I'm trying to stay flexible as we face the future.  These past few years have made me better at pivoting, but the need to pivot still takes me by surprise.  I can't decide whether or not it makes sense to make long term plans.  In the past few years, so many of my long term plans have been upended.  Usually it works out for the better, but it does make me question whether or not to plan at all.

So, for those of you headed to AWP, good luck with the travel plans.  May you face no unexpected pivots.  For those of us with unexpected  moves, may they work out to be better plans than the original.  And of course, I'm me, so I wish for us all good discernment as we plan--or don't plan--for the future.

Sermon Slam

On Thursday, I went to a sermon slam.  I wasn't participating, although the thought intrigued me.  But the winner went on to a regional sermon slam, and I'll be at the Create in Me retreat when that happens--so it didn't seem fair to compete.  Plus, I thought I should observe one first.  I've never seen one, although I suspected it would be like a poetry slam.

As we waited for the sermon slam to start, we had dinner, which was a great opportunity for fellowship.  My fellow students at my table had never seen a sermon slam either.  I talked about poetry slams, which was a new concept to the students who ate dinner with me.  I realized I've never really been to many in-person poetry slam either, only one or two, back in the early years of this century, when it seemed like everyone wanted to compete.

The sermon slam on Thursday was less raucous than some of those early poetry slams.  We did clap, but we gave everyone the same amount of applause.  We did score the sermon presentations, but we filled out a paper slip which kept the results private.  Four women competed, and everyone won prizes.

For the first round, the participants had the Bible passage in advance: the transfiguration on the mountain story. Everyone gave a dynamic, compelling sermon.  They had a seven minute time limit, and everyone used the full time.  As with my Foundations of Preaching class, I was pleasantly surprised by how four people could have a passage--and not an obscure passage--and we could enjoy such different sermons.

For the second round, each participant got a passage from the Old Testament, all passages from the revised common lectionary, not something obscure.  One of the organizers had a bag of passages written out on paper, and the participant reached in to choose one.  They had the option to reject the first one and try again. 

Each participant had 3 minutes to work on a two minute sermon.  I found these sermons more dynamic.  Was it because they were truly more dynamic?  Did I just like them better because I knew that the prep time was shorter?  Did I like them better because the sermons themselves were shorter?

All too soon, it was time to go to class, my Church History II class, which didn't have the same energy level as a sermon slam.  However, it was the kind of afternoon that left me happy to be able to be part of it all, happy to have sampled some of what I hoped that life on campus would be.

Ninth Trip from DC to North Carolina

Yesterday was a travel day.  March 6-10 is our reading week, and I can do the school work that needs to be done from anywhere, so I planned to get up early and head down to our North Carolina house.

I'm usually up early, but the night before a travel day, I often have trouble sleeping.  I knew that the day might be stormy so I gave up on trying to sleep, and I was on the road by 3:45.

The first few hours of the trip were clear, no rain or fog, which is good, because the roads around DC can be hard to navigate in the rain and fog.  Once I was out of range of WAMU, I switched to a West Virginia station, where I heard about school closings and delays because of winter weather. Later, the station out of Harrisonburg, VA told me that there was a winter weather advisory for the Shenandoah Valley starting at 7 a.m., and the possibility of ice in the higher elevations.

I thought about the fact that I was in the Shenandoah Valley, and that I would be climbing in elevation.  I was expecting wind and rain, not snow and ice.  Happily, I didn't ever get snow or ice and not much wind or rain.  There were periods of not much rain, but lots of previous rain blowing up off the road, but from the 18 wheelers, not the wind.  The clouds were never far away as they obscured the mountains for the whole trip.

I was surprised by how many people drove through the gray, gloomy day with clouds descending on us, and they didn't have their headlights turned on.  Long ago, in the first college composition class I ever taught, a student argued that all cars should come with daytime running lights, a feature which then seemed futuristic and over the top.  Now I think that they should be a feature that can't be turned off manually.  Let the default be light.

I have now made this trip 9 times, and yesterday was one of the first times where I thought, I have been driving this car for hours and hours, and I'm still so far away!  Usually I'm thinking, this drive is so pretty, and I'm making such good time.

Still, it could have been worse.  As I left Harrisonburg, I noticed that the interstate was shut down on the northbound side.  I kept moving, and soon enough, I was pulling into my driveway.  We unloaded the car, and I went back out to get a few groceries.  I was still expecting storminess, but while we did get some rain, it wasn't as bad a storm as what people on the other side of the mountain experienced.  We ate a late lunch/early dinner, and settled in for some TV--the comforts of cozy domesticity, which neither one of us has experienced in awhile.

It's been a strange phenomenon that when I'm here, I have trouble remembering that seminary exists, and when I'm in my seminary apartment, this Lutheridge house seems like a hazy dream.  Let me do some work on the papers that are due before the end of the week-end:  the less formal weekly response for Church History II and the paper on Buddhism for World Religions (happily, I've written the more difficult part of this paper).  

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, March 5, 2023:

First Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a

Psalm: Psalm 121

Second Reading: Romans 4:1-5, 13-17

Gospel: John 3:1-17

It's always interesting to come across a familiar verse in context. John 3:16 is one of those verses that many people can quote. And yet, we're at the end of centuries of disagreement about what it means. Does it mean that Jesus had to be crucified as a sacrifice for our sins, as many Christians will tell you? Does it mean that Jesus came to show us a different way of life, thus saving us, as many people uncomfortable with a sacrificial Jesus would have us believe? Does it mean that Jesus is the only way to the Divine? What about people who will never hear about Jesus? Will they go to Hell when they die?

John is the most mystical of the Gospels, and not surprisingly, Jesus acts as a mystic in this episode with Nicodemus, who asks Jesus serious questions, as a scholar would, and Jesus seems to give him nonsense answers about being born again.

Read what Jesus says again, and imagine how frustrating it must have been for Nicodemus. It's frustrating for me, and I come from a tradition that would be happy to explain it to me. I can talk about the ideas of Martin Luther with the best of them, the small and large Catechisms, and yet, Jesus seems to be offering mystical babble here.

These are the passages that I hate discussing with the confused and the non-believers. How to explain these mystical concepts?

Maybe we don't have to explain. I take part in all sorts of mysteries that I can't explain. I don't understand internal combustion engines, but I drive my car anyway, and I have faith that it will work. I can't explain how electricity is generated or how it powers all the things that make my life easy, but that doesn't stop me from turning on the lights when it's dark.

Advent and Lent are two times of the liturgical year when I am most conscious that I'm participating in a mystery--and therefore, I can't explain everything, especially not to the satisfaction of non-believers. I can't even explain it to me. As Jesus says, "The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit."

I have faith in being born again, although I might define that differently than my fundamentalist friends. Each day is like a new opportunity, a new birth, a new chance to re-align myself towards God. Each day, God wants to come live with me, and each day, I get to decide whether or not that will happen. Even if I go through a period of not living as mindfully as I'd like, I can start again, whenever I choose. Like liturgical season of Advent, Lent reminds us of the need to turn and return to God.

A Pop Sermon

 Last night, in my Women and the Preaching Life class, we had a "pop sermon"--like a pop quiz, but not a quiz.  I would much rather have a pop sermon.  We had 5 minutes to choose a Bible passage, decide on a message, and prepare a one minute sermon.  And then we stood up and gave those sermons.  We had to turn off our phones, close our laptops, and give full attention to those who were giving the sermon.

At first I thought I would write about the Psalm that tells us that weeping may spend the night but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30: 5).  But I decided that I didn't really have much to say beyond the basic meaning:  we can cry all night, but eventually joy comes again.

I thought about the verse about God's hands stretching across the sky, and when I Googled it, I got Isaiah 49:16:  "See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."  I thought about the time I went to see Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and he talked about this verse and about what it means that God has our names inscribed on God's hands.  And voila, I had my sermon.

I read the verse and talked about how I read the verse, and at first I don't think of my hands, but instead of Archbishop Desmond Tutu's hands reaching out as he read this verse to us.  I think of my own hands.  Until recently, I would have written notes of what I needed to remember to do on my hands--and these days, I'd have notes extending up my arms, since we're in that busy time of the term (several of my classmates alluded to our heavy to-do lists).  Why didn't I make notes on paper?  Because my hands traveled with me all the time; paper can be lost.  And then I finished with a few sentences with my arms outstretched, asking the listeners to take heart that God has not forgotten us; on the contrary, we are written on God's hands, we are on God's list of what needs attention.

I felt like it was a powerful 1 minute sermon, and one of my classmates told me that she found it enormously moving.  But I found many of the sermons moving, and every single one of them had something profound to say.  It continues to amaze me of how much content one can pack into a very short delivery time:  5-7 minute sermons in Foundations of Preaching (with weeks of prep time) and last night, a 1 minute sermon with very little prep time.

It also seems like an idea that could be used in a variety of settings:  finding a central idea in a text and presenting it, writing an introductory paragraph/thesis/conclusion/main point and presenting it, writing a line of a poem or a line of dialogue in response to a prompt--on and on I could go.

It seemed less punishing than a pop quiz, and for me, I felt more engaged than I would with a pop quiz.  It also showed us a different approach to developing a sermon, which is one of the main purposes of a class in the Preaching discipline (which last night's class was).  

We did it at the beginning of class, which for me was a great way to start.  I could see it working well at any point of the class.  When I've taught in person, I've always looked for ways to shake things up a bit, whether it's showing some video or doing some reading (individually or out loud).  And while it did take us over an hour, between prepping, delivering, and analyzing the process, it wouldn't have to take that long.

It was worth every minute.